#{I did make him a solo blog but decided to just bring him here because I'm being crazy}

[fromtenthousandfeet]

i can get behind your backing of new jeans, but the way you defend min hee jin is funny because that woman is crazy. you hate hybe so much that you think she's absolved of any guilt.

Hi Anon. Thanks for your message. I usually delete these asks, but I decided to answer yours.

I have a few questions for you before I share my own opinions.

Why is she crazy? Can you be more specific? Please don't answer with "she's a pedo, witch, groomer." Do you have clear examples of her craziness? What is she guilty of?

Have you ever worked under or lived with a narcissist? Have you experienced narcissistic abuse? What do you know about the effects of narcissistic abuse?

Why is it important for me to view her as crazy?

Do my opinions about her, BSH, NewJeans, or any of the members of BTS matter? Why is it important for me to agree with ARMYs about her?

You think your assessment of MHJ is correct and I think my view of her is correct. Which one of us is right? What if we're both wrong?

Now for my response. I follow a bunch of blogger on this site who don't like MHJ and criticize her. When I read their comments, I make a choice to either shrug it off and accept that we don't all have to see eye to eye, or in some cases, I just stop following them. I have never sent an anonymous ask questioning their views of her. Like seriously, who cares? We are all entitled to our own opinions. Nothing I say on this platform has any importance or impact whatsoever.

Contrary to popular belief (apparently), I am not some MHJ super fan. I don't have an altar of her set up in my home. There are things I like about her, though.

I enjoy her taste in music. You can see her playlists on her IG account. I like that she sources songs from up and coming indie women songwriters like Erika de Casier and Benee. I like that her creative directors are a woman and an openly out gay man. That's basically unheard of in highly misogynistic and homophobic SK. I like that the members of NJ aren't emaciated. I like that they're dressed like teenagers/young adults instead of Lolitas meant to appeal to middle-aged men. I like that she wants to change the K-pop industry, because it desperately needs an overhaul.

As for Bang Si Hyuk. I don't hate him as much as he saddens me. It's hard to watch him piss away all the money BTS made over the years. And now he's pissing away their creative legacy with his weird obsession with Western validation. To be honest, watching BSH move is like watching a Greek tragedy. Maybe he started out as a hero (yeah, no), but along the way he became blinded by hubris, ego, and greed. Sadly, he has the potential to bring down many other with him if he falls and fails.

Finally, all I want is for the members of BTS to be free. I want them to make the music they want to make, together and/or solo. I want them to have the freedom to live normal lives, speak their minds, have relationships, and so on and so on. I REALLY want Jimin out of the company, because they have never treated him fairly or equally, and they never will as long as BSH is at the helm.

Keeping tabs on HYBE is a diversion for me and blogging about what's going on is a hobby. That's as far as I take it. For entertainment purposes, I'm really looking forward to season 2 of BSH vs. MHJ! Let the battle continue! The NJ girls are likely days away from terminating their contracts with HYBE. Now everyone - Tokkis and ARMYs alike - should be happy.

I shared this article about MHJ a few months ago. I'm not sure if anyone read it or not, but it's really good. The interview with her took place before all the drama began and it's so interesting to read her thoughts on the industry. For those of you who don't want to read it, here's what she said about BTS:

Some BTS fans want to compare how well one member’s album does over another member’s. BTS is a group that’s been around for 10 years now. They did their duty, basically. So I think it’s time to focus less on the stats and just enjoy their music—[let them] do what they want to do. 

What she said about working with Taehyung was really nice, too. Anyway, here's the article again. Basically, she and BSH are polar opposites when it comes to their approach to music and the industry. For the life of me, I can't get this article to embed. Sorry.

https://www.fastcompany.com/91113146/k-pops-leading-company-has-declared-war-on-itself-this-never-seen-interview-profiles-the-creative-legend-at-the-center-of-it

P.S. One last thing on this already too-long post. I believe the parallels between MHJ and Jimin are strong. They're both super creative and have high standards. They're also both at the center of BSH's ire for being successful without him. MHJ's so-called crazy outbursts and press conferences are in line with someone who is new to gaslighting and narcissistic abuse. She was also a full grown adult when it started. BTW, gaslighting DOES make you crazy. I know first hand. Jimin's response to the years of mistreatment - pulling away, keeping a low profile, operating in self-preservation mode - is also indicative of someone who has been on the receiving end for a long time and from an early age. That's my armchair psychiatrist's take on things.

[mysteriesofmarcy]

#2: Battle of the Bands

I'm looking back at the blog and realizing we never completed Top Ten Tuesday! So since today is Tuesday, we're picking up where we left off.

The idea of a one-off fun episode sandwiched in between plot episodes at the end of the season can be a drag if done wrong (Gravity Falls - Roadside Attraction), but in this case (The Dinner / Battle of the Bands) it works.

In this pair of episodes we get a glimpse of what the home life of Anne, Sasha and Marcy might have been like prior to their involuntary vacation, we get a look into how the Plantars treat guests, we get a surprising glance at what Grime's career choice might have been had he not been born into a species-based caste system, and we get one last adventure in Wartwood before the excrement collides with the rotating oscillator.

Last episode was all about Grime, Sasha, and the Plantars trying to bury the hatchet with each other, but Grime and Sasha still having other plans to make this the Calm Before the Storm. Which did happen, but not in the way they expected.

This episode was all about just genuinely enjoying the calm period. As the mayor said, "we could all use some levity," and this was the perfect way to do it.

The idea of Anne, Sasha and Marcy having their own band back home felt a little forced to me, but it made the episode carry that much more weight. The #1 cause of bands breaking up seems to be creative differences among the members. So when that inevitably happened with Sasha quitting (and us still knowing she had another trick up her sleeve for the next episode), it was easy to see an ending where she did not rejoin her friends.

Here's the part of the review where the other bands get the spotlight:

Chuck and his singing tulips. That he apparently grew. Brilliant way to use him. (Side note: I wonder if he grew them in his own yard or in the Plantars' yard while they were away?)

Mrs. Croaker and Archie. Just such a dynamic duo that they needed a song.

Sprig, Hop Pop, Wally and Loggle. An odd pairing, but their use of the jugs... I just realized as I was writing this that Wally learned to play the jug from his father. And since he didn't know before that episode, he learned to play in the time since then.

And Grime. We don't get his whole performance, but it almost feels like he forced a win by ending the show with a 3 hour performance. On point for his character.

Then there was Sasha and Toady. I'll be honest, I was surprised that this act didn't come on stage. But I guess since Sasha already played in the Sharps, she wasn't allowed to compete in multiple acts. That means we never get to see the full version of Heartstomper, although I thought I saw it somewhere on YouTube.

Now back to the main event: the Sharps! I guess Anne's journey through this song sort of mirrored her journey through Amphibia as a whole, in that it started out solo, then Sasha decided to leave because she wanted to be in charge and Anne was left with just Marcy and the Plantars in a charming state, but Sasha ended up returning to make the ending that much more epic. Makes sense, too, because I've also heard that No Big Deal was written prior to the show and was initially considered as a candidate to be the theme song. And, if there's one thing I've learned through writing this blog, it's that much of Amphibia is a mirror.

And the song itself was a banger. My favorite Amphibia song by a country mile. (Come to think of it, there weren't that many songs in this show to choose from.) But still, this one was on par with GF's T8king Over Midnight and all three songs by MML's Just Getting Started.

Overall, just an amazing episode to bring the Wartwood chapter to its natural conclusion.

[irishhorse-blog]

You commented on a Jimin solo’s post and unintentionally insulted Jimin in the process of trying to stick up for another member, of course solos are annoyed. It not being intentional is all the more reason that I wish more army would reevaluate how they actually feel about Jimin. So many Army put no second thought into tearing down his artistic abilities in an attempt to bring another member up to fight against solos and akgaes and other fandoms with ‘no intention’ of insulting him. Because it’s become second nature to so many to discount him. Before the solo albums dropped so many called him the lazy one with no ambitions outside of the group and would just be handed his music if he did anything solo while the rest were real artists who would actually work on their own thing, and now that it’s clear that isn’t the case he’s still being discounted and it doesn’t matter if someone wrote/composed/produced on their own music or not (I actually agree as long as the music is good) but the double standards keep piling up. And when called out on it instead of thinking about how they feel about and talk about Jimin and what that may mean, so many just want to point back at solos instead of actually acknowledging the issue. I don’t disagree that akgaes are going too hard on JK, but it’s hard to not get frustrated with jikookers and army when I do not see the same amount of energy towards the ones who have been saying just as bad stuff about Jimin. JK akgaes are just as hateful, I’ve noticed Jimin akgaes using the same things that have been said about Jimin towards others (which is stupid and frustrating but not my current point). But none of you are hopping onto their posts and accidentally insulting a member and saying to stop victimizing them to make sure people stop talking shit about Jimin.

But all of this is pointless because the second you try to say anything you’re a solo who is victimizing and it’s an impossible discussion to have. I personally think Jimin is fine and don’t think his career is in danger of collapse because of a shady company out to sabotage him for no reason, it’s the people who call themselves his fans and other than calling him attractive can’t seem to decide if they even like him or the art that he creates that is disappointing to come across.

Jimin isn’t a victim, he’ll be fine, it’s the fan spaces that let him down. Thankfully, he doesn’t know how so many ‘Army’ actually talk about/feel about him. That would be genuinely sad to see.

I have spent hours and hours arguing and reporting netizens and Twitter handles and tumblr blogs and that hate Jimin. I've sent so many emails and alerts to HYBE that they're probably going to block me. I have posted many times about what an amazing dancer he is, his creative intelligence, and his amazingly beautiful soul. I have slapped back at every akgae I encounter. What you see on tumblr, and I'm pretty certain that nobody has actually seen everything I've written here, is not the sum total of my online existence, and it's only the barest percentage of my existence in total.

None of these men are victims. The fan narratives that try to portray them as such rob them of their dignity and infantilize them, claiming that they're so weak they can't defend themselves and need fans to do it for them. I don't believe they're victims, but I do believe that Jimin gets an unconscionable amount of hatred from many quarters for no damn reason. He's the sweetest, purest soul in the world, and he doesn't deserve any of the mistreatment he receives. It breaks my heart.

As for the post that started this unbelievably overdramatic fire storm, it was a mistake. ONE mistake. I have never, ever belittled Jimin before, and I will not do so again. I would never want to. I love him. I want nothing but the best for him. He is a treasure.

But nothing I say is going to convince the people who now come at me in hateful waves that insulting Jimin was literally the last thing I would ever want to do. You can all go on believing I'm faux ARMY, a two-faced bitch, or whatever else I'm being called. I can't stop that, I can't change that, and I can't erase the past. The best I can do is keep moving forward.

[omniishambles]

* pending complete *

New muse transferred!

Hexxus Fandom: FernGully Voice Claim: Tim Curry FC (specific verse): Jon Kortajarena

[4rainynite]

Infinity Train Headcanons

Just a bunch of Infinity Train headcanons I've come up with, I'm only doing five per character so it won't too long. I'm mainly gonna focus on the passenger characters and do the denizens later on. Majority of them have been posted on @infinity-train-headcanons already (awesome blog by the way), but whatever here we go:

Tulip

The reason Tulip loves onions so much is because when her mother was pregnant she craved onions a lot. Mrs. Olsen thinks onions are okay at best, but Tulip loves them.

Tulip is fairly athletic (that explains why she could do all those stunts on the train), but prefers gaming and coding. Her classmates that are on sports teams are greatly annoyed that she won't join.

Despite Lake being gone she can still take pictures of herself on cameras or through a selfie (and sometimes see herself in water), because those are images not reflections.

Tulip would so adopt a corgi and name him “Atticus the 2nd” and put miniature crowns on him.

When Tulip goes to Oshkosh she'll based her game on her adventures on the train. Not only will it be super popular, but some of the other campers and counselors will suggest some cars because some of them were passengers as well.

Lake

After, Lake left she accidently started a revolution in the Chrome Car. In the end (in a future fanfic of mine) there will be peace and Lake and a certain group of passengers will help.

Lake won't be able to start school immediately (due to Tulip being in middle school and Jesse being in high school) , but she is able to do homeschooling. Come next school year she'll be at school with Jesse

Lake lives in the Cosay's attic. They've tried to convince her/him/them (other pronouns) to take the guest room, but Lake's cool with it. Mainly, because she/he/they gets a view of the lake she/he/ they named themselves after.

Lake is super into art! It's mainly abstract and black, but she loves it! The problem is Jesse's parents have to buy the spray paint for her.

Lake loves traveling to new places and Jesse brings her/him/them along when the swim team travels to different places.

Jesse

After, the train Jesse decides to join theatre class/club. He mainly gets background or understudy parts, but he loves to sing.

Is a Chicken Choice Judy fan and gets Lake and Nate into them. Jesse and Lake theorize that Chicken Choice Judy were passengers at one point.

Jesse becomes closer with his swim team to be friends, he is currently co-captain.

Jesse really misses Alan Dracula, so, Lake got him one of those deer plushies as a gift. Jesse put glasses on it and named it Alan Dracula the Second and Cuddliest.

