#at a.... notable coffee shop

[ghost-proofbaby]

24h eddie is so the type to be like “do you need me to come fight someone? or come get you?” when you’re just like ranting about a coworker being annoying

“no, unfortunately murder for microwaving tuna in the break room is frowned upon”

i see your scenario and raise you the scenario that prior to all this, he would have absolutely been the annoying coworker who microwaved tuna.

[sinshiney]

G: .....I’ve never heard that expression before. H: Maybe it’s a generational thing? My aunts say it all the time.

(description under the cut)

[A four panel comic that takes place in a coffee shop. Harrow is a customer and Gideon and Camilla are baristas. Panel 1: Gideon hands Harrow a paper coffee cup and says, “Black coffee for Ha-- hey! Your earrings are really cute!”

Panel 2: Harrow has numerous piercings in her ears, left eyebrow, and lower lip. But the large, dangling skeletons that hang from her lobes are the most notable. She is flustered and says, “Oh! Well, you know what they say...” Gideon smiles politely.

Panel 3: The background is dark and Harrow’s face is half hidden in dramatic shadow. She says, “THERE IS A SKELETON IN EVERYONE, JUST WAITING TO COME OUT.”

Panel 4: Harrow walks away from the service counter, looking forlornly at the cup in her hands as she wonders, “Why did I buy this?” Gideon leans on the counter, watching her go, and Camilla leans on Gideon. Camilla asks, “Did that goth kid just threaten you?” Gideon smiles and says, “Yep!”]

[halemerry]

So there's a lot to unpack here but I want to start by talking about the ending and specifically about the Metatron and the calculating moves made at the end of episode 6.

Every single piece of what happened there was a manipulation technique being employed against Aziraphale to an almost brilliant degree and I'm honestly a little obsessed with what this says about the Metatron in particular.

Let's go in order.

First of all. We see him order coffee. In a human body. Something sweet and sugary. He talks to Nina and asks her about her shop name. Does anyone ever ask for death? And when she tells him no they don't his response is to say "so predictable". Our introduction to him here even when everything about him reads like a sweet old man is presented to show us someone who reads the world in terms of being predictable to him.

He then shows up in the middle of Aziraphale's existence being threatened. He immediately cuts down the threat's authority (using outdated language like Az himself would favor) and reemphasizes his own connection to Heaven. When Michael doesn't recognize him and he puts her down and then directly engages Crowley. Crowley who, to Aziraphale, has for centuries at a minimum been someone he thinks is smarter, better, more Good than these other archangels. The Metatron validates these beliefs. Crowley is more Heavenly than these archangels who couldn't even recognize the voice of God when he was standing right in front of them.

The Metatron draws attention to the fact he's in a human body. The kind of body Aziraphale has been in and loved for nearly 6000 years. He then banishes the archangels, implying their morality is in a gray space, and validates Muriel someone we have seen Aziraphale react positively to and someone outside the current power structure. Look at me, he's saying. I see and validate the little guy.

He then tries to talk to Aziraphale. Aziraphale says "I've made my position quite clear." And then the Metatron offers Aziraphale the coffee. This bartering chip, consuming sustenance, is a thing that Aziraphale and Crowley have used as their connective tissue for centuries. It's an olive branch for them. It's giving Aziraphale bodily pleasure and the Metatron implies that he himself has partaken also - a thing we know that Aziraphale has struggled historically with moralizing. He is seen by the closest thing he has left to his parent and he is having old fears validated as safe and old habits being played upon to make him feel secure

He then REMOVES Aziraphale from his home turf. Not only does he remove Crowley from the equation but he takes Aziraphale from the place that has stood as a place of sanctuary throughout the entirety of the season. The shop is Safe and Aziraphale is leaving it and he is leaving the one person who might be able to smell the bullshit coming from the Metatron. The music notably turns absolutely dire here.

The next time we see them the Metatron tells Aziraphale that he doesn't need to answer instantly. He can take his time, if he likes. All the time he needs. And then tells him to go tell Crowley. Once again bringing Crowley in as a valid part of this while manufacturing a scenario where he can't possibly be.

Az ends up in a place where he's overwhelmed and confused and he wants so badly to believe what he's being told. It's an appealing thing from his perspective! He feels off kilter like he's made a mistake in judging the Metatron. He can't even fully articulate what happened to Crowley at first and he's had absolutely no real time to actually think it through. He's running on sheer reactive energy.

The Metatron starts their conversation by asking Aziraphale's opinion. Who should rule Heaven? This is once again playing into making Az feel validated and like he's a part of this decision making process. The Metatron corrects him, complimenting Aziraphale and making him feel capable and in control. He reassures Aziraphale's bafflement. And draws attention to some traits that, while true of Aziraphale around Crowley, are not his defining traits in the eyes of Heaven. You don't just tell people what they want to hear I find particularly notable in this regard given Aziraphale spent most of his time on earth actively lying to Heaven and doing just that. But it fits into the narrative Aziraphale has built around himself, especially post Apocalypse. The Metatron then says I need you (a phrase Az will use much more painfully here in a minute).

And even after all this Aziraphale says no. He says flat out he doesn't want to go back to Heaven. He says this!!! And then the Metatron sweetens the pot. He swaps tactics. Not once has this come up until Aziraphale pushes back against the idea. If the Metatron could've gotten him without using it I have no doubt he wouldn't have bothered with it. Come to Heaven and we can save Crowley. Aziraphale loves Crowley. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is better than any of the angels he's interacted with. Crowley is Good and Nice and Kind and always saving him and now he's being presented with a way to return that. He can Forgive Crowley - a thing Crowley has always presented to Aziraphale as something he struggles with. All of these things Aziraphale has watched Crowley react to in a way that belittles himself or distances them from one another. Of course he wouldn't consider that maybe what he was actually saying is "I'm unforgivable and I don't want that forgiveness."

The Metatron offers Aziraphale a Dream Offer for the pre Armageddon Aziraphale. You can keep your Crowley. You can heal him like you have always thought he deserved. You can have power and control the people who for your whole existence has beaten you down. It can go back to how it was but BETTER.

When Aziraphale leaves he still hasn't answered. He goes and has the conversation they have. It's intense and emotional and the Metatron comes in after the Moment all casual and asks how it goes, knowing fully well the shitstorm he had just set up to get created. And then he turns around and says "always did want to go his own way" which is not only true of Crowley but framed as a bad thing despite the fact that he has just spent twenty minutes or so telling Aziraphale that he's done his own thing and that is Good. He is playing both sides of this perspective as it suits him. And then he cuts down Crowley asking questions, pressuring Aziraphale to avoid doing the same. He then proceeds to ask Aziraphale not if he's made up his mind but if he's ready to get started. He is one by one closing off exit routes to this thing as Aziraphale starts to look more and more panicked and indecisive. He makes sure the bookshop is in good hands and asks Aziraphale if there's anything he needs to take with him. Letting Aziraphale have the illusion of choice while cutting down "I don't want to" as an option altogether.

And Az, as soon as the Metatron is out of shot, tries to express this. And then he falls back right on old coping methods. The Metatron pats him on the head. Reassures that he's the right one for this. That he is Good. That his particular skillset is needed here.

It is a masterstroke of manipulation. A very dark twist on what we see Crowley do time and time again with Aziraphale throughout the millennia. Familiar in a way that makes Aziraphale feel safe. Except this time this is being used to put him back in line. It's brilliant and painful and it fucking hurt and I need a season 3 to see the Metatron get what's coming to him stat.

[waterlilyvioletfog]

So I like kind of mentioned this in a previous post but like. It’s weird?? Right?? That when Harrow re-constructs the bubble over and over again at the start of HtN Act V she does 1) role-reversal AU 2) Arranged marriage AU 3) Coffee shop AU. Because those are FANFIC TROPES. (The arranged marriage AU being especially unhinged to me because she doesn’t even know John is Gideon’s dad at that point!! Her brain had to come up with “what if Gideon were royalty omg??” ON ITS OWN.) And like the fanfic-ness always was insane bc of course yeah that makes sense from a Doylist perspective, ie, Taz Muir’s an author notable for her inclusion of internet humor and culture, and she has personal experience with fanfic. But it didn’t make sense on a Watsonian level because sure, Harrow’s clearly a Romantic, but this isn’t a genre language that I think Harrow naturally speaks. Harrow doesn’t read smutty romance novels!!! She’s a repressed little nunlet obsessed with bones, her only options of sexual interest in her adolescence being 1) GIDEON 2) a corpse she views as holy and sacred— no really safe options for exploratory crushes or sexual experimentation here. So how is she thinking in fic/romance tropes? Either A) Harrow is significantly less repressed than everything I’ve ever read about her would lead me to understand, B) fic tropes are so transcendental that the agonized, wounded, thrice-haunted mind of Harrowhark Nonagesimus could, in its death throes, find itself in this specific genre of text she has no personal reference for, or C) according to the Sex Pal Theory of Permeability, Harrow has gained an understanding of romance tropes via soul osmosis, from Gideon/Alecto/Wake/Palamedes during the bubble visit???, and that explains why she dreams in fanfiction. I’m going with option C. Thank you Unwanted Guest for solving this little mystery for me 🙏🙏🙏

[cozycottagetarot]

PAC: Your Person's Appearance

What Are Their Vibes & Characteristics?

PILE 1 (Source) | PILE 2 (Source) | PILE 3 (Source)

This was supposed to be a quick reading but idk what happened 🤨. I apologise if it's scattered though I think I saw that every time 😅.

Anyways, this reading covers your person's vibes they give off as well as any notable features about them. As always this reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨

Version 1 Of This Reading

PAC Reading Masterlist | Paid Readings

PILE 1

Initial Impressions: Dark features, intelligent look, balanced masculine and feminine energies, ambitious, helpful, burnout, (Mount) Vesuvius, mystical, dreamy, starry-eyed, intuitive, regal, physically fit, wish fulfilment, hope, they brighten up the room, a new beginning, secure.

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They have a quiet confidence. Even if they don’t say much of anything, you can sense their self-assuredness. They could be in a position of power career-wise where they oversee others or an operation but I don’t think that it’s something they’re particularly happy about or take lightly. People may think it’s all fun and games for them but actually, it’s quite the opposite. They could actually be quite lonely despite their work. They could have left home and they can’t return to it. They carry a heaviness with them. Working on themselves and levelling up. Focused. Lost in thought. Optimistic. They could exude a sense of hope and magic, just being in their presence may boost your mood. Busy. Moving from one thing to the next. Coffee shop vibes. Proportionate body. Someone new that you’re manifesting. You two could meet at a time of change and transformation in one or both of your lives. If you’re accustomed to unhealthy relationships or drawn to people that aren’t good for you, this is the opposite. They might not even look like they used to. They’ll have a very nice body… you may really like their legs. They may wear clothes that expose a part of their body... particularly their chest. Nurturing energy. I think you may just kind of know or you’ll feel a sense of peace.

Notable Characteristics:

Hair colours are pretty diverse— you’ve got black, red, blonde and grey (or platinum that came to me as well) hair. They could have curly or kinky hair types. The only one that came out for face shapes was square. Their eyes may be hooded or they may have a monolid. They could have a broad or roman shaped nose. When it comes to their mouth. They could have a cupid’s bow and thin lips, straight teeth and they may smirk a lot or their smile looks like a smirk. The last few physical things are they might be on the shorter side or shorter than you and they could have scars or a skin condition (eczema, vitiligo, etc). Their voice may be smooth or animated. Their style could be very aesthetic or vintage and they may wear a lot of formal/business wear. They may come across as quiet/reserved, intelligent and charismatic.

You can check out the discarded version of this pac here for any additional insights HOWEVER LOOK AT PILE 2!

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading

PILE 2

Initial Impressions: Symphony by Clean Bandit feat Zara Larson came to me, Someone you’re destined to meet.. the one who got away or someone who’s unforgettable from day one, dangerous look, security, a strong appearance, protective, fierce, a wish fulfilled, a musician, someone who moves with fluidity, muse, not the knight you expect, a little bit closed off

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They may try to stay under the radar, but I think that may be a little hard… at least when it comes to you. You may need some help with them though, as in getting a relationship started. There’s a wildness to them but it might get them in trouble so they try to tame themselves (I also hear tame their desire for adventure). They may not look like their stable but they are and they worked hard for what they have. I think this person may look focused… a little bit scruffy or dishevelled if they’re a man. I felt like you may be cautious of them but I think that they may also come across as guarded and cautious of others. There’s definitely a sense of maturity to them and wisdom. Highly perceptive. They could have multiple ear piercings. You could meet this person by chance. In one of the previous versions (see the end of your pile’s reading) I think I wrote that you two might meet in a way ‘only the divine could have orchestrated’. I don’t know how to describe it, but it may not be a meeting you could have ever thought to dream of/up. I think of wolves when I think of this person based on the cards as well. They may have a tough exterior, not easily approachable. They’re everything you want whether or not you know or see it at first. They may carry a lot of stress. Actually very passionate and inspiring. A diamond in the rough or a lamp that needs polishing.

Notable Characteristics

Short, curvy (I also remember picking up on husky at one point in a prev version), they could wear glasses but prefer to wear contacts. For hair, you guys have a good set of cards so their hair may be a significant feature. The cards around hair were— wavy, unique cut/style, afro (or puffy hair), salt & pepper, short hair, blonde, grey hair, long hair, and straight hair. For facial hair, it’s either clean-shaven or a beard. Their face shape could be round, square or diamond-shaped. For lips, they could have a cupid’s bow. They could have brown or green eyes or their eye colour may look unique. Their voice could be youthful or higher in pitch or on the opposite end deep. You also got smooth and they could have a foreign accent (whatever that means to you). Lastly, some impressions about this person are they may come across as confident, charismatic, quiet/reserved and professional/polished.

You can check out the discarded versions of this PAC here for any additional insights HOWEVER LOOK AT PILE 1! Discard 1 (all piles) | Discard V.2 (your pile only)

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading.

PILE 3

Initial Impressions: Vibes of being a player. Not being from around the same location. Something about their eyes. A rake. Large and in charge. Good with words or a sweet talker. Lively. Someone not to be tied down. Awakening something with you. Happy. Young. Naive. Sociable. Could be from somewhere warm or they could make you warm. Strong. Visually impaired? Intuitive… like they know the "secrets of the universe”. Jewellery may be significant. Wanderer. Hands. Might wear lots of prints. Rings. Marriage material. They could be a risk taker or look like a risk you’re willing to take. They may be quite flamboyant which might resonate a lot if you’re more reserved in how you dress or present yourself to the world. Grey hair. Frustrating. Baby Charli XCX.

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They might come across as slightly immature and before some of you roll your eyes, immaturity doesn’t always show up as a negative. It could be a playfulness to them that makes you think they haven’t really lived and explored life yet. They may give off the vibe that pursuing them is a risk of some kind on your part. You might feel like you’ve got to be very careful about pursuing them or allowing them to pursue you.

They could look like a social butterfly. An infectious vibe or personality. They may light up the room. For a lot of you, I feel like I’m viewing this person in an educational or work setting and like watching them from afar interact with other people. They could look like a drifter. One dynamic I’m picking up on as well is your person being the type of person willing to pack up and go anywhere on a whim while you may be more cautious and the type to need a plan first. They’ll say ‘runaway with me’ and look at you expectantly while your head and heart battle. They may seem very creative or flamboyant. There’s a sense of home or familiarity too. Not sure how you’re going to get the final cut of this atm, but I definitely picked that up in the first deck I used. “Your person could look familiar to you— it doesn’t necessarily mean that you know them though for half of you I think you could. I think when you see your person you may have that “Have we met before?” moment.”

Physically you may find their hands very attractive. They could be skilled in a profession where they have to use their hands a lot (mainly for crafting I’m getting this scenario) and could either hand you something or demonstrate something where you’re focused on their hands. Very attractive hands lol, this may make you blush. They could look very athletic. Very confident. They may turn your world upside down (in a freeing way I see).

Notable Characteristics

The most notable thing about your person may be their voice. I’ve made some traits/characteristics and the majority of what I got relates to voice. Some traits you’ve got for voice are: soft, smooth, deep, animated (they may speak in a way that paints a picture), youthful/high(er)-pitched voice

Their face shape could be round or oval. They could have wavy/shoulder-length hair or no hair at all. If they wear facial hair, it’d be a beard. Their nose could be upturned or described as aquiline. For eyes, they could be round or have monolids and they may have a unique eye colour. They may have full lips or crooked teeth. Freckles. Tattoos. They may look ethereal or be a boho/laid-back and/or vintage style.

You can check out the discarded version of this pac here for any additional insights.

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading.

[theboombutton]

The interesting thing about tmagp episode 9 is that, from one perspective, it's about a pair of dice that kill you if you roll a crit fail. And in TMA that would be very End-coded. Games of chance were End-coded, and death is obviously The End. Open and shut case.

Except it's not, here. The statement giver had never seen anyone roll a 2 before he ran into Gary in that coffee shop, even after thousands of rolls. That's not an End artifact. Those dice are going out of their way not to kill anyone, save those who try to part with them.

The compulsion to roll feels like the Web, but is it? Certainly games of chance can become addicting, but I don't think that's the whole story. The Web is about the fear of the loss of control, yes, but it's also about something else controlling you instead. Here that something else is an embodiment of "random" chance - although again, it's not properly-random, not even pseudorandom. I have thoughts on that but they're best addressed further on.

Weirdly, of all the manifestations of Fear from TMA, this statement seems most akin to Jude Perry's - rolling the dice with other people's lives and fortunes, for the thrill of sometimes devastating them.

Which brings me back to the possibility of AU Fears.

In the Protocolverse, why shouldn't there be a Fear associated with chance and luck and fate and misfortune that happens for no good reason? A fear of lacking control and losing everything, without anyone else necessarily having that control.

This is where the way the dice are rigged becomes possibly meaningful. Their outcomes aren't random - they're what humans expect random to look like. They operate according to the gambler's fallacy, where the longer a chain of bad luck you have the more you're due for a good roll, and vice versa. Snake eyes aren't just a normal outcome of the 1-in-36 chance of rolling 2d6 - they're reserved for when someone is cursed with truly rotten luck. Notably that isn't true of boxcars: those just happen sometimes, without prerequisite.

Logically, a Fear of Misfortune wouldn't operate on the actual rules of probability, would it? It would be shaped by the superstitions of those that feared it.

(Also, I hope this statement puts the "they're not fears they're desires!" theory to bed. This guy didn't want the dice, and didn't especially want to roll them, but seemed compelled to anyway.)

[chocosvt]

HER | part six (m).

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

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

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

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

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

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

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

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

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

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

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

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

—SEPTEMBER 30TH.

The morning after was strange.

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

Vernon was gone.

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

He spent some time cleaning off the coffee table.

Down the hall, his bedroom door remained closed.

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

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

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

Undoubtedly, you had much to think about.

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

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

And what was supposed to happen now?

—OCTOBER 3RD.  

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

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

He took a second to glance down at his phone.

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

Suddenly, however, Wonwoo had smacked into someone.

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

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

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

Now he was wondering if the shoulder bump was intentional.

“Wonwoo… uh, hey,” Seokmin stumbled.

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

He was still debating whether or not to walk away.

“What’s up?”

“You just get out of class, or?”

Wonwoo nodded. “Yeah—advanced stats.”

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

“Is that the free stuff from SRX?”

“Indeed.”

“How does it taste?”

“Uh, watery… like shit, basically.”

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

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

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

For some stupid, incomprehensible reason, Wonwoo stopped.

Maybe he knew the conversation needed to happen.

It only made him loathe the situation more.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“Okay… yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck—he hated being matured.

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

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

Wonwoo shrugged. “Yeah.”

“So, then, does that mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

“And—”

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

“I never thought she would stick it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

His friend’s eyes drifted away from him.  

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

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

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

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

“How is it not?”

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

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

“Of course, but—”

“No—why is there even a ‘but’?”

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

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

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

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

“How?”

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

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

Seokmin instantly paled. He looked whiter than a snowflake.

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

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

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

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

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

There was obviously a reason for your silence.

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

[ Wonwoo | 4:08 pm ]: I’m not.

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

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

[ Wonwoo | 4:09 pm ]: Seriously?

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: yes

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

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

[ Wonwoo | 4:10 pm ]: Fair.

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

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

[ Her | 4:10 pm ]: ugh

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

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

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

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

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

—OCTOBER 18TH.

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

Maybe.

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

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

Wonwoo smiled while grabbing another berry to cut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A whole fucking year without Jeanie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I do, in fact, want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From across the room, you shifted him a glance.

There was a heavy pause before you answered.

“… Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, hey, Wonwoo.”

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

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

Jeanie splayed out her hands in a demonstration of submission.

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

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

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

“It’s okay. I’ll leave.”

Jerking back to you, Wonwoo nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Her—you don’t need to—”

But you shook your head.

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

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

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

She looked to Wonwoo for a split second.

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

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

“I’ll call you, okay?”

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

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

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

He stepped back, beckoning indoors.

“Yeah… that’s fine, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

Together, they nestled onto the couch.

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

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

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

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

Puffing out through his nose, Wonwoo almost laughed.

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

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

Wonwoo shook his head, lifting out his hand.

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

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

He pushed up his glasses. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Jeanie clasped her hands together, thumbs tapping.

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

Wonwoo shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

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

“You went back home, then?”

“I did.”

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

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

“Yeah, I get that.”

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

 “It definitely hasn’t been linear.”

Tucking some hair behind her ear, the girl smiled. “Well, what in life really is? It only feels that way when you’re going straight down.”

He hmphed, thinking. “… Yeah. Really though, don’t worry about it. An apology isn’t necessary. You’ve always been too gracious.”

“I-I guess… but, I think it is, since—”

“Jeanie, c’mon. It’s really not. I was dragging you down.”

“Wonwoo, I feel like—”

“I’m telling you—”

“Well, I’m telling you and it would mean a lot if you just let me speak and get this off my chest. Please. Then you can have the floor. Tell me to package it all back up. Whatever it is you have to say. But I spent our entire relationship just listening and trying to understand you and interpret all your vague signals when I should have been trying to understand myself, and what I wanted. I’m not the verbose type, I know that. Going off on longwinded tangents about my feelings has never been something that suits me but I’m here now and I owe it to the girl who just sucked it all up, all the time, trying to be this perfect girlfriend for you.”

He managed a long, introspective breath.

Fuck—he really did owe her that. He owed her so much more.

“… Okay,” Wonwoo nodded complicity, “you’re right.”

“Leaving was the very last thing I wanted. I swear it. I agonized over the choice every day. But you didn’t even notice. That’s when I knew it was more than bad, and whatever it was you were going through was just pulling you down so deep, like a whirlpool. It’s like… I would talk to you, and there was no one inside. When I felt like you needed space, I gave you space. When I felt like you had something hard to say, I would sit with you all day, trying to ease it out, waiting for you to say it.

When you seemed so angry at yourself and everything around you—I-I don’t know—I tried to be the best thing for you. But I was hitting wall after wall. Sometimes I wonder how much of it was my fault. If I had just been upfront about my feelings then maybe things would have been… well, you know, different. I guess I never did say much because it seemed like the last thing you needed to hear, like I would be adding to your already massive collection of burdens. You have to understand, I felt trapped, Wonwoo. Like I was in a glass box or something.

I was decaying from the inside out. If I didn’t leave, if I didn’t make that split second decision to phone up my mom and tell her everything that morning you left for work—then maybe we would have gotten even worse. Maybe we would have just drowned. I don’t know. I’m… glad, relieved, happier than ever, that I don’t know what might have happened. And now that it seems we’re both… whole… I feel like an apology is just a way for me to say that if I had the steel to speak for the both of us, maybe we could have spared so much pain in between.”

Jeanie’s doe eyes twinkled with tears. “I thought that being apart might heal us both… I-I did it ‘cause—in essence—I did it because I cared, Wonwoo. About you. So deeply. But I also needed to start caring about myself, too.”

The corners of his mouth flitted in an unbridled smile toward the girl, his gaze admiring how the evening sunlight warmed up her cool-toned skin and shimmered through her strong, healthy hair.

“I know,” Wonwoo finally answered. “I’ve known for a while.”

Jeanie stayed for about an hour longer, until the sky started darkening. Together, they filled each other in on the breakages in each other’s distant lives, like a spider reweaving a gash through its cobweb. He was pleased to learn that she was doing quite well for herself—now moved out from her family house and living with her younger sister, Jeanie held true to pursuing her ambition of managing the library she had always adored coming to during her childhood (he remembered it specifically as “the one with the bean bag corner and the giant toy crate with the giraffe.”)

Wonwoo felt he didn’t have much to say regarding himself, however, he had plenty to say about you.

