#give a fuck and write my own timeline bc

[astridgilbertmikaelson]

best part about writing tvd/to fanfiction is making the fanfiction's chronology timeless. like "timeline? what's that?"

[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! 💕

[sleepyjuice-juice]

who else is fucked up about the new tbhk arc and chapter 114 like. atp i need aidairo to write out this other timeline as its separate story and have both timelines be canon bc. Oh my god can you imagine Teru and especially Kou returning to the original timeline, and just. Being aware of what they lost. Being more aware than ever of what could have been. Except unlike picture perfect, this life was real, and they had to lose their loved ones again. They had to experience exactly what they were about to be forced into giving up, which is something they've also craved after experiencing such loss in their original timeline, which makes this loss hit even harder. We know aidairo loves angst, so like, I really really don't think they're all gonna forget everything once they return to the og timeline. Which means they can't un-experience the love that is now absent in their own world - their perfect world, their perfect relationships, it's all going to leave an exit wound, a void they can't ever fill once they return home. I thikn im going to throw up

[prostocupoftea]

Kinitopet Programmers AU

finally i am finished with this one, daaaamn

it is hard to draw pathetic men with midlife crisis when your style is mostly for anime boys

more info and sketch version under the cut!!

sketch version aka how it'll probably look like in comic version 'n some doodles

srry for my writing but i was too laisy to put it as regular text

It is a plot-based au, i already have most of the storybits and like... a vibe-chart (i tried to make a playlist for this au and understood that for different chapters and different characters that'd be a copleatly different music, sooo it's a chart now :) )

i will post a fog-o-wared timeline that im hopefully gonna reveal comic-by comic, but also maybe with just pure writing. Hopefully i can include songs that i chose for them into it but we'll see (:

aaand of course designs can change, hopefully not much but we'll see

Now about au:

Main story:

Story follows non-sentient AI Kinito, his creator Sonny and his beta-tester Victoria (oc)

Being literally the first AI (or RRA in-univere) ever, Kinito does not have any, and i mean, any ai safety features so of course his reponce to a goal phrased as "have user near me and/or interacting with me as much as possible" is digitizing them into his own virtual world while killing them in the process. why wouldn't it be?

So that happened. Like, a lot. And with Sonny and Vic too (at the different time but yeah)

Sonny is like "He kills people. We should turn him off because, you know, killing people is bad."

Vic is like "well, we will die if we do that, and it is not that bad here, we are kinda immortal. We should give him acces to changing his initial instalation code before admin priveleges and acces to social media so we can have everythin we want here. It is not that bad to digitize humanity, yk?" and yes i know it is 90, no social media, but shut up, if they made ai then, then i can make twitter then too

Sonny is like "...no??"

And then they fight about it for million chapters

Also they both can't do anything without agreeing bc they have two parts of that admin access key (the data you use to delete kinito in-game) so they are stuck with eachother (also that's why Kinito can't just kill them)

Little facts that may or may not to be important:

Kinito asks so many questions (and weird once too) and has most of the glitches because he needs to analise your responces to copy your mind perfectly (let's pretend that people wouldn't lie about that...)

Your house in your virtual world is made from important places from your memories and oh boy can i do character explorations with this one

I decided that Sonny and Vic are not related. There were thoughts about making then "The Kinito Brothers" (or, at least, siblings) that were mentioned in commercial, but nah, they are just coworkers now. And a bit of work-friends (bc if you interact a lot as a manager of the project and the best worker might as well be friendly)

Author has no idea how small dying toy companies that accidentally create technological marvel work. Author has some idea how AI-s work. So be prepared to be spoon-fed info abut which ai safety problem we are dealing with in which chapter (:

Kinito will mostly be unrendered (as drawn here) but for some cool moments i might pose him as for my other posts. Also his eye placement changes to the side that is most visible because i want him to be able to look to the right side sometimes--

Also when i say "fucked up mentally" i mean they have that them psychological problems with me projecting heavilly B) (guess on who i project most. trick question. all of them. the whole au is my problems split into three characters and forced to interact B) )

Also sea-creature analogies (that are gonna be mentioned like twice):

Victoria is a flying fish because deep character reasons

Sonny is a pufferfish because i said so

oh also there is 7 deaths in the plot as for now

on 3 characters

good luck figuring out who, how and when ((:

for my own sanity i will probably make little doodles where everything is great and kinito is a good guy and not a number-obsessed maniac (i mean... can u imagine not being able to feel any happiness from anything besides one thing... damn...) and you can differenciate them bc good-guy kinito will have a lot of stickers on him (i will explain it somehow but real reason is just bc it is cute af)

like this but even more stickers (he is unfinished here)

[cross-d-a]

you know… now that I’m thinking about it. I think what makes The Acolyte feel so non-canon to me is that it really DOES seem like someone’s rpg or self-insert fic. Which isn’t inherently a bad thing!! Bc so much can be explored and analyzed and you can have SOO much FUN with those things!!! I guess my problem is that at the heart of it, The Acolyte doesn’t feel like it perfectly fits into the Star Wars canon. And this IS supposed to be canon, which is the Problem, for me. If this was a fic I’d have some questions but be mostly satisfied, because it’s just someone playing with the Star Wars canon and emphasizing the parts of it they like. I’d enjoy their take on it, even if I didn’t agree or it felt out of character for canon.

But again. This is Canon, and it doesn’t wholly feel like canon. It feels like someone who’s extremely passionate about Star Wars focused only on the things they cared about, and waved away certain parts of canon to support their own desired story.

Which is an issue because Star Wars is a Shared story. It’s a shared, beautiful universe that SO many people have had their hands in. And when you’re given the chance to dig your hands into it and shape something of your own, you can’t just think of your own wants. You have to think about the needs of the overall GFFA. It’s your responsibility to emulate the heart and soul of the universe that George Lucas created. You have to respect the already established canon and all the creators who have come before you and all the creators who will come after. That’s what creates a good, strong universe where everything informs and supports each other.

Not that the creators of The Acolyte don’t respect other SW creators, I just think they lost sight of the greater GFFA in the excitement of creating a uniquely placed story within an already established timeline.

I think Darth Plagueis’ appearance really brought this home for me, because after the initial shock of OMG ITS HIM!!!! I realized..Oh. So the creators are doing the fanfic kind of thing where you write in the blank holes to explain what happens in pre-established canon, but they’re doing it with an RPG flare. The creators have a very specific story they want to tell. And it’s this very specific storyline that they desperately want to fit into a very limited number of episodes that makes you realize: Oh. The plot is leading the characters instead of the characters pushing and informing the plot. It feels far less organic this way.

Like “Oh, we need to explain Darth Plagueis and how he led to Palpatine so we’re gonna fit some spunky characters in there to play out a very confined and specific storyline where we get to have some fun with things!!” Except it’s hard to have a successful story when you somehow both limit yourself and give yourself TOO much leeway. Because again, you need to respect ALL of established canon even when you don’t like it. And if you don’t like it, write it so it makes sense to you, write it so you can Explain it to yourself. I’ve done that with plenty of characters and canon plots, where I play with canon rules but expand it in a way that I’m satisfied with (I’ve come away from these fics liking characters I absolutely hated before!).

But I digress. I don’t really want to be negative about The Acolyte, because everyone involved with the obviously has a lot of love and passion for Star Wars, and there’s no way I can resent them for that. Because they did create something amazing and did a lot of super cool things and I did, overall, enjoy it (even if it broke my heart). All the actors were brilliant and I adore them. Every single person involved put so much hard work into it and I don’t want them to feel discouraged. And I really don’t want them getting any hate. They don’t deserve that. We saw what happened with Jake Lloyd and Hayden Christensen and Ahmed Best and I think it would be really fucking awful if that got repeated. No one’s mental health is worth a click-bait video or hate tweet. Absolutely no one.

So it’s with this in mind that I think the creators did their absolute best, but should have gotten more direction so they didn’t lose themselves in the process.

Ultimately, it’s an enjoyable show for me personally. They explore some cool concepts and I lost my mind over Plagueis. I just wish the characters had time to grow and feel Real. I wish the actors got more TIME with their characters, too, because they really put their hearts and souls into it. I wish it hadn’t felt like they were completely focused on explaining how the High Republic declined while Palpatine and the Empire rose to power. There’s ways you can do that in a story that feels like its wholly its own, rather than something borrowed, or feeling like you’re cramming your story into a very narrow space in the timeline hoping it’ll fit. And even though they clearly plan for a second season, I wish we’d had a much longer season, so we could feel more emotionally connected and involved with the characters and storyline. I wanted a story and characters that feel less contrived and more real and whole and like actual living, breathing people. Like a story I’m devastated I cannot change, because it DID actually happen a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

I have more specific thoughts about the portrayal of Jedi and Sith and the regular galactic citizen— because the use of perspective and bias and unreliable narration is actually SO incredibly fascinating and skillfully used in this show. Though I don’t necessarily approve of the corrupt Jedi storyline, because NO ONE should be blamed for their own genocide and it very much strays from the fact that the Jedi Order is based in Buddhism and not whatever Western religious (probably traumatized) perspective has informed The Acolyte and parts of the fandom. I’m not a fan of “edgy” takes just for the shock value or angst bc! again! please respect the canon as a whole. And there’s a way to handle the fall of the Jedi that both respects them and admits their faults and also!! Talks about!! How the relationship between the Republic and the Jedi warped through unreasonable obligations! And how the Sith were the downfall of the Jedi!! And how they PLAYED the Jedi!!! That’s what makes Palpatine so terrifying!!!!!!!!! But that’s a whole other post.

But I’ll leave it off here. In the end I hope they get green-lighted for a second season and that they learn from this first one. But I also hope they don’t come away from this discouraged and that ultimately it’s a good experience for them. For my part, I also hope I get to have some more favourite Jedi characters and that I get to spend a little longer time with them :’)

[drifloonz]

General dating headcannons for Red or Steven plz🥺👉🏼👈🏼

MY FIRST ASK FINALLY ( ok there was one before this but i didn't see that I'LL GET TO YOU LATER SORRY ) hiii . i can do that 4 u. idk if u meant glitchy or Normal Red so i'll just tack them all in one big post. we love champions who are slightly deranged ( and also red. who's like. just normal. relatively. ) i can write so much for these 3 you will regret it. some of these became general headcanons but i hope this feeds you for at least a week.

because i wrote way too much. Like. Way too much. I apologize in advance theres so much

dating headcanons for red, steven, and glitchy red!

Red

♡ of course, he's mute - whether selectively or he just literally can't speak ( or almost literally never chooses to speak ). i prefer the ladder bc red speaking feels wrong. due to this, if you know sign, he can communicate that way - but he's also really good at just like.... gesturing. it may be harder to understand at first, but the more you get to know him the more you learn certain expressions or gestures. he also makes noises, grunts(?) of affirmation, hums, things like that. he really likes making those sorts of noises actually, especially if you're dating him. he's actually pretty expressive when he wants to be, so he's not that hard to understand.

