It's a lazy summer's afternoon. Too hot to be outside, which means your dorm-mate is, as always, draped over her bed—one arm slinked down over its edge, and the other slung over her face. She's certainly a sight for sore eyes; smokey rims around her eyes, lips are drawn into a plush pout—accentuated by the dark flush of her lipstick. You can't help but let your gaze linger. Look at her. So what if she had a bit of a reputation around your dorm? She'd never brought a girl in here—at least not when you were around—and as long as your sleep was at peace, you were happy with such a truth.

Okay. You had a crush on your roomie. Sue you. Getting with sleazy emo girls with too-many rings and clung with the smell of incense (and weed) was like, a mandatory college experience. At least, that's how you justify it in your head. That's not what spills out of your mouth when, suddenly, Wanda's fingers splay open across her face; and piercing blue eyes lock with yours.

A sly smile curls her lips, and before you can tear your eyes away and splutter out an excuse, she just hums, hand falling away to tilt her head.

"Mm. You like my new piercings?" She drawls, and a brief frown of confusion flickers on your face as you scan her features. There's not anything out of the ordinary. Even as you gaze drops down, down down, falling on the two little ridges raising he shirt—all the way to her—

Oh. Wanda throws her head back and laughs as realisation dawns on you, in the form of a choked noise and flushed cheeks.