Rubbing at a strand of her hair, Jeanie nodded. “Yeah, I remember Her. She—like—she did scare me a bit… I don’t know—she really seemed to know what she was doing. I was a little envious of that. And she had really great style. She could pull anything off. She came in looking for a textbook one time, but I made my co-worker help her instead. I think I was too nervous to talk to her.”

Wonwoo had his legs stretched out onto the coffee table, hands settled on his stomach. Itching at his eyebrow, he smiled. “I probably would have done the same, back then. Honestly though, she’s nothing like what she seems. I can promise you that.”

Jeanie was quiet for a moment, adjusting the legs tucked up underneath herself. “So… you two are… you’re dating?”

“No… it’s weird. I wish.”

“I recognized her when she opened the door. I was pretty confused since… of all the people that you could have over… she seemed like the most unlikely candidate. I-I mean, I’m not saying that you could never—I’m not saying that it could never happen—”

He tilted his head at Jeanie, grinning slyly. “No, just say it. You didn’t imagine I’d ever even be able to talk to someone like her.”

The girl’s face flushed. “Well, you’re quite the opposites.”

“In some ways.”

“I don’t think she’d like me.”

Wonwoo pursed his lip in disagreement. “That’s not true. To be fair, you’ve ever only got to see one side of her. She’s trying to figure shit out just as much as we are. You never really stop, I suppose.”

He felt Jeanie’s gaze still on him for a few seconds, her mouth twitching into a delicate, sincere smile made brighter by her eyes. “So… you figure she’d like me? Even if she knew all the details about us? How rough it all was?”

Wonwoo crossed his arms, staring back toward her confidently. “I figure she’d probably like you more than me, actually.”

8:28 pm

“Hey, thanks for picking up.”

“Oh, no big deal. You called me at a good time. I was just about to start my skincare and I would have needed to sit for fifteen minutes doing absolutely nothing in a slimy face mask.” 

“Sounds fun.”

“I’m guessing your conversation is over and done with.”

“Yeah. She only left like, five minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t want to sit alone in your bedroom contemplating the universe for an additional hour with all the blinds drawn? Woah. Wonwoo, I am impressed. Finger snaps.”

“Finger snaps.”

“So… am I allowed to know how the whole thing went or did you just call me to hear the sound of my voice?”

“Both. But mostly to hear your voice.”

“Okay. Enlighten me then.”

9:45 pm

“Anyway… yeah. The conversation went well. I still can’t believe she actually came back to see me. Like, what a mindfuck, you know?”

“That took a lot of courage from her part.”

“Yeah, it did. Makes me proud, though. To hear her actually speak her mind. She really was just trying to be the best possible person for me and the only thing that got her is heartbreak. She’s putting herself first, now. She’s spending a couple days in the city with her sister.”

“… Do you think that you’ll want to see her again?”

“I don’t know. Do I need to?”

“Do you?”

“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, as much as it was a shock to see her again, there was great closure in it. If she had come to see me way sooner, no way would I have been open to it—I probably would have freaked the fuck out and had an anxiety attack or some shit—but I feel way better about everything now. I felt like I understood her choices, kinda like I was the one making them... but, you know, we’re evolved people at this point. We’ve veered onto two separate paths, neither one being greater than or less than the other… just different.”

“Right.”

“We just wished each other well.”

“No, that’s great. You put a bow on it. I just didn’t really know what the whole thing was gonna entail… so, yeah, I had gotten kinda worried… like—once I knew it was her—I thought she looked so perfect for you. You two just made immediate sense in my mind. She’s got such a sweet voice, and the kind, shy personality that everyone always adores. I think if you stuck her in a room with me, she’d hate my guts.”

“Ha—Jeanie hates no one’s guts. She’s got no room in her heart for that kind of stuff. You two are different for sure, but I think that’s what would make you interesting and attractive to each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t think you’d like her either. But I told her you’d probably like her more than me.”

“What! She actually thought that? I mean, maybe I seemed a little damp when I left, but that was just my mind on overdrive.”

“Need me to arrange a date between you two?”

“Ha—she did have a great perfume on. Maybe ask about that.”

“Well, I will if I see her.”

“She doesn’t know about the book you were writing for her, does she? I can’t believe that’s been sitting on your laptop all this time.”

“No, she doesn’t. I used to sit there and stare at it every day, but I don’t think I’ve even opened the damn document in months… since I met you, my mind has gradually moved away from it, I guess. I think now it’s more of an effort thing. All the time I put into it. It’s like, if I delete it, I’m deleting that time from my life… does that even make sense?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”

“… Did you ever finish your book for Mingyu? I know you wanted it done before your anniversary in December. It seemed like you were on track to have it done quite early, with all that time you gave yourself.”

“I did finish it, actually.”

“No fucking way—that’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah. Now I’ve just gotta decide what to do with it.”

—NOVEMBER 3RD.

Wonwoo was fairly surprised that Princess had invited him to her birthday dinner at Terra Cotta. At one point, he wasn’t certain where he stood with your closest friend, even if his relationship with her presented itself as amicable on the surface—he always thought that maybe deep down, Princess really did despise him. Then Wonwoo wondered if you had nipped at the birthday girl into inviting him, although that didn’t seem like something in your character.

Through all his fretting, thumb-scraping, and late-night pondering in the shower, Wonwoo eventually came to the conclusion that was probably the simplest and most accurate: Princess just liked him.

A call from Vernon came through right as Wonwoo was getting into bed last week, to which the rambling boy had impetuously thrown out, “yeah, I got an invite to Her’s best friend’s birthday dinner or somethin’ like that—what was her name again? Penelope? The sexy dark skin girl with the braids? Anyway, I told her I’d love to go, but I’m gonna be out of town for a few days in November. Said I could hook her up with a couple MDMA bombs, though. Y’know, as a gift.”

Thus, that concluded the story of Wonwoo having to sit at a rather large and reserved candlelit table in an expensive, esteemed restaurant, surrounded by some friends and strangers alike, with a plastic baggie of hard drugs shoved into his pants pocket that he couldn’t stop worrying about. Vernon had wanted him to leave it with Princess when appropriate. Most people invited were going to the club later in the night—Room 319—which he figured could only be survived by going buckwild off ecstasy. As his knee continued to ricochet underneath the tablecloth, Wonwoo was soothed by your hand sliding over his thigh.

You gave him a solicitous glance, smiling with care. “Why don’t I just put it in my purse?” The offer was whispered amongst the conversation.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but flit his eyes around the table, ensuring no one was giving his general direction a lick of attention. The waiters and waitresses would pop from the blue every now and then with bottles that seemed glued to their hands, scouring for anyone who needed a top up on alcohol. His glass had been seldom touched for the past half-hour.

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“Wonwoo,” you deadpanned at him.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh my God—just give me it. It’ll take me two seconds to dig it out from your pocket and shove it in my damn purse. Besides, I can’t enjoy myself when the anxiety is emanating off you in waves.”

His knee immediately stopped jerking. Wonwoo looked you straight in the eyes, the stiffness turning him into straw. “Is it really?”

“Yes!” You laughed quietly, your head hunkering down on his shoulder for a brief moment. “Now, give me it please. Pretty please.”

Sliding a hand into the smooth pocket on his pants, Wonwoo began fishing out the small plastic baggie while puffing, “fuck—alright.”

“Gosh,” he heard you mumble while discreetly taking the capsules from him, rustling them into your purse, “you could never be a drug dealer, could you? How are you even friends with Vernon? That dude probably walks around with sample sizes taped to his jacket.”

“It’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo was finally able to roll out his shoulders and relax—even give you a humorous little smirk, “I have a way better chance of escaping the drug dogs than he does. I’ll get a nice head start.”

His thigh was met with a slap before your hand pulled away. “I’m acting like I don’t know either of you.”

To be fair, Wonwoo couldn’t picture his bad-mouthed, fairly uncouth friend in a snotty establishment like Terra Cotta, especially considering his ideal places to eat were twenty-four-hour diners and cereal pantries belonging to girls whom he’d just slept with. The restaurant was no doubt beautiful, though it was definitely for the upper echelons who could not only afford it, but also act the pleasant, opulent guise.

At least the table that Princess reserved was a bit more separated from the other tables in the restaurant—it was close to a waterfall built into the wall, encompassed by all sorts of burnish-looking smooth stones.

Neither Seokmin or Mingyu were at the dinner—two absences that no one seemed to be questioning. To Wonwoo, that was a gigantic relief—he assumed you felt the same. Clara was there, seated further down the table, but Bells wasn’t. Seungcheol was an obvious guest, and besides you, he was the person that Wonwoo had spoken to the most since arriving at the restaurant—he’d even given Wonwoo the slip on his secret gift for his girlfriend, which was a two-week vacation to the Bahamas after the winter exam season.

Wonwoo was a little jealous.

He would love for you and him to vacation somewhere.

Maybe even take you back to South Korea.

“So, you guys,” Princess had started a conversation with you and Wonwoo from across the table, hands folded underneath her chin while she smiled kindly between you, “think you’ll come to the club after?”

You pouted at her, “we’re passing, babe. A million sorries.”

“Awe, that’s okay.” She reached across the pristine tablecloth to lay her hand over top yours. “You already took me out for my birthday, anyway. And let me vomit in your washroom for two hours.”

“Mmhm. You’d do the same for me.”

Princess giggled, her grin luminous and wholly genuine. “Oh, of course. I have already done it!”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all about Room 319. The stories I’ve heard about that place—sounds like some shit from a movie.”

“Trust me, you’ll get the entire script in a bound book. I know the club thing isn’t for everyone—that’s why I did the dinner. And I’m doing cupcakes instead of cake! Remember those red velvet cupcakes we had that one night? And then that other night? Fuck—I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn things.”

“Oh, those were fucking delicious.”

“De-licious. Have you ever got to try one, Wonwoo?”

He swallowed, a bit jarred to be welcomed into their conversation that he had been happily listening to from the sidelines.

“I tried one. I liked it.”

Princess gasped at him. “Only liked? Be serious!”

“Well, ask me again later tonight. I wasn’t having it fresh.”

“I will be asking. How’s Vernon? I’m sad he couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, he’s fine. Sometimes he just mysteriously disappears from town for a couple days—I don’t ask because I don’t want to know. But, uh, he did leave me with a gift for you… if you didn’t already know.”

“Oh… oh! Right!” Princess straightened up, nodding. “Yeah, I remember. You can give it to me when we leave. Outside.”

“I have it actually,” you clarified, flickering a transient look at the tiny purse you had moved onto the table,  “when we take a girl’s trip to the washroom, you can have it. The dose is pretty high. I know I don’t have to worry about you and this stuff, but be careful, y’know?”

“Of course. Just make sure you hide the purse in your lap when the waiter comes back. They love offering to take bags and satchels and all that stuff to hang in the coat room.” After clearing her throat with a sip from her pink, frothy champagne, Princess curiously poked at you two. “So, how do you guys plan to spend the rest of your night?”

Wonwoo opted not to speak.

You grabbed your wine glass, swirling the aromatic alcohol around inside while shrugging. “Not sure. It’s chilly out. Hope you don’t freeze your tits off standing outside in the mile long line for the club.”

“That’s what this push-up is for. The padding’s so toasty warm.”

Laughing with Princess, you ended up snorting.

Seungcheol, who was sat beside his girlfriend and had been occupied in speaking to a friend Wonwoo forgot the name of, finally parted from his conversation, turning his head at the last second to hear the giggling.

“Push-up? What are you guys talking about?”

You shook your head. “Nothing—just her bra.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol mumbled, “what about her bra?”

Princess smiled. “Just that with all this padding it’s got, it’ll keep me nice and warm when I’m waiting outside. Perfectly insulated.”

Rubbing a thumb and index finger along his jaw, Seungcheol grinned all relaxed-like while Princess rolled her dark brown eyes at his comment, the gold accents in her inner corners glimmering.

“I bet my hands would be a lot more efficient. Nothing warmer than skin on skin as they say.”

She shoved his shoulder half-heartedly. “Who says that? Now, bedroom eyes away before I make you wear a bag over your head.”

“I don’t see a bag here.”

“As the birthday girl, I’m pretty sure I can request one.”

The dinner officially wrapped up around ten at night. Wonwoo was able to reaffirm with Princess that the red velvet cupcakes were indeed moist and delicious. As everyone stood right outside the restaurant in the nippy, cold November weather, giving hugs and farewells to those who weren’t clubbing, he made sure to wish Princess probably the twentieth happy birthday she’d heard that night. He waited for you to give her another speech about staying safe but still having fun, sprinkled with lots of “I love you’s” and inside jokes that Wonwoo wondered if he would ever understand, before you two left on your own.

Each time he spoke, his breath would come to life in a warm wisp from his mouth, meanwhile the streets lights reflected in the melted snow all over the sidewalk he aimlessly wandered down, with you sticking close to his side. It hadn’t been a heavy snow, at least.

“Be honest,” you said, glancing toward Wonwoo, “how relieved are you that we’re not going to the club? On a scale of one to ten.”

“Is ten the most relieved?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at you, completely unabashed. “Ten.”

Kissing your teeth, you nodded. “That’s what I expected.”

“So,” Wonwoo hummed, stopping beside you at the intersection while waiting for the crosswalk light to change, “what now?”

Your eyebrows raised. “Still want to do something?”

As the cars whipped past, throwing up brisk winds and exhaust into the twinkling city atmosphere, Wonwoo shrugged. “The night is young.”

“What's on your mind?”

“We’re not far from Centertown. It’s maybe a fifteen-minute walk or so at this point. There’s a bar there I want to try. The Honeymoon.”

He was glad you didn’t seem opposed.

“Sure. I’m down.”

Once the crosswalk was open and the floods of people started pressing forward, there was somebody who passed them—somebody who almost went completely unnoticed by Wonwoo until his memory reloaded and he suddenly found himself pausing to observe over his shoulder.

You pulled at his sleeve. “What?”

“Uh, nothing,” Wonwoo replied, wetting his dry lips while heeding your polite tug, “the woman that passed us—she’s dressed exactly like this prostitute that Vernon told me he saw last winter, hanging outside Room 319. She has the heels and everything.”

“What the fuck. Really?”

“Mmhm,” he laughed, “he called her Pink Heels Lady. To be honest, I thought he was lying… but I’m pretty sure that was her.”

“Spooky. Coincidence or fate, do you think?”

Wonwoo glanced at you, seeing the intrigued smile on your face.

“I don’t know, actually,” he responded after the question hovered around in his mind for an oddly long second, deciding to pick up your hand in is, “I assume it’s just the universe working its magic.”

Wonwoo was never particularly into bars, although he could tolerate them much more than a club despite their parallels. The seedy lighting, deafening music, and signature throw-up gutter in the street or alleyway right outside the building was crucial to both, he had realized.

The Honeymoon was a newer bar that had garnered some notable buzz. It was less like a pub, being slightly more formal with a touch of modernity that had landed it just below presumptuous, in Wonwoo’s opinion. At least the music wasn’t overbearing, nor was there intoxicated, flush-faced men hollering at sports teams on televisions that would never hear them. You decided to sit at the counter, sliding onto the heightened chairs and leaving your jackets draped over the low backs.

You bristled, shaking out your shoulders. “I’m cold.”

Wonwoo cupped his hands overtop your icy cheeks for a moment, allowing some of his warmth to seep into your skin.

“A drink will fix that right up.”

“How are your hands hotter than mine? You’re always freezing.”

He smiled at you, letting you have your face back. “I can warm them up at will to your benefit.” Wonwoo joked, bumping his knee against yours. “What do you think of the place?”

Your lip pursed as you glanced around, examining the bartenders filling up glasses with their silvery, shiny spouts, and then over your shoulder at the numerous other tables occupied by the city’s strangers. For a frigid November night, it was quite full.

“It’s nice. The lighting is pretty. Reminds me of Alley Cat.”

“Oh, yeah. Vernon took me there once to celebrate my exams being done, then he got into a fist fight with this university student over something I can’t remember—smashed a glass on the dude’s head.”

Predictably, your eyes rolled. “Only Vernon is getting into fist fights at Alley Cat.”

Wonwoo chuckled. “Well, now he can’t get into fist fights there at all—management banned him and the other guy. Apparently, they’ve got this back wall of people who’ve been kicked out and he’s on there.”

“Figures,” you sighed.

“Oh my gosh! Wonwoo? It’s you!”

At the sound of his name being excitedly called, Wonwoo was soon met with the surprised but cheerful expression coloured to Sierra’s freckled face. He hadn’t forgotten that she worked there, but he was clueless about her schedule. She looked very pretty, glowing in a halo almost, with her coarse, reddish-brown hair pulled back slick into a ponytail and a crisp, clean black uniform tailored to fit her perfectly.

Wonwoo grinned. “Hey there. I didn’t know you worked tonight.”

Sierra set one hand onto the lacquered wood counter while the other stuck to her hip. “I don’t usually. Fridays are game nights with my little sister. But there was a call-in. A little extra cash never hurt.” The girl’s big, round eyes then flitted to you. “Her, right? I don’t think we’ve ever met formally. I know you’re one smart cookie, though.”

“I’d like to think so,” you answered, smiling back at Sierra, “you were at the party, weren’t you? The one Seungcheol threw this summer?”

She nodded, “I was. I made a few drinks here and there.”

“I never got to taste one,” you frowned, pouting.

Throwing up her hands, Sierra was quick to exclaim with her typical charisma and sugar sweetness, “what! Preposterous! I think I’m pretty wicked at it. What are you thinking of having?”

“To be honest, I’m not looking for anything too fancy at the moment. In fifteen minutes from now, I won’t be able to promise the same. I’d like to start off with a rum and coke, if that’s alright. For now.”

Sierra grinned. “No, that’s perfect. What about you, Wonwoo?”

He shrugged. “I’ll have the same. For now.”

“Well, for now, I’ll start you guys off with two rum and cokes.”

Leaning his elbows onto the countertop, he threw her a question.

“How’s it going with Carmen?”

While she prepared the drinks, Sierra blossomed into a smile. “Oh, it’s going great. She’s genuinely a blast. We’re going to the movies next week—that horror one is coming out, about the swimming pool—we think it’s gonna suck but that’s what makes it fun.”

Once Sierra slid you the cold glass, you tilted your head at her while fixing your lips around the black straw. “Who’s Carmen?”

“My girlfriend.” Sierra answered. “We met here, actually.”

“Ugh, no way,” you swooned, pressing a cheek into your hand as the next drink was given to Wonwoo, “that’s so fucking adorable. Does she ever tell you how beautiful you look in that all-black uniform?”

Giggling, Sierra wiped down the countertop and flushed. “I’ve heard it many times. It’s honestly just a t-shirt and slacks!”

“Well, you’re making it work.”

“Please—my face is heating up! You’ve got quite the gorgeous dress on yourself, you know. I always wonder where you get all your clothes. Wonwoo, have you complimented her yet, tonight?”

Mixing the ice cubes together to hear the satisfying clinks using his straw, he answered easily. “It was the first thing out of my mouth.”

Sierra nodded in satisfaction. “Good! Well, I won’t hover. But if you need any refills or have any questions, you can try to flag me down—or ask Jamie! She’s just down there. She’s great at martinis. Later!”

Once Sierra had left to busy herself with tending to others waiting service at the counter, you looked to Wonwoo, lips downturned.

“Jeez, she’s so freaking nice. How come I don’t have that kind of natural charm? Not that I’m not charming. But hers is so… magnetic.”

“Everyone’s got their natural quirks.”

“Yeah, well, my natural quirk is that I’m probably going to down this in the next two minutes. And then have three more after that.”

Wonwoo rubbed a hand to your shoulder, smirking into the glass that he raised to his mouth. “Just focus on the one you have now.”

3 more rum and cokes (+ 1 martini) later.

“No, no—but then, it gets even worse! Because not only had she been lying straight to his face the entire time, so was his best friend! They were seeing each other for weeks and weeks—he had no idea. What gave it away though, was the perfume. He was always telling her not to wear heavy perfumes and stuff because it will leave a scent on the sheets, but she messed up—so they freaked it, she spends the night, and then the next day when he’s over, he goes into his friend’s room looking for a charger and smells the perfume on the sheets! He puts it together! And then, and then—”

You paused, picking up the wide-mouthed martini glass to take a sip in the midst of your long-winded and passionate adultery story that Wonwoo had been struggling to follow for the past blurred time interval, the names now completely lost on his ears. There was hardly anything left in your glass, which led to your frustrated grumble, followed by an attempt to flag down the bartender, Jamie.

However, Wonwoo swiftly caught your hand despite his own impaired state, lowering it back to the countertop.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” He pushed forward the cup of water he requested for you. “The least you can be right now is hydrated.”

Although you weren’t happy about his thwarting, you did yield to the advice and drink some of the water. Wonwoo knew he should probably have some himself after his own splurge on the bar’s pricy concoctions, but he still felt that he was holding up quite well. Before Jamie could whisk by again, he made sure to ask for another cup.

“So, what happened next?” Wonwoo nudged your elbow while you stared off cluelessly, urging you to continue the story.

“What?”

“He smells her perfume on the bedsheets. Now what?”

However, you were suddenly slumping forward, forehead nestled into your hands. For a moment, you stayed like that without word, until Wonwoo couldn’t help his concern and touched at your bare shoulder.

“Not feeling well?”

You shook your head, whining out, “no, no. It’s not that.”

He frowned, scooting to the edge of his chair and securing his arm across your shoulders. His voice was softer and closer against your warm cheek as he attempted to gauge that sour, twisted expression past your concealing hands, wanting to understand your hiding.

“Well, am I allowed to know what’s bothering you?”

Again, you remained silent, biting your lip. There was such tenseness in your body that he could simply feel with just his arm.

Wonwoo leaned back, instead tugging at your wrist. “Can I at least see your face? Please?” You didn’t budge. “Her, you’re worrying me a bit, here. Do you need me take you home—”

“Okay, I have something to tell you.” Breaking abruptly from your husk, you were now staring straight and square at Wonwoo with distinct inebriation cloudy in your eyes, although there was something else too that compelled Wonwoo to bite his tongue and listen. “Honestly, I think I’ve held onto this long enough. And, I’ve wanted to confess this to you for a while now, but there was just so much debris in my life that I needed to sort through first. But you’re beyond important to me, and I just think that it’s time you finally know… so, can I tell you?”

“Um…”

Wonwoo’s throat was suddenly bone-dry and his pulse had spiked to the point where he could feel a vein along his neck start throbbing—he even pondered waving down the bartender for another drink to pacify his growing nerves.  

Ultimately, Wonwoo wouldn’t last that long. Pushing up his glasses, he nodded, noting that you hadn’t blinked once while you waited.

“Sure. Tell me.”

Your upper lip twitched.

“Mingyu’s been cheating on me, for two years.”

Wonwoo was quick to feel all his awareness become dull and drowned. He hardly registered his elbow shifting across the countertop, almost knocking over the glass of water onto the floor, nor did he realize the manner in which his mouth had subtly dropped open. You continued to stare at him with intensity, likely studying every tweak and fidget in his body language before swallowing deeply and choosing to continue the revelation.

He tightened up his jaw, trying to seem firm.

You looked ashamed of yourself as you admitted, “it’s been going on for two years, and I’ve known for about a year.”

“Really?” He answered, sounding mystified. “An entire year?”

“Give or take.”

Then, Wonwoo was shaking his head. His fist had clenched up tight, though it wasn’t the usual automated response that accompanied his anxiety—he found there was immediate distaste and anger swirling together like storm clouds in the pit of his stomach.

Your gaze was cast to the water glass on the countertop, which you moved away for no apparent reason, your expression emptied.

After a frail sigh, you continued, “do you remember that day I came into creative writing and got super upset at that guy for sitting in my seat? Remember how we talked about it at the nature museum, and I told you that I had a fight with Mingyu before going to class?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, that day, I tried bringing it up to him. And it totally didn’t go over how I thought it would. Mingyu denied it all… of course, I only had some vague but suspicious texts to go off of, which he explained his way out of pretty poorly. But I just accepted it for the sake of our relationship. And I never brought it up again until… you know.”

Wonwoo let a natural, stagnant silence fall in between you, meanwhile the encompassing atmosphere was kept flowing by the various conversations of those around you—seemingly happy—with plenty to drink as they kept warm from the bitter cold just outside.

He was biting his tongue, though he couldn’t hold the question any longer, piquing his, “do you know who he was cheating with?”

A huff shot straight through your nose.

“I know…” you mumbled, “and you know her, too.”

Suddenly, a name popped to his mouth without thought.

“Bells.”

When you didn’t confirm nor deny, opting to stare off to the side to conceal the emotion springing forth, Wonwoo knew it was solid truth.

“Fuck…” he cursed, grazing his hand across the smooth leg that was folded over your knee, “I’m so sorry… I’m at a loss for words.”

You could only sigh while a glossy film developed in your eyes.