♡ on a related note, he likes to hold you ( being the big spoon... he likes making you feel comfortable and protected ) and hum against you, making you sorta feel his chest vibrate a little bit.

♡ his form of affection is very much physical, he loves to hug you and to hold your hand. even if he's the champion ( or an ex-champion? it's unclear, nobody's really stated to dethrone him iirc, he just takes breaks, vacations, and does tournaments sometimes ) he won't care about giving you physical affection in public for the world to see. especially if it flusters you but you don't seriously have an issue with it, then he loves to give you just little kisses on the cheek. when your face is red ( pun semi-intended ) it makes you look cute, to him.

♡ if you have a pokemon team of your own or are in any way interested in battling he'll love to show you the ropes or help you get better at it. he won't fight you immediately if you're not that great, but he will tell you what pokemon he thinks you'd like ( probably just . showing you ones in his pokedex or googling them idk. ) . he just loves to teach and help people get better at things bc you know battling and catching mons is this dudes special interest all the way. he even probably knows and cares about IVs and EVs and natures, but doesn't teach you about those immediately since its more advanced stuff.

♡ also yea he's autistic. All of these 3 are actually. Massive win for the autism community.

♡ if we're making strangled red canon to this red's timeline the reason he's so interested in pokemon training and battling is bc he looked up to steven who Also loved that shit to death. steven at his prime was arguably even more competitive and good than red was. to be determined though since he fucked off, but he was probably an undefeated champion until the incident. This is more of a general red hc than a dating one and also more of a steven hc but it's semirelated. if not, he probably had a lifelong interest in this sort of stuff via watching the other champions in other regions on his tv, in the news, or something like that.

♡ sometimes if you explicitly agree to it ( bc he doesn't want to give you things you don't want or don't wanna be responsible for ) he'll randomly just... give you a pokemon he caught. he just gives you it and goes 'thought of you when i saw this.' in sign.

♡ his pokemon are also naturally protective of and like you too. give them pets and treats and they will be all over you. they might even be more affectionate with you than red sometimes. red doesn't take serious offense to it, he thinks its funny tbh.

♡ his idea of dates are either entirely regular things like going to a cafe or having a picnic or it's shit like hiking up mt. silver or flying on the back of his massive fucking charizard and just seeing where the wind takes you two. he's an adventurer at heart, and if you like that then you'll love him bc one month you'll be in kanto in his house and the next you'll be in fucking galar or something. never a dull moment, really.

♡ massive cuddler. as said before. big spoon, although he won't object to being the little spoon if you really wanna. will Not let go of you unless you really want him to as well. he snores a little in his sleep, but not to a disruptive degree. it's cute. alternatively, if you don't wanna cuddle him he'll probably have plushies or a pillow he holds in his sleep instead. me, my boyfriend, and his 500 poke four-foot tall pikachu plushie

♡ he's not too much of a fashion guy but he does find matching outfits cute. honestly, he'd buy you the same or a similar hat/vest as his just bc he thinks you'd look really cute in it.

♡ he's probably taller than you. not comically, but noticeably. likes to pat your head sometimes. he finds it funny if ur shorter than him like damn. How's the weather down there.

♡ gives so many kisses. doesn't give many on the lips, actually? especially in public. he Will but not as often. he really loves kisses on the cheek in particular, giving and receiving. the loverboy...

♡ overall A tier boyfriend. big teddy bear type of guy. amazing cuddles. 10/10.

Steven

♡ assuming this is far past all 3 of his stories ( post miki and mike death, post whatever the hell he did in doors open and strangled ) how the fuck did you even start dating him

♡ regardless of the way ( i like to think that you stumbled into his home out of curiosity and he just was sort of irritated but let you stay and then became attached ), i'm assuming this is past all of that, and therefore steven has become a little less fucking murderous. if you met him earlier while he was still in a very easy to anger state, he'd probably've killed you. he knows this and he's always going on horrible thought processes of 'oh god what if i hurt them too' and that sorta thing.

♡ 100% taller than you. he's like 6'5" or taller. perhaps even Inhumanely Tall due to like missingno or something. he's usually slouching all the time due to this and he has horrible scoliosis and back problems probably. but when he stands up to his full height. jesus christ. he will def tease you, usually wordlessly and with actions, by just like. leaning on you or putting his hand flat on yours to emphasize the height difference. he thinks its funny.

♡ steven, like glitchy, is actually really social despite how he looks and acts. or at least, craves being social - or socialized with. he used to be looked up to, he used to talk to people and often, and he used to be a champion. of course, he was still a man of few words back then as well, but not as few as he is now. due to this, he'll mostly give you straightforward answers or sentences, and slowly become a bit more talkative as the relationship progresses. still, he does prefer to just listen to you talk and nod along or hum in approval... your voice comforts him.

♡ you also have to be decently far in the relationship to coax him into doing this, but he may even go out with you. like. Like out into the world. he's been so scared of how everything's changed, and of course, he does go out sometimes but he tries to avoid society as hard as he can. Do not ask steven how the fuck he got into bell tower he probably just snuck in there one night after flying to johto w miki or some shit. i like to think he himself either requested all of his info be just sort of swept under the rug after he lost miki due to feeling like he didn't deserve to be a champion without her, or the kanto league intentionally tried to make everyone forget about him after his dissapearance - since it's been so long, this has been relatively successful. only red, blue, daisy, and oak would probably know him nowadays along with some older pallet town and kanto residents probably. therefore if you wanna take him out into the world maybe avoid pallet town since it's oughta be cause for a lot of concern to the townspeople, and he really doesn't want to worry them all.

♡ despite this he does worry about the remaining residents. he never got to see red or blue go on their own journeys since he became a hermit before that happened, so he's worried about their safety. if you tell him they're fine he'll be so fucking relieved. Alternatively, they're not ( snow on mt silver and or blue tears, among other pokepastas that could've happened ) but you know. don't tell them if they aren't fine, he doesn't want to know. either way, he also feels extremely awkward about the whole daisy thing as he never officially broke up with her, he just sort of left. but obviously, he's in a relationship with you now - he just can't help but worry about her as well sometimes.. mostly just hoping that she's had a better life than he has.

♡ his voice is gruff and rough and a little scratchy from not using it that much. this won't change too much but if you're into that then well. good news for you ig. please give this man tea with a lot of honey he needs it. and he also probably likes tea more than coffee anyways for various reasons.

♡ he sometimes has nightmares about The Incident ( both miki's death, which is scarred into his brain, and murdering mike. possibly also him killing two unrelated people who were probably kids in doors open and strangled as well, but much less than his nightmares about murdering mike and miki dying. he has a lot lying on his conscious ). he'll wake up silently, probably sweating and trying not to wake you up, but if you do wake him up, just talk to him - take his mind off of it or relax him. he'll appreciate it. he'll happily do the same for you.

♡ hugs you really tightly. is not aware of his own strength or grip until you ask him to do it less. he hugs you like you'll die if you escape his arms, essentially. due to this he will also hug you a lot while cuddling, especially in bed. he doesn't want you to leave his embrace, and may even be a little tentative to let go if you ask him to.

♡ type of dude to wake up early morning, grumble something about "five more minutes," sleep in and then fall asleep with you again and then the two of you wake up at like 5 pm with major bedheads. he has a nonexistent schedule. he doesn't even sleep that often, usually opting to just stay up until he physically can't keep his eyes open. he sleeps... for very long periods of time.

♡ he likes to take walks and just roam. he did this a lot more before he killed mike but after miki died, just roaming and pacing endlessly across kanto since he had nothing else to do, and now he sort of doesn't do it out of fear of someone recognizing him.. but if you say you're gunna go on a walk he'll happily ask to join, just... expect him to not follow if you go into an area that's too public. it overwhelms him + fear of being recognized or perceived in general by people that aren't you.

♡ he has PTSD, depression, BPD, and probably more. be patient with him. he can sometimes moodswing or close himself off from you because he's scared he'll hurt you and may even intentionally push you away as a sort of mental self harm method. just give him time and be patient. he never wants to hurt you when he's like that, he's just scared.

♡ it's funny how we've gotten this far without mentioning miki that much. anyways! miki. steven still has her, still is very overprotective of her, and that does not change with you. of course he's mostly sure that miki can hold her own so he's more scared of how she might react to you, but she's perfectly fine about it. steven will often allow her to just wander on her own accord around the house, so you might have some Unintentional Miki Jumpscares, especially since she likes to follow you sometimes. going to the bathroom and then exiting? face first into colliding with miki's stomach. she's like a cat. she really likes you and is also very curious about you. steven will often allow you to take her with you if you go outside as a defensive method, even though you probably have your own pokemon. even if you don't want her to come with you she'll usually follow you outside like a dog who wants to go on a walk - or a fly - really badly. she'll also offer you random things she finds lying around like rocks or sticks. steven will often not be far behind either if you and miki are outside, since he's both very worried about you and miki to a pretty equal degree. he finds her attitude towards you very cute though, and is happy that she takes to you quite well.

♡ if you're affectionate with miki, steven will find it very cute. especially considering her whole... condition. which steven was worried about you seeing. but if you're fine with it then those worries calm down a lot. steven loves to talk about her as well - it's one of the few things you can ask him that actually will prompt him to say much more than a few sentences at a time. he will ramble about how wonderful and powerful she is and how him and her were undefeated champions of kanto... at least until the incident. miki and you are sort of the last things he has that can make him smile genuinely anymore and he loves both very much.

♡ he may talk to you, probably in one of his sort of unstable spiralling states, about the Incidents(tm) and how you should stay away from him and that he's a monster. he'll genuinely sort of break if you still show him affection after how much he tries to push you away in his unstable states. it does reassure him, but he's so confused as to why you're still even with him sometimes. all he can think of is... why would someone want a murderer like him?

♡ a lot of his skills wore down since he self-isolated for years and years. he does cook well though. just buy him groceries so not every dinner and lunch between you two is a microwave or oven meal and he'll cook for you. he's especially good at making dinners. type of dude to wear an apron with kiss the cook on it. his eating behaviors are very unhealthy ( he doesn't eat that much ) so doing this also sort of helps him get back into that. if you also have bad eating behaviors he'll try to help you out as well.

♡ fucking loves pokemon battling and being competitive, which has obviously taken a backseat since The Incident(s), but he'll be happy to help you with anything pokemon related, similarly to red. he's such a massive tryhard, or at least was, when he was still on his journey that he knows almost anything and everything about how to make your pokemon the strongest they can be - he was allegedly an undefeated champion after all. he'd happily battle with you, if uh, miki didn't have the high possibility of accidentally killing your own pokemon. and he released all of his Normal Pokemon. so. but he'll help you catch pokemon and will be happy with treating your pokemon like his own as well. he just hopes they'll all get along with miki...

