#I FOUND THIS IS MY DRAFTS HOLY SHIT??? PAST ME YOU OKAY THERE BOY

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

first, let me tell you something- i don't know how to write poems.

yeah. really.

'cause all everyone ever talks about is fucking sunsets and trees and water and death and you can pick em apart tryna figure out what they're really saying but-

i don't know how to write poems.

honestly, everything i say is just what i feel. when i say my anger burns like fire and claws at my bones i'm not being poetic.

i'm saying that because when i'm angry my bones ache, my hands shake, and my muscles feel like they're on fire. they're's no poetry in how i speak, you feel me? it's just how it is.

that's why whenever i try to write i poem i end up writing more of a conversation than of a poem.

i don't know how to explain any of it. i don't know how to write poems.

it's like- there's this chaos inside. and it's so loud, and i need to say something but i can't. i can't. i need someone to listen but nobody wants to hear the ill-worded speech of someone who's so emotionally blank it doesn't know how to fucking express it.

actually, i just stared at a wall for a few minutes, and someone who was made for this, made to make beautiful things, would probably say something, they'd spout some shit, and i wouldn't understand it but it would make me feel something, even if i can't fucking figure it out.

they'd probably say something about nature and chaos and the soul and love and

i don't know much about love.

i guess. maybe that's my problem. all the poets are so in love with the world. they see all the beauty in it, despite everything.

anyways, that's not really what i was made for. it's just- it's just so beautiful, and i guess i thought i could make something beautiful.

i'm not good at this shit. i mean- i haven't written even one poem without swearing in it.

and yeah, fuck the puritanical ideas that words can be tainted with an f-bomb but sometimes it's just-

fuck. i don't know.

see there? i'm trying so say something poetic but i can't. because i don't know what i want to say.

sometimes it's just like, damn, they have something amazing going on there. and they don't even need to say it directly, yknow?

they can turn feelings into words and put them on a page.

i can't fucking do that.

and this isn't just me being pessimistic, it's just how it is. how i am.

yeah, sometimes i don't think i was made to make pretty things.

the other week, i put together the whole plumbing system for the basement sink 'cause we're renovating and it's easy enough.

i told my uncle it was just like putting legos together. he seemed impressed. i didn't tell him it was too easy to require congratulation.

it's like - like i'm a wolf. except instead, they're forcing me to be a lapdog.

and it's - it's nice, i guess. i don't really mind it? but - it's not right. the real lapdogs are good at it. they're cute, they're comforting, they love it. i hate it. i don't. i don't know.

(hey look, i used a metaphor.)

it's just... off. look, i'm trying but it's off. i'm big and i have teeth and honestly i never really got the 'love' thing to begin with. i want to kill them all but i love them too. i haven't eaten something i killed in years.

let me put it this way - i practice my bass a lot. i'm pretty good too - but mostly because i practice when i think i'm gonna punch a fucking wall, which is pretty often if you're me. i can play really fast but people don't know that it's the adrenaline that gets me through it at first.

it's just that i'm not good at it. it's not a practice thing either, because i've been writing and talking my whole life, and you'd think that a decade and then some would be enough to at least be able to express myself but it's not.

and - i'm all over the place. what is this "poem" even about? because i don't know. i don't write to make it be beautiful - i don't create for any other reason that i need to say something and if i don't i'm gonna kill myself or someone else.

and that's not a metaphor. because i'm not a real poet. i do this because i have to, or someone is going to get hurt. i hate having to write poems.

i'm just blowing my brains out my head; it's not my fault it made a pretty fucking pattern.

maybe one day i'll see a beautiful sunset and then i'll feel something that'll make me rush to write it.

maybe one day i'll write a poem because i'm happy.

fuck, not to be depressing or some shit, but i don't think i've ever actually been anything other than angry.

it's all a ruse, you see? underneath the numbness there is apathy and below that is anger that burns so hot that i choke on it as it comes up my throat.

that's not a metaphor, either. that's just what it feels like.

so yeah, i'm a fraud. sorry. i'm not in love with anything. i don't hate anything either.

the problem is, i can't feel anything good. i can't feel happy and i can't feel that i'm in love and i can't feel hopeful.

fuck, i can't even feel scared because all i feel is that adrenaline rush every time i wake up. i don't know what it is.

so, judgement, yeah? i don't think i really have that. good calculations, good predictions, but not good judgement. there's a difference, even if they mean the same thing.

judgement is more emotional, i guess. exposing myself like this is weak. and maybe it's not, but it fucking feels weak.

i was shaking when i first wrote this. i couldn't feel anything but i was shaking. i'm not shaking right now. i guess i just don't care(?). i don't know how to name these feelings. i don't know how to feel these feelings.

sorry i let you all believe that i was actually, you know, creating. the truth is i'm alone and pissed and good at making people believe that i'm someone i'm not.

