#thanks to the writing peeps for the motivation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chocosvt · 2 months

Text

HER | part two.

✧✎ 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: 22.7k 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.

updates: in terms of a posting schedule, i'm pre sure i'm just gonna post every saturday night ~12am EST (so technically sunday lol). taglist is included in the comment section since tumblr now has limit as to how many peeps are mentioned per post :p

thanks againnnn! 🌟

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

—MAY 12TH.

Wonwoo was sat on his couch with your laptop glowing in front of him, one hand holding up his chin while the other scrolled slowly through your writing. Finally, you’d let him actually glean your work, and he was quite impressed with your natural skill. He supposed the biggest issue was the choppiness—your sentence structures were much like your racing tangents, and in some areas the writing lacked flow and a smooth continuality. But that sort of ability would just develop on its own as long as you were practicing.

For the most part, Wonwoo was leaving behind small notes and highlighting areas that you could revisit at a later time.

“Okay, I’m going to do a handstand.”

However, as Wonwoo had been combing through your work for the past half-hour, that left you with an apparent boredness which somehow translated into an acrobatics session in his living room.

“I’d really prefer you didn’t,” he answered through the fingers covering his mouth, his eyes trained with focus on the document.

“No, no. I used to be so good at them. Watch.”

Wonwoo was in the midst of typing a note when a small, circular embroidered pillow had suddenly struck the laptop, nearly forcing it shut. It was then that Wonwoo looked up with a long sigh, acknowledging the devious, shining smile that sprung to your face.

“Now that I have your attention—”

Wonwoo titled his head, folded his arms, and propped one foot onto the coffee table, somewhat like an exhausted parent who was being heckled by their child to watch the “special trick” they’d just learned. He was internally praying you actually were good at handstands, because that fragile pottery vase and the antique gold clock sitting on the fire mantel had never looked so breakable until now. A cool breeze slivered in through the open window as your arms began raising above your head, and he heard you inhale steadily.

“Go!” You then shouted, either in motivation or impatience aimed at yourself, loud enough to make Wonwoo flinch.

The next moment, you were basically flipped upside down, your socked feet sticking pointedly in the air while your hands stumbled about on the brown rug for a few seconds, attempting to find their place rooted in the fuzz. Wonwoo pursed his lip, impressed.

“See! Told you!”

“I mean, I never said you couldn’t.”

“Are you amazed?”

He watched with a slight bit of nervousness as you walked a few paces forward with your hands, though he kept his calm composure from the couch and dealt you about three dull claps.

“Cirque de Soleil is asking for you, actually.”

To Wonwoo’s utter relief, you collapsed back onto your feet, probably because the blood was gushing to your head and he’d rather not have you faint squarely on the face in his living room. You then sat on your knees for a moment, rubbing slowly at your scalp.

“I’m almost done,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, moving aside the stitched pillow you’d chucked at him earlier and reopening the laptop.

“Don’t let me rush you.”

He chuckled instantly. “You mean to tell me you’re not bored out of your mind? Why else would you be doing cartwheels.”

Finally, you got up from the rug.

“Um, it was a handstand,” you were hasty to correct him, now sinking into the seat beside Wonwoo on the couch with the circle pillow pulled onto your lap. “I could do a cartwheel, though.”

“Yeah, not in this house you’re not.”

“Not in this house you’re not.”

He merely smirked at your attempt to mimic him by employing a cartoonishly deep tone that you found very amusing, made evident by your prideful giggles close to his ear. Just as Wonwoo scrolled to the end of the document to type his last note, you were piqued with curiosity and leaned over his lap, grabbing at the screen to examine how far he’d come during your hour together.

“So, where are you at anyway?”

Wonwoo pressed himself back into the couch, immediately removing his hands from the keyboard. It felt like at the most random, unpredictable times you would swoop in so close to him, and he never quite knew how to react. Most times he would freeze, become stiff and hardly breathing, run his eyes in all different directions around the room because everything seemed easier when he pretended you didn’t exist.

He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“I’m basically done.”

“You are? Okay. Hm… it seems like you made a lotta notes.”

Wonwoo squirmed in his seat as though it were scratching him. You eventually pulled away, but your knee was now resting on the side of his thigh and you were sitting much closer than before—close enough that your shoulder was digging into his and he could sense your full, bright eyes burning a stare at his pink cheek.

“They’re mostly easy fixes…” he mumbled, refusing to look at you, instead scrolling impetuously through the document with jerks of his pointer and middle finger.

“Well, what do you think of it?”

He paused, still staring at the laptop.

“Of what?”

“Wonwoo, my writing, obviously,” you said with a warm laugh and a soft breath that rushed over his neck in such a pleasurable, lightheaded way. “And look at me,” he heard you ask in a lower, more sincere voice, your fingers then ghosting along his tense jaw in a fleeting, sensitive touch as you guided his head gently in your direction, “I just want to know you’re telling the truth.”

He was accustomed to your eyes being filled with sparks and the readiness to pit the most sharp-tongued comment in history, and so Wonwoo was able to relax ever so slightly upon realizing how your gaze had become increasingly mellow, welcoming even.

“Well, you’re obviously good at it,” he managed to answer the question without his voice trembling, “just some pacing issues, mostly. You’ve got a bit of an issue with run-on sentences and closing up a scene. But you plan a lot, which is nice. I mean, you can only get better.”

An earnest smile picked its way across your face, framing your polished teeth and pushing up the apples of your cheeks. Wonwoo had to look away—sometimes it was too much—you were too much, and he refused to let himself drown beneath your intensity that he found purely terrifying. Your knee proceeded to pull from his thigh and you were now dragging your body off the couch, which meant that Wonwoo could safely exhale the breath he was holding. He wondered if you just wanted to hear the compliment, or if you were legitimately pleased with his praise.

You walked up to his fireplace mantel, examining the items left along the white, sparkling trim he’d spritzed clean of all dust.

“Did you make this?” Came your inquiry, a curious finger pointing toward the round-bottomed, thin-necked red vase.

Wonwoo shook his head.

“No, it was a welcome gift from the landlord.”

“She made it?”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “Didn’t I tell you? She owns the pottery business downstairs. Saskia. She immigrated here like, eighteen years ago, now. From Poland. I thought you might’ve run into her.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to the vase.

“I didn’t see her at all.”

“She was probably in her office.”

“How did she make all these little emblem thingies? Around the base? Like, this one’s got an elephant. This one is a fruit tree.”

Wonwoo squinted at the vase from his place on the couch. He hadn’t really examined it much, apart from when his landlord had thrust it into his hands while she welcomed him to the building. It never held any flowers, either—not even the brilliant ruby coloured poinsettias his ex-girlfriend's mother was supposed to send.

The relationship has disintegrated before it could ever happen.

“Fuck, don’t know. She has a bunch of little tools down there for more detailed work. Maybe a stamp. You’d have to ask her.”

“It’s really pretty.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah? You like ceramics or something?”

You turned back to him, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I was just saying, it’s pretty.”

“It is. It’s very pretty.”

With a sigh, you climbed back onto the couch.

“Do you think you’re done editing?”

He picked up the laptop and set it down on the coffee table.

“I think so. For the day.”

“Perfect.” You smiled. “I’ll make time to read your notes tomorrow morning, if I can. Seems like there’s about eight-hundred.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “not eight-hundred. Try twenty.”

“Twenty?!” Your eyes bulged in shock as you gripped onto the embroidered pillow hugged back into your lap. “That’s so many!”

“What—twenty is somehow more than eight-hundred? What fucking planet are you living on where numeracy works like that?”

“Wonwoo, I have so much to do tomorrow!” You winced, tossing your head against the couch and slipping down the cushions.

“Okay, like what?”

“… Gosh… no, no. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. What have you got to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to tell.”

“Why not?” He murmured.

“If I talk about, then I’ll want to do it even less.” There was an empty sigh he heard from your chest as your arms curled tight around the pillow. “Besides, it’s squished all into my colour-coded block on the schedule. The pink one. I just—I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair. I get that.”

“It’s complicated family stuff.”

Wonwoo huffed sympathetically. “I get that even more.”

“… So, we’re still good for Spring Street on Sunday?” You asked, staring up at Wonwoo from your sunken, defeated slump.

He nodded.

“I’ll be there if you are.”

—MAY 14TH.

The Spring Street Fair. It happened every single May, for three days straight, usually Friday to Sunday. In the daytime it was cheerier and more watered down for the children that came hand in hand with their parents, looking to feed the alpacas and ride those nauseating teacups and sob until exhaustion because they accidentally let go of their kitten-shaped balloon. However, at night, the fair had become a beacon for the older, rowdier university crowd.

Wonwoo never went despite all his recent years living in the city, but Vernon had, usually on accounts of “business” which really meant selling drugs for idiotic prices behind the Whirler or the Starship. You wanted to go, but hadn’t told Wonwoo the reason. He opted to assume it was another part of your story—maybe you ran into Mingyu at a similar fair when you were younger, and it was therefore very integral you go Spring Street tonight. It was the exact opposite of what Wonwoo typically appreciated doing on Sundays, and he knew for a fact he’d loathe it, every single part.

“No fuckin’ way!” Vernon’s voice exploded through the crackly static on Wonwoo’s phone as he stood in line for the fair, gazing over top everyone’s heads to gauge the ticket booth. “I can’t believe your loser ass actually crawled outta bed for that.”

Wonwoo scoffed, “yeah, it wasn’t my choice.”

“Then what for?”

“Her. She wanted to go. It’s for the book.”

He was supposed to meet you inside the fair. It was almost ten o’clock at night. The sky was beautifully clear, illuminated with pinpricks of starlight, and the air had once been crisp. Now, Wonwoo was beginning to smell sparked cannabis, and he assumed a likewise scent would follow him all damn night. The horrid, anxious process of standing in the mile long line was made palatable through his conversation with Vernon, who—shockingly—wasn’t even there.

“Ohh, the book, the book. Wait—she’s gonna write her book at the fuckin’ Spring Street Fair? How the fuck does that work?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Wonwoo chuckled. “It’s stuff about the settings, the environment; she uses it to help with her writing.”

“Hm, doesn’t make much sense to me, probably ‘cause I don’t like readin' or writin' or anything with books. But, damn, I’m jealous of you, Glasses. Do y’know how hard I tried to smooth talk my way into that girl’s pants? N’somehow, you can write good—”

“Write well, not good.”

“Oh, fuck you—write well—so she takes you everywhere like a little purse dog. When does that happen to me, yeah?”

The line started slowly pouring forward, and Wonwoo felt himself get dragged along. Probably another five minutes and he would be at the ticket booth, getting one of those neon bracelets circled around his wrist that were nearly impossible to rip off.

“Why didn’t you come?” Wonwoo asked.

Vernon groaned, “got into some bullshit with this guy who’s not payin’ up. I’m handlin’ it, though. If I can manage to get it all sorted, I’ll come later. It’s too fuckin’ easy selling those gummies to the first years, dude. Shit, it could be some Flintstone vitamins and they’re actin’ like Chicken Little. Cracks me the fuck up.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat, smiling. “You’re such a cunt.”

“Hey, hey, you are what you eat, okay? And, when you get inside or whatever, text me where you’re hangin’ so if I do come, I can see you for a bit. Dunno if your girlfriend will approve.”

The air began mottling with a thin, chalky smoke that drifted from somewhere down the crowded string of university students. Again, the line shuffled, and the congestion gradually broke up as more people were allowed into the fair. Wonwoo switched the phone to his other ear, getting his wallet ready.

“Don’t even start.”

“Start what? I said nothin’.” Vernon’s laughter was raspy and obviously laced with a smirk that Wonwoo could hear.

“Don’t be such a prick. She’s not my—”

Suddenly, Wonwoo’s phone began vibrating against his palm, and when he pulled it down an immediate lump conjured in his throat upon reading your name. His heart jolted, and it wasn’t until someone pushed hard on his back to urge him forward that he realized the line was once again ambling closer to the ticket booth.

Vernon sighed, “so, again, tell me where you’ll—”

“Shit—uh, gotta go. Talk to you later.”

A few remnants of Vernon’s miffed, guttural cursing managed to leak through the phone before Wonwoo could press to accept your call. In an instant, his friend was blipped away, and he heard your voice instead. He held back a cough from the astringent, cottonish air.

“Wonwoo, hello. I’m glad you picked up. So, where the hell are you? It’s nearly ten! Did you not get in line early?”

Wonwoo kept the phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he shimmied the coins out from his wallet.

“No, I did, promise. Just about to pay. Where are you?”

“When you get in, just follow the arrows. They're lit up with those blue lightbulbs. They go to the tavern. I’m having some drinks with my friends. Don’t worry. You won’t have to do much socializing.”

“Uh, okay,” Wonwoo answered, internally counting up the money in his hand until he was certain of the amount. “Mingyu’s there?”

“No. He always plays poker with his friends on Sunday.”

An unbeknownst pressure escaped his chest.

“Okay. I’m close to the front. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sure. Don’t be late!”

“I know. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo had just enough time to wriggle the device into his back pocket before handing the ticket booth clerk his coins. She dropped the cold change into his hand, then asked to see his wrist, where she proceeded to attach the bracelet with the words Spring Street Fair etched into the orange, plasticky-feeling paper.

Finally, he was let inside.

Blue arrows, blue arrows—that was all Wonwoo kept reiterating in his head like some religious hymn as he followed the glow throughout the fairgrounds, weaving his way between large groups of people that he gleefully didn’t recognize. Eventually, he saw the tavern you were referring to—an outdoor bar with picnic tables set up everywhere, beneath cheap little strings of warm, lambent lights.

Even with his glasses on, Wonwoo was still squinting as he walked between each table, attempting to discern your dolled-up face somewhere amongst the strangers sipping on their large mugs of alcohol, that was until he heard his name being called over the music rumbling from the bar’s horrible speakers. When he looked straight ahead, he saw you cutely waving him over. With each step he took, Wonwoo reminded himself to breathe, to loosen up, to stop clenching his fists so painfully tight as though he were going to split someone’s eyebrow. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just breathe.

You stood up from the table to welcome him, and he felt your hand settle softly on his lower back. The touch was grounding.

“So, everyone, girls, if I could get your attention for just a moment despite the general impairment going on here—this is the mystery guy whose been helping me write. Wonwoo.”

God—he wanted to puke, all those big, curious, unabashed eyes soaking him in like freshly dipped watercolour to a cloth canvas. There was a cluster of high-pitched voices that repeated his name in a shrill, unison greeting. However, Wonwoo was unable to meet a single girl’s gaze, and so he opted to stare down at a paper plate on the table aligned with cinnamon-sprinkled churros.

Again, he wanted to throw up.

“So, of course, Wonwoo’s been the biggest help with everything,” you said, to which he could sense your nails subtly digging at him through his clothes, most likely a silent urge to say something so he didn’t seem so unprecedentedly stiff and metallic.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. I’m just proofreading, really.” Wonwoo had to swallow. “Some tips here and there. But, she’s pretty good as is.”

“Is that your actual voice?”

His eyes darted to find who asked the question. She was toward the end of the picnic table, tucking a lock of short, coffee brown hair behind her ear. Before the girl was a gigantic and fluorescent pink drink, the glass resembling the shape of a fish bowl.

“… What do you mean?” Wonwoo replied.

She sat up on her knee, continuing to ogle him with those fixated but glazed chestnut eyes. Her mouth seemed to drag as though it was thawing when she spoke. Wonwoo could tell she was already well inebriated. There was no way that was her first drink.

“Your voice,” she repeated, “it’s so… deep.”

“Well… I don’t know. Puberty.”

His comment elicited some giggles from around the table, to which he could feel the cartilage in his ears burning.

“Wonwoo—” another girl then leaned forward with her head tilted up and a coy, drunk smile flittering on her mouth, “—I think it’s so, so great you’re helping Her write. I actually think it’s the sweetest, ever.” Her lashes were coated in smooth mascara and her eyelids were remarkably glimmery, drenched in an electric shade of blue that he couldn’t stop staring at. “Also, sorry, but you’re like, super gorge.”

“Super what?” He repeated, confused at her wording.

But she didn't seem interested in repeating herself, instead scooping the long and impressively silky black hair off her shoulder to spill down her pale back.

“Okay, okay, okay. We’ve all shared some impetuous conversation and we’ve all swooned over him now. Yippee. Unfortunately, we’ve gotta get going, friends.”

Wonwoo felt your hand land on his shoulder and gently tug him backward, away from the table. You then proceeded to grab the glass left at your seat, chugging the remaining alcohol until there was nothing but a melting block of ice cubes clicking at the bottom. While you wiped your mouth, you began aiming a finger at each girl.

“To make a long story short, that’s Princess, Clara, and Bells. Do you have any comments for them before we go?” The impatience in your tone was bleeding through with sheer apathy.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Uh, nice to meet everyone? I guess.”

“Short and efficient. How perfect. Okay, I’ll see you guys later, I think. Actually—probably not. So can someone eat my churros?”

Your arm curled around Wonwoo’s bicep as though to whisk him away as hurriedly as possible. Everyone left at the table began waving, and Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to force a fake, pleasant smile because he was still attempting to understand what all those comments even meant. You walked briskly until the poetic, firefly lights of the tavern were lost long behind in the distance, and when you finally paused, he had not a clue where he was standing—a busy centre with people mingling all around him, the wild whirring of carnival rides and chaotic, blinking hues strobing above his head.

When he looked down at you, he was surprised to see you were already staring back, and he could only hold the eye contact for no more than a few seconds or else his heart would skip a beat.

“Sorry about all that,” you said, rolling your shoulders, “I tried to be somewhat reasonable with my drinking for once. I can’t say the same for Clara and Bells. They guzzle cocktails like apple juice.”

“Bells is… the one with all that sparkly blue eyeshadow?”

“Oh—yeah. She loves sparkles. Glitter. Anything glimmery. She’s been like that ever since I’ve known her. Clara was the one who asked about your voice. She has a thing for guys with deep voices and you unfortunately fit the bill. And I’m sorry that Princess didn’t say anything. She kind of just looks and observes. Also I’m like ninety-eight percent sure she popped something in a porta-potty before we met up so she’s probably in a mental state of star-surfing. Anyway. You don’t have to worry about them, alright? It’s just us for tonight.”

“Well, that’s… easy enough.”

“I’m not sure if we should stand here.”

“Hm?”

You then pointed to something behind Wonwoo, and when he turned his head, he felt a gust of wind from the gigantic, spinning ride that resembled a flying saucer in the nighttime sky. It was always beyond him why anyone would choose to strap themselves into a machine that terrifying. It made him sick just watching.

“If I get throw up on my head, I’m killing myself.”

“Okay, so let’s find somewhere else.”

As he began walking away in search of a quieter area, you grabbed onto the back of his clothes. Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

“We have to hold hands, or have arms linked,” you said.

For some reason, Wonwoo presumed you were joking, and so he tilted his head at you with a questioning smile. But when your serious expression didn’t crack, he realized it wasn’t a joke at all.

“Oh… why?”

“Because—” you then took a step toward him and spoke matter-of-factly, like you were reading a rule book, “—it’s the buddy system. Always have someone at your side, and make sure you’re linked in some way. It’s too easy to get separated in places like this, otherwise. Have you never heard of that before?”

“I have,” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. “My—um, my hands are a little cold. I don’t have the best circulation.”

The truth was, Wonwoo didn’t want to hold your hand. He didn’t want to link arms with you. He didn’t want you pressed into his side all night. He didn’t want to have the scent of your hair under his nose or feel your ticklish breath against his neck each time you spoke.

But he didn’t have a good enough excuse to fight it.

“Oh my god, who cares,” you retorted. “And I have super sweaty hands. Like, uncomfortably warm. We'll balance out.”

“Actually?”

“Yes! Is that a problem for you, sweetheart?”

Wonwoo quickly shook his head in response to your condescending tone. You then reached for his hand, which he offered up for your required holding, and chose to ignore the butterflies in the deep pit of his stomach when he realized how perfectly your fingers slotted with his. He followed your lead through the fair until you came outside a small lemonade booth. Wonwoo thought you would drop his hand, but you didn’t, and his knees felt like gelatine.

“I want another drink,” you told him.

He squinted at their options, which didn’t really consist of much. The prices were obviously insane—it was another reason he hated going to fairs. His wallet always got cleaned out.

“You’re going to have to use the washroom a lot.”

“Ugh,” you gritted in response, brushing some hair from your face, “I hate public washrooms. They’re so gross. Completely unsanitary. Awful maintenance. One time I was here and I walked into the washroom by the Mirror Hall and I swear, a freaking rat ran across the floor! I screamed bloody murder. I’d rather squat in the bush and risk getting, like, poison ivy. But the washrooms have mirrors obviously, and I like checking my makeup and stuff. I wish I could check now.”

“Right now? I mean, your makeup looks fine.”

Wonwoo saw your entire face freeze, and then begin to warp, as though he’d just said the most dreadful thing he could think of.

“Fine?” You glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He started stumbling over his words, feeling his chest tighten.

“So, what you’re saying is that I look ugly? That my makeup looks bad? Because if you really thought it was ‘fine’ then you wouldn’t have said it looks ‘fine’ because everyone knows that word is a substitute for passable and passable is just a substitute for ugly!”

He opened his mouth, then instantly closed it.

“So what’s wrong with it? Are my under eyes creasing? Is my contour too dark? Is my lipstick smudged? Did it get on my teeth? Ugh, I knew I should have brought my compact!”

“No, no, no.” Wonwoo squeezed your hand, hoping that he could somehow undo the damage he had no intention of even inflicting in the first place. “Uh—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You look—” he wasn’t sure he could say the compliment without shivering, but Wonwoo didn’t care in the moment, “—your makeup is beautifully done. There’s no creasing or smudging, there’s none of that."

You kept touching worrisomely at your face. “Are you sure?”

“I promise.” Wonwoo confirmed, giving your hand another tight, reassuring squeeze that seemed to calm you down.

He had never seen someone switch gears that quickly. You could be perfectly amicable one second, and then break down into near hysteria the next, a slew of anxious thoughts running straight from your brain to your mouth like clockwork.

Wonwoo wondered how Mingyu dealt with such tangents all the time. The trait almost didn’t seem to fit your image.

The line moved forward another step.

“Are you going to drink anything?” You asked after a moment of silence, in a quieter voice. “I want to get the strawberry refresher.”

“Maybe.”

“What will you get?”

“I… don’t know. A regular lemonade?”

“No,” you shook your head, pointing toward the corner of the booth’s menu, “get the pina colada thing. I want to try it, too.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo agreed with a shrug as he retrieved his wallet, not really caring about what he drank. “I’ll pay for it. No worries.”

The longer Wonwoo was at the fair, the less he actually thought about why he was there, until the question leapt into his mind at random while he stood beside you, waiting for a seat on the dauntingly large Farris wheel. He removed the straw from his mouth, swallowing a gulp of his pina colada flavoured drink, and peered down at you. His hand was still interlinked with yours. You had finished the strawberry refresher in about five minutes.

Now, you were texting someone. He didn’t know if it was a friend from earlier or perhaps your boyfriend, but Wonwoo wasn’t a serious sleuth, so he opted to look away despite the natural urge that was pricking him. When you finally tucked the phone back into the small bag slung around your shoulder, Wonwoo lowered the plastic cup from his mouth, making sure to clear his throat.

“So, uh, why are we here, exactly?”

You sniffled. “What do y’mean?”

“Does the fair have anything to do with your writing? Is that why we’re riding the Farris wheel? Oh—speaking of which, I didn’t think to bring the camcorder, in case you wanted any footage.”

“Oh, no,” you said, waving a dismissive hand, “this has nothing to do with my book. We’re palate cleansing.”

“Palate cleansing?” He echoed.

“Yeah. It’s like, doing something different in between a routine, to keep yourself fresh. You always eat breakfast at home but today you skip it and go out for brunch. Y’know, shit like that.”

Wonwoo huffed in amusement. “You could have told me beforehand.”

“Uh, no—” your face scrunched up in clear disagreement, “—I couldn’t, because then you wouldn’t have gone. No offence, but you’re a hermit, Wonwoo. You don’t really like going anywhere or doing anything and you’re definitely one of those people who bores themselves into hating their own life because your stimuli is so limited. That’s why I didn’t tell. Again, no offence.”

“Oh.”

That was all he could string together in response—not even string together, because it was just one boring, monotone sound that basically got carried away in the chilly wind, tinted with the smell of buttery popcorn and weed. It sounded like something that was supposed to sting, but it didn’t really. Maybe he was growing more accustomed to your unprompted judgements on his personal life.

Suddenly Wonwoo had blinked and you two were next in line for the empty cart. The clerk pointed at Wonwoo’s drink.

“You can’t bring that with you,” he said.

Before Wonwoo could think to respond, you had already grabbed the cup from his hand, chucking it straight into the garbage.

“We’re not.”

Pulling on his hand, you guided him into the shaky cart, both of you squishing onto the cold, metal bench. It was quite literally the tamest ride in the entire fair, and yet Wonwoo was still feeling nervous about it—though, that was possibly the fact he was going to be sailed one-hundred feet into the satin black sky, left amongst the stars and the bright, shimmering halo of the moon with you and you alone. He was actually relieved you had tossed his drink, otherwise he might have dropped it due to the trembling in his fingers. It was easier to fiddle with them in order to disguise their shakiness.

“I guess I should have asked if you’re afraid of heights,” you said.

The cart jerked abruptly as the ride began to move and lift you two ever so gradually from the ground. Wonwoo peered over the edge for a brief moment to watch his distance grow from the people below, their jumbled mess of conversations fading in place of quiet.

“Uh, no. I’m okay with heights,” he finally answered.

He saw you glancing down as well, smiling to yourself.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he should attempt at conversation or just maintain the stillness between you. Usually, he couldn’t stand it, and the pressure to talk and fill the silence always tended to fail or squander something potentially enjoyable. But he supposed it was typically like that in a situation where two people weren’t the best acquainted—that’s why Wonwoo always quite liked Vernon, despite his rough, nonconformed edges and often vulgar way of speaking.

He was able to carry a conversation so naturally that the quieter moments never felt suffocating, instead falling exactly where they should, like puzzle pieces. But that was harder with you.

Maybe it was because you could be intimidating, unpredictable—Wonwoo was never truly relaxed around you because there was this intangible, looming worry that he needed to have the perfect responses and be the most perfect person. He found that perfect people only hung out with other perfect people and Wonwoo was certainly not that—perfect. You must have seen it by now. He was just as rough as Vernon no doubt, but in a different, hidden way that had to be dug into like an archeologist looking for broken bones.

The Ferris wheel slowed down, coming to a stop. You weren’t at the very top, though the air was notably cooler and much fresher. When he inhaled a long breath, it smelled purely of night and not overpriced, buttery fair food and burning weed. He noted that you stared straight ahead, at the crescent-shaped moon, which mirrored a backward stare with how squarely it sat in front of the ride. For once, Wonwoo wasn’t squirming, wriggling, stressing at the silence. When he spoke, he did it because he genuinely wanted to.

“How was your Saturday?”

“My Saturday?”

“Yeah. I saw the schedule. You had to run a bunch of errands with your mom. Looked like you were pretty keyed up.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to say I was overreacting the day before about how much I was dreading it. But then it fucking happened. And… I, uh… I realized I was exactly right. It was awful. I did get to your notes, though… yeah—I just—I squeezed them in between brunch with my mom’s friend who could talk herself to death and the excruciating car ride to the publisher’s office.”

“Mmhm.” Wonwoo smiled tenderly. “Did they help at all?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “a lot, actually… thank you.”

“I’m sorry your Saturday went so terribly.”

Huffing in response, you nibbled on your inner check.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is… I already knew it was gonna be a shit show. So, what is it that you write about, anyway? Because you seem like you know a whole lot. Seokmin says you let him read some of your poetry, but it was only like, two excerpts.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wonwoo recalled the memory of Seokmin picking up his leather notebook when it fell out from his bag one day. He’d pestered him about the contents until Wonwoo succumbed and presented him with some lifeless, impatiently scribbled prose that he’d most likely jerked out on the bus or in between his lectures. Seokmin seemed to treat it like fine, prestigious gold, though Wonwoo knew it was the least personal of his work that he would never let another living soul on the planet breathe—not one scent of the ink or even the paper.

“So, you write poetry?”

“I started writing poetry, haikus and all that easy stuff. I developed the interest a lot more through high school. But I never sat down and tried writing anything like a novel until I... I started uni.”

“Yeah. Deciding to be a math major. I still don’t get it,” you sighed, fidgeting with some rings on your fingers. “But what do you even write about? Like, what’s your inspiration?”

Wonwoo paused, looking down at his knees.

“… Life.”

“Life?” You defeatedly slumped into the seat. “That’s the million dollar answer your intelligent brain chose to erect? It’s just that when I think about it, I’m letting you help me with my writing, but I’ve never even read a little smidgen of yours. How’s that fair?”

The higher the Farris Wheel climbed, the stronger the breeze blew, and Wonwoo could feel its tendrils lashing across his cheeks and parting through his hair. You huddled further into your jacket.

“Well, you took Seokmin’s word for it,” Wonwoo laughed.

Your eyes rolled, but you smiled gently. “I know.”

Suddenly, your hand had reached out, and you were pushing the floppy, black tresses off his forehead. Wonwoo’s fingers dug bluntly into his arms. You then angled yourself in the small cart, looking back at him, sculpting your gaze to each crest in his face.

“Why don’t you ever push your hair back?”