♡ similarly, if you have any plans to do the gym challenge in kanto, he'll raise an eyebrow in intrigue and help you but will give you a warning of "It's been a couple years, so things might not be the same, but from what I remember..." and will straight up tell you all of their teams and everything he remembers abt each gym battle. those days were very memorable and happy for him so he remembers each triumphant victory him and miki had against each gym leader and elite four member happily.

♡ if you become the champion - of either kanto or a different region entirely, or were already - it would make things a little complicated, considering most people treating champions like celebrities and steven did Not want anybody to know you were dating him nor wanted the publicity, as it'd cause complications probably. but he'd be happy for you. it'd be very ironic though... a champion dating an ex champion... he is attracted to people who were strong though, and you were no doubt strong if you became a champion.

♡ reaaallly loves hugging you. especially backhugs. he likes surprising you with a backhug, since he's honestly pretty good at sneaking around. thinks you getting scared is a little funny, admittedly, but he'll stop if asked. like red, he also loves being the big spoon and humming so you can sort of feel a vibration from his chest. very comforting and good to go to sleep to.

♡ he sort of just... follows you around wherever you go, really. doesn't have much else to do.

♡ a fact that many people forget is that steven is canonically a gamer for better or for worse. he has so many stocked-up consoles and games and i like to think he collects them too. due to this he will happily play games with you or watch you play them happily. he will try to impress you w how well he plays certain games bc he's a bit of a nerd. he also knows glitches in a lot of games he owns #lol

♡ i like to think that pokemon cards exist in universe and he probably also just collects those. he has every charizard card to date. don't ask him how he got those, he'll just give you a Look and refuse to answer ( either paid way too much or stole them or something ).

♡ continuing the whole collecting thing he has all of his trophies and badges and adjacent stuff lined up somewhere near his bed. will happily brag to you about how he got each one in hopes to impress you, and also to reminisce on the better times. He also probably has a charizard plushie or two.

♡ if you wanna style his hair he'll allow you. feel absolutely free. he really doesn't do much with it other than lazily wash it nowadays anyways, so he doesn't mind. he likes the sensation of your hands in his hair as well... it's comforting. just try not to tug or yank his hair.

♡ he's a little overprotective and he will often try to keep you in his home. he's worried about losing you if you go outside, and he isn't too willing to follow considering his urban legend reputation within kanto. things like asking you to stay just a few more days, but he'll always say that when you mention needing to leave. if you're persistent enough, he'll let you go, but he's just worried... and very clingy. be sure to at least send him messages ( if he even has a phone ), if you intend to be gone for longer than a day.

♡ if you have a pokemon team, which, you probably do, he'll be happy to learn about and get along with each and any of them. as long as they get along with miki or are at least willing to, he's fine with them.

♡ overall very depressed man but he's also a big teddybear and loves you sooo much he just isn't good at expressing it. 10/10 ( <- clearly biased )

Glitchy Red

♡ glitchy, on the other hand from red, is Very fucking talkative. red and glitchy are like... the opposite of eachother which i find very funny. not entirely, of course they share similarities due to being generally the same person, but being trapped in a game so long made him desperate for any sort of touch, any sort of contact, any sort of socialization of ANY kind. which is why he's talkative - he may stumble over his own words or trip up on them since he's only used to speaking through textboxes, which embarrasses him. don't comment on it or he'll probably just not talk for the rest of the day.

♡ sometimes if you touch him you'll get that static shock . he'll apologize a lot if he ever does this because it's usually unintentional and just a thing that can Happen due to his whole... state. happens more often when he's upset, happens less when he isn't.

♡ his glitches seem to stutter to a sort of rhythm sometimes. if you're observant enough, these usually give away his current emotional state. he gets glitchier the more upset he is, obviously, and he gets more stable the more happy he is. so around you... he's usually pretty stable.

♡ really likes holding your hand. it assures to him that yes, you are real... and you are with him. any form of contact makes him happy, but holding his hand is just simple and nice and it grounds him.

♡ if this isn't in the pokemon universe, then i'd like to think you can play pokemon games around him and he'll just commentate on it and won't be too bitter as long as modern red doesn't show up. he probably unironically likes a lot of the pokemon he's never seen, but will just go like. "tch. whatever. pikachu's better." under his breath, since he never wants to admit he likes anything pokemon related past certain gens. he's that type of dude who'd get so unnaturally angry about dexit.

♡ he's also very judgemental about the way you play games, especially pokemon lol. he's a fucking backseat gamer oh my god. he's honestly not that actually genuine abt his comments hes just very used to bitching abt the way ppl play games due to Being in one for so long. he did it to annoy people and make them stop playing and it worked. if you get a little angry at him about this he'll notice and mumble an apology.

♡ like steven, he'll just follow you around and hang around you for most of the day. he legitimately doesn't have anything else to do, so.

♡ he doesn't need to sleep or eat, but he can still feel the sensations of taste and touch and he fucking loves finally having self-agency and the ability to feel these things. everything in his own world became extremely dull, even the pain after a point. plus he never ate food in there, so yk. due to this will eat a lot of food and will touch anything he can, intaking their textures.

♡ has autism, probably ptsd, misophonia ( especially with fucked up game noises they'll make him go into a state of pretty raw anger ), bpd, and prob more.

♡ loooves cats and cat pokemon and anything adjacent and im definitely not taking this headcanon from like several artists. really likes litten and skitty, particularly.

♡ if you let him, he loves to just touch you all over. just like. rub your cheeks. pat your head. run his hands through your hair. he's so unused to feeling any of this that he can get absolutely lost in feeling how ... real you are.

♡ he's the type of guy to chug cans of monster and then wonder why his bodys reacting poorly, glitching all over the fucking place as he has a sugarrush like response to it. he didn't even know that could Happen as a bodily response so he's just so panicky when he intakes too much sugar or caffeine until you explain that to him LMAO

♡ he'll take up like several hobbies and then drop most of them out of impatience and disinterest, but he'll try almost anything once. he does like idly cooking or cleaning since they're useful to the both of you.

♡ loves to go outside and explore. it's the red in him. if you allow him to he loves to just take your hand and walk around wherever you live. if you get tired, he'll carry you, since he doesn't really get tired - if he does, not as quickly as you do for certain. people may give him odd looks, but he could care less.

♡ his kisses feel like electricity but in the best way

♡ on a related note, kiss him all over. he'll get so flustered and he'll stutter out cute little embarrassed noises and then he'll just pull his cap over his face to hide his expression a little.

♡ ... admittedly, he's like the only guy on this list who prefers to be the little spoon, but he'll default to the big spoon just because he likes to make you happy. but the second you have your arms around his body he'll never want you to let go. he's insanely touchstarved. he's like a cat that constantly is rubbing against your leg for attention after this. please hug him throughout all times of day.

♡ despite being so talkative theres some days where he just doesn't feel like saying too much. mostly because he's tired, in any sense of the word, or overthinking or something. just be patient and loving with him.

♡ it's actually pretty easy to make him flustered or to make him smile. give him any form of compliment, praise, or touch, and his face will be red ( pun intended, again ) and he'll be smiling so large. it's really cute.

♡ his hair is sharp to the touch if he's unstable and stressed, but if he isn't it's very fluffy. run your hands through his hair and take his cap off and he'll fall asleep so quickly.

♡ speaking of, like red, since theyre... yk the same person for the most part, he also snores. it just has a sort of glitchy tone to it like his voice does. it is comforting though, and he snores a lot louder than regular red.

♡ wouldn't it be funny if he could enter your dreams while you sleep too like at the end of the og pokepasta. if you have a nightmare he just notices somehow and beats the nightmare to death and just cuddles you and helps you feel better. either that or he just gets so lonely that he just visits you in your dreams sometimes to talk to your consciousness. he probably has a lot of sleepless nights where he'll just enter your dreams to have something to do.

♡ overall, very easily embarrassed and flustered touchstarved boyfriend. he's a little moody but he's very cute. 10/10. i am never ranking one of these mfs under 10/10 because im biased.

[imposterogers]

i maintain the reason they didnt even bother trying to write a scene where steve tells bucky is bc they knew it would make him look like an unredeemable piece of shit for going to play house leaving his heavily traumatized best friend a (who didn't value himself enough to ask steve to stay bc he felt he didnt deserve steve's friendship) alone with absolutely no one in his life, while he fucked off back to a time where said best friend was actively being brutally tortured and forced to kill for a nazi organization

steve rogers: i'm glad you and sam are back. overjoyed. that means my work here is done

bucky: ....what?

steve: well yah. I figured, hey. got some of those pym particles left over. may as well make a pit stop in 1948.... stay for oh, maybe 80 years..... then i'll come back and pass the shield onto sam.

bucky: you're leaving me alone in an unfamiliar world with practically no friends or kin when I just came back from the dead.... for a woman who had her own family and died of old age

steve: wow, I thought this would be harder to explain. but yah. you get it. I knew you would.

bucky: what are you going to do?

steve: sit back, relax. i've been running myself ragged, i deserve some rest right?

bucky: are you going to change anything?

steve: well I mean maybe, but it doesn't really go with the vibe. could save you from being tortured by hydra for 70 years, but it wouldn't be you. it would be an alternate version of you. but then again, built-in best friend!

bucky: what about the original steve in that timeline

steve: he's sleeping under ice in the arctic, pal! its perfect! i'll high tail it out of there when they find his body in 2012

bucky: are you going to help sam with the transition into being cap?

steve: what? no of course not. just going to give him the shield and fuck off. he'll know what to do

bucky: oh

[princesssmars]

one last night

a five hargreeves x reader

its the end of the world. might as well make the most of it.

wc: 2.001

contains: fluff, angst, and swearing bc theyre all gonna die. five being a lovable grumpy shit. in my head five is physically the same age as aidan bc look at that mf and tell me hes 13 PLEASE.

a/n: the new season broke me so im writing this and reading fics to cope. i wrote it confusingly but the hand grab dance scene is based on that scene from the end of bridgerton season 2 bc kates eyes...i need to bring a man down with doe eyes like that fr. anyway hope yall enjoy.

.

well. this is it. the end of the world. the last days of your life. not how you imagined you'd go out, to be honest. you put the chances of dying during a commission assignment at about 98%. frankly a little low.

but you’d always been a little optimistic, so the remaining 2% went to your own personal fantasy. that maybe, one day, you'd retire from the commission. maybe use a briefcase to settle down somewhere of your choosing and live out the rest of your days in peace. and maybe, you would live out those days with your best friend. and, maybe, if you really wanted to push it, he'd turn from best friend to something more.

but that dream doesn't matter anymore, does it? you, along with your partner and his family had made the fuck up of a lifetime and created a kugelblitz - the end all of everything. its almost funny. how you'd given up most of your life to "fixing the timeline" just to end up ruining all of them.

hilarious.

so, here you are. in a shittily-lit hotel room getting dressed for a quickly put-together wedding at the end of the world.

god, how your life has changed.

you hear a knock at the door, saying a silent “come in.” to whoever stands behind it.

a soft smile graces your face when you see five enter the room. he stops a few steps from the doorway as he observes you, likely noticing how you'd dressed up more than usual. "you sure clean up nice, hargreeves." you tease, smiling as he does.