“I mean, I’ve been through all the stages already—grief, denial, acceptance—whatever the other ones are—so I don’t know why I’m still getting so choked up about it. I obviously didn’t want to believe it… I mean, who the fuck does? Especially when you truly do have feelings for that person.” Shaking your head and sniffling, you exasperatedly flicked out a hand. “Her and her stupid sparkles. That was when I really started putting it together. Oh, I’m going out to play poker, babe! And the next day, I’m wearing his sweater, and I realize there’s these fucking little bits of glitter on it, inside it—it was like a fucking beacon that was just screaming at me—hey! Your asshole boyfriend is cheating!”

That was something Wonwoo had noticed himself, after Bells had bumped into him at the party—the girl’s adoration for sparkly clothing and makeup essentially left behind a glaring trail of glimmery breadcrumbs. Wonwoo had found them on his clothes once he took them off and could really see the fabric underneath the light. The confession suddenly painted your actions that night in a new colour.

Rubbing against your temple, you explained further despite the struggle to speak over that clogged sound coming from your throat.

“It’s not like I’m stupid, either, even if right now, in this situation, I seem like it. I know what Bells is like… she’s spoiled rotten—always has been—and is used to getting whatever the fuck she wants. But, you see, that’s the thing! That’s the fucking thing! Seokmin, Clara, Bells, even Princess—I only met them because of the webs my parents have in their business world. I was never really allowed to find my own friends. It really just shows how much they had a say in my life… don’t misconstrue, I truly do love Princess and she’s by far the most normal, grounded person amongst them. She actually listens, and cares. But I was only allowed to befriend her ‘cause my parents know her parents.

Mingyu seemed like the one person I was actually able to connect with on my own… but he’s honestly changed so much. It’s like, my parents were able to get their little fangs in him and warp him. And now… I really don’t think he loves me at all… I think he loves my image, and what I represent, and the opportunities that come with me… but, I don’t think he actually, genuinely loves me like he used to... like, back then, he was so, so sweet. He was always fumbling over himself, nervous, trying his best. I mean, you've read about it! He used to want to be an architect, Wonwoo. A freaking architect! He sketched all the time. He has a closet drawer full of sketch books from when he was younger. But everything's different now. He doesn't care. He hates when I bring it up! He hates me!

And I don’t just think—I know it, Wonwoo. He resents me, but he won’t let go. Instead, he just sucks the life out of me, like he’s trying to get me to hate myself, too. And I do. I guess, as long as I hate myself, it makes me perfect in their eyes. I’ll just keep letting them mould me until I feel complete.”

Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

Hell, he didn’t even know what to say except for the fact that you were right—as long as you always felt subpar, or lacking, or frustrated with your drought of true identity, it would lead you back to the reliance you had on the deceptive characters in your life—it was nothing but a miserable cycle designed to bog you down and snuff you out. At least your tearful eyes had dried up.

You looked at him fondly, with a gentle smile. “That’s what I like so much about you… even if you didn’t intend to—which I know you didn’t, judging from what I’ve heard about you trying to avoid writing with me—” (he bit his inner cheek coyly, casting a somewhat anxious hand through his hair), “—you helped me realize parts of myself that were always there, but only needed some nurturing. You actually encouraged me. Supported me. And—okay—I know I said that I hate myself—but since I’ve met you, I’ve been replacing it with an understanding of my situation. I’ve been kinder. I’ve been more of myself. I like to think what we have is a sort of symbiosis.”

Wonwoo nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Do you think that I’m… stupid… for staying?”

Immediately, Wonwoo’s face furled in disagreement. “No, no. Absolutely not. Mingyu’s been with you for so long. He has an integral quality in your life. It would be difficult to uproot yourself just like that. No one’s a better judge of that situation than you.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

As you relaxed back into the bar chair, Wonwoo could practically see this heavy, dark mist levitate from you and dissipate into the air. He knew that feeling of relief and inner freedom very well, and there was almost nothing that could compare to it.

Wonwoo then sipped from his glass of water, continuing to watch the stiffness melt off you like ebbing spring snow. "So, what was his response like? To your accusations? Was he at least honest?"

"Yeah, I got it all out of him eventually," you revealed with a very cumbersome sigh. "But he was deflecting like crazy... I'd never seen him like that before... he was fumbling his words all over, like he used to when we were first dating. But it was different. It wasn't nerves, it was just blind anger. He said I was no better. I mean, he's convinced we've had sex, and he wouldn't accept my denial, no matter what."

"It's not black and white," Wonwoo said, squeezing your arm, "it seems to me like a natural consequence. You felt trapped and alone."

For a split second, Jeanie flashed in his mind. A sear of guilt snapped through him. Mingyu would have much reflecting to do.

Nodding your head, you looked to Wonwoo and graced him with the words he may or may not have been waiting months to hear: "it's all over now—Mingyu and I—I made that extremely clear. And I honestly don't care what anyone else has to say. My mom didn't want to believe it... she's been acting strange since. I don't blame her."

In response, he merely nodded, warming you up with his gentle eyes.

But then he was shifting forward in his seat, elbows settled to the counter. Although it was quite late and he felt exhausted from drinking, his curiosity about a particular matter was still sharp.

“So… I’m wondering… what's your reason for writing the book?”

You gulped. “I wanted a way of looking back on everything. Seeing if maybe I could find myself somewhere amongst all those memories. Maybe when I started losing Mingyu was when I started losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I was losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I never really knew myself to begin with.”

He shrugged, his face colouring with admiration for you.

“Well... have you found something?”

Your only means of response was a twinkle-eyed grin.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t as dreadful as Wonwoo anticipated, mostly attributed to the alcohol soaking up in your stomachs, keeping your blood warm even in the face of a tough, harsh wind. Back when it wasn’t so late in the night and his lips had yet to touch his first rum and coke, Wonwoo thought he would take himself home after seeing you off first. But now it was almost midnight, and he had this impending feeling of vertigo while he walked, and he was therefore very limp to fight the offer that involved a comfortable stay at your place until morning.

Wonwoo wasn’t exactly sure where he deposited his coat or his shoes, or even his phone—instead he found himself sitting at the end of your bed, listening to the muffled sound of a running sink behind a closed door as you were busy in the washroom.

He leaned over, removing the glasses already slid down his nose and rubbing a palm into his eye until stars traversed the length of his vision. So, Lady Liberty was a cheater. For the past two years. It did bring Wonwoo to wonder what else Mingyu had said during your argument. Did he ever give a reason for cheating? Did he feel boxed into a life that wasn't the enriching utopia he surmised it might be, but he was toughing it out for the sake of success? Was he cheating because he was mad at you or mad at himself?

Or was he honestly just an asshole?

The Mingyu he was familiar with was shifty, and hardened, and image-obsessed, and now Wonwoo knew for a fact he wasn’t delusional for feeling the tension between you and him whenever you were together. God—he could practically cut all the thickness in the air using Seokmin’s nose and serve it like pieces of cake. But Mingyu hadn't always been like that according to your allegories. Deep down there could still be traces of the man you fell in love with, flickering like shiny little minnows beneath murky, clouded water.

But it was too late now.

Fitting his glasses back on, Wonwoo rolled back the sleeves to his crisp white dress shirt, proceeding to take a gander around your bedroom that he hadn’t revisited in quite some time.

The running sink in the washroom across the hall was finally turned off, although Wonwoo had stopped paying attention to the background noise in place of reading your every detail off the walls. In minuscule ways, the room had changed. There were missing photographs from the dresser, your makeup vanity drawers no longer left ajar in your likely last-minuting rushing to ensure everything was perfect. The closet seemed cleaned-out. Emptier than it once was.

“I thought you might fall asleep.”

He jumped slightly, realizing that you were in the bedroom now, setting down your heels in the corner before making a stride toward the closet where the dress over your arm was hung back up.

Wonwoo bit his lip. “I questioned it.”

You smiled, and within that moment he noticed the long t-shirt you were draped in was the dark blue, logoed math shirt, the one you’d picked after sprinting back to his apartment amidst a rain storm. He felt something in his chest swell and ache in response to how pretty you looked wearing it. Wonwoo knew he was staring, blushing, but he didn’t care. You had two of his t-shirts now. He hoped that collection might continue growing. He hoped that you wore them until his scent was naturally replaced by the strawberry sweetness of your own.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” You asked, arms folded.

Slapping a guilty little grin on his face, Wonwoo shrugged. “No.”

But then you started striding toward Wonwoo, uttering out something half-whispered that sounded a lot like “liar”, and now he truly wasn’t thinking about a damn thing, not even his own breath, as you proceeded to slide your arms around his neck and seat yourself in his lap. He was frozen. You hadn’t been this fucking close to him since you two had cuddled during Seungcheol’s party.

But this was worse—this was full-throttle intimacy with your penetrative, fluttering eyes eating up his soul while your bare thighs squeezed the sense out of him, trapping him, testing him.

“Scared?” You whispered, moving your face in closer.

Yes—he was horrified—he couldn’t even speak with you smiling at him so innocently despite the flames you were igniting.

Though, when he felt a wriggle from your hips that seemed to push against him in all the right places, Wonwoo’s hands were immediate on your waist, tight and stilling, and he swore there was a vulnerable, pliant spark in your eyes that he had never seen before. Maybe Wonwoo could have been more polite about the approach, but after waiting so, so long, he felt like a rocket ship rife with fuel.

He kissed you.

In one decision his lips were pressed to yours, and in a kiss that was full of friction and earnest want, he could only dig deeper. Your arms curled further around his neck, to which you slipped in a quick, sharp breath before pouring yourself back into him so suddenly, mouths moulding again and again, spit slickening, noses bumping. He would have paused to take off his glasses, though Wonwoo was in no place to leave your lips for even a second—especially when your playful tongue glided with his and the world around him melted like wax.

Maybe he was biased (or maybe it was love), but Wonwoo swore it had never felt this right to kiss someone. He knew it, somewhere outside himself, far out in the ever-expanding universe and every other version that belonged, that this moment felt destined to happened. Wonwoo had never particularly believed in fate.

But then he wouldn’t know how else to describe you.

His hands itching to touch more of your skin had gravitated to the thighs clenching at his hips. Your warmth and smoothness only made him greedier. As the kissing became messy in the desperation, he couldn’t help but slide his hands to your ass, immediately kneading his cold fingers into the flesh, pulling, squeezing, pushing you closer into him because he quite literally wanted you to engulf his body.

Then, you were gripping at the back of his hair. You had opened up his throat for your wet lips to continue exploring, and Wonwoo felt every suckle and teething bite draw him further from clarity.

Each kiss slithered lower, until you were gradually lifting from his lap and placing yourself onto the carpet floor. Wonwoo had leaned back to tightly fist the bedsheets behind him, although he would never waver his lusted eyes from the sight of you between his spread legs, on your knees, palming him overtop his dress pants while biting your swollen, glistening lip. He almost wanted the camcorder to capture it.

“How does it feel?” You hummed, staying focused on each pressured movement your hand applied to his prominent erection.

Wonwoo chuckled, clearing the huskiness in his throat, “like I’m gonna die.” His head tilted back. “Holy shit.”

Flashing nothing but a conniving, pleased smile, you tended to undoing his belt buckle. Wonwoo was burning up. As you pulled down the zipper to his pants and helped him shift down the waistband to his underwear an adequate distance, he couldn’t process anything but the fact that he might burst like an explosion of confetti the second your hand would touch him.

Except, you opted to sit back on your haunches.

Tilting your head, you smirked at him.

“I would like a demonstration, please.”

He almost choked. “A what?”

“A demonstration,” you repeated, shuffling closer in between his thighs and gazing up much too seraphically through your lashes, “won’t you show me how you touch yourself, Wonwoo? Please?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t produce one stupid fragment of a sentence, or even a word. God—it didn’t fucking help that you took reign and offered to get him started—your hand carefully reaching past his underwear, gripping onto him gently to spring his erection free. A shiver surged throughout his body at the sensation. Hotness spread like molten lava across his face as the result of your lascivious, teasing actions stood leaking and stiffer than wood right before your eyes, which were agleam with thrill and haze.

You seemed as though you were going to pounce on him.

But he could visibly see you swallow the temptation.

“Aww, you have the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen,” you giggled, wrapping a hand around him that was soft and warm, “would it make you feel better if I started you off, then? Gave you some help?”

Wonwoo’s fists were tangled so intensely into the bedsheets he was surprised the fabric hadn’t disintegrated. Holding his breath, he watched you lean forward until your mouth was hovering an agonizing distance over him, only to produce a line of spit that dripped onto his head. His jaw unhinged in a groan. Then you began working the saliva along his shaft, pumping a hand up and down, occasionally flickering your thumb over the sensitive tip only to remove the contact so casually, likely knowing it would rip him apart.

“Your turn.”

He took a second to push up his glasses and shake his head.

“M’not gonna last long, you know,” Wonwoo grunted, at last heeding your request and beginning to stroke himself for your viewing pleasure, “especially after that big display. You fucking tease.”

With an arm slid over his thigh and the drool collecting in your mouth, you couldn’t have looked anymore dazzled by the thirst you were experiencing, your eyes refusing to part from every tug delivered by his own hand. It was a spell, and you were unapologetically under it.

“Mmm, a tease?” You purred, smiling. “I was just trying to help.”

“Were you?” Wonwoo scoffed, pumping faster while continuing to twist up the bedsheets using his other hand. “Rubbing your fucking spit into my cock is tt-trying to help me? Is that what you think?”

“Mmhm,” you answered, straightening up as Wonwoo felt himself become tenser, felt the pressure in his abdomen climb.

He shuddered, a groan reverberating from somewhere deep in his chest. The sound of his fist wetly slapping up and down consumed the room and Wonwoo knew it was only a matter of seconds before he lost it. You were basking in every sound and movement.

“Fuck, fuck, I-I can't—”

Suddenly, you’d pushed Wonwoo’s hand away. His stomach flipped upside down. Before he could recognize the brief loss and regain of pleasure, your suckling, wet, hot mouth was already sliding down around his erection, your grip fastening to whatever you couldn’t quite reach. Wonwoo bit his lip so hard at the sensation that something coppery-warm was tasted on his tongue, although that was the least of his concerns when you were throating him with messy desperation. His hand rested on your scalp, nervous to push your head down too firmly, but once he did, you moaned out so erotically around him that Wonwoo fragmented.

His hips bucked straight into your face while his fingers had tightened at the back of your scalp, feeling every intense throb expand against your throat, spurt after spurt filthy in your mouth. But you were diligent and zealous and Wonwoo knew you were swallowing it all despite the few tears trickling onto his pelvis. His length didn’t leave the velvet, pillowy confines of your mouth until every bit was expertly milked out from him, though had Wonwoo let his hand drift off your hair in case you wanted a breath.

With a hiccup and a wipe against your chin, you were tasting the bedroom’s heavy air and exhaling ragged as Wonwoo marvelled you.

“Trying to take my soul with you or something?” He huffed, using his thumb to remove some leftovers from the side of your lips.

You caught his hand in an instant. “No—” you piped up, quick to close your mouth around the digit and suck off whatever he politely removed, laving your tongue like you were licking a popsicle, “—I want all of it.”

He thought he might crumble, hearing you mumble such obscene words while tracks of tears dried overtop your cheeks, your voice sounding somewhat hoarse from the labour of taking him whole.

You were climbing back onto Wonwoo’s lap almost blindly, his next breath taken away by a passionate kiss you pushed so fervently onto his lips. There was another tangling of tongues, saliva mixing together, but neither attempting to take control— though at this point Wonwoo would gladly oblige to throwing you on the bed and twisting off those frustrating panties he imagined were sticking to you. He could feel your arousal dampening through the baby pink cotton as his length twitched back to hardness underneath you.

“Wonwoo,” you whined breathily into his ear while grinding your hips against him in search of friction, “I’ve got to tell you something I did.” You bruised up his neck with more kisses. “Something bad.”

His eyes were shut, hands continuing to grope your ass. “Yeah?” He mumbled, feeling your tongue drag across a vein in his neck. “You did something bad? What could that be?”

Your hands drifted down his chest, yanking open the buttons on his dress shirt in satisfying pops. Warm, feathery breath hit his ear. “That day I stayed the night in your bedroom… alone…” you kissed him on his mouth, letting it linger and last, “I couldn’t help it.”

Wonwoo had gripped the side of your face, meanwhile he rubbed underneath the waistband to your tiny, thin underwear.

“Couldn’t help what?”

He flinched as your hand sunk down to grab his cock.

“I touched myself,” you confessed just an inch from his face, “I laid back against your pillows, spread my legs all wide… I had my fingers stuffed so deep inside myself, but it still didn’t feel like enough.” Again, you were softly stroking him. Wonwoo continued to uphold that unwavering, painfully honest gaze you were pinning him in. “Nd’ I came all over your t-shirt, Wonwoo. I played with myself until my fingers were cramping and my legs couldn’t stay open anymore.”

He gulped—heavy—like swallowing a chunk of lead. His tender thumb grazed along your cheek and rubbed over your puffy lips. “I wanted to fuck you so bad that night,” Wonwoo soothed your confession with another, which was already quite obvious, “I dreamt about it. I wanted to bury myself so fucking deep inside your gut.”

You shook your head, eyes teary. “Why didn’t you?” He felt the delicate stroking motion along his erection come to a pause.

Wonwoo cradled your cheek. “It would have fucked everything up.”

“But I wanted it,” you whimpered. “I’ve been wanting it for so long and you just left me there. I would have been quiet. You could have put me face down in the pillows and just used me all you wanted.”

“No,” Wonwoo argued, “I would never want to use you. I want us to be together in everything. I know you wanted it. But lust makes you think different. Just like it’s making you think different right now.”

He softly slotted his mouth with yours, exchanging a much slower, sweeter kiss that lit a glow in his belly. You puddled right into the contact, curling your arms back around his neck to hold him tighter.

Much lighter kisses dappled the edges of your lips.

Wonwoo could feel you start to smile.

“I figured something was off the next morning,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t know how to face with you without thinking about it. I felt so dirty. But in the moment, I needed something.”

He nipped down your slender neck, letting his hot breath and reverberating, husky tone tickle your skin until your hairs stood up.

“How wet were you?” Wonwoo purred, smirking.

Immediately, your hips were pushing down on him. “Soaked,” you then whispered, “I was making such a mess. I tried so hard to be quiet. But part of me wanted you to hear.”

Wonwoo’s hands drifted up your t-shirt, gliding slow against your stomach, coming to reach the plump, sensitive breasts that he could only surmise were waiting for his attention. He cupped them in each palm, giving a tender squeeze and pull that pitched your breath into a squeak. Caressing your neck with more wet, open-mouthed kisses, he felt the absentminded grinding reignite the friction between you.

“Did you touch up here, too?”

His thumbs brushed your pert nipples. He felt you shiver.

“Y-Yes.”

Tsking his teeth, he pleasured them with slow, rubbing circles that you mewled in response to. “You’ve got the softest skin. I could touch you until I die, and it still wouldn't be enough.”

“Mmhm,” he heard you exhale shakily, “I touch myself at home, too. Put my pillow between my legs. Pretend I’m grinding against you. Then let my fingers take me again and again until it hurts.”

How dare you fucking say that to him—how dare you put such an intimate visual in his mind to haunt him like a ghost to hallowed grounds. How many times had you done it? How many times had you stood right in front of him, smiling so innocently, despite knowing damn well what you had done to yourself the night before.

Wonwoo pinched your nipples, watching you flinch.

“Does it hurt right now?”

You nodded.

“Where?” He lowered his voice, sinking his hand back down the creases in your tummy until it paused right on your mound, his eyes trained to your suddenly very desperate, misty look. “Down here?”

“Yes.”

Holding eye contact with you, Wonwoo trailed his hand further along your panties until his touch was situated right between your thighs, directly feeling the wet fabric, the radiating heat, the aroused pulsations. Your fingernails were pricks in his shoulders.

“Fuck, you are drenched, aren’t you?” Wonwoo commented, rubbing his hand against you through the cotton material, your hips soon chasing the overwhelming pleasure. “Can feel you throbbing against my hand, you know that? Bet it aches so fucking good, hm?”

He grinned hard at your eyebrows knitting together. While he massaged you with one hand, the other gripped your chin where he pushed a hot, uncoordinated kiss onto your whiny mouth.

“Lay across my lap,” Wonwoo whispered in between the hasty break for air, “let me play with you instead, make you cum. Please.”

To his delight, your compliance came easily.

It didn’t take long for you to splay yourself in the desired position, with Wonwoo pushing up the shirt to bunch at your waist while your bottom was perfectly presented in his lap. He massaged you, leaning down to mark a trail of kisses along your lower back, along your ass—spreading you wide to see the large, soaked patch glistening on those easily rippable underwear.

“Just open your thighs a bit more,” Wonwoo instructed, to which you quickly listened, “fuck—perfect—all this, only for me.” He pushed his thumb against you through the panties and you instantly squeaked.

“Right?” He urged. “Is this all just for me?”

“Mmhm—yes, yes. I fucking promise. Just for you.”

Wonwoo bit his lip to stop the size of the immediate smile from breaking across his face. Your hips wriggled up as his touch drifted away.

“I need more,” you groaned in frustration, “please.”

“More here?” Wonwoo pulled back on one side of your glute to help reveal the sensitive area, then rubbing his thumb against your clit.

Your entire body jerked, and he noticed your fingers dig into the bedsheets, clawing them up. He figured the wet friction between his thumb and your panties was frustratingly amplifying every little sensation in a dull but very cruel way. He continued his ministrations, adding some more pressure for you to squirm and moan at.

“Does it still hurt?” Wonwoo asked, letting his other hand slide up your bare waist, the skin beginning to sweat and turn even warmer.

“Please,” you groaned, attempting to adjust your hips against the stroking from his thumb, “I feel like m’gonna fucking die, Wonwoo.”

“Still need more, then?”

“Yes!”

Deciding to throw you a bone, Wonwoo grabbed those thin, pink panties in his hand and helped you slide the constricting fabric down and off your legs. Once he spread you nice and wide, let the cold air ghost the slicken, swollen skin, you had gasped. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t speak—he only stared at you with all the stars in the universe collecting behind his eyes, glittering like a snow globe—at how beautiful and exposed and needy you looked.

He let his fingers slide ever so slowly along your clit, drawing up to your hole, then pushing back down to hear you whimper brokenly.

Wonwoo swallowed the dryness in his throat.

“Do you have any fucking idea how beautiful you are?” He complimented, his fingers soaking in your arousal. “I knew your cunt would look pretty, but this is more than that. God…” experimentally, Wonwoo shifted a finger gentle into your opening, giving the digit a wriggle and few shallow pumps. Immediately your intense warmth clenched down tight before loosening, engendering him to effortlessly press in two more long fingers. “There you go… good girl…” he mumbled his encouragement as you gripped the bedsheets and moaned a guttural sound, “taking in my fingers so fucking well—they slide in so easy… make such perfect, dirty noises whenever they fill up this gorgeous cunt.”

His thumb touched at your clit, lending it some attention that had you twisting and bucking back to receive even more pleasure.

“God, Wonwoo…” you gasped, sounding lost to the ecstasy while letting him take his time with mapping out your inner walls with curious strokes, “that feels so fucking good. You have no idea. Feels like m’gonna pour all over you.”

He grinned, further stimulating your swollen clit, maintaining the pattern as you propped up on your elbows, tugged at the bedspread, and released a mellifluous, shuddering moan from your throat.

“F-fuck ye-yess…” you whined as his fingers squelched deeper and his thumb continued its circles, “yes, yes, yes, keep doing that—oh-oh, fuck! M’gonna cum all over your fingers—m’gonna make a mess!”

“That’s all I want,” he breathed, his chest tightening at how much arousal was pooling sticky around his digits, “that’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted—make a mess all over me, like the pretty, desperate girl you are. Let me see it. Let me feel everything. Cum just for me.”

Your entire body proceeded to seize, Wonwoo’s fingers now struggling to pump, as this striking wave seemingly coursed through you and resulted in heavy fluids wetting his dress pants. It took a moment for you to power through the pleasure, though Wonwoo was at least able to maintain his stroking gestures against your clit until he noted the sharp, almost spastic twitches in your muscles.

“That’s a good girl,” Wonwoo hummed in satisfaction while he gingerly eased his fingers out and left your poor, throbbing bud alone.

He smoothed his hand down your back, offering you a moment to relax, breathe, and ride out the electricity.

“Fuck,” you wiped at the sweat on the back of your neck, chuckling at the discomfort, “I can feel it all between my legs.”

Wonwoo smirked. Hard. He bent forward to peck your temple, then brushed his lips against your stinging hot ear. "How about I clean that all up for you?" The velvety whisper caused your body to jitter.

"Clean me up how?" You turned your head, catching his eye.