Jesse always picks vampire movies during movie night at the Cosay house. I believe he really likes vampires .

Grace

Grace's parents so would've sent her to boarding school after the shoplifting thing instead of just talking to her.

Grace will be the last former Apex member to leave the train due to her number still being high. In the meantime she still helps passengers lower their numbers.

There is no way Grace was the only person to form a cult on the Infinity Train. Grace's was just the longest surviving one of eight years, I won't explain why Grace's was the longest due to... cult stuff.

Grace rarely got to see her maternal grandparents, due to her mother wanting to reject her low-class upbringing. From what little memories she had, Grace misses them.

Grace regrets what she put Hazel through and wants her back, but she knows her leaving was for the best no matter how much it hurts.

Hazel

I don't know why but I see Hazel as a vegetarian.

When Tuba found her she was a baby, not a baby turtle, a baby- baby.

She and Amelia will be close, but will never have a true mother - daughter relationship. I know Amelia is trying to get better, but she admitted she's not a caretaker.

She'll sing Tuba's Lullaby to comfort herself in stressful situations and whenever she feels she'll forget her.

Hazel will be adopted by Ryan and Min-Gi when she gets off the train and Tulip, Lake, Jesse, and Nate will be like siblings to her. Okay, okay, okay, I know that's a very long shot, but Hazel deserves happiness!

Simon

Was a boy scout or took a survival class, I mean how else would he know about frostbite in Le Chat Chalet Car.

Probably went to way too many funerals as a child. I'm going by what he said to Hazel about neighbors brining casseroles.

Simon would get into fights with his teachers and classmates about being right about every little thing, even as a he was a narcissist.

Simon so had a crush on Grace way before their 'awkward middle school kiss' . After, Grace's betrayal whatever feelings he had were gone.

Was a fantasy nerd and wanted to be a fantasy writer. His trilogy book would've had his character based off himself being made a king.

Ryan

Ryan and his youngest brother are the only two in their family who wear glasses.

Is still on good terms with his ex-girlfriends (Disco Girl, Punk Girl, and Hippie Girl). Yeah, they broke up, but Ryan wasn't their worse ex and was nice to them. They love telling Min-Gi embarrassing dating stories.

He most likely had suicidal thoughts, once off the train he tells Min-Gi and gets help through therapy.

Despite not gaining attention during his solo gigs he did make a friend or two during his stops like the lesbian couple at the party in the Twin Tapes. Which helps spread Chicken Choice Judy's music.

Ryan is very strong despite his scrawny appearance, due to carrying equipment, changing tires, and other heavy lifting activities.

Min-Gi

Was diagnosed with dyslexia at an early age. His parents worried this would hamper him so they would hire a tutor after school when he wasn't playing with Ryan.

Is a really good cook, but his main specialties are Korean dishes (his mother taught him) and breakfast food (working at Dumpty's Diner).

Has an artistic side, but rarely used it except for the Chicken Choice Judy t-shirt. Later on he designs the covers for CCJ's CDs.

He most likely has a bunch of older cousins. I think Mr. and Mrs. Parks had Min-Gi late, so he's the baby of the cousins.

To me Min-Gi never shown in interest in dating or romance. His parents tried to set him up a few of their co-workers' daughters, but nothing ever happened afterwards. He does love Ryan though.

Amelia

I believe Amelia will get off the train, but when she does majority of her friends and family and friends will be gone and will return to the train.

Amelia will allow Hazel to play with the denizens while she works on the train. She may not be a caretaker, but she remembers being a child and children need to have fun.

I think Amelia was jealous of Min-Gi and Ryan, since the two remind her of Alrick and herself in their youth and what could've been if he lived. She dubs them 'Destiny Rubbish Duet'.

Amelia would monitor the Snow Car frequently to make sure One would never leave or any passengers interacted with him. But, the one time in thirty years she set her clock on the wrong time to wake up, allowing Tulip to find One-One.

The day Amelia picked out her wedding dress was the same day she got the news of Alrick's passing.

Well, that was a long post. I may do more in the future, so I'll just end it here.

[byunbaekby]

title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k   overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist  — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf��� for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe​ for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng​ the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno​ for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct​ for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep. 

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher. 

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.” 

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.” 

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?” 

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly. 

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair. 

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.” 

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating. 

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.” 

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.” 

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing. 

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after. 

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen. 

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror. 

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment. 

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye. 

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene. 

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him. 

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t. 

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you. 

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup. 

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past. 

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket. 

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud. 

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.” 

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable. 

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate. 

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit. 

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class. 

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound. 

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag. 

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves. 

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand. 

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room. 

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all. 

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long. 

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside. 

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.” 

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also. 

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together. 

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him. 

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life. 

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play. 

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands. 

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers. 

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him. 

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped. 

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.” 

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach. 

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand. 

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good. 

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him. 

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his. 

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room. 

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure. 

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him. 

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it. 

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence. 

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him. 

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak. 

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste. 

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him. 

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is. 

Shit. 

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly. 

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound. 

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again. 

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds. 

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life. 

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town. 

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set. 

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite. 

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him. 

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake. 

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous. 

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary. 

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study. 

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him. 

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate. 

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched. 

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover. 

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.” 

Your jaw drops. 

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.” 

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.” 

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.” 

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this. 

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days. 

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself. 

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny. 

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight. 

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking. 

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight. 

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be. 

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath. 

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial. 

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen. 

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment. 

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.” 

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth. 

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his. 

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg. 

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough. 

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week. 

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone. 

“Kind of.” 

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes. 

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier. 

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him. 

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?” 

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush. 

Cocaine. 

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip. 

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room. 

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity. 

“So, can I have some?” You ask again. 

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing. 

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears. 

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go. 

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him. 

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again. 

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking. 

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace. 

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure. 

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words. 

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” 

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high. 

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.” 

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down. 

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets. 

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist. 

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were. 

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it. 

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong. 

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out. 

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand. 

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away. 

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable. 

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know. 

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left. 

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him. 

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth. 

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin. 

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat. 

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck. 

It’s the cocaine. 

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!” 

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor. 

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—” 

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths. 

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room. 

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case. 

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.” 

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up. 

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life. 

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better. 

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems. 

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you. 

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him. 

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called. 

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods. 

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right. 

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 

But you’re not alone. 

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson. 

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 

[kotos-and-smiles]

The meaning of “I”

Chapter 104 spoliers!

Note 1. I’ll still be calling it “I” even though the translators are changing the way they translate it to be “peace,” because that’s what I’m used to calling it for now.

Note 2. Just a fair warning, this is a long post, but hopefully you enjoy!

Okay, I’ve been meaning to start this blog for months now but I’ve had no idea how to just start so here we are. I decided what better way to start off than talking about the newest chapter because there is oh so much to talk about in this one chapter alone. The first thing I really want to talk about from this chapter is the club’s song for nationals “I” or “Peace” as the translators have started calling it. Despite the fact the club has been working on “I” for a lot of chapters now, we still don’t know about the actual meanings and motifs that are in the song or what feelings they’re aiming to put into it. I think we haven’t heard much about this because the club is still trying to figure it out for themselves. Also, I’ve been questioning for a while what type of song Takinami would write for the club, and that was answered in this chapter.

What we do know about the song is that it has the 4-person part with Chika, Kota, Momoya, and Yoshinaga, a part where all 9 of the club members play together, a part where melodies played by Chika and Satowa and then Takezo and Hiro will intertwine, and everyone has a solo. It’s also been emphasized over and over that all 9 people are needed to play the song. Takinami has only given his usual vague hints as to what meaning he put into the song, because like always he wants the club to figure it out for themselves. Until we get to ch.104, in which Chika interprets it in such the opposite way of how Takinami meant it that Takinami finally feels the need to give him a hint as to what the song means (and thank god, because I really don’t think that poor Chika would’ve gotten it at all otherwise).

In chapter 104, we learn that “I” is actually a piece that can be played with any amount of the 9 parts and still be a full song. This is a huge deal, and honestly blew my mind when I first read it. Takinami has specifically pushed the idea that everyone needs to be there to play this song, knowing full well that in actuality the song would be complete no matter how many people played it. Everyone is still essential in his eyes because the point is the desire to play with everyone and the importance each member holds to each other. Takinami even brings up the conversation he and Chika had before Ku-on, showing just how huge of an impact the whole situation with Ku-on had on Takinami. With the performance of Ku-on, he saw what this group was really made of and what they were capable of, even in less than ideal circumstances they pulled through an intensely emotional performance. Takinami finally found a sound he couldn’t ignore. The conversation Takinami and Chika have in ch.25, when Takinami tells Chika he shouldn’t perform and Chika responds that he really enjoys playing with everyone, that sentiment made it into “I.” Except now, the tables are turned and instead Chika still desperately wants to play, but absolutely will not if it means no one else gets to and thinks that he won’t be able to, and Takinami has taken a complete 180 on what his stance was during Ku-on. Unlike in Ku-on, Chika is, in a way, trying to drop out, and now Takinami is the one telling Chika to stay and play. I honestly love this whole conversation between them, I love how Takinami gets pissed at Chika for even thinking about withdrawing from the club, I love that he points out that Chika is only 16 and does not have to take everything on himself, it’s just so great and just what I was hoping for: someone to knock some sense into Chika.

Anyway, then Takinami gives us the first hint as to what he intended “I” to mean. To paraphrase “Stop focusing only on what the others mean to you, and begin to think about what you mean to them.” This is something that pretty much everyone in the club has a problem with. They care about each other so much, will stand up for each other, but they don’t think about the fact that all the others care about them just as much. Takinami is trying to shift the focus from “these people are important to me” to “what do I mean to them?” hoping that these oblivious teens will someday get it. This works for so many of the characters.

Firstly, let’s talk about Takezo. He’s been club president from the beginning, and he’s always been a great one but has really come into his own. I think everyone sees him as an amazing club president, a leader that holds them together and believes in all of them as a whole and individually. He doesn’t see himself that way. Takezo has the opening notes of “I”, it all starts with him just how the entire club was brought together by him. He’s explicitly stated that he sometimes wishes that someone like Satowa could begin the song because he’s worried about the fact that his is the first sound in the song. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to give a strong enough opening because he still sees himself as a bit inadequate. But how does the rest of the club see him? They see him as this strong club president, someone who’s always been there as the foundation, so why shouldn’t he be able to start the song and be it’s foundation throughout? So, it would help Takezo if he saw himself the way the rest of the club does, because then he’ll realize just what he means to them and hopefully see what they do in himself.

With Momoya, Takinami made a big deal about the fact that he needed to want to play with the club, and that he had to want it for himself. This ties back to the conversation before Ku-on that Takinami has weaved through “I”. But it was also important for Momoya to take up an identity with his sound, to decide to be something, and own up to being someone with a mutable sound. He can fit in, but it all needs to be his choice. Momoya has also never thought about what he means to the club, and they keep surprising him with how friendly they are and how much they care about him. They just want him to be himself and stay in the club. Hopefully he starts realizing that soon.

If there’s one thing that Chika is truly terrible at it’s realizing his worth, both with himself and with other people. As Tetsuki says in ch.99.5 “I bet Chika never thought that he himself could be thought of dearly by somebody else.” Chika still definitely struggles with that. He has no problem letting everyone else know how much they’re cared for, how much they’re valued, but when it comes to himself, he still doesn’t see how he could be a person someone thinks of as dear. He still sometimes gets surprised by little acts of caring. With all this stuff with Uzuki going on, he’s more worried about the wellbeing of the club, meanwhile all the members are more worried about him than the state of the club. I think that’s almost incomprehensible to Chika, and yet it’s there, and in the next chapter it will hopefully come through loud and clear just how much they all care about him, but especially Satowa as she literally won’t let him do this alone.

Satowa, too, is terrible at realizing how much she means to people, as shown by the fact that Chika and the others literally have to spell it out for her sometimes. She doesn’t like being a burden, she doesn’t want to do anything that would disrupt or upset their lives. But she doesn’t really see how much those people care about her and that when you care about someone like that it isn’t a burden. Satowa’s self-worth is low, at least in some areas, and she always puts the club over her own desires or feelings due to having hurt people before, specifically her mother. Hiro even tells her in Ch.92 that the club can withstand whatever emotions she decides to express, but Satowa doubts that. Satowa, much like Chika, needs to come to the realization that people care more about her than they do the club, and again, thinking of herself from the perspective of how much the other’s care could help her realize this and her place in the club.  

Chika and Satowa both are afraid of being selfish, they don’t want to come off as selfish and they want to put other’s first, but their own feelings realistically get in the way of them being entirely selfless. As Granny says to Chika in ch.77, you have to cherish yourself to be able to give to others and it’s important to think about yourself so that you can have a life you’re happy with. So, both he and Satowa need to start thinking of themselves in a more positive way instead of thinking it’s selfish, which could be helped if they looked at how other’s care about them, which is what “I” is all  about.