Did you make good judgment?

[mins-fins]

ANGEL EYES. — [L.MH] [PT. 1]

❝ sometimes, it feels as if mark lee is your guardian angel ❞

SYNOPSIS: innocent cherub eyes, gently soft hands, a heart of gold, mark lee is the golden boy whose experienced as much love as he gives back. his grades are high, his smile is wide, and his laughter is sweet. the only reason mark lee gets embroiled in a world of trouble is because of his pairing with the 'messed up foster kid' in a school project. it would be stupid to ever let himself get involved, but mark does anyway.

PAIRING: mark lee x male!reader

GENRE: mid–2000s au, high school au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, humor(?), slow burn, one sided pining to mutual pining, sadness as a romantic segway, relationship study, reader is a foster kid, mark pov, happy ending.. (i suppose)

WARNINGS: swearing, explicit language, violence, drug abuse, child abuse & neglect, family issues, mentions of death, smoking, homophobia, reader simply has the worst time and mark sobs about his circumstances, an awful amount of love that isn't realized to be love

WORD COUNT: 20.8k

NOTES: hey, hi, hello, its me isa mins-fins back with another BANGER 😍‼️ make sure to hit that subscribe button for more epic fanfiction 😋💥 okay but seriously, i've been writing this for almost TWO MONTHS (began in aug, first part wrapped up in nov) and its been a journey holy shit 😭😭 i dont remember why i randomly started this draft but i did and now its become this monstrosity, almost 21k words and were only halfway there, sorry, there's unfortunately more suffering awaiting, but dont worry, happy ending!! of course, user junjiie, i love you 💗, thank you for again listening to my unhinged rants about this thing and consuming all of the spoilers, you deserve love, and an endless supply of mark photocards 😊😊 as for everybody else who reads my stuff, thank you for sticking around despite the fact that i disappeared for about three weeks, please enjoy this mess 🤗

PREVIEW | NEXT

BEFORE IT WAS IN THE CRISP AUTUMN ATMOSPHERE, mark lee had met you at the local police station. it was only a few months prior, august of 2004 brought the prospect of donghyuck doing everything to try and get arrested, prospects that mark could only respond with under the breath swears. he loves donghyuck, he really does, but driving shouldn't have been his first choice. in all of the friendships mark has had with other people in his life, donghyuck has always brought a wave of chaos along with him, the exact opposite of who mark's mom would advise him to stay away from, but she'd always had a soft spot for him, mark can't exactly blame her.

fresh off turning seventeen and utterly clueless as to what the future would bring, mark only found himself at the police station for one reason. donghyuck had driven without a license. yep, sixteen years old and he assumed doing an illegal u-turn was the way to end his summer.

mark has always been a stand up kid. the kind who handed out his mom's cookies to the neighbors. the kind who called for stray cats in alleyways. the kind who was simply an innocent bystander to all the bullshit his friends would pull.

so when donghyuck called him from a jail phone, voice heightened in indignation as he begged for mark to come make a case for him, the older really had no choice but to do so. mark had never been to a police station before, afraid of catching sight of real criminals in the flesh by just walking past the building. he had watched too many scary stories, had terrible ideas of human beings planted in his head.

and even as a seventeen year old who had experienced life enough that such things shouldn't have terrified him anymore, there was still a small pit in his stomach as he rounded the corner in direction of the building.

"and how exactly am i supposed to bail you out?" an eyebrow raise accompanied mark's inquiry, and donghyuck scoffed as he shook his cuffed hands.

"you don't have to bail me out, my dad knows the sheriff, i'm just getting off with a warning" he whispered, sweat on his brow as he shared that familiar 'no shit' look with mark (an ironic expression really, he's the only one between the two of them that's been in cuffs).

mark snickered. "you talk so much when you're the one handcuffed".