There was a swap of positions. Wonwoo lowered himself to the bedroom floor, the carpet spongey against his knees, while you lay down on your back and draped your legs off the edge of the bed. But he was hungry for you, and greedier than a treasure hunter, and you went limp as he hitched your knees over his broad shoulders.

Being face to face with your intimate heat was like the kiss of life—new energy was taking over him—giving him desire unlike any other.

He didn't know if he wanted to keep staring at you, your soft skin messy with slick and twitching anticipatorly at his closeness, or if he should stop prolonging the moment and just bury everything into you. Adjusting his glasses, Wonwoo licked his bitten lips. You were in the midst of shuffling up to your elbows, likely wondering what the hell he doing, staring between your thighs for so long.

But as quickly as you squeaked his name, it was interrupted by an intense gasp a second later. You leaned all your weight onto a single elbow, tossing your head back, panting for dear life as Wonwoo striped his tongue long and flat against your heat. His hands gripped your hips, sculpting them over your bone while he tasted your arousal, all sticky and musky and delicious to the point of addiction.

"O-Oh my god, Wonwoo," you cried, letting your body collapse onto the bedsheets, limbs becoming jelly, "that feels fucking amazing."

He licked into you like he were trying to reach the centre of a sweet, colourful jawbreaker. Every pass from his tongue was firm, encompassing, smothering you in pleasure and painting you with spit. But you reacted best when he toyed his ministrations around your sensitive clit—your back would jolt off the bed, arched, as your thighs hugged him tight—Wonwoo heard your begging akin to a distant echo. He would even smile into you, glasses all foggy, chin running in wetness, as you preached his name dumbly, losing your mind. Wonwoo pressed his mouth hot against you, flicking his tongue to your overstimulated clit, focusing hard on his pattern.

"Fuck, fuck!" You shouted, writhing into the sheets. "Please, Wonwoo. Please, please, please—I'm—I'm gonna cum! Please, just—k-keep—"

There was a surge of something warm and liquid that Wonwoo wanted to drink like a peach's nectar. You were throbbing right under his tongue and he loved it to a point that felt utterly insane. He didn't want to stop even if the world was ending. His face plunged in deeper, his hands grafting into your hips harsher, completely ignorant to your fingers pulling at his hectic locks of hair. Wonwoo only wanted you and nothing else and he was going to drown in it.

But you were attempting to sit up, your sweaty body becoming better at escaping his eager, hungry licks that dug into your slit, and once he heard you wince particularly sharp, he knew he had to stop.

He sat back, removing his glasses and wiping off his chin. You slid a leg from his shoulder, using a foot to gently prod against his chest—a light scolding for perhaps enjoying you a little too much.

"Are you starved?" You laughed heavily, gulping down a breath.

Wonwoo fit the glasses back to his face. "For you? Yes." He then licked at his teeth and lips, still yearning to find traces of your arousal, only to realize you were shaking. "Shit—I'm sorry if I hurt you." Standing up, he cupped your face, bending down to kiss you gentle on the lips over and over. "I'm so fucking sorry. You taste amazing, that's all. And you're so beautiful. I couldn't fucking help it."

With a giggle, you tousled his hair. "No, I'm fine. I like a little pain." Your eyes were back to shining. Then, you caught his mouth, stealing another kiss. "But I’m even greedier than you—," pushing yourself up, you nipped at his lips, “—and I want that pretty, long cock inside me to hit all the right spots.” The exchange had you seated back in Wonwoo’s lap, where your bare, soaked pussy was free to brush against his straining and achingly hard length.

“Yeah?” Wonwoo smirked, welcoming your spit-smeared mouth.

Feeling your hips grind against him, you purred, “yeah.”

“I’ve got no protection,” Wonwoo admitted in between the make-out session, hardly able to pry your lips from one another as you slid backward on the bed with Wonwoo climbing over top.

Helping to shove off his dress shirt and slacks, discarding them to the floor, you shook your head. “Don’t need it.”

Returning the gesture, Wonwoo had you fully undressed. The entirety of your bare body on full display felt like something sacred—an artwork that had been crafted with unimaginable attentiveness to every single detail, no matter how miniscule. He couldn't liken it to anything else in his life but a distant memory from childhood—a grand mausoleum that he found himself inside with his older brother, the ceiling intricately chiselled with angelic, satin-like bodies.

Your words seemed distant. It took a second for him to remember.

“Don't need protection? Why?"

As your hands locked behind his neck, pulling him down close, you dug into his eyes with an emotional gaze. “Finish inside me.”

He stuttered, furrowing his brow, “seriously? You won’t—”

“No. I’m taking precautions, you know.” Brushing at his dampened, thick hair, you asked, “have you ever had unprotected sex?”

Wonwoo scoffed, surprised at the inquiry, “yeah. But—is that—you really want that? With me?” He stared down at you intensely.

“I only want it if you want it, too.”

He nodded, biting his lip, taking a moment to examine your perspiring face alongside the the rising and dipping of your chest.

“I want it,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, “I definitely want it.”

Truth be told, a splinter of nerves had lodged into his chest at the thought of having to perform to your anticipation—Wonwoo was never really sure if he would ever get intimate with you—and as his gaze again streamed your body, he felt overwhelmed. But then your fingertips were stroking down his bicep, seemingly drawing out the forthcoming anxiety from him like you were pulling out a thread of energy, and the easygoing smile he was met with tamed his heart.

Wonwoo eased closer toward you, allowing your expert touches to be the guide. Your hand had returned to his length for a few more thorough and especially lentamente tugs, prompting him to hiss into your neck while very flushed shades of pink crawled up his face.

He felt himself throb, wanting to simply collapse against you and climax at your hand for the second time. To make matters even more complicated, Wonwoo felt you shift slightly, and then the tip of his impatient cock was suddenly gliding all slippery like butter along your folds. Wonwoo’s arms started to shake.

You laid your palm gentle against his neck.

“How’s that feel?” You whispered in a trembling breath, meanwhile continuing the heavenly ministrations of tracing your clit with his length. “I-I think it feels quite nice—getting you all wet.”

“Amazing,” he answered, pressing his forehead to yours and pecking at your lips, “you want me to take it from here?”

Keeping silent, your grip drifted from his erection and you seemed satisfied to let the control sway now that Wonwoo was adjusted. Just before he aligned himself, however, he looked at you and laughed.

“Can you push up my glasses real quick?”

You chuckled, “seriously?”

“What’s wrong with wanting to be see you properly?”

“Nothing,” you flashed a tender smile, then using your finger to help position the glasses back up his nose, “there you go.”

Wonwoo proceeded to slide himself inside you at a slower pace that allowed him to bask in the intimate sensation—he made damn sure every little squeeze, flutter, and convulsion your heat cushioned him with was felt—though that made it considerably hard for him not to release in pathetic fashion, before he had even made a good, swift thrust. You were soaking up the moment just as much.

He didn’t want to advert his eyes from the pleasure cascading like ripples across your face for even a second. Once he was buried in still and deep, completely stuffing you to the hilt, your breath had fogged up his glasses.

“Fuck—s-sorry—” you squirmed through the apology, your hips occasionally canting against his in unbridled twitches, “—I can hardly fucking think right now. Do you know how much you’re throbbing?”

He choked out a hoarse laugh, “do you know how insanely good you feel to me? Feels like m’gonna fucking break into a million pieces. ”

“I want you to break me into a million pieces,” you whined so needily, looping your arms around his neck, “fuck me, Wonwoo. Please.”

He was positive you had told him that in a dream once.

As euphoric as you felt clenching around him, Wonwoo truly did want the sex to last. His thrusts into your heat weren’t frantically impatient, rather they grooved incredibly, purposefully deep—each stroke was thoughtful but hard, slow but timely, and judging from your high-pitched keens and the nails scraping against his shoulder blades, he knew you were appreciating the moment just the same.

Wonwoo grasped your sweaty hands in his, your fingers interlocking tight, in order to hold them against the sea of silky pillows above your head. With another especially daggering thrust that made his teeth clench and his abdomen flutter, you had jerked and cried out his name, followed by a breathless, “rr-right there!”

A leg wrapped around his hips, your ankle digging uncomfortably into his side while he continued to push his length into the spot that was making you howl. But it was getting increasingly difficult to continue the tempo—your leg was tightening around him like a boa constrictor and your warmth was clamping down with plain strength, almost as though your body was attempting to lock him inside.

He merely squeezed your hands harder, losing his breath. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Taking advantage of another thorough stroke, Wonwoo had the bedframe thudding the wall, his words hotly pressing into your ear. “You’re trying to keep me suctioned in.”

Your whimpers were falling apart like crumbling clay. Wonwoo tried to understand what it was you were mewling at him, something involving his name, how good it felt, that he should keep going, meanwhile tears were springing to your eyes and wetting your glimmery cheeks. Wonwoo bit his lip. He was throbbing wildly inside your heat, knowing you were only getting dumber and turning incoherent as he speared you so intimately on his cock.

Wonwoo wasn’t going to last much longer and neither were you. He was already feeling himself burst and break—the convulsion ripped through him like a landslide and now your leg was fully hooked around his hips, pinning him against you while he emptied himself disgustingly deep inside your warmth.

The sensation must have triggered your own orgasm, because his cock felt like it was practically being suffocated as you squeezed down on him. Wonwoo thought he might blackout when you whined his name into the dim bedroom humidity, strung in a loud, trembling lilt that cracked beautifully in the middle.

Your arms were winding back around his neck, pulling his face to yours, a kiss crushed onto his awaiting mouth.

“I need more,” you panted in between the kisses, “don’t feel full enough yet. Cum inside me again, Wonwoo. Please, take me again.”

“Again?” He smiled, his glasses bumping your nose. You were completely uncaring, only nipping at him harder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my fucking life.” Suddenly, you were wriggling underneath him, rolling onto your stomach, and repositioning yourself such that you were face-down-ass-up. With eyes twinkling bright in pure, carnal lust, you threw him a a yearning glance from over your shoulder. “Fuck me again, nice and deep like before." His heart shot into his throat. When you begged, it was like his world was shrinking into a bubble where only you and him existed. "Please—I need it before your cum starts leaking out. I need to be filled by you, Wonwoo. Please.” You looked like you might cry if he didn't oblige the plead.

And so he did, his fingers planting a firm grip on your strong hips.

As much as you were willing to take, he was willing to give, finding himself submerge further and further into the intoxicating nature of it all until he started to lose his mind—all he knew is that it was concerningly late at night, your bedsheets were sticky and ruined, and you had gone from being thrust into the pillows to slapping yourself down on his cock while Wonwoo hazily watched. He loved the sight of your sweat, your glowing light, your bouncing breasts and pleasure-drunk face far too much. At some point, you had slumped forward into him, spent to fucking hell.

With your chests were pressed together, his cock still throbbing and stuffed inside you, there was a moment of nothing but thick, laboured breathing and heartbeats synchronizing. He kissed your temple and wrapped his arms around you, proceeding to mumble something sweet and half-asleep that contained your name.

You had squeezed his length unforgivingly in response.

“Fuck—don’t get me hard again. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I like when you use my name.”

He smiled into your cheek. “I can tell.”

Wonwoo had woken before you.

Mostly because the bedsheets had been gradually wrapped up and tugged away and progressively stolen from him during the night, letting the cool, morning air dust over him like spray from an ocean. You were a fidgety sleeper, he had realized, sometimes even a mumbler, although Wonwoo had never been able to discern what it was you were sluggishly declaring in your dreams.

He turned his head to you, saw the bare groove of your back, shapely like a flower petal, and your arm dug underneath the silk pillow, observing every breath your unconscious body took.

Then, Wonwoo was leaning over you, feeling his fingers sink into your fleshy waist while his lips touched a kiss against your warm cheek. He hoped you wouldn’t mind him using your washroom for a shower.

Afterward, Wonwoo retraced the apartment, finding his shoes a questionable distance apart—one stood square at the front door while the other was left in the hallway leading to your room. His winter jacket was tossed over the arm to the couch, meanwhile his phone involved a more in-depth search. For some reason, he’d left it atop a shelf beside the television, hidden by a clumsy stack of textbooks.

When he tapped the screen, it illuminated some text messages from Vernon that had been sent at around two in the morning—mostly inquiries about the birthday dinner and whether or not Wonwoo had bothered going to the famed and mysterious Room 319.

Though, he opted not to respond, realizing the details he wanted to share with his friend would likely require a sit-down discussion over burgers, fries, and sodas at Solar Pop. Making his way back to the bedroom, Wonwoo carefully creaked open the door to find you half-shoved onto an arm, making tired circles against your eye.

He smiled, coming to sit beside you, handing off the glass of water he poured for himself.

“Are you leaving?” Was the first question you blearily pieced together after accepting the water but not drinking anything from it.

Wonwoo shook his head. “No.”

You managed to sit up properly, the sheets settling around your hips while you continued holding onto the glass. For a moment, you seemed to just observe Wonwoo, your eyes still swollen from sleep.

“Where are you going, then?”

He furrowed his brow. “Nowhere,” Wonwoo laughed, pulling one leg up onto the bed. “I got up to shower. Went and found my things. Got a glass of water, which you’re now holding, by the way.”

You swallowed, looking down at your lap.

“Oh…” after a recollecting pause, you took a sip from it.

Wonwoo smiled, his eyes softening like fresh brown sugar, as he proceeded to unstick some matted hairs from the edge of your face.

“You’re a pretty big sheet stealer,” he said, continuing to spread his fingers about your features, removing fluffs and rubbing off bits of dried spit, “and you seem to like talking, even in your sleep.”

“Oh, yeah… I should have told you that.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I liked not knowing.”

“Did you?” With a laugh and smile, you drank some more water.

“Yeah. Because it’s you, it makes me adore it even more.”

“I don’t always mumble. I swear. Only sometimes.”

Wonwoo didn’t care. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I guess I should shower, too. Then I’ll change the sheets and get new ones on.” You abruptly raised the blankets at your lap, lifting up a leg to examine something Wonwoo couldn’t see. “Yeah, I definitely need to change the sheets… oh! And take my pill. Fuck. I can’t forget.”

“I can help with the sheets.”

“Okay,” you said while leaning forward to pull open a drawer on your nightstand, revealing a thin, silver cartridge of pills, “thanks.”

After you had showered and gotten dressed in a clean spare t-shirt, you changed the dirtied sheets to your bed together.

Then you and Wonwoo spent some time together in the open, bright living room, lounging on the couch. Maybe you had kissed a few more times, and maybe his naturally cold hands had found their way underneath your loose t-shirt to curiously massage and press along your pretty chest, and maybe you had kissed a little more after that while the sun rays slid up your sensitive skin.

You twisted away from Wonwoo’s lips with a giggle.

“M’kay, that’s enough, or else I’ll need another shower.” You grabbed at Wonwoo’s hands that had been squeezing your breasts.

Although he didn’t want to stop, he listened, relaxing against the pillow he had stuffed between his spine and the arm of the couch, now throwing an elbow behind his head. You were leaning back against him, getting comfy between his legs, and for a few minutes or so, the two of you gazed out those large, floor-length glass windows into the awakening, snow-capped city.

He felt you stir against him.

“You know… sometimes you don’t always speak English.”

Wonwoo itched his eyebrow, chuckling, “what?”

“Last night, like, when I was riding you—” your head tilted back onto his shoulder, beaming him a smile, “—you would start switching languages. In between English and Korean. It was so cute.”

“Oh, yeah.” He adjusted his glasses, staring down at you while his cheeks became rosy. “I don’t know, it’s just something my brain does automatically. I don’t always realize I’m doing it.”

You grinned; eyes sparkling. “When it feels too good?”

Ruffling a hand through his hair, he simply smirked at you.

“Having a front seat view to the most beautiful girl in the world riding me just happens to be something that makes me feel really good.”

You pushed your head up to kiss him, followed by a sweet and brief whisper that he smiled at, “compliment appreciated.”

A few more quiet minutes passed. Wonwoo thought he could spend the entire day just sitting on the couch with you warm in his arms, watching the snow tumble down like wisps of tender willows.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mm?”

You got quiet.

Then, your weight against his chest was gone, and you had half-turned yourself around to look at him, seeming nervous.

He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered, glancing down briefly before soaking him back into your agleam eyes. “I just want to apologize, actually.”

At that, Wonwoo stiffened. “Yeah? What for?”

With a sigh and another anxious moment to fiddle with the rolled-up cuff belonging to his wrinkled dress shirt, you were reserved.

“Ever since we fought, I can't help thinking about it. I mean, I’ve thought about what you said, and the fact you apologized, and explained yourself, and how you gave me time to process it all. You gave me so much grace, even when I felt like I hated you… but… I also said some hurtful things about you… I mean, back then I felt like you deserved it. And, I don’t know… maybe you did? Like, maybe we both needed to just be there, screaming at each other, digging our guts out, throwing up all this stuff to the surface because no one else has ever given us that freedom or made us feel like we could before. Anyway, I just feel like it’s only right that I say sorry, too.”

Scratching at his neck, Wonwoo swallowed. He never thought of it like that. “Uh, sure. If that’s what you feel you need to do. ”

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I really, truly am.”

He smiled, grasping at your hand and threading his fingers with yours. Pangs of regret were flooding your eyes, filling them up until they were undoubtedly teary and Wonwoo had to wipe it all away.

“It’s fine, I swear,” he whispered, moving in closer to you, brushing at your cheek as you sniffled. “Nothing has ever truly changed how I feel about you. You’re incredibly firm but sensitive, and have such fiery passion, and you’re curious about everything, and I know that it hurts so much to live without really knowing yourself. But I see you, and I feel like I know you. I never want to stop knowing you, alright?”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

Your mouth pressed against his, and he tasted the salt from the tears that beaded down the slopes of your cheeks, warm with life.

“I love you.” He felt the whisper touch at his lips. “I really do.”

Wonwoo held onto your face like he was cradling a big pearl. “I love you, too.” Another kiss sealed the expression into felt, tangible emotion. “But honestly, you already knew that.”

Later in the day, you came up to Wonwoo as he ate lunch at the table, only after having disappeared into a distant office space further down the hallway. You dropped before him a clear, plastic duotang, which held a notably thick stack of papers that had quite a weight to it upon picking up. It only took a few flips into the papers for Wonwoo to realize that it was the completed book he used to proofread for you—a series of chronological memories between yourself and the boyfriend you had gradually drifted apart from.

True to your word, you had forged ahead and finished the book alone.

He was proud to hold the evidence.

Wonwoo asked what you planned to do with the book now that it was done. He even wondered if you might let him read some parts he never got to work on, though he understood if you preferred to keep the contents private. As he was in the middle of lifting a hot spoon to his mouth, Wonwoo suddenly paused at hearing your response.

“I think I’ll just shred it.”

You didn’t seem to care.

The decision came easier than pressing a button. There was only one copy of the book, apparently, and you had plans to turn all its pages into literary confetti. But that was a very you thing to do, Wonwoo had come to accept. Writing served many purposes, and it seemed that the purpose you had sought out was met. Somewhere, in all those paragraphs, sentences, letters, and ink, you found the fulfillment you had always ached for. At last, you struck a glimmer of promising gold after digging through all the haze and confusion.

“Sure,” he answered, “shred away.”

—8 MONTHS LATER. END OF JUNE.

“It looks so pathetic!”

“What?! No it doesn’t!”

Peeking up from the mason jar of earthy blue water he’d been swirling together using some dirtied paintbrushes, Wonwoo saw you seated across from him, talking to a very dismayed, upset twelve-year-old girl. Sierra’s little sister, Cora, had enrolled in his landlord’s ceramics class over the summer, and thus every Saturday evening she spent her time moulding unwilling chunks of grey clay alongside other similarly aged students. It was only Cora in the shop since she had been the last to get her teapot in the kiln, taking extra time with every minute detail.

Though, despite her care and attentive pace, Cora was still not pleased with the teapot, leading her to grumble and shake her head.

You were sitting beside her, a hand rubbing along the little girl’s back while she continued scrutinizing her creation. Ever since you moved into Wonwoo’s apartment back in May, Saskia had quite liked you more than her average tenant, and that somehow transformed into an offer to help her teach the summer ceramics class (with pay).

Wonwoo was always there to assist in the clean-up afterward—his favourite part was submerging all the greasy, bristly paintbrushes into a clean jar of water so that he could watch how their colours bled out in thin, swirling hues.

“No, no, no—it’s just bad.”

“I’m telling you. It’s not.”

Cora picked up the lid to the pot, then placed it back down. “There—look—it doesn’t even close properly. And the spout is not spouty enough… it’s too thick, I think. Hardly any tea will go through!”

“Well, I really like it.”

Tucking a tuft of poofy, rust-brown hair behind her ear, Cora gave you a suspecting and funny sort of look that made Wonwoo smile to himself. She was a very shy student, but she talked to you the most.

“You say that about everything I make,” Cora sighed.

“So what?”

“So…” she nibbled on her small lip, looking off to the side, “you have to say that, because you're nice. You’re like my mom. She says she loves everything I make. But then why don’t I ever love it?”

“She loves it because you made it, obviously. And she loves you. I think love changes how we look at things. Even the impractical.” Then, you picked up her teapot and moved it closer. “You know why I like this teapot? Because it shows you’re determined. I mean, look at all those bowls on the newspaper over there—you’re the only one who did the teapot! And you did it mostly by yourself. You wouldn’t even let me help you roll out the clay. So, that’s why I like it. Because I see you in it. And when you tackle it again, you’ll know what to do differently. Plus, you know you can ask me for help, right? You know I’ll always help you.”

The little girl’s freckled face suddenly became less twisted with judgement and frustration. She set her elbows onto the table, scratching at a Hello Kitty bandaid along the back of her hand, while you gave her hair a quick ruffle. Wonwoo started drying off the paintbrushes using paper towel before moving them into the cup labelled “clean” with a piece of tape.

“What should I do with this, then? If it won’t work,” Cora asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But for now, just leave it with the other stuff. We’ll give it a nice glaze next time around. Make it even prettier. Then you can decide what to do with it—whether or not you want to keep it or smash it on the ground. It’s up to you, Cora.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “Why don’t you turn it into a miniature flower pot or something? Fill it with soil and plant something in it?”

Cora raised her eyebrows. “I like that idea, actually.”

“Me too,” you said, shooting Wonwoo a sly wink that he smiled very stupidly at, “look at this guy over here. Lurking with his good ideas.”

By the time Sierra was available to pick up her sister, Wonwoo had officially finished cleaning all the paintbrushes and whittling tools, as well as replacing the tablecloth with a fresh one. The three of you stood at the base to the shop’s very small stoop, exchanging some general conversation while a sleepy Cora held onto her sister’s hand and leaned her seemingly heavy head against her side.

The sky was a tame yellow shade, not as bright as a buttercup, but something delicate of the like.

“Hey—I heard you guys are planning a vacation!” Sierra chirped, adjusting the car keys in her hand, “is that all true?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, flashing Wonwoo a soft smile, “uh, we decided that we’re gonna spend some time in South Korea. I haven’t visited his family at all. But, yeah. Gonna leave start of August and come back right before October. So, a pretty good chunk of time.”

“No way!” She exclaimed.

“We’ll see how it pans out,” Wonwoo commented, sliding his arm around your waist and digging his fingers into your hip. “But my brother won’t shut his mouth about meeting her. And my parents are obviously curious. Besides, there are some great places I want to show off.”

Sierra shook her head. “I’m jealous. And totally sure you guys will have a great experience together. We’ll miss you here, though.”

“Please do,” you laughed, and Sierra pinched your cheek.

She then looked down at her sister, who had her eyes shut.

“Okay, I’m gonna get this little dove home. Thank you so much for helping her at ceramics by the way. She talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” You touched at your face, seeming flustered. “Well, I love helping her out. She’s a sweet girl with a lot of will on her shoulders.” Lowering your voice, you moved in closer to Sierra. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a cute gift she can have while we’re gone.”

After parting ways with Sierra and Cora, you and Wonwoo returned upstairs, back into the apartment to prepare for supper.

Both of you were feeling particularly lazy, and the shiny red tomato he was supposed to chop ended up being ignored in place of eating ice cream straight from its tub.

You were the one who grabbed it—Wonwoo was only following suit as he picked up a spoon and curved some out.

Something else interesting about you that Wonwoo had learned since moving in together was that you didn’t really care to ever sit on a chair, even when you were eating. It was either the sofa, the floor, or the kitchen table, in which you would be holding onto your food even though he always thought how easier it could be if you did sit down properly. The quirk was fun, nonetheless, and Wonwoo had admittedly started looking at the kitchen table in a different light after he proceeded to give you oral on it one night. Consequently, it bloomed a very dangerous habit between the two of you.

A habit that might become drastically less accessible once you two jetted off to his native country for over a month, confined between his parent’s cozy home where he grew up and the two-story apartment his wealthy brother and sister-in-law owned in the glittering heart of South Korea’s Seoul. He was nervous. You were nervous. But at least you were together.