The question hit the dark, cold atmosphere like a sizzling ember and Wonwoo was afraid to even open his mouth because he was certain a dying squeak would come out. You continued to play around with the locks, earthing your fingers deep into its texture and attempting to style it despite the persistent, fluttering breeze.

“Um…”

“If you styled it like this—” you moved in closer, staring with so much focus at your nimble movements, “—yeah, like that. It shows off your forehead, gives you a bit of class. I mean, the wind’s messing it up. You don’t tend to do anything with your hair.”

“No.” Wonwoo swallowed, hard.

“Well, you should. Not all the time, obviously. And I’m not saying you look bad with it down—not at all. But you’ve got nice, smouldering features and they’re so much more… framed… when you show your forehead.” You collapsed back into the seat, and that tingly feeling he experienced when your fingers had been tugging and pulling was disseminating throughout his entire body. “I mean, look at how my friends reacted to you. I should apologize for that again, by the way. O-M-F-G, they see one hot guy, and they lose their grip.”

He nearly choked. “Hot?”

It didn’t sound right. Not at all.

“Well, what the fuck, Wonwoo? You’re not ugly.”

“Did you think that when you first saw me?”

You had folded your leg again as the Farris wheel came to another stop. This time, at the very top, at the centre of the night.

“Did I think what? That you’re not ugly?”

“Never mind,” Wonwoo grimaced, hearing the cart creek as you better positioned yourself to face him. “It’s pathetic like that.”

“No. I didn’t think you were ugly. Did you think I was ugly?”

Wonwoo wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, but he smothered it down because he knew one little laugh might hit your ear the wrong way, and it would be flames, sputtering and spewing. Obviously, he didn’t think you were ugly—he never had, even before he ever spoke to you. But he wasn’t so shallow as to only regard someone’s physical appearance. You were still terrifying.

“I wouldn’t consider anyone ugly... and I wouldn’t ever use it to describe some aesthetically. But—I mean, I think people can become ugly through their personality, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, like, if they’re rotten inside.”

“Mmhm.”

“I agree.”

“What was that word your friend Bells said?”

You shrugged, “which word?”

“She said something like, you’re super… I don’t know… super something.”

“Oh—” you sat up more in the cart, your back pressed against the uncomfortable corner, “—Bells said you were super gorge.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning super gorgeous.” You made a big show of the rehashed compliment, parroting your friend's tone and swaying your shoulders.

“Oh… really?” Wonwoo shook his head. “I thought she was referring to gorge as in when you gorge yourself, from eating.”

“No,” you giggled at him, “it’s a short form, dumb-dumb.”

“Why make a short form out of that? Is it really that strenuous to say the word gorgeous? It’s only an extra syllable.”

“Okay, well, this isn’t the nineteen-twenties. We don’t all cross our T’s and dot our I’s. It reminds me of how you text.”

He furrowed his brow. “How do I text?”

Your eyes rolled frivolously. “I dunno. Like you’re typing to a business colleague or something. You’re so formal. When I think of you texting, I imagine it’s like someone using a typewriter. And that funny little ding sound it makes whenever you start a new line.”

“Oh.”

“What—no one’s ever told you that before? No way.”

“That I text like I’m using a fucking typewriter? No, actually. I can’t say I’ve heard that.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal. You’re just not very plugged into the internet, I suppose. Which is a good thing. It gives you prestige.”

At that, Wonwoo chuckled. “Does it?”

“Yes,” you smiled, eyes full of starlight, “and—just ignore Bells, okay? She was being kind of weird but that can be fully attributed to those three shots I told her not to take.”

“Hm.”

You continued to stare at him with a plotting smile.

“Hm what? What’s the matter?” The metal of the cart squeaked as you leaned forward, your voice suddenly lathered in mischief. “Did you think she was cute?” He heard your tone drop, and your low, smooth voice breathing hot against his ear. “Did you think about fucking her, Wonwoo?”

“No—what the fuck—not at all.” Quickly, he’d pushed you away and off his shoulder, to which you retreated into the corner with a giggle that should have made his skin crawl, but didn’t.

“Well, how would I know?” You answered, tilting your head and stretching out your arms high into the blackness, as though you were trying to reach for a star. “I never know, because you never look at me. It makes me think you just lied and you do think I’m ugly.”

Wonwoo glanced over the edge of the cart, at the almost nauseating distance between himself and the fairgrounds, covered with miniature, bustling people that seemed like breadcrumbs by comparison to their place in the sky. He didn’t want to sink into this conversation. Besides, how was he supposed to look at you when your fingers were just gliding through his hair and your lips were whispering close enough to brush up against his ear? How was he supposed to act composed? Normal?

“Hey, Wonwoo?” Your fingers snapped.

But he just kept thinking. Like he was cut from a separate cloth than you—the fabric of his universe wasn’t woven with yours and he could ruminate as much as he wanted to and it was impossible to hear your intrusions. Why couldn’t he look at you?

You intimidated him, yes. You scared him, double yes.

He already knew that. It couldn’t just be that.

“Wonwoo? God… you shut down over the simplest things.”

“I don’t know.”

You paused, staring him up and down, perplexed.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why I can’t look at you.”

There was a lasting silence between you. Wonwoo felt like he might throw up for acknowledging the fact out loud, and his fist tightened in his lap as though to ground himself—to remember where he was and to breathe slowly, because having a panic attack on top of a stupid Ferris Wheel was the last place it should happen. He hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted closer, one leg curled beneath you while you spoke at the side of his head. But he didn’t hear you, couldn’t see you—there was a harsh void inside him that sounded like suctioning air and static. His fingernail was pressing so deeply into the flesh of his pale skin that it was beginning to faintly bleed.

And—all of a sudden—there were these hands cautiously gripping onto his face, pulling him toward you. He kept staring at the movement of your soft lips, focusing on their pronunciation until everything flooded back in one overwhelming whirl and it felt like being slammed by a freight train.

Wonwoo then grabbed onto your bare knee as a crutch. He didn’t mean to. But you didn’t seem to care.

“—everything okay? Wonwoo? Do I need to like, call someone? Because you look like you’re going to be sick.”

He heaved in a gaping breath, feeling how cold the midnight air was in the thinning atmosphere that encompassed him. It was soothing, akin to a hand massaging along his back.

“Wonwoo?” You repeated his name, sounding awfully scared.

Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes. He blurrily saw you touch the spot on your knee where his hand had buried into.

“Sorry,” he then coughed through the heartbeat raspy in his throat, bringing the glasses back to his face, “I spaced out.”

“Spaced out?” You echoed. “That wasn’t spacing out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He thought you fight might it.

“Well…” you sighed, glancing around uncertainly, “are you okay? Is there someone you want to call? I don’t know.”

But you didn’t. Thank God.

“No, I’m—” he stopped, gulping back the words.

“… Yeah?” There was a softer intrigue in your cadence.

Wonwoo looked at you. Fully this time. He looked straight into your eyes that were like a glossy, moonlit ocean, detailed with swirling riptides of surprise and apprehensiveness, but also immense depth that seemed genuinely appreciative of his gesture.

“I’m fine.”

And then he watched you nod, smile, and in return study his cavern eyes with the same intensity and wonder. It was such a peculiar experience, staring at you, understanding a little more of your truth, your gentleness.

He didn’t feel as scared.

—MAY 16TH.

Wonwoo had been standing before the mirror in his washroom for the past half-hour or so, primarily just staring, examining, and pulling at the long, limp fronds of his hair. There was a point in his life when he legitimately put effort into styling it, and all his old hair products were still sitting in the cabinet. Though, his ex-girlfriend had tended to help him with it most days, because he found the strands were just too thick and stubborn to work with.

However, since the Spring Street Fair, Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake those comments you made—about how nicely his face could be framed and the smouldering nature of his features. He would never think to describe himself that way as it seemed particularly pompous and kind of foolish, but hearing you say it was different. The thing was, Wonwoo had no idea where to start, and attempting to rummage his fingers through his hair just didn’t feel as stimulating or electric compared to your meticulous, sweet touch.

In the midst of opening his cabinet for a comb, Wonwoo heard his phone vibrate. He looked down at the sink, seeing the screen brighten with a text notification from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: hey Glasses

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: Solar Pop at 2?

Wonwoo thought about it for a moment, running his thumb down the spine of the comb to hear the little thwip. And then he sighed in decision, texting back a thumbs up. It’s not like he was working later, and as much as Wonwoo would love to believe that today might be the day he made actual progress on his own story, he knew it was just wishful thinking. In reality he’d waste ample time staring into the document, pondering all the scenes and emotions and nuances he could write rather than moving to write anything at all.

Besides, he hadn’t eaten yet today. The thought of a juicy, sauce-slathered, bun-toasted burger being his first meal prompted the boy’s face to sallow greenly with sickness, but the longer he stood in the washroom, combing and slicking and running styling balm through the black bird’s nest on his head, Wonwoo felt the hunger start to bite like an emaciated, starved dog. He left his apartment knowing he would be somewhat late, but Vernon was always later.

And while Wonwoo sat in one of the booths at Solar Pop, flicking the laminated menu back and forth despite knowing the exact order he was going to place, he thought about sending Vernon another text to ask where the hell he even was. Wonwoo could only sip his slippery glass of coke for so long until the waitress decided he was crazy and had been one-hundred percent stood up.

“Hey, fuck, I’m here.”

2:24 pm—that’s when Vernon finally arrived, sliding himself into the leather bench opposite to Wonwoo while tossing his big, metallic clump of keys onto the table. The boy then proceeded to shimmy off his black jacket, propping his elbows onto the table.

If Vernon ever pulled a tardy stunt like that with you, Wonwoo imagined his friend would probably get stuffed into one of those boxes for sawing people in half. Except it wouldn’t be magic.

“Did you get pulled over or something? Police raid? Traffic stop?” Wonwoo asked, now resting his menu down flat.

Vernon laughed, shaking his head. “Uh, no. Couldn’t find my fuckin’ car keys,” he spoke in a breathless voice. “Sorry ‘bout it.”

“Couldn’t find them?” Wonwoo almost scoffed at the excuse while his friend began scouring his way through the menu. “Dude, they’re the fucking size of a bowling ball. How could you lose them?”

“Okay, okay. Fuckin’ skin me alive, why don’t you?”

“You didn’t come from your place, I’m guessing.”

At that, Vernon began to grin, the metal on his pierced lip glinting underneath a ray of sunlight through the blinds. He was still occupied with choosing which burger he wanted. Wonwoo picked the same choice every time. Vernon always tried something different.

“No, I didn’t,” he rasped, flashing his sharp teeth and flipping the menu over, “but when Maleeha Rabia sends you a text at goddamn one in the morning of her tits, you don’t roll over n’ go to bed like some loser. Besides, my ecstasy was just sittin’ around and I had to use it one way or another. Anyway, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I think I’ll get the Double Bacon Crunch Burger. Sounds good as hell.”

Finally, Vernon threw the menu down with conviction.

“Jesus Christ—” his copper-burnt eyes then flared open as he looked across the table at his friend, “—who the fuck are you?”

Wonwoo itched his nose. “Um, what?”

Vernon leaned forward, seeming captivated. “Uh, your fuckin’ hair? How’d you get it like that? It’s all brushed over and soft lookin’ and shit. I feel like I shouldn’t be sittin’ with you, Prince Charmin’.”

“I just put some balm in it, combed it around,” he answered, reaching for his drink. “Took me a humiliating amount of time.”

“Well, consider me starstruck. What’s made you do all that?”

Before Wonwoo could answer, the waitress returned to the table with her small notepad and shiny pen. Vernon pitched his order first, and Wonwoo followed, asking for the regular quarter-pounder with a side of hot crinkle-cut fries. Once she whisked the menus away and promised to grab Vernon’s root beer float, Wonwoo realized he still had to answer his friend’s question. He didn’t exactly want to tell the truth, because he knew Vernon would never let him hear the end of it, but Wonwoo also didn’t want to be too dishonest.

“Your face is doin’ that thing.”

“What thing?” Wonwoo answered, swallowing his sip of soda.

Vernon crossed his arms on the table, accenting the canvas of darkly-inked tattoos needled into his skin. He shook his head.

“It’s ‘cause of your little girlyfriend, isn’t it?”

Fuck. Wonwoo should have just opened his mouth straight away and spieled out some quick-witted lie. Now he would be painfully subject to Vernon’s unfiltered teasing. Leaning back in his seat, Wonwoo unearthed a miserable sigh at Vernon’s smirk.

“You’ve gotta drop that bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Vernon pressured.

“No, it’s not.”

As though to interpret Wonwoo’s steadfastness as a challenge, Vernon leaned further over the table, dropping his voice but still smiling devilishly through every word he mimicked between his teeth.

“Oh, Wonwoo, your hair looks so fucking sexy like that. It makes you look so perfect. You’re from my dreams. Please, just fuck me right here, right now so I can push my fingers through it ‘cause it’s so soft and silky and I’m basically in love with you.”

“Shut the fuck up. Please.”

“That was a good impression, though, wasn’t it?”

In the loud space of Wonwoo’s disgusted silence, the waitress placed Vernon’s drink onto the table and ensured the food would be coming soon. Vernon watched her walk away, back into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he then grinned in capitulating fashion, “take a stupid joke, alright? I know she’s not in love with you and she doesn’t wanna suck your dick—she’s got a fuckin’ boyfriend. If it makes you feel any better, I’m just projectin’ ‘cause you know I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo sucked in a sip from his coke, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vernon dismissed, poking his spoon at the near perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream afloat in the frosty mug, “but just so y’know, your mopey ass left me out to dry on Sunday night. Shoved me off the phone, didn’t respond to one of my texts. You’re lucky I even asked you t’hang today. Did she take your phone or something’?”

Shit. When Vernon said it like that, Wonwoo seemed like a terrible friend. Maybe he did deserve a deal of teasing. But at the same time, Wonwoo knew how easy it was for your attitude to flip and he hadn’t been at all interested in starting the night with hostility.

“Okay, fair.” He admitted, rolling up his sleeves.

“And?” Vernon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“There you fuckin’ go. That’s all I wanted t’hear, Glasses.”

The truth was, Wonwoo actually quite enjoyed his time with you that night—despite the transient, bickering hiccups and his nearly faltering panic attack, he had fun. Actual fun. Of course, as soon as your ride ended on the Ferris wheel, you’d clutched onto his hand like a snake sinking in its fangs and dragged him throughout the entirety of the fair to find a washroom. Nonetheless, he really loved playing some carnival games with you, like skee ball and the water pistol. He was even able to win you a pink stuffed bear that you had carried close to the chest for the remainder of your time at the fair.

Wonwoo thought he could spend another night like that with you again. Just to get out of his apartment, to feel exhilaration in the pit of his stomach, to laugh until his lungs dried out, to hold your warm, comforting hand in his even when it became too clammy or inconvenient because otherwise you would scold him for letting go.

“Food’s on the way,” Vernon perked up like a child about to be served a slice of birthday cake as the waitress walked over with two full plates, “if you can’t finish yours, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah—how about you focus on chewing and not choking to death first,” Wonwoo sighed, watching his friend’s metaphorical tail wag.

Once she set the food down, inquiring about any refills, and left while flashing her perfected customer service smile, Vernon grabbed the burger with both his hands, taking a gigantic, succulent bite that somehow didn’t singe the roof of his mouth. Wonwoo winced, instead going for his crisped, golden fries.

“Damn. You’re really that hungry?”

“I’m ravenous,” Vernon mumbled, picking up a few caramelized onions that fell onto his plate. “Dude, I woke up at noon in Maleeha’s bed. She was out cold. Nothin’ in her pantry but some stale fuckin’ Fruit Loops that I may have tried. I’m a grown ass man. I need a meal.”

“I’m glad you’re so proactive," Wonwoo answered, sinking his burning hot fry into the small side-bowl of ketchup.

It took them less than half an hour to clean their plates. Wonwoo tended to eat at a slower pace, with smaller, more savoury bites, while Vernon sloppily devoured his entire burger and gobbled down his fries with the occasional dipping into the root beer float’s ice cream. They scarcely talked in between, too focused on eating and drinking. Wonwoo pushed away his plate when he’d finished and proceeded to wipe off his salty, crumb-speckled fingers with a napkin, meanwhile Vernon took a moment to sink backward into the leather seat, placing a hand over his full, satiated stomach.

“Hey, do y’think they have any Life Savers?” He eventually piped up while sticking a toothpick into his mouth. “I want grape.”

Wonwoo scoffed, tossing the napkin onto his plate and taking out his phone. “Who the fuck likes grape?”

“Me, you smartass,” Vernon answered, turning backward in his seat and scanning the restaurant for any colourful candy bowls.

He couldn’t deny that he was hoping to see a text from you, but there was nothing, and his chest dropped. Wonwoo decided to open the schedule you had made, curious as to what you were even doing today—work until five o’clock, and then you were going out for supper with some friends at Terra Cotta.

He thought about texting you. His thumbs kept hovering above the keyboard in contemplation, even though he knew for certain he wouldn’t text anything. He would just stare and hope.

“Holy shit. Uh, oh my God. Wonwoo. I-I see—”

Vernon had suddenly reached a hand onto the table, slapping the lacquered wood a few times to garner his attention.

“What?” He mumbled in agitation, keeping his focus glued to the phone. “If you see the Life Savers just go up and take some. I swear, they’re not gonna fucking care you’re not twelve years old.”

“No, no, no, dumbass,” Vernon hissed, turning back around in the booth, his honey eyes glistering in oils of dread and panic. “Look, actually look. That’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

Immediately, Wonwoo clicked off his phone, instead squinting into the distant corner of the restaurant where a notably tall, black-haired boy with tanned, amber skin had emerged from a doorway, standing in a somehow casual but imposing way that only be Mingyu.

It must be Mingyu, and that fact became glaringly obvious when Wonwoo made the unintentional, floundering mistake of staring straight into the boy’s wandering and earthen brown eyes.

“Oh my fuckin’ God, oh my fuckin’ God,” Vernon kept reiterating under his breath, bouncing his knee like an anxious student waiting for their test. “He definitely saw us. Or—he definitely saw you. This is so bad, man. I think he’s gonna rock me.”

“What?” Wonwoo whispered back harshly, attempting to float his gaze away from Mingyu in a casual manner. “For what reason?”

It seemed like Vernon almost wanted to gag at him. “Um—because of what fuckin’ happened between me n’ his girl! At that party? I told you about that shit, didn’t I?” He rasped from across the table, his bottom lip worried between biting teeth. “Dude, what if he tries to pull a fast one? You’re what—like six foot something? You have to help back me up. I can throw a pretty solid punch—even better when I’m shit-faced—but that might not be enough. Lady Liberty’s built like a brick.”

“Okay, you’re acting crazy,” Wonwoo uttered in disbelief. “I doubt he’s going to be anything but physical, especially in a public place. And, you said you didn’t know Her was in a relationship.”

“How the fuck do I know he knows that? Can’t exactly use my infectious charm on someone whose girlfriend I tried to rail.”

Vernon somehow dared to spare another rapid glance over his shoulder, only to shed an entire mould of colour from his complexion.

“He’s coming, he’s—”

“Shut up and relax,” Wonwoo mumbled. “I’m sure it’s nothing big—he’ll say a thing or two and be on his way. God, I’ll handle it.”

For some reason, Wonwoo thought he should be sinking into consternation a lot more than he actually was, but it’s not that his chest wasn’t thumping or his mind wasn’t spinning amuck with worry. It was more so that he was managing the whirlwind, as best he could, as much as he could manage. Mingyu wasn’t a complete stranger, and all their past interactions had been boringly cordial or even forgettable. Nonetheless, Wonwoo would still prefer to avoid the boy because that made his life simpler in the grand scheme of anxiety.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Mingyu approached the table with a confident, leisurely stride, extending his large hand for Wonwoo to grab, exchanging a dap. “I almost didn’t recognize you for a sec.”

“All good,” Wonwoo answered, attempting a polite grin that felt much more sweltering on the inside than out. “How’ve you been?”

Mingyu shrugged, burying his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants while he gazed at the slitted curtains for a moment, pondering his reply. “Decent. Playing a lot of basketball. I don’t think I’ve seen you since I came to the pharmacy. You still there?”

“Still there.”

“Well, at least I haven’t had to come in for a fuckin’ pregnancy test yet. That’s good I suppose, yeah?” The boy chuckled, then tilting his head a certain way to crack a stiff spot in his neck.

“Aisle five if you ever need it.”

Mingyu responded with a smirk that perhaps lasted a second too long, and these slimming, analyzing eyes—a gaze that Wonwoo felt ripple in his gut. He chose to believe it was nothing dire, or else he would spiral right there on the spot and lose all fine-tuned control.

Meanwhile Vernon had been sitting quietly the entire time, most likely hoping he would remain in the dark, skulking shadows outside Wonwoo’s spotlight. But he must not have been hoping hard enough, because Mingyu proceeded to smile at him, again extending his hand for another dap, which Vernon yielded apprehensively.

“You’re a pretty recognizable guy, unfortunately,” Mingyu acknowledged with a husky laugh—a clear reference to the boy’s identifying tattoos and numerous facial piercings, “I think you deal to at least a third of my friends. It’s Vernon, right?”

“Mmhm. Yes sir.” To Vernon’s luck, he had a well-polished and gleaming smile that made it impossible for him to seem disingenuous, though Wonwoo knew he was wilting inside.

“I’m sorry about Dots.”

“Oh, uh. All good. It is what it is, y’know?”

Mingyu nodded.

“Hey—those tattoos are crazy good. Where’d you get them?”

Vernon looked across his arm. “Thanks. Mostly Liquid Impact—dude there that I call Funfetti ‘cause he eats Funfetti box cake all the time. Uh, but his actual name’s like, Axel or some white-boy shit like that. He’s done a majority of it. The others—man, I don’t know. Half the time I’m off my fuckin’ face and wake up with shit I never remember.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mingyu sniffed, running a hand through his long, shiny onyx locks of hair. “Guess you also don’t remember promising my girlfriend the best sex of her life, right?”

At that, Vernon looked straight to Wonwoo, and Wonwoo returned the enlarged, incinerating stare straight back, reading the split-second terror that swam like flopping fish in Vernon’s eyes. The atmosphere hit the ground with a palpable and ugly shatter.

“Yeah, um—about that—”

Mingyu then balanced backward on his foot for a moment, beginning to chuckle, sway his head, as though to dismiss the entire accusation in the same intense breadth it was mentioned.

“Nah, nah. I’m playing around,” the boy chuckled, rubbing at his nose. “You didn’t know she was taken. No hard feelings, yeah?”

Vernon immediately nodded his agreement, and the tension nailed into his broad shoulder line seemed to melt. “For sure. No hard feelings. I mean, she’s beautiful. Can’t even imagine what it’s like bein’ her boyfriend when you’ve got sluts like me around.”

Mingyu grinned, “no, you’re good. I know she gave you some attitude about it. Bit of a troublemaker herself. But, yeah. Water under the bridge.” The boy’s attention then turned back to Wonwoo, who was more than eager to somehow extinguish the conversation from you as a topic. “I know she’s hangs out with you right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wonwoo hummed, “the book thing.”

“She doesn’t like talking to me about it.”

“Well, don’t stress,” he answered, catching the sunlight that blitzed through the curtains and dipped like a gold paintbrush into the boy’s eyes, turning them to warm molasses, “she’ll show you the whole damn thing when it’s over and done with.”

Mingyu huffed, “I thought she’d have dropped it by now.”

“I don’t think she will. She’s pretty committed.”

“Hm.” He nodded simply in response, kissing his teeth.

Vernon folded his arms, leaning back into the leather seat with the toothpick again sitting in his mouth. “You got any plans for the summer, then? Doesn’t your pal always throw a huge party?”

“Yeah, actually. Doing it this year if we can manage. Seungcheol’s parents pretty much spend their entire summer bouncing around all the Great Lakes. We’re gonna do a co-hosting type deal and—shit, since you’re here, this is really good timing.” Mingyu then looked down at Vernon and lowered his gravelly voice. “I know what your main gig is. What about blow? You sell it?”

A slow but gradual, catlike grin trudged the edges of Vernon’s mouth, to which he pulled out his toothpick and set his elbows onto the table. “Look, can’t chop it up here, man. Ask one of your friends for my burner. I can get you to the ski slope, but it costs, obviously.”

“Nah, that’s fine. It’s just—my last plug fell through.”

“Tough.”

“Yeah. Okay, well, I should get going. I’ll follow up with you later. Do you care if Seungcheol knows the number, too?”

“No,” Vernon shrugged, planting the toothpick into the corner of his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, “just don’t go throwin’ it around. I could only get enough for a couple people, anyway.”

“All good. Okay—later, guys.”

Mingyu stepped away from the table with a wave and a flash of his pearled, charming smile, nothing but the mild scent of his fresh and expensive-smelling cologne to swirl through the now vacant space. In true espionage fashion, Wonwoo and Vernon both picked open the slots between the restaurant curtains, cautiously observing the boy’s stride into the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, where he at last disappeared into the warm, sunny afternoon.

Heaving a gigantic exhausted breath, Wonwoo took off his glasses and set them in his lap, massaging deep into his eye sockets.

“Y’know, he’s not that fuckin’ bad,” Vernon commented, “I mean, he scares the shit outta me, but that could have gone worse.”

"Jesus Christ—I can’t believe what I just watched.”

His friend laughed, banging his fist excitedly enough on the table to engender the silverware clattering on their plates. “Ha! I know, right? Dude—Seungcheol and Mingyu are the kingpins of that fuckin’ university you go to. They can cough up the big bucks for that shit. Just imagine the distribution pay I'm gonna get with them on my roster—actually, that couldn’t have gone better.”

“And where are you gonna get it?” Wonwoo pressured, at last settling his glasses back on, clarifying Vernon’s smudged, blurry face.

“Well, let me fuck around and work my magic.”

“I don’t want him to use you.”

“Pfft. I don’t give no fucks about being used,” Vernon cackled, wearing a self-indulgent, luminous smile and continuing to play around with the toothpick while he readied his wallet to pay. “You know what you should worry about, Glasses? Sweet talkin’ the fuck outta that dude’s girl and securin' yourself an invite. You probably don’t even need to try sweet talkin’—she obviously likes you.”

“No,” Wonwoo grumbled, “no way.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“Why would I want to go, dumbass? The last time I went to a party, I ran into you. They’re loud and suffocating. I’ll pass.” Wonwoo also pulled out his wallet, taking his card. “Besides, I get the sense Mingyu doesn’t trust me a whole lot. I’m not gonna stir the pot.”

Vernon shook his head. “You stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street. N’yeah, exactly. You met me. I don’t get the fuss.”

“It’s nothing like that," Wonwoo answered in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a Patron Saint. I just want my Life Saver.”

—MAY 19TH.

Wonwoo was going to your apartment today for the first time, and it had nearly killed him in the process.

His abhorrent sleep schedule hung over his head every single instance he woke up at lunchtime, the entirety of his mornings wasted to weathered heartbreak and its lasting, stained consequences. Needing to be at your apartment for ten had Wonwoo buckling his face into anguished hands the night before, wondering how he was going to pull off such a triumph without wishing for death.

He did know one thing for certain—the sound of his alarm erupting into its timely, strident beeping made him instantly sick. In fact, the first thing Wonwoo did was half-stumble in complete bleariness out from his bed, dragging a white sheet along by his ankle as he burst into the washroom and hung his head over the toilet like he was sweating through a wicked hangover. But it wasn’t alcohol. It was months of bad, soul-stitched habit festered up in stomach bile and perhaps, a hatred for himself. It was his own fault, in a way.

And yet, when you texted him a half-hour later to reconfirm your address, Wonwoo replied with not the slightest hint that he was feeling pretty fucking terrible. The headache and shudders followed him down the street, onto the bus, and into the lobby of your notably opulent apartment complex. He felt rather incongruous amongst all the marble—the white trim, the clean, untainted air, even the breakfast table with dispensable lemon water and small, fruit-topped pastries that somehow made Wonwoo want to kill himself.

He looked down at his phone.

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: 717 thorton street, unit 61

[ Her | 9:45 am ]: are you almost here? :)

Wonwoo pressed the button to the elevator.

[ Wonwoo | 9:50 am ]: Yes. In the building.

His phone vibrated immediately with a text.

[ Her | 9:50 am ]: I’m so excited

The doors pulled apart. Wonwoo stepped aside for a couple who were leaving the elevator before he entered. Quickly, he clicked the button to close the doors, not wanting to share the space with anyone but himself and the headache throbbing at the forefront of his cranium. He sighed, glancing at his texts again to reply.

[ Wonwoo | 9:51 am ]: Do you have any Tylenol?

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: most def

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: what’s wrong?

[ Wonwoo | 9:52 am ]: Nothing much. Just a headache.

When he didn’t receive an immediate answer, he assumed you had put the phone down to search your medicine cabinet. Getting off the elevator, Wonwoo proceeded to find the correct apartment. He put his fist up to the door, and then, at the last second, stopped.

There it was again—the same melting pot of anxiety and butterflies that had bubbled up when you first visited his place.

He supposed the feelings never truly disappeared each time he would see you, and he was beginning to detest it. Why couldn’t his body just adapt? Get over it? What purpose did it serve to constantly remind him of his unkempt emotions? It was like the idea of you terrified him more than you as an actual person, because in person, he felt comfort, as crazy as it sounded. So why couldn’t his anxiety and security just complete that stupid sliver of a synapse for once?

Knock knock.