"watch your mouth, you need me".

just as donghyuck was about to let out a swear in addition to his snappy response, said sheriff walked into the room, tight lipped smile painting his face. "don't try that again donghyuck, or next time you'll end up in a cell".

in a instant, donghyuck's blood ran cold, mark almost laughed at the sight, but he remained still, watching. the older man glanced up, catching mark's anxiety ridden eyes. "and you are?"

"this is mark, my best friend" donghyuck was quick to quip, a hand placed onto his shoulder.

mark's stomach dropped to his feet, it isn't as if he did anything wrong, it was simply on par for him to be severely anxious around law enforcement in general, he was just afraid he'd somehow get arrested for nothing at all.

"ohhh i remember you, i used to assume you two were brothers".

mark let out a breathy (and clearly faked) chuckle, trying to bury his anxiety. he could never explain it, even if you gave him all the words to, it's not like he's a bad kid, he just finds himself tensing often. "no, just friends.."

"it's good to have someone so close as support" he narrowed his eyes at donghyuck, who stifled his scoff at the clear sarcasm lacing his tone. he then scrunched his nose, watching as donghyuck placed a performative smile on his lips. "now you, sir, we need to have a talk".

donghyuck frowned, whining out complaints as he's dragged away by the sheriff. "can you wait, mark?"

mark blinked, shoving his hands into his pant pockets. he nodded, out of words. the two bantered back and forth like friends, something mark could only stare idly at. he made his way over to the seats beside the door, where, nestled in the corner of one of them, was you.

you were scribbling something into your notebook, unaware of the eyes on you. mark sat two chairs away from you, tapping his feet onto the floor as he heard the faint sounds of scoldings. safe driving, don't get into a car without a license, your future won't be any better if you continue this shit.

swearing at a child, mark found that rich. he glances beside him again, now watching you intently. you were engrossed in the manner your pen scratched against your paper, mark had figured out through endless staring that you hadn't been writing, but drawing.

you avoided his eyes for a while, ignorant to the eyes gazing you up and down. you then glanced in mark's direction, almost startling him out of his seat with the sudden stare. you blinked, puzzled out of your mind. "is there something on my face?"

mark tensed in his seat, feeling his stomach swirl, was he staring so much that you felt offended? he felt guilty immediately, his lips parting immediately and releasing a silent breath. "no.. no i'm sorry, i didn't mean to".

you shrugged your shoulders, one click to your pen. mark recognized you, but he simply couldn't conjure up an explanation as to why you were sitting in a police station at this time, drawing whatever into your notebook. "so why are you staring then?"

"i'm trying to figure out why you're here" mark muttered, fingers fiddling with his necklace as he tried to get his tone straight in fear of again offending you. "i'm sure you aren't committing crimes".

"i can say the same for you, mr golden boy".

mark's lips turned up slightly, his hands twitching from where they rested on his lips. "i got kicked out.. always come here to let dad and mom cool off for a few hours".

the words earned an eyebrow raise from mark, that was strange to hear, especially from another person in regards to their own parents. mark had never really experienced such a thing, the way you described it made his nose scrunch. "what?"

before you could respond to that one, a police officer entered the room, one you seemed to recognize by the way your eyes lit up. "come on l/n, time to go".

a frown settled onto your lips. "do i really have to go now? you know how my parents are.."

"i can't keep you here, it would technically be illegal".

"it's not like they'll care anyway.." you mumbled, slamming your notebook shut with yet another click to your pen. "just an hour longer, please?"

there was a sense of hope in your eyes, maybe he would actually take your words into account. mark simply stared, staggered by what he was witnessing. the officer watched the change of your expressions, your thumb playing at the button on your pen, continuously clicking over and over. as the clicks amplified, so did the sound of your labored breathing.

"you know i can't do that kid".

your frown deepened, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. worry, that's what mark remembered. your eyes widened, but not in the usual shock, simply in disappointment. you cursed under your breath, muttering something about your parents getting pissed at your reappearance. you stopped clicking your pen, letting the chagrin settle onto you. "yeah.."

you sucked your teeth, imitating the look of a sulky child. mark was consumed by his silence, completely confused by the situation. he didn't give a comment, simply watched the whole entire thing happen. "i'll give you a few minutes, don't worry".

you didn't respond to that one, your eyes following the police officer who strolled out the door towards his car. you bit into your lip again, hands grasping onto your notebook and thumb still pressing onto your pen. "what bullshit".

mark continued staring, his hands clutching at his thighs. you then glanced at him once more, causing for him to flinch back. you stayed silent, watching him as much as he did you a few minutes prior.