Now let’s talk about these two intertwining melodies, one of which will be played by Chika and Satowa and the other by Takezo and Hiro, the section Takinami seems to have set aside for the oblivious lovebirds. Takezo and Hiro have each realized, on their own, that they’re in love with each other, and yet haven’t made the connection that the other feels the same way. Part of this is preservation of the club, but seriously how do you not realize? With Satowa and Chika, it’s even more complicated, and I plan to make a full post about it, but they certainly have never really thought about how the other must feel about them. Later on in the chapter, after Chika’s conversation with Takinami, Chika literally asks Satowa what she thinks of him. Not only did Chika take in what Takinami had to say, in the only way he’d listen which is through koto song terms, he thought about it while he was having lunch with Satowa and was trying to ask her a very important question about it before they were so rudely interrupted by the reminder of just how insane Uzuki is.

I think especially for Chika, Satowa, and Takezo, (who I look at as the main trio) this message of realizing who you are to the people around you is a huge part of their journey. They all need to stop denying themselves their own feelings, which is basically what Takinami was trying to tell them with “I.”

So, I seriously wondered for a while what kind of song Takinami had written for these kids. What better meaning could it have than pushing these people to realize just how much they mean to each other and start focusing on how those they care about see them, not just the other way around? Especially for Takinami, who puts up with a lot but ultimately wants to help these kids and believes in them.

I’m really glad he gave Chika the hint though, because I truly do not believe these kids would’ve gotten what “I” is about if he hadn’t given them that push considering they all avoid thinking about how the other’s must care about them, some of them I think are even afraid to think of it. It’s so perfect and I’m so excited to see where they go with it.  

ps. I’m new to posting and stuff, so please be kind.

[cosmiclatte28]

Just Friends (Jeno x you, Chenle)

a/nn : hey there, the ending looks rushed but its coz i wanna try and keep my promise of posting a story this week. I know it's super bad but I am trying to pick my writing nerves back. Pardon me for all stupid scenes but I am trying.. feels like i am back to learning crawling and walking.. but here it is!

warning: friend zone

characters : jeno, jaemin, renjun, chenle

He was always there when you needed him. No matter how sunny or windy it is outside, Jeno always finds his way to come and sit by your side. It’s amazing and wonderful how he always manages to ditch his works for you.

“I’m bored,” you send the short message to Jeno, your best friend. Usually it doesn’t take long before his message will come in with a reply like “Should I come over?” but not today. Lately, he has been acting differently. He doesn’t text you as often and he seems busy. You didn’t fuss over it at first. Thinking that finally Jeno is giving himself some time and is able to do stuff he wanted to do.

You waited for his text but nothing came in, you wanted to call but you’re afraid if he’s still sleeping. After all this is a Sunday morning, he might have played games too much last night and slept early in the morning.

“Were you guys playing last night?” you send another short message to his gaming friend, Taeyong.

Taeyong replied to you quickly “We did, but Jeno wasn’t playing with us. What’s the matter?” Taeyong doesn’t even need you to mention you’re looking for Jeno’s whereabouts.

“Oh, well I am not asking about Jeno, what makes you mention his name.”

Taeyong only replies with a laughing emoji and a “Everyone knows both of you are always together. He always mutes his mic whenever you call.”

You blush at that, something cool about him is that whenever you called to talk about some of your feelings, he could always pick your call up. Although you know he keeps on playing, at least he mutes the mic and he’s listening to you and you feel less lonely.

But you wonder if Jeno is just doing all of this because he is your bestfriend or he likes you. No bestfriend acts this far! They’ll reject your call instead.

Your brother has repeatedly remind you that you shouldn’t fall for his sweet charms. You always deny him and said you are just seeing Jenoa as your friend, but why does it feel different now whenever he picks your call or stops his game for you. He used to do that, but only now did you feel it as something special.

You finally decided to call him since its almost lunch time and he hasn’t replied your text.

You reach his voicemail and that’s something new.

“I’m coming over to your house. Is everything okay?” you send it and quickly dress up.

There’s just something unsettling in your heart to not get any news at all from Jeno.

You arrive at his apartment door right on time when his roommate, Renjun, is entering the building.

“Renjun ah!” you yell and the boy luckily hears you and holds the door open for you. You need access to get into the building, good thing Renjun is here.

“Oh (y/n), what are you doing?”

“Going to check on Jeno.”

“Oh when I left for the market earlier, he’s still asleep.”

You just nod and follow him to the unit. When both of you step in, you don’t see any signs of Jeno at all. So, you knock on his door and push it open only to find its locked.

“Hm weird, he locked the room.” you mutter.

Renjun saw you still in front of the room and asked “Oh it's locked? He never locks his door.” Renjun tries pushing the door but to no avail it's not swinging open.

“It’s okay, I’ll wait.” you knock on the door and finally hear a reply.

Jeno finally appears behind the locked door. His messy hair is still there and he lets you into the room.

“Hey, is everything good?” you ask after sitting on his bed and Jeno grabs a fresh pair of sweaters. He was just in his tank earlier.

He nods, his eyes still closed.

“Were you drinking?” you push his hair away when he leans to your shoulder.

He nods “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you but it was an all guys night.”

You nod “It’s okay, I was never mad you didn’t bring me. I don’t like parties that much after all.”

“My head hurts.” he whines.

You chuckle “Forgot to drink water right?” you push him your water bottle and he chugs it down.

“Have you eaten lunch?” he asks after gaining his soul completely

“Not yet, you want to eat somewhere?”

He stands up and picks his phone, fiddles with it for a while before finally answering “I have something to do tonight. Is it okay if we just eat somewhere nearby?”

Your brow raised in surprise, Jeno has never been this weird. He used to have his own events but he will definitely tell you what it is and not just vague news. But you don’t want to meddle too much with his schedule, so you just stand up and leave him to change.

“Oh hey Jaemin.” you greet the third roommate that lives with Jeno. He too, seems to just wake up from his wild night.

“Where are you from?” you ask the messy looking boy. Well his shirt is super messy.

He just smiles lazily and rubs his hair away “A stranger’s house. Was too drunk to remember.”

You just scoff “Getting laid again?”

The jock just smiles and washes his face with cold water. “Jeno has great self control.”

You just nod. Though Jeno said the party was all guys, you know there’s still chances of the guys bringing girls over and Jaemin is just one of the popular jocks here.

“You should come and join us next time. The drinks are amazing.” he shakes his head after washing his face.

You laugh “You know I don’t like parties, I’d rather watch movies with Renjun.” you plop yourself down on the sofa, admiring Renjun’s busy hands chopping onions as he prepares his lunch.

“Fine, but don’t be jealous if Jeno finds his lover.” Jaemin teases you. You’re used to the guys teasing you that if you don’t claim Jeno soon, he will get a girlfriend eventually and you will be pushed away. You used to think that Jeno won’t push you away if he gets a girl, but now you start to worry what if the girl wants Jeno to stay away from you? Now that is not Jeno’s fault but you will get hurt right?

“Kidding, don’t kill me. Jeno will be mad if he knows I tease you like this.” Jaemin gives you a quick side hug and you just roll your eyes.

“Come (y/n), let’s go.” Jeno appears with a fresh face, looks like he showered quickly before going with you.

“So, what did you do last night?” Jeno asks you when the two of you are already in his car and he’s driving downtown.

“Just in my room, checking on my blog and watching films. Not much fun, but I enjoy that.”

Jeno smiles “Sorry, I will accompany you next time.”

You shake your head “Why are you weird? It’s okay. I never force you to hang out with me because I know you don’t like to watch films.”

Jeno tosses a glance on you “But still, you’re lonely. Your friends are away on their vacation.”

You punch him “What’s wrong! This is so not you.”

He just smirks “Fine, you seem bored to have me around. I’ll go away so you miss me.”

You thought he was joking, so you play along. “Okay then, let’s see who misses who first.”

--

You stare at your phone and blink several times after seeing a text from Jeno saying that he couldn’t accompany you to the market because his girl wants him to accompany her shopping.

You were shocked at the news that he has a girlfriend and he didn’t tell you. And you’re surprised because Jeno never wanted to accompany you shopping, what makes him want to do that for his girl?

Now you understand why the other boys tease you, indeed it's you who is losing if Jeno gets a girl. Even if you get a boy, Jeno won’t bother too much because now you realize you are the one who loves him as someone more than friends, and to Jeno you are just his other best friend.

You grab your phone and begin dialing a number you remember by heart.

After five beeps the sweet voice on the other side greets you “Hello (y/n)! What’s the matter?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, the loud noise coming from the phone was pretty loud for eleven in the morning.

“You’re partying this early? Jaemin, it's not healthy.” you groan but the other guy only laughs “We’re not partying hard yet. Where are you now?”

You smile “Home, why?”

“Not doing anything?” he questions as he takes a look around his surroundings. No Jeno in sight

“Nope. I’m just in my house alone, why?” Jaemin’s breath hitches and he gulps “Oh that’s weird, Jeno is also not here.”

“Where are you at?” your curiosity peaks and the sweet guy replies “Go change, I am having a summer pool party at Jaehyun’s house. Come join us, we’re having barbecues and some afternoon fun and games. Renjun will pick you up in thirty minutes.”

You take a look at Jeno’s text and finally decide that you should just go have fun in the sun.

“Okay, just wait Renjun.Take care and see you!”

You glance at your phone one last time, still no text from Jeno at all. Maybe this is it, the sign and time to finally let go of the “more than friends” feeling that you have on your bestie.

After donning your summer dress and taking a piece of swimsuit, you put your sunglasses on while taking the stairs down to meet Renjun.

“Hello there hottie,” Renjun chuckles when you already sit down nicely beside him.

You roll your eyes “What? I’m here to have fun.” you snicker and Renjun just shakes his head before finally accelerating to Jaehyun's house.

The host greets you nicely and Jaemin greets you to a bone crushing hug. You just hug him back before checking around to see who is here. Some of the guys here are familiar but some of them are also strangers to you.

“Do you know everyone here?” you nudge Jaemin’s elbow and the guy nods while sipping from his red solo cup “Everyone’s my friend here. What? You have an eye on someone already? I thought you’re loyal to Jeno.”

You scoff and hit his back “Shut up. We’re only friends and he got a girl. Now I want to make more friends, who is that guy?” your eyes focus on the young lad who has a black shades on, his fluffy brown hair just flying with the wind and suddenly you know Renjun is talking to him and he bursts into a super loud high pitch laugh. Interesting.

“Oh, that is a student from China, his name is Chenle, come I can introduce you to him.”

Before you can shake your head, Jaemin already drags you to the guy and they seem close because the next thing you know Jaemin is already introducing you to the cute guy.

“I’m Chenle, nice to meet you.” he extends his arm and you grab his palm, shaking it “(y/n), pleased to meet you too. So, can I get to know you better?” you wink and make the guy in front of you smirk.

Behind Chenle you can see Jaemin and Renjun stifling a laugh. The two guys wink back at you and leave you alone with Chenle.

Deep inside your heart you know why Jaemin and Renjun sent you that wink. They know you are moving on to the hot stuff in your sight and slowly forget about the unrequited love you have for your best friend.

After all, the myth is 90% right. When a guy and a girl become good friends, one of them will fall in love and still the best way to keep the friendship going is to keep being just friends.

So, maybe this Chenle sweetheart will be your boyfriend, or maybe someone else. Whichever that is, you have to let Jeno go to his significant others.

end or maybe there will be a part where you get to know Chenle and Jeno is jealous

net @superm-net @multifandomnet

[allwaswell16]

Do you happen to know any Larry fic inspired by the song Medicine by Harry?

Hi! So here's what I found for you...

You got that something, I got me an appetite by Only_angel_28 / @beau-soleil-louis

After years of being forced to hide their relationship, Harry and Louis decide to come out with a bang.

couldn't be more in love by cabinbythesea

Louis Tomlinson is thirty-one. Harry Styles is not. (Best friends with a seven year age gap who fuck because they are both actually smitten and, let’s face it, hot as fuck together).

Featuring an engagement ring without actually being engaged, a Medicine by Harry Styles reference, and a painful playlist.

Lately You've Been On My Mind by @lululawrence

Louis was jamming with Harry as he watched the chorus once more and started the second verse, but then Harry went up higher than Louis was expecting and fully put his entire self into a line where he explicitly said the boys and the girls. Louis felt his entire face go slack, because afterwards it sounded like Harry said, “I mess around with him and I’m okay with it.”

“Fuck,” Louis whispered, scrambling and accidentally minimizing the screen. He pulled it back up and paused it before he rewound it and watched it again, and then once more.

“I…” Louis blinked at the camera and couldn’t even bring himself to pause recording. He just stood up from his chair and left the room, walking into his bathroom to try to pull himself back together.

Or five times Louis makes reaction videos to Harry's performances and songs, and the one time they actually meet.

No GAY! by Stylinson_28 / @stylinson28fics-blog

Harry has his favourite conversation ever during his Sunrise, Florida show and gets more out of it than he ever could have wished for.