After a moment, the handle clicked, and the door to sumptuous unit 61 was pulled open. For the first time, Wonwoo saw your face without any makeup, and it sort of made him stutter in his words—not that he was shocked in abhorrence at the contrast, more so the vulnerability behind it, the fact you felt comfortable enough to shed your compulsion with always presenting a perfect, glamoured face. He was pleased to see you were in a fuzzy pair of pink shorts and a white, thin long-sleeve that were basically pyjamas.

Maybe it was weird to think, but you seemed more human.

“You made good timing. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo answered while stepping inside, toeing off his sneakers next to your plethora of shoes at the doormat.

“I would obviously say tour first, but I have your Tylenol sitting on the counter over here, for your headache. Can you dry swallow or do you need water?”

“Dry swallow?” Wonwoo laughed, following you toward the kitchen area. “Who the fuck dry swallows any sort of pill?”

“I don’t know! Personally, I don’t. But there are some freaks out there who do. I was actually testing you. And you passed.”

“Lucky me,” he sighed.

Taking a seat at one of stools displayed around the large, granite-surface island, Wonwoo waited for you to pour him some water. Obviously, the apartment was spacious, gorgeous—the large, white-fluffed rug in the centre of the living room was definitely suited to you, though he was surprised by the tall, lush potted plants aligned by the window panelling. He didn’t know you had a green thumb.

While placing down the water, you shifted closely into the seat beside him, and Wonwoo could smell the scent of strawberries on your skin. You let your chin press into the hammock made with your hands, watching as he set the pill on his tongue and gulped it down.

“So, is it really bad?”

Wonwoo turned the glass back and forth atop its coaster, deciding on whether or not he should tell the truth. It always tended to sting him when he lied, and so he turned to you, shrugging.

“I felt it when I woke up. But it’s manageable.”

“Oh, I get that sometimes.”

“It’s because of my repulsive sleep schedule, no doubt.”

You smiled at him, adjusting your leg under the island.

“Is that why you prefer afternoons all the time?”

“Pretty much. It’s a horrible habit. I’ll break it somehow, I’m sure. Just a stupid hump to get over. Anyway—” Wonwoo slung the laptop bag off his shoulder and onto the counter, “—your place looks pretty sweet. How are you? What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” you hummed, slapping an arm down onto the reflective granite, “I’ve wrote some more this week. I’d love for you to proofread it. Maybe we can go out for lunch later, but you’d need to give me time to get ready. I mean, I did shower this morning…”

He watched you pause, and then swallow. "You don’t care, do you?”

“About what?” Wonwoo answered.

“Oh, well—never mind, then.”

“No, what is it? What don’t I care about?”

You started to grin, hiding half your face with a hand that slowly scraped across your cheek, as though to rub off any remaining lethargy from the morning light. Wonwoo waited for you to answer.

“… I look like a mole.”

He at last realized what you meant.

“No, you don’t.”

“I was just feeling lazy. I know, gasp, what an insane word to come from my mouth. But I’m glad you don’t care. I didn’t think you would, but I still wasn’t sure. At least your reaction wasn’t obvious. My chin is breaking out so please don’t stare at it, if you can help it.”

“Oh, well, you know, you look—” that one banished word almost slipped, but Wonwoo smoothly mended the break, “you—you have nothing to worry about. I get breakouts, too. It sucks, but it’s life.”

Your bare, soft face turned cheerful in a fawning smile.

“I know. I guess I'm just not very used to the feeling of people seeing me like this. Did you want to do lunch later?”

Wonwoo leaned back in the small seat, running his hands up his knees, knowing damn well he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Uh, I should probably start with like, cereal or something.”

“You didn’t eat?”

“No appetite.”

“I’ll fix you something. Unfortunately, no cereal. But I'll get some the next time Mingyu and I do groceries. So, what do you like best? Toast? Oatmeal? Scrambled eggs and toast? Orange juice? Bagel?”

At the mere mention of orange juice, his fist clenched. Attempting not to dwell so obviously, Wonwoo straightened up and smiled.

“I like toast.”

“That’s good. It’ll be easy on your stomach.”

Wonwoo watched you squeeze off the stool and open the fridge to pull out a plastic bag of bread. He watched you stand on your tiptoes to reach into the highest cupboard and grab a plate. He watched you pop open a jar of fresh raspberry jam and slot the bread into the toaster. He could watch you do anything, it seemed.

Anything at all.

It took Wonwoo about half an hour to eat his raspberry toast and skim through the newest additions to your document. You were getting more into the thick of your relationship with Mingyu—just as you’d warned—but Wonwoo was able to gloss most cloying paragraphs without too much bitterness or personal weight clouding his possible critiques. Wonwoo was still seated at the island, meanwhile you were lying face down on the plump-cushioned couch, an arm dangling off the side. In a morbid way, you looked very much dead if not for the shallow rising and dipping of your back.

“Done, for the most part.”

Your head perked up, and he was relieved to see you hadn’t fallen asleep or suffocated. “When will you add your notes?”

“After lunch. Is that okay?”

“Mmhm.”

“So…” Wonwoo slid down in the chair, reaching out his arms with a gigantic yawn, “you actually snuck into his basketball game?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, letting your chin snuggle into the blanket strewn underneath you, “I was obsessed with him. I couldn’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t expect your first date to be at the nature museum. The way you wrote about the butterfly exhibit was nice, though.”

“It was fun. Mingyu wasn’t the biggest fan, but I had always wanted to go. There was this huge skeleton of a blue whale, and sometimes the museum would play the whale’s ballad—” you flopped onto your back, staring up at the ceiling with a tender, ardent laugh as your fingers twirled the fluffy knots of the throw, “—it used to scare Mingyu so bad. He kept telling me he was gonna leave our date unless we went to another exhibit.”

“The sound can be pretty jarring if you’ve never heard it before, to be fair,” Wonwoo reasoned, now massaging down his legs.

Shoving your body to sit upright on the couch, you poked out your tongue at him, grinning, “don’t defend his loserness.”

He huffed in response, “my bad.”

“Should we do a tour now? I really want to show you my room. And if I keep lying on the couch, I’ll fall asleep.”

“Uh, sure. Do you want me to wash my plate?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just leave it in the sink.”

After Wonwoo cleaned off the granite island, he came to join you in the living room, the white rug resembling what he imagined a cloud to feel like underneath his socked feet.

A thought had suddenly popped into his head.

“There’s a nature museum here, too.”

You grabbed the blanket, wearing it like a shawl around your shoulders. Wonwoo had never seen you so sleepy before.

“I know.”

“Have you ever gone?”

“No. Not at all. I did ask Mingyu once when we first came here for university. But I think he was still mortified from the whale thing. I dunno. Anyway, is that your round-about way of asking if I ever want to go? Because I would, to help with the story.”

Wonwoo scratched along his collarbone, heated with the itch of being blatantly exposed for his plotting. However, he hadn’t suggested the museum with the intention of employing it as a visual to sharpen up your scene-work. He was hoping to go just for the sake of it—like a palate cleanser, as you had previously mentioned.

But he obviously wasn’t going to articulate that.

“We can plan it more later,” he said.

The tour started in the living room, which Wonwoo had become well acquainted with throughout his half hour of sitting at the kitchen island, occasionally flicking his eyes toward the couch to ensure you were still alive. You explained that the pristine white rug was a housewarming gift from Mingyu’s parents when you first moved into the apartment, and he felt guilty for even stepping on it.

He decided to ask about the plants by the windows.

“Oh, I don’t actually look after those,” you answered, touching at one of the heavy and balmy-looking green leaves from a plant nearly as tall as you, “Seokmin comes over to water them and stuff, gives them special nutrient food—even sprays their leaves with this misty bottle thing. I tried giving them all to him, but he says he’s got no space at his apartment—which is total bull by the way.”

“Maybe he just wants an excuse to see you.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “doesn’t everyone?”

Wonwoo bit back a stupid little smile as he followed you into your bedroom—the place you seemed most enthralled for him to finally see. You twirled into the open space and threw the blanket off your shoulders, then whipping your hands into the air akin to a magician who’d just performed the most grandiose magic trick.

“Tada! Bedroom reveal!”

He pushed up his glasses, taking a good, solid look around at everything he could: the prestigious makeup vanity with the drawers left half-open, your dresser, lined with photographs of what he assumed to be friends, family, and Mingyu, the beaded, dangling chandelier, the ajar closet doors that revealed your unsurprising magnitude of outfits—skirts and dresses and professional blazers and lascivious things from threads of lace and silk. He finally looked to your beautiful bed, which you proceeded to flop onto.

“This is my favourite part,” you hummed.

Taking some further steps into the bedroom, Wonwoo began recognizing smaller details, though he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. He always thought a bedroom was such a personal, intimate space, like a treasure chest stuffed with memories and pieces of person’s essence that couldn’t be captured using words alone. To sit on someone’s bed, or sift through their drawers for a pen, or even grab a shirt from their closet—he felt it was all so… sacred. It was the reason he had such a hard time having others in his bedroom.

“The bed is your favourite?” He wondered.

“Yes,” you giggled, a glimmer flashing into your eyes like diamonds in the sun as you climbed onto your knees.

Before Wonwoo knew what was happening, you had clutched a hand into his shirt and jerked him toward the covers. He landed beside you, and his heart thrust with electricity.

“You could have just asked me to sit,” he chuckled, wiping some wrinkles off his shirt and adjusting his glasses.

“Nope.”

“Bed’s comfy.”

“Duh,” you sunk backward, smirking at him, “it’s a bed.”

“Hey, you should have seen the bed I had growing up in Changwon. My older brother and I, we hated it. Shit was like sleeping on a piece of cardboard. It didn’t get better for years.”

Propping your head onto a pillow, you continued to smile prettily at him with those entrancing eyes, and for a second, this piercing fear struck in the core of Wonwoo’s chest that he had just spoke about himself—actually spoke about himself—in a manner that screamed of vulnerability. He felt terror. Why did he do that?

“Hm. I guess I’m just spoiled, with my memory foam and all.”

At least you didn’t push into the topic. You were getting better at that, almost like you could interpret the subtle tweaks in his face or the stiffening of his bones. Wonwoo rested his elbows on his knees.

“Your room’s nice. It smells like you.”

He heard you giggle, “what? Like strawberries?”

Wonwoo pursed his lip, looked down at his fingers. “Yeah…”

For a moment, his eyes lingered unfaithfully on your exposed midriff, down to the fluffy hem of those pink lounge shorts. He squeezed his wrist tight, practically stopping his own blood flow, willing himself not to think anything unhinged that would simmer up to fuel his self-hatred later. The longer your head spent sinking into that plump pillow, the more your lids fluttered with sleep. As he continued to gaze about the room, he spotted the pink stuffed bear that he’d won you at the Spring Street Fair, sitting atop your bedside table.

“You’ve still got that?”

“Hm?” You pushed up onto your elbows, yawning. “Oh, yeah! ‘Course I still have her. It’s a perfect little memento from that night.”

“Well, I did go through a lot of effort to win it.”

“Oh, I’m aware... wanna know what I named her?”

“What?”

“Miss Priss.”

Honestly, Wonwoo was surprised you hadn’t stuffed it into your closet or abandoned the toy in some innocuous corner of your apartment. Instead the bear’s vibrant pink face and slightly lopsided eyes were staring him down, making him rerun Vernon’s words in his head: ‘you stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street.’

Wonwoo immediately shoved the memory aside, letting the implications sizzle up and burn on the hot coals of his brain.

“Hm. Funny.”

You rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo tapped his wrist, thinking.

“So, uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but why don’t you live with Mingyu? I know he stays over some nights.”

Lifting yourself up with one arm, you shrugged, opting to stroke a hand along the blanket to smooth out some crinkles. “I don’t want to move in with anyone unless I’m engaged.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. I mean, that's what I told my parents, at least. They used to really push for us to have an apartment together. Which makes sense. They freaking love him. I swear, more than me," you laughed, picking at your shirt. "I get it, too. Mingyu and I have pretty much been tied at the hip all these years. But we agreed that we wouldn't live together until things went to the next level. He does keep a lot of his stuff here for when he does stay over, and vice versa. He’s got an extra key and everything, his own nightstand, bathroom stuff.”

“And that’s for certain?”

You tilted your head. “What’s for certain?”

“The engagement thing. Or was it just to shake off your parents?”

“Well… I guess I mean it. Is that weird to you?”

“No,” Wonwoo said. “I personally haven't heard it plenty.”

“Yeah, most people are surprised to learn we don’t live together. I guess we really give off the impression that we're together in most things, if not everything. It's good to get a little space, though."

“Well, I understand it—wanting to have your own space. I mean, I think everyone should try living alone, just once if they have to. You learn more about yourself, I suppose.”

You cracked a smile at him. “What have you learned?”

Wonwoo chuckled, knowing all the things he could never say were tingling right on the tip of his tongue. “Well, I meant in a general sense. I wasn't exactly talking about myself.”

“Ha—you learned how to be a hermit.”

“I'm pretty sure I was always like that.”

“Yeah, but probably not that bad.”

“That bad?” He furrowed his dark brows at you, staring straight into your eyes that twinkled with challenge. “Meaning what?”

“Please, you would not leave that apartment if it wasn’t for your commitment to the book. Maybe for work, some groceries every now and then. Otherwise, your ass is not leaving.”

“Damn. Just call me a loser.”

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing up onto your knees, “loser.”

Wonwoo managed to hold the penetrating, spirited strength of your gaze, and he was proud of himself for doing so, even if his heart felt like it was going to leap into his throat. It was still difficult for him to be routinely engaged in eye contact, but he knew how much you appreciated it—the feeling of being listened to and experiencing someone’s dedication to presenting their full attention.

Since it was getting close to lunch time, Wonwoo figured you might want to start thinking of where to eat. He was getting notably hungry, and having to function off some toast coated thinly in raspberry jam wouldn’t be enough to power him throughout his proofreading. He pulled out his phone, wanting to check the time, and began sliding off your comfortable, warm bed.

“Did you want to—”

“Hey, wait, wait, wait—” Wonwoo felt your hand curl around his bicep in a firm grip and begin to pull him back down, “—before we get up and everything, I want to talk to you about something.”

Oh no.

His stomach writhed.

Wonwoo started praying it wasn’t about his and Vernon’s encounter with Mingyu at Solar Pop—not that anything particularly terrible or concerning had happened—but maybe Mingyu had mentioned something to you. Maybe he didn’t like Wonwoo and thought it was best you stop writing together, stop seeing each other.

His mind started quivering with a steadfast hurricane of awful thought and Wonwoo knew the flushed colour had most likely drained from his face as quickly as a popped balloon.

Your hand remained on his bicep, squeezing it.

“Why do you look so worried, already?” You chuckled in a quiet voice, rubbing his arm until Wonwoo visibly relaxed. “I haven’t even said anything yet. Unless, you think I should be worried, too.”

“No.” Wonwoo shook his head. “Just—never mind.”

“Hm, well, that’s kind of what I want to talk about.”

As your hand drifted off his arm, Wonwoo sat crossed-legged, narrowing his eyes at you in question. “What do you mean?”

The conversation began with a clunk of silence, to which you glanced down at the bed for a moment, clearly biting on your inner cheek in contemplation. Wonwoo desperately wanted you to spit it out. He hated when empty words hung so burdensomely in the air.

“Well… there’s no easy way to bring it up. And I’m not sure you’ll even want to talk about it with me, but I keep noticing it, again and again. I think it’s at least worth it to put it on the table. And, if it’s not my business, you can freely tell me to screw off.”

“Oh… okay.”

And then you were looking at him, not with any sort of accusation or anger or even disappointment. Somehow, Wonwoo knew what you were going to say, and he braced himself for it.

“Do you… do you have anxiety?”

Wonwoo said nothing. He wasn’t sure if it was an issue of not wanting to speak or being unable to.

You breathed out heavily in response.

“Okay, silence, I definitely saw that coming—but, um, I’m not stupid, you know? Your face just gets so pale, and I feel like I can see the heartbeat in your chest… and you always do that thing with your fist. Clenching it. It always looks so painful but you never seem to care and—anyway—I just… I can tell when it happens and it kind of bothers me that you try to like, shrug it off or call it ‘spacing out’ when it’s really clearly not. And, maybe that’s my fault.”

His gaze had shifted to lock with yours.

Again, you weren’t staring at him with any malice or dejection—he’d come to learn that your eyes were actually quite soft most of the time, soft but always glittering, like a handful of silk. Still, Wonwoo couldn’t yet find his words, which must have come across as remarkably shocking for someone who spent their whole life grabbing all the shiny bits of possible vernacular.

You sat up straighter, touching his knee.

“Is it my fault you don’t want to talk about it? Can I at least know that much?” There was an imploring desperation in your face.

Wonwoo at last cleared his throat.

“I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“Okay, I get that. But, did I make you feel like you couldn’t bring it up? At all?” Your fingers dug a little harder into his knee, though Wonwoo knew you probably hadn’t realized it. “I just—I do want to know, actually. Because sometimes I let myself get in the way of being present for other people. But I care. I honestly do.”

He nodded, cracking his knuckles.

“I mean… I definitely wouldn’t have thought to bring it up with you. I guess I felt like, if I did, what would it accomplish? You might think I’m incapable or… I don’t know.” He shoved his hands underneath his glasses, rubbing at the indents on his nose. “As you can see, I’m not the best at talking about it. I don’t talk about it.”

You folded your legs in similar fashion to Wonwoo.

“Well… um… do you… is there anyone that could, like… I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess, are you coping alright, is what I’m asking. I really don’t mean to overstep. I swear.”

At that, he chuckled quite loudly. Your face twitched in surprise at his reaction, and the hand slipped off his knee.

“It really doesn’t matter. I just deal with it.”

No. He took nothing. He did nothing. Wonwoo just sat and suffered and felt no initiative to help himself. At that point, he really didn’t want to dissect the topic any further. He could sense the slithering under his skin, the way his body physically bristled like a perturbed cat at the thought of having to be any more open than what he'd already shared. The choices he made in his life weren’t important if he was going to end up back in the same slippery trench.

“Oh. Well, I hope you take care of yourself,” you said with a smile, giving his bicep another gentle squeeze. “That’s all.”

—JUNE 2ND.

About two weeks had passed since Wonwoo visited your apartment. Afterward, you had met up four times to continue writing and making small ventures to places that you deemed vital for developing your story. Wonwoo found himself enjoying most trips.

He remembered the ice cream shop. Apparently, it was the date where Mingyu had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had gotten their most popular strawberry cheesecake flavour while Wonwoo ordered mint chocolate chip, which was a rather boring but favourite classic of his. No doubt, you sat across from him on their outside patio the entire time, pitting remarks about how awful his choice was in lieu of writing anything down in your document. With every spoonful he ate, Wonwoo had to keep reminding you to stay focused, and eventually, his repetitious ordering worked.

"Did you actually come here to get any writing done or did you just want the ice cream? We're not palate-cleansing are we?"

"Why can't two things be true at once?"

“Can I see your laptop?”

“No—hey! Don’t try to grab it!”

“Why? Because you’ve written fuck all?”

"For your information, I have a bullet-point list going."

"Oh, yeah. A bullet-point list, hm?"

"Yes. It has all my major writing points. Point number one: Mingyu seats me down at the table. He's clearly nervous. We've only been in the shop for a minute or two and he won't stop brushing his hair behind his ears. Point number two: Mingyu grabs our ice cream from the counter. He gives me his flavour, rocky road, by accident, and then we awkwardly laugh and switch. Point number three: I remember thinking his nerves were endearing, and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it."

"Exactly. Let this be a lesson in poor assumption. Don't try to assume anything about me, Wonwoo. It's probably wrong."

And then there had been the journey to Mooney’s Bay, one of the most well-known beaches outside the city—probably because the lake actually looked a clean, salty blue and the soft sand wasn’t littered with drifting pieces of plastic. It had been the first place Wonwoo took his brother when he came to visit from his office in Korea, and the picture they had taken together with their pant legs cuffed up, standing knee deep in the water, was still pinned to the corkboard in Wonwoo’s bedroom. However, Wonwoo hadn’t been back to the beach since, until you dragged him there in an hour-long car ride. He had mostly looked out the window, thinking, as always.

You said that Mooney’s Bay reminded you of a cove from your hometown, a more clandestine one, where you and Mingyu used to splash around in the isolated, iridescent waters at night, laughing into the chilled breeze and coughing up all the liquid splatted into the other’s face. Wonwoo had used the video camera to record some footage of the beach per your request. By evening, most people had packed up their coolers and umbrellas and sun towels, granting him more freedom to film wider, panned shots. He remembered standing at the foam shoreline, feeling the sand squelch wetly under his bare feet, recording you wading further and deeper into the water that reflected like a bleeding, scarlet portrait of stained glass.

“It feels amazing! You should come in!”

“I can’t. It’ll ruin the camcorder.”

“So put it down! In the bag! There’s enough footage.”

“But the sun is setting behind you. It makes for a good shot.”

"So just hurry up! The water is the perfect temperature."

"But—"

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

"Well, I don't know... I, uh—I can't swim."

"This isn't swimming, this is wading. Just go up to your knees. It's been a hot, long day. I think this will help get the scowl off your face."

“… Fine. At least give me a second to fix my pants.”

The third location, while not his favourite, had been an open bar that was conveniently placed a few streets over from his job at the pharmacy. Wonwoo had went there a number of times with Vernon in the past, usually after he finished a midterm or handed in some grating assignment, though Vernon tended to drink more than his body could sufficiently handle. By the end of the night, Wonwoo would most often find himself being a mediator between his tattooed, foul-mouthed friend and whatever blundering, equally drunk idiot he happened to be arguing with.

It was too much for his anxiety.

Nonetheless, he’d met you there after work despite the churning cauldron of memories that he harboured, unsurprised to find you seated at a small table swarmed with dewy drinks and shots that interested observers had sent over. Wonwoo felt each digging, plying stare that sculpted against his back as he sat beside you—he even choked down one of your retched tequila shots (while not the best idea), hoping it would mellow him out.

You never really explained why the bar was pertinent to your history with Mingyu—or, maybe you had, and Wonwoo was simply one flaming shot past coherent of properly digesting your words. He did, however, remember your entire, almost scientific explanation of why you liked wearing low-cut or heavily revealing tops at the bar, and Wonwoo had listened along as best he could manage, even when that floating sensation started hazing through his mind. At one point, this girl who Wonwoo had never encountered once in his life came up to him with a polite tap on his shoulder and an inquiring smile.

“Hey—sorry to intrude—and this may be a super dumb question, but you are guys together?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s single.”

“Oh, perfect. I was just—I was sitting over there, in the corner with my friends, if you can see. Anyways—I said something dumb about how you were really good looking, and now I’ve been dared to come up and ask for your number. So, um, yeah…”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“O-Oh. Wait… are you… being serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is really fucking embarrassing… uh, I guess I won’t linger then. Bye.”

“… Jeez… had a bit much to drink or something?”

“No—just don’t like giving out my number to strangers.”

“She was cute, though. Probably a fun one-night stand.”

“Then you have sex with her, yeah?”

“Ha! You’re so funny. When’s the last time you even had sex? I mean, you obviously pull. At least, I think you do…”

“I don’t remember. Months and months ago, I guess.”

“Wow! Zero play. I kind of respect it. I could never, though. So… actually, let me guess: you’re the type of person that can’t have sex without attachment? You need to be in love?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t know.”

“God. You’re so fucking boring, Wonwoo.”

“Because I don’t go out of my way to find some pretty girl to have sex with every week, I’m boring? How does that make sense?”

“No, not that. I mean the fact you never really want to discuss anything about yourself. Honestly, sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth, y’know? Anyway, move back a little. Backwards cap with the earrings has been staring on and off for the last ten minutes and I want one more free shot before I call it a night.”

The most recent place you had been together was the popular drive-in at Richmond’s Farm. Wonwoo knew that in the autumn months leading up to Halloween, the venue was turned into a haunted carnival with all the typical attractions: pumpkin patches, horror movie screenings, corn mazes, and masked, fake blood-spattered psychopaths chasing people around with a roaring chainsaw.

Seokmin, despite being quite weak-stomached and completely disastrous when it came to anything horror-related, had actually implored Wonwoo to go the year before after hearing the raves about their newest House of Nightmares, although Wonwoo declined in order to study for a test.

Really, there was no test.

Wonwoo just hadn’t been in the mood for losing all his hair and being crammed into pitch black, narrow corridors with a murderer promptly waiting around the corner. He hoped Seokmin wouldn’t ask him again this year—then his excuse would be obvious.

In the spring and summer, however, the farm mostly broadcast screenings at their drive-in theatre behind the maize field, and you had leaped at the opportunity to go because it was the perfect chance to relive one of your favourite dates with Mingyu. By your explanation, he’d taken you to see Crazy, Stupid, Love before you two had departed your hometown for university. But the drive-in obviously wasn’t playing that movie, and so you two had to settle for watching their only available screening, 500 Days of Summer.

Wonwoo hated that movie.

Of course, he hadn’t told you that.

Before the movie had started, Wonwoo helped you throw down a blanket into your trunk alongside some couch pillows that you grabbed from your apartment, creating a makeshift lounge in the rear of the car. Since the screening was late at night—and way past your typical good girl bedtime—you were worried about falling asleep halfway into the movie, though Wonwoo promised he would keep an eye on you to ensure you wouldn’t miss anything important.

Since it was too dark to film anything of quality on the camcorder, Wonwoo left you alone in the blanket-pillow trunk to scribble down any nostalgic, limerent sentiments while he grabbed some snacks. You had told him to get gummy bears, because you hated the way broken pieces of popcorn kernel shells would sliver between your teeth and dig into your gums, neither did you want a soft drink since it would be an abundance of sugar before bed, and it always resulted in a breakout the next morning. He was able to make it back to the car just before the screening started.

He remembered how strange it all seemed, sitting so close to you underneath the blanket, occasionally feeling your elbow dig into his arm or your knee bump his thigh, and the sharp blip it would cause in his pulse. Wonwoo remembered how often you complained about the temperature throughout the movie—first, it’s too hot, now, it’s too cold, you’re too close to me, you’re too far away and I’m cold again, I need the blanket, I don’t want the blanket—Wonwoo hadn’t realized a person’s body temperature could fluctuate that drastically.

However, the worst part of that night happened about half an hour before the movie ended, just when Wonwoo was beginning to feel relieved about going home. You were getting sleepier by the minute, and Wonwoo could tell from the yawning every now and then, wanting desperately to rub at your eyes but refusing because it would smother the mascara into somewhat concerning, black whorls.

You had nudged his arm, and when he glanced over at your face, exhausted and half-illuminated under the watery, bright cast of light from the screen, you asked him in a quiet, dulcet voice: “is it okay if I rest my head on your shoulder for a few minutes?”

Wonwoo had wanted to say no—of course you can’t, because if you do, I will sit here stiff, and hardly breathing, and listening only to my own heartbeat. It will be the sole thing I’ll think about for the next three days no matter what I do to mask the memory. I’ll keep thinking about it until you burn out in my mind like a star.

But then Wonwoo had agreed instead.

He proceeded to clench his fist upon feeling the weight of your head sink softly to his shoulder. Your legs had been curled up underneath you, and your knees were then pressing flush against his leg. Every breath he inhaled was faintly tainted with the scent of your sweet, fragrant shampoo and it was fucking killing him.

“You’re so tense,” you had whispered in a giggle, “if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t have to. It’s just because I’m tired.”

“No—” it had come out somewhat like a blurt, and Wonwoo just knew the tips of his ears were tingling red, “—it’s okay. I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure… what?”

“Just wanted to look in your eyes when you said it.”

“Fuck, not that again.”

“I have to know!”

“Okay, that’s fine. Movie’s almost over, anyway. Just don’t fall asleep because then I really won’t know what to do.”

That had been four days ago.

Now, it was almost midnight. Wonwoo was sitting on the roof of his apartment with a messily rolled up blunt in his fingers—the second one he prepared, mostly out of impatience—drawing in a slow and deep breath that ghosted from his lips like wispy fog flowing down a shallow hill. He then coughed twice by his elbow, attempting to clear the stinging prickle that caught against his throat.

“You’re so fucking full of it,” Wonwoo laughed.

“No! I’m not.”

“You did not write thirty pages in a day.”

“Uh—actually, I did! And the fact you don’t believe me is a testament to your own wilted motivation. I am very motivated.”

He smiled at the sound of your voice crackling through his phone, which he’d been holding with the latter hand. Breathing in another hit, Wonwoo pulled at the sides of his black beanie, grinning through the thin cloud that was exhaled in a quick, neat puff.

“Okay, you wrote thirty pages. Didn’t have to fucking drag my career through the mud in doing so. I mean, I guess it’s a hobby.”

“For all I know, you’re the biggest poser that ever posed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I still don’t know what you write about.”

“I told you.”

“No—you fucking didn’t. You said something vague and ambiguous that could have meant literally anything. All I had to go off were some sing-songy praises from Seokmin.”

“I give you pretty good notes, though.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So I must be decent.”

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you. I was supposed to be in bed, like, an hour ago. You’re such a distraction.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, tapping the warm blunt to knock off a clump of papery ash, “it’s been an hour already?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know why you called either.”

“To complain about that lady whose makeup I had to do today! She was horrible. God, were you not listening?!”

“No, no, I was. She told you the makeup she wanted, you said it wouldn’t suit her too well, and then she got all pissed off when it looked exactly how you said it would. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Well… I just thought you should know about it.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence followed his velvet, almost teasing hum, but Wonwoo didn’t mind it, and he assumed you didn’t either. Your phone call had been completely out of the blue, only a few minutes after he’d climbed onto the roof and started sparking his lighter. An hour had already passed—Wonwoo couldn’t believe it. Time had never seemed so blurred and insignificant before, like tomorrow didn’t exist at all.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Wonwoo repositioned the phone in his hand.

