Part 3 - Tumblr Posts

Send Her My Love

part 2: Second Choice

inspired by journey’s send her my love

summary: several months later, a still hung-up steve hears that [Y/N] is back in hawkins from a semester at college and dustin has a trick or two up his sleeve

warnings: mentions of death/grief, (vague) spoilers for Stranger Things 2, angst,

a/n: part 3?

—

It's been so long

Since I've seen her face

Rain assaulted the sidewalks and scattered loose gravel across the asphalt of Hawkins. Few dared brave this weather in the setting sun and [Y/N] found herself standing alone on a darkened street as she stepped out of the taxi cab. The last of the autumn leaves fell silently to the ground, swept away with the wind and twirling under the angry raindrops’ direction.

This kind of quiet was hard to come by on a Saturday night in any town other than Hawkins, Indiana, as [Y/N] had learned in just one semester away from her hometown. As she pulled the last of her luggage up the steps to her front door, she swallowed back the urge to stand in the rain, just trying to recapture that raw Hawkins smell.

The house was uncomfortably quiet as [Y/N] stepped into the foyer and shut the door behind her. There were days when she might have expected to be tackled by a pair of giggling pigtails. Those days were long gone, now.

[Y/N] should have been angry. Her Father never showed at the bus station to drive her home, and she used the last of her cash to pay for a cab. No doubt he got caught up in something at work again, an occurrence that became daily two years ago. If she had one guess, her Mother had a wine glass between her lips and no clue what day it was, or when her daughter was due to come home. She knew she should be angry at her parents for just shutting down on her like that. But instead, she just felt numb.

Sighing, she made her way up the staircase to her old bedroom. The movement was automatic, and if she weren’t so drowsy, [Y/N] might have caught a glimpse of the ghostly bedroom beside hers and forgotten how to breathe. She collapsed on her twin bed and let out a heavy sigh. If she thought last Christmas had been hard, she was in for a world of hurt when this year finally came to a close.

Two blocks and one left turn away, Steve Harrington sat on his own bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling very sorry for himself. He twiddled his thumbs over his chest, trying to figure out how he’d ended up in this mess. A year ago, he might have blamed Nancy Wheeler and all her empty promises for holding him back; he knew better now, though.

Time worked in mysterious ways. Sixteen-year-old Steve had the whole world before him; ask anyone in town back then and they’d all tell you that the charming young man was destined for things much bigger than Hawkins. He could see that life laid out for him in his head, even now. Daydream-Steve left high school a local legend: star athlete, the town’s teen heartthrob, Prom King, committed to play basketball at a reputable college, the works. In this life, he might move to a big city for work, meet the love of his life, and settle down somewhere nice. But Steve’s plan didn’t include demogorgons, losing his girlfriend and his popular friends, or befriending thirteen-year-olds. Most of all, he never imagined that he might meet the love of his life right here in Hawkins, or that she would be the one who got out of this godforsaken town. But Steve supposed that was what he had coming to him for being such an arrogant prick.

Now 19 and finally growing up, Steve reckoned he might not like the person he would have become in that daydream of his. He might still be right where he was a year ago, but at least he could look himself in the eye whenever he passed by a mirror.

Growing tired of his pity party, Steve dragged himself up out of bed and fished his keys out of his jeans pocket.

You say she's doin' fine

I still recall

A sad cafe

Jittery and nursing his second cup of coffee for the evening, Steve danced around the elephant in the room. Dustin, who sat across from him, was glaring holes into his forehead. The kid had just dropped a bomb on Steve’s lap and now expected his friend to thank him.

“S-she’s back?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Jeez, Harrington, are you even listening?”

His quip fell onto deaf ears, however; Steve couldn’t focus on anything but the pounding in his chest. [Y/N] was back in Hawkins.

“Hey, Earth to Steve!”

“Yes, what? Chill!”“

“I said,” he scoffed. “She’s doing fine, Steve. Really, I haven’t seen her this happy since-“

Steve nodded slowly, digesting the information about as well as some bad seafood. This was exactly what he’d wanted to hear, so why did he feel so sick?

“You should talk to her.”

“What? Don’t be stupid, Dustin,” he paused. “She doesn’t want to see me, that was made pretty clear.”

“It’s been a long time, Steve. How can you be so sure?”

Tugging on his hair, Steve groaned. He’d never been good at dealing with his emotions. Pretending not to have any was just so easy that for a while he almost forgot they were there. Until [Y/N].

A thick silence fell over the two and Steve was about to suggest he drive Dustin home when he was interrupted. The younger of the two boys leaned forward on the table, smirking with the knowledge that he knew something Steve didn’t. Steve wagged a finger at him, preparing to tell him off.

But he didn’t get a single word in before the door chime sounded and he forgot how to speak. The cafe the two boys sat in was empty this time of night, save for them and a tired-looking waitress wiping the counters. But that stupid door chime rang and Steve caught one look at her. Shaking the rain from her coat and hair, [Y/N] stepped in and looked around for Dustin.

A harsh pink tint bit her nose from the cold and she looked tired, but [Y/N] still glowed with a youthful beauty that was rare in such a small town. She mustn’t have seen Steve until after she reached their booth. Her lips parted to greet the young teen but something stopped her. That something couldn’t seem to speak himself.

She saw him and the smile slipped from her lips just as quickly as Steve was slipping from his grip on reality.

@lunadial09 типерь можн????

The Final Moment of the Greatest Batman: Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill square off one last time... 🥺😭

"And if it has to end, at least I get to go out like this. Being Batman."

Part 1

Part 2

︻╦╤─ ҉ -¨ * ‧₊˚*♡ * *” ♡. ♡

It's been about..you don't know. You don't have a watch. But it's been so long. (Since last I've seen my son lost to this monster THE MAN BEHIND THE SLAUGHTER). It feels like months or years. You frown.

You both are bored, and you're pretty sure ghostie is asleep. You sigh and stare at the wall. You honestly haven't tried escaping or doing anything else. Do you want to escape? Yes, absolutely. Do you know how?...No. 

You think for a moment, finally you decide to untie the restraints around your wrists, or at least try to.

You fidget around with the rope, after a while, you finally succeed in untying something. You're surprised it even worked.

"Stop fidgeting around with my hands." Ghostface suddenly says, his voice is drowsy and deep. He clearly just woke up, or you clearly woke him up. You stop for a moment.

"You sound like you just woke up." You respond. He yawns and scoffs.

"You woke me up, I could've slept more" He rolls his eyes and you frown. 

"I think I untied your wrists. Check." You tell him, he hums and tugs on his wrists. 

"You didn't untie them, just loosened them up." He tells you, you nod and sigh. Maybe, if you untie him, he'll untie you, and then you both escape. You smirk and nod. You start fidgeting around with the rope again. He groans and rolls his eyes as he feels you fidget with his wrists.

You bite your lip as you work. Your wrists are definitely scratched from all the moving. After about fifteen minutes of scratching your wrists and breaking your nails, you finally succeed. You gasp. He slowly removes his hands from behind his back.

"You are a miracle worker." He mumbles as he stares at his wrists. You laugh softly. He gets up grabs his knife and mask, then walks to the basement door. You stare at him with a frown, isn't he going to help you?

"Aren't you going to help me?" You ask slowly, he puts his mask on and turns to face you. He chuckles.

"Nope. Sorry, sweet cheeks." He shrugs and laughs. He turns to the door and you stare at him, feeling betrayed. He slowly grabs the doorknob...but he doesn't turn the it.

"...aren't you going to beg me to stop..?" He asks quietly...you frown.

"If I did..you won't turn to help me.." you respond. He nods and sighs..he turns and walks towards you. You notice him unsheathe his knife, your eyes widen in fear. He's going to kill you..

He walks closer and cuts the restraints on your wrists. Oh. You remove your wrists from behind your back and stare at him.

"Thank you" you mumble. He sighs and nods. You get up, you both walk to the door.

Ass Wipe.?

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| part 4| Part 5

Boomer Lore 2/11 [part 3] (The next part will be the final I think)

- He and Sam talk about whether or not Boomer has anything yet and then invites him to read from a book Sam found

- Boomer: "Do you still do a lot of reading here?"

- Sam: "Oh I have"

(I guess this implies the room has been around for a while. I don't want Sam very often so maybe it showed up on stream once)

- Looking at the book we see it's the story Sam narrated before earlier in the stream. Sam asks Boomer to follow him and then offers him a job and Boomer accepts considering he's new and has nothing.

- Boomer is shocked about the 14 diamond blocks and 2 netherite ingots be Sam again says "I've been in this land for a long time now"

- Boomer asks about the job and Sam says 'in this place the people know him as a builder, a worker' and goes on to say he gets really busy so he needs someone to be in charge of part of his business and wants Boomer to be in charge of collection of resources and materials for Awsamdude construction.

- Boomer asks more and Sam says there any many things and currently he's working on a bank trying to bring the SMP into a new age as well as building an actual house. Boomer agrees and says they talked about but that the body from the other day wasn't really Sam. Sam says is that he usually doesn't go around as himself here (The SMP) and Boomers says he figured and that it's okay.

- Sam tells Boomer to head back to where they first met to talk about the job more and that he'll meet him there. Sam is gonna leave that body there and reiterates about keeping it a secret and Boomer agrees as long as Sam keeps his secret.

- Boomer leaves, Sam closes the entrance behind him, and comments saying "How many bodies does he still have?" Boomer is confused about why he had such a strong feeling all for just that interaction. He asks his hat but it doesn't know either.

- Boomer: "I could always tell that it wasn't his body. I mean, anyone with a brain can sense that there's no life force in it. You can sense that. I mean Hat you know! (...) ya exactly! I don't know how anyone else hasn't been able to tell. It's almost obvious"

- Boomer goes on to say he doesn't know what Sam has been doing but if he's talking about building a bunch of things he's willing to help.

- Sam was the first person Boomer met after waking up and not knowing where he was or who anyone was.

- Boomer adds that Sam didn't look like that and was using a different body which he doesn't know where it is and wants to ask Sam about it.

- Boomer goes on to talk to his hat about how he has a lot to learn about this new era he's in as well as the SMP and who's actually in charge

Part 1: Here

Part 2: Here

Part 3: You're here

Part 4: Here

Part 3 of the cosplay vlog is up! Hope you all enjoy. Shout outs to @mangosirene and @amazonmandy, I mention you both in this video!

Cruel Intentions (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, mafia!Jungkook

Warning: yandere themes, manipulation, oral sex (f receiving), wax play, fingering,

Word Count: 10, 793

Description: Jin receives news of your whereabouts.

"It's been months. Have you found anything of her?"

Jin was growing restless. Jungkook was working his nerves now. Izumi had gotten in contact with him, stating that the girls at the brothel could no longer serve Jungkook because of his behavior. He was far too rough with them, degrading and physically harming them, as well. To think Jungkook was banned - part owner of the same Brothel - was ridiculous. He hadn't seen Jungkook much since their last meeting - the man dodged them like the plague, but he couldn't blame him. He was hurting and missing his wife - lashing out, distracting himself with work and the abuse of the brothel workers was his evidence.