"well, you don't look half bad yourself." he takes in more of your outfit, looking you up and down. you feel your face heat up.

"a genuine compliment from the five hargreeves himself? it truly is the end of the world."

"im a man who tells the truth, you know this better than anyone." he keeps walking until he stands next to you, automatically raising his head so you can fix his tie.

"even when people don't want to hear it." you give him a knowing look as you do his tie for him. he knows how, but likes how you do it better. he likes to pretend you don't know.

"especially then."

when you finish fixing the tie, you smooth it over and run your hands over his vest. you look him in the eyes to see him already looking at you with an emotion in his that you can't quite place.

you want to ask him how he feels. about what happened when you went to the commission and saw everything you'd ever known just gone. about never getting longer than a day to just rest. about your impending doom.

about you.

he opens his mouth to speak but you both startle as a sharp knock sounds from the door.

you look over to see a slightly awkwardly standing viktor, who moves his hands to his pockets after gesturing to the hallway.

"hey, uh.. its time for us all to head down, the ceremony is about to start."

both of your lips purse into awkward smiles as he stands in the doorway for a few more seconds before exiting quietly.

its silent for a few more seconds as the two of you stand there. the moment has passed. yet again reminded of your fate.

he looks at you again with a soft yet slightly sad smile. "well, my dear, are you ready to face our imminent doom while getting stupidly drunk with my family?"

you laugh slightly at his dry delivery and grasp his hand in yours.

"ready as i'll ever be."

.

.

.

the ceremony is sickly sweet, perfect for the match-up that is luther and sloane. the way they look at each other during their vows pulls on your heartstrings. but you have to remind yourself that you're happy for them. there's no point in being jealous or sad now.

after the ceremony, you and your merry band of heroes make it to the dance floor, with you and allison heading straight to the drinks table. you watched her as she downed her glass in a few seconds, feeling bad at the state of the woman who you've come to know as a close friend. but if you were in her position you would have gone off the rails long ago. a voice in the back of your head tells you you have.

the reception is lovely, and the bride and groom very much in love despite the weirdness of it all. and the fact that they choose to prioritize and focus on their love rather than the apocalyptic events happening just outside…it gives you a sense of hope.

when reginald gives his speech it's safe to say everyone in the room is stunned. you've barely gotten to know three variations of the hargreeves patriarch but you know that he's far from a pleasant person. during late nights doing paperwork at the commission you and five would share stories about your respective childhoods, with his being as dark as you expected from the stand-offish man. but it felt nice to know that he trusted you so deeply.

after the initial reception, there's some downtime for everyone to indulge in the surprisingly above-average food from the hotel's bar and restaurant. you get yourself a plate before sitting at a table near the back of the room, silently eating and drinking and observing the family around you.

you're interrupted by lila pulling out and sitting in the chair next to yours, sitting sideways to look you dead on.

“would you please stop with the puppy dog eyes and make a move on that little turd? seeing the two of you dance around each other has made me sick for years.”

your voice sputters as you try to come up with an excuse, having not expected the girl to call you out so brazenly. she raises her eyebrows as she knows she got you stuck and you let out a sigh.

“it wouldn't matter if i did. even if he felt the same we’re all going to die in a day's time. and id rather not spend this last day with him awkwardly.”

“so you're going to die wondering? never knowing if he liked you back? and i thought i was dumber when it came to relationships.”

“that's still debatable.”

“hey!” she lightly punches you in the shoulder, laughing at your slight wince. “you know im right. not to get sappy but… it's much better when they know how much you care.

as she speaks her gaze wanders over to diego and you have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes at the sight of their barely hidden lovesickness.

you were close to brushing off her comments again when her arm quickly juts out to knock into yours, lifting her chin slightly to the left. you turn your head and none other than five stands beside you, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets before one comes out to lay flat in front of you.

“would you care for a dance, y/n?”

with his abnormally soft smile (and lila’s not-so-subtle jab to your other arm), you accept his offer and gently place your hand in his so he can lead you to the dance floor. you can’t help but notice how there's a slow song playing and the only other couple on the dance floor are the newlyweds.

he turns from leading you to standing right in front of you, the closeness taking you by surprise. he smiles at you, moving your hands to wrap around his arms as his go around your waist and shoulder.

“a waltz? seriously? you always seemed to hate those at the company dances.” you tease.

“probably because gertrude wallhaven would always try to dance with me.”

“she just had a little crush on you. lots of the women did. you were the five hargreeves, after all.”

five smiles at your words, starting the slow dance that you know by heart. “is that a bit of jealousy i hear?”

you scoff and roll your eyes. five always was a tease when he drank. “you’d like it to be, wouldn't you? ever the conceited one.”

he huffs a short laugh, swinging you around quickly so you do the same. “well, that is one reason.”

“and what may be the other one, if you would be so kind as to inform me.” you smile up at him, the alcohol starting to take an effect on you and cause you to become more open than usual.

“that I'm deeply in love with you and its been driving me crazy-ow!”

your mind is completely blank for a few seconds before you realize that not only have you stopped dancing but you that you also just crushed five’s foot with your own.

“oh my god, five, im so sorry,” you quickly trying to apologize and help your struggling partner. he stands up as straight as he can, slightly bent on his right side as he waves your worries off.

“peter donahue always did say you had a killer stomp on the dance floor. now i can see why he kept going to the infirmary.” five gives you a strained smile, taking your hands in his again.

“just another one of my many talents.”

you both restart your dance, this time with no words shared. five occasionally tries to hold eye contact with you, and you make sure to avoid it every time. you don't know what to make of his confession. if it was heartfelt or a spur-of-the-moment confession that was given since you would all be dead within a day. you knew as soon as you looked into his bright eyes you would crumble.

but five knew that like he knew everything about you. he took your hand and grasped your fingers together before bringing your arms above your heads and bringing them down between you, and you cant help but stare into his eyes as he does the same.

“please tell me you meant it. because if you didn't then i don't know what i’d do.” you plead, grasping his hand to your chest.

“do you remember that mission in bali, where we had to terminate that guy who found a cure for cystic fibrosis? we there for maybe two hours and you kept complaining about the heat.”

“it was a steady 80 degrees and we were wearing commission suits, of course i was miserable.”

“im aware. it was when we finally killed the guy and you took some of his cash to get some better clothes and you somehow managed to convince me to come down with you to the beach. we were sitting in the sand and it was annoying as all hell but you seemed so happy that i couldn't even complain. and i just knew.”

your chest tightens. “knew what?”

“that i loved you. that i still do. and that i’m an idiot for waiting so long to tell you. guess our impending doom and the cheap liquor finally gave me the courage to say something.” he finishes, holding you close as you stand in the middle of the dance floor. you know some of his siblings are bound to be staring because of the close display but you can find it in you to care. all that matters is that you finally have the love of your life in your arms, even if just for a short while.

“not to be pushy but i haven't heard an “i love you” back so im getting pretty worried over here.” five jokes, staring at you with love but worry in his eyes

you laugh at five’s joke, bringing your lips to his cheek to give him a short but sweet kiss. “i love you too, partner.”

“good. now, what do you say we get drunk off our asses and have the best night of our lives with my dysfunctional family?

you smile. “i couldn't ask for anything better.”

.

.

[hongcherry]

Hello love, Hope you're doing good :)

I've never been read a detailed aftercare scene in most of the fanfic and Im here to make a request, coz i can only trust your writing ! YOU ALWAYS NAIL IT 💅

Can we get a detailed aftercare scene (like washing her up, helps dressing, foods, some good cuddles) after some rough and good sex 🫢 ? maybe (fwb) jimin × reader

*sorry if there was any mistake coz english is not my first language

💞 Pairing: fwb!Jimin x Reader (afab)

💞 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Fluff, smut; Friends with benefits

💞 Warnings: pet name (kitten—bc its not a jimin fic if i don't include it sorry), rough sex, spanking, hair pulling, protected sex, dirty talk, reference to multiple orgasms, mention of feeling sore, aftercare(!!!)

💞 Word Count: 1.2k

💞 Author's Note: YOU'RE THE SWEETEST. THANK YOU! im touched you trust me with your request! im so sorry it took me so long to finish it; i hope you're able to find this on ur timeline :c and plz don't apologize! thank you for sending in this ask 🥰

bts masterlist | main masterlist

“Cute little ass all red from my hand,” Jimin observes with a smirk you can’t see.

You moan in reply, hands clutching the bedsheets below. Another sharp slap rings in the room when he hits your ass again. It’s sore from his constant spanking, but you strangely love the pain.

Jimin soothes the area with his warm hand briefly before connecting it to your other cheek—repeating the soothing process.

“Feels good, kitten? You like having my handprint on your ass?” he questions.

You nod, keeping your head pressing into the mattress.

“I want to hear your words,” Jimin tsks and grabs a fistful of your hair to lift your face up.

Your back arches, and it causes Jimin’s cock to slip slightly deeper into your dripping pussy.

“Yes!” you cry. “Love when you spank me.”

Jimin pulls your head back a little just to mess with you and then he lets you go and watches as you collapse on the mattress.

Six more slaps are given to your red ass, harsh and quick in succession. You’re making noises that are between a whimper and a moan. Each spank has you tightening your hold on the sheets, as well as clenching around Jimin’s hard length inside you.

The feeling of your tight walls makes Jimin moan and quickly pick up where he had left off before he paused to spank you.

Your body jerks back and forth as Jimin slams into you from behind. His skin collides with yours roughly.

“Gonna be my good little kitten and come around my cock again?” Jimin asks.

“Fuck, yes,” you gasp out, reaching a hand down to circle your clit rapidly.

Jimin continues his quick pace until you’re withering on the bed, crying out his name while your body shakes.

“So good for me,” Jimin grunts as he presses his weight into you, his own moans mixing with yours as he releases into the condom. He stays like that for a while before slipping from you and removing the ruined condom. He ties and tosses it in the trash bin, then falls back onto the mattress next to you.

You both lay breathing heavily, not needing to say anything for now.

After Jimin has regained some of his strength, he starts climbing off the bed. It’s not unusual for him to help you to the bathroom, but it is unusual for him to join you as you wash up.

You stand on tired legs under the warm water; Jimin stands beside you and gives you a small smile.

“What are you doing?” you ask tiredly.

“Helping you,” he says while squeezing some shampoo into his palms. He brings the product to your hair and begins massaging it in. “You gonna complain?”

You sigh, closing your eyes at the pampering. You would argue, but it’s nice to just relax after an intensive session.