“From time to time, yeah.”

“What strain?”

“Northern Lights.”

“I’ve never had that one. I mean, I’m not much of a stoner, and neither is Mingyu. I don’t like the way it feels in my throat—that dry, burning feeling. And I hate the cotton mouth afterward.”

“Shouldn’t be that bad if you’re inhaling it right.”

“Well, maybe you can teach me one day.”

He let the blunt hang from the corner of his mouth for a moment, a very fluttery-feeling smile taking shape. Not wanting you to hear that slight bit of giddiness in his tone, Wonwoo took another hit, holding the smoke in for longer than usual before exhaling.

“Do you, uh… do you still want to go to that museum?”

“Oh—the nature museum?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have to do some poking around in my schedule. I have this stupid leadership council meeting for SSA that I have to go to.”

“That’s fine. Text me when you figure it out.”

“Okay… gosh, it’s really fucking late.”

“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”

“Are you pushing me off the phone? If anything, I should be the one pushing. You’re not doing anything to fix your terrible sleep schedule. And I certainly don’t want you to ruin mine.”

“That’s what I’m saying—you need to get some sleep.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“How did I say it?”

“Like you were pushing me off the phone!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. How ‘bout this: I know how important structure is to you, and I am deeply concerned that this late night conversation we’re having may somewhat affect your sleep. And while I’ve thoroughly enjoyed talking to you and hearing your pretty voice through my shitty phone speaker, I think we should both go to bed.”

“That seems fair.”

“Great. So, goodnight then.”

“No! I want to be the first one to say goodnight.”

“Why?”

“Because, I say goodnight, then you say goodnight back, and then I get to be the one who hangs up first. It’s a courtesy thing.”

“Uh, okay then... I’m listening.”

“Goodnight!”

Wonwoo smiled. He smiled so fucking widely and brightly that he could feel the muscles in his face aching.

“Goodnight.”

—JUNE 7TH.

Since the quickest route to the nature museum was about half an hour from Wonwoo’s apartment, he suggested that you stop by around lunch time so that you two could make the walk together. It wasn’t too warm outside—the large smattering of clouds dotted in the sky and the typical city breeze helped to keep the temperature down.

“We’re not allowed to film in the museum,” you said from your seat at his small dinner table, “so don’t bother taking the camcorder, I guess. I’ll just try to soak up everything as best I can.”

Wonwoo was sat across from you, waiting for you to finish the heated-up carton box of creamy mushroom pasta that you’d raided out his freezer. He’d tried his best to eat beforehand as well, but the most he could stomach was some milk and cereal in addition a handful of blueberries. It was still better than his usual routine, which involved skipping any sort of meal post lunchtime.

“If you really needed to, I’m sure you could take a couple pictures,” Wonwoo answered, brushing a hand through his styled, pristine black hair that you had earlier littered with a flustering spiel of compliments. “I doubt the exhibits will be exactly the same, but if it's more so to capture the feeling, then it won’t matter much.”

You patted the corner of your mouth upon finishing the last few noodles left in the box, nodding your head in agreement.

“My journal’s in my bag. It should be fine.”

Wonwoo flipped over his phone to check the time.

“How was the SSA meeting yesterday?”

“Oh—I didn’t go.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asked while settling back in his chair, watching you toss the fork into the carton. “How come?”

“Because, it’s mostly pointless. We always sit there, in front of all those old, crusty men, trying to explain to them how we can improve the campus, the student experience, blah blah. And they act like they’re legitimately consuming our input, using phrases like: ‘oh, we hear you, we understand, we’re gonna try our hardest’—just for them to put, what? Another fucking seating area in the dining hall that no one asked for or cares about? It’s totally ridiculous.”

“Hm, yeah.”

“Anyways, I hate being on it. I hate going. I understand it looks good and whatnot, but it’s a huge waste of my time.”

Wonwoo picked up the pasta box, continuing to hum his agreement while taking it into the kitchen. He dropped the fork into the sink and folded up the cardboard to stuff into his recycling.

“It’s one meeting. A skip won’t kill you, or them.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Mingyu thinks I went, though. So, if you run into him or something and the topic fucking miraculously pops up—just don’t give anything away. It’s a little white lie.”

Coming back to the dining table, Wonwoo snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, raising an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

You pushed back in the chair, sighing heavily.

“He really thinks I should stick with it.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything in response. He simply nodded, not wanting to hover on Mingyu as a conversation piece for too long, and waited for you to shoulder on your purse.

“Okay,” you then smiled, “let’s go look at some nature.”

Despite their boring, lacklustre reputation, Wonwoo had always enjoyed going to museums—art, history, science—he’d even been to a museum that delved into ancient coin minting and the development of currency. He supposed it was his appreciation for learning new information of his own free will, unlike the fast-paced, passion-draining, wringer system that was university. Furthermore, he was surprised that you would share his interest in the matter.

“Why wouldn’t I like museums?” You had stopped just before the acclaimed beetle species wall, aglow behind a glass sheet. “I wrote in my draft that Mingyu and I went to a nature museum, remember?”

“I know. I’m just surprised you have that much of an interest in them. Your life seems so upbeat. I didn’t think you would be into something that most people find fairly dry and anticlimactic.”

“Right.” Twirling back around, you continued walking down the corridor, your eyes tracing the organized arrangement of lustre-shelled beetles. “Because everyone else is too stupid and you’re the true upper echelon who actually possesses the mental capability required to appreciate something as seemingly trivial but totally enriching as…” you then paused at the glass, squinting to read the embossed label below an oblong-shaped beetle with an iridescent green shell, “… as the Chrysochroa Fulgidissima? I don’t know, something like that—also known as the Jewel Beetle. Its species is native to Japan and Korea. It’s a… woodboring beetle?”

“Why would I know?” Wonwoo laughed, coming to stand beside you and look at the plaque settled to the white background behind the display glass. “You’re the one reading it.”

“Ugh—doesn’t matter. I was going somewhere with my speech and now I forget… oh, yeah! So, you think you’re smarter than me?”

Placing a gentle hand on your lower back, Wonwoo urged you to keep walking forward in order to let the people faintly mumbling behind you examine the wall, who seemed much more interested.

“I never said that,” he answered softly.

“Okay—but, do you think you’re smarter?”

“In what sense?”

“Did you take the Frontiers evaluation for calculus?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you score?”

“9.8.”

“Shut the fuck up! No you didn’t.”

Wonwoo merely tapped the black-framed glasses further up his nose, smirking slightly, and began shaking his head while continuing down the exhibit. You hurried after him, remembering to lower your voice to match the collective quietness.

“Prove it,” you whispered.

“Go to prof Bradbrook’s office. My name’s on her wall.”

“I hate you.”

“Why? What did you score?”

“I’m obviously not going to say it now.”

Wonwoo still remembered the day his test score came back—he’d opened the envelope in Miss Bradbrook’s office, and while she sat across from him, practically squirming and jittering with anticipation, Wonwoo had glossed over the paper slip with the smallest, most low effort smile. He knew he was supposed to feel relieved in that moment—overjoyed probably—to realize his notable success and the upstanding conformation he was legitimately good at something. But in truth, he hadn’t really felt anything at all. He sort of just smiled. That was it. That was all he could muster.

And his life had mirrored that moment ever since. In the past, it would come and go. Yet, that day, it just stuck. The only time he ever experienced any glint or sparkle of happiness, it had come from his girlfriend—but even she couldn’t imbue much from him that day.

“Well, that’s not what I expected you to ask.”

You glanced over at him, adjusting the bag on your arm.

“Meaning?”

“There are different types of intelligence. I thought you meant, in a more general sense, am I smarter, or more knowledgeable. To be honest, I can’t say. I mean, I feel like I’ve experienced and seen a whole lot, but that’s just life’s illusion.”

“You won’t really know ‘til you’re on your death bed.”

Wonwoo returned your glance, squinching his brown eyes in a judgemental but innocuous way that gave bloom to his smile.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t help it. Museums make me think of death. I think it’s the really cold, still air. Especially in nature museums where they need to preserve things. Like, look at that fox. It’s a bit ominous.”

On the exhibit to his right, Wonwoo observed another display protected by glass. There was a fox, with a rusty, auburn coloured coat, poised atop a fake precipice of grass. Wonwoo knew what you meant—it was the eyes, like two leaf green beads, so immensely detailed but lifeless to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“I want to see the aquarium exhibit next,” you said, tugging twice at Wonwoo’s sleeve. “I heard it’s really dark in there.”

“Well, we can go take a look.”

“And we can eat afterward? There’s an atrium.”

“Sure.”

Wonwoo let your arm link with his, following the natural flow of museum-goers into the next exhibit, leaving behind the shiny, colourful wall of beetles and the auburn fox in its lonesome enclosure.

The aquarium exhibit was one of the most spacious in the entire museum, placed in a large, dome-topped room, with shadows creeping at every corner. There were some lights—deep, blue lights that rippled and wriggled across the floor, like waves patterned against ocean sand by the sun rays. He didn't know from where, but he could hear water sloshing, a very soft sound that led him to imagine the wet sand squelching under his toes.

You approached another display wall, filled with a school of lemon-yellow and azure coloured fish placed around vibrant, unique corals.

While you busied yourself with reading the informative plaque, Wonwoo spent his time taking a more in-depth inspection around the mystifying exhibit. He noted the stingrays and luminous jellyfish flocking above his head, held on near-invisible little wires that would occasionally glimmer if they twisted the perfect angle.

After a generously long venture throughout the room, reading all the plaques and pointing to different fish behind the glass just to comment, “I think that was in Finding Nemo,” you had wanted to sit down, spotting a bench positioned before an aquarium.

Wonwoo agreed, and you collapsed on the bench together.

There was a period of comfortable silence where you both watched the aquarium, meanwhile the dappling, blue pattern cast to the floor danced and flickered around at your still feet. The atmosphere seemed so vivid that Wonwoo was surprised the next breath he took wasn’t a mouthful of liquid and sea salt, or that his body wasn’t miraculously suspended and floating about in the echoey shadows.

And that’s when Wonwoo decided he liked the aquatic exhibit very much—more than all the others.

He looked down at the hands folded in his lap, specifically at the scarred, ruined cuticle belonging to his right thumb and how it had withstood years of his anxious scratching. Wonwoo then breathed out softly, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up.

“Want to know something?” He asked.

You stared back at Wonwoo with an intrigued pique of your brow.

“Like what?”

“Well, first of all, we both took creative writing, you know.”

"Uh, okay," you sniffed, "sure."

"No, like, we took the course together. In the fall. Prof T?"

"Really?" You pinned him down in a non-believing stare. "Wait, you're talking about that basement auditorium, right? In Gildan Hall? It always smelt like old computers and dust bunnies?"

"That's the one."

Scoffing out some dry air, you leaned back.

"Woah. I don't think I ever saw you... did you go to each class?"

He nodded a few times. "Almost all. To be fair, I sat more in the back, off to the corner. I wasn't exactly thrusting myself into the limelight."

Folding one leg over your knee, you chuckled. "Sounds like you."

“I have this really specific memory from that class, when that random guy, whoever he was, sat in the seat you always took. Your so called unofficially-assigned-assigned-seat. And I remember that really tense feeling right before you walked in, because we all knew you were gonna chew him out for it. The way you marched straight up to him was already violating enough, and then you basically ruined his whole day.” Looking down at his hands again, Wonwoo smiled at recalling the memory. “You absolutely terrified me. I don’t even think you understand how much I wanted to avoid you.”

He caught your eyes, shimmering like the water-stained floor, with an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Actually?” Was all you said, hardly sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”

Your face began searching around the shadowed, sloshing exhibit for something unseen. He decided to let the silence settle like a thin sheet, instead listening to the tidal pushing and pulling. The soft sounds reminded him of being a child, wandering beaches into the late evening with his older brother during summer vacations, and picking up shells just to hear the ocean speaking inside them.

Aloud, you breathed in, shaking your foot.

“I can’t really remember what was going through my head that day. I know I’d had a fight with Mingyu before going to class, so I was feeling pretty amped up and short-fused. I knew I was going straight to another SSA meeting that I hardly cared about immediately after, and then I would work until the evening. I knew I would have to make dinner when I got home, even though I’d be downright exhausted, and the next morning, I’d have to wake up early to attend some bullshit press, social, interview breakfast thing for my mom’s new lifestyle magazine. Having that idiot sit in my favourite seat was probably just the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, suddenly experiencing a profound sympathy for you that he never imagined he would feel. “When you give it a bit more perspective, it doesn’t sound so…”

“Completely and utterly bitchy?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but, sure.”

You grinned at him through the dusky rippling of auroras that flitted across the exhibit, seeming like you were under the sea—and he was, too, sitting side by side in the somehow peaceful depths of the chaotic whirlpool that had pulled you two together.

“I have a memory.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo returned your grin, “I want to hear it.”

“So, remember earlier how we were talking about the Frontiers evaluation for Bradbrook’s calculus class?”

“Mmhm.”

"So, after all the Frontiers scores came out, I'm not gonna lie—I really thought I had one of the better marks. It's not like I specifically trotted around, throwing out my grade to anyone passing by, but I was parading a little bit to my friends. And then, like, Clara or something, told me that there was this guy who almost got a ten. I asked her who, and she said she didn't know—just that she overheard some of the basketball guys talking about it.

I thought she was lying. I didn't say that, though. But I remember it was on my mind every night. Like, it was itching me so bad. I wanted to know who the fuck was smart enough to get a damn near perfect ten on Frontiers. Some of those problems are ridiculously hard. I started writing nonsense around A-block. They straight up give students problems that serious, esteemed mathematicians can't fucking solve. So, honestly... I was quite jealous of you... despite not even knowing who you were. I can't believe that was you, asshole."

Wonwoo cracked his knuckles, beginning to laugh at that intense but lighthearted glare you were sending his way. Of course, you mellowed everything out with a big smile he felt his heart skip a beat over. You had actually went to bed thinking about him.

Holy fuck.

Maybe not him in physicality. But in spirit.

That was close enough.

"I just did the study guide." He shrugged.

Your knee pushed into his. "Oh, yeah, the study guide. Jeez, why didn't I think of doing that? Let me go kill myself right now."

"Keep tabs on it for next time."

With a roll of the eyes, you laughed almost to scorn him.

“I hate people like you.”

And Wonwoo laughed back. “Meaning?”

“Things come to you so naturally. You don’t have to try.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo agreed, scratching his nose and proceeding to nudge up his glasses, “things like mathematics, numbers, problem solving, taking something whole apart and then looking at its pieces. I guess it does come to me naturally. I can’t complain. But there are also plenty of things that don’t. And… if I could, I’d probably trade all my stupid math and logic and puzzling for what I’m missing.”

You tilted your head, staring intently at Wonwoo through the blue sea between you, almost into his brain, it felt like.

“What are you missing?”

At first, Wonwoo didn’t respond. To answer your question meant an intimate exhumation of the flaws that he’d been willfully ignoring for the past year, if not his entire damn life. It meant at last turning over the round, flat rock that had been sitting at the foot of his wooden porch since childhood, and realizing the bottom was sculpted with the grittiest texture and wet with the thickest dirt. The rock was hiding long-legged spiders and ugly, skittering bugs and it would have probably been better to let the rock sit there, untouched, only facing the warm and comfortable glow of the sun.

Wonwoo didn’t want to turn the rock.

Not at all.

“A plethora of things, I’m sure.”

Squeezing onto your wrist, you smiled at him.

“I think I’m the opposite.”

“How so?”

He watched you inhale a long, slow breath, and then huff it all out through your nose. Wonwoo bumped his knee against yours.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s not like that…”

Looking up to the glowing aquarium, the dull light reflected back unto your face, and Wonwoo again saw the glisten in your eyes.

“I just feel…” for a moment, your chest stilled, “… I feel like I’m so much of everything that I just blend into nothing. You know, like when a child takes a whole bunch of paints and squirts them all together thinking it’s going to create this beautiful, never-before-seen new colour? But, instead, it’s just greyish-brownish, nothing.”

Your face turned back to him. Wonwoo watched you chew down on your bottom lip, meanwhile your eyes glazed aloof, off to the side, as though you were rummaging through so many different thoughts and experiences that it required your utmost mental focus.

“And—” you swallowed tightly, and it sounded so painfully dry with stinging emotion, “—I just don’t want people to see that I’m so much of nothing. I just find myself covering it all up.”

Were you going to cry? Wonwoo felt himself jolt inwardly with panic. He had never seen you cry and he had therefore never developed the best protocol to tackle such a situation. Some people preferred immediate comfort, others—a reassuring stroke on the back, maybe some uplifting monologue. Or, maybe, they didn’t want to be touched at all. They just desired the simple, thinking silence and all its clarity. He remembered you saying something about it—that you did like to be comforted, but only in very certain circumstances.

First, Wonwoo subtly wiped off his hand against his thigh, and then he took in the softest breath. Through the flickering, midnight blue mirage, Wonwoo reached for your hand. He settled his cold fingers inch by inch under yours, and, with a timid but gentle thumb, Wonwoo caressed in a slow path along your knuckles.

You glanced to him appreciatively, saying nothing, but squeezing his hand in return. He figured he’d done right.

Maybe more things came to him naturally than he thought.

Before leaving the nature museum, you and Wonwoo had stopped at their atrium as promised to get in a quick meal. While you poked a fork into your sad-looking salad, making small scribbles every now and then to the journal at your elbow, Wonwoo ate a grill-pressed sandwich and flicked through his phone. He was surprised to check the time and realize you had spent about three hours there—it felt so much shorter. Wonwoo hated how quickly each moment flew past when he was with you. It was always so bittersweet.

He had wanted to know what exactly you were penciling in the journal, though he never asked, knowing he would probably be proofreading it from your document later. Obviously, you were thinking about that particular date with Mingyu from years back in your life—that was the principal point in going to the museum. However, Wonwoo had chosen to regard it more as hanging out, not caring if that was a particularly delusional or untruthful choice.

After finishing your meals and tossing the plastic remnants into the recycling bins, Wonwoo looked outside the atrium’s towering glass wall to note how cloudy the sky had become. From the bright, eggshell turquoise in the afternoon, to an especially muted grey that seemed brewing and heavy with a downpour. You adjusted the bag over your shoulder and suddenly grimaced at the sight.

“Jeez, is it going to rain?”

“It could,” Wonwoo sighed. “It very possibly could.”

“I swear. I obsessively check the forecast in order to plan all my outfits around it. It never said it would rain!” You then threw the bottle of iced tea you’d been drinking into the garbage with an aggressive slam. “This shirt is a horrible choice. It will be stupidly see-through."

Wonwoo glanced around the atrium.

“There’s lots of empty tables. If we want to sit and wait it out, then I don’t think anyone would get mad. But, I mean, it’s up to you.”

“Why’s it up to me?”

“I don’t know. Just—if you don’t want to get your outfit all soaked. I’m sure if we left now, we could make good distance before it really started raining. I’m not opposed to getting a little wet. But I have no issue with staying here and letting the clouds go over.”

You folded your arms, and your head fell to the side. He’d seen that look before. It was your own patented prelude to disaster.

“I never said I was opposed to getting wet.”

He laughed. “Well, you certainly insinuated it.”

“Do you think I'm some sort of whiny little priss?”

"I think you named your bear Miss Priss."

"I think you're a smart ass. Take that smirk off your face. Now."

Wonwoo wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. He then thought about trying to tenderly explain his way out of it with his smooth words. As much as he would think he’d figured you out, there was still a part of him that was very confused by you and how to adjust to your behaviour.

This time, he decided he would do nothing.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He reached out his hand for you to grab.

“As if,” you scoffed, walking around him toward the exit doorway, into the museum garden, “not after you just insulted me.”

Wonwoo could do nothing but laugh in response, because he had caught that faint smile on your face as you passed him, and the sweet beading in your eyes. He simply followed you out the doors.

During the walk back to his apartment, it had yet to rain at all, not even a typical, humid summer drizzle or the smallest bit of spitting. Maybe it was just way more cloudy than usual, or it was a concerning spread of city smog tainting the sky. It’s not like he wanted it to rain, anyway, though more so for your sake than his.

About a little more than halfway through the walk, however, you came to an abrupt stop outside a flower shop, and Wonwoo watched you lift a doubtful hand to your cheek and wipe something off it. Before you could say anything, Wonwoo felt a big, cold, wet drop smack just above his eyebrow and begin leaking down. He used the sleeve of his shirt to clean it up, only to experience another fat droplet strike a second later, right onto his glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” he heard you mumble.

Making the mistake of looking up, more and more droplets fell swiftly from the daunting, dark grey blanket strewn across the entire skylight. They began painting all over the sidewalk, the roadway, shaking down into the brilliant purple and white petunia pots outside the florist shop. And Wonwoo froze for a moment, because he honestly hadn’t expected to be caught in the rain, let alone the downpour it was unfortunately shaping up to be.

“Ow!” You winced sharply. “One just fucking hit my eyeball!”

“Shit—let’s hurry.” Wonwoo hid his phone. “My apartment’s only like, ten minutes away, less if we run really fast.”

“Run?!” You gawked at him. “I don’t run!”

“No, you fucking sashay, I get it.” In a matter of seconds, those intermittent raindrops had evolved into an unrelenting, bathing barrage. Wonwoo could feel his clothes beginning to dampen, and his glasses were streaming with water. He slapped his hand onto yours, jerking you forward despite your stiltedness. “And I’m so sorry but you’re going to have to sacrifice one part of your pretty fucking princess routine for just five minutes so we can get back to my place.”

“My pretty fucking wha—!”

Once Wonwoo’s fingers were clasped tight with yours, he started to run, and whether it was voluntary or not, you ran along with him, shouting something that he couldn’t quite hear over the rain that bounced in loud splatters against the sidewalk and the adrenaline echoing in his own ears. He could hardly see through the downpour, but he’d walked that path so many times that it almost wasn’t necessary. At one point, he’d stepped onto the street prematurely, and he heard the loud, startled honk from a car.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo!” You half-laughed, half-coughed, clutching onto his slippery hand even tighter, “I’d ideally like to live!”

“We’re almost there!” He chuckled back.

“I think I’m going to lose my fucking shoe!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair!”

Wonwoo didn’t stop, and you didn’t either. He was soaked to his bones, with thick, drizzling fronds of hair plastered to his forehead and the glasses nearly slipping from his nose—the scent of earthy but ashen rain all around him—and still Wonwoo kept running, a very blithe smile permanent to his mouth despite all his discomfort.

Upon reaching the entryway to the pottery shop, Wonwoo almost skidded completely past it since the sidewalk was so slick and pouring like an angry river. You slammed into his back, and it was then that your hands unintentionally separated. Instead, he felt your fingers flesh into the sopping cloth covering his shoulders.

“Be careful on the steps!” He shouted overtop a reverberating crack of thunder that shook from behind the grey sleet sky.

“If I slip, I’m pulling you down with me!”

Wonwoo was pleased to hear the equally bright smile that bled into your words, meanwhile your fingertips dug even deeper into his muscle. Once inside the shop, a gust of wind proceeded to blow the door shut, and all Wonwoo heard was hard rain against the glass.

—END OF PART TWO.

#seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #jeon wonwoo #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut

426 notes · View notes

steviebbboi · 28 days

Text

Old Bonds, New Beginnings

Pairing: Biker!Ari x F!Reader

Part 1/2

Word Count: 8.4k~ (i think i have ruined myself)

Summary: You and Ari grew up together as childhood best friends to now reluctant strangers. Let adrift by leading the "Red Sea Roaders MC," and with you taking over your father's floral shop, the two of you are polar opposites. What happens when Ari takes a risk in rekindling a connection with you?

Disclaimer: This is from the results of this poll~ i'm hoping that biker!Ari is as satisfying to read as it was to write him. This is a two-parter though so peep what is to come too! We don't see too much biker interaction in part 1 but don't worry, we will 😏 also, this work is unbeta'd so any mistakes you see are totally my bad!

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; semi-mentions of assumed violence, mentions of illegal activity, mentions of underage/teenage 'first times' (with reader being in freshmen yr into sophmore yr, while ari was junior yr into senior yr of highschool), explicit language, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), p in v, size kink, mild angst and grief from both reader and Ari, nostalgia, fluff, SQUIRTING galore, Ari is worshipping Reader (as he should), slight/mild dumbification, overstimulation, reader is thIQUE, Sharon is mentioned but not featured, highkey mutual pining and love, *smut is after the floral cut!

*if i have left anything out, please feel free to lmk!

It means so much to me for my work to get out there in reaching other folx who may also really enjoy Biker!Ari and Reader. If you could kindly reblog my work as you enjoy reading it, I would be immensely grateful. Every reblog also serves as such a motivator to help me continue writing~ thank you so very much for interacting with me and hoping to connect soon <3

Gathering twine, you wrap the delicate stems together mindfully as you feel a smile grow upon your face. The bouquet held together a mix of peonies and geraniums – two underrated flowers, in your opinion.

Involuntarily, you start humming that tune that you heard earlier that day as you continued to strategically put together delicate arrangements. So caught up in the song, you didn’t hear the store bell ring as you went into the backroom for more twine.

“Hell-ooo? Can I get some help here?” A voice complained from the front. You quickly placed the flowers down and walked through the doorway to see a man looking at his watch impatiently as he waited for you to reach the front desk. You saw his face change into something akin to surprise as you noticed his impatience shift into a semblance of a smirk as he scrutinized you.

“Ugh, here we go.” You thought to yourself as you internally rolled your eyes at the man. He was quite handsome, but not really your type. His hair sported a nice quaff to it and a thin layer of hair covering his face. He was donning a bold, red suit and a nice pair of Ferragamos oxfords. Undoubtedly, a man with money. What he was doing in a flower shop downtown– you speculated that he was definitely picking up for his wife, or girlfriend.

“Or both,” You thought with a small smirk as you greeted him.

The man proceeded to put on his charm as he grinned at you. “Hey sweetheart, I was wondering if you could help me figure out the best flowers to pick out for my girlfriend?”

“Which one?” You asked him. He blinked and responded dumbly, “W-which one?”

You blinked back at him innocently, “Yes…as in, which kind of flowers were you thinking of?”

The man paused and closed his eyes in embarrassment. “Ah, right.” As he gathered himself, you couldn’t help but purse your lips to continue covering your knowing smirk as your previous theory just got confirmed. Works every time.

You straightened up as he continued, “I was thinking maybe roses? That’s classic ‘romance’ that you can’t really go wrong with, right?”

Responding with a resounding hum and tilt to your head, “Roses are a classic. You could always put together a few different kinds, depending on the occasion. Is there something specific that you’re trying to convey?” You lead him towards the back of the store towards some pre-wrapped rose bouquets sitting waiting to be picked.

“I showed up late to a date so I figured I’d do something nice to make up for it, y’know. Make her happy, I guess.” The man said nonchalantly as he placed his hands in pockets uncaringly.

You’re turned away from him, thankfully, as your eyes really did roll this time. “You would probably make her happy if you were on time instead.” You thought sardonically. You see men like this everyday, coming into your store and having so many assumptions on how to make up for careless mistakes that never get rectified. Most men tended to think that flowers would be enough, and your heart went out to every single one of their partners and wished them better.

“Sure, hm, maybe these?” You turned with the bouquet in hand and noticed that he stood way too close to you, and from the look on his face, he knew it too.

You felt your hackles rise as you uncomfortably cleared your throat and used the bouquet as a divider between the two of you to create some space. You held it out to him and backed up a few feet, “What are your thoughts?”

Unfortunately, it’s these same men who also take one look at you and decide that you’re worthy prey enough to make you girlfriend #5.

The man simply smirked at the distance that you created and said, “Looks great. Let’s do it.”

You muttered out a relieved “great” and started to walk towards the front of the store again to ring him up, eager to get this sale over with so that he could leave. Unbeknownst to you, the man was staring at your ass as you walked away and muttered out a quiet, “damn.”

You turned to stand behind the counter and proceeded to wrap up the bouquet into a protective layer of transparent plastic when he said, “So, what’s a pretty thing like you working in a shop like this?”

Not even bothering to hide your dismayed reaction, you let out a sigh and responded, “Well, like most ‘pretty things’ do, I decided to own my own shop, just like this.” You ended your reply with a sardonic laugh. The mocking tone in your voice was unmistakable as you slid the finished product across the desk for him to take.

“That’ll be an even $85, sir.” You looked at him blankly as his eyes narrowed in annoyance, both from your sarcasm and when hearing the price.

“$85 for this heap of crap that’ll die in a few days?!” He exclaimed disbelievingly.

You wanted to respond with, “It’s not like you can’t afford it, asshole,” but your head won out and spoke for you, “They’re in season– but considering that they were already prepared for you, this is a pretty considerate price, sir.”

The man just let out a huff and was about to argue with you more until his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the name, rolling his eyes. Given how he proceeded to neglect your current conversation and went to text harshly instead, you predicted that it was either work or the aforementioned girlfriend. Which number, well, given the excessive frown that was adorning his face, you’d guess #1.

The man shoved his phone back into his pocket forcefully and pulled out his wallet from the other. “‘Considerate’, my ass.” You heard him whisper to himself before saying loudly, “You’re lucky that I respect the nature of good business, sweetheart.” You nodded your head mindlessly as you swiped his card with a smirk. You’re guessing that it was girlfriend #1, for sure.

“Suuuure, pleasure doing business then, sir.” You tell him with an overgrown smile on your face and wave.