Akio releases a sigh. He leans back into his chair inside Jin's office. He had a break into the case that was Jeon Y/N. She wasn't an easy target to look for - she had no phone, no credit or debit cards to track. Her fingerprints haven't been identified anywhere and her social security hasn't been pinged. It was as though she disappeared from the face of the earth.

For months Akio scoured Korea for any and everything he could find. He was a renowned investigator getting paid billions of won to find a girl that didn't want to be found - it was clear as day. Yet, the money he was offered by Bangtan told him that this wasn't just any girl they were looking for - and that put his money on the line if he couldn't find her. He was far determined to find the missing woman. So he had, for months now.

The job wasn't easy and Akio lived off of cigarettes, coffee and red-bull. The last thing he'd expected was for him to find a lead into the investigation while he was out buying said cigarettes at a local convenience store. A young man appears, greeting the store owner. He looks around the shop at nothing at all, but Akio doesn't pay enough attention to the man. It wasn't until he heard the shop owner speak with him did his interest peak.

"How's your girl?" the shop owner asked, scanning out the snacks the man was buying.

"A-Ah, my girl. You mean Y/N?" the man laughs nervously, a blush staining his cheeks. "She's good. I'm getting these for her now." the boy lifts a few snacks in his hands.

The shop owner nods. "Got to keep them happy. Happy wife, happy life."

The man could do nothing but laugh.

Akio doesn't manage to buy the cigarettes. There was a break in his case and he was determined to find out who this Y/N person was - even if it wasn't you. He follows the boy close by, he walks on foot. He makes sure he's a few yards away from him to not draw attention. Around ten minutes of tailing the man, he arrives at a small home, the grass tall as if to hide from outsiders.

Akio's car windows were tinted and the road was quiet. He stood out in the small country-side town. He drives past just as the man enters his home, but he vows he would return.

Akio does return the following night, camera in his hands. He wears all black to not be caught in snooping. The windows were cracked and curtains drawn and he had a clear view inside the small home. There weren't many neighboring homes, so it was possibly normal for them to leave the curtains open.

Akio snaps as many pictures as he could from the shadows, zooming in on you and the familiar man from the convenience store. The two of you spoke freely, not far touchy feely as he thought you would be. Nonetheless, you were the woman he was searching for - the picture Jin has given him confirming your identity.

"She's a tough one to find. Found her off of pure luck." Akio admits. "If she would've changed her name, we'd never find her." He throws down the envelope onto the mans desks.

Jin doesn't waste any time in snatching the envelope and ripping it open. He scans the photographs, eyes wide and mouth gaping. It was you - smiling, a pure smile at the unfamiliar man. You appeared comfortable and content - Jungkook wouldn't like that.

"Where is she?" Jin stammers. He needed you back as soon as possible - Jungkook's sanity and the woman at the Brothel depended on it.

Akio hums. He crosses his arms. "That'll be extra."

Jin glares at the man. He slams the photos back down onto his desk. "What's your price?"

"100 million won." Akio shrugs.

"For an address?" Jin rolls his eyes. "I'll give you 50 million."

"Deal." Akio smirks. It was easier to start big and make your way down.

Jin's heart was fluttering. He managed to find you and soon, you'll be home. He won't know how Jungkook would react to this information, but his rampage would be done once he has you with him.

"What about the baby?" Jin ponders as Akio was half way out the door, address written down on a piece of paper on Jin's desk.

"There wasn't one." Akio shrugs."Didn't seem like there were any kids in the house at all. Far too quiet."

Jin frowns. He sees Akio out. He knew for a fact that you were pregnant upon leaving and now he ponders if you went through with the pregnancy or did you terminate it. Maybe you did go through with it, but decided it was best left in the care of others. jin's mind wanders to the worse, that maybe the baby didn't survive past the birthing process.

Jin wouldn't tell Jungkook of your pregnancy. It was a secret he was going to take to the grave with him - and could only hope Yoongi would, as well. If there was indeed no baby with you, then he could just show Jungkook the evidence of you being alive. He'd give his dongsaeng your whereabouts and soon his brother would be happy again.

You hold the strappy heels in your hands, the soles of your foot aching. You were unsure how long you were running until your mind told you that you were far from the restaurant. You took alley ways and back roads - probably not the safest option, however you'd rather not be caught by Jae-beom or any of Jungkook's men. You stepped upon the familiar steps of your sisters home. Your fist knocked along the wooden door, hearing footsteps from behind it. Ye-Rim peaks behind the door, and upon realizing it was you, she yanks it open. "Where the hell have you been?" she hisses. "I've been calling you for 2 weeks!"

You walk past her, dropping your heels by the entrance of the door. You let out a sigh or relief - you've made it.

"Where did you come from all dressed up?" Ye-Rim closes the door behind her, locking it before turning. "And sweaty."

"Can I talk about it later?" you huff. You wanted nothing more than to take a nap, exhaustion from running and the last week taking over you. "Where's Soo-ah?" you ask your sister, not seeing your niece anywhere. Usually by now she would've jumped onto you.

"At a friend's." your sister watches as you throw her a nod and walk down the hall to your nieces room. The familiar decked out room - even for a nine year old - was comforting. You don't waste time plopping down onto her bed, the stuffed animals and mountains of pillows hugging you. "You better wash her sheets when you're done!"

You do when you wake hours later. Soo-ah is jumping on you, startling you. She claims that she's happy to see you and you finally came to have the slumber party she has been waiting for. After you wash her sheets, Ye-Rim, Soo-ah and you gather around the dinner table. Soo-ah rambles on and on about nothing in particular. Her friends, whatever shows she enjoys, the music she listens to. It's refreshing to see and hear a child be happy with the life they live - you've been far too consumed in adulthood that you youself wished you were still a naive child.

Your sister doesn't question your stay with her - not even as a week passes. She enjoys your company. You wake up early to get breakfast done for her, yourself and Soo-ah. The girl doesn't have school due to break, so having someone to entertain her while Ye-Rim worked seemed like a win-win, after all since you were her aunt. By the time Ye-Rim was home, it was as if your energy never faded. You managed to keep up with Soo-ah and clean around the house - either by cooking or having food delivered to the home. You were just grateful to finally be away from Jungkook. 

You haven't been outside much. You knew at this point you don't have a job at the grocery store and being caught at your apartment was far too risky. You were unsure if Jungkook was back or not, but you knew for sure that he had men looking for you. You were thankful that he doesn't know your back story enough to find you at your sister's home. In due time, you believe he would give up and your life would go back to normal - you'd eventually find a job and save for another apartment and start a new life.

However, with your luck, nothing ever goes as planned. You were brushing your teeth when your niece came barging in - she never knew personal boundaries. You furrow a brow as she dances around you, a small smile on her lips. "I know something you don't." she sing-songs. 

You wash your mouth and release a snort. "What is that?" you entertain her. 

"You have a boyfriend!" she laughs and before you can question her further, she's already running down the hall. 

You follow behind her, heart pumping and eyes wide. You make it to the sitting room where you are sure your breathing stops. 

Ye-Rim is smiling wide at him - Jungkook. Her eyes is gleaming as if he is Prince Charming himself, enchanting her with whatever bullshit he has made her believe. 

Jungkook smiles at you, a familiar glint of mischeif in his eyes. He stands, you noticed the bouquet of roses in his hands. He's wearing casual clothing - a loose fitted grey sweat shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair was fluffy and wavy and if you would've met this Jungkook prior to the man in dark suits, you'd think he came straight from a college dorm. His casual appearance makes him appear younger and more innocent. 

"Baby." Jungkook's deep voice reaches your ears and all you can do is release a shaky sigh. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. You can come home whenever you like."

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?!" Ye-Rim scolds, her eyes glaring at you. "He came here frantically looking for you!"

You don't respond, unable to. Jungkook was the last person you'd expect to see. How he managed to find you was beyond yourself right now, and all you did know was that whatever he told your sister wasn't the truth. 

"You left your phone at home and when you didn't come home for a few days I thought you..." Jungkook lowers his eyes to the ground. "...called off the engagement."

"Engagement?" Ye-Rim squeals, so does Soo-ah, the young girl far too engrossed in the conversation than she should be. "Y/L Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you are engaged?!"

Jungkook places the bouquet of flowers onto the coffee table. He rummages through his pockets and takes out a small, rectangular shaped box. Your stomach feels queasy as he opens it, the diamonds shining almost blindly when he holds it out for you. "I changed the ring to something better just for you, baby." he smiles, the smiling mocking you as he steps forward. "I want only the best for you as my fiance."

Soo-ah gasps, she's never seen so many diamonds before in her 9 years of living. Ye-Rim's never had either, and she was nearing her 30's. 

You were ready to faint - your head was spinning and your stomach felt queasy. Your sister knew nothing of your relationship with Jungkook and you wished it remained that way. You didn't want to fight him in front of her or Soo-ah; Jungkook was unpredictable and the last thing you needed was for him to threaten or hurt them in any way. The fact that he has made himself known and got your sister to like him was a form of manipulation - it had to be!

Jungkook's in front of you now. His dark eyes scan your expression. He shows you the ring, his eyes flicking to it to you. "Put it on." he murmurs to you, inaudible to the watching eyes of your sister and niece. "I'll deal with your punishment later, baby. We can't have my sister-in-law and niece thinking anything is wrong."

You wished you'd ran farther away - somewhere he'd never find you. Now that he knew where your sister resided, the constant fear of him hurting her or Soo-ah remained in your mind. He had you where he wanted you - frightened to ever leave him again.

You allow Jungkook to slide the ring upon your finger. The size was a perfect fit and you could do nothing but allow his arms to wrap around you. He was excited to have you back with him, even if you were sure he'd give you hell later on. 

"I apologise," Jungkook releases from his hug and pulls you closer, arms around your waist. He turns towards your sister. "for coming unannounced. I went to see Se-hun-hyung and he suggested she'd be here."

Your throat runs dry. He's seen Se-hun...your brother. That means he knows much more than he led on. He speaks of Se-hun as if he was well acquainted with him. You knew for a fact that Se-hun never met Jungkook prior to now and the fact that this man had enough power to find you with little resources tells you that escaping him would never be easy - not wen he was determined to keep you so close. 

"It's no problem." Ye-Rim smiles at him. Her eyes glance towards you. "Are you alright, Y/N?"

You feel Jungkook's hand squeeze your waist. His lips kiss your temple and all you could do is nod and offer a fake smile. "Just...overwhelmed." you say lowly.  Of course, it had nothing to do with being a fiance like your sister assumed, but had everything to do with you being stuck with Jungkook for who knows however long. 

"I would love to have you for dinner tonight." Jungkook says, a smile on his lips. "I've already invited your other siblings to our engagement dinner." Jungkook glances down at you and tilts his head. "If you'd like...we can let the kids play in the pool for a bit while the adults speak."