Featuring Gay Vodka ;)

Somewhere Where You're There by metal_eye

"The greatest luxury, in this new part of their lives, should have been time. It stretched at varied intervals with no attention to what the real world might find convenient. Hours yawned like horses’ mouths, stretching backwards in the effort of seconds. Except that Harry couldn’t help feeling like he’d missed out, somehow. That he needed to hurry. They’d been denied their formative horny years. Something had to give."

A Caught by the Sun timestamp in which they are both lazy and horny, and some things get resolved.

The press conference by fairyfions

Harry is still mad at everything and everyone and just wants to forget about the time he spent in One Direction and the day everything fell apart. But a phone call 5 years later pushes him right back into his old life. Will the band be able to get back together? Will he even recognize Louis after all these years and will the spark between them still be there?

Medicine by thisisafamilyshow_orisit

Louis exhaled shakily and shifted slightly, placing a hand in Harry's curls. “There you go, baby,” he murmured, playing with his boy's hair while he sucked him. “That's a good boy, take what you need, love.” Louis swallowed thickly, leaning his head back against the headrest. No matter how often this happened, he never got used to Harry's mouth - the soft velvety heat of it, the obscene wet slurping sounds Harry made as he got into it, but mostly the mindfuck that he could never get over was the fact that Harry did this for himself. He truly felt like he needed Louis’ come to feel better, his “medicine,” he liked to call it.

Or: Another very self-indulgent fic featuring Harry with an oral fixation and Louis being Daddy af.

up to your mouth, feeling it out by ShapeOfLou

A quiet picnic in the part takes a drastic turn

Think I'm Gonna Stick With You by Kachina

Louis Tomlinson is doing just fine on his own, working on a solo album and being a judge on this year's X Factor. At least that's what he thinks until he is confronted with all of his restrained emotions during the first night of the X Factor finals.

take my medicine (treat you like a gentleman) by kwitegay

"Yes, god yes, just..." He bites his lip, looking him dead in the eyes, "Use me. Use me as a fucking toy, Louis. Nothing will give me more pleasure." in which cock and being used are harry's medicine, and louis happy to give it to him.

make me take my medicine by @velvetnoodle

Here to take my medicine, take my medicine / Treat you like a gentleman Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline / Think I’m gonna stick with you

An unusual thrift shop find by Harry leads to a very interesting evening ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[dinosaurtsukki]

BSD x university au hc’s | pt. 2

part 2 of the university au hc’s !! i am obviously a slut for chuuya and fyodor so don’t mind me. i hope you guys like this !!

check out pt. 1 here

***********************************************

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke:

i love akutagawa ryuunosuke my angst child but i’m just like ‘hmmmmmmm’ when it comes to what his course would probably be

after extensive research aka reading his character page on wiki i feel like maybe he’d be a history major because,,,, he likes antiques?

well his clothes do seem very dark academia-esque and i can see him liking something as cool as history

akutagawa’s probably into something like war history but he’s not weird about it he just finds it really cool how different strategies work or analyzing what exactly makes the winners win

he absolutely HATES the fact that he keeps having to read the Iliad for class

he’s also that classmate who INTENSIVELY DEFENDS achilles for being a bit of a little bitch (but he fully agrees that patroclus and achilles were gay af ok this was random moving on)

akutagawa has practically no social life. he doesn’t go to parties, he doesn’t talk to his roommate, he doesn’t even like to eat in the dining hall

BUT he absolutely loves being in debate team because WINNING

he’s such a nightmare to work with though but he just delivers so well when it’s time for him to speak. like, if he’s on a negative and it’s time to hash out rebuttals, just prepare to get MURDERED

other debaters: “esteemed scholars and adjudicators...”

akutagawa: “you, sir, have no idea how wrong you are.”

that is until dazai decided to randomly show up at a debate tournament all ‘la di da da’ like and completely crushed akutagawa along with his ego

from then on he started stalking dazai and just SOMEHOW managed to end up in his circle of friends

even though he’s antisocial in real life, akutagawa 100% runs a dark academia aesthetic blog on tumblr i’m right and i don’t accept criticism

it’s actually really good he has a ton of followers and even does requests for moodboards if someone asks nicely

atsushi was the one who actually found out about it but he’s nice so he didn’t tell akutagawa about it

kunikida probably follows that blog

Chuuya Nakahara:

if this part sounds like i’m just thirsting for chuuya then you’re absolutely right i love wine man

don’t get mad at me but i can ABSOLUTELY SEE HIM MAJORING IN FASHION DESIGN I MEAN LOOK AT HIM

he’s just always had such a good eye for fashion and he’s veryyy meticulous when it comes to snipping and putting together clothes

chuuya also carries a sketchbook full of designs and his drawings look amazing and he isn’t afraid to just show them off

that said he doesn’t dress like a tired uni student at all, like he just always looks so on-point and unbothered by his five million deadlines

dazai: chuuya, i said this was a CASUAL LUNCH

chuuya, dressed in what looks like silk pajamas: THIS IS CASUAL

tbh if he just wore a white t-shirt and jeans i would die maybe he’s actually saving us from this ordeal

he has so much talent though as a designer he’s probably had several internships with design companies all throughout his years at uni

i feel like chuuya’s also really active in extracurriculars and has been in leadership positions in some of them (he probably runs the student org for fashion design)

chuuya in a student band though oh my gosh i can’t breathe i can’t breathe him as a VOCALIST?? and wearing torn jeans and eyeliner and that same hat in concerts ican’t brEATHE

okay in all honesty he would thrive being in a band chuuya loves the attention and the creativity of being able to design their whole look and write songs

tbh i don’t know if he’d have a roommate chuuya’s probably the type who’d rather have one of those single rooms or just rent a flat for him to stay in even after graduation

because his social life is super vibrant, he does have a lot of friends and he does make an effort to get to know all of them individually 

but he’s more open around those who he’s been friends with for a really long time and as much as he’d like to say dazai isn’t one of them, he is

also chuuya is definitely the type to party hard during the weekends and has more than once crashed in someone’s house after drinking too much (dazai drew on his face on more than one occasion)

Oda Sakunosuke:

i love this man SO MUCH you guys have no idea i would literally die for him

100% this guy majors in creative writing because this is supported by FACTS and not just me wanting to be coursemates with him in this fictional world

super serious and diligent with his work especially since he’s passionate about writing. he loves to read in his spare time and is such a fan of classic novels about social realism or philosophy

oda spends 99% of his time in second-hand bookshops that the owner probably knows him by name at this point

he’s super old school when it comes to writing though, like he still keeps and writes in a notebook before typing it up on a laptop and no matter how many times dazai tells him its impractical, oda just keeps doing it

lmao whenever workshops come around he’s super nice with his critique. i bet a lot of his fellow classmates like sending their writing drafts to him

he draws smiley faces and always adds ‘nice work’ on people’s drafts omg i love odasaku

he’s such an old soul, he probably doesn’t do a whole lot of partying but he likes more quiet, private social events like drinking with close friends or just hanging out and talking at other people’s houses

he and dazai probably met when dazai decided to take an intro to creative writing class and wrote a long poem about double suicide on his first day that kind of put off everyone in the class from wanting to sit with him

odasaku was the only one who wasn’t exactly bothered but he did give dazai some comments to help him with his poetry and dazai instantly wanted to be his friend

in terms of extracurricular life, i can definitely see odasaku joining a writing organization and even the campus newspaper. he does find joy in interviewing students for newspaper articles

he’s also pretty into photography and uses a really old, second-hand camera that he bought at an antique store and fixed himself. at one point he won a prize in a contest

odasaku would be the best roommate. he’s super sensitive to when you have a bad day and will invite you to sit on his bed and hug his pillow and talk about your problems

scratch that, everyone talks to odasaku about their problems and now your room is like a therapist’s office

Edgar Allan Poe:

i swear this was the only gif i could find other than actual edgar allan poe

ANOTHER CREATIVE WRITING BUDDY AHHH I WOULD LOVE TO BE BESTIES WITH HIM AHHH

well actually i feel like since he’s super ambitious and already has a fixed idea on the stuff he likes to write, he’d probably double major in something like forensic science because he’d use it to write his mystery novels

omg that’s where he meets ranpo and now pretty much every main character poe writes is slightly based on on ranpo

it’s a problem. his professor brings it up more than once during his classes but it’s poe’s Thing now

he also has such an unending passion for gothic literature and he wears those white, long-sleeved blouses and waistcoats on a REGULAR BASIS

chuuya probably saw him once and was like ‘hmm, i could pull that off’

poe’s daily route is just going to the library and to class and then go home and that’s about it

he ended up working as a student assistant at the library because he’s just super familiar with the book collections and it’s a job that’s peaceful and quiet 

more than once though, he’d just be really in-deep with his writing to the point that he doesn’t even notice that the library has closed or that he hasn’t eaten the entire day

that’s alright though because ranpo always passes by the library at night to check on his friend and (reluctantly) give him some snacks

also since poe’s pretty much a recluse, he doesn’t go to any social event UNLESS it’s a halloween-themed one

he loves going all out with his costumes because he’s a Drama Queen like that but the problem is he keeps dressing up as gothic novel characters and nobody gets it

dazai, trying to guess his costume: umm,, Two-Face from Batman?

poe: IT’S DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

there was this one time when poe took it upon himself to host the halloween party and it was EPIC

he basically designed it as a murder mystery night wherein everyone who came pretended to be guests at a house and then a murder happened

the only problem was that ranpo was conspiring with poe and it was pretty much unfair

except for the fact that ranpo was frustrated at how bad everyone was at deducing that he ended up solving the mystery for them

Fyodor Dostoevsky:

one of my favorite scenes of him in s3 was of fyodor playing the cello because god damn that is beautiful and therefore i am hc-ing him as a music major and you can’t tell me otherwise

fyodor is an absolute music genius and he was definitely scouted by the university’s music program and then he was granted a scholarship (because in this ideal university, the arts are valued)

he purposely decided to go to a university rather than a music conservatory because he’s also interested in learning a bunch of other things

aside from his music classes, he ventures into comparative literature and philosophy, even a bit of computer science at some point

people always assume that since he’s a music major he probably wouldn’t do well in other subjects but SURPRISE BITCH

anyway, fyodor’s a genius because god clearly has favorites

aside from attending class, he’s even part of an official orchestra and has even landed a few solos 

that said, he’s quite busy and very preoccupied in his own work to actually have a social life either

you’ll often find him rehearsing by himself in an empty classroom for hours and hours on end (someone pls bring him food he’s also the type to forget to eat or even drink water)

if you are able to catch him perform at an orchestra or just practice by himself, it’s quite a mesmerizing sight. his eyes are often closed so he could focus on the sound alone and his fingers move so elegantly along the neck of the cello

(sorry i just love people who play any form of stringed instrument)

fyodor also takes such good care of his cello. also he would probably kill you on the spot if you touched his bow

he has a fairly small group of friends and they like playing chess together (even though fyodor is better than all of them) and just talk about um,, idk philosophy and stuff (whatever it is smart people do idk i’m not one of them)

i have a feeling he actually follows akutagawa’s dark academia blog and loves his content, even to the point of requesting ‘cello player moodboards’

also because he’s a cello player he needs to take care of his fingers so he wears gloves a lot (idk why i find this hot)

***********************************************

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @tpwkatsumu @laure-chan

[lesbian-vmin]

Ask Roundup #1 - Vmin

Hey, guys! I promised to be here at least once this weekend and answer some asks. As I’ve been terribly busy with work, a lot has built up in the in box. With over 200 asks to get to, I decided it would be better to take an idea from romanticdrift and do an ask roundup and sort of answer what I have so far. No, I won’t answer all 200 in this post because a lot are very similar. But I’ll be summarizing asks and clearing out my inbox. Many of these are paraphrased, but keeping the original context. (vmin focus only)

Discussed in here

The importance of vmin friendship

4 o’clock

Chim’s reaction to Tae calling during kimbap live

No vmin live

Sad Tae / Vmin tension

Vmin friendzoning

I was going to add more asks to the mix, but this got really long with just the few that I answered. I also tried to do a mix of soft vmin and people wanting me to expand on some idea of vmin not being close or the “friendzone” thing.

(BELOW THE CUT)

anonymous asked:

Part of me wishes that vmin was real. Another part of me doesn’t want them to be. Don’t get me wrong, I ship them and don’t have a problem with the idea of them being gay and in love. But somehow I really like the idea of them being best friends who just really care deeply about each other. Does that make sense?

That makes perfect sense to me, honestly. I often talk about the value of friendship on this blog and how friendships are just as important as romantic relationships. If vmin have the close bond they do with each other, and it’s totally platonic, it sort of proves that there are friendships out there that have connections just as deep as romantic love.

This is one of the reasons I don’t push the “romantic vmin” agenda too hard. Because their friendship is perfect and ideal if that’s all it is. It really puts the statement “something deeper than friendship” to shame. Because what’s deeper than friendship? In fact, a romance with someone you can’t also consider your best friend doesn’t seem deep at all. It’s almost like “friendship” is what make romantic relationships deep. You know what I mean? You just won’t have the same connection with a romantic partner if you’re not also friends with them. So it’s silly to me how friendships are often devalued.