He rolled his eyes at you and left with flowers in tow as he rushed out. Looks like he was going to be late again. Now that you were alone, you let out a shameless, hearty laugh at your own quips as you started towards the back area again to continue your original task. Right before you turned though, you heard the roves of familiar engines revving outside. Leaning forward and resting your elbows on the counter, you stared at the incoming troves of motorcycles as they slowed into a stop for the bar across the street.

Resting your face in your hands, your eyes caught sight of one bike in particular, or rather, the owner of said bike.

Ari Levinson, your childhood best friend. Certifiably scary to public onlookers on the outer circle, but huge fluff ball on the inside and to all those that actually knew him. You grew up together, given that both of your father’s were friends and next door neighbors. You remember fondly of a time when you and Ari were chasing each other with water hoses in your front lawn, so young and lively. He was a few years older than you but that didn’t stop you both from playing together from sunrise till sundown.

Your smile waned as you were brought back to reality. Nowadays, you rarely have the chance to catch up with the guy, much less chase each other with water hoses. The reality was that the happy go-lucky kids that grew up together, grew apart. Ari took over the club once his dad died, and you were just sort of…forgotten about. You distinctly remember getting rejected over and over again.

“I can’t see you right now, bun.” or “I’m really busy, we’ll catch up later.”

There were just too many deflections and excuses, so many where you just stopped trying to reach out. You moved away for college and came back to help take care of your dad’s floral shop now that he’s retired. Ever since you moved back a few weeks ago, Ari always smiled at you fondly and you always smiled back but that was the end of any interactions that you’ve had. It felt like that part of your life ended when Ari took the club 10 years ago. You have no idea what Ari is really like now either. Perhaps, you’ve become a part of the outside circle looking in.

Of course, it didn’t stop your crush on him. How could you not have feelings for him? Standing at 6,’’ burly and massive build, full beard and lush hair that curled at the nape of his neck and shagged around his ears, whilst donning a classic leather jacket with silver adornments and all. He was gorgeous, was all man, and so deliciously off-limits.

For a variety of reasons, one of those being Sharon. Ari’s on/off girlfriend since high school where you all met– classic mean girl bullshit, in your opinion. Not only was it the club keeping you two separated, but also Sharon’s decisively demanding and obsessed nature with keeping your hang-outs limited and separate.

As far as you know, they were ‘off’ and have been for a long time. But it doesn’t stop the glares that you receive from her to this day. You laugh about it now, but you do remember all those ‘private chats’ that Sharon pulled you aside for to warn you in ‘backing off’ from stealing Ari’s time. Luckily for her, you and Ari were starting to become on the outs at that time anyway. It was annoying to deal with, but it served as more reinforcement for you to continue forward with your life without him, detached and ready to move on and to be fair, you did.

You graduated college, took on a stable job, and built a community before moving back home. You were fortunate enough to still have some of that now that you’re back too. As for your own romantic life, there have been some hitters. A few who have stayed for some time, either resulting in more heartbreak or a complacent parting.

But never did any of those partners linger and stay with you like how Ari has since you were five years old. You barely knew each other now, there was an animosity there that felt so unresolved but neither of you ever talked about the past, nor drifting apart. Despite this, he still hasn’t really strayed from your heart, not really.

Brought back to the present, you watched as Ari climbed off of his bike, and playfully pushed another biker around before they all started entering the bar. Right before he entered, Ari looked behind his shoulder and you started a bit because he was looking back at you. And you just got caught staring at him first.

You flushed and looked away a bit until you realized that playing it off would probably be even more embarrassing than it would to confront it. You met his stare through the window and caught a smirk on his face as he waved at you. You let out a small laugh and waved back sheepishly. At your response, Ari gave you a gentle smile before tilting his head towards the bar, as if he was inviting you to go over.

You blinked in surprise and instinctively, you gave a regretful shake of your head before waving over at the register to indicate that you were still working. Ari looked disappointed but nodded anyway before giving you one last wave. You responded in kind and he headed inside.

At his departure, the only thing that you were gazing over at were these motorcycles lined up in similar fashion. The main thing that has held you back from even approaching Ari again was glaring right back at you. As you turned to the back once more, you mindlessly continued to put together bouquets as you got lost in your thoughts once more.

You were both adults now, you could go over and say hi. Hell, maybe even spark a conversation about the past for nostalgia’s sake. But it didn’t change the fact that Ari ran a biker’s club that called themselves a ‘club’, but also did very not so legal things.

Rumors started when other biker clubs started coming down from nearby towns or cities. A variety of men and women adorning different cuts and entering the bar across the street wearing stormy expressions. Increased police force around town hasn’t escaped people’s nosy gazes either. It was known that there was obviously something more to the group but nobody questioned it because, well, there really wasn’t any reason to do so.

Beyond a few bad apples here and there, the members of the club were relatively respectful of everyone residing in the neighborhood. Most members themselves were from home, and were known to help out here and there, whether it be through making public donations to charity fundraisers or helping a person put their groceries away.

No doubt, knowing Ari since you were a kid, you suspect that most of the peace has been kept because of him. In retrospect, you weren’t surprised that Ari started pulling away when he did. You both knew what taking over the club would mean for him, and you remember the constant conversations, some tear-filled, of Ari experiencing the pressures of taking the mantle from his father.

You tried your best to comfort him, given what little you did know about the club, but you knew that Ari didn’t really have a choice. While you didn’t remember much about the club when his father was running it, you did remember the strain it had on his relationship with Ari. They weren’t particularly close but they loved each other, in their own way. Being a witness to it helped you become a support system for Ari (and in alot of ways, Sharon too).

While it hurt to be discarded by him the way that he had, the years have taught you resiliency and forgiveness that people are responsible for their lives and what they make of it. You couldn’t fault Ari for trying to do the best with his life as well.

You kept these thoughts close to you as you closed the store for the day. You were pulling down the gated shutters of the store to lock it up when you heard him.

“Finally closing down for the day, bun?” Turning around quickly to face the deep, baritone voice that has haunted you since you were younger, you see Ari smiling at you with upturned lips and his hands in his jacket pockets.

You gulp down a swallow of surprise at the fact that the boy that you have had lifelong feelings for was now a man, who was actually looking and talking to you. You haven’t heard that nickname spoken from him in a long time, and blinked once or twice before responding, “Ari, hi, yeah, I’m about to head out.”

Hearing your own voice, so breathy and soft, made you flush once more. Ari only held his grin at the sight and said, “Would you wanna come get a drink with me and the guys before you head out?”

Instinctively, you shook your head once again at the offer and gave him a reluctant smile. “It’s getting a little dark and I was planning on walking home.”

On hearing that, Ari frowned, “What do you mean, don’t you usually drive into work?”

You frowned at his questioning tone and replied, “I do, but I had to leave the car at Tony’s shop since last week. They’re still waiting for the parts to come in before they could fix it.”

Ari was still frowning as he listened to you, “Bunny, that’s at least a 20 minute walk. It can get dangerous around here this late.”

“Ari, it’s fine. I’m a big girl now, y’know.” You said defensively. You had no idea where he got off scolding you. It’s not like he was around for you to tell him anyways.

Ari sighed and gave you this look as if he were supposed to be told. “I know that, bunny. Trust me, I know.” You frowned again, slight suspicion flooding you at his tone. Especially at the latter half of his response, what is that supposed to mean?

Ari placed his hands on his hips before sighing out, “Okay, come get a drink with me and I’ll take you home.”

Your eyes widened at his offer as he sounded so resolute. “W-what, no–Ari, I’m fine. If I get going now, I’ll make it home before the sun completely sets.”

He returned your defense with his own, “Yeah, well, just because it’s not dark out, doesn’t mean that something won’t happen.”

You released a disbelieving scoff, “Dude, what do you mean-- what could possibly happen?”

Ari stammered out, “I mean, I dunno– bears, wolves! One of ‘em could just come out as you’re walkin’ on the road and then what?” He held out his hands as if it explained everything.

You stared at him with your mouth slightly agape and your brows furrowed at listening to his excuse. You stood there in silence and before you could stuff it down, a smile started to creep upon your face and you let a short laugh that fully erupted into a full giggle. Watching your reaction, Ari also closed his eyes in mirth and started chuckling with you.

You were still giggling as you say in-between catching your breath, “Do you mean to say, lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my!?” You finished with a mocking flourish before releasing a bellowed laugh, your eyes squeezed shut in giddiness.

Ari was full on laughing with you as you made the remark, “Okay, Dorothy – you could shut up now. I heard it as soon as I said it.”

Letting out one last resounding exhale, “It’s okay, Tin-man. I think that I’m familiar with the yellow brick road. I don’t need you to be so worried about me, okay? I’m fine.”

Ari’s eyes glinted at your retort although he sobered up at your continued reassurance. “What- you don’t wanna spend time with you best friend anymore, is that it?”

You recognized the teasing glint in his tone but took notice of this sadness in his eyes. You felt genuinely confused, and concerned, at the sight. Ari was always noticeably mellow and calm when he was around you, even during the smaller interactions that you’ve had throughout the years. This look in his eyes though was new. Or, maybe you never got close enough to really see it.

At that thought, your own sadness seeped in. “That’s not true, Ari. It’s just…” You trailed off, not being able to figure out how to communicate with this person that you didn’t know anymore, but felt so deeply for. How do you tell someone that you miss them, miss their presence, but that time has done its job of making you feel like strangers? That, he, was what caused them to spend time apart in the first place?

You moved on from that. It’s not like you’re aiming to make him feel sad or anything – you just felt so uncomfortable around him despite that moment that you two just had. It was just another reminder of what life would've looked like if you were still in each other’s lives.

Ari let your silence permeate in the space as he finished for you, “It’s just that I haven’t been your best friend in a long time.”

You just looked at him sadly and nodded softly. “It’s…been a long time, Ari.” He looked noticeably sad hearing that as you continued assuringly, wanting to get him to smile again. “But..I miss you lots, Tin-man.”

Echoing the mirthy moment that you had just a few minutes before, the sadness in his eyes was replaced with an affection that you also haven’t seen from him in a long time. It made you feel affectionate in return as you took the invisible olive branch that was present and leaned forward to grab his hand in yours, the same way that you would when you were younger.

Ari let out a breath at the touch of your soft skin on his calloused hand. He gave you a soft smile again while he squeezed your hand in relief. He pulled you forward, the move causing you to let out a surprised squeak, and tugged you to be cradled in his large embrace. The top of your head barely met the middle of his chest as you stood ramrod still, unused to the intimacy that you were now being bestowed.

He seemed oblivious to the stiffness in your body as he only tugged you in closer and rested his head on yours while his arms hugged you around your shoulders and waist. As you stood there, with Ari hugging you, you became increasingly relaxed and moved to put your own arms around his thick waist. At the return of your embrace, Ari let out another relieved sigh and squeezed you tighter. You both started to sway a bit as time went on, the hug never turning awkward nor tense as hands also started to roam reassuringly across waists and backs.

“I’m sorry, bunny.”

The apology though did take you off guard. You didn’t tense up but you did stop swaying. You paused before responding, “It’s okay, Ari.”

There was a lot that you wanted to say in that moment, and ask him, but you felt hesitant to even go down that path. You certainly didn’t expect for this to happen this morning, and it was overwhelming enough that you were laughing with and hugging Ari. The fact that he actually apologized opened up a depth and well of emotion that you didn’t know needed to be opened until he said the words. It seemed like Ari understood that as he pulled back and looked into your tear-shining eyes gazing back up at him. He knew that you’d come to him when you were ready.

One hand left your waist to caress your soft cheek, Ari’s thumb brushing underneath your eye to catch the tear that did fall over. You closed your eyes at how suffocatingly close he felt, his warm, embracing body pressed against yours so intimately.

“This feels familiar, doesn’t it?” Ari whispered to you quietly as his fingers moved to caress your hairline right by your temple. His eyes looked at you so fondly and intensely as he continued to touch you. Almost as if he was trying to paint a vivid picture of you with his touch into his mind.

You felt so mesmerized by his gaze as your hands unconsciously caressed him back as your hands resumed making small, slow circles on his vast back. “What do you mean?” You whispered back.

Ari let out a quiet and humming chuckle, “Aw, don’t tell me that our first kiss was that bad, bunny.”

Blinking in surprise at the sudden inserted memory, you started to giggle softly again as he pulled you in closer to his frame. “Oh god, at the freshmen year dance, right?” Ari hummed his agreement as you continued remembering, “Wow, I completely forgot about that. You remember that?”

He was still caressing your face as his thumb drifted down to softly outline the outer edges of your lips. His gaze was still so intense and deep as he said, “I remember everything.”

Your breath hitched at the sensual turn of his voice and at the touch of his thumb now caressing your lips lovingly. You started to blush as the memory persisted at you to be inclusive of what happened after your first kiss. Ari was able to sneak you into his house and into his room, where the both of you continued to make out, but it was also where you ultimately decided to have Ari be your first. He was a little older than you so even though you weren’t his first, you trusted him. It was that night that you realized that your feelings for Ari went beyond just friendship.

You didn’t know it, but it was that moment where Ari realized his own feelings for you too. But that was when his dad was starting to tell him about taking over for the club, and he knew that he couldn’t drag you with him too. Then, he met Sharon (a very vivid mistake that he was still trying to detach from) and all he could think of when he was with her was relief that at least she wasn’t you. You didn’t deserve to have your light tarnished by what was to come.

Still astonished by the flood of memories now crashing back at you, your heart fluttered at how dark Ari’s eyes have gotten since you gazed into them. His thumb now pressing firmly against your bottom lip, you let him graze his finger down against the seam of your plush lips. You gasped quietly as the tip of his thumb also brushed against your wet tongue. Ari released a deep groan at the sight, your responsiveness affecting him just as much.

Your breathing started getting heavier as the tension between you intensified. Your eyes looked up at him again underneath your eyelashes and your eyes held such adoration and desire. It was that look that you didn’t even know that you were giving him that made Ari mutter a low fuck before grabbing your face between his two palms and pressed his lips against yours.

Your hands grasped at the back of his jacket so desperately as you met his kiss just as fervently. Ari kissed you deeply as one of his hands left your face to stroke across your back and downwards to seek a needy grip around your waist. His hand squeezed your hip and you moaned into the kiss while you stood on your tiptoes to clutch onto his broad shoulders and tangle your fingers into his soft hair.

It was Ari’s turn to let out a groan as you tugged gently on his hair. He lifted you off your feet to relieve the strain of your height difference and your legs draped around his waist with another surprised squeak. Still kissing you, he walked two steps towards the dark, side alley of your store building to press you against the brick wall. The both of you let out a resounding groan into each other’s mouths at the feel of Ari’s erection pressing against your warm center covered only by denim and tights.

Ari gently licked the seam of your lips for permission and you let out another breathy moan at the feel of his soft tongue caressing yours. He slanted his lips and moved a strong hand to grip your jaw, almost squeezing your cheeks together, for a better angle. The feeling that washed over you was hot and almost overwhelming as you intrinsically felt how much strength and power the man held as he seamlessly took your weight, and as his hand and mouth took control of the pace of your brazen kiss.

You felt his other hand softly stroke your outer thigh to push up towards the back of your skirt and graze over your sculpted ass. You released another mewl at the feel of him in such an intimate place and you felt Ari growl lowly into the kiss as his tongue almost lapped at yours.

Hearing a car honk next to you broke you out of your little hedonistic bubble and you reluctantly broke away from your kiss. You let out a giggle as that only succeeded in Ari’s lips following yours and his hot, wet tongue tried to engage you in your makeout again. He smiled against your lips as you whimpered at the slow but intense move and his lips worked for a minute until you detached him from again. Ari groaned but respected the small distance placed between your faces.

“I’m sorry, bunny. Was it too much?” Ari asked as he caught his breath.

You giggled and his eyes softened at the sound. “No,” you kissed him softly one more time before leaning your forehead against his, “just, not here.”

Ari’s eyes gleaned darkly as his desire for you clamored wildly once more. Ari said your name so soft and faint, you could barely hear him. “I miss you too. Can I take you home with me, bun?”

You looked back at him with pleading, affectionate eyes and the only word that you could say was, “Please.”

Ari nuzzled the tip of his straight nose against your button one and gave you a lasting, thorough kiss before letting you down and taking your hand in large one, striding towards his bike to take you home.

Entering Ari’s bedroom was surreal. The last time that you were here, you both were so young and you haven’t had life happen to you yet. Now, 10 years later, with Ari looking at you with so much warmth and endearment, it had felt like no time has passed at all.

You released another soft whimper as Ari’s large hands caressed your breasts through your undershirt. You were laying in his bed in your camisole and panties, his naked, taut and tattooed torso pressing against yours. The hard press of his erection felt crushing on your increasingly dampening panties as he slotted himself between your legs.

His tongue expertly brushed yours in another languid kiss. His mouth dragged away from your mouth to kiss the side of your jaw and drift down towards your neck. Ari sensually placed slow, wet kisses behind your ear and softly kissed down only to then lick a stripe up your neck. You gasp out a whine at how hot you felt, as you haven’t felt passion like this in such a long time.

Ari gripped your neck firmly for his thumb to caress your jaw line until he could turn your face so that he could whisper in your ear. “I’ve wanted to do this again for so long, bunny. You have no idea.”

You could only gasp out his name as you felt his warm breath tickling your skin. “I want you, Ari, please.”

Ari groaned deeply and kissed the side of your ear softly, “You have me, baby. You always have.” He kissed his way back to your waiting mouth and you kissed him back eagerly as your tongues stroked each other with something akin to neediness.

The both of you have been wanting each other for so long, it was seemingly clear to the both of you that you were making up for lost time starting now.

Ari stopped kissing you only to reach for the bottom of your tank top and lift the shirt off over your head, exposing your lucious, round breasts. Your light and tan areolas, nipples pert and ready to be suckled had Ari lean down to lick softly and suck gently into his impatient mouth.

Your nipples were connected straight to that pit of pleasure in your stomach as you let out a wanton moan. Ari kissed and licked between your breasts before drifting down the center of your soft stomach, placing wet kisses as he went. His eyes never left yours as his hands reached up to squeeze the wet tips of your nipples and eventually drift down the soft sides of your tummy.

Feeling overstimulated by his touch, you held no restraint for the noises coming out of your mouth. You felt tears creeping in the corner of your eyes at how badly you wanted him to keep caressing you with his calloused, big hands and for his hot mouth to never leave your supple skin.

Ari took in all of your moans and whimpers and he could feel his own restraint waning as he crept closer to your clad-covered pussy. Paired with your cute noises, seeing the thin fabric wetly sticking to your drenched slit made Ari inhale deeply. A picture of you in this moment was made complete when he took in the scent of your weeping cunt and Ari’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he released a low, guttural moan, “Fuuuck, bunny. I can’t wait anymore.”

You cried out in surprise as Ari’s tongue dragged up against your wet slit through your underwear. His mouth never left your cunt as he attempted to suck your juices through the fabric, groaning as he did it. Kissing up your mound, his fingers found the sides of your underwear hugging your hips only to drag it down harshly. The scent and first taste of you making him feral as he practically ripped your underwear down your legs.

The fabric still resting in around one ankle, Ari couldn’t wait as he proceeded to stuff his face full of your dripping pussy. Crying out loudly at the sensation of Ari’s mouth ravishing you, your hips started writhing on the bed to get closer to his mouth as your hands fisted the sheets next to your head.

You gasped out for breath as you felt Ari’s tongue lap at the wet on your lips before cutting through to lap at your pulsing clit. Letting out his own hums of satisfaction, Ari motioned his tongue in drawing slow and steady figure eights on your bundle of nerves as his lips closed over and sucked.

The suction of his lips and the steady pressure of his wet tongue on your clit felt so giving as you started keening for more. Your hips elevated off the bed, you could feel the wet that was pooling underneath the sheets trying to cling to your wet cunt as Ari followed your motions to keep sucking at your pink pearl. Ari grunted as he felt you try to escape his zealous mouth and used his forearm to bring you back down to the bed. His shoulders leaned further on top of you to keep them from closing. He kept one hand around the soft pudge of your stomach for leverage as he continued burrowing himself into your soaked pussy.

You fervently tried to arch up from Ari’s voracious tongue as it swirled against your clit only to catch at your opening. Ari smiled against your cunt and was openly groaning as he caught more of you in his mouth as his tongue swept up to thrust into you softly. You released a high pitched whimper as you feel Ari shake his head gently to get his tongue deeper inside you. Lapping for the wetness inside you, your thighs started to shake involuntarily. You felt the pleasure grow and expand to the tight knot that was held internally.

“Ari, oh god, I’m so c-close, please, please. I need to cum, please.” You begged him with your eyes rolled back in your head. Your hands reached down as you felt him retreat from your pussy and you released an affronted whine as your hand went to the back of his quickly to push his mouth back onto your pulsing, needy cunt.

Ari only laughed against your pussy and lapped faster, almost inhaling your sweet wetness as it covered the tip of his nose and all over his mouth and chin. The only sounds that could be heard were your short breathed whimpers, and the sounds of your squelching pussy juices being sucked by Ari’s ravenous mouth.

Your hips were grinding against his tongue as you chased your release. Your breath stilted as you felt the flat of Ari’s eager tongue press down hard against your clit to create an enveloping, suction sensation that just felt so wet and warm, you jolted forward with a loud cry as your orgasm hit intensely.

It felt never ending as Ari’s tongue never stopped its pressured motions on your clit and your eyes rolled back again as your second release unexpectedly crept up and squirted all over Ari’s waiting mouth. He groaned his pleasant surprise as he lapped up the wave of gush from your sobbing pussy earnestly, and only stopped lapping at you once you moved a hand to his forehead to push him away from your sated hole.

Ari was breathing just as heavily as you as he gazed at your pulsing pussy in the aftermath of being thoroughly destroyed by his mouth. “Aw, bunny, look at you. You’re shakin’ for me.”

He stroked his hand down your trembling body to gently brush his thumb against your swollen clit and you jumped from how sensitive you were. But Ari didn’t notice as his greedy only eyes saw another seep of cum drip down your hole. He couldn’t help but do it again as he saw more cum spurt out of you, and his tongue moved faster before he could help himself by sweeping in with his tongue on your opening to catch more of it in his mouth.

You let out a choked sob at feeling his tongue on your cooling, wet flesh once more. Ari didn’t stop stroking his calloused thumb against your overstimulated clit as he lapped at your opening over and over again. Not having enough rest time in between your last two orgasms, your third was unrestrained as you went quiet, your eyes rolled in the back of your head, looking possessed as you squirt hard from the fast pressure of both his thumb and tongue stimulating you at the same time.

Ari released his own resounding hum of gratification of feeling your wetness coat his tongue completely as he swallowed your cum down his throat. Your eyes were still rolled behind your head as you let out quiet grunts of relief, the knot at your stomach so unraveled and your body felt so pliant and loose. You only came to when you felt Ari’s wet, bearded mouth press kisses on your still trembling inner thighs and back towards your torso to gently suck on your nipples.

Feeling so hazy and barely there, you moaned quietly as he swirled his warm tongue on your nipple until he was kissing back up towards your chapped lips. Ari’s tongue quickly fixed that though as he made sure to lick up into your mouth, coating your tongue in your own essence.

You lazily stroked yours back against his in deep gratitude and immense sensuality. Ari let out a small, almost condescending laugh against your lips. “You okay, bun? Do you think I got your pretty pussy wet enough to take my cock?”

“Yes,” you whispered desperately against his mouth that was still leaving kisses on your open lips. “I can take it, please.”

Ari huffed out a disbelieving breath on your bottom lip at how good he has it right now. “God, you’re such a good girl, bunny. That’s right, I know you can take it. Think I need to prep you a little more okay, honey?”

You let out another affronted whine and no as you attempted to reach for his cock between you. Your hand landed right on his large, hard appendage and you stroked him as he let out relieved moans at the feeling of your small hand on his covered cock. Reaching down, Ari pulled down his own boxer briefs until your hand could feel his soft flesh.

Groaning loudly at the skin to skin contact, Ari let you squeeze his cock and stroke it with slow motions as he stroked two fingers against your wet lips and into your soft fleshy tongue. You moaned while sucking the digits in your mouth and stroked your tongue against them erotically. Ari groaned and bit his lip at watching your lips suck on fingers before pulling out of your mouth to reach down and stroke at your clit again.

Your hips raised as your pussy felt so sensitive and yet the pressure felt so fucking good at the same time. Ari chuckled again as he thrust his middle finger inside your tight cunt. Your teary eyes rolled again with a pleasured frown at the intrusive feeling. He lets out a resounding moan at the feeling of your wet channel squeezing his finger, “Damn baby, your pussy is so fucking tight. I have to work you up some more, okay, bunny? I don’t wanna hurt you.” You whined your assent as he thrusted his finger slowly before attempting to add in another.

You tensed up a bit when he tried and in a quick move, Ari leaned down to take your responsive clit in his mouth once more. Gasping out a moan at the sudden stimulation, that familiar pleasure swept back into your stomach. He felt your wet hole give more and more as you relaxed for him. He swirled his tongue against your clit and motioned his fingers inside your pussy in a “come hither” motion. Your eyes widened and you let out a chirp at the feeling of his fingers grazing your g-spot.

Ari’s eyes found yours as he looked up at you, releasing your clit with a soft and wet pop, “Ah, there it is, bunny, I got you.” At his words, you could only let out another lewd moan that became increasingly louder as his mouth went back to lapping at your clit in quick motions.

Your already glazed over eyes and fucked out look had Ari react wildly again, “Fuck, baby, I can’t get enough, I need one more taste, just one more.” You were so out of it, getting lost in your pleasure that you didn’t know what he was really referring to until he placed one large hand on top of your soft, pillowy stomach and pressed down while his fingers seemed to press deeper and faster inside of you.

Letting out a high pitched wail, your whole body locked stiffly as you felt it coming again. With a prolonged keen, you squirted your pleasure intensely as Ari continued to almost aggressively finger your g-spot while catching as much cum as he could in his mouth. Your whole body was twitching and squirming as you could only let out a few shaky breaths as aftershocks rolled through your used body.

Ari was breathing heavily as he gave one last craved lick up the cut of your pussy before withdrawing his fingers slowly for him to sit up and hold his heavy cock in his cum-drenched hand. You peered up at Ari with glazed over eyes to see his mouth and chest covered in his own sweat and your cum as he grasped his wide, girthy cock and aligned it with your quivering opening.

Not even allowing you to take a break, Ari knew that you would take him easier with your body completely relaxed and open like this. You were coherent enough to feel the tip of his hard cock nestle and rub against your tender clit until he reached down and plunged slowly into your tight core.

The both of you released a combined sound of a relieved sigh and gratified moan at the feeling of your pussy taking him in so smoothly. Since he entered slowly, you could feel every inch of his thick, veiny cock press inside of you.

Ari’s mouth was agape, his blue eyes stormy and narrowed as he stared at how his cock entered you, as he also indulged in the tightness and warmth of your sweet cunt. He withdrew from your pussy with a satisfied grunt, “See, bunny– fuuuuck, you’re taking me so well. I knew you could do it.”

You smiled gently and whimpered at his praise, you felt so cared for while Ari continued to thrust into you deeply. Succumbing to the filthy pleasure of his cock, your eyes rolled back in your head again as you released whimpered, soft ‘ngh’ sounds from your parted lips with every thrust he gave you. Letting out his own guttural grunts from his throat, Ari’s head tipped back as he gripped onto your thighs harshly. Your pussy was stretched around his thick cock and your tight channel welcomed him in so well.

“More, Ari, please– more,” you cried out as you started to meet his thrusts with your own.

“Yeah, bunny? Want me to fuck you like this?” Ari gritted his teeth as he moved faster into your pussy. You keened a quiet but intense ‘yes’ as your moans became louder again as Ari thrusted harder into you, his own groans were unrestrained as he tried to maintain composure.

With each thrust, Ari became fixated on watching your gripping pussy clench down onto his large cock with a mix of both of your cum dragging down his length and accumulating around the end of his dick. The sight was too overwhelming for Ari as he shut his eyes with furrowed brows in pleasure as he tried to last a little longer.

His attempts weren’t working so he clenched his teeth with a deprived grunt before pulling out of you, only to turn you over onto your stomach with a sharp smack against your ass. You let out a surprised yelp only to moan your pleasure again as Ari thrust back inside of you. Your knees were pressed onto the bed as he contorted your figure so that your face laid flat against the damp sheets, and your ass high up in the air being jostled by his cock.

One hand holding you down at the back of your neck, you felt Ari’s other hand stroke and press up and down your back languidly as his cock thrusted into you deceivingly hard and fast. The feeling of his hands on your damp skin just made you feel even more wrapped up in your pleasure. Your moans became high-pitched whimpers again as you felt Ari adjust his angle, and his next thrust landed right against your g-spot. You gasped as you choked on the whimpers leaving your throat and suddenly you couldn’t make any sounds at all. Your body went noticeably limp as Ari took you like a rag doll. Ari noticed this and how quiet you suddenly got and peered over while thrusting into you roughly.

After a moment of him fucking you furiously, he cooed and laughed, “Bunny, as much as I love hearing those cute sounds leave you, I really love it when you get quiet.” In his last words, he smacked your ass again and gripped your cheek tightly, the flesh caught in his fist turning the skin around it white, while he thrusted harder into your spot as he got you towards the finish line.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer pleasure of his cock ambitiously driving inside of you– combined with the feeling of his tight grip of his large hands on your pliant ass, your body squirted out your cum again but this time on Ari’s unrelenting cock. You tightened up so delightfully on his member, Ari couldn’t help the hissing moan from his mouth when he felt your pussy almost eject him from how tight you were pushing out your cum.