"You have a pool?!" Soo-ah gasps. She was sold already - and all it took was a pool and a diamond ring.

Jungkook nods, his smile widening. "Big enough for all of you to enjoy."

"Really?" Soo-ah's eyes widened. "There's 9 of us!"

You drown out the conversation. There was nothing you could do now but leave with Jungkook after he gives Ye-Rim the address and what time to be there. He grabs the bouquet of flowers and soon you both are out the door, his waving goodbye to your sister who waves back just as excitedly. As you enter the car, your head is low. He isn't driving this time. You are unsure who it is by the tinted privacy window blocking from witnessing the driver.

Jungkook sits next to you. His demeanor changes as the driver pulls away from your sister's house. He releases a few deep chuckles. "You just keep trying your luck." he murmurs.

You don't say anything and watch the scenery pass by. You're upset with yourself for not fighting back - but there was only so much you're willing to do in front of your family. You knew how unpredictable Jungkook was and you didn't know how he'd ruin their lives if you refused him.

"Are you going to lock me away for a week, again?" you murmur dryly.

"I could." Jungkook retorts. "Not show you any sunlight until our marriage. But what man would I be doing?"

You snort.

"How about I make you a deal." Jungkook says. His hand touches your thigh and rubs gently.

"The last time I made a deal with you, I ended up being forced to marry you." you slap his hand, but he doesn't move it.

"You should be lucky to marry a wealthy man, baby. You spent millions of won on my credit card out of spite - I'm no fool." you hear him say. Your head turns to see his reaction, but you don't get the one you're expecting. "I'm not upset with you, baby. You can spend all of my money."

You frown and roll your eyes back.

"But, what I'm not going to tolerate is you escaping left and right and embarrassing me further. I had to fly home from Japan because Jae-Beom called me frantically." Jungkook squeezes your thigh. "He's on leave, as of right now. He had the simple task of watching you and couldn't even do that."

You glance his way. "What do you mean leave?" you ask lowly. You enjoyed Jae-beom's presence, he was a nice and sweet boy. He made you comfortable in an uncomfortable situation. It wasn't his fault you valued your freedom far too much.

"Jae-beom is loyal. He's not fired, just sent away on an assignment outside of Seoul. I'll have to give you a better caretaker - someone who isn't easy to step on." Jungkook smirks at your attempt to glare at him. "Or I can take you with me next time on business. When we're married, you'll have input on decisions I make."

"I have no interest in making any decisions in your...business." you retort.

"Ah, but you've yet to hear what my new deal is." Jungkook wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you closer. Your head is in his chest and his hands laid upon your arm. You try to fight, but you aren't a match for him. "It involves your family after all."

Your breathing hitches at the mention of your family. You remain still - Jungkook's fingers rub gently against your arm.

"I bet you didn't think I would find you, baby." Jungkook snickers. "I knew about your family since the day I met you. I do my research. I'm no rookie in this game, Y/N." You feel as though your life was ending. Each revelation Jungkook shows you about himself lets you understand that when he wanted something, nothing was going to halt him from attaining it.

"What do you want?" you sigh out. You were tired of fighting against him. No matter where you ran off to, he was there in a matter of seconds. He found you effortlessly and made an impression on your sister and niece that it was evident they loved him already.

"You, of course. Your love and devotion. I know it won't happen overnight, baby. But you have to stop fighting with me." Jungkook kisses your head. "You have a total of 6 nephews and 3 nieces." Jungkook says. He's done his research. "Ye-Rim has Soo-Ah, who loves to dance but can't seem to afford lessons on her moms salary."

You gulp. Your hand grasps his shirt - you knew where he was going with this.

"Ye-Rim has a hard time keeping a job when she has Soo-ah. I know she's an amazing cook and has dreams of owning her own restaurant." Jungkook's chin lays itself on your head as he speaks. "Se-hun has 4 children who all need to make it to college one day. I know he's created his own manhwa and wishes for it to be published. Even Ye-chan could use some help with her own 4 children. Your family would never see struggle as long as you remain by my side."

You're crying now, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. You felt trapped with no way out. Jungkook was willing to fund your sibling's lifestyle to make their own dreams come true just for your hand in marriage - and an eventual child. It would be selfish to say no to that, wouldn't it? Se-hun works doubles while his wife works part-time whenever she can. They lived in a small 2 bedroom juggling 4 kids. Ye-chan hasn't worked in years with her own 4 kids running around and though Ye-Rim only had 1, it was hard juggling a job while Soo-ah grew older and her needs increased.

"But of course, I don't fully trust you yet." Jungkook murmurs. "I would hate to do this to you, but you proved to me that you cannot fully be trusted."

You remain silent, your ears waiting for him to continue.

"I'm going to have to chip you." Jungkook holds you tighter when you try to push yourself away from him. "Don't be upset. It is a part of the deal, after all. I will need to know where you are at all times in order for me to care for you and your family. If not..." Jungkook shrugs.

"I'm not a dog." you hiss, feeling your anger boiling. The disrespect was growing unbelievable. You were already forced to be married to this man and have a child with him - all because he chose you instead of another woman.

Jungkook strokes your head. "You aren't. But you're not trustworthy. That's the deal, Y/N. Oh, by the way, Hyun-woo is being released from prison." Jungkook says, his chin lifting from your head.

His statement makes your head snap up at him. You scan his eyes with yours for any hint of deceit. "He got over 5 years." you mumble.

"Anyone can be set free for the right price." Jungkook shrugs.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I don't believe you." It wasn't unbelievable - Jungkook was a man of many wonders. But you didn't want to see him as your sister did - as some sort of Prince Charming coming into your life to sweep you off your feet.

"And that's okay. Someone has to pay for his rehab." Jungkook eyes watch your reaction. You try to hide the surprise, but he catches it. "I'll pay for it all as long as you're by my side. Run again, I'll just find you. But your siblings lives would be the effect of doing so."

"I wonder when Eomma's coming back." Soobin murmurs to himself, his eyes scanning outside the window. She had insisted she was going for a short walk and didn't need him pestering her into going. The walks she went on could last for up to an hour, and with the sun setting he wasn't prepared to not worry for her. It was in his nature.

Soobin strolls through the laundry room where you stand, eyes wide and mouth agape. He furrows a brow at you, freezing into his spot. "Y/N? Are you okay?" he asks. You didn't drop anything by your feet and by the looks of it, you were getting laundry started.

"I...yeah." you softly release a giggle. "Um, I think my water broke." was the response that almost made Soobin faint.

Soobin widen his eyes - so wide that you were sure they would pop out the socket. He starts fumbling with his words, unsure of what he was supposed to do at this moment. His mother wasn't here and he wasn't fit to deliver a child. He glances down by your feet and see's the small puddle - not what he's expected, yet again all the information he ever got from pregnancy was from a movie.

"I think I need to shower." you sigh, shaking your head. Before you do, you start the washer and make your way out of the laundry room, a stunned Soobin behind you.

"You're about to give birth to Jin-Seon!" Soobin gasps. He was more frightened than you were. "What if he pops out of you in the shower and drowns?"

You turn to Soobin to roll your eyes. "Labor can take hours, Soobin." you assure. "Besides, I feel fine now."

Soobin follows behind you in protest. Why in the world did you care about showering at a time like this?

"What if you fall and hurt yourself?" Soobin shakes his head. "This is a bad idea. I'm going to go out and fine Eomma-"

"Soobin." you sigh, raising your hands up at him. "I'll be fine. I promise."

Soobin nods. He was sweating now.

"How about you make us some tea? You look like you need it more than me. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Soobin does as he is told. He's shaking as he makes the tea, his mind screaming that you should be in bed and not showering as if it's a regular day. But, you were stubborn much like his mother. So as he prepares the tea, still shaking with nerves, he places them upon the tray and is about to go towards the guest room when the door opens.

"Eomma!" Soobin sighs in relief, dropping the tray of tea without thinking. It smashed against the floor and all Byeol can do is shake her head. "Damn it," Soobin murmurs between his teeth. "I'll clean this up. Y/N is in labor!"

Byeol can only shake her head. She makes her way towards the laundry room as soon as she hears the dryer go off. Soobin is following behind her in disbelief. "Did you hear me, Eomma? Y/N-"

"Yes." Byeol nods, taking the laundry from the dryer. "Is she in the guest room?"

"She's showering." Soobin throws his arms around in disbelief. "ow could she be showering at a time like this?"

"I was washing dishes when I went into labor with you." Byeol shrugs. "That didn't stop me from washing dishes, either. She'll be okay for now, Soobin."

You're silent the remainder of the ride back to Jungkook's estate. His words are replaying in your mind - your brother being released from prison and sent to rehad. His willing to pay for your siblings dream jobs and your nieces schooling. It was a ploy in your mind, of course. You didn't doubt that he wouldn't pay it, but that meant you would have to be his and go along with the marriage and - unfortunately - give him a child.

The car stops in front of the estate and you release a sigh of defeat. Your escape attempt was once again foiled by Jungkook - this time you had no idea how he knew so much of your siblings. You don't question him, however, not yet. You allow him to hold your hand as he brings you inside the estate. As he opens the door to the estate and walks you inside, your eyes trail along the walls. All familiar pictures - too familiar. As you stroll deeper inside and come to the sitting room, your heart is pounding and your hand unknowingly squeezes Jungkook's.

Jungkook squeezes your hands in return before releasing them. He hugs you from behind, a soft smile on his lips. "I thought you needed something to make you feel more at home." he murmurs in your ear.

Your eyes scan the familiar pictures of you and your family on the walls - some mixed with his own family members, including Jimin and the other men you have yet to officially meet. Your apartment must be no longer yours - the display of pictures and personal belongings told you such. You can even see your diploma from High School hanging next to his own. You hum.

Your eyes catch onto another picture. You tilt your head to get a full look of it. Your breathing slows when you realize it's a picture of you holding Eun-Ji in your arms at lunch, Jungkook seated next to you with a smile. You aren't smiling, but instead looking down at the baby in your arms.

Jungkook catches your vision and smiles. He hugs you closer to his body. "Hyung gave me that picture. Isn't it cute?"

You swallow. You don't recall any of them taking pictures of you at lunch. Your conclusion is that Jung-hyun had cameras in his home - and if that's true, that means he knows of Eun-Young helping you escape. For her sake, you hope the cameras do not extend to Eun-Ji's room. There was something wrong with both of them, something sinister that you're saddened that the two of you got caught into.

"It is cute." you agree. It was better to agree than fight against him. You feel Jungkook hug you tighter, his lips kissing your neck. You're stiff as he does this. You know fighting him would do nothing but make him retaliate. Now that you know that your family's lives are at stake here, you have to think wisely.

"I got you a gift." Jungkook turns you around to go through his pockets. He takes out a phone - not yours, but a brand new one. "I'll be good to you if you're good to me, okay?" Jungkook murmurs, placing the phone into your hands. "Of course there's rules you'll need to follow. No attempting to contact anyone and spreading lies."