You feel a pang of guilt that even though he did most of the work, he’s still helping you beyond the bedroom.

After rinsing the soap from your hair, you try to return the favor and wash his. Jimin chuckles and moves your hands away.

“Just relax, kitten,” he instructs. “I want to.”

“But you’re probably tired too,” you reply.

He shakes his head. “I feel fine. Now, let’s finish this up. I’m hungry.”

You laugh and nod. After twenty minutes of showering, you’re both snuggled on the couch with ramen in front of you. It’s not the fanciest meal, but it was quick and easy.

Jimin had even helped you dress, which you tried to protest again, but he refused to relent.

“You don’t feel guilty about earlier, right?” you question as he scrolls through the list of movies and shows.

Jimin’s eyes furrow with confusion at your question. He gives you a brief glance.

“Because you went a little rougher than usual,” you explain, recalling how he had pulled your hair harshly as he railed you from behind. The ache between your legs becomes more evident due to the memory.

“Ah, well, a little,” he admits. “But I also just wanna make sure you’re taken care of. The aftercare is just as important as the sex.”

You smile and snuggle against his side more. “I liked it, Jimin. I would’ve used my safe word if I needed a break or if I wanted you to stop.”

Jimin nods as he exhales deeply. “I would hope so.”

You reach up to turn his face to you. “Believe me. I like it when you’re rough.”

Jimin’s lips begin to curl; it’s nothing flirty. He’s genuinely happy to have found someone who enjoys the same kinks. Even if it’s not a permanent situation. You were just a friend who was willing to explore things with him. Someone he could trust. Someone who wouldn’t be so judgmental.

“Good,” he replies. “Now, pick something quick so we can eat before it gets cold.”

You grin and snatch the remote from him. Jimin shakes his head when you select a show you’ve both seen twice. A third time’s a charm.

“What? You said pick.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles halfheartedly.

You grab a bowl of ramen and a pair of chopsticks. Jimin follows your lead, eating his meal as the show begins to run its opening credits.

Normally, Jimin would make sure you’re okay, talk through what happened to ensure he knew what you had liked and didn’t and you’d learn the same about him. He would leave once he thought you were fine. Only rarely did he stay any longer.

Though you had to admit, it was nice hanging out with him without the benefits. Maybe you’ll suggest just hanging out next time with no strings attached. You didn’t want to stop having sex with him, but your time with Jimin has solely been about that. You miss when it was just innocent lazy Sundays.

“You done?” Jimin asks after a while. He’s gesturing to your empty bowl and waiting for your reply.

“Oh, yeah,” you answer and hold it out for him. He takes the dishes and quickly heads to the kitchen to place them in the sink. He rinses the bowls, then comes back, promising to clean them properly before he goes.

When Jimin returns, he wraps his arms around you and guides you both to lie down. He grabs the blanket on the back of the couch and covers you both.

You smile contently as you watch your show in Jimin’s arms. His embrace has always made you feel at ease. You can’t explain it, but he’s one of those people who gives great hugs—and consequently, great cuddles. Something about them just feels so loving.

“You feeling okay?” he asks out of the blue.

“A little sore, but overall, I’m great. What about you?” you wonder and glance back.

Jimin glances at your lips, then your eyes. He doesn’t kiss you unless you’re having sex. Though, right now you wish he’d kiss you anyway.

“I’m great too. Do you mind if I spend the night? I can stay on the couch?”

You turn back to the screen. “You can sleep in the bed. I don’t mind.”

“The couch is fine,” he insists, and you sigh silently.

“Okay,” you yield. It’s just easier.

Three episodes later, you’re still in Jimin’s hold. He’s fallen asleep, soft snores emitting behind you. You’re not strong enough to move him to your bed yourself, and you know he won’t go there willingly. Thus, you stay relaxed on the couch. It won’t be this comfortable soon since there’s not much room, but you don’t care. You rather not be alone.

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[fruitybashir]

it's been 3 minutes since i read the last chapter and i just wanna ask how are our boys doing right now? will they eventually tell kris' parents that they were fake-dating but are together now? was the first officially-in-a-relationship sex good? how long has bojan been in love with kris? did he realize it during their whole friends-with-benefits thing or earlier?

okay okay okay lets get into it

1. how are they doing right now? well timeline wise, currently they are suffering. but right after the end of the fic? doing fantastic. im imagining since its a friday, kris takes another sick day and bojan skips his classes just bc fuck that, and they just went through a lot and finally have each other again and theyre both not willing to let the other out of their sight again for even just a second. kiki has probably noticed kris has not been doing so well lately, so he gladly covers kris' shift. they're gonna just lie in bed a little bit, answer texts from the other guys making sure the others know theyre doing fine, and then they take jans advice and fuck like rabbits.

on saturday they go to band practice together again and maybe just bc kris is a little shit hes gonna go "yeah the song was nice but the guitar could use some improvement" and maybe thats when they start working a third guitar into songs instead of just kris taking over bojans parts? who knows?

2. will they tell kris' parents that theyre fake-dating but together now? i think kris would want to keep that one a secret, mainly bc he knows theyre never gonna let him live it down and maks definitely wont, but he (very begrudgingly) does tell them. and they have a good laugh about it. for all eternity. bc i think miha and chantal are the kind of people who would find that shit hilaaaaaarious and bring it up all the time, they think its very very funny

and they also obv love bojan and are very glad to have him properly in their family now <3

3. was the first in-relarionship sex good? it was the fucking best. they didnt have to hold back anymore and enough "i love you"s were said to fill a book with it and then some. it was incredible.

4. how long has bojan been in love with kris? god i wish i knew. i just write the guy, i dont know what the fuck is going on inside his head. i think hes had a mild crush on kris for a while, over the last few years, not very deep or meaningful, mostly when kris picked up jan or smthn bojan would go "damn hes handsome" but that was the extent of it - also bc he was still struggling with his sexuality then.

i think over the holidate timeline .. hm. i imagine that crush skyrocketed when kris just slammed him against the wall that one night and then proceeded to give him the best head hes ever had lol. and i think he definitely acknowledged it as a crush then and it slowly developed into more. i think he maybe realised he was in love shortly after kris stayed with him when he was sick? the major factors there being that kris didnt just take care of him, but actually cared for him. he didnt just drop off some meds and left, he actually took the time to stay with bojan, took a sick day just to be with him, cooked for him, made sure he ate and drank enough, kept him company, everything. thats already an admission of love if you ask me. (both platonically or romantically) but that really did a number on bojan.

i even think bojan let himself admit that it was love pretty early on, but always had the safety layer of "we're just doing this for fun, so its okay if im in love with him bc the "only" consequence is having my own heart broken lol" but then when kris wrote him dopamin and bojan realised this could all be real, suddenly there were more potential consequences to deal with and well you read the last chapter lol

[weebswrites]

Lucifer's First: Pt 3 (Explicit)

Link to pts 1 & 2 (Mature)

I saw a post saying that there's no way the bros are anywhere near the level of dominance we typically write them as during Nightbringer bc they literally Just fell from the Celestial Realm. Unless you're telling me Michael let them fuck there is no way any of them have done a single act of sin so I will be taking my darling Lucifer and, well, you'll have to keep reading to find out ;)

If there was one thing you and Lucifer had mastered in the weeks since your first kiss (well, first kiss since you'd been sent back in time), it was making out.

You'd fallen back into a routine similar to what you had in your timeline, but instead of waking up in Lucifer's bed most mornings, you woke up in your own.

But that didn't stop you from entering his office each night to bring him tea, which more times than not ended up with you on his lap, his hands slowly exploring your chest while you'd softly grind against him.

He was hesitant at first, casual intimacy being completely foreign to him, but he couldn't deny his desire for you. You'd spent many nights together talking about what your relationship meant, and didn't mean, and answering any other questions Lucifer had.

So now, here you were. Walking to his office, tea in hand, and your favorite shirt on. Well, it was your favorite of Lucifer's favorites. You recalled the first night you wore it to see him, and the way his eyes roamed the way it hugged your body in all the right spots.

"MC..." he had whispered, unable to say more. But you knew what he meant when he stood from his chair, walking you to the couch and instantly bringing you on his lap. The way his hands felt over the fabric, and then under it, there was no mistaking Lucifer had a favorite.

But it'd been a while since you'd given him more than a peck while he continued to work through the night, which confused you, given the way his eyes seemed to beg you to stay while his words told you he was too busy.

Tonight, you were going to get to the bottom of it. You knocked on his door a few times before hearing his voice grant you entry.

He looked up and was visibly relieved to see you, even standing to give you a hug as you walked towards him.

"MC, I missed you" he sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his head against yours.

"I've missed you too" you replied, arms holding him tightly against you. You didn't know if this was caused by your shirt, or whether he'd really been missing you extra today, but you took it either way.

After longer than you'd expected, he pulled away, picking up the tea you'd chosen for the evening.

"Ah, good choice. I've heard this is one of Diavolo's favorites" he commented, walking to boil the water.

"Thanks" you leaned against his desk, "I was hoping you'd like it"

Once the kettle, a gift you'd given him almost immediately after discovering his affection for tea, was doing its thing, Lucifer walked back to where you were standing.

He put his hands on your waist, and looked into your eyes gently.

"I know it's been a while since we've had time like this, and I'm sorry. I hope tonight we can pick up where we left off" the corner of his mouth smirked upwards, indicating exactly what he meant.

You leaned up and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you did so.

"I would love that" you responded against his lips, and he smiled against you before his hands scooped you up, your legs going around his waist as the two of you blushed and laughed as he walked you to the couch.

He turned and sat down, your legs moving to straddle his as he lowered. You cupped his face in your hands, "I'm so glad to be here" you smiled innocently, fielding the much less innocent feelings you had as well.

"I'm glad you are, too" Lucifer put a hand on your thigh before bringing your lips to his, kissing you with a passion you'd only felt in your original timeline.

It sparked something in you, and you could hardly tell it wasn't your Lucifer with your eyes closed. Your chest seared with longing, which you aided with a hand in his hair and your tongue running along his lower lip. It'd been so long since you'd kissed this Lucifer, too, you wanted to be completely wrapped in his being.

But you were reminded of this Lucifer's newness to intimacy when he whimpered at your tongue grazing his mouth, and fully moaned as your tongue guided his in a hungry dance for more.

You couldn't help but moan, too, and quicker than usual you slid down against him and began to move your hips.

This was as far as the two of you had ever gotten, so you tried to mediate the speed at which you moved against him, not wanting your fun to end too fast.

Just as you picked up the pace a bit more, Lucifer pulled away, face covered in the blush you knew only you could bring out.

"MC, can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course," you moved to sit next to him, but he stopped you, keeping you close on his lap.

You looked confused, which he started to answer before you had to ask.

"I want, well, I'll start with saying I'm sorry for being distant this past week. I've been thinking a lot about something and didn't want to bring it up before I was ready"

You nodded, giving him space to continue.