Regardless of what type of relationship vmin have, I think it’s okay for them to be the model of the type of relationship someone else would want to have. Whether it be with a friend or an s/o. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a romantic relationship that matches someone else’s friendship. And, if you don’t think vmin is real but still relate to them as “couple goals” because that’s the kind of relationship you want, then that’s fine. That’s actually sort of the kind of shipper that I am.

someone asked:

Tae started crying at the end of 4 o’clock during their performance. But if it’s just about the dumpling fight, why would he cry? Am I delulu? Was the fight really that intense?

someone else said:

Chim was smiling and stuff during the practice of 4 o’clock. So I think he had to have known that the song was about him?

These asks were from an anonymous person, but they were two separate asks. So I wanted to specify them as two separate asks in this post, but answer them together.

First things first. Let’s get a few links in here that you can reference to understand my answer a little better if you don’t know the whole story.

Four O’Clock | RM & V perform 4 o’clock live | The practice for the performance | The Friends Unit Interview | My (Old) Analysis of the Interview | Vlive in Which Chim Talks about The Incident | Vlive in Which Tae talks about the Incident

Okay. Let’s talk about Tae crying during the performance. I can’t actually say that he really cried, but he did seem to get emotional at the end. It’s a song that’s about a fight that is a big staple in their friendship. I think it’s pretty obvious that there’s more to the dumpling incident that they’re not telling us. I don’t think that’s the first time they would have had such an argument. They probably argue about whether to eat pizza or burgers all the time, and whether they should have dinner first and then watch a movie or watch a movie and then eat dinner.

Just the fact that Chim stated that he had to go and have a drink with Syub after the fight tells us that there was more to the incident than they are telling us. You don’t go and drink yourself drunk because you and your best friend can’t agree on whether to eat dumplings before or after practice.

I think that incident is one of the building blocks of their friendship. I think that it happened at a time they were going through a lot of changes. We know that Chim tends to be pretty possessive, and this was at a time that Tae started having his own schedule because of Hwarang. I think there were a lot of sudden changes to things, and that stressed them out and put some strain on their friendship. And it’s possible that’s entirely wrong.

Either way. It’s pretty clear there’s more to it than dumplings. But we can’t begin to analyze and figure out what it is and expect to be remotely accurate. And quite frankly, no matter how curious any of us may be, it’s none of our business. If they wanted us to know the “obviously more to the story” part of the story, they’d tell us.

And now. I guess I could have handles the two asks separately. But anyway. I’ve already talked about how I think Chim did already know that 4 o’clock was about that incident. So check the interview analysis I linked above for my discussion on that topic. I’m going to be going through my analyses soon and updating them, but that answer will do for now.

anonymous asked

You talked about Tae calling Chim on his live but what your thoughts about Tae caling during Ji / kook live. Chim was so unprepared and Kook was laughing about Tae calling and I guess Chim’s reaction to it. Chim didn’t seem to be in the flirting mood. I just wanted to know your thoughts on it.

I believe I have talked about this before somewhere, but I’m not entirely sure. So the live you are referring to is the kimbap making one (x). So, I’m going to reference the Mandago Incident in this answer, and I did an analysis on this live before. I’m going to link to the analysis I made. A link to the last mandago live can be found in that analysis. (x)

During the last mandago that we got, I really got the feeling that Chim wanted to do a live with Tae, but Tae didn’t want to join him. We have Chim being all sour and pouty and even down right petty in that last live, and I sort of got the same vibes from his behavior when Tae called during the kimbap live.

We know that Chim keeps saying he want to do a vlive with Tae, but it never happens. What the real story behind their lack of a live together is, we may never know.

I have a theory about this one, but it is just a theory. It’s probably not even remotely true, and there are thousands of other possibilities than what I’m about to say in regards to this live.

I think that it’s possible that the Ji / kook kimbap making live was supposed to be a vmin kimbap making live. Or vmin / kook, but I’m leaning further away from that option for this analysis to make a little more sense in relation to the mandago one (which I compare it to).

This analysis is assuming (1) that the kimbap making was supposed to be Chim’s live originally (2) he originally invited Tae to do the live with him (3) Tae refused (4) Chim wanted to do the live, but not alone (5) He asked Kook (6) Kook accepted, and they did the live together.

That’s a lot of assumptions to make for a logical analysis, but it’s seriously the vibe I got from Tae’s phone call.

Let’s look at the key points from the mandago live:

(1) Chim wanted to do Mandago (2) He wanted to do with Tae because it’s their thing (3) Tae didn’t want to come (4) Chim invited Kook instead (5) Kook came

After Kook joined the Mandago live, it didn’t take long before Tae joined as well. As stated in my analysis, you could make the argument that he wanted to eat as well (because they had food), but he ended up bringing his own food. He didn’t have to join the live to eat if he already had food on his own. I think he was upset because Chim was doing “mandago” without him. Even thought it ended up not really being a mandago live and more of Eat Jin.

Chim’s behavior in both lives really seems similar to me. So I sort of got the feeling that Tae was originally supposed to be part of the live but refused. Then when he saw that Chim was with Kook instead, he got upset. He called Chim, and Chim got upset. A “if you wanted to be in the live, why didn’t you just do it” sort of upset. Like, if Tae didn’t want to do the live with him, why is he calling during the live? Knowing they’re live? You get what I’m saying.

And, no. I’m not saying this is a Ji / kook vs vmin thing. And I’m not even trying to imply any sort of unhealthy level of jealousy here. I just think (if this theory is remotely correct) it shows how Chim is being real with us. He’s not just pulling our leg and saying that he wants to do a live with Tae but he really doesn’t and it’ll never happen. I think, again - if my theory is remotely correct, this shows how Tae doesn’t want to do a solo vmin live with Chim. Even if this theory is correct, it’s possible that Tae would have called regardless if Kook was there or not. Because, based on the theory, he was initially invited, but he didn’t want to be there in person. Alone. With Chim. For whatever reason.

Again, relating it to my theory, I think Tae either called because (1) If Kook was going to be there, he would have joined. Because that would have been a third person, keeping it from being him and Chim alone. So when he saw Kook there, he wanted to make himself part of it somehow. Or (2) He would have called even if it was just Chim because he’s more okay with talking on the phone than being there in person. 

I might do an actual analysis of the kimbap live, but we’ll see. It’s easier to talk about a theory here than to actually analyze because there’s not a lot to go off of without making assumptions.

related to this, anonymous asked:

Why do you think vmin won’t do a vlive together?

With some other saying that them not doing so makes it hard for us to see that they are really friends.

So, my idea on why they won’t do a vlive together is a little different than what I’ve read around. I think the reason it doesn’t happen is simply because they don’t want to, but not for any particular reason other than taking the time to do it. I’m going to explain.

We can make the argument that they are comfortable with each other and don’t want to have to be too careful. But I think that’s a copout for thinking a little deeper about it and making it more realistic. Yeah, it’s possible that they’ll have to watch themselves while they’re live, but what makes that different than any of the other members?

Ji / kook can have a live together, look into each other’s eyes, tease each other, and all kinds of things during vlive, so...why is the case different for them than with vmin? I don’t really think that them having to “watch it” has anything to do with them not doing a live together. It’s not like they’re really going to “forget about the camera” and accidentally make out or something. Even if they are in a relationship. They wouldn’t do that.

My honest belief, until I’m given reason to believe otherwise, is because they simply don’t want to. Vlives are often done from the studio or some other place where they work (if not hotel rooms). We don’t get random vlives of them living day-to-day life or going to Lotte World. So this means that most vlives we get are planned for work, or done during down time from work. But it’s always related to work somehow.

I really think that Tae and Chim are best friends and enjoy spending time with each other the same way any other friends do. When they are together, that’s their time, and they probably don’t want to share it with us. Because they share a lot of things with us, and I’m sure they have things (like their friendship or time together) that they want to keep for themselves. Despite Chim acting like the more private one, yet wanting to do a vlive with Tae, I think this is why Tae refuses. Because, although he doesn’t seem to be shy about expressing his love for Chim, he wants to keep their private time private as well. 

And that’s all I think it is. And, honestly, if that’s the case, we can relish in the fact that we don’t get vmin lives. Even if getting one would be nice. It’s nicer to know that they want to keep their private time private because their friendship is important to them and they don’t want to make it about us. And. Who knows? Maybe the mandago thing and the dumpling incident all have a part to play in this. Because maybe the publicity put on their friendship at the time is what caused those kinds of strains to happen. And to avoid something like that again, maybe that’s why they won’t go live.

But. I think it’s possible we’ll get one eventually. I haven’t given up yet.

anonymous said:

HI. I would just like to remind your readers about 2020 Festa: Unit Interview @12:31 VMIN was asked: What do you want to say to each other? Tae somehow refused to answer and just said: "WE ALWAYS SAY IT TO EACH OTHER." There's NO NEED to say what they feel for each other openly. No explanations whatsoever. As Chim said in Bon Voyage 2, not us, not even the members can fully understand what they feel about each other.

Remember what I said about no theory being good enough to be truth behind vmin? This anon gets it.

a mix of asks relates to

I don’t know why people keep saying Tae is sad or that vmin are fighting. They are fine. Nothing’s wrong.

I don’t know what’s more harmful. Assuming someone is sad all the time. Or assuming they’re fine all the time.

There are times when Tae is obviously down, and he shows it. I think he doesn’t try so hard to put on a fake happy face for us, and I think that’s wonderful. It’s okay not to be okay, and we really don’t have a lot of icons out there that let us know that. They may tweet and talk about mental health and the importance of it. But celebrities that actually show their mental status or even talk about their own level of happiness is far and few between. People think they’re happy all the time, and those that do say they’re not often get attacked because “why wouldn’t they be happy? They have fame, money, and everything?”

If you don’t see that Tae might be sad at a particular moment, or don’t think that vmin has a moment of tension, I guess that’s fine. But to say that it never happens is obviously false. Everyone gets sad sometimes, and everyone has tension with their closest friends.

That being said, those who go overboard and act like Tae is never happy or that vmin hate each other...yeah. That’s a bit much and needs to stop. Tae’s emotions are dynamic, and vmin love each other.

another mix of asks relates to

Do you think vmin are intentionally trying to friendzone themselves because they don’t want us to get suspicious? Or do you think they want us to know that they are only friends and shipping makes them uncomfortable?

Friendzone what? Like. What?

Regardless of what Tae and Chim are together, they are still best friends. The one thing that we confirm about their relationship is indeed that.

I really don’t think they ever say “he’s my best friend” in a “no-homo” kind of way, and that’s sort of what both scenarios presume. Two men can call each other “best friends” without having an implied “no-homo” label onto it.

And let me talk about this “no-homo” thing, okay? I’m not sure how many lgbt people are asking this question, but from my own lgbt perspective “no-homo” was always a little offensive to me. Like, why can’t you just give your bro a hug? Or why can’t you just say “I love you” to a friend? Are we really to the point where people have to say “no-homo” because they don’t want to give someone the wrong idea?

Honestly, my best straight male friend hugs me and tells me he loves me all the time, and he sometimes says “no-hetero” when he does it. And I love him to bits and pieces in a completely no-hetero kind of way because he started the joke because he realized how offensive the other statement was. At least, how much it bothered me regardless of how any other lgbt people felt about it.

Anyway. My point is, regardless of what kind of relationship vmin have together, I’m sure they say “he’s my best friend” because they are best friends. Regardless of any other labels they could have, they are best friends, and that’s what they want to let us know. I don’t think it has anything to do with dumbass “friendzoning” or “no-homo” shit. I don’t think they have some ulterior motive by simply stating that they are best friends.

And. Honestly. I if I asked my sister who her best friend is? She’d say her husband (or me lmao). If I asked my best friend who her best friend is? She’d say her husband (or me lmao). If I asked my straight male best friend? He’d say his wife (or me lmao). So. Again. My point is. Your significant other can be your best friend, and referring to them as such doesn’t mean you are friendzoning them.

It doesn’t mean that vmin is a real couple. It doesn’t mean that they’re not a real couple. It just means that, if they are, they’re obviously not going around introducing each other or talking about each other as boyfriends.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a violinist and Peter Parker falling for you

Peter Parker x reader

warnings:

a/n: ahhhh anon 🥺🥺 you are the SWEETEST person on this earth omg thank youuu

prompt: anonymous: “Darling sunshine, beautiful moonlight, I come to you on the self indulgence train. The opening of your request box has my heart leaping and I simply MUST have another chance to request your skills. With this I’d like to ask for headcanons of Peter Parker falling in love with a violinist! reader. In the rules it says that unnecessary reader tags shouldn’t be requested, so I hope that this is alright. (I just want someone to listen to me play at concerts hahaha) Thanks for the love in this blog ♥️”

okay, so peter and you met by chance

just kidding, you were talking to his marching band mates and he tried to impress you with his clarinet knowledge

“you know, i don’t play anymore, but i could make an exception”

*giggling* “maybe we could play something together, you never know”

“woah, what instrument do you play?”