You snicker and roll your eyes.

"I've already put your old sim card inside." Jungkook explains. "All of my cards are added on there in case you need something. You have no limit, of course. You know that."

Jungkook was attempting to gain your love and loyalty - it was clear now. The pictures on the walls, the phone, him offering to fund your siblings lifestyle. It was all coming together as one, but it had a price. You being chipped as if you were a pet of his. You weren't fond of the idea - that meant that you'd truly never be able to escape him.

"If you're here to tell me I'm banned from the Brothel, Hyung, then save it." Jungkook huffs out, taking a shot. "I've already been told."

Jungkook himself thought it was ludacris to be banned from an establishment that he had a hand in creating - but he didn't dwell on the fact. He didn't like any of the women there and only went to get the release he needed. It wasn't a secret that he could be a little too rough and degrading to them - but that's what they were paid for. He wasn't there to satisfy them.

Jungkook now sat crossed legged in his sitting room, a bottle of unknown liquor for himself. A few buttons of his shirt were undone and he was ready to drink himself to sleep.

Jin snarls as he looks at Jungkook. He slams the envelope down by his feet on the coffee table. He nods at him, motioning him to open them. Jungkook furrows a brow, but does regardless. He takes the bottle and places it on the ground before grabbing the envelope. "Does this have anything to do with the new port?"

Jin shakes his head. He examines Jungkook's face when he opens the envelope and takes out the pictures of you and the mysterious man. He notices the way his fingers clench onto the pictures of you and the mysterious man, both smiling at one another. His breathing is surprisingly calm, but the way his eyes narrow and his jaw clenches, Jin knows he is anything but.

Jungkook's hands are clenching to the point that he is crumbling the pictures slowly. His vision is getting hazy and all he knows is that he has a desire to put a bullet hole through the man in the picture.

"We found her." Jin's voice catches Jungkook off guard. He forgot the older man was still there - his anger getting the best of him.

Jungkook swallows. He throws the pictures down onto the coffee table, a snarl on his lips. He stands. "Where is she?" he snaps, eyes wide with anger.

"Calm down." Jin demands, raising his hands. "You aren't going to her like this."

Jungkook snaps his head to Jin, a ferocious look in his eyes. "Like hell I'm not!" he hisses. His fists are clenched. In each picture he witnessed, the smile you wore on your lips was genuine to another man. He returned the smile, his eyes seemingly beaming in the pictures as he looked at you.

"You're angry." Jin retorts. "You aren't yourself when you're angry. How about this..." Jin steps towards Jungkook. He knew the pictures would set him off - which is why he waited a week for it to be showed to him. He didn't need Jungkook to act out of impulse and kill everyone in sight because of this. "I'll allow you to go tomorrow when you're calm and sober."

"I'm not drunk." Jungkook deadpans. "What if she isn't there tomorrow?" Jungkook couldn't stand the thought of losing you twice.

"She will be. I promise." Jin assures. By the looks of it, you made yourself comfortable with the unknown man, the smile on your lips is a geniune smile he hasn't seen you wear while with Jungkook. Jin stands straighter, his eyes narrowing at Jungkook. "I'll give you the location tomorrow. Now, clean up around here and yourself for her arrival."

Jungkook nods slowly. Jin's eyes trail along with Jungkook as he takes a hold of the few liquor bottles and the line of shot glasses. He doesn't bother doing anything with them but throwing it away. His mind couldn't stay on one topic. You were alive - and he was grateful. You appeared healthy enough, yes. Face fuller, smile wide and eyes shining. What he didn't expect was the other man in the pictures. His mind was telling him to put a hole - or several - into his body for even daring to look at you that way. But he had to be calm. You were alive and seemingly well. You didn't appear hurt or trapped - and he will tell himself that you were on a vacation of the sorts. Now, it was time for you to come home. 

"Why do you think she left, hyung?" Jin hears Jungkook ask him after a moment. He's still, not looking at him. 

Jin swallows. He can't bring it to tell Jungkook the truth of your pregnancy. The truth was - he himself was unsure why you left. He would assume it had to do with the past and the sudden pregnancy, yet he wasn't certain. Telling Jungkook what he did know would for sure send him to a spiral that he wouldn't be able to control without his brothers. It would be a secret he kept to himself and take to his grave - hopefully Yoongi would, as well. 

"I'm not sure." Jin responds. "What matters now is she's coming home. You and her would be able to reunite." Jin sighs. "You'll have to treat her right, Kookie."

Jungkook looks at Jin. 

"I'm not saying you haven't. But she isn't like anyone else. She was never dependent on anyone but herself. It would take a while for her to become dependent on you." Jin turns, ready to leave. "Be the man to her you wish your father was. She will come around, I promise."

Jungkook's estate was a wonderland to your nieces and nephews. Like promised, they all swam - except your youngest nephew, he was just a baby. He sat with your sister, Yechan, and Eun-Young, who sat with a sleeping Eun-Ji. Upon their arrival, you got a quick hug from your nieces and nephews before they were outside playing in the pool - being escorted by one of Jungkook's men. You watched from afar. Your siblings children were pure menaces to society, and all of the in one place would sure be hell for whoever was watching them. Soo-ah had her small fist wrapped around one of Jungkook's men's hair, demanding he throw her onto the pool. He does so, making sure she doesn't drown - he'll just have to deal with Jungkook if anything happened to the hellions.

Jungkook and you had dressed for dinner, making sure you two appeared like a lovely couple. You come to realize that Jungkook planned far ahead. Your siblings marveled at the large estate and enjoyed seeing the many pictures hung up - that told you his plan was to make them feel at home and welcomed, even if you didn't. Jungkook and Sehun talked about different animes and manhwa, which surprised you because you never knew Jungkook was a man of such - or was this a facade? He wine-tastes with Ye-Rim and shows Ye-chan the expensive decorative china cabinet he had on display.

You hum, a frown on your lips. Jungkook knew far too much of your siblings, down to what they enjoyed in their free time. You didn't want them to like Jungkook - and you knew they wouldn't if you just told them the truth. But, involving them in this would do more harm than good. So, you respected Jungkook's wishes. You allowed him to wrap his arms around you and give you little kisses here and there - much to your dismay. You gave him tight-knit smiles when you noticed him looking your way and even laughed at jokes your ears never even bother to hear.

All because you knew in the end, your family would be taken care of.

When dinner comes around, the children don't attend - much to the man, whose name is Kai, dismay. There were 8 kids against him, and they were winning. Your siblings, along with Junghyun and Eun-Young, are all sitting around eating the food prepared by the chef. It was flassy and exquisite - a way for Jungkook to show off his wealth. Your ears barely hear what they were speaking of, but knew by the sparkling eyes and smiles that your siblings were enchanted by Jungkook. And once upon a time, you were, as well.

"We have an extra building downtown that could be used as a store." Junghyun nods to Ye-Rim. "We don't use it, right, Kookie?"

Jungkook nods. He takes a sip of his wine, his right hand on your thigh. "I was thinking of selling it." he says. But his eyes catch yours and he smiles. "But Y/N and I thought it could be opened into a resturant for you."

Ye-Rim's eyes widens as she looks between you and Jungkook.

Se-hun gasps, as does Ye-chan.

You avert your eyes, feeling Jungkook's hands squeeze your thighs. "That's true." you nod in agreement.

"We wanted to give back to you all." Jungkook smiles. "And invest in your dreams. And our nieces and nephews. I envy such a big family Y/N has."

You sigh inaudibly, but allow your lips to form a smile to your speechless siblings. Soon, Jungkook is making meeting arrangements with Se-hun and Ye-Rim to open their businesses. No matter how many times Ye-chan politely declines, she eventually gives into the funds Jungkook wants to arrange for her and her children. Your siblings were sold, and soon you'll be, too.

Towards the end of the night when the children were far too tired to keep harassing poor Kai and dinner was done, the house was quiet again. You climbed the stairs to the bedroom to get changed. Your siblings had hugged you tightly, exclaiming that you found the perfect fiance - if they only knew.

"Eun-Young." you bowed as you witness her passing you, a sleeping Eun-Ji in her arms.

"Y/N." she smiles, her voice low and soft. Jungkook and Jung-hyun were speaking elsewhere, possibly of illegal arrangements. "I hope you're alright."

You nod. She was the sole person who could relate to your situation. You wish you could see her more often.

"I hope you don't mind...I left something in your room." she murmurs, her eyes telling you something deeper without saying a word. "Please get it before he does."

You watch her walk past you and down the same stairs you came up from. You make your way to the bedroom, seeing the small rectangular box laid on top of the made bed. You lift it up and scan it - nothing out of the ordinary. You open the box, examining the small, circular pills. Your heart skips a beat. A small paper laid inside of it.

'Please hide these somewhere safe. I'd hate to see you go through the same I have.'

You're mentally thanking Eun-Young. You are unsure how she managed to get her hands on birth control, but you're thankful. You counted at least a year's supply of it. You take the box and make your way to the closet, finding the best spot would be deep inside one of the many designer purses Jungkook got you. You take one before you do - it was a matter of time before Jungkook would want to be intimate with you.

"Baby?" Jungkook's voice calls. You scurry to make your way to the opened closet door before he comes. "There you are." he coos, smiling fondly at you.

You nod your head at him. He comes closer to you, wrapping you in a hug. You allow him, your cheek against his chest.

"I'm proud you didn't embarrass us today." Jungkook says, chin on your head. You bite back a remark. "It's easier that way, Y/N. You'll have everything you want in the long run."

"And what if what I want you refuse to give me?" you ponder aloud.

"Then you'll have to think of something you know I would give you, silly." Jungkook releases you, his hands holding yours. His eyes flicker to your face. "Have you thought about what we discussed?"

"With you chipping me as if I'm not a human being?" you retort, snatching your hands away from him. You turn away from him.

"I wouldn't have to if I could trust you, baby." Jungkook sighs. "You ran from me twice already. I can't have you attempting it again."

Your mind races. You thought about the previous conversation, how he would give you whatever you desired. You'd have to make a horrible situation into a less ideal one. Your turn back to him, his eyes watch you curiously. You were going to have to fake it until you had his trust - then you'd be freed.

You wrap Jungkook into a hug, head in his chest. He was taken aback, but he hugs you nonetheless.

"How would you be able to find me if I'm chipped?" you question.

"Through my phone." Jungkook responds. "It'll allow me to see where you're at. At all times."

You nod your head. It was unsettling, but if he was going to hold your family against you, then you'd have to give it your all. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Jungkook responds.

"I want to know where you're at when we're not together." you lift your head from his chest and look into his eyes. They were wide with bewilderment. "Your job isn't...exactly safe. It'll give me peace of mind knowing where you're at. And you can do the same for me."

If you were going to be chipped like a dog - then he would have to be, as well.

Before he could respond, you place your lips on his. Jungkook shudders, her grip on you tightening.

"Okay." Jungkook agrees when you push away.

You smile at him. Slowly, you'll gain his trust. Then, you'll plan your freedom.