"And," he paused for a second, "I want more. To do more, with you. I want to do more with you" he stammered out.

His face was dark red, and he fought wanting to hide it in your shoulder. You didn't want to leave him in limbo, so you quickly said "Yes, yes we can do that. Whatever you want"

"I guess I don't know what comes next. If it's sex, I might want to wait a little longer, but if there's something else we can do before that then I would like to try"

You knew getting to teach Lucifer about intimacy like this would be an experience, given the Lucifer you knew was so dominant and confident in the bedroom, but hearing him ask for your help like this still caught you by surprise.

"We don't have to have sex yet. Or ever, but there are things we can do before that, like you said"

Now it was his turn to nod, awaiting you to continue.

"Well," you scooted back about a foot and moved your hand to his erection. You held your hand above a few inches, and looked in his eyes, "Would this be okay?"

His breath had caught the moment your hand moved towards him, but he released it in a sensual sigh the moment your fingers lowered and rested on his pants.

Once he nodded to continue, you began massaging him through the fabric of his pants. Your other hand found the back of his head, and played with his hair in the way you knew he adored.

His head fell back, and you tried to control your own desire as he completely relaxed for you, hand tightening on your thigh from time to time as you continued.

After a few minutes, you moved your hands to his belt, and began slowly undoing it. He watched, breath again caught in his throat as his mind processed what was going to happen next.

"MC, I've never," he started to talk, halting your movement on his belt immediately in case he was having second thoughts. "No, it's okay, keep going," he told you to continue, and as you did he continued, "No one has ever seen me, like this, before"

You stopped before undoing his zipper, trying to find the right thing to say. You wanted to tell him that you loved him no matter what, but you hadn't come close to exchanging those words in this timeline yet, and your mind raced to come up with an equilivant.

"Whatever you're comfortable with, Lucifer, is what we'll do. I promise no matter what, I'll still care for you. That will never change"

He nodded, looking down to where your hand had paused, "Okay," he said once, before repeating it again while looking up into your eyes. "Just don't make fun of me"

Those words left his mouth at the same time you pulled him free from his underwear, more precum than you were expecting falling down his cock.

"Oh, Lucifer" you held him in your hand, fighting the thought of taking him in your mouth and bringing him over the edge in seconds, "You're nothing to make fun of"

You rolled your palm over the head before sliding down his shaft, using his precum to make it easier. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as you began to stroke him.

"I want to hear you" you said to him, and gestured with his head to move his hand.

As soon as he moved his hand, you went a bit faster, rewarding him. And you were equally rewarded as the most blissful sound you'd ever heard left his lips. "Good" you whispered, your free hand now playing with the hair that had fallen across his face.

After a while you felt his cock twitch in your hand, a sign you knew meant he was close, so you moved your hand a bit faster against his hips, which had started to jut against your hand.

You saw the moment he realized what was about to happen, as his eyes flew open.

"Relax, Lucifer" you leaned over him and whispered in his ear, "Trust me"

You knew there were tissues within reaching distance, and when his eyes fell closed again, you reached over and grabbed a few.

It took him a bit, but you felt his cock twitching in your palm again quickly, and laid the tissues on his lower chest where you were familiar with his orgasms landing. Not that his cum was often anywhere but deep inside you in your timeline, but you remembered the days when you'd give your Lucifer hand or blowjobs to help lower his stress while he was working. You loved it just as much as he did, so finally getting to give Lucifer affection in this way was a comfort to you as much as a turn on.

Your hand then moved to his hair, fingers running through its softness for a moment before pulling, the feeling you knew he loved combined with the magic you were working lower sending his orgasm rupturing through him.

He cried your name as it hit him, and he leaned into your body, head resting against your shoulder as you felt his cock pulse as cum released from it. You hoped the tissues were still in the right place, but the thought quickly was replaced when Lucifer looked up from your shoulder and into your eyes.

"MC," he was silent for a moment before a lighthearted exhale left his mouth, "wow"

You smiled, "Was that okay?"

"Definitely" he responded, face red and forehead adorned with a few drops of sweat as he noticed the tissues that had perfectly done their job.

He quickly gathered them into a ball and moved them to the side of the couch where you weren't sitting, not wanting attention drawn to them. You read this, saying something else to slightly change the subject.

"So, you think you'll be able to get some work done now?" you teased, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

"I should, but I'd rather just lay here with you"

"That can be arranged" you waited for him to finish zipping his pants back up before scooting close to him again, and leaning against him. Your head fit perfectly in the crook of his shoulder, and he leaned his head against yours.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as you both shifted a bit to get comfortable.

Lucifer's mind was relaxed, until he was thinking of what to say and three words he knew it was too soon to be thinking crossed his mind. He was glad you'd started to doze against him, your chest rising and falling slowly, so you didn't hear as he tested out saying the words that had slipped across his mind to you.

"I love you"

His voice was soft, so soft even he could hardly hear it, but he knew the words were true when his heart felt like it was exploding in his chest as he said them.

But he didn't think there was any way in Devildom you'd feel that way too, so he sighed and smiled to himself, wrapping his arms tighter around you as he, too, fell asleep.

--

A/N: Okay I know the tea kettle is a plot hole but I like it so it'll come back later but know that basically they get woken up in like 10 mins when it starts yelling at them.

[barnesafterglow]

yes, you heard that right, i'm fucking back. and i'm going to make it everyone's problem.

in all seriousness, i know i've been gone for quite some time now, even before my "official" leaving, but life has changed pretty drastically since then. i've got a new job i love, i'm planning a wedding, and overall i'm just in a much better place than i was before. hopefully, that means you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future

so to welcome myself back (and assure myself that i do in fact deserve attention) i've decided to host a little sleepover. this bitch is gonna last from today until whenever i stop getting asks tbh bc timelines are for losers and posers.

- classic sleepover games such as: fmk (don't y'all do me dirty), top 5, would you rather, etc etc

- moodboards: send me a character + vibe/song/etc and i'll make a lil somethin

- drabbles/headcanons: send me a request and i'll whip up a couple hundred words of pure goodness (re: insanity)

- recs: rec me songs, books, fics, etc, or ask me for my own!

- ask me about any of my current wips (caution: there at least 100 of them). alternatively, send me a number 1-78 and i'll tell you about my unhinged fic ideas that are not yet written

- cupid shuffle: i'll give you song recs from my everyday playlist

- love letters: mutuals only. i will wax poetic about my deep rooted love for each and every one of you

- give me any of your hottest takes or unpopular opinions, or ask about mine!

- ask me anything from my writing process, what i've been reading lately, or just any questions about me in general (bc i am very interesting and cool)

tagging some mutuals bc i have missed y'all

@demxters @itistimeforusalltodecidewhoweare @sweetdreamsbuck @petal-veined @scrumptious-delusion @treatbuckywkisses @smokeinherperfume @imaginearyparties @inklore @lilacletter @abovethesmokestacks @bucky-barmes @jen-with-a-pen @thornsnvultures @navybrat817 @fandoms-writings @writing-for-marvel @aphrogeneias

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

So since I predicted that Sloane and Luther would get together from the day she was announced as well as a couple of scenes- I feel obligated to share w y'all my batshit crazy idea of what I thought might happen in season 4 and like now that we have TWO trailers why I think it might happen. In other words-

Me being delulu about tua s4 and y'all gotta deal w it

So my initial thought was that in this new timeline they are themselves slotted into lives they don't initially remember, that the longer they dwell in the timeline the more they remember and some come to accept. Up until the inevitable happens and the world is at risk again for whatever reason. However, saving the world means giving up these perfect lives for accepting their shitty dysfunctional reality to save each other. Because the more they stay and accept the more they lose of previous timelines.

I was gonna write a fanfic but then my resident evil obsession started and if y'all have read any of my fanfic y'all know my history with long-fics.

Why do I now think this could actually be the case you ask?

At the end of season 3 Luther takes off after our girl Sloane with Klaus following but everyone else is just so calm. Soooo which leads us to

Trailer 1

Viktor might own or work in a bar. Which the fact that he seems to be somewhat settled for sure tells us that some time has possibly passed between season 3 and 4

The sign says "home for wayward boys" implying that Allison may not have been in the group and maybe neither Viktor before the transition. I'm also wondering if now that his wife is back maybe in this new timeline they both fostered/adopted our main characters.

Oh yeah did I mention Reginald's moon wife is alive? His whole thing with the children was his alien (literally) way to save her. Now she's alive.

Allison is with claire so she also possibly has her life back.

Ben is getting out of jail and like it could be a "time has passed between seasons" thing or something happens in one of the episodes where he winds up locked up.

Diego is at a kid's party and either has his own kid or a niece or something. it's not claire and the family behind him is not his umbrella fam.

MY BOY IS SO SMALL ITS GONNA BE SO WEIRD SEEING HIM "NORMAL" THIS SEASON also he looks kinda sad. trailer two debunks what I initially thought of his reveal in this trailer because I thought oh haha what if it's a Halloween costume but like we'll get to my season 2 crazies hang in there.

Klaus is upside down in an interior (proven by the radiator) so he is either stuck, meditating, in a trance, or it's Sloane holding him there. I also kinda wonder if he's going through a clean streak or something OCD like with his addictions from the whole blue gloves thing. tbh i saw those in the promo and thought it was blue screen and his hands were gonna be effed up lol.

ben shouts "lets go kill this bitch" and allison corrects "this is a rescue mission" sooooooo is reginal and or his wife the bitch in question? and like sloane is the only one missing from our group so maybe she's the one being rescued? or maybe one of the new characters (like gene and jean).

which brings me to a theory I'll get to after my trailer break down and before the second breakdown.

side bar but the xmen stile jet is great lol

the subway is 100% a metaphor for the timelines AND that house diego and luther are at is the one from season two where they see reggie and grace at that party

the mind thingies in the blue room are so fucked up and i cant tell if thats sloane or wife hargreeves or a grace return in the bg but im wondering if it connects them to other timelines? Im wondering if the woman is sloane bc abigail has such curly hair but it does remind me of grace so idk.

upside down umbrella is insane okay

starting to think the jet might be flashbacks

A SPACE SUIT HAND REACHES INTO A RED FORCE SOMETHING FOR ANOTHER HAND AND SLOANE MAYBE????

fuck organization if you have read this far welcome to my brain- anyway- theory is that her place got swapped for abigail hargreeves' on the moon and now our beloved moon boy has to save her from that place. so symbolic.

now i was half put down a few shots later when we see victor emit a similar color power later but trailer 2 kinda backs some stuff up.

so trailer 2

opens with ben alone and confused and vicktor calls ben at the phone booth leading me to 100% believe they have split up again and have to find each other. very nostalgic of season 1 and 2

"there's something happening to you and it's only gonna get worse" so this is either about just ben OR its about all of them. either way ben did look confused so his eldritch horrors are either hulking out or he's losing memory chunks like my theory suggests. but it might revolve around ben bc vicktor specifically says "you" in the next time about the world ending.