"are you alright?" he muttered, leaving his voice at a low volume. he didn't want to raise it, he wanted to keep it at a volume that kept you comfortable.

you snickered, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "fine, going home is just my worst nightmare".

mark's fingers found themselves sliding across his legs, teeth sliding against each other in back and forth motions. he blinked his big brown eyes, staring with an assured gaze he hoped would somehow make it's way to you. "i'm sorry".

he whispered those two words as if he was in physical pain, eyes watering for an inexplainable moment. he couldn't help it, and he had no idea why he couldn't help it. it was embarrassing how much he felt at the moment.

you stared back, lips pursuing. your expressions did at least seventy transformations, as if you were in disbelief at someone having empathy for you. you seemed distraught, why is he tearing up? that's so strange.

you chuckled, hoping it would quell his worries. "it's okay, not like it's your fault".

"still, you shouldn't have to feel that way about going home.. your parents shouldn't be kicking you out".

you grimaced, put off by the words. it isn't as if they were terrible, you just seemed.. astonished. why did he care? it was simply weird to you.

"well thank you for your concern but i'll be fine".

mark blinked away the tears threatening to escape his eyes, god what was wrong with him? why did he even tear up at that? he totally weirded you out.

"yeah um.. i'm sorry" mark bit into his inner cheek, letting out a heavy sigh. "just have a good day" a theatric smile placed itself on his lips, he was definitely trying to convince himself that it wasn't that bad of a situation.

you stared longer, seemingly itching to say something. there were words resting on the tip of your tongue, mark could practically sense it. "yeah, you too".

and when you stood up to walk out of the door, donghyuck coincidentally escaped the clutches of the sheriff, stumbling out of his office with his arms crossed over his chest. the door closed behind you, and mark watched the entire time.

"what took you so long?" mark uttered, eyes casting donghyuck's way.

the younger huffed in his usual donghyuck manner, hands on his hips. "he was giving me a big talk about safe driving" he placed heavy air quotes around the last two words, lips curled into a frown.

mark licked his teeth, his thoughts retracing back to you. "do you know him..?"

donghyuck blinked, his mouth opening to ask about who until he saw the way mark motioned his head. "y/n? oh yeah, he's around here all the time, the officers basically take him in whenever.."

"why?"

his voice scratched like sandpaper, donghyuck wincing at the tone. he then shrugged his shoulders, his attitude puzzled. "something about his parents not really caring, it's pretty shitty".

mark's lips parted in a freezing motion, his stomach pain only worsening. "that's scary.. feeling safer at the police station than your own home".

"i don't know much about his situation, just know his parents have a terrible temper".

mark swallowed the lump in his throat, his head beginning to pound at the information given. he tried to distract himself by thinking about school coming up soon, but he was snapped back into reality by donghyuck.

"why are you even asking me about y/n?"

mark glanced up at his childhood friend, a small whisper in his mind telling him to lie. "just curious that's all".

the lie laid bitter on his tongue, but he didn't allow for donghyuck to dwell on it, rising from the chair he practically glued himself to. "promise me you'll never illegally drive again, the officers here look like they wanna kill me".

donghyuck rolled his eyes, tease evident in his attitude. "okay markie, promise".

mark pushed his shoulder in retaliation.

that? that was two months ago.

before the crisp autumn weather drifted through the atmosphere, before the leaves began falling to decorate the ground in orange and brown hues, mark lee had met you at the local police station. your legs crossed, pen clicking, and nose buried into your notebook.

september came and went rather quickly, the scorching heat of the summer air transforming into the russet autumn scenery which drifts into october. the temperature steadily dropping, sweaters becoming more and more common in his closet, mark can't exactly focus in class during the first few months of school.

when mark hears his name fall from his teacher's lips in pair with yours, he snaps out of an episode of disassociation, blinking up. "what?"

his teacher deadpanned, readjusting her glasses. she doesn't even seem surprised by his lack of focus anymore, his exhaustion is constantly evident. "project partners mark, you'll be paired with y/n".

mark only parts his lips in response, the words rendering him speechless. he glances around the classroom as he listens to the older woman's voice blurs into the background, catching sight of you in the far back, again scribbling into your notebook, your manner reminiscent of how you acted the first time you two met.