Soobin sighs in relief when he hears the faint cries of a baby. It had been hours upon hours of the labor. His mind thought the baby would come within the next 45 minutes, not the next 12 hours. He couldn't stay past 5 minutes in the same room as you. You were sweating and crying when he did and that nearly made him cry. Instead he remained outside the room, assisting whatever way he could. He had to remember to thank his own mother for going through with what he had to hear you go through.

Within the next hour he finally makes his appearance in the guest room, only poking his head in. He doesn't enter, still frightened, but he does see the small mop of dark hair that you're cradling in your arms. Your eyes are on him - Jin-Seon - a warm curve to your lips. It was a beautiful sight to see, after all. A mother's love was strong.

Byeol had bathed the baby before she had given him to you and left the room to give the two of you privacy.  You were exhausted. Your eyes were droopy and your head was hurting, but the small noises Jin-Seon made was worth the hours of pain you endured. 

The next day, Soobin's friend had returned to check on you and the baby. She assured you and Byeol everything was alright and healthy. She stitches the tears before leaving, stating she could return a week from then. 

"You don't want to hold him?" you ask Soobin after a week, whose head dart up at your question. 

"I-I don't want to drop him!" Soobin shakes his head. "Or squeeze him. What if he doesn't like me? Or  make him cry?"

You laugh at the many scenarios Soobin goes through. "He's only a week old." you retort. "He's not going to mind you holding him. Here."

Soobin is terrified. It was as though Jin-Seon wasn't a newborn baby and instead a grown man threatening his life. He sits next to you, gulping. Gently, you place Jin-Seon in his arms. The baby blinks his eyes a few times at Soobin - who is so scared, yet flattered at the acknowledgment. Soobin's stiff, afraid that if he moves Jin-Seon would be uncomfortable and never allow him to be held again.

Jin-Seon stretches in Soobin's arms. He opens his small lips wide and turns his head to Soobin's chest. 

"Ah, he's hungry." you giggle at the sight of your son. You take him back, preparing to feed him. 

Soobin lightly chuckles. He stands. "Thank you." he nods. 

You furrow a brow at him. "For what?"

"For everything." Soobin murmurs. "For giving birth to Jin-Seon. For trusting me to hold him."

You release a laugh, but your smile is bright. Soobin was a breath of fresh air. Byeol raised him to be one of a kind - and you're grateful that fate has brought you to him and Byeol. "You don't need to thank me, Soobin. I should be thanking you for being an amazing friend to me." you admit. "I'm not sure where Jin-Seon and I would be if it wasn't for the two of you."

The room would have been dark if it wasn't for the flickering candle on the nightstand close to Jungkook and the moon shining peaking through the curtains. Jungkook had suggested it would calm any nerves - it was eucalyptus and mint. It was calming, you'd give him that, however you refused to sleep. Jungkook's arms wrapped around you tightly, his lips buried in your neck. You could hear his breathing and feel his warm breath against you.

You remove yourself from him, your back leaning against the headboard. Jungkook doesn't wake and instead goes onto his back and continues his slumber. Your eyes watch his body through the dim flickering lights, his chest contracting and releasing with each breath he takes. You've never seen Jungkook sleep officially. The first night you slept besides him you were so exhausted that you slept all the way through. It's been weeks since you've shared a bed with him. 

Your eyes are narrow. He was sleeping peacefully, almost like a baby. His lips were spread just as his limbs were. He was in an utterly peaceful deep sleep. That irrated you. 

You pondered if you hated Jeon Jungkook. The answer should be easy. He forced you into an engagement and refused to let you go. However, he did get your brother removed from prison and sent to a rehab. He is giving Ye-Rim her own restaurant to start. He's allowing Se-hun to have his own Manhwa published around the nation and Yechan a lumpsum of money to live comfortably. Could you hate a man who is willing to do that just for your hand in marriage?

Your mind never wandered to a dark place. You never thought about harming yourself to get rid of Jungkook. But, what if you harmed him...? Surely that would allow you the freedom you needed. Yes, you would possibly not be given any money but...

You swallow. Slowly, you lift yourself, throwing your legs around Jungkook. You sit directly on top of him. He wore nothing but the boxer briefs to bed and you hum. Slowly, your hands placed themselves onto Jungkook's face, your eyes watching him lick his lips as he slowly regain consciousness. 

You then slowly trailed your hands from his face to his neck, then his shoulders. Jungkook's eyes flutter open, his eyes trying to adjust to the room to see you on him. Quickly - far too quickly - did you feel him grow hard beneath you. His hands grab your hips. "Are you okay, baby?" Jungkook's voice was raspy and deep when he spoke to you.

You hum out a response and nod. You are unsure about what you're doing. You grind your hips against him. Jungkook bites his lips, nails digging into your hips. He's keeping you steady so you won't move away from him. 

Your keep the grinding pace, your right hand slowly trailing upwards. You lean down, your lips centimeters from his. You can feel his breathing hitch as you caught his lips on your own.

Jungkook's hands are on your ass now. He feels euphoric to have you on him without him initiating it. You remove his lips from yours, giving it a quick bite before moving away entirely. His eyes are closed, goosebumps filling his body entirely. Then, he releases a sharp, loud scream when he feels a sudden hot feeling onto his chest. 

You tilt your head, a satisfied smirk on your lips as you watch Jungkook squirm beneath you when the candal wax reaches his bare chest. Jungkook jolts up, the candle falls next to you on the bed. Luckily you had made sure to blow the fire out. You feel Jungkook grab both of your wrist, a wide eyed expression on his face. 

"Did that hurt?" you murmur, trying not to laugh at the situation. 

Jungkook licks his lips. "Why'd you do that?"

Jungkook wasn't sure if he was upset or horny. The sudden feeling of the candle on his catches him off guard, yet it does nothing but make his cock twitch. 

"You looked too peaceful for my liking." you shrug. You were unsure yourself. You wanted to hurt him, to make him feel pain like you did. 

Jungkook connects your lips with his. It catches you by surprise the way he does it so needily.

"I feel like you want to hurt me, baby." Jungkook murmurs. He sends kisses against your skin. "I want you to sit on my face."

You push yourself back. "What?" you stammer. 

Jungkook chuckles. "I want you to sit on my face." he repeats. "I want to taste you. It's obvious you want to hurt me but don't want to go to great lengths in doing it."

You could only stare at Jungkook as he speaks. He amazes you - his logic. 

"I'll allow you to hurt me. As long as it doesn't go too far." Jungkook mumbles. He licks his lips at the thought of you sitting on his face. 

"You...liked that?" you stammered again. A part of you was hoping he'd want nothing more to do with you.

Jungkood nods hastily. At your hesitance, he tilts his head. "Has anyone ever ate you out?"

You shake your head. The conversation was growing suffocating. 

Jungkook's cock leaps again. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." he quickly exclaims. "I just want you to sit on my face and throw more candle wax on me."

Jungkook was a masochist. That caught you off guard. His eyes were gleaming for you to do it, almost begging. 

"O...Okay." you agree hesitantly. Jungkook can feel you clench your legs, and that tells him you want the same thing as him. 

"Turn around." he commands. Your back is facing him. He grabs the candle and places it into your hands. "Let's light it." he speaks more to himself than you. The electric lighter is on the nightstand when he grabs it. He wastes no time in lighting it for you. "Okay, are you ready?"

You aren't sure if you were, but you nod your head. You feel him gently grip the shorts you wore and begin to tug them down, along with the underwear beneath them. You're now bare in front of him - something you've never been. Jungkook sucked in a breath. He grabs you. You yelp when he lays his body down on the bed, you on top of him. "W-What if I suffocate-"

"It'll be alright." Jungkook hastily responds. He doesn't care if you suffocate him - it'll be a good way to pass out. 

You slowly lean down, and Jungkook takes this as his moment to stick his tongue out and swipe it along your clit. Both of you shudder. Goosebumps prickle along your arms at the weird - yet satisfying - sensation of Jungkook's tongue. Both of his hands hold your thighs close so you don't attempt to move away from him. 

You release a moan that strives for Jungkook to lick against your faster. He pushes you down onto him so you're straddling his face, his head moves from side to side. You could hear his tongue lap between your folds, your wetness and his saliva mixing into one. The act of getting eaten out was new to you - it reminded you of wet kisses. It was a pressure that sat on the edge of your stomach. You felt your body tingling all over. 

You nearly forgot the candle was in your hands until you felt Jungkook jump beneath you. You had unintentionally dripped the candle wax onto his stomach. By the way Jungkook does nothing but lick you harder, you deem that he enjoys the sudden act of pain. 

You stagnately grind against his tongue, a bite of your lip. The feeling was amazing, and a part of you hated it. You didn't want Jungkook to make you feel this good; afraid that you would become too blind to leave.

You whimper when Jungkook harshly slaps your ass, and in retaliation you drip some more wax onto him, this time on his abdomen. 

Jungkook moans against your clit, his tongue entering inside of you. You were definitely a virgin, far too tight for your (and his) own good. He's having the time of his life beneath you and feels as though he can eat you out for hours. The euphoric slight burning sensation to his skin, mixed with the sounds of your moans has him dripping with Pre-Cum. He wish he could fuck you - but he decides he'd rather wait.

You're caught off guard when Jungkook lifts himself up. In a swift movement he grabs the candle and nearly throws it onto the nightstand. He flips you so now you're beneath him. He kisses your lips - the wet juices now staining your lips. "I'm going to make you cum, okay baby?" Jungkook mewls. Your legs are wide open for him and all you can do is nod. 

His fingers play with your clit. His eyes watch your expressions with lustful eyes. He begins to rub, the sounds of your arousal is a sound he never wants to forget. 

Your head is pushed back. Jungkook slaps your legs open each time you attempt to close them. His submissive behavior is gone, and now he is determined to make you cum by all means. 

"I'm going to enter two fingers inside of you." Jungkook says. "It'll feel good eventually. I promise."

The push of his fingers inside of you makes you clench your eyes shut at the pressure. It's an act you haven't even done yourself, but slowly with each thrust of his fingers, it begins to feel good. 

Jungkook makes sure to go slow and steady, not too much to upset you and cause any discomfort. He can't help but marvel at how beautiful you look. The candle is still flickering and the moon is shining through the curtains and onto your face so heavenly. "You're so beautiful, baby." Jungkook moans.

With quivering eyes, you open them and look at Jungkook. His thrust comes more rapidly, and you can feel a weird sensation deep in your stomach. You hold eye contact with him. Your mouth opens to stutter out a throaty moan and soon you feel a sensation pool out of you. 

Jungkook moans with you. He doesn't care how messy you are while cumming, he enjoys it. It pools out of you hastily and you fall back into the pillows, hooded eyes staring into him. 

Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you. Eyes still looking into yours, he offers you a smile. 

You had came while looking into his eyes. You were utterly fucked. 