Over the months, your parents had gradually come to accept him as your boyfriend, even if they weren't exactly warmed up to the idea at the start. Wonwoo revisited your home a few times alongside you to help in the explanations of your story and future prospects, although he partially understood that Mingyu was like a precious sapphire to your family and having him out so suddenly was hard to stomach.

He spent years nestling himself a comfortable burrow and smoothing out the bumps to make a crafty façade that, particularly your mother, couldn't help but outwardly adore. Like a son. Like Seokmin, too.

Wonwoo thought Mingyu might give him trouble.

In truth, he'd scarcely seen him, unless transient glimpses of his towering, quickly bustling figure from across a university campus or city street were noteworthy. Obviously, he wasn't inside Mingyu's head and he really had no inclination as to what the boy might be thinking on the occasion he spotted you and Wonwoo hand-in-hand at the park, or sharing breakfast at the café along Sunnyside.

But if Mingyu maintained even half the feelings that Wonwoo did for you, then he was positive it hurt like fucking hell.

Of all people, Wonwoo supposed he himself knew best.

—AUGUST 1ST.

“Wonwoo!”

He closed his dresser drawer, almost slamming his fingers inside. Your voice echoed from the living room, sounding hectic.

“Yes? What’s up!”

“The taxi’s here!”

Fuck. He immediately thought. The time was flying by.

Wonwoo had made a gigantic list of what to pack, but over time he kept adding and taking things away from it. Now, it was early morning, soft rain and cracks of bursting light coming down outside, and he was doing a final clean-sweep of the bedroom as well as his poorly scribbled list to ensure everything he needed was with him.

Quickly approaching the window, Wonwoo glanced outside to see the cab parked at the curb. Fuck. Again. Vernon always said he would happily provide you two a ride to the airport, but then the boy was unsurprisingly wrapped back into some trouble, and Wonwoo hadn’t seen his best friend in over a week.

Graciously, however, Vernon had given him a heads up and a proper goodbye beforehand. He’d even left him a voicemail to listen to, which immediately jumped into Wonwoo’s brain at random as he scrambled around the bedroom in search of his phone.

“Just give me one more minute!” Wonwoo shouted.

There was a pause on your end, and then a sigh.

“Do you need help?”

“No—all good. I promise. Can you let the cab driver know?”

“I will.”

“Thank you!” Wonwoo sang, finding the phone blended into his bedsheets, then proceeding to open his inbox. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” You shouted back. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

He let Vernon’s message play while also tossing his suitcase onto the bed, stuffing in a few more last-minute grabs with utter clumsiness.

“Heyyy, Glasses! How are things? I’m shooting you this cute little message at arounddd—oh! Looks like it’s two in the mornin’! It’s two in the fuckin’ mornin’ and I’m pulled up outside this dude’s house all ‘cause he can’t pay me back for my good, hard services. It’s nothin’ serious, though. Don’t get all uptight like usual. You know I’m good at handlin’ stuff and keepin’ my cool. Probably my better qualities. Anyway, I’m bored as fuck. I’ve spun this Lloyd CD about four times and I just can’t listen to that dude anymore. He can sing, though.

I am pissed you’re leavin’ me. And I’m pissed she’s leavin’ me, too. You guys are what I look forward to whenever I drive down into that shithole city. Well, I think just about every city’s a shithole city. In fact, the city I’m in now is probably more of a shithole… Seokmin texted me the other day—said he wants to talk—which is vague as fuck and to be honest, I’ve been ignorin’ it ‘cause I can’t get myself to give a god damn. But maybe I’ll hear him out. That guy was a cutie, wasn’t he? I still think you’re a bit cuter. And better at mini-put.

I’ll miss you a lot when you’re down there… it got me thinkin’ about the night when we first met. The New Year’s Eve party. You remember that pretty well, don’t’chya? I saw you come in with those guys—they didn’t look like your crowd at all—but then after a while you were alone. Wanderin’ around. It didn’t even seem like you knew anyone else was there. You had the blankest look on your face. Like you were stuck in a loop and you didn’t even know it. I don’t know that I felt pity or anything… hell, maybe I felt a little. I just talked to ‘ya ‘cause I wanted to know if you knew where you even were.

You knew you were at some stupid, loud, awful fuckin’ house party jammed with unfamiliar faces. You knew how much you hated bein’ there. But I don’t think you actually knew how you got there, or why, or what was supposed to happen next. It kinda drew me to you. I wanted to understand it. And you gave me the weirdest look, too, when I stopped you. But once I got you outside, away from all the bullshit, you loosened up just a bit and I realized I was talkin’ to this smart, well-rounded, thoughtful guy who was just a little lost in the weeds.

I know you didn’t really care about me like that. I was just some jumped-up weirdo who could give you mint weed at a sweet price. But I still liked you… I dunno… other people see you differently when they care a whole lot, don’t they? I guess they see things about you that others can’t, or they know exactly what you could be when others don’t. They see stuff even you can’t see. It’s like a superpower, I think… my best superpower is probably makin’ girls giggle. I’ve got a lot of charm, wouldn’t you agree? Ha—anyway—stay safe on your trip, tell Her that I’ll miss her a lot, too—oh! Oh!

Fuck! That’s it. That little fucker is comin’ outside—he can’t resist his two am darts on the porch. God bless you, nicotine! Okay, uh, guess this is me hangin’ up on you. Later, Wonwoo!”

At that point, everything Wonwoo needed was packed. But he’d taken the additional time to complete Vernon’s voicemail, now sitting on the edge of his bed while staring out into the early, glimmering rain shower and the water droplets collecting against his window.

Then, Wonwoo glanced down at the laptop he had open.

He hadn’t written in… months. Not even months—it had been over a year since Wonwoo wrote. And, somehow, it felt good not to write.

It felt necessary to step away from the craft.

Besides, writing would always be there. Just because he hadn’t filled up a document on his computer with harmoniously arranged words, or penned anything down in the journal he used to scribble poetry in, that didn’t make him not a writer. In fact, it could be crucial to know when to step away from something—when to let go of an invisible weight keeping one from progressing. While he hadn’t thought about it in months, it floated to the surface of his mind that there may be something he should let go.

The unfinished book. 01.

Wonwoo deleted it. Simple as that.

Shoving the laptop into his shoulder-sling bag, Wonwoo made sure to knab his journal from the nightstand before he left, just in case anything did excite him with a crack of inspiration as he embarked on his newest chapter with you at his side. Rolling his suitcase hurriedly behind him, Wonwoo rushed out onto the street, feeling the rain graze his hair and skin, while you were leaned against the cab, arms folded and teeth anxiously raking over your bottom lip.

He peppered the cab driver in apologies while he helped shove the suitcase into the trunk.

“Liar—” you grumbled after sliding into the cab, undoing the buttons on your coat, “—you said one minute, not one lifetime.”

“I know, I know,” Wonwoo laughed, removing his glasses to rub off the mist and dew, “but that voice mail from Vernon distracted me.”

“Let me do it,” you said, taking his glasses with a sigh, “we should be fine. I know we’ll make it on time… I guess I’m just on edge.”

He watched you massage at the lenses gently with a sleeve. The driver climbed back into the cab, now pulling away from the pottery shop and driving toward the beam of light that sliced through the dense clouds, like the sun was handling a giant blade.

“Everything’s gonna work out, I promise… and I already told you that we’ll be staying with Bohyuk first, right? Him and Nari?”

Handing the glasses back to Wonwoo, you nodded.

“Yeah… god—I hope he likes me.”

“Oh, he will. You guys are pretty similar, actually.”

The look you gave him warbled slightly.

“What if that’s a bad thing? Every time you tell me a story about your brother, it usually involves you loathing him for something.”

“Those stories took place years ago.”

“But the feelings are still there, aren’t they?”

Wonwoo settled his hand over top yours, giving your fingers a soothing squeeze. He knew you wanted to make the perfect first impression. After all, first impressions were not something that could be easily taken back or erased, unless the people you were meeting were quite forgiving. And Bohyuk was fortunately the forgiving type.

It was only time that Wonwoo exercise the quality as well.

Leaning in close to your face, Wonwoo gazed into your eyes, watching their frantic nature become still like the surface of a calm pond.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, alright?” He murmured.

Huffing out an intense, long breath, you nodded.

“Alright… can I have a kiss, please?”

Lifting his hand to graze against the side of your cheek, he paused to admire your beauty for a moment, only to properly cup your face and push his lips to yours—which tasted sweet and balmy—before feeling you push back firm. He proceeded to give you another soft kiss for good measure, one that cured you to smile all fluttery and coy against his mouth until he was inevitably smiling, too.

In fact, Wonwoo only ever found himself smiling that hard when he was with you.

—END.

heyyyy :] ramble incoming...

first and foremost, ABOVE ALL ELSE, i just want to say thank you! i know this was a very, very long fic for me to be uploading on tumblr. this site is not the most fanfic friendly (or creation friendly for that matter) so stomaching the fact that this needed to be split up into so many parts was like a dagger to the heart! for those who decided to buckle up and lock into this journey, i honestly thank you so much <3 life was not always kind in the process of writing this (hence the fact it took me 2 years, plus some extra) but i was so dedicated to seeing this story through! a lot of the frustration i was feeling toward myself was funnelled into wonwoo's character, so this is quite personal :3

nonetheless, i hope there's something, even a single thing, someone else can take away from the story as well! both wonwoo and her as characters introduce their own unique themes--wonwoo (at the core) is more so about learning to let go in order to progress, whereas her is about using creative tools to help guide the search for identity. i think that writing has helped me learn a lot about myself (even uncomfy, icky things) so i wanted that to be represented through her.

of course, these are not the only things they stand for! but these are the elements i based their characters on, to which other concepts sprouted from. i also loved the idea of pairing someone as lost and misguided and emotionally stunted as wonwoo with this girl who seems so bossy and firm. at first he doesn't like it, but that was really what he needed to accept some of the flaws holding him back. idk if you're familiar with the EXCUSE ME! HE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES! meme but that's what comes to mind when i think of them xD

additionally: special shout out to vernon. he became a much bigger part of this story than i originally intended. he is in some ways wonwoo's foil. vernon knows he's flawed but that's sorta his strength and what makes him genuine. he witnesses wonwoo's entire journey, so at times he also feels like our role, the "reader" and gives wonwoo some wisdomy parting words without rly knowing it (but that's part of his charm <3 i don't want vernon's emotional intelligence to be underrated, which is also an ode to the conversation wonu & her have back in the museum. wonwoo knows there are different types of intelligence and emotionally he is lackinggg).

also small s/o to seokmin. SORRY! HAD TO DO IT!

this has been my slowest slowburn! i wasn't sure how late they were going to kiss. but i didn't want to force anything. i wanted to add the moment when i felt it was surely right! also, if you haven't yet listened to the playlist and you're curious, i recommend listening to the very last song, writer, by ellie goulding. i've been listening to that song for many years, and one day it hit me how coincidentally her lyrics overlap with some of the fic's storyline!

i think it adds a nice final touch <3

LASTLY!

upon contemplation, i will be uploading this fic to ao3 in the same chaptered format it's been posted here! i realize the convenience to bookmarking on that site (and it also doesn't give people's phones a heart attack when trying to read something lengthy) so i hope that appeases some of you who wish to reread with more leisure! i'll be under the username @/uglypluto!

i'll upload the final chapter (this chapter) to ao3 probably between late sunday & early monday.

THANK YOU x100! 💕

[sojutrait]

my for rent family's morning routine ✨

okay here's their backstory gyuhjfgk

jameson schaeffer and mayra villanueva are hs sweethearts who accidentally conceived their daughter wren during their junior year of college. it wasn't ideal timing but they made the best out of the situation and even finished uni. after bouncing from shitty apartment to shitty apartment they landed at a slightly less shitty apartment after the birth of their son andres, the birchview apartments! they're still trying their best to make ends meet but they're staying afloat.

jameson schaeffer - 23, good, bro, socially awkward

working as a night school teacher, jameson stays with the kids during the day and going to work at night. meaning, he's only staying awake due to many, many cups of coffee. he doesn't have much time for hobbies but falling asleep on the couch with a beer in his hand and the hockey game on is the closest it gets.

mayra villanueva - 24, nosy, creative, outgoing

born to run her etsy shop full-time, forced to work at target, mayra hates her job and hates mornings even more. soon as she's off the clock she's busy doing any creative venture she can. most notably, jewelry making and painting. she hopes to someday to be able to quit her retail job for good but that's not looking viable at the moment.

wren schaeffer - 3, wild

as a daddy's girl who's been spoiled rotten, wren has been kicked out of 3 pre-schools for various infractions (usually biting), so now she stays at home with dad during the day.

andres schaeffer - 18 months, calm

just a lil guy chillin. he doesn't even mind when wren tries to put him in a cardboard box and ship him away

[chaos-is-beautifvl]

𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lip gallagher x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: if there is one notable trait of lip gallagher other than his over-the-top cockiness and brains, it’s his disdain for all things lovey-dovey. but what happens when someone comes around who turns his world upside down?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1964

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i quickly finished this wip so i could meet my goal of posting at least one fic per month. next month will definitely have more writing but i hope you all enjoy this very late valentine’s day fic

check out my other lip fic, distractions here and my writing here! preview to my new lip fic, stress relief || fic here!

buy me a coffee!

— • —

Lip has never been one for theatrics or romance or anything of the like, and he prides himself on that. He thinks of himself as a simple guy who doesn’t need much charm to get laid.

So why is he standing in line on a cold, bitter morning to buy flowers?

When he met you, Lip had sworn off getting attached or dealing with girls who would be attached. He had dealt with so much drama and crazy exes over the years, and honestly, he was over it.

But, somehow, you had wormed your way into his life, or rather, him into yours. Something about the chase - you not wanting him and him wanting you - made the idea of being with you even more intriguing. Now, he knew no meant no, but after a month or two or three of him pursuing you, you finally obliged.

Unbeknownst to the brunet, your want for him didn’t suddenly start after he chased you. From the beginning, you’d found an interest in him, but unlike the previous girls he’d dabbled with, you weren’t looking for a wham-bam-thank you ma’am situation. 

You weren’t a sap. You loved your rom-coms, but you weren’t looking for Prince Charming to swoop down and rescue you. You certainly could save yourself. So, what were you looking for? You wanted someone who didn’t care about holding your hand but wanted to. You were looking for someone who wanted you for you and not what was in your pants. And that’s why Lip was not the person you had in sight.

You had too many people in your life who wanted you for the wrong things, and though you were strong enough to kick them to the curb, it hurt a little. You watched rom-coms, so of course, you’re a bit sensitive. And you’d be lying if you said those movies didn’t affect what you wanted in a partner.

So when Lip came around, all smirks and cockiness exuded, the only thought that crossed your mind was: “Hot.” Lip might have been hot, but he wasn’t so hot that he clouded your judgment. You’d quickly deduced that your interests were not aligned and didn’t even spare him a second glance.

Okay, that’s a lie. You thought the guy was hot, so saying you only looked once is incorrect. But there’s a difference between looking and fucking, and you certainly were not fucking him.

But sure enough, after getting to know him, you felt your walls crumbling down. Gone were the days when you would ask your coworkers to inform you if he came into the shop so you wouldn’t be unprepared. You liked the unannounced visits. 

You took the whole self-love thing pretty seriously, so before you let someone into your life, who could easily hurt you without hesitation, you wanted them to deserve you. Seeing his dedication made your heart skip a beat faster than you would like. And every time he showed up, you found a smile creeping on your face.

At one point, your manager even asked if you two were dating with how often Lip came around. He was a regular at your job and a constant in your mind.

He always came down to the little shop you worked at, chatting you up until the customers came in. Even then, he’d be staring at you, pulling faces and winking until you would roll your eyes and turn your head to hide your grin.

But despite the numerous butterflies he unleashed upon you, you were still hesitant, and rightfully so. Though Lip had proved himself to be caring, both of you knew that this whole dating and being romantic thing wasn’t him.

So, that’s why, when Ian was thinking about what he should get Mickey for Valentine’s Day, Lip knew what he needed to do. 

The idea was so foreign to him that he felt like a dumbass, but with the number of rom-coms you forced him to watch and how you fawned over the courtship, Lip pushed the discomfort away. After all, you were the only “normal” girl he’d ever been interested in that was interested in him too.

With how fast the news spread in his family, it didn’t take long before everyone asked about you - where you were from, what you were like, why you wanted to be with him, of all people. The last one had lowkey offended him, but he couldn’t disagree. 

You were special. You were the kind of person someone like him rarely came across, and he wasn’t letting you go that easily. Not if he could help, so brave the cold he did.

Lip was blowing hot air on his hands to warm them from the crisp winter air. He debated walking away and picking you some dry flowers from the ground but decided against it when he reminded himself that you deserved better than that.

Just when he thought his joints would lock in place, the line dissipated, the last person escaping the cold with their flowers in hand. Finally, it was his turn, but as he approached the stand, he was immediately overwhelmed by all the different shapes and colors.

His eyes scanned over the entire display as he fidgeted. Lip thought it would be easy to find you a bouquet of flowers, but it was proving to be more difficult than he thought. He racked his brain for any memory of you mentioning flowers you liked, but he came up empty.

“Can’t decide?” The seller asked, a hint of a smile on their face.

Lip laughed shortly, “Yeah, something like that. There are so many fucking flowers.”

“I like to have a variety. You’d be surprised how many people ask for the oddest flowers.” The seller watched Lip’s eyes flit from section to section before offering a reprieve. “What do you have in mind?”

Lip shoved his hands in his pockets, brows pinching together. “Uh, shit, I don’t know. Something purple, maybe?”

“Purple?” They clarified, nodding. “I can work with purple.”

As they readied their supplies, they nodded over to Lip. “Is this your first time? Buying things like this?”

The brunet suddenly felt exposed. “That obvious, huh?” He asked though he was sure his constant shuffling and wide-eyed expression answered his question.

“I’ve been doing this for a while, picked up some people-reading skills. For one, you look like you might throw up.” The scents were making his nose twitch. “And two, you’re nervous as hell. That usually means one of two things: you’re just awkward, which I totally get, or you don’t want to fuck up. I’m going to take a guess and say it’s the latter, right?”

Lip smirked, “Yeah, you got me. I don’t do this whole,” he removed his hands from his pockets to gesture to the wide display of flowers “romantic thing if you couldn’t tell.”

The seller smiled as they delicately placed the flowers together. “Oh, no, I definitely couldn’t tell. So I'll take it that this person is pretty special, huh?”

The brunet nodded, his smirk morphing into a genuine smile, “Yeah. Pretty special, yeah.”

“What’s so special about them?”

He had no idea where to start. There was so much Lip loved about you. “So, this girl, right? She’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, and honestly, I don’t know what she sees in me because I can be a piece of shit sometimes. I’ve never really felt obligated to do this for all the other girls I've been with before, but the thing is, with her, I don’t even feel obligated. Like, she’s not forcing me or some shit. I just want to, you know. She knows I’m not into all this sappy bullshit, and I doubt this is the last place she’d expect me to be, but I don’t know, it just feels right.”

Lip had been rambling about you for so long that he hadn’t even noticed that the seller had finished the bouquet and was listening to his words with a smile. “Ah, love is a beautiful thing.”

His eyes widened more than they had when he approached the stand, and the look of shock on the brunet’s face sent the seller into boisterous laughter. Lip’s words came out frantic. “I mean- love is a strong word- I don’t know. Maybe?” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it, kid.” The seller handed over the bouquet. “But you talk about someone like that, don’t let them go, ‘kay?”

-

All the way to your apartment, Lip thought over the seller’s words. He didn’t love you. Really, really like you? Sure. Love? No. Absolutely not. He just enjoyed your company, and you made him smile even on his bad days, and you didn’t give him shit whenever something came up with his family and-

Shit. He might actually love you.

He didn’t have long to ponder when the door to your apartment opened. Your roommate was on her way out when she bumped into Lip. 

“Oh, hey,” she said. Lip nodded in acknowledgment, adjusting the gift in his hand, which caught her attention. “You got her something for Valentine’s Day?”

Lip looked down at the bouquet, “Uh, yeah. Is she here?”

“Yeah, you know her, never leaves the apartment. But it's sweet of you. She’s a major sap, so she'll love it.” Lip was glad to know your best friend approved. He never sought other people’s opinions, but he knew you valued hers.

“I’ve got a date to get to, but I swear to whatever you believe in that if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you.” 

Now, Lip wasn’t easily deterred, but the smile on your roommate’s face as she threatened him had him slightly concerned. You saved him when you emerged from behind the door with a knowing smile. “Leave him alone. You’re going to be late.”

Your roommate checked her phone. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” She innocuously smiled at you before giving a silent warning sign to Lip, and it was then that he knew he needed to walk around eggshells when it came to her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Lip produced the flowers with a smirk to hide his nervousness. Though he had been hesitant about getting you the flowers, watching your face light up made waiting in the cold and getting threatened by your roommate so worth it. 

You gushed appreciation, the smile on your face growing wide as you placed your flowers in a vase after inviting him inside. Lip watched you with a smile of his own as you added water and set it on the window sill.

You approached him with a simpering grin. “You must really like me, huh?”

He thought back on what both the seller and your roommate said. He wouldn’t just do this for anyone. But for you, he’d stand out in the rain if he had to.

He squinted his eyes, bringing you closer to him. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe I need a little convincing.”

You hummed, leaning forward to press your lips against his. You pulled away, leaving him chasing after you. “Only a little, right?”

“Maybe a little more.”

You kissed him again, this time more heated than the last. His hands circled your waist as he deepened the kiss. Your fingers found purchase in his hair, weaving through the messy tufts.

You were about to show him how convincing you could be when your phone chimed loudly, disrupting the moment. Much to his reluctance, and yours, you separated from him to check the message.

“use protection, kids,” was the text from your roommate. You showed it to Lip, who only donned a smirk as he reached for you again.

“Looks like we should take her advice, dontcha think, babe?”

———

click here for a preview to my upcoming lip fic, stress relief!

fic here

[zer0wzs]

𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣 ("𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮!")

[ gn!reader ] it's your birthday and your boyfriend is unfortunately not physically present. however, some other people have plans. jason todd x reader [ also heavy reader & batfam i guess ] wc: 2018 cws: n/a!

an: was supposed to post this on my birthday almost two weeks ago but i couldn't finish it on time because of a lot of stuff LOL

As you sip on your coffee, you finally take a look at your messages. 

It’s empty for the most part—save for a few birthday greetings from friends and a few messages from scammers about how you won a car (jokes on them; you don’t even have a license!). There’s one message that catches your eye immediately, though.

j 🫀 | 00:00 happy birthday baby 💖💘🫶🫶 really sad that i still wont be home for a couple more days i’m gonna make it up to you every way possible i’m all yours when i get back 💘

You find yourself smiling at his messages—of course because of the content of the text itself, but also for a lot of other things, from how he greeted you at the exact moment of your birthday to how he’s picked up some of your texting mannerisms to his very limited amount of number of messages compared to yours.

You | 09:03 awwwwsshwhJSJFHG 💖💖💖 i love you so much jay!!! imysm pls love come backk… 😞😞😞  ur team better use their time with u wisely u quite literally wont escape me once you step foot back in our apartment

Not giving much more thought to your reply, you continue on with your work, thinking on the side what you’ll do after. Your friends aren’t coming over; they’ve been assigned to meet on Saturday so that you have the whole day to yourselves. Still, you feel like treating yourself a little.

Curing this thought, you find that after work, you gravitate towards the hominess of your favorite thrift store. The owner is an older man who keeps the place the same as it has been since its establishment years ago.

The selection is far from filtered, a completely random selection for the most part, but it adds to the charm. However, his daughters usually help out, and you get to chat with them. They’ve known you as a regular now.

You slip a pair of headphones on and get to work, sifting through a few racks of clothes, shelves of trinkets, and stacks of records. Your jacket, or rather a coat, is wrapped around your waist to make your awfully formal self stand out less in the sea of people in the cozy shop.

You pick up some things mostly for yourself, but a few also with Jason in mind. No reason in particular, but if he asks, it's a welcome-back gift. You found a vinyl pressing of Comalies by Lacuna Coil—something you vaguely remember that he’s been looking for a while now.

Speaking of him, you mindlessly open your phone, hoping to see a message from him.

Nothing. Oh, well.

The walk is only a few blocks away, but your arms are slightly worn from the sifting through the aisles of items. You’re sure you’ll make it, though, even if the bags full of finds weigh a little heavy in your hands. Once you make it to your floor, you can just feel the exhaustion radiating from your arms. You could use a nap right now,

“YN!” You see Steph jump the moment you turn the lights on.

The whole apartment is decorated, decked in classic birthday decor—like balloons and banners. You note a few heads rising from the place they previously were from.

You know, coffee’s good, too. It’s only 6 PM.