he stares for a while before again looking forward, his mouth going dry as he tries again to focus, but of course, he can't. his mind stays focused on you throughout the whole class, even after the endless words he lets blur away.

you spin your pen between your fingers, it's the same pen you had that day, maybe you have some sort of attachment to it or something, maybe it's your favorite pen, maybe someone special gifted that pen to you.

maybe mark's letting it all get to his head, why is he even making assumptions when he hasn't walked up to you yet?

while everyone else rushes to leave the class, mark rises from his seat and again glances over at you, slinging his back over his shoulder.

you're riveted by what you're doing in your notebook, so absorbed that you barely hear the shuffling footsteps making their way around the many desks towards yours. your lips turn down as you smudge the ink on the page, a small suck of the teeth adding to your frustration.

"um.. hi" mark whispers, watching as you glance up and pause, one click to your pen. you don't respond immediately, studying mark for a while, and mark tenses up under your gaze, sucking a breath between his teeth.

"hi".

"we uh— were partners for the project".

your smile is neutral. "i know".

mark began biting the skin off his lips, hands gripping at his backpack. "i don't know where you want to start, uh.. maybe we could go to the library?"

he's just saying what he's hoping will work. he doesn't exactly know you yet, he assumes your one off interaction at the police station left a sour taste in your mouth.

but unbeknownst to mark's anxious inner voice, you smile, not exactly a neutral one this time, a much better smile ('better' in terms of expression, your lips stretch into an aspect of satisfaction).

"that'd be nice".

mark nods, almost too enthusiastically he thinks. how embarrassing. you let out a silent yawn, oblivious to the battle mark is having in his head. "tomorrow maybe we can start?"

your smile again becomes neutral, but at least mark doesn't think you want to kill him. "yeah, tomorrow is fine".

tomorrow. tomorrow is fine.

"okay, have a good day y/n".

mark rushes out of the classroom much too fast, he feels a little terrified of you. maybe you don't exactly want to kill him, maybe you just look at everyone else in that way, maybe it won't be that bad to be paired with you.

still, mark isn't sure why his mind tells him he should stay away from you.

THE NEXT DAY GOES AS USUAL, DAD AND MOM bicker at the breakfast table, leave kisses on mark's forehead before letting him go off. the heightened smell of pine was all that met mark's nose, his senses freaking out as he stepped into the cool october air. it's still eight in the morning, it shouldn't be this cold. just a month ago the sun was attempting to burn off his skin with it's murderous rays, and now it's obscured behind gray clouds. hopefully it doesn't rain, he forgot to bring an umbrella, and mom would kill him if he turned up at home with his clothes drenched. he assumes that he's gotten pretty good at predicting the weather, and judging by the pattern the clouds form in the sky, it won't rain today.

history is his last class of the day, and mark immediately found out that history is the only class you two share. donghyuck runs his mouth in his ear all day, something about junior year really being the one where you lose your identity, mutterings about drinking and partying falling from his lips.

his chin leans against his hand as he complains about jaemin not giving him homework answers, and mark releases a small sigh, drawing a small snort from his best friend. "you getting bored of me now?" he's quick to ask, aggressively shoving his shoulder against mark's.

mark grunts, nose scrunching as he sees the elation donghyuck shows. "you've been talking forever, do you not get tired?"

"someone has to entertain you".

"i'm not entertained, i'm annoyed".

donghyuck huffs, an eye roll being his response to mark's insult. he never lets it get to his head, donghyuck has always been the least sensitive between the two of them. his lips curl up into yet another smile of glee, overjoyed by mark's irritation.

"it's the seniority getting to you, grandpa".

mark shares an incredulous with him, scoffing as he grabs his bag from where he let it sit beside him. giggles spill from donghyuck's lips, his face red at the sight of mark's furrowed eyebrows. "not even a year older than you.."

"you're still old!"

donghyuck sings out the words in the way of a melodic tune, whistling in the air. mark again mutters something about not being old, and donghyuck sticks out his tongue. "see you later oldie".

mark's face scrunches, but he bid donghyuck a goodbye anyway. he's been a constant in his life, getting called old by an annoying sixteen year old isn't exactly the kind of thing that puts stress on his life, he'll be fine, there's definitely worse the world could throw at him, and lee donghyuck just barely scratches the surface.

after lunch, he has history for a double period. he usually disassociates through the first forty five minutes, his teacher is a nice woman, yes, but she takes so long to get to the point. he's read through the topics time and time again, he's simply relearning them to get the last few credits he needs to graduate.

he'll be done by the time the second semester rolls around, so that isn't much of a worry.

when he slides into his seat, he wants to crane his head back to look for you, but just as his head connects the dots, attendance begins, and he hears you mutter a small 'here' when the teacher calls your name.