You're washing dishes - something you do when you're nervous. You're trying to ease your paranoia and think of something other than Byeol. You were alone with Jin-Seon for the night - at least until Soobin came home from the hospital. Byeol had been sick for a few days, but insisted she was fine. That was until the older woman was coughing up blood and had no choice but to go to the Hospital.

You hoped Byeol was well - you loved the older woman as if she was your own mother. She cared for you without knowing your back story. She loved Jin-Seon as if he was her flesh and blood - just as Soobin did. Their lack of judgment is what makes you worry for them. Their kind souls are too good for this world.

Your ears perk up when you hear rusting coming from the door. You don't turn around quickly, knowing it had to be Soobin entering. You turn off the water and flap your hands around. "Is she alright?" you asked Soobin. "I can't believe she..."

You turn around and your face falls and you stiffen.

"Y/N. Baby." Jungkook says. His eyes are shining when he sees you. It's been months and he feels as though he could cry in excitement. "You're beautiful. Glowing." he murmurs.

"Jungkook. W-What...how-"

Jungkook comes closer and you're trembling. He was the last person you were expecting to see. After the months - almost a year - of not seeing him, your mind told you that you were safe from seeing him. Your heart wished he found someone else to fulfil his desires of a wife and child.

"I looked everywhere for you." Jungkook saunters closer. "I've spent millions of won to just find you. It's as though you're determined to make my life a living hell." Jungkook laughs - a deprived but genuine laugh. "I've killed so many men for you. I put bullets into men for you..." he steps closer. "I bent over backwards for you, Y/N."

Your heart is beating out your chest. Your eyes trail behind him and besides him to look for an opening to run. You do, but you can hear him close behind you. As you reach the closed door to your room, you feel Jungkook's hands in your hair. As you open it hastily, it closes with a loud bang. You curse - Jin-Seon would surely wake up by the sound.

Jungkook pushes you back and tugs you into a tight hug. His nose is in your hair and he's inhaling as if your scent was the most delicious scent he's ever smelt. "I've missed you, Y/N." he murmurs against your skin. "Why'd you leave me, baby? Bam and Rasu misses you! I've been a mess without you. Namjoon-hyung said I'll never find you again but I knew he was wrong."

You feel the tears roll down your cheeks now. You let out a defeated sob. You thought that you'd finally be done with the man that was Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook turns to you, shaking his head. He holds your head in his hands. His thumb wipes your tears. "You know I hate seeing you cry, baby. Come back home." he pleads. You can hear his voice crack. "We can-"

A loud cry erupts, and now you're frightened. Jungkook's head snaps up to the bedroom door, his doe eyes wide with confusion. He hears it, the curling cries of what sounds like a baby. 

"Please, Jungkook." you cry. But Jungkook doesn't listen. He pushes past you to open the door to the room. 

Jungkook eyes the small baby crying, their tiny fists balled. Their face was red, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Jungkook turns his head to you, his face expressionless. 

"Jung-"

"You were pregnant." Jungkook whispers. It wasn't a question. His eyes swirl around the room. He sees the amount of natural tones, but can still see the little hints of blue. Above the bed, he reads the name. "Jin-Seon."

Jungkook's hand reaches out for the child. He places a finger onto his cheek to wipe the tears. Jin-Seon's cries turn to soft whimpers. 

"You kept my child from me." Jungkook was no fool - you weren't gone long enough to be pregnant by another man. "You kept everything from me." Jungkook swallows. He was angry - but he could feel the corner of his eyes swell. His mind races to you being pregnant, which would explain the glow and the fullness in your face and body. He imagines Jin-Seon - his son - growing inside of you, kicking and moving. 

"Y/N? Are you awake?"

Jungkook's head snaps up. 

Soobin was home, much to your dismay. You shake your head at Jungkook, your hands grabbing his. "Please don't, Jungkook." you plead with him. The crazed look in Jungkook's eyes told you what he was going to do upon seeing Soobin. 

"I'll deal with you later, Y/N." Jungkook hisses and he leaves out the room, his eyes wandering down the hall to Soobin, who is doing the same to the man coming out of your room. 

NEXT

If you aren't tagged, I apologize. Tumblr for some reason won't let me :(

@mwitsmejk @jnghs @shescharlie @darkuni63 @jeonzll @whipwhoops @douknowbts @ultimatebasura @yoongixthot @janedukiesworld @thvhoe @juju-227592 @etsuko-99 @teresaisla @barbiethingzzz19 @doublebunv @exfolitae @bjoriis @viren222 @raynom @swweetnightt @niki-sann @sweetempathprunetree @wonieeee

G.O.D (hakaishins), Kaioshins and Angels Hunger Games Simulator) Part 3/4

Less than half is alive, Arak is still 1st with six kills but due to the death of Liquiir, Beerus is the only person in 2nd place with 4 kills but third place is shared by the angels Campari and Sour with 3 kills. Universe 2 is still the universe with 3 deities alive, but I'm sure all that will change very soon.

Day 5 to Night 6:

Day 5:

lol Sour please don't bully Heles like this haha. Campari, you badass and same with Beerus, rip Fifth Universe. Quitela found out how Gowasu is coping through this, Eyre is his twin universe therapist.

rip the fifth universe, you will be alive in my wip draft.

Night 5:

I'm sorry but hahahaah- I'm laughing my arse off. What happening to the flower picker Pell, who turned to the dark side and gave karma to Sour to what he did to Vados. I am happy that Vados was avenged to the confusion of Agu and Campari who didn't saw it coming. Fuwa and Eyre choose violence (Eyre didn't like who Fuwa chose as a victim). Lmao Mojito, boy he snapped.

The Feast:

Gowasu: Free tea! (+food)

That is a perfect trio (Quitela, Fuwa and Mojito) who are unstoppable, rest in peace Pell, Eyre and Agu, they wanted to go to the Feast.

Day 6:

Beerus is back, baby with a rope and an angel's corpse. Oh no, Marcarita 😭 That means Campari is the only angel left, he is the best. Gowasu, be careful please.

rip to those lovely people who died so soon. let's see, what's next.

Night 6:

FUWA! huijofhurijr48jhif9u4jfroif- Fuwa, Gowasu why did you wanted to fight with Beerus of all people plus Fuwa. But Fuwa managed to kill Beerus, woah. Campari enjoying his beans and Quitela sees the food Campari made. So Universe 3 (Campari), Universe 4 (Quitela) and Universe 6 (Fuwa) is left. One angel, one hakaishin and one kaioshin, this is so even finale. Bet who will win hehe.

Click below to find out who won if you dare haha:

https://www.tumblr.com/awesomesauce2929/732828009700163584/kaioshins-hakaishins-and-angels-hunger-games?source=share

G.O.D (hakaishins), Kaioshins and Angels Hunger Games Simulator) Part 1/4

By Zeno-sama's order, another tournament is happening, but this time it is a fight to the death. There will be only one survivor at this tournament. Wish your favourite/s good luck. Bloodbath to Night 2: The bloodbath:

Poor Shin, what a sad death 😭 Lol Mojito getting his small schadenfreude against Lord Sidra. Korn and Beerus went boom boom against 8 people. Rip Khai. Whilst Khai lost his life against a blade, Anato got a nice blade of his own. Day 1:

Awamo wants answers why his best bros, Cuka and Whis were killed. Liquiir and Sidra went "nah." at the sus fire whilst Giin and Pell picked flowers togethers which is sweet.

RIP to those who died early, especially Universe 7 and 11 lost two out of three deities.

Night 1:

Arak, oh, you had to kill Cus, you are in the Daishinkan's bad books. Tch tch, at least he knows he can't kill much with a shovel. Anato, Iwen and Pell (soon Awamo joins) had a epic sleepover and Anato and Iwen got a nice flower bracelet or crowns from Pell. Whilst Beerus, Campari and Sidra has the most awkward sleepover besides Beerus just napping. Aww, Liquiir had a nightmare of Korn dying and well, that nightmare came true 😭

Day 2:

Holy heck. Good effort Vados and Fuwa. Sour and Quitela had a fishing trip. Sidra got food from the Danger Trio. Omg omg- the day was started peaceful! Arak, Campari, Liquiir, wow.

rips these lovely people who besides Champa and some extent Cus, we hardly knew them in canon.

Night 2:

hehehe

~ masterlist nct dream pt 3 !!

fluff ♡

angst ツ

smut ☆

done reading °

part 1 - part 2

all

texts: vs ur short skirt ☆

thoughts I think… ☆ °

reactions: the condom… ☆ °

reactions: when they first… ☆

texts: reactions to their… ♡ °

texts: “if we break up… ♡ °

texts: not saying… ♡ °

reactions: you wearing a ♡ °

teen romances. ♡ °

first kiss ♡ °

kissing style ot23 ♡ °

cuddling ♡ °

texts: reactions off birth… ☆ °

texts: revealing outfit ☆ °

dirty texts ☆ °

haechan

5:29 am ft ljn ☆ °

12:56 am ☆ °

glasses! ☆ °

movie night ☆ °

fwb ☆ °

texts fwb! ☆ °

sneaky link texts ☆ °

random texts ☆ °

settle down ツ ☆

7:35 PM ツ °

comin’ back for… ツ °

LOST THE… ツ

run that mile ♡

Distraction ♡ °

texts: boyfriend ♡ °

pancakes for two ♡ °

02:13 a.m. ♡ °

basketball player ♡ °

jeno

florist ! ♡

late nights ♡

racer boyfriend ♡

sunshine ♡

calm life ♡

hold fast ♡

MY PRIORITY ♡

SILENT TREATMENT ♡ °

[9:33 pm] ♡ °

[5:35 am] ♡ °

10:47 PM ♡ °

texts: alley (OOP?!) ♡ °

4:04 am ツ °

9::49 pm ツ °

Playing Pretend ツ °

that moment ツ °

Speak Now ツ °

Love me now ツ

The Bat & Dove ツ

pride & prejudice ツ ☆

stuffed between ☆

get smart. ☆

KITTEN LICKS ! ☆

I Loved You (Dangerously) ☆ °

babytrapping ☆ °

grab my hair ☆ °

CRY ☆ °

OVERSTIMULATION ☆ °

6:31 pm ☆ °

11:28 pm ☆

SECRET ☆

jisung

What A Plot Twist… ♡

pretty boy ♡

Every Summertime ♡

texts: boyfriend. ♡ °

texts: protective ♡ °

texts babe ツ °

such a creep ☆ °

7 minutes in heaven ☆

ONE KNOCK AWAY ☆

After Glow ☆

renjun

bf!texts ♡

jaemin

Best Friend ☆

Midnight Driver ☆

SUGAR DADDY ☆

KEEPSAKE ☆

BEGGING ☆

12:14 pm ☆

hands ☆ °

only for you ☆ °

drinking tonight ☆ °

best friend’s brother ☆ °

daddy ☆ °

6:05 pm ☆ °

texts: gamer bf! ♡ °

doesn’t get mad ♡ °

bad idea, right? ♡ °

sweet dream ♡ °

To Nurture ♡

After midnight ♡

[7.03 pm] ツ °

backburner ツ °

Like him ツ °

11:13 am ツ

part 4

HER | part three (m).