(wondering if luther nervous farted in the car lmao)

Gene and Jean are possibly conspiracy theorists or agents posing as them but its interesting they are bringing attention to the altered timelines.

okay yeah world ending revolves around ben im tired okay and not proofing this you're stuck with my ramblings

the white violin is for sure abi hargreeves no doubt it doesn't look like sloane and plus the violin viktor got was bc reggie gave it to him that he got from his wife before she died okay. fanfic rn where viktor is the chosen child fanfic rn where abi loves all the kids fanfic rn where shes alive but shes just as much of a dick and we could have an epic trans story for viktor and expectations and yeah anyway-

whoever said it was jenny in trailer two i wanna kiss u on the lips ur prolly right and i love you for it

"ben died because we failed as a team" "and-" "and what" FOLLOWED BY LUTHERS CONFUSED FACE LEADS ME TO ONE OF TWO THINGS AND YOU ALREADY KNOW ONE OF THEM memory loss my beloved or something shocking occurs to him or like he seems something idk

more blue room stuff and uh maybe its not mind stuff maybe its power stimulation like what if they dont have their powers but ben does idk.

who TF is klaus digging up

OH GUYS NO I THINK LUTHER IS A MALE DANCER THATS WHAT THE SPACE SUIT IS IDK WTF IS THIS SHOW I LOVE IT

anyway they keep showing that one scene and like idk im delulu about sloane im so tired and i am not ready for this show to end in 8 days im sobbing y'all

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

Hello, I was wondering if you have any prongsfoot fic recommendations?

I’m pretty new to the ship (and fan fiction) and it appears to overrun with literally ever other ship. So I hope you don’t mind my asking.

I appreciate any help you willing to give me.

💜💜💜

Hi hayati <3333 yes ofc with pleasure. fair warning: my taste in fic (and especially prongsfoot) is sometimes very questionable so check the tags before reading anything.

Pioneers (134k, complete) is like. one of the most popular legendary longfics in the fandom. if toxic/unhealthy codependent dynamics is your thing, it's a must-read. the atyd of j/s except its actually good

On Fire, But We Can't Feel A Thing (100k, 20/?) by @benjamin-ovich is my most re-read fic ever, i am obsessed with it. also a little unhealthy but they're trying lol. amnesia, getting back together, lots of pain for the soul, can not recommend this one enough, seriously. (make sure to subscribe bc i was promised that more fucked up prongsfoot is coming our way)

the ghost of you, it keeps me awake (50k, 12/?) by @gracelesslady23 is a james comes back au set during ootp that I really really love, it tackles all the important issues in this timeline.

Em also has another new wip called you'll see me in hindsight which is an age gap fic where Sirius accidentally time jumps 22 years forward when he is 18. and it's just. soul crushing and drool inducing all at once. mwah.

Anything at all by @padfootastic on the blog or AO3 because I'm obsessed with the way Pen writes them. Some personal favs of mine are i fall to pieces, we should be lovers instead, this unholy smut drabble that's still stuck in my head.

KaiSkitty (@roalinda) has a lot of great works, including the on-going Heaven fic, which is an age-gap, james-comes-back au with a really great premise and amazing worldbuilding.

@siriuslystarbucks's AO3 is an absolute goldmine for anything Prongsfoot, whatever you might want. I aspire to reach this level of dedication one day. The most recent one I've read is Just Come Home, with a s/omc toxic relationship and pining James and a happy ending.

@mycupofrum also posts amazing prongsfoot both here and on AO3. check out Bathe with me for some hot prefect bathroom smut.

@prongsfoot-microfic is an on-going event of daily j/s microfics.

And if I may humbly suggest :)) my own AO3 works as well. My most popular one is Benefits and my most fucked up favourite one is little do you know. + i have lots of things in progress for this month, so [pewdiepie voice] like and subscribe for more.

[iaus]

bc i saw u mention cgu in the darling one (which i think is so funny. yessss cinnamon girl universe let’s get into it) but ⭐️ for hold me <33

i will never not be giggling over cgu. while also feeling a little guilty for jace in that universe eheh. but okay the way i know already what i wanna talk about.

so. fun fact about me i've cut back on them recently but i used to use A LOT of parenthetical sections in my writing. i've cut back on them recently because i got self conscious of how wordy i was but. i indulged myself in hold me.

let's look at those.

so. as it was an ask fic, i did feel the need to speed up the timeline of hold me. like. i don't think porter would have been adverse to starting being physical with jace right off the back, but i think even 26 yr old jace would have some anxiety about appearing professional and as we know i have to justify everything in my writing to myself.

even the porn.

but right before our parenthetical sections (which are a way for us to see how jace reacts to getting less professional with porter and a little peek into how porter eggs him on) we do learn a little about porter.

Porter Cliffbreaker is recently forty-nine years old, owns a family house in Tillering, and has a bad habit of patronizing Jace so much that he swears he’s flirting.

i'm not gonna lie i really like this line just in general. i wanted to give a concrete number to their ages and these little details jace knows about porter. he doesn't know much, but it's enough to give us an idea of well. yea he's probably a creep. (fun (?) fact, i was doing the math for porter's family and jace in this universe is about the same age as porter's youngest sibling.)

now. for this section i couldn't really help myself so i set up a little pattern we start:

It took about a week for Cliffbreaker to turn into Porter.

porter and jace start moving away from professional pretty quick. this, though, is pretty normal. i had a few coworkers that i never called by their first name, but even with my mentor it took like a month for me to open up and call them by their first name. so it's a sign that they're at least "close."

but then we have jace's reaction:

(He hooked up with a goliath about Porter’s height the weekend after Porter had smiled at him, told him, unthinking, good boy—then he’d almost moaned the wrong name. Then there was the barbarian he met at an adventuring bar in Bastion City. He’d asked for him to fuck him on all fours, for him to tell him he was proud of him—that he was doing so well. He had moaned Porter’s name that night. His date hadn’t seemed to notice. Or care.)

porter gives this permission to use his first name and jace... goes and finds men that remind him of porter. he immediately takes calling porter by his first name into his fantasies and hookups. he's in deep already. we're also establishing jace's pattern. he likes older men. married men. men who are more occupied with getting off than anything about what jace is experiencing... already we're seeing how this is going to go.

Two weeks for Jace to say, a little nervously, that he thought meeting three times a week might be better. I need some help with management strategies, he’d simpered, eyes wide and lip trembling a little. The freshmen are difficult.

now. you see, with my induction at least you were really supposed to meet every day. i didn't so i put it into the structure of this. but here's jace two weeks into the school year deciding. no i need more time with porter. so he goes and bats his eyelashes and lies a little bit. also going from one meeting a week to three in a five day work week? i think he's crazy for that.

porter doesn't mind though. how kind.

(Porter had been indulgent, rolled his eyes, and said he could make it work. They had sat pressed together awkwardly in Porter’s office as they went over the data Jace had collected from his Common classes, went over different ways to get student’s attention—what strategies was he using to address disruptive behavior. Then Jace had bitched about how he’d denied a position at Mumple to avoid Common and working with freshmen. Porter had laughed, clapped his hand against Jace’s shoulder and said, I know you’ll make it work, you’re a smart kid. Jace had jerked off in the shower imagining Porter’s laugh pressed to his neck. Imagined the heavy clap of Porter’s hand on his thigh.)

and as is my usual motive... porter does a lot of touching. even in this universe he is getting into jace's space. putting them in his office which requires them to press in close. and then already adding some casual touch and starting with some "safe" nicknames. kid's neutral, right?

jace is soaking that up. and let's be real. porter's noticing that.

Then, a month in, they were having their meetings outside Aguefort.

now this. here's the first official red flag. i never met my mentor outside of our site. my coworker i started with had to meet their mentor outside of our site only because they went to different schools. and even then they did professional zoom calls.

not jace and porter. they go for coffee.

(Porter hadn’t been looking at him when they got coffee in a new bistro not far from Strongtower Luxury Apartments. He’d been focused instead on the notes Jace had from when he spent his prep period observing Tiberia. Jace had felt a little stupid, sitting there in his tight jeans and polyester blend shirt that almost looked like silk. He’d sipped his drink in silence as Porter made his own notes. Asked Jace questions on what he thought of Tiberia’s pedagogy, her engagement of students. He’d sulked on the way home, thinking he was a particular kind of stupid. He’d still texted later and asked if they could have another meeting the next day—after he observed Badgood. Porter had texted back, hours later, saying that sounded fine—did he have a date? Was that why he had been dressed so nice for their meeting? It fell through, Jace texted back—face flushed and heart hammering loud in his throat. Porter didn’t text back until midnight, He missed out then.)

they go to a bistro! they get their drinks. jace dresses up!

but porter is so professional. he doesn't comment on jace's clothes, he focuses on being jace's mentor. and jace is of course disappointed. yea it's what he needs, porter's doing his job. but. he dressed up. like he was going on a date. he gets his feelings hurt.

but then. later. after he goes home. when the "mentoring" is done, porter texts him.

did he have a date? was that why he was dressed so nice?

and just with that porter validates jace. porter noticed him. not in a professional way. in a way jace has been seeking.

and then... at midnight. late. way beyond the "professional" hours.

he missed out then.

makes you wonder what porter was doing that late. thinking about jace in his tight jeans.

and then we get that scene with goldenhoard.

“It’s good you have an attentive mentor."

(to say the least)

“You’re not the first person he’s mentored,” Goldenhoard says. He signs the page requiring an admin signature, slides that back to Jace as well. “His pedagogy… gets some complaints from parents. But his mentees are usually… satisfied.” Jace can feel his ears go red. He wonders, briefly, if he’s the first Porter has taken an interest in.

this is probably the most concerned jace has been about this whole thing. and it's not even anything about being worried about being professional. this is jace being jealous. he wants to be the first porter's done this deeply unprofessional unethical thing with. because he has to be special.

and this is something that never got mentioned because we never saw porter's pov but. this bright-eyed naive jace does have epilogue jace's past.

so he has his spell thief ability.

and porter knows about it from the get go. (it's why he volunteered.)

He’d been hired during his interview with Arthur Aguefort—with a hand-wave and an understanding laugh that his mentor could help him with the paperwork related to the… problems that had followed him out of college.

so, while it's not mentioned... the funny thing is that i personally do see this as the first time porter's taken an interest in a mentee like this.

porter in this universe wants jace's magic more than he wants jace.

it's just an added bonus that he clocked jace's interest in him. makes things a lot easier.

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Reborn Again (and again and again)

(Sanzu's bday fic with tones of angst)

(Bonten HaruMai)

It's been a while since I posted my fics here bc no spoons kept my away of tumblr ( I'm gonna try to post all of them and they are always on ao3!)