"mark lee?"

he glances up, straightening his posture. "here" he replies, licking his lips.

the dragging of your pen against the paper of your notebook stops, mark knows it's yours because he listened to the same sound yesterday up close when he asked you about the library.

the first forty five minutes of class fly by, mark manages to keep himself from falling asleep while his teacher goes on about something he'd already learned about years prior.

then, she stops, the shuffling of desks are heard in the room, and his teacher sighs as she places her hands against her desk. "as i said yesterday, your project is about important historical events, you can use these next few minutes to brainstorm with your partners".

she then sighs with her hands clasped together. "no funny business" she scolds, her tone reminiscent of a mother angry at her children.

a click of the tongue sounds as mutters begin getting louder, mark's chest tightens as he glances around the room, watching everyone else get up to discussing with their partners.

of course, he has to go to you.

he stands from his place and drags a chair over to you, eyes squeezing shut at the sound it emanates. "sorry".

you instantly squint, a scrunch of your nose adding to your expression. "did you just apologize for.. nothing?"

mark swallows, his lips pursuing. he doesn't have a response for that, apologies falling from his lips are programmed into his speech. the way you asked makes him feel as if something is wrong with his manner of speaking, he isn't sure why he thinks about it in that way though.

"i don't know i.." his words drift off into nothing, there isn't a response to that one, because mark has no idea why he says what he does. "i'm sorry".

you respond with a chuckle, and mark's eyes miraculously widen. he just did it again, and it felt completely normal. one click to your pen. your lips stretch into yet another neutral smile, the prospect amusing you. "alright, what should our topic be?"

mark pauses, scratching his nails against the wooden table. his eyes drifts over to your notebook, and you close it upon catching his gaze. his lips press into a thin line, a breath in his teeth. "maybe the industrial revolution..?"

it's simply the first thing he could say at the moment, he wasn't exactly thinking. you blink, using a hum as your reply this time. you map out the several features on mark's face, his big brown eyes shine with anticipation, and it gets difficult to hide your smile.

"unless you wanna do something else" mark is quick to add, his words a small whisper. "i want to hear your suggestions".

he observes the act of your expressions changing, your eyebrows pinching together in a questioning manner. you don't seem to mind, he gathers. "it's alright, i would've said the bubonic plague or something but that's been dried up countless times i assume".

mark breaks into a small smile, relaxing against the chair. "okay, the industrial revolution it is" he whispers, hands clasped together. "do you still want to go to the library today or..?"

"i can't make it today".

your voice lowers exponentially, eyes casting to the side. mark gazes, as if attempting to read your inner most thoughts. you don't exactly make them clear, that's puzzling, mark almost wants to ask what the deal is, but he assumes you'd probably cuss him out if he did.

he presents his warmest smile to you. "it's okay, i can find sources for today, we can begin searching together tomorrow".

you don't nod, simply stare back. mark blinks, avoiding your eyes as he glances around the room. "i don't really want to put that all on you, i can still gather sources i just can't stay after school.."

mark is the one who nods, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "that's fine, you think you can stay tomorrow though?"

god mark feels like such an asshole asking that, he tries to keep his eyes everywhere but directly in front of him, because he's afraid of getting decked in the face.

but instead, you chuckle. "yeah tomorrow is fine, sorry for being so.. inconsistent".

mark then shakes his head, hoping the movements would reassure you in some way. "it's alright, thank you for telling me".

your lips stay pressed together, another small hum vibrating from you. you again run out of responses, so mark speaks up. "let's work well together, yeah?"

is that really the correct choice of words? think about it mark.

mark already thinks too much, if he thinks more, he might begin feeling tears stream down his cheeks. he doesn't want to seem.. jumpy, even if there are voices screaming at him with their pitches so high blood might start pouring out of his ears.

and finally, you nod, which gets a small smile out of mark.