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

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

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

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

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

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

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

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

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

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

happy reading!! 💕

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

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

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

“I told you!”

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

Wonwoo did the same.

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

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

“I liked it,” Wonwoo said.

“Of course you did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

You started walking toward the corridor, and then stopped.

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

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

“I’d love that, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah—that’s all of it?”

“Mmhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately, Wonwoo got up from the couch.

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo collapsed back onto the sofa.

“I hope your journal’s not ruined.”

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

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

Wonwoo smiled, and fluffed a hand through his hair.

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

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

He scratched under the pad of his glasses.

“Is that what you usually eat?”

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

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

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Looking into his kitchen, Wonwoo laughed at himself.

“Ramen.”

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

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

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

It was a text from Vernon.

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

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

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

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

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

He glanced over at you, who was texting someone.

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

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

You scratched your cheek, continuing to text.

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

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling how dry his throat was.

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

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

“Right, Vernon.” You almost shuddered.

“Yeah…”

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

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

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

Snickering, Wonwoo rubbed a hand down his neck.

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

“Pfft. Did it, now?”

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

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll just deal.”

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

You grinned, shaking your head.

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

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

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

“Well, that soils my next question.”

You raised your eyebrows, “… which is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sorry—I just wanted to be sure.”

“It’s okay.”

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

“I would love for you to come, then.”

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

—JUNE 15TH.

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

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

At first, he wasn’t sure what to do.

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

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

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

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

That was something he’d never experienced before.

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

Wonwoo sighed, blinking away from his laptop.

He should probably just go to bed.

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

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

You made him happy—not you, plus Mingyu

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

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

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

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

Did you mean to send that to him?

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

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

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

[ Her | 11:55 pm ]: um yes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ Wonwoo | 12:02 am ]: Goodnight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gritted his teeth at the frustrating feeling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck had he just done?

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

Wonwoo had no idea what to make of his actions.

His feelings for you.

But he thought he should at least tidy himself up.

—JUNE 16TH

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

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

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

Immediately, Wonwoo received his usual greeting.

“Hey, Glasses.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? What’s funny?”

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

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

He could offer you something, and that was it.

But, now…

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

Instantly, Vernon groaned.

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

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

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

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

“… I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, can’t imagine why.”

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

“No—it would be traumatizing, actually.”

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

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

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

Wonwoo glanced down at his phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ Wonwoo | 10:41 pm ]: Gate?

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

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

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

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

[ Seokmin | 10:42 pm ]: Yup

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It seemed like stepping into another universe.

“Thanks for the chivalry,” Wonwoo answered.

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

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

Wonwoo had suddenly forgotten how to even move.

Until Vernon’s hand slapped his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

Besides, he assumed his friend would know better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay—she was fine, not gonna lie.”

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

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

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

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

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

He finally answered Seokmin’s texts.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred percent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good for you,” Wonwoo commended.

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

He smiled at her and mumbled, “thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She was DTF for you, holy shit.”

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

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

“That’s stupid and absurd.”

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

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

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

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

Flashing on his phone, Wonwoo finally saw your messages.

[ Her | 11:11 pm ]: wonwooooooo

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

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

He stared down at his phone, moonfaced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Move! Oh my fucking God—”

But your flash of contempt didn’t last long.

A second later, you were buckling into Wonwoo.

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

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

And you weren’t his to so unabashedly touch.

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

Fuck—he wanted to kiss you.

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

“… I’m sure.”

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

“Hm? Is what still true?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, I won’t say no or yes to that.”

“Hm. Figures.”

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

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

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

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

Despite your narrowed, seething eyes, you agreed.

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

“Uh, yes. I do. I understand.”

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

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

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

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

However, it might have not been the most thoughtful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seungcheol turned around, his mouth hung open.

“Okay—I was gonna pour out a splash.”

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

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

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

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

“What for?” Vernon asked.

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

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

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

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

“I’m starting to not even taste it!”

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

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

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

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

“If I’m not, I’ll buy you dinner.”

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

Princess smiled, squeezing his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He clenched his fist tight, nodding at her.

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

His utterance was met with a chorus of likewise answers.

Wonwoo suddenly felt your fingertips graze his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone began to settle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, right, right.”

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

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

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

Seokmin turned around, rubbing his face.

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

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

“Eh, depends,” his friend answered.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Depends on what?”

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

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

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

“Fair.”

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

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

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

Wonwoo shrugged. “Dunno.”

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

“Hm.”

“Anyway—whatever—random thought.”

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

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

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

“No, tell me.”

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

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

“Really? Is that so?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Apparently.”

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

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

“Maybe I do.”

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

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

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

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

Seokmin was biting his lip, hard.

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

“It’s not—”

“Seokmin!”

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

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

“Hm, don’t know her.”

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

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

Wonwoo looked down at his cup, almost completely emptied.

“… Um, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu sighed, tongue prodding against his inner cheek.

“Can’t make it easy, can you?”

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

“Never. You should know that by now.”

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

Nonetheless, it prompted your signature eye roll.

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

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

Your grip around the beer bottle visibly tightened.

“Bicker?! We don’t bicker!”

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

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

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

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

God, no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed aloud, attempting to steady his breathing.

Things would get better. They had to.

“Hey, Wonwoo! You wanna sit?”

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

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

Wonwoo nodded. “I’m good.”

Relaxing back into his seat, Seungcheol smiled.

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

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

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

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

“So it seems.”

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

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

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

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

“University?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Frontiers. You got a super good score.”

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

Seungcheol’s face immediately scrunched with laughter.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo picked at his thumb slightly.

“Uh, yeah, I do. I was born there.”

“Same. Daegu.”

“Changwon.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve heard…”

“So Seokmin says you like to write?”

“Yes. Reading and writing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“No... you’re not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

Wonwoo swallowed, thinking about what Seungcheol said.

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

Seungcheol took note of the glance, and he grinned.

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

Turning his attention back to Seungcheol, Wonwoo nodded.

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

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

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

“Does Mingyu always do that?”

Seungcheol chuckled, “do what?”

“He’s on her like a fucking sticker.”

Undoubtedly, his heart sank in at the predictable answer.

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

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

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

“Hm,” was all Wonwoo hummed in response.

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

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

Seungcheol exchanged an agreeing glance with Wonwoo.

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

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

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

“Oh. Maybe you can’t.”

“Shit—watch yourself, missy.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah.”

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

He bit into his lip, thinking.

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

“Papers, usually,” Wonwoo answered.

“Cool. I’ve got that.”

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

Princess swiped the blue bong from Seungcheol’s shelf.

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

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

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

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

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

Immediately, Vernon was tugging on Wonwoo’s sleeve.

“Can you roll mine, dude?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know yet…”

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

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

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

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

He simply ignored her while carefully tucking at the joint.

Wonwoo turned to Vernon again. “Lick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, no problem.”

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

“Okay. That’s sweet. Maybe later.”

You smiled at him again.

He smiled back.

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

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

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

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

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

He called.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fold.”

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

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

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

Nibbling on his fingertip, Seokmin shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m folding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bet. Here you go.”

More of those green chips were moved out.

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

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

“Okay. Raise, then.”

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

“Fine—have it your way.”

"I’ll call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seungcheol and Princess were a bit harder to read.

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

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

Princess was back to being the dealer.

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

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

Everyone called.

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

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

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

Seungcheol checked. So did Wonwoo.

“Raise.” Vernon was persistent in his choice.

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

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

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

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

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

“Call.” He eventually decided with a shrug.

Seungcheol agreed.

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

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

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

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

Everyone flipped their cards.

A moment of silence ensued, and then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ Her | 1:02 am ]: um no

His thumbs fired back a response.

[ Wonwoo | 1:02 am ]: Why?

[ Her | 1:02 am ]: bc I don’t want to

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ Wonwoo | 1:04 am ]: Yes.

[ Her | 1:04 am ]: fine

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, right. And Vernon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve gotta fold. There’s no way.”

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

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

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

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

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

But you just smirked and fluttered your lashes.

“What’s your move then, babe?”

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

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

“Raise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I can’t do it. Fuck you guys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless Wonwoo folded.

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

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

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

 “Should I make it more interesting?”

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

“All in.”

He felt a fist lightly strike his chest.

“Glasses! You’ve gotta match that!”

Seungcheol was rubbing along his chin, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

However, Wonwoo had already made his decision.

“I’m folding.”

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

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

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

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

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

Seungcheol sifted through the colourful chips.

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

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

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

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

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

Only you and Wonwoo remained in the attic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo tilted his head at you, perking an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

“I did? Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stared down at the joint aglow in his hand.

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

“Hit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked relieved.

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

Wonwoo quirked at you a barely-there smile.

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

You puffed out another hit.

“I will.”

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

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

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

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

“How are Bells and Clara?” Wonwoo asked.

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

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

Wonwoo swallowed more of his cold water.

“I take it Seungcheol owes you a dinner?”

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

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

Princess folded her arms and smiled.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She?”

“Her.”

“Oh. I was asking—”

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

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

“Sorry,” he answered, shrugging.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck—holy shit. Thanks, Wonwoo.”

But then the realization had metaphorically slapped him.

“My bad. Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

“Uh, all good...”

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

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

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

“I hope you’re feeling okay.”

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

“… Are you… sure about that?”

“Mmhm.”

“Do you need water or anything?”

“Don’t think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, uh, look. I don’t want to be—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jumped up?! You're one to talk!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, he was completely ignored.

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, at the nick of time, Mingyu had sprinted across the room, catching Bells' arm just before it lashed out in a strike.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Mingyu grunted while wrestling the smaller, feisty girl away despite all her manic squirming.

Wonwoo almost got nipped by the unbridled swinging of your elbow as he gritted through his teeth, “I wish I knew.”

He did know. However, it wasn’t the time to discuss it.

“Fuck! Just take Her downstairs!” The boy shouted.

Jesus Christ—that was easier said than done. Trying to haul you backward down a staircase as you twisted, kicked, and screamed a very colourful litany of profanities at your friend was the exact nightmare it sounded like. Vernon’s head had suddenly popped over the banister, staring down at you and Wonwoo, his eyes blown wide with pure befuddlement, as though he wasn’t sure if it was real life or a narcotic delusion. Princess had gone to help Mingyu calm down Bells. Seungcheol had joined the commotion, too, though he didn’t come across the most intelligible. His mind was all fog.  

And yet, somehow, Wonwoo managed to ply you away from the stairs and into the corridor with hardly a breath to spare.

—END OF PART III.