“violin!”

after figuring out that the two of you kind of had something in common, the two of you befriended each other

it was cute the way he acted around you

he’d bring you little gifts like stickers and stuff to put on your case (if you wanted to, of course) oh, and snacks i suppose!

“what’s this?”

“it’s uh—a spider-man sticker? i thought you’d like it”

“i do! thank you, peter”

he like, was unable to function when you hugged him

ned and mj subtly tease him about it

flash goes above and beyond to tease him, though

*on livestream* “look at parker! dude, just ask them out already before i do”

then the stream suddenly stops bc mj ✨has her friends’ backs✨

peter has gone to your house a few times to watch you practice!

he gives you input, it’s always good (even if you mess up a lil bit, he always made you feel better)

“and the crowd goes wild!!!” *cue applause*

you’d take a bow and humbly accept his appreciation

thing is, you didn’t invite just anyone to your concerts

“peter, peter, pumpkin eater, i got you tickets to my next concert if you dare?”

“wait. what did you just call me?”

“shhhhhh just take the tickets”

he tried his best to hide the fact that he was geeking out over your personal invite

especially since you gave them to him in an envelope with a heart drawn on it

ofc he DASHED to see aunt may

“what’s the rush, hun?”

“y/n invited me to their concert! look, this is how they invited me. i think they like me back!”

“that’s awesome! we better send you in with a bouquet to toss on stage when the show’s over”

“people do that?”

“uh, yeah! for sure!”

“...please come with me”

duh of course she came with

supporting her nephew’s future s/o!!!

*whispering* “which one is y/n?” -may

“the one waving at us”

you were waving you were super excited to see them show up for you

like seriously, he was definitely boyfriend material

may waved back it was super wholesome

the show began and it was your time to shine (well, with others. you were a team player)

that was UNTIL you got to your SOLO

“they gave a solo?! gosh, peter, you’d better step it up”

“shhhh, no talking!”

you played your heart out since there were people there for you in the audience

you hoped that peter would come to more of these

may could practically see the hearts in his eyes

okay, okay, here comes the standing ovation

you kept your eyes on peter as he clapped louder than anyone else

*throws bouquet of flowers with perfect precision bc he may or may not be spiderman*

yes, he could have just handed it to you afterwards, but what about the perfect throw???

“i think it’s safe to say that you two are basically dating”

“may! cut it outttt!”

you made sure to meet him RIGHT after

“sooo? what’d you think?”

“y/n, you did amazing! oh, by the way, this is my aunt may”

he let you meet his aunt !!! big day !!!

he took you out to dinner at a nearby diner (pizza place) to celebrate the big day

it was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for you

“so when’s your next concert?”

“in the spring, actually? why, you interested?”

“yes! i can’t wait to see you play again”

“well, maybe i can give you another private show...”

the rest of the night was spent joking around and just talking like friends who like each other do

until he final decided that this would just be a perfect time to make a move

“hey, you know, maybe we should go on a date sometime?”

“well, what do you call this?”

“...woah. you’re right...okay, well. um, awkward. i wanted to tell you that i kind of have feelings for you. i have for a while pleasedontfreakout”

“yeah, me too, pete! flash has actually been taking bets on when you were going to fess up”

“are you serious?”

“i might be”

okay he had to admit that was a little funny

after a while longer, the two of you had finally gotten back to your feelings and peter FINALLY asked you to be his s/o

you obviously said yes yes and yes because you’ve been crushing on him since day one

you sent him home with a kiss that he would never ever ever forget

“i dont even wanna wash my face tonight after that”

“gross, pete! dont worry, there’s more where that came from”

(he carries your case or your backpack wherever you go now. he insists)

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich //

[coloraturadiva]

A mistake - Chapter 3

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x F!Reader (You)

Summary:  Napoleon realises he had made a mistake

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Warnings: angst, fluff, pregnancy (I’m sure I forgot something...)

Word Count: 2692

A/N: a special thank you to my lovely beta @iloveyouyen ! This is the third and last chapter of this story, I hope you’ll like it 😉

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

Feedback, reblogs and constructive criticism are appreciated!

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome!

Tagging some people that never asked for it and others that actually did: @iloveyouyen @littlefreya @aletheladyinred @madbaddic7ed @promptandpros @mrsaugustwalker @jencanbeyouryengeralt @radaofrivia @henrythickcavill @ladyreapermc @mary-ann84 @onlyhenrys @qualitynightkoala @eefjedegraaf @summersong69 @minillamakeup-blog @trippedmetaldetector @maan24​  @bichibibi​  @rn7rocks​ 

Knock knock

“What are you doing here?”

There he was. You had heard no words from him for the past 2 weeks. As he said, he came to the house the day after he left to collect his things when you were at work and left his keys in the mailbox.

Now he stood on your doorstep looking like he was the one suffering from morning sickness. He was looking terrible, not his usual spit and polish self. Pale, his lips dehydrated, the eyes dull and puffy, the hair messy: he looked like he had aged 20 years in 14 days.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course” you felt unsure about his intentions, but you let him in nevertheless . “This is still your house anyway”. You didn't hear a word from him or his lawyer. You had expected a phone call or even papers delivered to you in a couple of days, but nothing happened, and you thought that he had been whisked away on a mission before having the time to arrange the situation with a lawyer.

“What do you want?” you asked him, not daring to look at him in the eye, fearing you'd burst out crying. You had cried so much during the past weeks that you thought you had no more tears in you, but his sudden appearance made you feel teary all over again.

“I left two very important things there” he answered in a soft, but raspy tone. Even his voice didn't sound like it used to be.

“Really?” you tried to sound polite, even if a million of different emotions were raging in your head: anger, fear, sorrow, loneliness, the urge to kiss him one last time... “What? I haven't seen anything...”

“My wife and my baby”.

“What?” your head span. You didn't trust your legs and went to sit on the closest seat you could find: an armchair in the parlour.

He followed you, terrified. His face turned even paler than before.

“What happened? Are you unwell?” he kneeled in front of you, his voice trembled with worry.

Your head snapped up. You looked at him in the eye for a second and... slapped him. You slapped him with all the force you had in your body. Maybe slapping a CIA agent wasn't the best idea for your safety, but you couldn't help yourself. He had to steady himself on the nearby sofa not to fall.

“YOU IDIOT! You come here out of nowhere after having left your PREGNANT wife and you even have the courage to ask me what happened and if I am unwell?! Of course I'm unwell, you broke my heart!” you were flushed, your breath laboured.

He looked at you wide eyed.

“I'm so sorry...” he began in a pleading tone, looking at his hands: he was still wearing his wedding band. Like you. “I panicked. I fucked it all up big time. I know I don't deserve to ask for anything and I'll understand if you won't get me back, but I had to try. I couldn't let go of everything we have built this way. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I hadn't tried to get you back.”

“You did, all with your hands” you retorted bitterly.

“I know. And I'm the most stupid and undeserving man in the world. But I'm madly in love with you and I can't let you go for any reason.”

“Except an unwanted child” you bashed him.

He bowed his head.

“I... I wasn't expecting it. Coming home and seeing you with a bump...”

“No, you never wanted it, it's not the surprise factor. That would have caused you to stay speechless, to panic for ten minutes, to say something stupid, not to leave me in less than two minutes, without giving me the opportunity to explain, with those bitter words.”

“Bitter words?” he asked lost.

“I knew a baby would have come to separate us. That's what you said. It's not the baby's fault! How can it be? It's your fault! You went away treating me like a broken object, without even looking at me. Not even an animal deserves to be treated that way! And you started to talk about divorce papers in less than three seconds after having realised I was pregnant. That broke my heart, you know that? That physically broke my heart! That evening I thought I was gonna die right on the floor, where you had left me! And why did you do that? Because things weren’t going like you wanted, because I displeased you! How awful! And it happened ONCE. Once in all the years we have been together! Well, sorry, but I was not born with the sole purpose to please your cravings and your ego, I’m human too and I have my interests and my wishes as well. You always knew, from the very start, that I wanted to build a family with you, but you were so obsessively against the idea of having kids that I renounced my own wishes because I wanted to be with you. I’m sure you believe that I did get pregnant on purpose, but I didn’t do it, I swear. I was as surprised as you when I found out. I’m not the one that goes behind other people's backs, you are... So you wanted to punish me for something that’s not my fault, or, at least, is your fault as well. Of course! You are the important one here, while I’m the stupid, lovesick woman that offended you by getting pregnant, but I’ll never feel sorry about loving my baby! You can’t throw away people like a broken toy because things aren’t going like you have planned. I won’t accept it.”

He felt ashamed of himself like he never felt in his whole life. Stealing, the black market, spying, that was nothing compared to what he had done to you without even realizing.

“And you know what's the worst part of it?” you continued. “That I loved you. I kept on loving you anyway. Even if you had treated me so bad, I couldn't bring myself to hate you. Hating you would have made everything easy, but it was impossible. When I arrived home after work the day after you left, I hoped to find you there, or at least that you hadn't come to take away your things. That would have meant that you were in doubt, that you were still thinking about it. But when I arrived home, I saw that all was gone. Your wardrobe was empty, your drawers were empty, your library was empty, even the comforting smell of you was gone from this house. My heart broke yet again. It was really the end...”

You started sobbing, all the emotions of the past weeks washed over you at once. You felt overwhelmed.

"Do you want to know why I left?" he asked looking at the floor after having taken a deep breath. "Because I'm scared…"

"Oh, don't tell me!" you answered sarcastically. "The hero, the great secret agent is scared of a baby! Please, I'm not that stupid…"

"I'm not scared OF a baby." He whispered. "I'm scared FOR the baby. And for you".

"What?" you asked not getting his point. What was to be scared about? Women get pregnant and babies are born everyday. It's normal, it's natural.

"I… I've always been worried about your safety…" he hesitated. "You know who I am, you know what I have done, you know what I do… I can't control everything, I can't be here to protect you all the time. I'm constantly worried that one day someone could decide to seek revenge against me by hurting you. It's something that has been burning me from the inside since the very first time I saw you. I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. You don't deserve it, it's not right. I've done my fair share of bad things, but you are innocent, you shouldn't be in this mess… But you are right, I'm an egoist. Even if I wanted you to be safe, I loved you too much, I wanted you to be mine… Even if it was a risk for you… That's why I never wanted a baby. Thinking of you being in danger is already a big hardship for me, but a baby… That's too much. That's not a life for a baby. I know very well how it hurts you having me to stay away on missions all that time, not knowing if I'll come back all in one piece. That's wrong. A baby and a young mother shouldn't be living like that… That's why I panicked, that's why I left. I thought that with me gone, maybe you could have been safe, you could have built a new and better life for the two of you. Maybe with a better man… That’s it. I panicked and in my head, going away was a way to protect you..." he paused for long minutes, playing nervously with his wedding ring. "What can I do to make amends?” he begged. “Please, tell me.”

You kept on crying. You had no idea. You loved him, but he had hurt you so much you didn't know what you really wanted.

He was devastated. Seeing you crying, so trembling and fragile and all because of him made him feel physically sick.

He didn't think too much about it, or at the consequences: he went to sit on the armrest of the armchair and took you into his arms. He didn't move, he didn't caress you, he just held you still.

At first you were stiff, unsure about the unexpected contact, but soon enough you melted in his arms. It felt so good to be back where you felt you belonged after such a long time. You were unsure if you could ever forgive him, but you also knew that you couldn't live without him.

“What made you change your mind?” you suddenly asked in a whisper. “Why did you come here today?”

“You. Both of you.” He hesitated, his voice trembled. He sounded deeply emotional. “I mean, I love you. It's you, it's our baby. I don't want you to be with another man… I want to see our baby grow… I know it's a risk and I don’t know if I can protect you, but at least I want to try. I can't let you go… "

“Our baby” you sobbed.

“Yes, of course you were right. Like you are always right. It takes two to make a baby. I can't blame everything on you. I'm sure I did my part… I’m just a scared idiot, but I love you. It only took me too long to realise how much I love you and how important you and the baby are for me. More important than my fears.”

“The baby as well?”

“Yes, the baby as well. I love both of you so much”.

You sighed. He sounded like he meant his words. He sounded like himself again. A tired Napoleon, but your Napoleon.

“I... Your... Your grandmother visited me.”

“My grandmother? How? I don't know where you are staying now. How does she?”

“She probably has been a secret agent for all her life and never told a soul. I can't find a different explanation” he smiled. “Her methods are also quite... effective. I was there, tormenting myself to decide when was the best moment to come to you, if today was too soon, or already too late, when she knocked on my door, stormed in and gave me a lecture. She talked for 15 minutes straight, I think. She didn't let me say a word. And she beat me with her walking stick.”

“WHAT?”

“I told you her methods are effective. I said something that displeased her, and she wanted to make it clear.”

“You probably deserved it...”

“Indeed. I deserved that and your slap too.”

“You had already decided to come back before her visit?” you changed the subject.

“Yes. Two days after I left you, when I found myself with all my things in a house that wasn't ours and without you and having left you alone, I realised that I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“That was nearly two weeks ago...”

“I know, but I didn't have the courage to come, I had no idea what to say...”