As you eye around the room, the picture becomes clear: there are quite a few members of Jason’s family here—notably Dick, Steph, Cass, Tim, Duke, and Damian.

They all look at each other, uneasy. A moment later, a garbled chorus of birthday greetings is shouted. 

“Thank you. I’m flattered.” You mumbled, setting your bag of thrifted goods down as you closed the door. “How did you all get here, though-”

“Good question.” Steph nervously laughed, leaping to your side and hooking an arm around you. At this point, the rest of the family wave their hellos before finalizing a few pieces of decoration. “Come on! We made dinner—or, well, Alfred did.”

“Oh, is he here? Where is he?” You said, your lips turning to a smile. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, you recalled.

“Sorry, he’s at the mansion, busy tending to the old man.” Steph sighed, noticing your excitement.

“Ah,” you nod, still very up in your head. You’re overwhelmed, frankly, but still grateful as ever. To be honest, you’re not the best at receiving surprises like this. “Thank you, though. I’m just a little, well, surprised.”

“Of course,” Dick hummed, quickly joining the conversation between the two of you. “We knew Jason couldn’t make it, and we really wanted you to enjoy your birthday somehow. You’ve done a lot for him and for us as well.”

“Oh, thank you, but it isn’t a huge—”

You’re not even in your kitchen when Damian appears in front of you with a stoic look on his face. If this whole thing was set when you first met Jason, you would’ve thought that he did not want to be here and did not like you at all.

Rest assured, though, his siblings say otherwise. They enjoy teasing him and telling you that he searches for your company from time to time. One time, Dick said he was near deadset on inviting you to Gotham Zoo, seeing how they had your favorite animal sheltered there recently.

“Do you need any assistance with those bags?” He looked at you, eyes flicking down to the plastic bags in your hands.

You shake your head, making strides towards the hallway. “Um, no, thank you. I’m just going to carry these to my bedroom-”

Immediately, he steps in and grabs them. “You shouldn’t exert yourself any further. It’s your birthday, after all. I’ll be taking these.”

Oh. Okay. You stand there a little dumbfounded but nodding. It’s not like you can’t stop him either; he’s already making his way to your room.

Your phone buzzes. You open to see it. It’s from Jason. You sigh, knowing he won’t be able to make it.

j 🫀 | 18:24 i’ll be back really soon don’t you worry 💖

Attached to his message is a video. While the others are distracted, you lower your phone’s volume to watch it. You can just feel the embarrassment on his face as he records a video of himself singing Happy Birthday to you behind some dingy place.

How the hell did he even send it from there? Oh, the wonders of reception, you supposed.

You quickly type out a response for him, rocking from the balls of your heels to your toes with your lips only spread out. You couldn’t wait for “a few more days” or something. You also tell him how his family threw a last-minute birthday party and how you can’t be any happier (It just really isn’t visible with the exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders.).

“Is everything all right now?” You hear Dick ask Duke, Cass, and Tim from behind you. You turn around to see them giving him an affirmative yes.

“All right then,” he grins. Steph is pulling a cake from your fridge, and it's only now that you realize that your countertop is filled with your favorite cuisines by Alfred. You worry about the amount of time this took up on top of the rest of the tasks he has to tend to.

They all sing a happy birthday to you, a mixture of liveliness and yet also idleness, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything nonetheless. Sure, your brain might be more than overloaded at this point, but you’re just thankful that they made the collective effort to celebrate your birthday.

It makes you feel a little bad because of all of the trouble you’re more than certain had arisen because of this, but you push that thought back. They don’t need to hear that.

All six of them are standing in front of you, and it only denies your fears of being alienated and inconsequential to the greats who are the family before you. You’re not sure why or how they accepted you wholeheartedly, but God, do you not just take the love that they give?

Your phone rings, and you look to see who it is. You pick up—it’s Jason.

You notice how Steph wants to go back to you once more, but you mumble an apology to her, telling her that your boyfriend was calling. She nodded and headed over to Duke to, what you can assume, is chit-chat.

“Hello! Good evening, Jay-love,” you hum.

Your viewpoints to Dick, who looks at you curiously. Your voice is far from loud, and you do not want to disrupt anything, so you mouth Jason’s name to him before he nods and continues talking to Tim, Cass joining in.

“Hey, baby, happy birthday,” a few words follow, but you can’t hear much because of the chattering around you.

“Ah, thank you. I miss you,” you chuckled. “Could you come again, though? I can’t hear well.”

You hear a chuckle from the other end. “No, it’s fine. I was just saying that I really wish I was there right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply half-mindedly, looking over the group. “Your family’s really sweet. I feel cared for.”

“You are. How could someone not like ya’?”

“Thanks.” You giggle in reply. You play with the ends of your shirt while talking to him, finding yourself leaning against a wall. Breaking the conversation from the sudden end, you spoke up. “So, when again are you coming back?”

“Real soon. Promise.”

“Would it kill you to be a little bit specific? I’m asking you a-” You stand there, giggling, but the banter stops among the family when two hands cover your field of vision completely.

“Guess who.”

Immediately, you know. From his voice to the callouses on his fingertips to the warmth radiating behind you.

“You’re too old to be saying that.” You spit back, not thinking twice about what you were saying.

You hear a dramatic, exaggerated scoff from behind you as his hands pull themselves away. You turn back but do note how everyone’s eyes are fixed on you and the man behind. Only whispers could be heard—you feel your ears redden.

Despite this, have you ever had the ability to contain yourself around him? You dive straight into him and pull him tight. For the first time in a really long while, he’s here. He’s here, he’s real, and you’re not wasting a single second of it.

“Missed you too.” He mumbles on top of your head. He shifts you two so that his back is faced towards his family. “I’m really sorry that it took so long-”

“Tsk,” you put a finger to his lips, taking a step back with his hands finding their way down your waist. “Uh-uh, it’s my birthday, and I want none of that.”

“Okay, okay,” he sighed, a hand climbing up your spine and finding itself on your cheek as the thumb caressed the edges and crevices of you.

“Thank you.” You put a hand on top of his.

“Of course, birthday love.”

On your tiptoes, you give him a peck on the cheek after he redirects you to his lips, discontented with the first kiss from when he came back being so brief. It only lasts a few seconds, but you know you’re gonna get more later.

You feel a tenderness pool inside of you. There’s something about the way he gazes at you—so full of love, so full of admiration you can’t help but give back—that makes you forget that you’re just feet away from his family.

“About the party,” he cleared his throat, hand finding your lower back as you rejoin the rest of the group. “I was the one who orchestrated it.”

You hear a loud gasp from Tim. “Um, no? I was the one who had the idea.”

“I was actually the one who helped spark that idea?” Steph joined. “I think I deserve at least some credit here.

You find yourself standing in a room, never feeling more loved than now.

[cyberpxnk]

compromise | j. yh & p. sh

♡ pairing: seonghwa x f!reader x yunho features yunho x seonghwa and minor yungi x reader ♡ chapters: 1 out of 1 ♡ word count: 11k ♡ rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) ♡ genre: university au, soccer!ateez, smut, established relationship, minor angst, polyamory ♡ warnings/tags: infidelity/cheating, mentions of alcohol and marijuana use, yunho has a big dick, switch!seonghwa, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, pet names (babe, baby, princess), degradation (use of nasty, whore, disgusting), oral (female giving), oral (male giving), choking, crying, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, all the usual goodies

♡ synopsis: your relationship with seonghwa is crumbling before your very eyes. in a moment of weakness, yunho has you succumbing to your desires but you end up getting more than you bargained for.

♡ author’s note:  howdy everyone !! i present to u ... compromise... >:3 likes, comments or reblogs are all greatly appreciated! if u enjoyed this lil tidbit, then dont be shy and drop a request!! or just giv me some good ole luv in the ask box... ♡

Winter has been cold; the winds unrelenting, the showers heavy, but most notably it was the loneliest of seasons. Months filled with ghostly kisses and slivers of physical intimacy that you could only reminisce of for so long. 

Following the arrival of the lively blooms, you prayed for more opportunity as your newfound faith rose with the sun. Spring marks new beginnings — or so they say.  The warm radiance of clear skies and gentle rains grace your heavy heart with hope. Things will be different this time around. Surely. 

You long for Seonghwa's company, but you could never get more than a moment alone with the man. Maybe it was your fault for dating such a busy body, but you don't think so. The first year was filled with lovely memories and unforgettable dates, yet all too fast everything slipped away before you had any control over it. 

Seonghwa is popular, smart, diligent, and responsible. With his final year at university nearing an end, his days were constantly in motion. Juggling a near perfect GPA whilst doing extracurriculars meant he had little to no time for leisurely activities. Leisurely activities included you, his girlfriend. 

As of last semester Seonghwa's schedule went accordingly: Mondays are spent volunteering at the local nursing home. Tuesday through Thursday he works at the dainty little flower shop by the library and Sundays are reserved for homework and studying. On top of it all, there was mandatory soccer practice every weekday evening. 

One would think that left him the weekend to spend with his lonesome lover, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. That's what you wish to believe, but you know better at this point.

"I'm sorry, babe. Mr. Sung had an emergency at the retirement home, I don't think I can make it tonight." 

"Shit! I have a test on Monday, I have to study... I'm so sorry, love. I'll make it up to you!"

"An important client needs me to stay and arrange twenty bouquets for her. I'm really sorry, baby..." 

His apologies came far too frequent, and you had grown tired of his antics. You understand his priorities, but it was clear you were not at the top of the list. You're not sure if you were even on the list at all. 

Despite his negligence, you still continue to try your best for him in the belief he'll slowly begin to reciprocate attention to you as he used to. No matter how demoralized, you still wished to maintain an image as his perfect girlfriend. Routinely you bring him coffee every morning, pack his lunch, attend his practices and games, yadda yadda… All the good stuff.

All of this is done with uncertain optimism though your insecurities are heavily laced in between each action. All you could really do is stay hopeful at this point. 

Come the first home soccer game of Spring, your ass is presently glued to the metal bleachers as you're seated before the field. The players are hustling along the range, gunning for dominance over the ball. Your best friend Mingi sits beside you, the two of you sharing a large throw that's spread across from shoulder to shoulder. 

Even with the rays of sunlight flickering between wisps of sullen clouds, the air still brings a chill with it. Blankets were a necessity at games like these. Huddling with the larger male proves to bring much needed warmth as you're cozying up to each other between idle chatter. 

Mingi is a defender for KQ University's soccer team, but due to an unforeseen injury he has been forced to the bench until further notice. Thankfully, you have each other for company during his recovery. 

Focusing between your small talk and watching your boyfriend, you're caught off guard by your companion's next words and nearly double take at him. 

"You and Hwa still having troubles?" 

You let out a quiet murmur, akin to denial and watch as the ball is passed to Seonghwa. 

"Uh..." 

The blonde maneuvers skillfully along the field before rounding his leg back and swinging precisely, shooting straight into the opposing team's goal. 

Immediately everyone erupts into cheers and you can't help but to join them, not willing yourself to verbalize your answer at the other man's question. A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth. That's your Seonghwa: striker extraordinaire! Boyfriend? Not as extraordinary. 

"You don't have to beat around the bush. I can see it all over your face. You're like an open book," Mingi points out bluntly as he speaks over the roaring crowd.

If you were such an open book then why couldn't Seonghwa pick up on how distressed you were? 

"Just admit it, you guys haven't been on a date in weeks and god knows how long it’s been since you’ve been laid." Although his words sting, you know what he says is true. You visibly wince and give a sharp nudge to his ribs, earning a pained whine from his end. 

"Shut up, man! There's only so much I can do with a guy that busy." 

Folding your arms over your chest, a frustrated sigh comes from you. Mingi has since begun to belt out suggestions, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he does so.

"Just break up?" 

As if it were that easy.

"I don't know about that one..." 

You're only half listening at this point, your eyes scanning the expanse of the field until they fall upon another player who is currently running up to Seonghwa and high-fiving him. 

The man in question is tall, even taller than the giant beside you. He’s also incredibly handsome. He didn't fit the status of conventionally attractive, yet his presence isn’t one you can dismiss easily. With a towering frame and broad shoulders, it’s hard for you not to notice.

And his uniform? God. His sweat laden jersey sticks to the outline of his chiseled chest, fabric clinging and accentuating his lean form. Even worse, the shorts he wore did nothing to hide his set of long, muscular legs. You can feel yourself warming up considerably as you ogle him shamelessly from head to toe.

After their high-five he’s bouncing along the grass with a newfound spurt of energy and returning to his spot by the goal. When the ball is back in play, he takes on a defensive position, knees bent forward as his gloved hands are held out before him. Can't forget the big hands and nice ass too. 

Your eyes flicker to his backside. Unable to help yourself, your stare is glued to him as you swallow thickly once he bends over, trying to ignore the full display of his butt before you. God, what were you doing? 

"Ok, I know you're lonely and desperate but Yunho is not someone you should be thirsting over." Mingi's deep rumble of warning breaks you from your stupor. You tear your eyes from the goalie and meet your friend's knowing expression, cheeks aflame in embarrassment from having been caught. 

"It doesn't hurt to look..." A guilty whisper comes from you as you return your focus to the goalkeeper, only to have your eyes widening in surprise when you're met by his own heated gaze. 

Despite the distance from the stands, you can see a wicked and knowing smirk forming on his lips. As if he can read your thoughts, he readies himself in position once more but not before shooting a sultry look in your direction. Oh. 

"That's more than just looking, babe. As his best friend and your best friend, trust me when I tell you it's not a good idea to get involved." Your companion can't help but to chastise you, shaking his head. Mingi is probably right though. He usually is.

Jeong Yunho is not someone you should be concerned with, yet there is an allusive and alluring pull to him. Everyone on the team is popular in their own right, but Yunho often has people flocking to him left and right. Amongst the boys, he and Seonghwa were probably the two most sought after men on campus. 

The goalie was known for his exuberance and friendliness, attracting attention from all types of people. In truth, it was hard for many to resist his charms. Not you though. You’d like to think you have a decent reign on your self control especially considering the fact you're not single. 

Even if that wasn’t the truth, the issue with Yunho is that he's a known heartbreaker. It was apparent that he didn't date or hook up often, despite his popularity. Even so, that only seemed to heighten his desirability. And regardless of that fact, word around campus was that he was infamous for having a huge dick.

The rumors stemmed from someone who was supposedly lucky enough to sleep with him, though nobody can confirm or deny. Whether true or false, many still try to gun for his attention in hopes of finding out.

Honestly, you shouldn’t even be interested in entertaining the idea. You barely even know the guy, only having chatted with him during practices and at the occasional party here and there. Not to mention you have your lovely, smart, gorgeous, busy… busy… boyfriend. Damn it, you're a horrible person. 

“Fuck!” With both hands slapping your cheeks, you groan out in frustration while sinking into your palms. 

Mingi raises his eyebrows and peers at you with a questioning look. 

“What?” 

“Dude, why am I thinking about Jeong Yunho's supposedly big dick?!” It's his turn to groan while he's rolling his eyes. 

As if things couldn't get any worse, you suddenly feel a pair of eyes on you again. The heavy stare that bores into you is enough of a tell that you don't dare to look forward, the goalie's shit eating grin taunting you from your peripherals. 

"Seriously? Could you have said that any louder? He's literally staring at you!" 

"Shut up, shut up! I know, dude!" 

"Please just... I don't know. Please, don't." 

After that you both sit in silence for the remainder of the game, left to linger amongst your own regretful thoughts. 

It's not long before the bleachers begin to shake as the crowd excitedly stomps and hollers. A roar of cheering erupts from the stands once the final score reflects 4-1, the timer paused on zero. 

In the rush of commotion you and Mingi forget the previous tension and untangle from the blanket, both of you stumbling slightly down the steps. You're quick to steal the throw, pulling it around yourself as you leave your seats, joining the team on the field. 

"Hey! Get back here!" 

Mingi shouts in complaint but trails after you nonetheless, catching up to you slowly as he rubs his arms and shivers.

You're both merging in the group of people crowding the team as everyone lets out celebratory cheers, animatedly chatting amongst each other. Mingi kisses your cheek and dips from you to join his fellow players. 

You're left to battle the masses, squeezing and weaving between bodies as you try to make your way to Seonghwa quickly. When you reach him, he's surrounded by some of his peers, all of them laughing while exchanging hugs and pats on the back. 

When he finally turns and sees you, his eyes light up. He's quick to wiggle away from everyone and he's pulling you into a bone crushing hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you. 

The action surprises you but it's not unwelcome as you laugh and clutch onto him tightly, a squeal coming from you.

"Hwa!"

"Did you see me, baby? I can't believe we won!" You smile endearingly, though you can't help but chuckle at his comment. Of course they won. After all, they were one of the top soccer teams in the province.

He plants a single big wet kiss on your lips before he's setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. An adoring look crosses your face as he beams proudly. The familiarity of his hug was something you missed dearly, and you don’t even mind that he’s covered in dirt and grass stains. 

Perhaps corny on your end, but you didn’t want your hug with him to end. You don't remember the last time he held you so joyfully. You knew it was probably from the high of winning the game, but you can pretend just for a little while longer that it was because he missed you. 

"You did amazing, Hwa!" The stars in his eyes expand, twinkling with pride as you compliment him, his smile stretching impossible wide. Your heart stutters at the sight, making you want to melt entirely within his arms. 

You want to shower him with more praise but all too suddenly, he's being pulled away from you. You recognize his reluctance as he apologetically tips his head and mouths 'sorry' when the crowd pulls him away, tossing him up in their arms as they're chanting his name. 

"Party at Wooyoung's!"

"Drinks on Seonghwa!" 

They march further and further away from you, filing into the locker rooms as you watch from afar, standing pathetically by yourself on the field. The crowd has since dissipated and you're all too aware that you're alone now. 

The forgotten blanket is still draped around you, and you clutch it tighter around your frame as the breeze sends a shiver down your spine. 

"You should dump him, you know." 

You jump in shock and spin on your heel, head whipping in the direction of the new voice. You're met with the very same goalie you had been checking out earlier, a sense of guilt creeping over your back. How long was he standing behind you? 

"What?" You manage to say back to him, unsure of how to approach his suggestion. 

"I said you should dump him." 

Yunho stands tall and defiantly before you, arms folded over his chest as he cocks an eyebrow in amusement. You give him a once over before you frown, trying to look anywhere but at him. 

"You don't know anything." 

He doesn't miss your lingering look and the corner of his lips quirk up knowingly as he steps toward you. 

You stumble back, heart catching in your throat when you look up to meet his stare, his eyes swimming dangerously with an unknown emotion.

"I know enough, princess. A good girl like yourself wouldn't be eye fucking me if your boyfriend was taking care of you well enough," he pauses and leans past you, whispering hotly against the shell of your ear, " — or if he was fucking you properly." 

A tremble of desire ripples down your spine but you move back, flabbergasted by his statement. You're no sooner tripping over your own feet and you topple backwards, landing on your ass.

Yunho barks out in laughter, not bothering to offer you any help. The man is hunched over now, chuckling loudly as he stares at your frustrated form below him. He clutches his stomach and figuratively wipes his eye as if he'd just witnessed the funniest thing of his life.

"Fuck you," you spit back to him. 

“Just say when and I’m all yours.” 

You’re shocked by his admission, not daring to meet his eyes as your hand begins swiping the blades of grass under you. Though you're annoyed, you can't ignore the bubble of arousal that has spread through your belly. Yunho wants to fuck you. You rewind his words over and over again in your head, only snapping into focus when you hear Seonghwa’s voice calling out to you from a distance.

"Babe?" From several meters away, you see your boyfriend approaching closer in a light jog. He has since changed out of his uniform, and is now sporting a long sleeve with some form fitting jeans. 

"Are you ok? I didn't know you were friends with Yunho!" Seonghwa reaches you both shortly, oblivious to the situation before him, smiling from ear to ear as he begins to help you up. 

"I’m ok. I just tripped, that's all..." You offer an uncertain smile, standing up and wiping the debris from your pants. 

"Hey, man! I was just asking her if she's coming to the party." Yunho throws his arm over Seonghwa, giving him a side hug before he's veering off toward the locker rooms.

"Gonna go shower. See ya both there!"

You're left with Seonghwa as the goalie's form disappears into the building. You shouldn't be upset now that you have some alone time with your boyfriend, but the encounter leaves you unsettled and questioning yourself. 

You swallow nervously and lace your fingers with the man before you, gently tugging him along toward the parking lot.

"Let's go get ready, yeah?" He nods his head and lets you lead the way, happily swinging your hands.

"I missed you, babe. I can't wait for the party." 

The guilt continues to fester at the back of your mind but you force it away, mustering up a half hearted smile. 

"I missed you too."

The Jung family was known for being wealthy, so securing their beloved son a lavish 3 story building within your college town was no hard feat. Given Wooyoung's spacious living situation he also housed some of his fellow players. One being his closest buddy, Choi San, two being your best friend, Song Mingi and the third roomie was none other than the infamous goalie himself. 

To say you're familiar with the house is an understatement, having stayed over on many occasions whether it be for a soccer function, party or to hang out with Mingi. The building itself is huge, reminiscent of someone's dream home but it was a little closer to a frat house than anything given the current occupants. 

By the time you reach Wooyoung's, the sun is already setting beneath the skyline. In typical party fashion, there are people pouring in and out of the door and you see a few stragglers who are already wasted, strewn about the front yard. 

The music is at full blast, some unfamiliar hip hop beats pumping from the speakers. The noise grows louder as you both near the entrance, the volume of chatter mixing in with the tempo of the current song. 

When you and Seonghwa step through the bustling entryway of the Jung manor, a chorus of drunken cheers are heard amidst the packs of various friend groups. 

"Yo! There's the man of the hour!" Wooyoung is ever the host as he’s quick to greet you two, shoving a can of beer into Seonghwa's hand while he slings an arm around his shoulder.

"M'lady," he playfully curtsies to you, despite the awkward entanglement of he and Seonghwa's limbs, "help yourself to some drinks. The boys want to take some celebratory shots to get things rolling!"

"Thanks, Woo!" You grin back at him and follow along as you're led toward the kitchen. Bottles of hard liquor amass the counter along with littered and forgotten red solo cups, some full and others empty.

The crowd is more dense in this room, all the soccer players packed around the island as they're downing shot after shot. Seonghwa is quick to join them, abandoning your company when he’s encouraged by their enthusiastic hooting. 

The sight brings a smile to your face but your expression morphs into something unpleasant when he hooks his elbow with Yunho, both of them throwing down their beverages in unison. 

You don't miss how Yunho's adam's apple bobs as he tips his glass back or how a dribble of tequila trails down his chin from his lips. When his eyes meet yours, they're narrowed playfully. There's a knowing glint behind his gaze that has you promptly turning on your heel. 

With your back to the crowd, you're squeezing past the lot as you direct yourself elsewhere. You spare Mingi a pat in passing and maneuver toward the opposite side of the kitchen where you reach for a solo cup, opting to fill it from the massive dispenser of jungle juice in the corner. You make a mental note to come back for shots later once it's less crowded.

As you're filling your drink a hand lands on your shoulder, giving you a soft squeeze that makes you jolt in surprise. The liquid sloshes in your cup, narrowly missing your clothes. You turn to the perpetrator and immediately breathe a sigh of relief when you recognize the voice.

"Careful with that. It'll fuck you up good." 

"Hongjoong! You scared the hell out of me!" 

The man in question laughs and bumps his shoulder to yours. He's nursing his own drink which he holds up to you, nodding his head. Hongjoong and you go way back, both having an unspoken mutual respect for each other.

You've known him as long as you've known Seonghwa, but the both of them have been friends for many years prior so you have nothing on that. Even though he's not a part of the main roster, Hongjoong is the manager for the team, which makes him just as important. 

The two of you met through Mingi and you both bonded instantly, enjoying each other's presence. You aren't necessarily close, but you're far from anything unfriendly. You’re also dating his best bud, so it was hard to avoid him if things were any different. 

"Cheers!" 

"Bottoms up, Joong." 

You clink your plastic cup to his and you're both gulping down the booze in one go, a grimace overtaking your features as the concoction of alcohol and juice washes over you. Whatever that was, it was nasty. 

“Dude, who made this? Isn’t jungle juice supposed to NOT taste like alcohol?”

“Probably some dumb ass.”

And that's how the rest of the night proceeds. In between failing to get Seonghwa's attention and socializing with various people (mostly Hongjoong), you're left to your own vices for nearly an hour. Like the others though, Hongjoong soon finds better company amongst his peers. 

It hasn’t been long since your arrival yet you're feeling the effects of the alcohol already. Seonghwa has since been whisked away by his other friends, easily forgetting you in the midst of celebrations. It's nothing new, but the substance does help dull the pain. 