Next part of people of Assassin's Creed Unity (part. 3)

*never give up 😙

How Do They Apologize To You When They Make You Upset/Mad Part 3/3 - Azul Ashengrotto

Azul knew he had to save you, but he couldn't save you in this form since he still wasn't use to swimming with human legs. Azul was conflicted because in order for him to save you, he would have to turn into his Octopus form; which he absolutely detested, but if he didn't, you would drown. Azul pulled out a potion from his pocket, that would cancel out the effects of the human form, and turn him into his Merman form. Downing the potion, Azul jumped into the pool and began swimming towards you at lightning speed; as his body transformed. Azul found you and wrapped his tentacles around you. He then began swimming back up to the surface. Both of you reached the surface, with Azul still holding you with his tentacles, but you were still unconscious. Azul put his hand on your head, feeling a slight bump from where you fell, but luckily there was no blood. Placing his hand on your cheek, he called out your name: "Y/N please wake up."

Slowly you started to wake up and began to take in your surroundings: "Huh? What happened?" You realized that Azul was holding you, while floating in the pool: "Azul?". Azul gave you a soft smile and said that you accidentally hit your head when you tried to leave and ended up sinking down the pool, since you were knocked out from the fall. Listening to Azul, you felt something touching your legs, so you looked down only to realize that Azul was in his octopus form and some of his tentacles were wrapped around your legs and torso, holding you up. Azul realized you noticed his octopus form and turned his head away in embarrassment: "I-I apologize you have to see me in this form, but I had to save you from drowning and my human legs are useless in the water." You continued to look at Azul as he was still looking away from you, but you just smiled and ran your hand on one of the tentacles holding you: "I'm not disgusted with you Azul. In fact, I find you very beautiful in this form." Azul froze as he slowly turned his head back towards you, as you moved your hand from one of his tentacles, to his chest and then moving it up to his cheek. Blushing, Azul pulled you closer to him and laid his head on your shoulder. "You're the only one who has seen me in this form and not look away in disgust" Azul continued holding you tightly as you listened to Azul. "I wanted to apologize to you Y/N. I had gotten so use to making deals with students and taking their talents; that I never gave the idea of friendship a thought because I have a hard time trusting others. Every since I was a child, I was bullied for how I looked, and I wanted revenge against those who caused me pain. However, you came to this world and despite everything I did prior including my overblot, you still saw me as a friend." Azul slowly removed his head from your shoulder and looked you straight in the eyes with a bashful look. With a smile, you leaned closer and placed your forehead against Azul's. "I accept your apology Azul. No matter what you say or do or how you look, I will always be your friend and care about you; same with the Leech brothers as well." Azul let out a chuckle as he placed his hand upon your cheek: "You are one of a kind Angel-fish." Slowly, Azul leaned closer, lips coming to meet yours in a sweet kiss as he pulled you closer to him with his tentacles. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed back, as you both continued to float in the pool.

BICKER ‖ three

The kiss changes your perspective on Taehyung and so does his sexual confession to you. During a night out, you realize that there might be more to him than you’d thought.

⤑ word count: 11.8k ⤑ genre: angst, enemies to lovers ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ pairing: taehyung + reader ⤑ note: i’ve changed the name of OC’s friend to Sophia to avoid any idol shipping or anything like that :)

» Bicker – one | two | three

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flirty

so since everyone including me have been talking about the cradle awards or kyles route omg i still need to do fanart i thought i would spice it up with a scenario.

ok. so i did not finished lances route today, and the part when he erases the alices memory and jonah takes her to the garden, and i kinda felt like a spark? maybe i dont know with the alice and jonah in lances route and so i thought how HORRIBLE it would be for lancelot if the alice still didnt leave for london because she had grown feeling for the king of hearts right hand man, Jonah, and lance just looking at them and thinking thats how it should be since hes just a “beast” and couldnt give her the love and light she deserved

Old Art

part 3

And actually pretty good drawing

Drew some good hands back then

Part 1/Part 2

Somebody Else Is All You Need (PART 3)

Summary: What first seems like a moment of overthinking for you soon turns into something much worse than that when you find Rami with Lucy. Is a moment away from your boyfriend all you need, or will it take more than that to heal your heart?

I know it’s been a while since I last updated this series, so if you need a little refresher or you’re new to this series (welcome! :), here’s PART 1 and PART 2

Word Count: 4.4k (whOopSiEs)

Warnings: swears, it’s angsty, but otherwise it’s about the same as part 1 and two, so nothing too major

A/N: Well, here it is folks! The final part to Somebody Else Is All You Need. I’m still kind of in disbelief that a fic I wrote intending to be a one-shot is now a three-part series! haha, that’s amazing! Thank you for all the support, it means so much to me and it’s helped me find the motivation to continue writing. I wouldn’t still be posting fics without you all, so thank you!

Thank you to the anon who suggested we see Rami’s point of view in this one! If you’re out there reading this, I really appreciated your suggestion and I decided to incorporate it! I had to credit you, since it was technically your idea, not mine. Thank you for mentioning it to me, it was a lovely idea

I made a playlist to go along with this, as a little “hurrah!” to celebrate the end of this series. It’s a nice little thing to listen to if you’ve got a long commute, or just need to unwind after a long day. Here you go, I hope you like it

https://open.spotify.com/user/otisandpepper/playlist/31dgSwoNLUDFEH3HTPZD1F?si=qrGxgJIxR-GnfzJGS7Kd2g

(even if you choose not to listen to the playlist, at least consider giving this one a listen. It was the inspiration for the series actually, back when it was just a oneshot :) you can interpret it how you like! ;)

Rami couldn’t understand why you had to keep slipping out of his grasp. 

He had only wanted to talk. He knew that if he had ten minutes with you, he’d find a way to get you to forgive him and stay. You had broken him down to the most vulnerable, fragile version of himself when he so much as discovered your car in the driveway. He was over the moon that you had finally come back. This was the chance he had been waiting with trembling hands, and a trembling heart, for. 

But then Rami saw your suitcase. He heard the doorbell ring. He saw Gwilym.

That’s when the vertigo set in.

Things were still spinning, even though you had left over fifteen minutes ago. Was that anger that was making him clench and unclench his jaw over and over? Or was he trying to hold back the sob that made his throat feel like it was folding in on itself?

God, Rami wished he could just stop fucking counting every minute he had to spend without you. It was all getting to be too much, especially since this time you never said when you’d return.

If you’d return. 

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It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

In Danny's defense, dying scared the hell out of him. Living in a house of ghost hunters was a bad idea, so he left. It didn't matter that they were family. He was a ghost living in a house of Ghost Hunters whose life's work was the very thing that killed him in the first place. He died turning on the portal his parents had spend nearly thirty years working on with two witnesses to his demise. The natural response was to destroy the portal and leave without telling anyone.

He didn't get to that point, though. The first few months after The Accident had been constant ghost attacks, one after another. Danny had tried t understand what was happening, but between his friends on some level denying his death, the ghosts attacking on sight, and the powers he was developing not getting themselves under control, he was reaching his breaking point.

On top of all of it, the portal destabilized.

No one had been in the lab, thank god, but the ghost portal collapsed in on itself. The running theory his parents had was that the ghost boy had been the one to break it. Danny's running theory was that the constant back and forth and overloaded the system. No new actually knew what had been the thing to turn it on in the first place, so no one could actually prove anything either way. At least, that's what Danny hoped.

Danny knew, in the deep recesses of his mind, what to do to get it working again. He knew what to do to keep it open if he so chose.

It had never been his choice in the first place.

Danny had known it wasn't entirely safe for him when the house started to turn on him, but that had only been solidified when the portal had gone down, Jack and Maddie Fenton doubled down on hunting down the Ghost Boy. He was the only ghost left in Amity Park, so he was the only one the trackers would lock onto.

Six weeks before he turned fifteen, Danny left his home. He didn't tell Jazz or Tucker or Sam, and he most certainly didn't tell his parents. Quietly, he packed his things - only those of which that would be easy to carry - and left. He didn't bring his phone or laptop with him. He thought about leaving his wallet, but figured that'd be useful to him.

The last thing he did before leaving Amity Park was go to the police station and tell them he was leaving willingly. He refused to elaborate as to why. They didn't need to know that. He didn't tell them where he was going, either, just that he was leaving.

It was an accident that he ended up in Bludhaven. Four weeks of traveling had tired him out. His powers only making it worse. He was low on money and food, he'd been sleeping on benches and in alleyways, his clothes were all filthy, he hadn't showered in days- He was ready to collapse.

Bludhaven, from what he understood, had a much smaller homeless population that her mother city Gotham, but it was still a lot of people. Particularly homeless youth. Danny was just another kid in an alley when he'd finally collapsed.

It took three days of sleeping behind a dumpster before anyone noticed him. In that time, he'd only woken up once. Not having eaten in a while, he had no waste to expel, so his body had focused on keeping he rested before allowing him to wake up. That was when he'd realized the actual danger he was in.

He had no idea if human weapons could still work on him or not, and he was not trying to figure that out any time soon. So, before the group of armed guys who'd just come into the alleyway noticed him, Danny let the invisibility wash over him before he flew up and away.

On the rooftops is where he found the city's vigilante. He was dressed in a black suit with blue accents and a black domino mask. His weapon looked like a broken bo staff and was strapped to his back.

Danny was not inclined to meet this man, but he'd never seen another hero in action before! Sure, he knew they existed, but he'd never actually gone looking for any. No one in Amity had, actually. It was a peaceful place. Well, until he opened the portal on himself, but that was hardly his fault.

Sure, he wasn't going to meet him, but maybe following him around wouldn't hurt? As long as he didn't get caught, he should be fine. It was only for the night, anyway. He'd probably never see this man again after this.

At least, that was the plan until he accidentally followed the man home at three in the morning. In his defence, though, he didn't know that it was that early or that Nightwing - as he'd heard a few guys call him - was going home! Regardless, he was going to take this to the grave. He was going to leave Bludhaven come dawn and he was never going to tell anyone the he knows where Nightwing lives.

Again, that was his plan. Danny ended up falling asleep on the rooftop opposite the building Nightwing lived in. He slept through the day, only waking up when rush hour foot and road traffic got too loud to ignore. Just as he was getting ready to leave the rooftop, he spotted movement in Nightwing's apartment.

Now, he couldn't even begin to say what had made him stay, but he did. He sat back down and watched as Nightwing moved around his apartment.

It was messy, messier than he'd have expected, but he wasn't one to judge. What really caught his attention, though, was the uniform Nightwing was wearing. Now that begged the question as to why the hero - vigilante was probably the better term here - fought crime at all hours of the day. Why approach the problem both legally and less legally? Why align yourself both ways?

Danny was always a curious boy when something sparked his interest.

He was swift in his movements as he pulled out the binder of paper and scholork he'd taken with him. Opening up to the first blank page, Danny started to write.

He was a hero, whether people thought of him as such or not. He only ever wanted to help. Maybe he could help this guy. Maybe he'd feel some kind of accomplishment if he managed to help Nightwing.

Step one is to observe.

Part 2 Part 4

Tag List: @flame-343

I need to point out that I have gone off of the original prompt, if that wasn't already obvious. In the og prompt, Danny is an adult. In this one, as I continue my take on it, Danny is a child. I didn't mean for it to happen, but the words don't listen to me, I listen to them.