“And waiting made a difference?”

“Yes, because the more the days passed, the more I was sure that I missed you and that leaving you alone wasn’t the best way to keep you and the baby safe. I realised that I made a big mistake. Not being with you was a mistake… By leaving you I was only hurting you, not protecting you...”

You both fell silent. One secretly praying to not have ruined it all with his own hands, the other reflecting on her feelings, trying to understand if forgiveness was an option.

“Could you ever forgive me?” he asked tentatively after several minutes, still holding you in his arms.

“No.”

He froze. He felt like he had been slapped again. But more forcefully, this time.

“I already did. The moment I let you in, I had already subconsciously forgiven you. I love you too much to live without you, I want to have you there with me. And you came back to me...” you sighed. “You know I can't stay mad at you for too long...” you softly smiled.

“Even after what I did?” he still didn't dare to look you in the eye.

“Even after what you did... I would like to believe that I'm doing it for the baby's sake, but the truth is that I'm doing it for myself. I'm terribly greedy when it comes to you.”

He dared to kiss you on the top of your head. You didn't resist.

It felt so good. It felt simply right.

You suddenly disentangled from his arms and got up from the armchair. You started to walk away.

Napoleon was startled. What was happening? Why did you start to move so suddenly? The kiss was too much?

“Come with me”. He heard your voice from the corridor and bolted in your direction.

He caught up with you in the guest room.

You turned to face him, standing close to a big box.

"Yesterday I saw this crib in a shop and even if it's a bit early, I had to buy it. But I'll need your help to put it together" you smiled weakly.

Napoleon looked at the big box. It was white, decorated with cute pastel green Teddy bears. He always had a penchant for beautiful (and expensive) things, he was an expert in art and antiquities anyway, and was used to treating himself with ridiculously expensive clothes, but had never paid attention to these kinds of things, thinking they would never interest him. However, right now that box looked to him as magnificent as a Raffaello painting.

He neared you gingerly, afraid of doing something wrong.

"Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to put this crib together  with you. And all the rest of the things for the baby. And us. I want us to be together...” you trailed off.

“I miss you”.

“I miss you too.”

You looked down at your growing belly.

“Come here” you threw your arms around his neck. One of Napoleon's hands went instinctively to your belly. You looked carefully at his face. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but was trying hard not to break apart in front of you.

“How are you?” he sounded suddenly concerned about your health. “How do you feel?”

You cupped his cheek.

“I'm good now” you smiled at him.

“I'm sorry. For everything” he uttered, deep affliction clearly ringing in his voice. "You'll be safe. Both of you. I promise…"

“I know” you answered softly. “Let's forget about the past weeks, shall we? Let's start anew from today.”

“I love you Y/N”.

“I love you Napoleon”.

Thanks to everyone who read my story and made it to the end! 😘

[becomewings]

Kindred : Loss

pt.3

“I smoothed down the piano keys with my fingers, dust covering my fingertips. I pressed the keys more strongly, but I couldn’t make them sound like YoonGi did. It’d been two weeks since YoonGi stopped coming to school. … I pressed the keys and tried to mimic the tune he’d played that day. Will he really be expelled? Will he ever come back? He said he was used to being hit and kicked by teachers. If I weren’t there, would he still have turned against the teacher? If I weren’t there, would he still be playing the piano here?”

— JungKook, 25 June Year 20. The Notes 1.

꩜

“‘If you’re going to run away again, don’t ever come back.’ HoSeok’s voice rang in my ears. … ‘Why didn’t you go see JungKook? Don’t you know what you mean to him?’ Of course I knew. Maybe that was why I couldn’t go into his room. I was distorted and thorny. Anyone who tried to come near me was bound to get hurt. … I’d inflicted pain on others as I suffered greater pain. I looked away from their wounds. I didn’t want to take any responsibility. I didn’t want to get involved. That was who I was.”

— YoonGi, 25 July Year 22. The Notes 1.

pt.1 : JM/JH ꩜ pt.2 : TH/NJ

→ Kindred : Comfort

Commentary under the cut.

This concludes the Kindred series’ Loss subset, a companion and inversion of the Comfort subset. I’ve actually had the general idea for these two contrasting sets since the very beginning of the blog, and I even made a first pass at the Comfort posts with still images. But I held off on Loss until I had the tools to make gifs because I knew there were many moments that could not be captured as effectively with screenshots alone. I felt this way about Rift, too, a set that serves as a kind of bridge between Comfort and Loss.

Comfort focused on the companionship between the “main pairs” of BU characters and was straightforward to depict: I highlighted shots that featured both members of each pair. My initial plan for Loss was less clear cut. After gathering some preliminary images, I realized that the best way to capture the feeling of absence was to use only solo shots, in direct contrast to Comfort. While experimenting with different arrangements, it also occurred to me that their separation could be further emphasized by assigning each character to their own column, rather than allowing them to intermingle.

For a moment, this posed a dilemma to me: when organizing sets, I try to pay attention to the overall composition, not just in terms of narrative progression and color but also direction. You may be familiar with the idea that even still art contains a sense of motion—the natural path our eyes follow when observing a piece. Very generally speaking, strong compositions draw the gaze inward. On the other hand, they may be weakened if certain lines or gestures pull the gaze too far outward, essentially “falling off” the artwork. When planning, I treat the whole gifset as a kind of canvas. I try not to arrange gifs with very directional motion in places that would draw the viewer’s attention away from the rest. But this was a problem I immediately faced when I decided to divide the characters into strict columns. For example, I would not normally choose to place that second gif of YoonGi reaching across the bed on the right side of the set because the motion is also toward the right. If it helps, think of an arrow pointing: →

Ultimately, I decided to stick with the columns and accept the consequences. I was reassured by the thought that, in the context of these Loss sets, the motion of the characters directed away from each other (← → : such as in gifs 3 and 4 here  or the last 2 gifs of the TaeHyung/NamJoon set) was just as meaningful as one character “reaching” inward toward the other (for a quite literal example, see JiMin reaching toward the empty hospital bed in the JiMin/HoSeok set). In their times of separation, the characters turn away from each other just as often as they look back, finding a void in their external lives as well as within their hearts. My exception for the “solo shot” goal was also, very deliberately, the inclusion of at least one girl from each pair (or the girl, in the case of JiMin/HoSeok) because the presence of each girl reinforces the absence of each boy’s closest friend. But more on that in a future post!

This was kind of an untraditional commentary compared to the rest, but I wanted to do a little retrospective on my process for the Comfort and Loss miniseries. I put a lot of thought into arranging the sets, just as I do with choosing which clips and quotes to bring together, so I hope that this may help you find a little more meaning in my posts. :)

This is not the end yet for the Kindred series. There are some other key relationships that I would like to look at under this “kindred” umbrella in the future. Thank you for joining me on the journey so far through the main BU pairings! ♡

꩜

Wings Short Film #1 Begin I Need U (Original Ver.) Run Run (Japanese Ver.) I Need U (Japanese Ver.) Wings Short Film #4 First Love Love Yourself Highlight Reel '起承轉結' Fake Love (Extended Ver.)

[your-highnessmarvel]

No Pressure

Requested by Anonymous: You blog is amazing!! Chris x reader idea: they meet at a party, Chris is into reader, they flirt and joke around. He’s like wow, she’s amazing. Anyway they leave the party together and he takes her back to his hotel, he thinks she’s ready to fuck, but reader is a innocent shy girl and fan and she has a slight panic attack because she didn’t mean to give him that idea. Chris profusely apologizes and it makes him like her even more, he’s use to women ready for anything. Fluff, angst & smut 😊🤗😍

AN: LMAOOOOOO god this was a wild ride. Also, i will be updating more tomorrow night after i get my lashes done. AND THEN FRIDAY, i will be able to update SO MUCH because i have no work :) and the snow storm will have passed.

Warnings: none

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

Request Guidelines

MASTERLIST

The party was lit, no doubt. Someone had knocked off the chandelier, and there was booze sticking onto the polished tiles of the kitchen. There was a guy you didn’t know who was walking around with gum under his shoe. You swore you saw someone’s tit coming out the bathroom. There was an abandoned beer pong game in the living room. 

Who’s place was this already?

“I’m going to head out,” your friend said, titillating on her heels. “I met this guy. Look, that’s him.” Wow, she was drunk.

You turned to where she was pointing, and sure enough, there was Anthony Mackie waiting for her like a stallion. Hands in his pocket. Drunken look in his eyes. 

“Wow,” you said with a big smile. “You go get yourself some, honey. Do make sure to send me your location so I know you haven’t been chopped and quartered.” 

She swayed. “I’ll be dead in some other way.” She wiggled her fingers before your eyes. 

You laughed, pushing her towards Mackie. “Oookay,” you chuckled. You pointed at the man waiting to take your friend to poundtown. “Don’t you dare leave my friend unsatisfied, Mackie!”

He pointed back. “Behave, Y/L/N!”

You watched them stumble out of the door, the music booming dimly behind you. You rolled your eyes when your friend pinched one of Mackie’s butt cheeks. You’d seen enough. Turning, intent on grabbing another drink, you were met by someone’s very stern chest. 

“That’s a sturdy chest,” you mumbled. Yeah, you had some drinks in you. 

A laugh rumbled out from that chest, and then a finger pressed under your chin. Your eyes went from the woolen covered chest to a pair of cerulean blue eyes. Damn, they were sturdier than that chest.

You gulped. “Blue eyes.”

“Yeah.” He laughed, poking your nose. He held a red solo cup to his sternum. Light brown hair was a mess behind his ears. A beard that was a mix between brown and russet adorning his strong jaw. “I was going to ask you if your friend is a serial killer, but I assume you did the same for her?” His eyes scrunched in such a cute way. 

Your mouth parted because - shit - this guy was really hot. 

“Y-yeah well, she’s not, she’s actually a stunt coordinator and oh my God, you’re Chris Evans.”

His mouth split into a shit eating grin and those eyes crinkled at the sides. “Observant.”

“Idiot.”

“So, who do you know here who knows girls like you?” he asked, shoulders swinging from front to back. Nervous? Flirting?

“My friend,” you answered, pointing back with your thumb. 

Chris nodded. “If I knew stunt coordinators hung out with girls that look like you, I’d come to these kinds of parties more often.” His eye dropped in a wink. 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh please,” you huffed. “That’s not going to work on me.” You made to brush past him. Maybe to get a drink. Maybe to go throw up, who knows. 

But his hand shot up and wrapped gingerly around your bicep. Stopping, you took a second to admire just how easily every single one of his fingers wrapped completely around your arm. Damn, okay. 

“What is then?” His voice was gruff, right next to your ear, and you don’t know how and you don’t know when this was decided, but you were suddenly stumbling into his hotel room, struggling with your shirt and his mouth on yours. 

He smelled of booze and cologne and something uniquely his. Mouth was plump and warm, chapped as he struggled with keeping his lips on yours while ripping the shirt from his body. 

His hands were everywhere. On your breasts. Sliding down the curve of your waist. Smoothing the planes of your warm cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck. Cupping your ass.

And all at once, it became too much. As much as you melted against his hard, chiseled chest, and as much as you absolutely loved the shape of his biceps, it was all too much. Too much too fast. And you couldn’t remember when you’d agreed to this. At the party? In the car on the way over? In the hall, stumbling along with him, laughing? When the door opened and you went in?

You ripped away from his embrace, a hand to your mouth. You stood there, breathless, staring at Chris’s widely open face. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted.

He frowned, cocking his head. 

“Shit,” you mumbled, covering your bra with your hands. “I - I didn’t mean to, um...” You searched for your shirt. There it was. Slipping it on, you realized it was Chris’s. “Fuck.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching for you and stopping you from taking the shirt off. He was smiling, hands slightly shaking in yours. “Hey...” he whispered, searching your eyes. He shook his head. 

“I know,” you mumbled. “I walked in knowing what was going to happen. I shouldn’t have - “

He kissed the tip of your nose to interrupt you. “Don’t apologize,” he whispered. “You’re allowed to change your mind. It’s totally okay.”

You sighed, heart beating erratically. “I just...”

He dragged you to the bed by the hand, motioning for you to sit. He took a seat beside you. “I’m not going to be mad or judge you for changing your mind,” he said with a smile. “You can even spend the night here. I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh, no, Chris, I can cab it.”

He snorted. “You’re going to cab it rather than sleep in this plushy bed?” He bumped you with his shoulder, which relieved the tension in your neck and you laughed. “Plus,” he whispered, eyes low, “you look really cute in my shirt.”

You blushed, cheeks heating and you leaned your forehead onto his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in. 

“Hey, did you know whale hearts weight 400 pounds?” he asked. 

“That’s a lot of love,” you giggled into his shoulder. 

“And apparently, it would taste really good.”

“Ew!” you laughed, and just because, you bit down onto his shoulder. The sound that came from his chest revived the heat in your cheeks and tingles between your legs. 

“You’re being a tease,” he grumbled, hand on your waist scrunching in the shirt. 

You pressed your lips on his shoulder. Your hand ventured onto his naked chest. Maybe... maybe all you needed was to take your time. To take control. 