Not resisting, he quickly pulled out to see your squirt fully released. Breathing heavily at the sight, Ari tapped the mushroom head of his dick against your puffy clit eagerly and you let out a guttural moan as you squirt again at the stimulation. Ari could only let out another laughing moan as he did it once more with succeeding results. Little spurts of squirt seeped out of you and Ari tilted his head back, cursing at how sexy you were as he thrust deeply back into you.

Needing to see it one more time, Ari knew exactly what to do as he grunted and grinded against that spot inside of you, quickly rubbing the tip of dick against the spongy flesh and quickly pulled out for more squirt to gush out of you. The feeling of your tight pussy’s lasting grip on his aching cock was what felt so addicting to him as he did it again. You mewled tiredly and Ari could tell that you were at your limit although your back arched into him for more.

“Must feel so good, huh, bunny?” Ari checked in with you once he gained some semblance of control over his cock-driven brain. You assented with a tired ‘mhm’ and moaned softly as Ari entered you slowly so as to not continue overstimulating your thoroughly used cunt.

“Okay, baby, I think it's my turn now to feel good,” Ari says almost darkly. You give no response as you jut your ass out towards his pacing cock more as a sign for him to take you to his pleasure filled desire. But that’s okay, Ari didn’t need to hear you for this part.

Groaning loudly and deeply, he thrusted back into your sopping wet pussy as he finally chased his pleasure. You were quietly letting out your own moans as you gyrated back against him and it didn’t take long for him to get there. Teetering on the edge for some time, it only took one final thrust into you when Ari released a loud, roaring moan that came from deep in his throat as he spurted his hot cum inside your pulsating channel.

Ari shallowly thrusted his cum inside of you while catching his breath. He pulled back with a satisfied grunt to see a mix of your cum together and leaking out of you so prettily.

You were barely there as you moaned your satisfaction at the feeling of Ari using his half-hard cock to thrust your combined spend back inside of you with one last deep thrust. Ari squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure as he plugged your release back in and slowly extricated himself from your used cunt.

Feeling sleepy and floaty, you sinked back down onto your stomach, uncaring of the very wet sheets underneath you. As you floated between sleep and the present, you could feel a wet cloth pet at your opening and you groaned at the cooling feeling of Ari wiping you clean.

Laying down next to you, Ari pulled your sated body into his warm embrace and kissed your sweaty forehead with so much love and care.

As you hum in content, you were about to float away into a deep sleep when you heard Ari whisper one last note of affection, “I’ll never drift away from you again, Bunny. I love you.”

ok thots thoughts? ima just leave this here and ya'll could just tell me what u think 🙂‍↕️🫣

who do we think the guy in the Ferragamos is? we'll see him in part 2, dats fo sho.

Part 2 (coming soon)

Main Masterlist

Ari Levinson Masterlist

Join My Tag List!

****if you wanna be notified on my work (and next updates)!

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #biker!ari x f!reader #biker ari #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #chris evans characters #ari levinson #ari levinson imagines

377 notes · View notes

604to647 · 9 months

Text

Fics that Live in My Mind, Rent Free (Pedro's Version) - Part 2

Welp! It seems there are link and tag limits? Who knew? Not this newb 😂😂 When I said that I've read so many good fanfics, I really meant it. Again, below the cut is a continuation of the list of some of my fave Pedro character fanfics that I've read on this site - ones I think about and revisit often. These are all fics I should have/would have reblogged if only I wasn't so weirdly nervous about it; in 2024 we will muster up some courage and reblog (it will be slow, probably, but I promise I will be trying!). This is a good time for me to also say that one of the reasons I am motivated to step out of my comfort zone on this is because of the genuine joy every comment/reblog/like has brought me this year as a new writer - thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the kind reception on anything I have ever posted. 🥹 ilysm 😘

Anyways, we press forward (Part 1 of Rent Free PPCU fics can be found here):

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian, GOAT)

Of Shadows and Roses by @the-scandalorian (Bodyguard!Din x Royalty!Reader)

All Mine by @mellowswriting (Possessive!Din after Reader uses herself as bait)

Narcissus by @bits-and-babs (Armour/mirror sex)

Looking out for you by @beskarandblasters (Jealous!Din after Reader uses herself as bait)

Cherry Liqueur by @decembermidnight (Reader teases Mando in public)

Breaking in the New House by @beskarandblasters (I love Husband!Din and Wife!Reader fics)

Javier Pena (Narcos)

Sweet Dreams by @javiscigarette (Javi can't sleep)

Phone Sex...amiright? by @tightjeansjavi (Reader calls Javi at work)

Sharing is Caring by @ezrasversion (Corrupt DEA Agent!Javi, Mafia AU!Joel Miller, Reader Threesome)

The Saint, the Sinner, and the Devil by @joelsgirl (Corrupt DEA Agent!Javi, DBF Mafia AU!Joel Miller, Reader Threesome)

MIA by @itsharleystuff (Jealous!Javi with Undercover!Reader)

Surprising Javi P with a Lingerie Set by @swiftispunk

Not here...not now by @gracieispunk (Reader visits Javi at work)

Bunny by @whatsnewalycat (Sex Phone Operator!Reader; Part 2 is great too!)

Ease by @javiscigarette (Javi takes care of Reader after a bad day)

Joel Miller (TLOU)

Say It Right, Peeping Neighbour, and Right Place, Right Time by @chaotic-mystery (All the DBF and BFD fics are amazing; these are my fave)

Quickie by @joelscruff (This falls in the middle of the Boyfriend's Dad series, but it's the first one I read and I was hooked!)

That Funny Feeling by @bluebeary-jay (Joel loves pet names 🥹)

I've Got Lust on My Tongue by @itgetsdark-x (Bratty reader a la Maddy Perez)

The Babysitter, Part 1 by @proxima-writes (There's a Part 2 as well!)

Under the Table by @toxicanonymity (A lot of good Joelkemons, but Speakeasy is a classic and maybe my fave?)

Online Friends, Sticking it to the PTA, and Caught Sunbathing by @walkintotheriveranddisappear (All of Emma's Joel fics are really hot [honestly you can't go wrong], but these are my faves)

Late Night Smoke by @bettercallwillow (Dbf smoking. sigh)

Calling Joel Daddy by @inkedells (I honestly love it when authors bold the dirty talk 🤭)

Gimme What I Want and In the Next Room by @atticrissfinch (The masterlist is some of the hottest Joel fic, if I may say so; these are my faves)

An Open Window by @velvetmud (Joel being a peeping tom; I also always hope for a sequel to this one!)

Crave by @toxic-seduction (Part 2; Reader finds Joel in the QZ)

Good Luck Charm by @javiscigarette (Joel watches the football game)

Ravish by @psychedelic-ink (Webcam Model!Reader; Part 2 is also incredible!)

I Know it When I see It by @bageldaddy (Pornstars!Joel and Readers. This series has me and everyone else, I think, in a chokehold. Reading, as well, the writer's thoughts and feelings about the porn industry and the care put into the characters is such a joy and makes the fic that much more rich)

Chaser series by @livingemkayde (Nanny!Reader and a love triangle; not finished but so good I'm happy to wait forever)

Right my Wrongs by @chloeangelic (Father in Law!Joel)

In A Feud with Her Neighbour by @proxima-writes (Read this delicious fic and the bonus scenes will be the icing on top)

Kiss and Tell by @toxic-seduction (Stepdad!Joel and mom goes away for the weekend)

Peaches and Cream by @javiscigarette (Joel buys reader peaches)

Didn't Cha Know by @chloeangelic (The Joel Reader has been pining for is her boyfriend's brother)

Gif to breakup the text block:

Camgirl by @phuckinphia (Another Camgirl but this time she's Sarah's friend 🫣)

The Right Wrong Number by @proxima-writes (Sarah's soccer coach!Reader)

Nightmares by @fruispunk (QZ!Reader has nightmares that Joel hears and mistakens for something else)

Damage Done by @bluebeary-jay (Joel accidentally triggers Reader; mind the tags. Heavy angst, heavy topic that is beautifully written)

Yes, Mr. Miller by pedropascallme (Babysitter!Reader, Part 2 Thank You, Mr. Miller is also excellent)

How Long series by @gracieheartspedro (Link is to Part 1; series is complete and wonderfully hot and emotional. Reader's boyfriend Tommy is a cheat😢)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales (Triple Frontier)

Fictional Death by @psychedelic-ink (Frankie comforts Reader)

Well Fed by @the-ginger-hedge-witch (Frankie is HAPPY 🥹)

Forest Ranger AU by @the-ginger-hedge-witch (I'm not an outdoorsy person but this AU makes me wish I was)

It's Always the Quiet Ones by @thot-of-khonshu (Frankie surprises Reader)

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

Kinktober 2022 - Breeding by @moralesispunk (Guard!Pero and Royalty!Reader)

Bodily Exchange by @absurdthirst (Mafia AU!Pero and daughter of mafia boss Reader)

Damnation or Salvation by @absurdthirst (Pero is sent to retrieve Reader)

Dying Wish by @absurdthirst (Pero makes Reader's father a promise; okay at this point, just all of Keri's Pero fics 🤭)

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

Beat Poetry on Amphetamines by @psychedelic-ink (Marcus comes home hurt)

457 notes · View notes

chelleztjs18 · 1 year

Text

Love Language (W.M)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!CivilianReader (Avengers AU)

Summary: After Thanos, Wanda retires, along with a long term effect from all the missions she had and then she met you.

Warning: None, just some fluff. Mentions of hearing loss and sign languages.

A/n: Hello! It's me! I have a fluff now after the angsts I have posted. Thanks to my Curious George anon for the inspiring talk and ideas. Y'all can thank her too for motivating me to write and post a fic here today. lol. Welp, happy reading peeps!

Main Masterlist

Years of being Avengers was quite a lot for Wanda, not to mention losing Vision after Pietro. Mission after mission, countless fighting off the enemies felt like she was in an endless war without any possibility to end.

Fortunately, Wanda was wrong. After defeating Thanos, The Avengers are finally able to retire. Wanda is grateful that everybody including her are still alive, though it was hard for her in the beginning to get out the grief from Vision’s death. During all of the fighting she has been through as an Avengers, Wanda can’t escape the explosions or other loud sounds that happened.

It cost her an invisible permanent damage. Wanda has a progressive hearing loss. Her hearing is slowly deteriorating by time causing her to have to learn to read people’s lips in the beginning. With Natasha’s support, Wanda finally accepts her condition and learns sign language to be prepared for the day when she totally loses her hearing.

Then you come into her life.

To Wanda, meeting you at the grocery store near her house was the best thing ever to happen to her life. You brought back the colors in her life that she thought she had lost. You and Wanda have been together for almost a year. She loves you with all her heart. You are the life that she never thought that she would have ever again. Losing people that she loves has made her very skeptical in finding her happiness again but you have saved her.

You, you fell in love with her very hard. Heads over heels. To you, Wanda is perfect. No matter how much she tells you that she is not. You can’t blame her. You understand why she always tells you that she is not perfect because of her condition. Although right now she can still hear certain sounds but most of the time, Wanda can’t hear very well.

Wanda tries to stall as long as she can to not wear hearing aids. She doesn’t feel confident

about how it looks when she puts them on even though some of them don’t look that obvious and are pretty discreet. At this point, Tony has given up in trying to convince her to wear the one that he created special for her. She prefers to read people's lips than wear hearing aids.

Since the first time you both met and then officially dating, the communications have been easy. You always try to talk clearly and slowly and she focuses on reading your lips. Wanda sees how patient you are no matter how many times she asks you to repeat your words or when she doesn’t hear your soft spoken voice.

Wanda knows how hard it is to learn sign language so she always tells you that you don’t have to learn about it. She loves you so much that she told you she would wear hearing aids once she loses all her hearing to save you and your time from learning sign language.

With mutual understanding and how much both of you love each other, life has been very beautiful and happy. Both of you do a lot of things together. Her favorite is movie night together with a lot of snacks and drinks. Either watching new movies at the theater and sometimes at home or watching another rerun of her or your favorite sitcoms.

Wanda always tries to hold herself back not to ask you whenever she probably can’t hear or miss some words because she doesn’t want to bother you. Being the sweetest girlfriend you are, you always quickly pause the movie whenever you see her face looking confused because you know what is actually happening and then help her explain or ask her which part she misses.

Tonight, you just bought an older movie that Wanda has been wanting to watch with you. All snacks are ready on the table and you are waiting for Wanda to bring the drinks.

You have been munching your favorite chips while waiting for her.

“Okay, here’s your drink, my sweet.” Wanda hands you the drink. You take the drink and try to finish the chips in your mouth before you answer. “Yay! Thank you, princess.” You take a sip then put the drink down.

You have some more chips and try to finish the chips. Wanda notices that you chew in a rush.

"Baby?" She calls.

"Hm?" You tap her hands as a sign of your hum while busy chewing and turning your head to her.

"You know if you keep chewing like that you'll finish the chip before the movie even starts, right?" Wanda teases you with a question followed by a giggle.

"Well yeah, that was the point, love." You smile. Wanda squints her eyebrows a little as she tries harder to read your lips while you are chewing and talk at the same time.

"What? Why?" Wanda looks perplexed from your answer.

"Oh, I'm trying to finish them all before the movie starts because I don't want to be noisy with all the crunchy noise during the movie, so you can hear the movie better." You explained as you take more chips.

Wanda feels her heart melt instantly after hearing your reason, bubbles of joy fill her heart. Her smile shows up right away on her face.

Her hand grabs yours to stop you grabbing the chips. "Detka, that's very sweet of you. You don't have to do that, I still can hear it. Thank you very much for thinking that way."

"Are you sure? I thought you don't like crunchy food when you are watching a movie?" Now it's your turn being confused as you look at her.

Wanda laughs a little. "Well it's okay. I can still hear it. It's harder for me to hear it if I was the one that chew the crunchy snacks but thank you, y/n." She smiles once more and leans to you to give you a quick kiss on your cheek.

She snuggles up closer to you, wrapping her arms around you and looks at you with her sparkling green eyes, full of joy and thinking how lucky she is to have the thoughtful you in her life.

“What did I do to deserve you? Gosh, you are so adorable.” she says in a very loving, grateful tone.

You look at her with your blushing cheeks as usual, you don’t know how to react to her compliment for you because all you can do is smile and ask her back “What? What did I do?”

“Just being you, sweet and thoughtful to me.” she replies, followed by her giggle that always makes you want to laugh with her.

“Of course. You deserve everything.” You kiss her forehead and you hear her giggle more.

“Oh, the movie starts. Shall we watch it now?” you ask as soon as you notice the TV screen.

She nods with a smile.

_____

The first thirty minutes of the movie, both of you enjoy it together. The longer the movie passes, the more often you shift your position and it becomes too obvious for Wanda to notice.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You look at her with a nervous smile. “Yes, I am okay, love. Why?”

“Oh nothing. Your thoughts are pretty loud. I meant I don’t really know what you are thinking but I know for sure your mind is spinning right now. Like, you are nervous or worried about something.” Your Sokovian girlfriend explains her own conclusion from what she figures from your thoughts. Despite her power that can hear your thoughts, Wanda promises you that she will never invade the privacy of your mind. Being the overthinker you are, sometimes everything in your head can be pretty loud for her to at least feel them.

You are trying your best to not think too much so it won’t give Wanda a complete gift away on what you really have on plan.

You laugh, hoping that it will cover the truth. “Nervous? Why would I be nervous?” you asked apprehensively while you clear your throat. Bunch of thoughts bounce around in your head, memorizing things while preparing the right answer for any possible questions that Wanda might ask.

Seeing more obvious and a little unusual behaviors of yours, Wanda pauses the movie. Silence is all she wants right now so she can hear you just in case you are going to say something, but you don’t.

A concerned sigh went out of her lips. “Y/n, sweetheart. Look at me, please. Is everything okay? What’s wrong?��

You turn your body facing her now with your face looking down a little. You mumble a little and your hand slightly moves in a certain way as if you are rehearsing something.

“Babe, I can’t hear you and I can’t read your lips either. What did you say?” A line of confusion appears between her eyebrows. Her eyes try to look at your lips to read them.

You take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. “Okay..” you mumble once more under your breath then get on one knee.

You hold her hands and look into her eyes. Comfortable silence fills the room. “Wanda, my love.” The beautiful brunette in front of you looks so surprised with what she sees, not from what she reads on your lips because you didn’t say anything but your hands movements say it all.

You continue doing sign language for everything that you are about to say to her.

“I’m so glad that a year ago you came for my help at work and asked me where the beddings aisle was, because you were the sweetest and cutest woman I’ve ever met. My heart skipped a bit and knew that you were the one for me right then right away. Having a life with you in this past year has been the best privilege I ever have. Loving you is so easy because you are perfect and flawless. I want to keep going, having life and loving you for the rest of my life. So, Wanda, will you marry me?” you slow down your hand movement when you reach the last sentence to show more emotions in it and right after that, you grab the opened little box with a ring in it.

Wanda looks at you in awe and can’t hold back her happy tears. Joy warms her heart. She is touched by your effort and surprise at learning sign language, let alone proposing to her with it.

“Of course! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Due to how speechless she is from the enormous amount of happiness, Wanda’s hand did the sign language for her answer. She then pulls you to hug you and kiss you.

Several quick gentle kisses land on your lips and cheeks. You pull yourself back a little to see her joyful beautiful face. Wanda’s hand gently rubs your cheek and goes to the top of your head, caressing your hair as soon as you two end up snuggling on the couch.. Both of you looked at each other with the look of so much love.

“When did you learn sign language?” She questioned you in a curious tone. “Uh, Tony and Natasha have been helping me with it at the compound, plus he created this app that can help me learn more by myself whenever I can.”

“Wait, so all these overtime at work the last few months? You actually went to the compound to learn your proposal lines?” Wanda giggles and her cheeks blush at the same time.

“Yes, I have been going to the compound and no, I didn’t learn only the proposal lines. I learned everything. I know sign language now, only for you but I’m not a pro yet, so please bear with me.” you answer after you give a few more soft kisses all over her that draws more giggles from her.

“Aww, that’s really sweet. Thank you, y/n. I’m so lucky to have you.” Wanda expresses her genuine feelings.

“I love you, Wanda.”

Those words are the most beautiful words she ever reads on your lips that will always swoon her off her feet, fall for you over and over again.

“I love you too, my sweet.

A/n: Welp, that's all for today from me. I hope you enjoyed this short fluff. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @imdoingsortagay @marvelwoman-sugarbaby @savethefbees @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rain @cristin-rjd

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fluff #avengers au #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen character

431 notes · View notes

grimoireofhayley · 1 year

Text

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn’t aware of)

Word Count: 1.2k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie

A/N: I hope you all are enjoying this series so far, it’s going to be a long one! Let me know in the comments what you think about it thus far, what your favourite chapter is, or even part of a chapter. It makes my day reading your guys’ comments (: and it motivates me more to do more chapters! Also, I’m almost at 100 followers and I couldn’t be any more grateful 🥹 I’m thinking that once I hit the 100 mark, I’ll write a short story for said 100th follower of their choice! Or you guys can request any character for me to write about and a prompt on my page, it’ll make it a lot easier lol. Thank you ☺️ I hope you like this chapter!

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 6

The atmosphere was quickly illuminated by red, white and blue hues as the now-new crime scene unfolded in front and inside of your house.

“Jesus, (Y/n), what happened?” Tatum sprinted to your side, maneuvering under the caution tape and into your living room.

You sighed, rubbing your temples in slow-soothing circles, stress appearing in dark patches under your eyes.

“He was here…” You whispered, traumatized as the image of Steve’s heart flickered in your memories.

“Tatum, you shouldn’t be here. This is official police business, now.” Dewey scolded his younger sister, walking up beside her.

“Ugh, as if…” She rolled her eyes, “She’s staying with Sidney and I tonight. I was coming to pick her up…”

“That was still happening… even after the fight Sidney and I had?” You looked up at Tatum, momentarily forgetting about all the fuss that was going on around you.

“Yep, it’s a good thing too.” Tatum chuckled, sitting next to you. “I don’t care what happened between you and Sid earlier, you were my friend first and I’ll be damned if I let a bitch-fit between the two of you get in the way.” She nudged your shoulder, playfully. You smiled, but it quickly faded, hearing the staticky-voice over Dewey’s walkie-talkie.

“Dewey, you might want to come see this.” Sheriff Burke spoke, concern coaxing his words.

Your stomach twisted in all sorts of directions, squeezing tightly at the acid that was forming in it, causing it to travel up to your esophagus. You were ready to vomit, but you swallowed it, fighting the feeling, not wanting to go anywhere by yourself.

You wondered what Sheriff Burke meant.

“Right away, Sir.” Dewey spoke into his device, walking into the direction of where his boss was.

“So, what exactly happened, ( N/n)?”

“I got a phone call, then it quickly escalated from there…” You placed your hands over your face, futilely attempting to suffocate yourself with the pressure. “I thought nothing of it at first, but I-I was already getting the heebie-jeebies from the call, but he sounded genuine, so I ignored the feeling and kept talking to him…” You brought your hands to your lap, looking at Tatum, “Then the ph-phone went silent and at that exact moment, my doorbell r-rang…” You stumbled your sentence, struggling to find the proper words to continue explaining. “I was hesitant, so I peeped through the eyehole, trying to see if anyone was lurking about, but there was no one.” You sighed, “I decided I’d open the door, and you know, maybe get a better look, again, there was no one.” A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, take it easy..” Tatum tried to comfort you and brought you into a hug, you were quick to wrap your arms around her, squeezing her, as you whimpered.

“Th-There was this box, and I didn’t think twice before I brought it into my home… oh, god.” You sobbed, “His heart was in it, Tatum, his fuckin’ heart!” Your voice broke.

“Hold on, whose heart?” She asked, baffled by what she was hearing.

“Steve’s.” You let out a quiet mewl, hugging Tatum tighter.

“How do you know?”

“Because he said it in the note and I-I believe it.” You sobbed yet again, “That’s not e-even the worst part…”

As bad as that may sound, it was true, the heart in the box wasn’t your main concern, but the fact that he was watching you, that he admitted it over the note that he had sloppily written, that he stated it over the phone; he was there, he could have been in your house the entire time, waiting for a moment to strike.

You could have been his next victim, the next book Gale Weathers would’ve written about. However, what’s even more concerning is that you thought it was sweet that he’d given you one of your biggest heartbreaks in a box. Pun intended.

The killer gave you Steve Orth’s heart; the guy that gave you both hell and pure bliss behind closed doors. The guy who seen you at your most vulnerable, the one who continued to defile you even when he was in a relationship.

You had his heart, officially. That’s all you ever wanted, but that was months ago.

This was karma doing what she did best, revenge…

Did the killer know about the affair? The humiliation? Did he kill Steve just for you? No, he couldn’t have, but did he? Was he someone you knew? Probably not, but he could be. You’ll never know and it’s eating you up inside. Why make a grand gesture and not show who he is, or even give you a subtle hint of who it may be.

As much as it scared you, it also humbled you. It was romantic, but completely unnecessary, yet, you wanted to thank him. Thank the stranger; the killer, for doing God’s dirty work, or in this case, Karma’s.

What is wrong with you? For fuck’s sake, he killed two people, and probably will kill again. Why would you want to thank him for that, are you that depraved? Maybe.

“Earth to (Y/n)?” Tatum snapped her fingers in front of your face, startling you from the never ending thoughts that corroded your mind.

“S-Sorry, what?” You stuttered, wiping a single tear from your cheek.

“I thought I lost you there for a moment, Hun. Dewey wants to speak with you…” She smiled, lightly, nodding towards her brother who appeared out of nowhere.

“Okay.. yeah, y-yeah, for sure..” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

You pushed yourself off the couch, making your way to the kitchen with Dewey.

“We’re sending the heart and the box away for DNA testing to see if it actually is Steve’s heart, alright?” Dewey explained, “We also want to take the note…” He stopped, turning around, picking up some other object, “And this to see if the suspect had left any fingerprints.” He showed it to you, and you paled, but the colour soon came back to your face as you felt yourself blush.

You were met with a paper-white face with two hollowed eyes and a gaping mouth, it was a mask, a mask that looked utterly horrifying, yet, disturbingly attractive at the same time.

Was it wrong that you were starting to get wet from the sheer thought of a possible tall and muscular man killing for you, wearing this mask?

Probably, but you didn’t care.

You squeezed your thighs together, putting pressure on your heat, trying to not let it slide that the mask was getting you off.

“We found this outside in the bushes by your house.” Dewey said, “Have you seen it before?”

You shook your head, biting your lip, you’ve never seen that before in your life, you’d be sure to remember it if you did. Though, now that you did see it, it wasn’t going to leave your mind, especially with how it was making you feel.

‘It almost looks like a Ghost Fac—‘ You cut yourself off mid thought.

“G.F…” You mumbled at no one in particular, “That’s what it stands for, Ghost Face, the killer dubbed himself as Ghost Face…”

<- Previous Next ->

540 notes · View notes

kaihuntrr · 1 month

Text

Baby, you'll never find a love like mine. <3 (The Sea Prince; art and updates as of August)

what's this? pearleo content? for the majorwood fanfic? yep! just had the motivation to do this piece, and it's been a while since I updated y'all with art and the goings on, especially as act one wraps up soon!

anyway, to new peeps i'll leave the link to the fic below the pic, and i'll have some updates down below if interested! thank you for your time, have the slow slowburn that is pearleo <3

hooo boy, its been a while! i'll keep this update short and sweet since, if i say anything more, it might be a spoiler? i still want to keep things all nice and quiet for a few things coming up ;>

first and foremost, act one is coming to a close this october 18th! i know this since i plotted it out + i do want it to end on my birthday, ehe! act two is steadily working away (currently writing up chapter 6, hoping to get into gear for writing when nanowrimo hits + during my break from college, which is right now!) with current plans of it being either mid-november to early january for its scheduled release. its exciting!

and as act two is making its progress, i do want to have another call for beta readers! the ones that served me for act one have been great, but i do ask for more consistent and easy to communicate ones- i don't want to name anyone, but i don't like getting ghosted for months on end, aha-!

my good co-writer/editor @mewhoismyself and i are doing our best to give y'all the quality <3 its been really fun, and i hope to continue improving my craft as act one reaches its high point, and for act two to set the scene for another year-long journey <3

thank you all so much for all the wonderful reception act one has been, and here's to its ending and for act two prepares its arrival!

46 notes · View notes

chiyoso · 10 months

Text

update

hi pookie. to those who read this the first time, welcome back, this is a re-write. an update. i kinda found the initial update i did rushed, not clearly descriptive of my situation outside this writing hobby of mine. also for the ones that i tagged, i have notes for you <3 (sorry for the tag 🫶🏻)

alright. hello hello. i'm chiyo, a jjk-focused/sporadic genshin and hsr fanfic writer, and you've caught me, and this blog in such bad time, and im so, so very fucking burnt out.

writing for me should be fun, stress relieving, and that goes for any other hobby i have. i have been told and supported countless of times to take a rest, to take a break from this, but my stubborn ass continues to try and get something out, anything to keep my blog alive, hells, it feels like a toxic relationship where i keep coming back, because i remember all the fun, happy and fond times i had in this app, only then to return to why it becomes draining, exhausting.

just sat there, occasionally laid on my back, using my phone, but with unmoving thumbs, with a brain lacking the world that needs the narrative to make a story, fuck, where has it gone?

that innocent, startup of mine, the newfound love and interest for that world of fiction that you all create. dude, i remember being so happy discovering that this brain of mine can conjure up so many shit, all because of your words, it's fucking amazing. hence, the start of the era of my honkai star rail writing journey. (hsr/hi3rd fans who followed me, i let you down with my jujutsu kaisen brainrot obsession im sorry lmao)

“take a break hira,” “take a break chiyo,” “please, take a break.”

i've heard it all, and with utmost love and respect, thank you.

thank you for everything, every word, every action, and every peep of interest you all had for me. small and big creators, who, stopped by because of my small percent chance drop in on their feed, because of the stories i created that you shared, i've met so many wonderful, inspring and motivating people in tumblr, fuck, i didn't expect to crrate a little community all by myself, with my grit alone, it's so rewarding for someone who strives for perfection, for someone who struggles with her mental health daily, for someone who deluded themselves in a world of fiction, I can't express my genuine gratitude enough.

i'm not quitting. maybe i should've mentionrd that earlier to prevent you from getting rattled, but continuing off, i don't find myself quitting this writing journey, maybe i'm just not in the right mental headspace for it at this time. damn, my ex really fucked me up LMAO.

right, i'm aware of the less and lessening interactions i've had with the people i've encountered throughout tumblr, i feel sick of myself for not being able to catch up, nor interact with any of you as much as i could anymore, it really, really fucking sucks, i hate it, i hate it, i do.

i still have leftover projects to go over and publish, because i still want MY ideas, MY thoughts, MY worlds of fictional prowess to all of you. i'm not done, but i will say, that i'm- i'm so incredibly, so very sorry to the ones that were highly, to the heavens, expecting greatness from me, to the ones who were anticipating my unfinished stories, fuck, there's so much to do, yet my body, my mind, they do not respond, as if i'm losing my sense of time, literally.

all i can say to those sticking with me because of their plain interest for me, i wish, i pray, i'll beg, beg for me, my soul, my mind, my body, my spirit to heal, and heal faster, so i can love you all at my 100%, not with my trying 20%, and lower.

thank you. to the old, and to the recent supporters that got me to 3k followers and counting, fuckin' wild. actually insane.

i'll continue to write. i'll continue to create. i don't want to quit.

i don't want to leave the only thing that gave me freedom, and the genuine happiness the first time, making me discover shit about myself, and there's that.

p.s. apologies for my jjk brainrot everyone who followed for genshin and hsr <3 also that one popular otome game, love & deepspace? yeah, that shit's also fucking me up so good.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: (lawd i feel bad for tagging)

@ainescribe @wanderingconstellations @teapartyspilled @v3lv3tf0x @ciarchivez ⸻ you fucking OGS. literally five pillars of my life, the cheerleaders, my absolute undying support of this blog, you saw me at my noob tumblr handling form, the lows, the highs, and the absolute peaks, i consider all of you special, i do, you all made tumblr and the writing community such a fun place for me. thank you, thank you, i just can't spam that voiceline enough.