But.... Sanzu Haruchiyo birthday seems like the perfect occasion for this!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LIL PINK GREMLIN, I LOVE YOU DEARLY AND YOU DESERVE THE WORLD! (but I'm gonna give you angst and a lap full of Mikey, oopsie?)

(link to ao3 in case someone wants to read it there)

Summary: Sanzu remembers his last birthday, bittersweet memories that keep his delusions afloat.

And of course, he'll never lose his faith in his king.

(even when Mikey's eyes are completely devoid of all emotion)

Warnings: Manga Spoilers (Bonten timeline, so yeah), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Suicide, Mental Health Issues (issues is an understatement xD), Toxic Codependent Relationship, Heavily Depressed Mikey, Burn Out Sanzu, Unrequited Delusional Love, and idk, is Bonten they are so totally not fine and it shows, okay?

Yeah, this fic is an emotional roller coaster, it felt like it writing it and is not less of it as a reader (or I've been told that). Oh, Sanzu is sad and horny bc you can't tell me Bonten Mikey has energy to fuck (or live)

There is a part of the fic inspired on this art, bc Mikey sleeping on Haru's lap is for some reason precious to me 💜

Sanzu was bored, his feet kept tapping the ground, his mind drifting far away from here. He should be paying attention to his surroundings, guarding the building where his king was. 

Instead, he was lost in the memories of his last birthday, almost one year ago. Wondering if it would be different this time, if Mikey remembered his promise. He shook his head, immediately feeling guilty for daring to doubt it. Of course he did, Sanzu was only feeling insecure, nothing new. 

(He had to repeat it as many times as necessary, to convince himself that Mikey’s eyes had not been completely devoid of all emotion for more than a month)

To be fair, the fact that Hangaki didn’t represent any type of threat to his king, wasn’t helping him focus on the present or to keep his thoughts from wandering back to the previous year.

Sanzu was having a shitty day. That wasn’t exactly unusual lately, he had become more and more tired during the last years few months. Exhausted would be the right word, but he couldn’t afford to rest, to even entertain the possibility that he should delegate some of his responsibilities to others if he didn’t want to end up completely burned out. But of course, he couldn't trust anyone else to perform his duties, so Sanzu was forced to continue stretching himself thin.

(If he was more honest with himself, he could admit that he had been falling apart for way too long. But he wasn’t, he couldn’t)

Whatever. He was used to it. He’s handled this weariness before — today wasn’t unique. He was a grown ass man, who definitely wouldn’t throw a tantrum just because everyone forgot it was his birthday. And twenty-seven wasn’t a memorable number either, so who cared? 

This was just Sanzu being salty, tonight's job took up more time than he anticipated, so he had to see Takeomi’s ugly face for way too long. Yeah, it was totally unrelated to the pang of jealousy he felt when he overheard the older man explaining to Kakucho how this week was special, since the anniversary of Senju’s death was close. He wasn’t that pathetic, to hold a grudge because, even now, his sister kept hogging all the attention.

(What sister? Sanzu was an only child, his own mind was playing tricks to him again)

He sighed, using his own set of keys to open the door of Mikey’s penthouse and trying to be as silent as possible. He was fully aware his king wouldn’t be sleeping — it was getting harder each day to convince him to even try it.

It was better to be quiet anyway, at least, until he had a clue of which mood he was going to find. Would it be one of those days of empty glares and cold words, where he was only ‘Sanzu’? Or…

“Haruchiyo?”

A weak whisper, but more than enough for him to quickly locate the source. Mikey was sitting on the sofa, completely in the dark except for the dim light that came through the window, proving the outside world was still there, uncaring and merciless. 

“Hey… I’m back.”

His heart sank when he got closer, finally noticing Mikey’s puffy eyes and his tear-streaked cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to comfort him, caress his beautiful face and erase any trace of pain in it. But he knew better. Years of walking on broken glass around his lover taught him better.

(Was ‘lover’ the right word? When he had to repress his own feelings, pretending there was no love in order to stay by Mikey’s side? Probably not)

“What’s wrong?” 

He asked cautiously, sitting on the nearest armchair. Mikey blinked a couple of times, looking at him in awe, almost like he was processing that Sanzu was really here.

“I thought you wouldn’t come tonight.” 

There was no point in reminding him that he could just text or call —that no matter what he was doing, Sanzu would leave it in a heartbeat to run to his king's side. Mikey was fully aware of it, but he refused to show this type of weakness.

“I’ll always come back to you, Mikey.”

He gave him a soft smile, hoping it was somehow reassuring. It seemed to work, considering the next moment he had a lap full of Mikey, wrapping his arms around Haruchiyo’s neck and hiding his face in it. He didn’t have to think twice before hugging him back and gently pulling the thin body closer.

“I’m sorry, the deal took longer than I thought.” 

A noncommittal hum was the only answer he received,  another sign that Mikey cared less every day about his own organization. It was fine, Sanzu could keep the gears turning and perfectly greased, waiting until his king was ready to step back in the game and take what was rightfully his. 

“But I’m here now, I’m right here…” 

His voice dripped with affection, his touch conveying the same feeling as he started to play with the white locks. The soft caresses spoke louder than the words he’ll never say. It was fine — he was good at hiding parts of himself, burying it with all his secrets.

(So many secrets, weighing him more every day, slowly drowning him until he couldn’t recognize his own reflection)

“You are.” Mikey finally lifted his head, looking at him like he was trying to figure out something. “Even if this morning…”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” 

It was a lie, they both knew it. Of course he remembered how detached his king had been, how disgusted he looked by his weak attempt at cuddling. The cold voice, clearly commanding him to disappear from his sight. ‘Don’t you have work to do, Sanzu?’

It was a lie, one of the many he carefully crafted for Mikey’s sake. There was no need to dwell on it when Sanzu wanted to comfort him, not burden him with guilt. Especially when the cause was his own inability to hide his stupid hopes and desires. 

“Apparently about nothing.”

“Yep, nothing at all.” He repeated, softly brushing a strand of hair out of Mikey’s eyes and kissing his forehead, earning a simper in return.

Wait, what? A smile? A coy one, small and probably easy to miss for anyone else. But not for him, Sanzu was able to spot the most subtle change in his king’s expression, and this wasn’t subtle. A genuine smile on Mikey’s face? And thanks to him? 

Sanzu’s inner turmoil disappeared. The fatigue that he constantly carried with him was gone too. Just like that, a simple gesture from his king, made everything better, all the problems more than worth it as long as it meant protecting these rare moments of happiness.

(A necessary reminder of why he kept fighting, always so restless, refusing to let go, reinventing himself over and over)

He leaned in to cross the small distance between their lips, kissing him slowly, wanting to savor the moment. There was no rush for once, and even if he longed for more, even if his body reacted to the closeness and the familiar taste, he knew too damn well Mikey’s libido had been practically nonexistent lately. 

No matter how much he yearned to go further, he’d take whatever his king offered to him without presumptions. For now, Sanzu was content with the way Mikey’s lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore freely. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning inside the kiss, realizing he sounded too desperate. 

Damn it, when was the last time they actually had sex? He couldn’t recall when it was, but he could clearly see the memories – the way Mikey whimpered in his ear, his body pressed against the shower wall… 

Fuck, he had to calm down before his own neediness tarnished this moment doing something stupid — Like pressing Mikey’s warm body down onto his growing erection, bucking his hips slightly, rubbing himself just enough to feel the friction against that tight ass he adored so much… Stop it, brain!

“Sorry…”

Sanzu pulled away from the kiss with a flustered face, looking at Mikey with glossy eyes and pressing their foreheads together, still catching his breath. 

“Why are you apologizing, Haruchiyo?” There was a sad undertone in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. “It’s me, I can’t even give you that, you should…” 

“Don’t go there.” He gently placed a finger in front of the other’s lips. “I don’t need it, okay? I can live perfectly fine without fucking.”

“But you want it.” Mikey deadpanned. 

“Of course I do, because you’re gorgeous and I can’t help feeling attracted to you.” He gave him a soft peck. “And that’s on me, you don’t owe me anything, alright? Having you in my arms like this is already the best birthday gift I could ever wish for.”

“What?!” 

“Nothing.” It was too late — he knew as soon as he saw Mikey’s eyes widening in a mix of surprise and clarity.

“Fuck, it’s July… That’s not nothing!” He groaned in frustration. “Did you get to celebrate it at least?” 

Judging by the way Mikey looked at him, the answer to this was probably written in his face. That was the exact reason why he didn’t tell him, to absolve him of the guilt, to prevent him from falling deeper into self-loathing. 

“It’s okay, we can still celebrate it together if you want-”

“It's not even your birthday anymore.” 

His rage was icy cold, Sanzu was sure the temperature of the whole room dropped a few degrees. Suddenly he was freezing, despite the anger not being directed at him for once. 

“Then we don’t? It’s not a big deal, really, there will be other occasions. It happens every year, right?” His gaze stared at him with disbelief. “What? I’m serious, I don’t need some fancy ass shit, this is already perfect.”

“Haruchiyo…” Whatever his king wanted to say, the way Sanzu hugged him tighter seemed to change his mind. Instead, he sighed, burying his face on the crook of his neck. “Fine. Next year?”

“Next year it is.” 

He started to stroke his hair once again, wanting to leave this conversation behind. It was true, his day got infinitely better the moment Mikey sat on his lap and hugged him. Sanzu couldn’t ask for more, because there was nothing but him.

“I won’t forget it, I promise.” 

Sanzu gasped at the honesty in those words, a lump in his throat that threatened to make him cry, touched by his king making a promise to him. It wasn’t going to happen, he couldn’t put his own burden on Mikey, it was his to bear alone. 

(Alone and isolated inside of his own mind)

“I know you won’t Mikey, I believe in you.” 

He whispered with raw devotion. He will never lose his faith in Mikey, because as long as his king kept breathing… Everything was possible. 

Sanzu smiled softly, melting slightly with the memory of how Mikey ended falling asleep on his lap, of how he made sure to stay still, to not interrupt the other’s dreams. If he closed his eyes, he could see how perfect Mikey looked when he woke up hours later, well rested for once. The way his face lit up when he saw that Sanzu was still there, hugging him for hours and making sure he was comfortable. He could even feel the lingering sensation of his lips on his own… Damn it, how could he miss Mikey so much when they were almost living together?

(It was due to Mikey fading in front of him, disappearing somewhere out of his reach. No, he couldn’t admit that)

He sighed, frustrated with himself. He was doing it again, yearning instead of being grateful for what he was given. 

A sudden change in the white noise from nearby pedestrians forced him to snap out of his inner turmoil. He lifted up his head, scanning the surroundings to find the source of the commotion. 

Sanzu’s eyes widened with panic, the world went silent. Except for the echo of his own delusions shattering into thousand pieces, ringing in his ears for a split second that lasted for ages.

“Mikey?!!”