To say you’re upset is an understatement. Does Seonghwa just not care? You even did up your makeup a little cuter today. Forgoing your usual attire, you wear a black strappy and skimpy little number tonight. You weren't one to usually show off your assets but it didn't matter since your efforts went unnoticed, leaving you high and dry. 

Submitting defeat, you make up your mind and decide you would have fun regardless of your relationship. Fuck Seonghwa. You’re at a party, so you might as follow its intended purpose. 

You've already made your rounds within the house several times, chatting amongst your friends only briefly before you wind back up in the kitchen. Although you're not quite drunk yet, you're definitely getting there as you begin to wobble over to the counter of spirits.

You're finishing your second helping of jungle juice once you've arrived at the island. A random liquor bottle is plucked from the selection and with the emptied solo cup in hand, you're quick to pour some expensive looking vodka, filling it halfway before you knock it back hastily. No chaser necessary. The sting is immediate, burning down your throat as you try not to gag down the rest.

Drinking the substance was akin to what you imagine rubbing alcohol tastes like. Disgusting, but it does the job. The cup is tossed aside and you wipe your mouth with your hand before you trudge toward the open doors of the backyard, the last area you've yet to explore for the night. 

The moon now rises within the darkened skies, illuminating the expanse of the yard. From here, the music is a bit more muted and the chatter is quieter. Centered in the middle of the space was a pool, where some people were lounging about. Not a good spot for a tipsy girl like yourself. 

Further to the side, the pungent smell of marijuana wafts from the corner where a large fire pit roars alive. Some familiar faces surround the area and from afar you can see they’re passing around a joint. You're quick to abandon your post by the doors, stumbling toward the lull of the flames. 

"Miiiingi," you call out as you approach closer, slinging your arms around the said man.

Mingi turns slightly at the mention of his name and catches you just in time as you throw yourself into him, a loopy smile on your lips. 

"Damn… You look,” he whistles lowly, “how many drinks have you had?" 

"How do I look? And like... only a few!" 

You drop your hold from him and step away to do a little drunk twirl, stumbling slightly. He raises his eyebrows in amusement but still claps his hands nonetheless.

"You look good enough to eat, babe. And I hope ‘a few’ doesn’t include the pitcher of that god awful jungle juice. I think Wooyoung threw anything and everything in there." 

"Maaaaybe two of those and a shot!" A shot being that half cup of vodka earlier, which was basically two shots if you think about it. Mingi didn’t need to know that though.

He just shrugs his shoulders and smiles lightly. He wasn't one to stop you if you wanted to let loose. You grin and squeeze his hand once, thankful he wasn’t too concerned over your lack of sobriety. As you’re stepping around him and circling the fire pit, you greet the others surrounding you, not wishing to be rude.

To Mingi's left, your friends Yeosang, San and Jongho are in a deep debate as the lingering smoke from the weed and burning wood mixes within the air. They all wave at you and quickly return to their conversation. You think you hear something along the lines of whether or not mint chocolate chip is the superior ice cream flavor, but you don't really know. 

To the opposite side of Mingi, Yunho nods his head to you as he reclines in a woven lawn chair with his legs spread apart. Even in your current state you don’t miss the way his eyes are greedily raking over your exposed form, taking in every inch of skin you’re showing. His actions have you shifting nervously on the balls of your feet and you don’t know how to approach him. 

Regardless of the fact that you are ready or not, you have to face him now. Against your better judgment, you think you should enjoy his attention while you can and at this point, you were getting too drunk to care.

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol in your system or your disarray of emotions, but you can hardly ignore how the denim of his jeans hug his muscular thighs or how his white t-shirt rides up a little when he leans back, showing you just a sliver of his skin.

You’re both readily checking each other out and it makes you feel hot with shame. His eyes are hazy from the effects of the cannabis and he's taking a long drag before holding it up in your direction. 

"Hey, princess. You want a hit?" A billow of smoke rolls over his lips as he speaks, voice low and gravelly from the dryness in his throat. You swear you’ve never seen anything sexier than the sight of him before you. 

"Don't call me that," you murmur as you snatch the joint from his hand and inhale from it, sucking in a bit too sharply. The smoke that fills your lungs all too soon comes out in sputters and it has you coughing out several times. 

The sound of Yunho's hearty and familiar laughter joined with Mingi's fills your ears, making your face burn with embarrassment. If you could dig a hole right now and hide in it, you would. You roll your eyes and pass the end of the blunt to Mingi while trying to recompose yourself. 

"What brings you out here, pretty girl?" Yunho questions you, but you both know why. Mingi knows too, yet he chooses to ignore the unspoken tension between you two as he's too preoccupied finishing off the last of the joint.

"You know, the usual," you slur a bit as you speak, noting how the alcohol seems to pump more heavily through your veins, " — Hwa is too busy to pay attention to me so I may as well get as crossed as I can tonight." 

"I told you that you should just break up with him." Mingi crushes the remainder of the joint under his shoe as he speaks, eyeing you warily. 

"Yeah! You're clearly not having fun worrying about him!" Jongho suddenly butts into the conversation, his statement being followed by several nods and a chorus of verbal agreements from the rest of the boys.

"I wasn't aware that my relationship was everyone and their mother's business." You huff in response.

“Just because Hwa is our friend doesn’t mean we don’t know he’s a shitty boyfriend to you,” Yeosang pitches in. 

“He’s not a bad guy. I just don’t know if he deserves that… And you guys make it sound like dumping him is the easiest thing in the world.” 

You groan loudly at their insistent suggestions. All you've heard tonight is people telling you to break it off with him, but he’s still the man you fell in love with. You wish things weren’t so complicated. 

“Him being a good guy is different from him being a good boyfriend. If you’re not happy, you shouldn’t stay with him,” San adds with a firm nod.

"Well whatever you do, they’re still right,” you're about to complain again but Yunho is quick to grab your hand, “Like Jongho said, you're not having fun, so let's go dance."

He’s standing up abruptly as he tugs on your hand, leading you back inside and toward the lively mass of dancing bodies within the house. The boys cheer in unison and follow suit, filing into the packed living room.

Within the dim space the lights are set down low and in the area where the speakers occupy there’s a set of disco lights atop, flickering from corner to corner, the gradient of multiple hues bobbing every which way.  

Your group is weaving through the crowd of bodies until you’re all within the center of the dancing where you’re being sandwiched between both Mingi and Yunho. The room is unbearably hot, yet you’re too intoxicated to care as you lose yourself to the sultry song that plays through the house. 

In front of you Mingi is clutching onto your shoulders as he easily moves himself to the beat of the music, swaying from side to side. From behind Yunho is holding your waist and you feel him bumping against your backside as he dances. You almost feel overwhelmed between the two men, but your arms loop around Mingi’s torso and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to rock against their bodies. 

The boys brought you inside to have fun and you don’t want to waste the rest of the night worrying about your relationship. You’re between two ridiculously handsome men, so you might as well indulge a little. 

Yunho's breath is hot against your neck as you drop your head back on his shoulder, eyes fluttering open to meet his half lidded stare. Beneath his stare is the look of something unidentifiable again, a dangerous and lustful glint. The movements never stop even as his grip tightens around you, his large hands over your hips. 

"You look so fucking sexy tonight," Yunho's whisper is almost lost to the volume of the music but you hear him clearly as he mutters into your ear. You bite your lip at his compliment and feel your body heating up. 

"Want to rip this tiny dress off your body." He continues his onslaught of suggestive words, not faltering even as you press yourself instinctively to his crotch. 

You're not surprised that he's hard against your ass but you are shocked by the sheer feeling of his size outlined beneath the fabric of his denim. Even with the jeans covering him, you can tell that the rumors are definitely true. 

The thought of his dick alone has something stirring within your loins and you can't help but to grind yourself harder against his growing erection as a whine threatens to bubble up from your throat. 

"You like that, princess?" His hold slides down from your waist and he toys with the hem of your dress, fingers dancing along the material teasingly. 

His blatant flirting has you feeling nervous but you can't deny how turned on you are at the way he touches and gropes at you within the public eye. 

Mingi is either too high to care or completely unaware of the situation as his body bumps against yours. His elbows slack on your shoulders but you can tell he's enjoying himself from the dopey grin he has as he's watching the scene unfold before him. So much for heeding his warning about Yunho. He didn't even seem to care anymore. 

If not for your friend dancing alongside you, the sight of you rubbing yourself against Yunho would definitely look suspicious. At this point, you're not sure if being caught in the act bothers you though. You're much too faded and you're reveling in the feeling of both their hands all over you. Any guilt that still threatens to ruin your night is now easily disregarded.

The actions of your bodies gyrating against each other has made your dress ride up, revealing more of your already exposed thighs. With the way your lacy black underwear is just barely beginning to peek out beneath your skimpy dress, it takes Yunho everything in his willpower not to spread your legs right there and fuck you with his fingers. 

You don't notice your indecency, but Yunho certainly does. Luckily he and Mingi are there to block the view from any prying eyes. He wouldn't want to share such a sinful sight with anyone else anyway. 

"Do you want to take this upstairs?" 

You should say no, but you find yourself nodding instead and allowing him to pull you backwards. 

Mingi doesn’t seem to mind the absence of your body and easily bids you both farewell as he drunkenly looks for a new dance partner once you're both stumbling through the mass of moving bodies. 

With his larger hand clasped over yours, Yunho is leading you through the string of scattered party goers until you're both practically tripping up the stairs. 

You know you should acknowledge the feeling of shame that looms over you, but there's a thrum of excitement filling your senses. The thrill of entertaining such a heinous act drives you further into some sick type of high. 

As you and Yunho are both hurrying to his room, you fail to see your boyfriend hovering close by the bottom of the stairwell. The drink he has is downed in one go before he's crushing the cup in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder. There is a surge of alcohol and rage pumping through his blood as he begins to ascend the steps after you.

When you reach Yunho’s room, he leads you inside and kicks the door shut behind him. Although the room is pitch black it doesn’t stop how he clutches onto your waist and pushes you into the door as he begins to kiss you heavily.

There is no hesitance to claim your lips while his large hands are eager to explore the expanse of your scantily clad body. His touch is everywhere at once and you're breathless as he attacks your lips with fervor, drinking in your kisses whilst groaning breathlessly into your mouth. 

It shouldn't feel so good to have him touching you, but each brush of his fingers feels electrifying on your skin, driving you more mad with each passing second. 

All too soon he's pulling away from your mouth and backing up until you hear the click of him switching on the lamp nearby. A dull light floods the space, the interior of his room filling your vision. You’re momentarily distracted and briefly take a minute to examine the minute details of his living arrangements. 

By the corner rests a black recliner and a shelf lined with family photos and awards from the numerous sports he’s played. Miscellaneous equipment and video games are scattered about the room amongst his various clothes. Everything looked pretty standard for a college guy like himself.

When he sees you're preoccupied taking in the sight of your surroundings, he uses the chance to shed his clothes, leaving only his boxer briefs. Once done, he's quick to lay back on his mattress, which rests at the center of his room and he sits up against the pillows while motioning for you to come closer. 

You don't move at first, eyes zeroing in on the man who lays before you. Despite the lamp’s dull luminance you can still make out the toned muscles that sculpt his lean figure. Beneath his abs, a faint trial of his hair disappears beneath the band of his undergarments. The shape of his erection straining against the fabric of his underwear has you squirming in place. 

“Princess, my eyes up here.” Immediately your head snaps up to meet his smug look, grin tugging at his lips. Even with the short garb on your body, you feel suddenly overdressed when you ogle his bare form. 

He’s staring at you beneath his heavy lids, lust evident within his eyes. The effects of the marijuana still clouds his mind but he's never felt better. 

“Strip for me.” The command rings in your ears, a low timber in his voice as his hand creeps over his present bulge. He’s no sooner palming himself, stroking himself through his underwear. 

The sight has your mouth going dry, arousal encouraging your actions when you begin to sway your hips before him. You don't know if it's the intoxication or just the raw desire to fuck him that fuels your next actions. The sight of him spread out before you and stroking his cock certainly contributes to your newfound bravado. 

You’re clumsily dancing and shimmying the dress off, your body rolling as the straps slide off your shoulders and droop down to reveal your bare breasts. When the fabric drops past your waist and to the floor, you clumsily kick the article aside and move toward the edge of the bed.

The lacy black underwear that previously taunted Yunho is now on full display as you begin to make your way onto the bed, both knees sinking into the mattress as you crawl toward him on all fours. He’s groaning as he watches your tantalizing prowl, squeezing himself hard through his delicates. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, your figure approaching closer until you hover before him, straddling his thighs. 

Your mouths reconnect when you settle over him, letting your clothed mound rest on his lap before you begin to drag yourself against his length. The friction between your loins draws another noise from him as he's eagerly returning your kiss, tongue and teeth clashing with hunger. 

His hands find purchase on your waist, sliding up your body and cupping your breasts as he begins to roll himself under you. As he carefully tweaks your nipples you whine into his mouth, each kiss growing more messy, your lips swollen as he devours you.

He doesn’t know if he can handle another second of being trapped beneath you as he rubs against you through the flimsy garments separating you. You feel so good and he's not even inside you yet. 

The kiss is broken when he sinks further into his pillows, arching forward impatiently in a struggle to remove his underwear. Not wanting to laugh at his attempts, you lift yourself from him and help slide the offending article down his legs. 

His erection springs free from its confines and your jaw goes slack when you finally take in the size of his cock. Seeing it under his boxers was one thing but this… The rumors definitely didn’t do him justice. Watching him twitch against his stomach with his precum pooling at the tip of his length makes you think you’ve never wanted to taste something as much as his dick. 

When you look up to Yunho, he has his ever present shit eating grin. He knows you’re impressed and he revels in the attention, enjoying how your expression morphs from shock to pure desire. 

Once you've recollected yourself he grasps the sides of your panties and tugs them impatiently. The position has you struggling to remove the lingerie but he opts to rip the fabric instead, tearing down the sides and tossing the remnants elsewhere as you’re left to gape at his hastiness.

“Those were my favori-” You struggle to verbalize your next words as a gasp escapes you when you suddenly feel his hand cupping your exposed sex. 

“I was going to ruin them one way or another,” he says with a roll of his eyes as his fingers delicately run along the arousal that has collected between your folds. He experimentally rubs his thumb against your clit, watching as your body trembles from his featherweight touch. 

“You’re already this wet for me? Naughty girl.” 

“Shut up,” you murmur as you slap his hand away and situate yourself back on his lap, letting him feel your wetness against the length of his erection. 

“Sorry, princess.” He throws his arms up in mock surrender but they're no sooner on your thighs as you both continue to hump against each other, the feeling of skin to skin unbearable as he bites back a moan.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” The tip of his cock brushes past your clit, easily sliding back and forth along your opening once you're rocking yourself faster atop him.

“You seem to like it,” he says with a knowing tone and he squeezes both your thighs, though he sounds just as breathless as he looks beneath you. His eyes are fluttering with each movement, chest rising as he tries to maintain his last ounce of self control. 

He's been patient, allowing you to grind yourself on him, but he wants nothing more than to grab your hips and impale you on his cock, stretching you out so good that you can't think. 

You're both gasping quietly against each other and it's only until you hear the door open that you're both scrambling for the sheets to cover yourselves.

“So, this is where you two went.” Seonghwa’s firm voice fills your ears, making your entire body freeze up as you come to a halt. 

You've never heard him more angry and you're nervous to face him but you find yourself slowly twisting your head over your shoulder as you're met with his enraged glare.

Yunho stiffens beneath you and opens his mouth to speak but the other man holds up his palm to signal his silence. Your boyfriend closes the door behind him, not uttering a word as he takes a seat on the recliner that's situated in the corner. 

The tension is thick but you can’t help the bewilderment showing on your expression as you watch him settle into the leather, spreading his legs wide while he dips his hand into his pants.

“Don’t stop on my account. Carry on.” There is a dangerous hint behind his tone and you can feel his anger radiating off him in waves but the thought of him watching as Yunho fucks you makes you even more turned on.

You’re unsure of what's going on anymore at this point, but even in your confusion you know you don't want to disobey Seonghwa. The guilt that you had been ignoring all night hits you tenfold, sitting present in your consciousness. Despite this, your arousal is obvious as your pussy grows messier, drooling on the cock beneath you. It's apparent to him as he twitches against your sex and he catches on quickly, though initially he seems just as shocked as you by Seonghwa’s admission. 

It doesn't take a second longer for Yunho to recognize the look behind Seonghwa’s eyes and he has a twisted smirk pulling at his lips in realization. Before you can protest, he suddenly takes ahold of your hips and lifts you with ease before he's sliding you down the entirety of his length. Your walls drag past his cock, swallowing him whole as he fills you to the hilt.

The noise of surprise that escapes you rings high when you feel him stretching you apart. He’s much bigger than Seonghwa and you don't think you've ever felt so full in your life. If you weren't already so wet, you knew the stretch would sting much more than it did. You're so clouded with pleasure that the pain is barely present. 

“You like watching your girl get fucked by someone else, Hwa?” He taunts your boyfriend, snide in his tone as he ruts himself up into you. You whine loudly. 

The man in question only responds with a grunt, his eyes trained on the view of your pussy swallowing his huge cock. Seonghwa squeezes himself harder and begins to pump into his hand, gritting his teeth. 

“You're both so fucking nasty. You love this, don’t you?” Even as Yunho sneers, he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. 

“Look how well she takes me, Hwa. You like seeing her little cunt stretched out by another man’s dick?” This time Seonghwa moans in response. His jeans have been kicked aside and he's left in his shirt, jerking himself in his palm as he watches you both through his hazy eyes.

With your head overlooking your shoulder, you still don't entirely know what's happening, but the sight of your boyfriend fucking his hand makes you overwhelmed with the need to press on. Knowing you're both getting off as he watches you get plowed has your stomach churning with some sick sense of pleasure.  

Suddenly you feel Yunho’s hand cupping your chin, forcing your eyes away from Seonghwa. As you both stare at each other, you’re readily bouncing yourself on his lap, sinking deeper onto his cock with your every movement. You’re greedy to have him inside you, enjoying how each thrust has him filling your pussy so well. 

There’s a sound of clattering from the other side of the room and you want to turn your head, but the hand gripping your chin is firm. Seeing his eyes flicker behind you makes your curiosity grow, but when you feel a hot breath against the back of your neck you now know that Seonghwa has joined you on the bed. 

His presence has the man beneath you waning his pace, his hips working in a slow and sensual grind. As he hovers behind you his nose runs along your nape where his lips latch down on your skin. His teeth drag against your shoulder and you're whining quietly when he bites down particularly hard.

“Did you miss me so bad that you had to cheat me on with my own teammate?” Seonghwa is speaking against your skin, but he doesn't stop nipping at you, sucking harshly until you begin to bruise beneath his lips. You don't know how to respond, your body trembling as he continues to press at you. 

“You think you can just fuck Yunho and get away with it?” Shaking your head, you let out a meek ‘no’ as his fingers tangle within your hair.

“Get up.” Seonghwa has never spoken to you with a tone like this before. It fills you with apprehension but your body is still thrumming with arousal and you're quick to follow his instructions, whimpering when you slide off of Yunho’s lap. 

Yunho wishes to pull you back onto him but he hesitates, deciding he wants to watch how the scene unfolds. Even then, his cock continues to throbs as he takes note of how an intensity is overtaking the normally sweet and kind Seonghwa. 

Your boyfriend leads you by your hair, ignoring you as you whimper out in a pained protest. You’re forced onto your hands and knees, your head hovering between the apex of his legs as he presses his hard cock against your mouth.

“You're going to let me use your mouth like the disgusting whore that you are, got it?” You feel yourself clenching at his words, nodding as your tongue darts out to taste the head to his dick. It's been so long since you've had him, you're desperate for his cock. He scoffs at your eagerness.

Seonghwa grasps his length, smearing his precum against your mouth as he uses his free hand to motion the other man forward. Yunho is no sooner scrambling toward you both, pupils blown wide with anticipation as he awaits further instruction. 

“Go ahead.” 

His words are all that Yunho needs to hear. Holding your hips once again he grabs you from behind and he begins to sheath his cock back within the slick warmth of your hole, relishing in how tightly your walls surround him. You both moan loudly. At the same time Seonghwa slides himself past your lips, the hand within your locks tightening their hold when he eases himself into your throat. 

Your eyes flit up to watch him as his lips are pulled back in a displeased scowl. You've never seen him so upset and it makes you remorseful knowing you're the cause of his distress but at the same time he’s never looked so sexy glaring down at you. 

He catches your stare but continues to frown even as his cock twitches in your mouth. His fingers fist at your tresses, guiding you further down his shaft until your nose is flush to his pelvic bone. 

You're breathing heavily through your nostrils as you continue to look at each other, your eyes watering with tears. He doesn't move, but instead allows Yunho to bury into you. The snap of his hips against your backside causes your body to jerk forward, forcing Seonghwa’s tip to hit the back of your throat. He’s groaning when you gag against him, the action clearly catching you in surprise. 

“Such a needy slut. Just one dick wasn't enough for you, huh?” You whine against him, drooling over his length as Yunho sets the tempo for how fast your head is bobbing along his cock. He’s pounding into you harder, enjoying the sight of you struggling to suck the other off while he's working open your tight pussy. 

“You should lighten up, Hwa,” he says between thrusts as he reaches out with one arm to grab the older man.

“Are you serious? What the hell does that mean?” Seonghwa’s fingers slacken as he peers over at the goalie, his dick pulsing in your mouth while he’s watching you get fucked.

You're thankful for the moment of reprise but your eyes go wide as you watch Yunho hover above you, grabbing Seonghwa by his hair and pulling him in for a kiss. 

You gurgle on Seonghwa’s cock at the sight, your pussy clenching down tightly as the two begin to make out before you. To say your boyfriend is shocked is an understatement, but he’s quick to indulge in the kiss, clearly as aroused as you are.

Yunho has some type of unexplainable charm to him. Whatever he's doing, it clearly affects Seonghwa just as much as it does you. 

Their mouths are locked together, wet kisses amidst their tongues intertwining as you feel Yunho begin to rock his hips again. The movement has all three of you moaning and encourages you to begin sucking harder on the cock inside your mouth. 

There is saliva coating your lips as you're bobbing your head down the length of Seonghwa’s erection, more drool dripping down your chin while you're sloppily getting your face fucked. 

When Yunho breaks the kiss there is a line of spit stretching between them as they're both panting heavily, trying to regain their breaths. The taller of the two ushers the hand away from your locks, taking a hold of your hair before he’s tugging your head back as he withdraws slowly, pulling himself completely out of you. 

Seonghwa’s dick pops out from your mouth when you’re yanked back and he’s left staring at your desperate form below him, your body wiggling with need at the loss of Yunho. 

“Take this as a lesson, Hwa. You’re in a win-win situation, no?” Even as Yunho says this, the other’s expression twists between a flurry of emotions. The confusion is written all over his face, but something seems to click in his brain as he watches Yunho slam into your squelching hole with a single powerful motion. 

Seonghwa feels humiliated as he watches his lover enjoy another man’s cock so readily yet his own arousal throbs with need when Yunho continues to coax him. He can’t help the hand that slips between his thighs, palming his aching length again as the goalie continues to ravage your body before him. 

When Yunho’s fingers tangle within your tresses he cannot deny how much he’s enjoying the way your back arches as he begins to pound himself into you relentlessly, his pace steady and calculated. Despite the sting of your scalp and how the position aches on your back, your cries are immediately filling the room, loud and pitchy. 

“You see, Seonghwa. This,” he grunts and thrusts heavily as he’s plowing into your cunt, enjoying how you clench around him so greedily, “— is how you should be fucking her.” 

Your boyfriend is fisting his cock harder, biting his lower lip as he stares down at you. You’re barely meeting his gaze, tears lining your eyes as you whimper and moan. Each movement of the man behind you has you lurching forward, your torso threatening to sink forward if not for the constraint on your hair. 

Looking to Seonghwa seems impossible as your eyes roll back into your head, so consumed with pleasure that you can hardly think properly. The guilt that previously haunted you is already dissipating with every sinful plunge of Yunho’s hips. 

“Does Seonghwa fuck you like this, princess?” He jerks at your hair again, a guttural noise spilling from him when he feels how you constrict around his girth. 

“Answer me, naughty girl. Does his cock feel as good as mine?” He stills his movements and his eyes are lighting with amusement as he watches you twist in place, writhing around for his cock. 

“No, damn it! Fuck me, p-please, Yunho!” You practically shout, overcome with need as you’re whining and clutching at the bedsheets, rutting back against his pelvis. He’s ecstatic to hear your begging and he resumes his pace, watching as you immediately fall into a state of euphoria and begin garbling a string of unintelligible noises. 

“Such a cock hungry girl. Don’t you enjoy seeing her like this?” 