@peachdues @screampied @chuluoyi @blkkizzat @jabamin @flametrashira @meowzfordayz ⸻ you superstar mutuals of mine. we've only interacted sporadically, PLEASE BLAME MY BURNOUT AND COLLEGE SCHEDULE FOR THAT, but all of you invoked so much burning hope, and motivation for me through your stories, AND your interests for me, whether it'd be something about my themes, edits, stories, it doesn't matter, you all took interest in lil' ol me, despite what, being such big content creators? FUCK??? that's insane. thank you.

god, i seriously wish my schedule would just clear up by a fuckton, and then again, i was the one who took psychology and performing arts 💤 i hope, hope HOPE i get to interact with you all again once i take a leave/break from college.

⸻ with all my love, chiyo.

#ugh fuck. help.

69 notes · View notes

giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

*slinks into your inbox like the Grinch to the fridge*

I waited a couple days to try and give other people a chance to request something from you, but since you still have some slots open, how can I not jump in? 🤩

I'm gonna circle back to an oldie for this one if I may! Platonic!KageHina has been on my mind a lot recently and I just LOVE your fics for them so much, friend! Perhaps something a bit more casual? Like just hanging out chatting turns into something? I don't have an exact scenario in mind; I just know you've done some volleyball-related ones for them in the past and thought it could be neat to shake it up a bit. But whatever you wanna do, I trust your writing judgement with my life! Thank you in advance and remember to drink water! 💖

Girl the way I CACKLED! kkarjkaerkjajrkeawjk That opening was amazing! And the prompt EEE! I haven't written for Platonic!Kagehina in awhile, so this was a delight! I've gotcha covered!

CW: swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

“Is it good?” Hinata asked, watching as Kageyama took a hesitant sip. A new boba shop opened up recently, something the tiny redhead insisted on going to. “We’ve never had it before! Come on!” Was all he said before practically dragging Kageyama with him.

The brunette sat back, letting the taste settle on his tongue. Then: “Yeah. It’s pretty good.”

“Not much of a reaction.” Hinata laughed, leaning away when the other offered a sip. “No thanks- I don’t like milk.”

“What- what do you think our drinks are made out of?” Kageyama blinked, watching the redhead suck on his bright orange beverage.

“Juice!” He cried with a grin, teeth pumpkins. “It’s way better! Want some?”

“Nah- I don’t like orange juice.”

“Huh.” Hinata hummed, the two sitting side by side sipping on their drinks. Then- “Why not?”

“Too sour. Makes my face hurt.”

“This isn’t sour at all. I got extra sugar in it.”

“You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls. Not that you haven’t been doing that already.”

“Oh please- like you’re so above that.” Hinata snorted, looking at the creamy boba tea Kageyama held. “Is that sweet?”

“Don’t know. Want a sip to find out?”

“No way. Milk’s gross.”

“That’s why you're short.”

“Oi!” Hinata puffed as Kageyama smirked. “I’m not short- you’re just too tall! You’re built like a stalk of celery.”

“Better than being built like a baked bean.” Those were fighting words, but Kageyama didn’t stop himself from saying them. He quickly moved their drinks aside before it could be knocked over, Hinata’s cries of war nearly muffled as he was knocked flat onto the bench they shared.

“Take it back right now!” Hinata demanded, fingers already in action. Kageyama didn’t even get a chance to reply before he was fighting down the giggles rising in his throat. “Take it back, you celery looking jerk! Take it back I say!”

“Ne-nehehever!” He cried out, halfheartedly shoving at the hands pawing at his stomach. “Bahahhaked beahhan b-bohohoke!”

Hinata gasped at the alliteration, clutching his pearls. “You-you-you son of a- that’s it! I’ll show you what this baked bean can do!” Motivated, Hinata put all his energy into tickling the other, grabbing Kageyama’s wrist and pulling it overhead. Once there, he took his other hand and slowly began walking it up his side, pressing in sharply with each step. “Coochie coochie coo! A tickle tickle tickle Tobi-Toe!”

“GAH!” The setter all but yelped at the touch, arching some before dissolving into giggles. “Yoohohohou ahahahahss! Dohohoohn’t- noohohoht the bahahhahaby tahahhaalk! Geahhahahahaha!”

“Yes baby talk! Babies love milk, so that makes you one! A coochie coochie coo!” Hinata made his voice extra sweet- talking like a mother to her newborn as he viciously dug into the center rib along Kageyama’s side. It was a terrible spot- one that nearly sent him flying with how hard the other writhed. “Who’s a ticklish whittle baby? You are! You are!”

“SHUHUHUT UUHUUHP! SHHIHIHIHT! YOHOOHOU AHAHAHASS!” Kageyama cackled, squeezing his eyes shut as he kicked his feet against the bench. Oh how he was gonna destroy this little turd! “MOHOOHOVE SOOHOHOEMWHEHEHERE EHEHEHLSE!”

“Huh? What?” Hinata paused his tickles briefly as he leaned in, a hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you- you’re far too quiet! Wanna try again, whitt-”

His teases were quickly ended when Kageyama flipped the tables- literally. How he managed to keep them on the bench in doing so amazed him, but there was no time to wonder. “Thehehere, you ahahahss! I’hihill show yoohou who’s the bahahaby here!” Kageyama was quick to repeat Hinata’s previous move, grabbing his wrist and going straight for a bad spot. The redhead didn’t stand a chance.

“AHHH!” Hinata shrieked like he was in a horror movie, quickly dissolving into laughter as Kageyama dug into his stomach. “Kahahhahahahhagehhehahahhhaha! Mehahahahhahahaha nooohohoht my behehehehlly! Geahahhahaha pleahhahahahhse!”

“Hmm, no. You get what you get.” The setter snickered, an idea coming to mind as he shoved up Hintatas shirt. “Don’t think I forgot your little comment earlier, Boke. Tobi-toe, huh?”

“Yeahhahahah cahahhsue youohohu lohoohohook like a tohoohohie-EHEHEHEHEH!” Hinata arched with a loud squeal as Kageyama dragged his finger against warm skin, drawing out a tic tac toe grid. “Wahahhait wahahhaait whahahhahat?”

“X’s or O’s?” Kageyama asked, tapping the center “square” rapidly as Hinata struggled to think. “Pick before I decide for you.”

“Eheheheheh! Fihihihine, fihihiihne Oohohohohs!” Hinata cried, giggling harder as Kageyama scratched out an “x” on the center square. “Nohohohoo fahahahir, I shoohoohuld get to gohohoho first!”

“Too bad. Where do you want your “O”?”

“Ehehahhahah! Gehahahhaha- uuhuhuuhper mihihihidle-EHEH!” Hinata kicked as an “O” was drawn. One after the other- x’s and o’s were “sketched” into his stomach, leaving him a squealing, shrieking mess. Eventually leading to…

“Damn, a drawl.” Kageyama hummed- drawing out a massive “C” across the entire graph. Hinata was near silent with mirth, wheezing against the crook of his trapped arm as he gasped for air. Seeing this, Kageyama stopped his tickles- waiting patiently for the tiny jumper to catch his breath. “Want me to stop?”

“Hehe..hehehe..” The ginger giggled. He whispered something- so quiet Kageyama couldn’t quite hear him. With his free hand, he gestured him closer.

“I said…” Hinata began, only to quickly grab at Kageyama’s side. “Take that!” The setter yelped and collapsed against him, cackling the entire time. Soon their controlled tickle fight turned into an all out brawl- their hands poking and grappling at each other's tickle spots as their laughter filled the area all around. Eventually, everything came to an end when they rolled off the bench.