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even move his hands. All he did was watch you, with those cerulean blue eyes, as you stripped from your pants and your panties. He admired the skin exposed to him, shining in the dim light of the hotel room. His brows pulled up, he didn’t even speak. He just watched as you climbed onto him, knees each side of his waist. 

His chin arched back, blue eyes meeting yours. His lips, pink and plump, parted and you slowly pressed yours against his. This time, slower and more intent, you could really feel him. The scratch of his beard on your chin. The warmth of his tongue against your lower lip. His big, warm hands sliding up your bare thighs. 

You grabbed onto his right wrist and guided his fingers to where your core throbbed and wanted him. 

He broke the kiss momentarily to ask you, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling, pushing his hand under the shirt. He brushed your clit with two fingers and you fell forward onto him, gripping his shoulder. He made a sound in his throat, deep and feral, as he rubbed a few slow circles on your clit. 

“Shit,” you breathed, trying to keep from grinding down on his hand. 

He reached up with his free hand to kiss you, taking you into a hard kiss.

You fumbled with his belt, feeling every inch of your skin ready to burst from pleasure, but you didn’t want to finish on his fingers. The clink of the belt resonated in the quiet room, scratching against your wrist as you all but ripped it open and attacked his zipper. He leaned back, breathless, watching you undress him. 

He was hot under his boxers, and oh so hard. You took him out of his boxers, listening to the soft sound that came from his lips as you touched him. 

You gave him a few slow pumps, watching his lashes flutter, his chest heaving. 

“Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?” he sighed. 

You moaned at his words, at the lustrous tone of voice. You got up on your knees, aligning him with your dripping core. He eyes went wide for a second, hands gripping your waist. 

You slide down on him slowly, taking the head into your warmth. You struggled moan left your lips and one of his hands shot to your hair, smoothing it away from your cheek. “Take your time,” he breathed, laboring against the instinct to buck up right into you. 

He was a lot of man to take in, but you were suddenly in a rush to have him buried to the hilt. Your walls quivered tight around him, sinking him in deeper, and by the time you were fully seated on him, there was a pinnacle in your belly.

He guided your hips as you adjusted on him, wiggling front and back, gripping his shoulders with your nails, clit rubbing against his pelvis. You rose on your knees and sank back down, moaning as the size of him stretched you out. 

“Shit, that’s tight,” he mumbled, bringing you down into a crushing kiss, tongue against your lower lip. 

You moaned his name, settling into a slow, sensuous rhythm. You rocked on him easily, slipping him in and out, sliding against your tight walls. He was sporadically bucking into you, pelvic bone pressing against your clit, driving you closer to the edge. 

One of his hand sneaked into your hair, pulling your head back so he could attack the flesh at your neck. The new angled, arched back, hips forward, made the pressure on your clit increase, driving you to impale yourself on him harder, faster. 

“Come on baby,” he breathed encouragingly, other hand on your waist bringing you down hard on his cock. “Cum all over this cock. Come on.”

The choice of words made a strange heat wash in your belly, bringing the edge oh so close. You clenched around him, rocking him into you. 

“Chris,” you moaned, the edge approaching with such ferocity it almost scared you. “Chris...”

“I know, baby, come on,” he breathed, kissing your neck, driving himself deeper into you using his grip on your waist. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You rocked onto him, grinding against his pelvis, your clit throbbing. The edge approached and the rubber band snapped. His name came out in tumbles, walls clenching so hard around him that he spewed hot ropes of cum all over your tight walls. He groaned against your throat, hand in your hair clenching so tight it hurt. 

Pleasure scuttled across your skin and you slumped onto him, feeling him breathing against you. He was coated in sweat, but he was warm and comfortable, and the orgasm you’d just had was still tingling on your nerves. 

“I’ll go get you a towel,” he whispered in your ear. 

You sighed, giggled, yelped when he maneuvered you so easily until you were lying on your back in the bed. He got up, tucking himself back into his boxers, and smiled down at you. His cheeks were red, hair muffled, eyes wild. 

He gave you a wink. “You look so hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Evans,” you whined. 

He leaned down over you, hands each side of your head, shoulders so wide they took all of your line of vision. He kissed the tip of your nose. “Don’t oh Evans me or else you’ll get a punishment after I was you up.”

Your eyebrow rose. “That’s no punishment if I like it.”

He bit the corner of his lips. “Oh, it’s on!”

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Never Gonna Lose You

Summary - Even with Chuck's danger hanging over the heads of the Winchesters and the Reader, preparations for Dean and Reader's wedding start in the bunker

Pairing - Dean x reader, Sam x reader (platonic)

Warning - Fluff, just pure tooth rotting fluff (yeah ik it's highly unlike me) and maybe a bit of swearing

Word Count - 1.5k

A/N - This is the sequel to Don't Wanna Lose You as requested by @miss-nerd95 (I finally wrote it)

This is the first time I have attempted to write a fic with a wedding ceremony in it so I hope it turns out okay. (Also if there is any rule wrong in the wedding ceremony, please let me know because I wrote the rules of the ceremony after I saw it on the internet and from movies).

Spn divider by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89 (if you can, check out her blog. She is so good)

"Hey! I came back to the bunker to find it empty. Where were you both?"

You were trying your best to stop the large smile that was threatening to spread on your face.

"We were uh..out", you gave Sam an innocent smile.

"Oh no. No I don't want to hear about my brother's sex life", Sam scrunched up his face in pure disgust.

"Get your mind out of the gutter Sammy because we have some news", Dean said with a stupid grin on his face.

"Please don't tell me Y/N's pregnant because I can't handle a mini Dean right now in the bunker", Sam said.

"What no! I am not pregnant-"

"We're getting married!" Dean declared proudly.

"What? That's great! Congratulations you guys", Sam literally ran towards you both and pulled you and his brother into a bone crushing hug.

"That's enough Sam", Dean groaned.

Sam let go of you both, "So when's the wedding? Where's the ring? Show me the ring".

"When did you become so girly Sammy?" Dean teased Sam which resulted in him getting a glare from the younger hunter.

"I'm just very excited for you both. Welcome to the Winchester family, Y/N. I am very happy for you Dean but Y/N not really, you could have done a lot better", Sam smirked.

"Ow", Sam yelped when his brother smacked his head.

"So when's the wedding? Did you tell Cas and Jack? Where will be the wedding?" Sam started to fire different questions at you.

"Hold your damn horses, Sammy. I don't know when's the-"

"We are getting married next week," Dean said, cutting you off mid-sentence which made your eyes go wide.

"Next week?" You exclaimed, "Dean are you crazy? We can't get married next week! There is so much to do! It's a goddamn wedding! Decorations, dress, catering - are you out of your mind, Dean Winchester?"

"We'll manage, sweetheart. It will be fine," Dean tried to assure when he saw you had already started panicking.

And damn did he make sure it was fine. The week went by a blink of an eye. With every passing day you were growing more anxious even though Dean did his best to make this the perfect wedding.

Growing up as a hunter, you never thought marriage was in your cards. You always thought that you would be long dead even before you meet the man of your dreams but it all changed when you met Dean.

Your meeting with Dean was out of pure luck. Your car had crashed into his when you were on a run from a monster. They immediately found out that you were hunting the same nest of vampire that they were. They were quite taken aback when you told them that you were a solo hunter.

Although as much as Dean was furious at first because you damaged his beloved Baby, you and him slowly became good friends. So when Sam invited you to live with them, you agreed without any second thoughts. Sam was like the younger brother you never had but Dean was another story. After several months of dancing around the fact that you both had feelings for each other and also because of Sam’s annoyance, Dean decided to ask you out.

Now, today as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, tears started to well up in your eyes. You never thought you would be able to see yourself like this - wearing a beautiful white gown as your would-be husband takes a stand at the altar, waiting for you to walk down the aisle.

“All done, sweetie,” Jody said as she put the final touches to your makeup and hair, “you look beautiful.”

You took a final look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes travelled south, eventually finding the beautiful engagement ring on your hand. Dean had given it to you on the same night he had asked you to marry him. The ring was perfectly kept in the pocket of one of his coats - he wanted to ask you for a long time but he always would chicken out at the last minute until that night. After he had put the ring on your finger, Dean had pulled you close, whispering “I love you” into your ear a thousand times. That night had ended with you and him in bed, entangled up with each other, panting and mumbling ‘I love you’s into each other's ears.

You smiled when you remembered the soft memory from that night.

“Jody, just don't let me fall while I walk down the aisle,” you said, standing up. Claire and Alex helped with the gown.

“Oh honey, I won't let you fall but if I do Dean will be there to catch you. That boy will always catch you before you hit the ground,” Jody said.

Jody Mills, you met her after you became a permanent resident of the bunker. She was a good friend of the Winchesters but she was more like a mother to you than a friend. She was there whenever you needed to talk. She supported you always so when Dean asked you about who will walk you down the aisle, you went straight to Jody’s house and asked her the question. She was surprised but eventually agreed, with tears in her eyes.

“We're ready,” Donna poked her head into the room and said.

Alex and Claire walked out of the room before you.

You linked your right arm with Jody’s, taking a deep breath, you tried to calm down your racing heart.

“Let's do this.”

You walked out of your dressing room and started to walk towards the garage where the wedding crremony was being held.

When you reached the garage you saw a carpet was spread out for you, with flowers sprinkled over it. You looked up and saw Claire and Alex standing on the side, Jack standing there with your wedding bands. The few guests you had invited - Bobby, Charlie, Rowena, Donna sitting at the front. You saw Sam standing beside Dean, he had a black tux on. He was looking right at you with a small smile on his face. Just beside him, stood Dean, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You started to tear up when you saw him. This was all you ever wanted - to spend the rest of your life with the man you love, your soulmate.

You walked towards Dean, Jody letting go of your arm. He extended his hand at you. You took his hand and stood beside him. You looked up at Dean, your eyes locking with his jade ones. His eyes were moist and you were yourself trying not to cry.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“Should we begin?” Cas asked. You had asked Cas to officiate your wedding because who would be better other than an angel?

You and Dean nodded.

Cas began the ceremony but you weren't paying attention to what he was saying. You were too mesmerised in Dean's eyes. You mind wandered off to all the times you had spent with Dean, hunting with each other or just spending a lazy day in bed with him.

You were broken from your thoughts when Cas asked if you wanted to say your own vows. You both nodded and Dean started to speak.

“Y/N, five years ago, when your car crashed into mine I didn't know then that I would be standing at here with you today. I love your coffee obsessed, nerdy self who is also a badass hunter who doesn't take any bullshit from others. Being with you brings the best out of me. I promise that I won't let anything happen to you ever even if I have to walk through fire to keep you safe. I promise I will never take you, us for granted. I promise to love you as you love me, through all hardship, darkness, and pain to reach for our joys, our hopes, and always with honesty and faith and lastly I promise to never make fun about how much you love the Harry Potter books.”

You wiped the tears that were now rolling down your cheek. “Y/N.” You heard Cas say your name and you started to speak.

“Dean, today when I woke up I had to catch my breath to believe this is real, that I am really marrying my true love, my heart's desire, my soulmate. I couldn't make myself believe that it was all real and not one of Chuck's plans, but after seeing you standing here, waiting for me, all my doubts flew out of the window. I promise to always love and cherish this relationship even when you are annoying me. I promise to always protect you and keep both of us from harm's way. I promise to always love and support you. I promise to always leave the last slice of my pizza for you and lastly I promise to not roll my eyes everytime you say a stupid movie reference.”

Tears were now flowing freely down your cheek. You didn't even bother to wipe them. You looked at Dean and saw him sniffling. His green eyes clouded with emotions. He mouthed “I love you”.

“It's time to bring in the rings,” Cas announced and

Jack walked in with the rings, “Y/N and Dean will now exchange rings to symbolize their commitment. Dean now you may take Y/N’s hand in yours and repeat these words after me.”

Dean repeated the words after Cas with a grin on his face, and took the ring from Jack, putting it on your finger.

“Y/N, please take Dean's hand and repeat these words.”

You repeated the words after Cas, with a smile playing on your lips. You smile got bigger when you took the ring from Jack and put it on Dean's. You and Dean said your I do's, your heart heavy with emotions.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dean you may kiss your bride now,” Cas said and for the first you noticed, he had a big smile on his face too.

Dean pulled you into a kiss, the first kiss as husband and wife. You immediately melted into the kiss. Cheers erupted throughout the garage but you didn't pay any attention to them. You were finally married to Dean, the love of your life and that was what mattered the most. Dean finally let go of you and looked at you with a stupid grin on his face.

“Hey Mr. Winchester,” you whispered.

“Hey Mrs. Winchester,” Dean said.

“We are married.”

“We are married, sweetheart,” Dean sighed.

“Now let's go save the world,” you smiled.

“Let's go save the world, together.”

Forever taglist - @donnaintx @devil-in-my-boots @amandamdiehl @miss-nerd95 @foxyjwls007

Dean/Jensen Taglist - @akshi8278 @mrsjenniferwinchester @jensengirl83 @defenderrosetyler