“Y…Yeah,” The older of the two manages to sputter out his reply between his breathy groans, his eyes glazing over. He’s clutching the entirety of his dick, tip leaking at the display of your ruined and blissful state before him. 

“How about I give you a taste?” 

“Huh?” Seonghwa’s brain short circuits at the suggestion and he glimpses up to meet Yunho’s darkening stare. The look the taller man gives him has him swallowing thickly, his eyes flickering down to watch as he slides his cock out of your fluttering hole. 

“A taste,” the goalie repeats as he holds his length up, the dim lighting reflecting the trail of your juices that glisten along his shaft. Seonghwa hesitates at first but finds himself nodding. 

You want to complain when Yunho withdraws from you again, but you have no time to as he's hoisting you up right into a kneeling position. The fogginess of the pleasure begins to clear from your mind though you can still feel yourself clenching around nothing as the heat within you simmers to a pulse between your legs.

Like you, Seonghwa is eagerly anticipating Yunho's next actions, unsure of what to expect. He’s thrilled at the prospect of having his turn with the larger man, his body alight in flames. The anger has seemingly diminished from him, only a hot wave of lust coursing through his veins.

The effects of the alcohol is still present in his body, but he knows he's not delirious when he realizes just how delighted he seems at the idea of tasting Yunho’s big cock. He doesn't know if he can blame you anymore when he seems just as excited to submit to the other.

Yunho is maneuvering off the mattress, walking around to the front until he's facing you both. He motions for you to scoot back and you do so obediently, eyes wide as you await for what's to come. 

“Turn around, Seonghwa.” As swift as he can, he practically gets tangled in the bed sheets when he turns his back to the goalie. The action has him locking eyes with you, face burning up when he suddenly begins to feel shy about the notion of you witnessing his submissiveness. 

“Good boy. Now lay back for me.” Seonghwa shivers at the compliment, his cock twitching against his thigh as he falls back on the bed, his head hanging off the edge. It's in this position that he realizes what's about to happen, though he’s not sure if he's prepared. It didn’t make him any less excited though.

“Think you can take my cock?” Simultaneously the blood rushes to his head and his erection at the question. He nods eagerly and wets his lips, mouth dropping open. He’s never done something like this before yet he’s too thrilled to pass up the opportunity. 

Yunho steps forward and presses the tip of his cock against the man’s lips, humming appreciatively as his tongue darts out to circle around the tip. 

“Your boyfriend is so hungry for my dick. Doesn’t he look cute? So needy.” You squeeze your thighs together and moan, the sight of the two men shooting straight to your core in a rush of wetness. 

“So pretty, Hwa…” You join in the praises as Yunho tenderly strokes along your lover's jaw, thumb grazing his lower lip before he’s sliding the first few inches of his length into Seonghwa's mouth. 

The praise shoots straight to Seonghwa’s loins, his dick pulsing with arousal as he’s taking the cock further down his throat. He’s compliant and docile as Yunho eases deeper, his eyes trained on the sight of his dick bulging from the other’s throat. 

“So good,” Yunho groans quietly and clasps his palm around your lover’s neck, wanting to feel his own outline stretching his throat.  Your mouth waters at the sight, not wanting to be left out while you’re watching Yunho slowly fuck himself into your boyfriend’s mouth. The scene before you has you dripping with desire. 

“C-Can I?” A single nod from Yunho is all you need and you’re no sooner clambering toward Seonghwa. In his position the man doesn’t notice your movement as he’s so focused trying to hollow his cheeks around Yunho’s cock. 

When he feels the familiar weight of your body settling on top of him, he starts to gag when you suddenly sink down on his erection, clearly catching him off guard. Yunho’s length slips from his mouth in the process and he’s sputtering quietly, trying to regain his bearings. 

You’re straddling your boyfriend and dropping onto his lap, his cock getting swallowed by the warmth of your hungry walls. Seeing how he jerks up beneath you it spurs you to bounce harder on his dick, letting him stuff you full.

“Missed your cock, Hwa…” He moans at your words and flutters his eyes, his jaw slack as he feels Yunho sliding himself back into his mouth. Seonghwa is so overcome with pleasure, his body blazing with lust that he can barely process what’s happening to him. He’s never felt bliss like this before — having his lover fuck herself onto him as his mouth is being used. 

Seonghwa looks so fucked out as he’s splayed across the mattress, his hair messy and his body sheen with his sweat while you’re both stimulating him. Yunho welcomes the display wholeheartedly, grinding himself into the other’s face, groaning as saliva and drool coats his cock. 

“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Hwa? You like when I fuck your mouth? You miss her pussy around your cock?” A garbled noise comes from the man, his throat tightening as his hips buck up in response. You feel his cock pulsing within you with each sinful word that leaves Yunho’s mouth. You know he’s close but you’ve yet to scratch the surface of your orgasm as you begin to rock yourself faster on his lap.

Quickening your pace you slip your fingers between your thighs and begin to rub your clit as you’re bouncing yourself on Seonghwa’s cock, each movement dragging him back within your sopping core. The man beneath you is trying to meet your thrusts, his hands falling over your thighs and gripping tight as he begins chasing his climax. 

Seonghwa’s eyes are screwed shut, breathing heavily through his nose and he’s letting out choked and muffled noises of pleasure. The need to cum is urgent and the feeling of your walls squeezing around his length has him realizing just how much he misses your tight little pussy.

He no longer focuses on sucking Yunho’s cock, simply allowing the other to abuse his throat as he fucks himself into your cunt. The drool that dribbles down his face is evidence of Yunho’s own pace growing sloppy, his release not far behind. 

“Come for me, baby,” you gasp to him, your back arching as you feel the heat of your orgasm stirring in your belly. You’re leaning forward against his torso, your chest flush to his as you’re lifting your ass and slamming it back onto his lap repeatedly. The sound of your skin slapping resonates throughout the room, pace increasing with a hurried need as you’re moaning into his neck. 

Feeling a similar air of impatience, Yunho holds Seonghwa by his hair and pulls himself back before he’s thrusting forward powerfully. The single motion of Yunho’s cock hitting the back of his throat causes the male to gurgle in discomfort but the goalie doesn’t pull away and he groans deeply, his cock spasming in the other’s mouth until he’s spurting his thick and milky seeds down Seonghwa’s throat. 

At the same time, your lover feels how your hole clenches and gushes around his cock. The needy pace you’re rocking against him has his length throbbing within you. Your actions combined with the lack of air in his lungs and the impact of Yunho’s thrusts into his mouth has his vision going spotty. His thighs shake and he’s seeing white as he orgasms hard and abruptly, his load filling your cunt with rope after rope of his hot release.

As he’s climaxing, he’s struggling to swallow the cum in his mouth, most of it spilling out past his lips and dripping down his nose and down his cheeks. When Yunho finally pulls away, Seonghwa is coughing and sputtering as he tries to regain his breath. The high of his orgasm is still clouding his mind even as he’s left a panting mess. 

On top of him, you’re still desperately trying to chase your own crescendo as you work yourself feverishly on his lap. Your fingers are slick and slippery with your arousal, gliding over your clit over and over as your cunt begins to convulse around Seonghwa’s cock.

You’re both still moaning and you’re riding out his orgasm, your own looming closely. Yunho is stroking Seonghwa’s cheek, moving away the strands of hair that stick to his sweat laden face. He has already recovered from his own climax and leans down to purr encouragingly into Seonghwa’s ear. 

“Such a good boy. Make our princess cum, hm?” 

Seonghwa keens at the other’s words and snaps his hips upward, driving himself into you with the last semblance of his strength. Your eyes are blearily focusing below you, taking in the view of your sweaty and fucked out boyfriend who’s so determined to make you come. 

Similarly the sight of Yunho hovering before your lover with his cum painted on Seonghwa’s face has you shaking with arousal, your thighs quivering when you feel yourself coming undone on your boyfriend’s cock. With a final slide of your digits past your swollen nub, you peak into your orgasm, his slowed thrusts combined with your sloppy movements sending you over the edge. 

Your hole squeezes around his cock and your juices mix in with his release as you finally climax. He can barely take the overstimulation as you clench around him a final time, your bodies coming to a still. Even after you’re past your high, he can still feel the after effects that are evident from your fluttering walls.

Once you’re finished, you tiredly slump against his torso, your skin sticking together from the perspiration that covers both your bodies. You’re too worn out to move, simply resting against your lover’s chest as you both breathe quietly. The fatigue overtakes you before you know it and your eyes are falling shut before you can stop yourself.

You don’t know how much time passes before you awake but someone has helped you clean up and you now lay cozily beneath Yunho’s blankets. Between a series of blinking and yawning, you groggily note that Seonghwa lays beside you peacefully, his eyes widening with joy as he’s watching you come to. 

“Hey, sleepy girl.” 

There’s a pregnant pause and you try to recollect your thoughts, trying to recall all that has happened up to this moment. Dread and realization falls over you immediately and you’re shooting up, blanket slipping off you. With your back straight, you hastily try to get up from the bed as a feeling of panic floods you.

You fucked up, you fucked up. You royally fucked up! 

“Woah, woah. Slow down, babe.” Your boyfriend coos softly and tries to work you down, pushing you back against the mattress and rubbing your shoulders in slow and soothing motions. 

“How are you being so calm? I literally just cheated on you!” 

Seonghwa scratches the back of his head nervously and looks away for a moment before he grasps both of your hands, squeezing them in his palms.

“Listen, uh… I gave it some thought and I think Yunho is right.” Your jaw drops.

“Huh?”

As if on cue Yunho steps into the bedroom, one towel around his waist while he’s drying his hair with another. He blinks in surprise at you both but smiles nonetheless, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

“Oh good! You’re awake, princess.” 

“What the hell is going on?” You look between the pair in confusion.

“Long story short, I know I’ve been a bad boyfriend but I think Yunho can help us work through some of that. I mean… if you’re down, of course.”

“I-I… I mean. What? Are you sure? Yeah, I-I think I am down.” They chuckle at your rambling.

Despite all that has happened, you never expected this type of proposal from Seonghwa. You honestly thought you would wake up to the shit show of him dumping you after you all sobered up. 

Yunho somehow worked his magic on the both of you and to your benefit as well. Even with your circumstances, you can’t deny the idea of it all excites you. You just knew that Mingi would have a field day after he found out.

“I’m still mad at you though. You could have just talked to me,” he tuts at you, shaking his head slightly. 

“I tried, Hwa! You were always too busy!”

“You’re right and I’m sorry. That was definitely my bad but it’s alright, babe. I’ll make sure we make it up to each other. Plus we have Yunho now.” A tremble of excitement runs down your spine at the mention of your new partner. 

Seonghwa has an adoring look in his eyes, though there is a dangerous intent behind his smile as he reaches up to gently stroke your cheek.

“I know you won’t betray me again though. We’ll make sure of it.”

His words have you nervous and aroused, rubbing your thighs together as you feel a heat pooling in your lower belly.

Beside you Yunho sports his own wolfish grin when he meets your stare, placing his hand over your thigh and rubbing circles close to your sex.  “Hwa is kind of scary when he’s mad, huh? Don’t worry though, princess. When he’s begging for my cock, you can help me make sure he’s the one being a good boy.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you. 

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day. 

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that. 

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.) 

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?” 

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to. 

God, that man was a dick. 

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle. 

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive. 

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van. 

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up. 

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him. 

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep? 

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers. 

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads. 

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable. 

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars. 

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath. 

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him? 

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck. 

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him. 

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars. 

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good. 

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were. 

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake. 

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.” 

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth. 

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.” 

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors. 

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.” 

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you. 

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually. 

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns. 

Nope. Not a chance. 

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned. 

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning. 

—

It doesn’t. 

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day. 

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together. 

God, he sort of hated you. 

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice. 

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression. 

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it. 

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip. 

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them. 

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him. 

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John. 

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you. 

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.” 

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.” 

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset. 

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you. 

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?” 

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.” 

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin. 

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him. 

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable. 

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store. 

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural. 

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear. 

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk. 

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?” 

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?” 

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here. 

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.” 

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace. 

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.” 

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.” 

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.” 

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point. 

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.” 

Trainer? 

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with. 

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it. 

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say. 

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it. 

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back. 

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle. 

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?” 

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye. 

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice. 

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.” 

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole. 

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two. 

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could. 

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance. 

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.” 

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest? 

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed. 

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him. 

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?” 

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together. 

God, Eddie wishes he hated you. 

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

(tag list is open - if you'd like to be added, let me know!)

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it Anyway?

"Your 'Something's Wrong' voice."

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Hallo assorted ethereal and occult beings! I'm back to break down the POV of different scenes in detail! Starting with episode 1, and notably, the coffee shop scene when Crowley comes to meet Aziraphale for the first time in present day & the argument about Gabriel!

For reference & context, I recommend reading these posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

Lens Filters

Let's jump straight in!

We open Season one's present day with Crowley and Shax on the bench in the park, and in this scene the Black Diffusion FX filter is in Full Effect, and Crowley's sideburns are short.

The color is well saturated, but still cool-toned and bright, indicative of Crowley's POV.

Then when Aziraphale visits Maggie, listens to his music, and Gabriel arrives to Aziraphale, the Bronze Glimmer Glass filter is used.

The lighting is warm, golden, soft & hazy. Aziraphale's POV.

This brings us to the coffee shop scene.

I've stolen this photo from @embracing-the-ineffable 's post about The Appearing Honolulu Roast Sign which you should go check out if you haven't yet. But I'd like to draw your attention to something subtler here, the tone of the top two images and the bottom two. Pull up the episode and watch it if you'd like as well.

When Crowley walks into the coffee shop and sits down, the lighting is warm and hazy, because Aziraphale had been there alone so far. There is then a cut, Crowley's sideburns are short, the Honolulu Roast sign notably appears, but the scene is also noticeably (if you're looking for it) clearer and more vibrant, the warm haze is gone. I think we've switched from Aziraphale's POV to Crowley's POV here, and I think that's then confirmed by Crowley immediately beginning to give Aziraphale a bit of a a read about his "somethings wrong voice". We're broken out of Aziraphale's fairytale filter POV into Crowley's which is a bit colder and more realistic.

They then head back to the bookshop where Crowley discovers Jimbriel.

As soon as they're in the door of the bookshop the warm hazy Bronze Glimmer Glass filter is back and Crowley's sideburns are long. He removes his glasses, he's relaxed, and then he's jumpscared out of his boots by Jimbriel. Aziraphale's POV.

Crowley drags Aziraphale to the backroom and despite the warm yellow paint on the walls, the hazy warm tone is gone and I believe we've returned to the Black Diffusion FX filter, or Crowley's POV. Additionally, his sideburns are short again. Crowley is angry, terrified, and stressed now. He's not the kindest with his words and refuses to help Aziraphale.

When Crowley storms out, his walk back through the bookshop is marked by another POV change with longer sideburns, in the warm hazy tones of the BGG Aziraphale filter, and a notable shot of him retrieving his glasses beside the plate of eccles cakes. Two details that I believe would stand out in Aziraphale's imagination and mind. He would notice Crowley's eyes, and remember the eccles cakes.

Outside in the street, Crowley's sideburns are once again short, and the filter is cool toned again, indicating we've switched to BDFX or Crowley's POV again. He's angry, he's struck by lightning, and gets in the Bentley to angrily drive off.

NEXT

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

[selfsaven]

cw: degrading names (bitch, slut), fem reader, biting, unprotected sex, mean toji, reader asks him to stay and he outright says no toji fushiguro is one mean motherfucker. rude and short conversations with everyone, finding amusement in others' suffering, laughing at another's misery... he's nothing short of public enemy number one.

how he finds himself in your bed, of all people... is a miracle. hulking frame curled over you as he keeps a hand tightly wrapped around your throat, squeezing occasionally to remind you to keep your eyes on him. and you do, like a good bitch. your doe eyes stare up at him in half-lidded ecstasy as you moan from his cock stretching you out.

he's always kept himself out of his head by drowning himself in pleasure. gambling. lazing around. killing, when he feels like it or when he's making money off of it. and most notably, fucking. and when he spotted you... a good looking woman, wandering around, looking nervous about what seemed like a new place to you, he pounced.

a pretty thing, mid-20s. you worked as a barista in a coffee shop in your home area, but you've always been nervous about busy places and this was your first time coming to the area. he almost felt bad for you, seeing your anxiety.

so of course he showed you around-- touting himself as a local, being as friendly as possible, luring you in as close as possible...

less than a day's work led to this. easiest pussy he's gotten. double the payout for half the work. you were easy. after he helped you to where you needed to go, he offered to walk you home. then he let himself in. then he helped himself to the dinner you made... then helped himself to you.

his fat cock plugging your pussy, sensitive and filled to the brim with his cum. he was still hard, and he was willing to go a few more rounds. you were whining though, face flushed and covered in tears as you sniffled all pathetically and squirmed beneath him. he had your legs to your chest, one hand holding your knees together as his hips stayed closely pushed to yours. he wasn't even panting. his lips quirked into a smirk, that scar pulling with it.

"oh, what? y'want me to stop? sorry, doll. sluts don't get breaks." he chuckles, starting to rock his hips again. the movement caused cum to spill out of you and onto the light pink sheets of your bed as he pushed your legs up closer to your chest and moved onto his knees to get a better angle. fucking into your cunt a bit more shallowly, he managed to hit your g-spot over and over again, the head of his cock abusing that spot inside you that made you gush repeatedly.

so naive, yet you moaned like an experienced slut, lips parted and drool dribbling down your cheek and onto the pillow under your head. the sweat developing on your body caused you to feel clammy everywhere but between your legs, the searing heat causing you to lose whatever you were thinking of in that moment. your pretty lips curled into an o, and you moaned out his name.

"toji," you chirped, trying to convey your sensitivity and need for a break. but your pleas fell on deaf ears, the man fucking into your pussy like an animal further ignoring you. he split open your pussy with his dick again and again, fucking the remnants of his last load into you. part of him knew he was being careless, but it wasn't his fault you didn't have any condoms. of course, he asked you as he was sliding his fat fucking dick into your tight cunt, making the point moot either way.

your pussy squelched as you squeezed around him, sucking him in further as he groaned out something close to a growl. his other hand left your hip and he smacked your ass, a red hand-print already developing where he'd slapped you. he fucked into you harder then, leaning forward and biting down on the fat of your calf as the headboard of your bed hit the wall with his rhythmic thrusts and slams into your pussy.

you lost count of how many times you came after the fifth. toji however, must've fucked at least 5 loads into you before pulling out for good. he let go of your legs, getting up and cleaning himself up and getting dressed in his clothes from before. your legs flopped onto the mattress and you curled up, whining and whimpering incessantly from the exhaustion settling into your body plus the soreness you were already feeling.

your eyes fluttered open and you looked at him. "...you're not gonna stay?"

toji turns to look at you. he looks you over, and laughs. this man fucking laughs. "stay? pfft..."

your eyebrows knit in confusion. "but--"

"nah, i'm going home." he stuffs his hands into his pockets, still smirking.

"you just-"

"i fucked you. yeah. what, you not used to boys leaving after?"

"...well, i just thought..."

"thought what? i'd be sweet an' give you aftercare? i'm not that type of guy, doll. you couldn't tell?"

you look at him, dumbfounded, as he turns his back on you. you look around and scoff incredulously before you spot a piece of ripped paper on the back of your phone on the nightstand-- with a number on it. his number, presumably.

---

when he got home, his phone buzzed. he took it out and read the notification... "hey, it's barista girl" he smirks to himself, staring at the message. maybe he'd respond in the next 24 hours if he felt like it... maybe he'd even offer to fuck you again. well... the pussy was good. why not?

[gemsofgreece]

"Μεγάλο Καφενείο", the "Grand Coffee Shop" in Trípoli, Arcadia is one of the oldest coffee shops in Greece and Europe. It is included in the list of "53 historical cafes in Europe" along with four more Greek coffee shops.

The business opened in 1840, ten years after the official recognition of the independent Hellenic State and it initially belonged to a warrior of the Independence War. It was most notably renovated in 1898. Up to 1923 it only accepted men who were over 40 years old. It only shut down temporarily twice throughout the course of its existence, the second time being the Coronavirus pandemic.

[lyrashifts]

. . . INTRODUCING MY MARAUDERS DR !

ABOUT : this dr is set in the 70s, and begins during my first year at hogwarts. it strays quite far from the actual events of the marauders era, and instead merges with the plot of the lighting era. in this dr, me and my friends work against prejudices and an upcoming war, as well as a very dangerous voldemort on the rise.

౨ৎ﹕[ ABOUT ME ! ]

+ name : lyra a. lavigne

+ nationality : english-french

+ birthplace : cambridge, england

+ languages : english, french

+ blood status : pureblood

+ house : gryffindor

+ moodboard

౨ৎ﹕[ PERSONALITY ! ]

+ likes : writing, playing the guitar, drawing, reading, theater, cookies, poetry, magical creatures and animals, going on long walks, baking, being better dressed than everyone else, jumpers, rainy days, shopping (especially for music and clothes), hozier, queen, david bowie, the smiths, little women, lemon iced tea, stealing james's invisibility cloak, pranking (and actually getting away with it)

+ known for : converse, cherry red, loving 90s muggle movies, being best friends with remus, reading at social events when bored, drinking too much coffee, having cool hair, my style, quoting dead poets society daily, leather jackets, liking hozier and the smiths way too much, being an amazing gift giver, having a new hairstyle every day, being nice to everyone unless they cross me, smelling like cinnamon, coffee, and books, being amazing at school and magic, somehow getting every lead role in plays, wearing jumpers and leather jackets in the dead of summer and not somehow overheating to the point of death

౨ৎ﹕[ BACKSTORY ! ]

+ backstory : i grew up in england where a lot of my family was but by the time i turned 13 we moved to scotland, partially to attend hogwarts and partially because my parents wanted to get away from some of our pureblood family members. my parents, though from a notable pureblood family, don't agree with the views of pureblood culture. because my parents' reputation for their last name still upheld, when we moved we were invited to an event that ended up just being a pureblood society ball. we only stayed out of politeness, but it was there that i met sirius and promised to be best friends with him when we got to hogwarts since we both hated the party.

౨ৎ﹕[ WARDROBE ! ]

+ description : my style in this dr can change a lot, especially taking into consideration the weather or location i'm in. in terms of colors, i wear a lot of neutrals but tend to have a specific color pop (which oftentimes a cherry red). during winter and autumn months, i am often wearing oversized jumpers (whether mine or stolen from remus). i also almost always wear flared or baggy pants. some of my iconic pieces include leather jackets, doc martens, band tees, baker boy hats, plaid skirts, and more. during the summer i tend to wear baby tees and babydoll tops, along with skirts. with my uniform, i pair many accessories to make it look as appealing as possible, and use magic to have different nails every day.

౨ৎ﹕[ LIFE AT HOGWARTS ! ]

+ general : students start first year at 14, so it is a sort of hybrid between highschool and university, where students have much more freedom once 18. school uniforms are only required during classes from monday - thursday, and on friday you may wear your desired outfit underneath your robes.

+ dorms : students are allocated private dorms that have within them a bed, a desk, a private bathroom, and more. once a student is assigned to a dorm, the dorm changes to accommodate that student's taste. once you are given your dorm number, you must choose a password and it is your responsibility to ensure students you do not want to come in cannot. in the case that a student knows your password and you do not want them to, you can ask a professor to change it and they will do so. alohomora will not unlock dorm rooms. dorms are organized by house, but boy's and girl's dorms are not separated - everything is instead organized by house and name.

+ extra-curriculars : the clubs i am part of include music club (which later inspires me and my friends to make a band), theater club, art club, care of magical creatures club, and in later years, the quidditch team

+ houses : the animosity between houses (especially slytherin and gryffindor) is not nearly as prevalent as depicted in the books. it is known that not all students in one house are the same, and so, while some friendly competition is encouraged, it is not uncommon to have friends from every house. students of every house are allowed into the common rooms and dorms (with permission of at least one person from that house).

+ events : all the events featured in this post are included in this dr

౨ৎ﹕[ ABOUT THIS DR ! ]

+ worldbuilding : not a lot changes about the war except for the fact that it's toned down and ends during my seventh year (which we redo since it would be similar to the last year in the harry potter books - looking for horcruxes without actually being at hogwarts). of course, none of my friends die. i haven't accounted for how the war will end exactly, so i suppose i'll let that work itself out organically.

+ main friends : remus lupin, sirius black, james potter, lily evans, regulus black, marlene mckinnon, mary macdonald.

+ relationships : i am a formal part of both the marauders and the valkyries. i became friends with the marauders at the start of the school year, and we were consequently established as a friend group before me and the girls. i tend to spend more time with the marauders but our groups often mingle since everyone gets along (except maybe lily and james at the beginning). i also have some friends in slytherin, such as andromeda and regulus, but i tend to stay away from the anti-muggleborn students.