To their amazement post the tickle fight- they somehow avoided their drinks. Small victories.

~~~

“Heh..hehehe..whhohooho one?” Hinata giggled out, haphazardly flopping into Kageyama’s side as he gasped for air. Kageyama wasn’t any better, leaning back into him as he wiped mirthful tears away from his eyes.

“Hell..I dooohohn’t know. Truhuuhce?” He asked, humming as Hinata nodded. Reaching out, he blindly reached out for his drink, bringing it to his lips.

“Mm!” He yelped when his tongue was assaulted by citrus. He grabbed the wrong one. “Oh….oh.” He took another sip, nodding. “You know…that’s not bad.”

Hinata blinked, then he reached across the other- grabbing the milk tea. After a few sips, he nodded. “You know….I still hate milk.”

Kageyama sputtered so hard it came out his nose. Hinata cackled, falling on his back as he laughed and laughed- Kageyama practically in tears once more against him as he did the same.

Thanks for reading!

#haikyuu!!#tickle #tickle fic #fluff #platonic #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #platonic!kagehina #boba #dorks #the boys being besties your honor

47 notes · View notes

endless-season · 5 months

Text

9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

tagged by @defeateddetectives /o/

3 ships you like: *looks into void* do I even have 3 proper ships

1) MikoIzuTotsu (Suoh Mikoto x Kusanagi Izumo x Totsuka Tatara) - K

And no one was surprised. I MEAN ITS BEEN OVER TEN YEARS. BUT A GOOD CHUNK OF THOSE TEN YEARS WERE DEDICATED TO HOMURA TRIO (well technically... the real answer is Totsuka Tatara however we will ignore that for the sake of this meme). Get yourself two others who will go through it all with you thick or thin. Get yourself a leash i mean what. Get yourself a Kusanagi-san! Settle down in a bar and raise i mean gather a gang family!

2) Qin Jiu x You Huo - Global Examination

Felt obligated to include them since I'm currently trying to drag ppl to read this lmao. Also bc i have no ships to answer with, help. BUT THE CHEMISTRY! I mean, this is probably the first time I clearly see what people mean by the word ~ chemistry ~. Qin Jiu is such a chaotic menace, You Huo is such a chaotic menace, they are similar but also different and then put them together and everyone suffers, it's beautiful *wipes tear*. But they are also so so so soft together (i was going to say, in private.... but also in front of people's salad so!!!) *clutches heart*. The author, 木苏里 just does a create job exploring the two throughout the story, READ GLOBAL EXAMINATION! THERE'S ALSO AN ONGOING MANHUA THAT COVERS LIKE A THIRD. DO IT. and then send me liveblogs pls and thanks.

3) H-h-help... ships... are hard... I... don't ...

first ship ever: IzuTotsu (Kusanagi Izumo x Totsuka Tatara) - K Shamelessly links to that post where I sobbed over everything #Actual Marriage Goals The trust! The intuitive understanding! The communication! (sorry Mikoto, your grunting fails you) The ~ G o S s i P i n g ~ ! The mutual support and comfort ;_;! The domesticity of it all! The quipping and doting! The we're all in this (this = Mikoto doom but with matching wing tattoos) together! The seemless division of labor haha

last song you heard: i turned on my playlist when i saw this question so that by the time i finish answering the meme and come back to this question, i will have an answer… Anyways, so the answer is…. ~ wHAT A coINcindENce ~ Dark Night Fireworks, Lucien's season 1 theme from MLQC.

favourite childhood book: Uh........ idk.... Deltora Quest? Alex Rider series? If manga counts then maybe Detective Conan? lmao.

currently reading: I’m Not Shouldering This Blame (这锅我不背) Current novel in my danmei binging spree. 40 chaps in, enjoying it so far. Synopsis gives a pretty good idea of what to expect. Hordes of book transmigrators trying to derail or benefit from knowing the plot, military dealing with the supernatural mess and notifying MC and ML who are supposedly the villains, MC... just trying to work in peace cmon, ML... just trying to seduce MC cmon.

currently watching: Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End Just finished it over the last few days hence why there's a few posts in my queue. It’s nice and chill. I admit I was eyeing Himmel the moment he appeared in the first episode and didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his instant transformation / flashforward to old bald man. Was pleasantly surprised to see him appearing constantly in flashbacks haunting the narrative ethereal dead wife style lmao.

currently consuming: I waited for dinner to write this! Was lazy tonight so just a bunch of easy to prep in 5 min sides. Rice, Prawn dumplings, Chilli Bamboo (Fu Chi brand), Century Egg + Tofu + Pork floss, Smashed cucumber salad that I managed to ruin :/

currently craving: A reason to live A shiny new satisfying fandom obsession... Motivation and energy and wisdom to adult... A yakult and WangLaoJi... ... ...... *walks to fridge and grabs yakult and wanglaoji*

---

A rare meme where I'm gonna actually tag!!! See what ppl are up to and eating these days >:)

@qserasera @chiaki-c @nervous-sheep @alice-chan-chan @jelly-cooperation

@laxmiree @caesurables @pu-san @vanishing-apples @dijeh

@ittybi @ellie-winthrope @bloomingmitsuri @a-justaway-is-just-a-justaway @constastan

As usual feel free to skip if tagged or do even if not tagged :> Edit: why is tagging not working *squints*

#askbox #k stuff #i havent used that tag in ages #stuff i post #placeholderrrrrrr #k project #global examination #frieren

22 notes · View notes

lacunafiction · 1 year

Note

Can't wait for Book 2. Will we see more of the peeps that gave us a ride out of fernweh when we were a kiddo? I really like Herb and the pickup truck guy (sorry I genuinely dont remember his name :( ) I don't know why but since I bought the book on the release day, I kinda just somehow have been thinking about them from time to time. I wonder how they're doing now, are they fine? Do we get more moments or flashbacks with them? That would be nice. Thanks for taking the time to write this book and the rest of the trilogy.

Hi Anon,

I hope you're doing well! 💚

First, I have some good news for you: TFS isn't a trilogy series. It's outlined to be at least five books. 😊 I'm already working on Book Two, which is tending to have longer, more varied chapters, and I've just begun teasing that alpha content will be available on TFS Patreon starting in May! Hopefully, this is heartening for you to hear.

The first book is about your return to Fernweh along with reconnecting and forming natural starts to the romances before you delve deeper now that you can't go anywhere you can spend more time with your RO(s). Both the romances and the mysteries will only deepen next book. You'll see this in what I plan to eventually release.

It's awesome that you've been thinking about the MC's ride out of town! Also, no worries about the names (Basil (you had the right spirit with 'Herb' 😁; I love it!) and Bertie is the other.) I've not seen too many theories about them, so I like that you're not only bringing them up but also wondering about how they are/their impact on the story.

I'm going to have to give a bit of a non-answer. (I'm sorry!)

But, I will say making them have distinct backgrounds and implied personalities (e.g. how Bertie would wrestle a bear for the MC versus Basil who is more fun-loving and made the MC top tier snacks) was more than just flavor text. 👀 We will have to see when they come up again.

Thank you for your kind words and support; both are very motivating as I continue to lose myself in Fernweh. 🌲😌

#fernweh saga #interactive fiction #who do queue think you are?#tfs spoilers #fernweh saga spoilers #tfs driver

119 notes · View notes

halfhoursonearth-writes · 2 months

Note

hii not a question just wanted to send an encouraging message that there are peeps out there ✨patiently✨ waiting for your writing updates <3 even if i have to wait years I WILL BE THERE TO READ!! you write zutara so so beautifully. ty for your service to our community 🫡🤍

ahhhh THANK YOU 🥹🥹 This encouragement means so much. It's also really motivating.

I really love the Zutara community and writing in a space that is so generous with both creativity and support. I read fanfic for more than a decade before I ever wrote any, and I know the way I feel about the authors I've been willing to follow across years. It's such an honor to think that anyone feels that way about my work.

I definitely don't work at the pace I wish I could and am always grateful for the patience/not giving up on reading. I'm still working away on the next chapter of But Who's Counting? I had to do quite a bit of rewriting, but I'm finally working on a draft that I like.

Ty again for the kind words, for reading, and for taking the time to let me know!!!!! It really made my day 🩵

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara fanfic #but who's counting?

9 notes · View notes

possum-quesadilla · 1 month

Text

New chapter of Time’s Arrow, “Good luck, babe! You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling” is up! Everyone say “thank you, concussion.” (Don’t actually. It sucks.) THIS CHAPTER IS PARTICULARLY ROUGH. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

As always, here are the extras!

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are from “Good Luck, Babe!” By Chappell Roan! I think it is pretty self explanatory, haha.

- The songs for this chapter are “A Deer Mistaking Candles for Headlights” by Crywank, “Racehorse: Get Married!” By Jordaan Mason, “bad idea!” By girl in red, “Gross” by Penelope Scott, “maggot belly” by awfultune, “Lavender” by Penelope Scott, “Personal” by Stars, “Little Soldiers” by The Crane Wives, “Butch 4 Butch” by Rio Romeo, and, of course, “Good Luck, Babe!” By Chappell Roan!

- “ “Go! Class starts in…” he leaned away, squinting hard at the clock on the wall just outside the kitchen. “… some.. amount of time.” “… I need to take you to the optometrist.” The teen opened the door and went to step outside, ignoring the demon’s ‘huh?’.” - Beetlejuice’s eyesight suuuuucks. They’ve never been to an eye doctor, or even heard of one. They really need glasses. Perhaps they will get some soon!

- “The very thought of the feeling of food in his mouth, of the savory and salty tastes and mushy textures overwhelming his senses made his stomach turn. But the tug at his non-functional heart strings at the image of Barbara’s disheartened expression was stronger, more painful.” - Not the best motivation to eat, but honestly, any motivation can be good motivation when you’re having trouble getting yourself to eat!

- “Did anyone see you? You barely pass as human, and you’re a stranger in this town. Did anyone bother you? Are you alright?” “Geez, Chuck, when-” “Where have you been?! Do you know how late it is, young man?” - Get parent-ed, idiot!

- “‘Young man’? I am neither of those.” - This is a cheeky reference to a similar joke in “Good Omens”!

- “… English isn’t my best language.” “What others do you know?” “.. let’s put a pin in that convo, D-Dog. Your energy is distracting in the best way.” “Aww, thank you!” - a little peak at Beej and Delia’s friendship. I will probably expand more on it if I ever write the extra chapters!

- “Charles furrowed his brows. “Where did you get that laptop?” ” … “… where did you get that one?” - He stole them.

- “ “The what?” Charles sat up straight, brows knit in… concern? Beetlejuice wasn’t sure.” - he is not used to parental concern! Get cared about, fool!

- “… ‘Surely the average White River townie will be petrified by your demonic beauty!’” He chuckled to himself. He thought perhaps he imagined Barbara, Adam, and Delia laughing as well. “First of all, thank you, you’re too kind.” ” - A little peep at the smug, braggy little guy he used to be! And yes, they did laugh at his joke in agreement. He just doesn’t want to hear it because he can’t accept love.

- “Semi-tamed curly hair, now brown with irritating grey streaks he couldn’t get rid of. Manic honey-brown eyes instead of yellow serpentine ones, blemishes on his face instead of moss. Skin now pink, but still pale.” - yeah, basically just Alex Brightman, just with brown, curly hair. Surprise!

- “…wrist-length black driving gloves to cover his blackened fingertips.” - This, along with a line later on, is heavily inspired by the character Theo from “The Haunting of Hill House”. See if you can spot it! She similarly is very sensitive, and wears gloves to avoid direct physical contact with others.

- “They hate it. Fuck. Maybe next-day delivery holy water is still an option?” - ABSOLUTELY NOT

- “They look like a substitute teacher.” - Dewey Finn reference! I see a lot of Beetlejuice fans talking about the “School of Rock” musical. I’ve only seen the movie, and I love it. Should I give it a listen?

- “ “They look… nice.” Adam’s cheeks were flushed a dark pink. Barbara let out a delighted giggle as she rubbed her hands over his facial hair. “What a professional little man!” ” - They think he is so handsome. Barbara cannot control her cuteness aggression.

- “Lydia, pumpkin, I don’t want the people of this town thinking of me as a scoundrel. He obviously is too old to be E-.. Emily’s son.” - He’s trying his best to keep Emily relevant and talked about!! It’s just a bit hard still. Also, yeah, no one would really believe the man with greying hair was spawned from Charles and Emily.

- “He hadn’t been opposed to people thinking he was his son.” - he has never been called someone’s son in a positive way! New experience unlocked!

- “He was… happy. Light. Warm. He felt like he could rip apart a car with his teeth.” - like yours truly, Beetlejuice gets the urge to bite and rip things apart with his teeth when he is excited.

- “ “… I’ll tell folks I’m a distant Maitland relative. Maybe a cousin!” Beetlejuice grabbed Lydia’s arm, going to pull her out the door, missing the way Adam and Barbara wrinkled their noses at the word ‘cousin’.” - I wonder why they were so opposed to him being called a cousin? Hmmm.

- “Beetlejuice slides the Book across the counter and holds out a pen. “Have you heard about our Loyalty Program?” ” - what a weird, suspicious insistence he has. I wonder why that ‘Book’ is capitalized. Surely that must be an error? ;)

- “He bolts off, excusing that he needs to go find Percy and put him in ‘extreme air jail’.” - ‘Extreme air jail’ is when he floats off the ground while holding Percy up. Like regular air jail, but extreme.

- “Aftershave. Tung oil. Black tea. Tea-tree oil and nicotine.” - the smells, respectively, are from Charles, Adam, Barbara, and Delia! Delia smells like her vape pen a bit.

- “Lydia released the demon’s hands, slowly stepping behind them. “I’m behind you, alright? I’m gonna take your blindfold off.” ” - Lydia educated herself on his triggers and is careful not to come up behind him/touch his back or chest without letting him know first!

- “The walls had a familiar striped wallpaper applied to them..” - they recreated the striped walls from when Beej took over the house!

- “… pocketed figurines of various horror characters and stupid-looking colorful monsters. (Adam had called them “pokay-men”?)” - Beetlejuice stole a bunch of Pokémon funko pops without knowing anything about them, except that Adam likes them.

- Two “Lisa Frankenstein” references! The poster, as well as the name of a character later.

- “The ceiling was lined with familiar gentle string lights, the bulbs giving off a soft yellow glow.” - gentle lighting for his sensitive eyes, courtesy of Adam and Barbara! He never really turns on the overhead lights.

- “A large, fuzzy, purple rug covered most of the hard concrete floor.” - Delia picked this out for him! She knows how much he loves Floor Time.

- “… seemingly home-made black and white quilt..” - Barbara made it herself!

- “.. and a rotund black cat plush Lydia had ordered off of Amazon and claimed was for herself.” - it is a squishmallow. Beej still has no idea what they are, but Lyds got one just for him!

- “.. even a rocking chair covered in a bright green fleece blanket in the corner-” - Charles picked out that blanket after seeing how much Beetlejuice enjoyed the fleece blanket on the guest bed!

- “Like Dad said, you deserve your own space, big guy.” - ‘Dad’ is capitalized like that because Lydia considers Charles both her and Beej’s dad now.

- “They still aren’t sure what to do, way later that night, as they lie in their very own bed for the first time. They’d never had a space of their own.” - yeah, he’s never had his own bed. Or room. He mostly slept on the floor growing up, sometimes under a stove!

- “.. as he stared up at the multitude of gently glowing green stars plastered on the ceiling.” - Delia heard that his name is based on a star, so she got these and carefully plotted them out to match the real night sky/constellations!

- “ “I was only thirteen, Beetlejuice.” … “I dunno, Sexy. Arson is a pretty mild form of revenge. I was doin’ a lot worse for a lot less at that age.” ” - Beetlejuice had suggested that Adam should’ve set a bully’s backpack on fire.

- “And you don’t wanna put your weapon up against your victim’s back. Makes it real easy for them to just take it from ya.” - This is true! A little bit of self defense advice!

- “Do you get all your mugging tools at Home Depot? God/Satan, you’re butch.” And “My tit!” - These are both “Jennifer’s Body” references. I couldn’t help myself.

- “… red sleeveless sweater, frowning at the blood-stained button-up underneath. “My.. good friend gave me this stupid, tacky sweater vest…” ” - Yeah he dresses like his human disguise like Dewey Finn because of Adam.

- “It was tacky and itchy and smelled like mothballs, but it was still something one of his favorite ghosts had given him.” - Beetlejuice savors every single thing given to him, because no one really ever gave him presents before.

- “Don’t say Barbara, don’t say Barbara- “Ba-.. Bab… Babette.” What the fuck was that? Babette? “Yeah. Babette… ” ” - Of course, the town remembers Adam and Barbara, so he has to call them by other names. ‘Babette’ is what he thought of on the spot.

- Suprise! Ash is Sky the Girl Scout’s sister! Her full name is “Ashlyn Swallows”, but she only wants to go by “Ash”.

- “Fuuuuck.” … “ “.. damn. That… that, uh… poor girl..” Fuck, the Maitlands and Charles and Delia are going to be so mad when they hear about this.” - Asshole Beej, my beloved. He only cares about his own humans, and not at all how he impacts anyone outside his circle.

- “…and a fair wage from my own pocket.” - So the business doesn’t suffer from the absurd amount of money he is going to pay this kid.

- “Beetlejuice’s ear flicked at the sound of her heartbeat quickening, the jewelry clinking irritably.” - Yeah he hates the jewelry, but he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to Cyrus’ gifts.

- “… yeah. I didn’t realize she’d remember, though.” - Hmm. I wonder if anyone else remembers things that occurred during the loop?

- “… and Barbara enjoyed the occasional sniff of his glass.” - Since she can’t drink the wine, Beetlejuice is letting her smell it instead. Not the same, but it’s still nice!

- “Barbara was sat right up next to him on the couch, leaning on his side and keeping an arm loosely around his midsection.” … “They try their best not to melt at Barbara’s touch as she starts to gently scratch at their chin.” … “His ears went back at the delighted little squeak from Barbara, but he relaxed as she wrapped her arms around him and tightly squeezed. “There he is!” Beetlejuice felt his tail quivering as he wrapped one arm around her in turn. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m the most handsome devil you’ve ever seen.” The ghost softly huffed. “It’s true!” ” - Barbara is laying it on THICK. Too bad Beetlejuice’s skull is thicker!

- “.. the demon jumped as Delia leaned in close, scrunching up his nose at the smell of wine on her breath, the sudden increase in all of the sounds of her body functioning. Lungs expanding, blood flowing, joints creaking. It was much harder to ignore when she was that close.” - Beej is constantly overwhelmed by the noises everything makes, especially since he’s not taking care of his sensory needs.

- “The demon slowly let out a breath once Delia leaned back into her place again, his grip on Barbara tightening. Why was it so hard to allow humans to be close?” - BECAUSE HE DOESN’T PAY ATTENTION TO HIS SENSORY NEEDS. And also people suck sometimes.

- “He glanced down at the ghost, hurriedly looking away and taking a swig of his wine when he found her staring up at him with a soft, fond look in her eyes.” - Oh, he’s big stupid. Thankfully, Barbara likes her men just a wee bit stupid.

- “Beetlejuice slurred, finishing off his glass. He went to release Barbara and reach out to refill it, but she gripped onto him tighter.” … “He felt the wine glass be tugged from his grip.” - Barbara decided he had enough, and is gently cutting him off here.

- “(If anything, at least the alcohol was dulling the horrid sounds of the house settling, of the wind blowing and clouds churning, of the distant call of the cicadas. He could no longer feel how tight the stupid dress shirt was, feel his own teeth sitting in his skull. It was nice. Perhaps he should drink more often.)” - unfortunately, a staggering amount of adults with autism use alcoholism to cope with symptoms they have yet to learn how to properly cope with, and to help them better socialize.

- “Just like there’s some stupid part of me that’ll always hope my Ma will turn herself around and start carin’ about me.” - AUGH. The anguish of having abusive parents. Some stupid hard-wired part of your brain is always hopeful they’ll just decide to be good one day.

- “… kids are great like that. They’re made with this…. Hard wired love for their parents.” … “I always thought.. it would be great to take all the love I had saved up for her, all the love she never returned, and… pass it on.” - HE JUST WANTS TO LOVE AND BE LOVED SO BAD OKAY?? I’m not crying you are

- “He titled his head back a bit to look at Adam, in his pajamas, without his glasses, staring the demon down with the most sorrowful expression he’d ever seen on a human being. It hurts worse than the ritual, worse than the glass window, worse than centuries of solitude. This is all you do, Lawrence. You hurt others, and you hurt yourself. His mother’s voice is always in the back of his mind, but it’s so clear now.” - Adam is feeling sympathy and/or empathy, like a normal person, but Beej is taking it as him hurting Adam by being the way that he is.

- “ “B-but they… I could never…” The Maitlands hold him tightly. Barbara gently shushes him, running her fingers through his hair. He didn’t have to finish. She knew. They shared that pain, together. They’d had a long, tearful conversation one night, during their year in the loop. It was the closest he’d ever felt to human, even considering the times he was actually human.” - I will leave this up to interpretation within the confines of Time’s Arrow. I may expand upon it in one of the extra chapters, maybe write out the conversation they had, but for now I will allow readers to come to their own conclusions, since this breaches topics I am currently not fully equipped/educated to write about.

- “ “Maybe you can distribute that love elsewhere.” It wasn’t too bad an idea. But where?” - Delia is suggesting to turn that love inwards, and to maybe also distribute it to Lydia and the Maitlands. But Beej is daft.

- “ “Pink’s a great color on you,” Delia says, patting his cheek before she turns to head back towards the living room. He couldn’t disagree more.” - YOU DESERVE LOVE. CARE IS A GOOD LOOK ON YOU. Oh god he isn’t listening.

- “Sleep finally finds them. They aren’t sure how they made it down into their room, or how they were able to change into a cozy sweatshirt and pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts. But somehow, they did.” - Adam and Barbara carefully and very respectfully helped him change!

- “As they took a wary little sip of the old, undiluted wine,” - Greek wine from waaay back when had to be diluted. Undiluted, it is way too strong and bitter.

- “ “Beetlejuice, when was the last time you drank water?” .. “I had a Dr. Pepper last week.” .. “Who gave you a Dr. Pepper?” “Wh- I’m a grown demon! I can get myself a Dr. Pepper!” Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. He scoffed, looking down at the counter. “Fine. Ash did.” ” - this is both based on a bit from Game Grumps and also a conversation I had with a friend.

- “For that hour before the two of them had to leave, Beetlejuice instead listened. At first it was frantic, confused. Then the conversation was light and breezy. Teasing, joking, excitedly comparing interests. He knew he had to make them meet from the moment Ash mentioned cinematography. Neither of them had many friends other than him, from what he’d heard. And he was sure Ash didn’t consider him a friend regardless. I’m a genius.” - My guy thinks he is the master of meet-cutes. He needs to meet-cut it out and go to therapy. (Next chapter can’t come soon enough…)

- “Their tongue and throat burned with the remains of that horrible sticky, iron taste.” … “Energy, revitalized from this latest sacrifice, buzzed through their whole being..” - Yeah he is accepting sacrifices of human blood from Cyrus’ cult. That is how he is getting the energy and strength to resist the Seal.

- “They desperately grasp Cyrus’ hands. They fumble, head burning and spinning, as they guide his hands to their throat. The demon quirks an eyebrow at them curiously. “Hurt me,” they rasp, their words almost slurring together. “Hurt me like you did before.” ” - DRUNKEN CONSENT IS NOT REAL CONSENT!! Allowing someone to hurt you is not an adequate way to deal with your issues!!

- “As you wish, Pet.” - Sorry I twisted a line from a beloved romance story and made it fucked up. It will not happen again. (It might)

Fun tidbit for making it this far! Here are some TikToks that summarize Ash and Beej’s “friendship”! This, this, and this!

7 notes · View notes

theacedragon0w0 · 5 months

Text

I'm turning 22 on Monday (lol 22 on the 22nd) and I wanted to give love to the pookies that have made me excited about getting older

A bit of a rant but I seldom look forward to my birthday, take what you will on that notion but with me dealing with classes and how I struggle with my family life, it is usually placed on the backburner of things on my mind.

That being said, I can not put into words how awesome this fandom has been and welcoming to me and my blorbo Sage. Thank you guys again for letting me go off and you all deserve the best vibes and snacks!

Julie belongs to @bat-boness who's art is so beautiful and I want to eat it like a buffet

Eva Jayne belongs to @bigfatbimbo who is writing i can't get enough of

Sydney belongs to @tamberwoof who formed the server where the homies can share our hcs of our ocs

Iris belongs to @helluvadyke whose character is so much fun to write about! And her art is just as sweet!

Vlk belongs to @imapuppy5000 whose art motives me to work harder in learning digital art

Rosalina belongs to @mirconreadzztuff22 whose myths characters age so much fun to read and learn about

And Hazel belongs to @puffymucher who was the first person that I made fanart of and was such a welcoming person to this group of peeps

I'm also giving a shoutout to @wallowaffles and @crash-the-mode who are fr homies that are the coolest beans!

#hazbin hotel oc #oc x oc #hazbin hotel #my god #you guys fr make me go doki doki #happy birthday to me ig

16 notes · View notes

chelleztjs18 · 3 months

Text

The Monsters Within (N.R) Pt. 5

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!SerialKiller!Reader (Modern AU)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Summary: You like Natasha and you keep her to yourself.

Warning: This is a Dark Fic. 18+, a lot of swearing words. Graphic and gore descriptions, kidnapping, mind manipulating / brainwashing, blood, death, violence, bone crushing, Stockholm Syndrome and angst (Let me know if I miss anything)

A/N: Hello hello peeps. I'm back for a bit from my sad depressed isolations. I almost not to post this today because something happened and got me down again but I promised to post it today, so here you go! The last and final part of this dark mini series. There is a some angst if squint. Thank you to my Curious George anon for motivating me to write and helping me brainstorming and even writing some parts in it! Y'all can thank her for this chapter. hahaha. Also thank you @honey-sweet-hiraeth for the base of the idea in this chapter. Well, enjoy and happy reading!

It has been a few months since the night Natasha accepted her inner monster. Wanda is dead and she is just part of your memory in the back of your head. You are living your life now with your redhead girlfriend. Not just as happy lovebirds but as a couple who loves taking the lives of others.

After Natasha killed Wanda furiously, a thirst sprung and she slowly started getting into it. You never knew that you would find your perfect match ever. Natasha is a great girlfriend. Loving, gentle and sweet person to you but sinister and dark at the same time which makes you fall for her even more.

Her smile and laugh always look beautiful but my oh my, it even looks ethereal when she does it with some splashes of your victims’ blood and when she looks like she is having fun dismembering them limb by limb. It’s one of your favorite parts besides smelling her perfume that’s mixed with the iron scents of the blood puddle dancing around in the air with the acid smell on your hunting night. Well, that’s what Natasha wants to call it every time both of you go out for the night, killing.

Natasha can’t control her blood thirst and the more she feels the rush from killing the bigger the urge to do some more. You love it so much but sometimes you have to remind her that both of you need to slow down so you won’t grab more police’s attention even though they start to not be able to keep up due to no trace being left behind.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I love killing as much as you do but we have to be careful. I just want us to be more cautious” You explained patiently.

“I know, babe. Fuck, but it feels so good when I feel the knives taking their lives and cut them apart.” she expresses her thoughts in a sinister giggle as both of you put the last body parts into the bathtub.

“Oh yeah, I know what you meant dear. Don’t forget that cracking sound when the grinder grinds the bones and how it looks when the acid burns their flesh.” you added in agreement casually having the disturbing details like it’s a normal daily conversation while pouring all the acid onto the dismembered innocent.

“Oh don’t even start it, you are teasing me right now. You're just making me want to kill more, you know that right?” she complains in a playful nagging tone.

“Look at you, craving to kill some more. I turned you into a monster, didn’t I?” You smile, looking at her as your hand wipes a smudge of blood off her cheek.

“Well, someone said that everybody is a monster in their own way.” she replies in a teasing tone as she kisses your neck that has some splashes of blood on it, gets the taste of it off her lips then smirk at you.

“How about we meet in the middle as a solution?” She offers you a negotiation with her puppy dog eyes begging expression.

“How?” you ask curiously. You know you couldn’t resist her whenever she begs you with that look even though she is under your control. You’ll do anything for her. If Natasha wants the moon, she’ll watch you grab it for her. If she wants the head of the victim, you’ll watch her cut the head off their throat. That’s how much you love Natasha.

_____

Since then, you and Natasha agreed on something which you can’t lie that it was actually a good idea.

Being the sweetheart she is, Natasha proposes the idea to change your targets to kill criminals especially perverted men instead of helpless women. Every now and then you still kill women you find out there but Natasha always insists on doing the whole process by herself due to her jealousy issue. She hates it when she sees you touch other women even though they are all lifeless and that’s how much Natasha loves you.

A year later after the changes of your targets, it has been leading the police to different tracks and make them think that there is another serial killer who roams free in town. The people are now divided on two sides when it comes to the talk about this so-called controversy theory. Some people take sides to both of you and call you “The Punishers” and some of course still are against you no matter who the victims are even if they deserve it.

With all that, everything changes. Your life has been okay. Natasha gets more attached to you, like a lost clingy puppy. The hunting and killing night has become an easy routine for you and Natasha. Too easy.

_____

The night is getting quieter as the time gets later. The wind blows a soft whistling sound and you see some stars sparkle in the sky shortly before you and Natasha walk into your house after a quick hunting night.

The mess in your house now shocks you and Natasha. You instantly think that someone has broken into your house. You look around and find your glass coffee table is now shattered. Stuff is scattered around. Your tall bookshelf has fallen and your books are all over the floor.

You and Natasha look at each other, puzzled and wondering what had happened. Your hand gesture instructed her to stay quiet. Both of you look around and tip toe. Natasha taps your shoulder rapidly to drag your attention to now unconscious James on the kitchen floor, with his hands tied up behind his back and his ankles tied as well.

Both of you halt your steps as soon as you hear something in the kitchen then a figure of a woman gets into your sight. You don’t recognize her from her back but as soon as the woman turns around, you hear Natasha’s soft surprised gasp.

“Oh Hi!!” She greets both of you. You recognize her, so does Natasha of course.

“Ye-yelena! You are alive!” Natasha exclaims in excitement and gratefully. As soon as she is about to run to her blonde long missing sister, your protective instinct takes control and you grab Natasha’s hand to stop her and she obliges.

Deep down both of you are worried if Yelena found the basement and things under there. You remember that you still have one victim from last night that you haven’t taken care of. As luck would have it, you locked the other door. You clench your jaw as you watch every move Yelena makes so you can be prepared for the worst. As nervous as Natasha is of her sister finding who she is now, she misses her and beyond happy that Yelena is back.

“Yeah, of course I’m alive.” She paused a few seconds then looked at you before she continued. “You guys have a lot of freaky things in your basement.” Your stomach turns after you hear her statement.

“What’s behind the lock door? Dead body or something?” Your heart races especially after she looks at you followed by her sarcastic question. Natasha swallows hard. With a bowl of mac and cheese in her hand, Yelena casually walks to the dining chair next to the knocked out James to sit.

You are enraged seeing what she did to him. Yelena takes notice that you look at him. She puts one of her feet on James and nonchalantly says while chewing her mac and cheese “Relax, he is still alive but I don’t know what to do with him so I gotta tie him up before he wakes up.”

Seeing her boot steps on the side of James’ face really fumed you and your hand slowly grabbed the knife that’s tucked in the back of your belt. This time Natasha’s protective instincts of her sister stops your action. Her hand stops yours and she looks at you then firmly tells you “Don’t you dare.”

“Yes, yes, don’t you dare, Y/n” Yelena echoes Natasha’s words and takes another bite of her food. Your eyes are rounded in surprise when you hear her saying your name. Tension grows around the three of you, none of you saying anything for a good few seconds. Silence covers the room slowly.

“Oh sorry, where’s my manners? You guys want some? This big dude was a fighter, I got hungry after I fought him so I made some food. Do you have hot sauce?” Yelena’s thick accent wrapped voice breaks the silence as she offers both of you unconcernedly and fearlessly even though she noticed what you were about to do.

“Lena, where have you been? I have been looking for you.” Natasha’s eyes turn glossy.

“I have been here and there, trying to survive alone because I thought you were dead but I’m glad you are alive Nat.” She pauses her words, sadness and happiness shows in her eyes looking at Natasha but still tries to keep herself together.

“Soooo, is killing people your full time job? Or is it more of a hobby? If it isn’t your job yet, maybe it should.” Yelena expresses her sarcasm.

“What-what do you mean?” Natasha tries to cover the truth.

“No, thank you. I love my job so—” You sarcastically answer but she interrupts you.

“As a surgeon? And a serial killer at night?” Yelena smirks.

What she just said definitely puts you in high caution. You don’t want anybody to find out about you because you don’t want anything to happen to Natasha.

“How did you–” Natasha halfway asks her and Yelene finishes her question. “Find out?” Yelena puts her bowl down shortly before she continues as she stands up and pulls out a handgun.

“I thought you were dead, so I swore to myself that I would find and kill whoever killed you. Long story short, let’s just say that I did good research and found both of you even though it wasn’t easy. Well, I’m gladly telling you that your time has come." She points her gun at you at the last word she says and you quickly pull out your knife.

“Ah, a pair of killer sisters. I guess it runs in your blood, huh?” Your knife is on your tight grip and ready to take a life.

Natasha’s breath shook seeing what’s going on. “Y/n! Lena!” Of course both of you ignore her calls.

“You seriously gonna bring a knife to a gunfight?” Yelena chuckles and her grips tighten on the gun’s handle.

“Oh knife is more fun to use to torture my victim and guess what? You would be the next one.” Your intuition to survive brings your sinister self up to the surface. You move very slowly and Yelena’s aim follows you.

“Oh yeah? Try me.” The blonde challenges you.

“Y/n, what the hell? She’s my sister!” Natasha raises her voice. “Yelena, please don’t hurt Y/n!” her gaze jumps around between you and Yelena.

“I know, sweetheart but she is putting you in danger right now.” you answered.

“Said someone who kidnapped her and turned her into a killer?” Yelena puts up more guards on her stance.

“I helped her to find the monster in her. It was my act of love for her.” You explained in a disturbing proud tone and followed by a little chuckle.

“That’s bullshit! You sick bastard!” Yelena responded angrily at you then quickly looked at Natasha then back to you.

“Come home with me. Leave her, Nat!” she asked as she continuously watched every move of yours.

“Oh, she won’t. Your sister loves me as much as I love her.” You spoke for Natasha before even the redhead gets the chance to answer, mocking Yelena as you check how sharp your knife is.

“I love her, Lena. We love each other. I found my true self and she kept me grounded. Why don’t both of you put the weapon down and let’s talk. You are my sister and I don’t want to lose you again.” Natasha tries to stay neutral and cut down the tension. It’s hard for her to choose only one of you. She wouldn’t. She loves both of you.

“Look, Nat, she brainwashed you. This is not you. I don’t care how many you killed and I won’t tell anybody about what you did but I won’t let you be around this psycho.” Yelena is still trying her best to talk some sense to Natasha without letting go of her aim at you.

You walk back slowly, step by step with a plan in your head. Yelena notices. “What’s wrong? Are you scared? I would fight for my life if I were you.”

You let out an unamused chuckle the second you hear her mocking words. “You are one cocky little shit, aren’t you?”

“Blonde girls always fight back.” Yelena talks back your remarks and it hits something in Natasha’s memory. Her stomach turns. Before Nat questions Yelena about what she just said, you quickly hit the switch. The kitchen becomes dark. Only the moonlight that’s coming from the windows illuminates the room and you quickly sneak out of there.

With her quick reflex, Yelena instantly pulls the trigger, shooting in the dark a couple of times. To your surprise, she aims better than you thought. Two hot bullets made their way to you. One struck and got you on your waist and the other bullet grazed your thigh causing you to limp a little.

Yelena searches for you in such high caution yet Natasha looks for you worriedly.

“Get out of here, you coward!” Yelena demands, her breathing starts to get faster. She spins around to listen to any subtle hint of you; her gun is cocked and ready to shoot as soon as she sees you.

You walk around the room easily, familiar with how your surroundings are. You tipped toe to the other side and threw your knife at Yelena and it lodged right near her left shoulder blades causing her to yelp in shock. With great pain, Yelena turns around to find you again. As one of her hands tries to remove the knife and the other shoots one more time, thinking that you were still behind her. Shattered window’s sound followed after the loud sound from the shooting. Yelena realizes you are not there.

You snuck behind her then quickly grab her. One arm wrapping around her neck, making her gasp for air. Your left hand firmly holds the knife handle. You put more pressure on the knife, sinking it deeper, making her squirm. Then you twist the knife slowly, the agonizing sound coming from Yelena is music to your ears.

She lets go of her gun then tries to pull down your arm while air slowly empties her lungs. A satisfied sinister laugh flows out of you.

“What’s wrong? Are you fighting for your life right now? Hm?” you asked in a mocking tone. You loosen the grip of her neck for a few seconds then choke her again as if you are playing with her life like it’s nothing. Suddenly, Natasha hits the lights back on. She is torn and shocked from what she is witnessing in front of her.

“Y/n, let her go!” she says. Shaking as she aims her gun at you. She got your attention. “Oh hi, sweetheart.” You answer her nonchalantly.

Yelena gasps for air a bit by a bit. “Y/n, stop hurting her! I swear, I’m gonna shoot you if you don’t let her go!” You ignore her plea.

You laughed at Natasha’s threat. “You wouldn’t hurt me. Without me, you will be nothing. I made you. Without me, you are just a soulless monster.”

Yelena takes this as her chance to do something while you are not paying attention to her. She grabs her pocket knife discreetly then stabs your left thigh. You scream as soon as you can feel the knife against it. Yelena pulls the knife out to try and stab one more time but misses. Your hand is faster than hers. You were able to dodge it with your hand and grabbed the knife from her. You tossed the knife away from her reach.

“You little shit!” You yell at her. “Blonde girls always fight back. Just like last time.” Yelena says it one more time.

Natasha lets out a warning shot that was aimed close to you. “Y/n, you always say that about blondes. Why the hell did she say that??!” Natasha is still conflicted. Panic, confusion and curiosity are all mixed in her.

“Tell her y/n or..I..will.” Yelena tries to speak while struggling to get out of your strong grip as she slowly loses her energy.

“Y/n! I’m asking you one last time! Tell me why did she say that?!”

The silence from you was enough for her to finally connect the dots. “Did you try to kill her before?!” She asks in a shaky voice. Her grip on the gun gets stronger as she walks a step closer. Fury is written all over her face but there is a bit of her that wishes that her own conclusion is wrong. You try to ignore her question.

“DID YOU TRY TO KILL MY SISTER BEFORE?!” she demands an answer in a raised voice. Her pulse slammed in her neck.

“Alright, alright. Since the truth is out now. Yes, I did.” You finally let your arm’s grip off Yelena’s neck.

You yank Yelena’s hair back as you continue telling Natasha the truth. “I tried to kill her but her stupid blonde friend tried to help her and got in the way. Your sister was my first one that got away.” You pull the knife out of Yelena’s shoulder and let her go.

As soon as she falls weakly on her front, you step on her wound and give her a painful pressure. Yelena instantly screams loudly from the torment, leaving her with no strength.

“She..killed..Carol.” Her voice cracks as she tells Natasha between coughing and finally being able to gain more oxygen.

The cold gun barrel is still aimed at you and Natasha never lets her sight off you. Natasha’s skin crawled, sadness tore at her chest after hearing everything. Yelena’s scream, the truth and the view of you with no remorse whatsoever push her to the edge even more. Your confession felt like a knife to her heart. The memories of that night when you came home with a blonde victim and the next day you lied to her that you would never hurt Yelena came back in an instance.

Natasha’s gaze jumps from Yelena then back to you. “You tried to kill Yelena that night. It was Carol’s body that you brought. That was why you didn’t keep her body in the basement because you knew I would recognize her and find out what you did!!” Her body locked up with rage and her blood boiled. She sees your sinister smile, agreeing in everything she just said.

Natasha’s breathing gets faster. Tension grows in her. “Why, Y/n? Why did you try to kill her?”

“I thought she was in the way between us to have a new life together.”

Natasha tries not to let your words get in her head again. “That’s bullshit! You said you won’t kill her, you lied to me!”

“Oh yeah, I lied.” You casually play with your knife, toss it from your left hand to your right hand then back to your left.

“I thought you loved me!” She screams out her disappointment. Her forehead creased. You can see her hands shake a little, her face turns red from the overwhelming feelings.

“I thought so too.” Your answer shook her even more.She quivered with indignation. You punch Yelena and knock her out.

Suddenly, the loud explosive sound from her gun breaks the short silence. Natasha shot your right arm. This time your scream fills the room. “You bitch! You think you can kill me?!” You clench your jaw as you try to hold back the pain and you walk one step closer to her. The displeasure on your face intimidates Natasha a little.

As if your steps are connected to her gun’s trigger, Natasha shoots once more after you walk another step. Her love for you, anger and all of the conflicted feelings clouds her aim and the bullet went near your lower left ribs now. It stops you for a few seconds. Blood stains slowly appear on your clothes more.

“You can’t and you won’t. You are nothing! You should’ve aimed better, that's why you are not good enough!!” You yell louder at her and you quickened your limping steps.

Her heart drummed. Sweats trickled down her spine seeing the real you as she walked backward away from you.

“I’m not going to die. You can’t hurt me! I’ll make you watch me kill your sister!” You laugh in confidence.

The closer you get to her the more it provokes her to shoot you. This time two bullets flew to you as you were trying to charge towards her. Your body flinches each time. The hot deadly metals hit you on your stomach and grazed the curve of your neck. You are soaked with your own blood by now.

Fortunately, as soon as you get in front of her, your grip gets weakened and the knife falls off your hand. You are standing unbalanced. You look down to you all of your wounds then you look at her in the eye. Natasha gets just enough safe distance from you. She lets out a shaky gasp when she sees you fall on her knee weakly in front of her. Fear splintered her heart and her spirit fell seeing you wounded.

Her feelings for you start to get in her head, part of her still cares for you. Natasha can see that your face is losing its color yet you are still laughing at her.

Meanwhile, Yelena slowly gains her consciousness and crawls weakly towards Natasha.

You spit out blood shortly before you say “I never loved you.” as you look up to her.

The four words of the final truth she heard from you plunged her into despair. Pain gripped Natasha’s chest. She crumbled inside, waking up flames of anger. Shame washed over her. The truth hits her like a huge wrecking ball. All she has ever done for you, all the victim’s life she took with you. In the end, all of them don't matter to you. Natasha starts to scream her lungs out, emptying all of her emotions as her eyes are closed.

CLICK

Her gun makes repeated clicking sounds as her finger pulls the trigger rapidly multiple times. You laugh maniacally and it opens her eyes. Realizing that she is out of bullets, Natasha drops her gun.

Seeing her tears leaving wet traces on her cheeks keeps you wanting to tell her hurtful things “I never loved you because you are not Wanda. You are never gonna be her!”

Yelena finally gets back on her feet.

“Nat, kill her. She doesn’t deserve you, she doesn’t deserve to live.” Yelena suggests as she tries to hand her another gun.

Natasha doesn’t respond to her sister. Your mocking laugh fills her mind. Natasha doesn’t even know anymore how she feels about you. Questions running around in her head, vivid flash images of the dismembered innocences starting to fly around in front of her. All that is soon followed by tremendous guilt. Her world starts to spin fast, your voice and every word you are saying are muffled.

Then another loud sound brought her back at the same time as the explicit view of blood and particles of your scattered brain exploded in front of Natasha. The bullet went through your head after Yelena finally pulled the trigger to end all this.

“No. No.. Y/n!” Natasha falls onto her knees.

The fed up blonde tosses the gun away then quickly hugs her broken sister. Natasha starts to sob uncontrollably.

“It’s over, Natty. She’s out of your life now. You are free from her chokehold. Come home with me.” Yelena tries her best to comfort her while she is crying hysterically on her shoulders. Natasha nods without any words. Her mind and heart are having a battle. Feelings and common sense trying to make their point to her. A rough tug of war is happening in her. She feels lost. Without you, she doesn’t know what to do. You have always kept her monstrous killer side on ground yet keeps feeling the hungry need to kill.

Natasha’s happy she could be with her only sister again but it doesn’t change the fact that you are gone. She is now left behind with questions. Questions that she will never get the answers ever.

Anger, disappointment, despair, relief and guilt are melted all together in her. Despite all the anger, love and hate she has for you, she crawled to your lifeless body. Pulling you to her hug and rocking back and forth. Your pool of blood got on all over her. She wants to scream at you, asking you if what you said was true.

Yelena stands up with a painful grunt and lets her have her last moment with you while finishing everything up.

“I’ll be right back.” with that the blonde limps away.

Natasha keeps wondering when did you stop loving her. What did she do wrong? What she doesn’t have that Wanda has.

“I love you but I hate you now too. Why, y/n? I hate how much I love you.” She whispers in gritted teeth.

“What am I gonna do without you? What am I gonna do with these memories of all of our victims? I can’t fucking erase them in my head! You turned me into the monster you are! Fuck you! I should hate you for everything you did. I love you! Please come back!” Natasha keeps mumbling to herself.

She feels guilty. She hates herself for everything she did to those innocents and for still loving you but she can’t stop herself. Emotions after emotions, thoughts after thoughts slowly pushing her to the edge mentally.

Yelena stops for a few seconds pouring all the flammable chemicals around the house when she hears Natasha screams in her crying.

It hurts her seeing Natasha like that but she knew she had to kill you and it was for the best, to save her.

Pain claws deep in her heart. Natasha is furious with herself. She knew she can’t turn back the time to bring you nor the innocents’ lives back.

Her guilt is covering her like a huge dark cloud. Natasha cries and cries. She is lost in her own dark mind even deeper. Her mind and memories are out of touch but it wasn’t because she didn’t know enough. She knew too much. Natasha doesn’t know herself anymore. Invisible walls are closing in inside her, the devil’s knocking at her door.

Natasha had a somber look. Her eyes red from crying and her voice becoming hoarse from all the screams that she had let out.

She kept on until there were no tears left to shed, no more anger, no more hate. Just an empty hollow shell.

The strong smell of blood and gasoline didn’t have any effect on her senses. Her sanity starts to wander off.

“I just took care of James, Nat. I just need to make sure everything doesn't look suspicious and then we–” Yelena checks on her sister, but can only see how despondent she is. Her words stop abruptly as soon as she sees Natasha’s condition. Her eyes look empty and not responding to the surroundings even though they are wide open.

“Nat, are you okay?” Yelena asked.

Natasha doesn’t say a word. Her gaze is on one random spot while her arms are still hugging you. No emotions are written on her facial expression.

Yelena breaks Natasha’s hug around you then her hands hold both of Natasha’s cheeks, leading her eyes to look into hers. “Nat, look at me. Look at me. Everything’s gonna be okay. Okay? You are coming home and I’ll be with you always.” her whisper sounds shaky from sadness and worry. Yelena leans her forehead onto Natasha’s. She closes her eyes and her tears roll down. As soon as Yelena opens her eyes back again, Natasha’s expression is still flat even though her eyes turn glossy. No words come out of her lips as if her tongue refuse to work.

_____

Half a year has rolled away since everything that happened at your house, since you died.

“How’s your sister?” Detective Harkness asks Yelena.

“She’s still the same. She didn’t say any word or show any emotions since I found her that night on the road near that burning house.” Yelena responded with the lie she prepared.

“Ah okay. I talked to her doctor. He said that she still doesn’t make any progress and he doubts that she will. Even if she does, it would take a long time. He thinks that her mental health is not fit enough and she won’t be able to cooperate well as the key witness.” Agatha explains.

“Any update on my sister’s case?” Yelena shows her pretend curiosity.

“Yes, we know that the burning house belongs to Y/n Y/L/N. We found her and her butler, James Barne.There was also a bone grinder machine on the house basement and other equipment.The team found some bones that match some of the missing people we have. Everything leads to a conclusion that they might be the serial killers that have been on a killing spree in this town. They believe that the equipment was used by Y/L/N and Barnes to their victims.” Agatha shares some parts of the result of the investigations.

“So my sister has been kidnapped by them? They could’ve killed her! I can’t imagine what she has been through.” Yelena tries her best to play innocent.

“The autopsy showed some gunshot marks as well on her skull. There is a possibility that they both were fighting and trying to kill each other and your sister might use that chance to get out of there when the fire just started. How? I still don’t know. All i know, she got really lucky that she could come out there alive.”

“Yeah. I’m just glad that she is safe now even though she hasn’t been responsive at all.” Yelena can’t hold back her tears, her lips quivered.

Both Yelena and the taller woman look at Natasha through the glass window, watching her sitting still with empty thoughts and looks.

“Then what’s next?” Yelena breaks the silence and looks at the brown haired detective.

Agatha clears her throat and lets out a sigh. “That was the reason I wanted to meet you here. Your sister is such a sweet and amazing person. As much as I want the best for her case but due to her circumstances and with both Barnes and Y/L/N dead, we can’t proceed further investigation on this case.”

“What did you mean?” Yelena shows displeased, the complete opposite expression from how she really feels.

“It means the case is closed. Which is also good because now you can focus on Natasha’s mental health recovery. As a friend, I really hope that she gets better soon and has her normal life back. Please keep me updated about her and I wish you both good luck.” Agatha gives Yelena a comforting hug.

“Thank you. I will let you know. I really hope she gets better.” Yelena hugs her back shortly before Agatha bids her farewell.

After Agatha leaves, Yelena takes Natasha for daily afternoon strolls around the facility’s garden on her wheelchair.

Yelena crouches in front of Natasha. “Hi Nat. I have good news for you. Agatha told me your case is closed. Everything works as planned. Everything was blamed on Y/N and Barnes. They don’t suspect anything about you. Now, please Nat, I want you to get better. I need you, you are my sister and all I have.” Yelena kisses Natasha’s forehead then hugs her lovingly.

“I’m sorry I killed her. I had to. It was for the best, please come back and get better. I love you.” Yelena’s heart breaks from waiting for Natasha’s hug and words that only heaven knows when will it come.

The monster within her has muted Natasha’s own sanity.

A/n: Welp, that's all for today! Let me know what you think. As usual, reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated. I'll be back to my depressed isolation so see you in next maybe for some angst or another dark story. I dont know.

Cheerio!

Chellez TjS.

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @srtamercurio @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @savethefbees @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @imdoingsortagay @marvelwoman-sugarbaby @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rain @cristin-rjd

#themonsterswithin #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff dark #dark natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #dark natasha romanoff #dark natasha romanoff x reader #dark fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel modern au #chellez masterlist #black widow #yelena belova

98 notes · View notes