MARK READS ON AND ON ABOUT THE INDUSTRIAL revolution until the words burn into his brain, until the sun goes down and his mom is casting him strange looks every time she walks past his open door. around the fifth time she did a lap, she paused as she watched mark flip through the many books scattered around his bed. "what is going on here?" she inquires, and mark glances up as he's midway through reading about british imperialism, a small smile on his lips. "this is for my project" he whispers, clear fatigue in his voice. she narrows her eyes, puzzled by the manner he's acting in.

"it's almost ten o'clock, mark".

ten isn't that late, he would usually muse, but there's a pointed look she sends him that leaves the words resting on the tip of his tongue. "okay, i'll go to sleep now.." he mutters, licking his lips.

she smiles softly, tapping her finger against his door. "sleep for real, mark, don't read all night".

"i don't read all night" he argues to the air. he knows that isn't true, he can't argue about it to his mom. he crosses his arms over his chest, imitating the stubborn front donghyuck always puts up.

she utters something akin to a 'sure' and gives one last look to mark before walking down the hallway. mark only casts one last glance in the direction of his door, then he picks up the books he littered across his bed to shove into his backpack.

he isn't exactly sure why he couldn't stop thinking about your neutral smile. mark has only interacted with you three times in two months, yet there's something there that keeps him grounded, his mind warns him of something, but you can't be terrible, you seem practically harmless.

mark isn't new to knowing people with somewhat shitty parents, but he feels as if there's something more there. mark really can't judge from a one off interaction he wasn't even involved in besides watching, how can he concoct something like this about you in his head when you barely talk to him as it is? he can't just make shit up before actually sitting down to get to know you.

he stares out his open window, the night breeze comes in with a rush reminiscent of ocean waves. he switches off his lights and stares up at the ceiling, hair splayed behind him as he waits for the exhaustion to take over.

he's bad news mark.

but what does mark know? this could just be his anxiety's biggest manifestations, he's making shit up. he's guessing based on the few interactions you two have had, and if he thinks further, it seems that you don't exactly enjoy his presence.

mark doesn't get much sleep that night.

that isn't as crazy as it should be, mom asks about it at breakfast the next morning, catching the dark circles under his eyes. he manages to utter an excuse about sounds outside or something, it was barely believed, she squinted at him with pure incredulity in her eyes, but he quickly scarfed down the remaining waffles on his plate and rushed to school, weighed down by his backpack containing thick books.

donghyuck made an awful lot of remarks about him accidentally killing someone with his backpack. he had the urge to purposefully swing it around to hit the younger with his backpack, but he kept such thoughts to himself, he could get revenge on donghyuck another time. maybe he'll hit him in the head with a metal pan again, who knows?

the lack of sleep exhibits itself in mark's barely functioning body as a whole. seven separate times during the day he almost dozed off during class, his teachers gave him the benefit of the doubt, him practically snoring on his desk was nothing new, he gets a pass because he's the kid with good grades.

by the time last period rolls around, mark forgets everything else that happened today. two hours of sleep usually don't do him this bad, but considering he'd been constantly getting over seven hours of sleep this week, two basically rendered him dead.

his hand slammed onto his desk a few too many times, he jolted up a few too many times. his eyes narrowed as he yawned again, doing his regular glance around the classroom. he counts each of the heads he catches, noticing some missing, but only a certain missing one is alerting.

you aren't here.

mark's lips turn downward, a weathering frown now overtaking his former exhaustion. mrs. lim took attendance thirty minutes ago, how did he miss you not responding to the call of your name? he narrows his eyes at your empty desk, feeling a pit form in his stomach.

where is he? his lips pursue as he looks forward, now unable to care about his fatigue when he was now consumed with confusion on where the hell you were.

did you just decide to go m.i.a for absolutely no reason? god what an asshole move. do you even know how difficult it is to do a project on your own?

mark doesn't let the anger fester for long, though, because it then becomes worry. maybe something happened, you told him you'd be able to stay today, did you just lie to him?

okay, so maybe his anger does fester a little bit, but he can't stay angry at really anyone for long (not even donghyuck, annoying guy 101). his fingers press uncomfortably onto the straps of his backpack as he makes his way over to the library, maybe you won't show up, but he still has to finish this project anyway.

he drops the books down with a resounding thud, immediately getting to jotting down notes after apologizing to the librarian. his head simply leaned downward, threatening to fall and crash against the table at any moment. he isn't sure how he remains awake, but he manages to keep himself up enough that he's able to write at least two pages of notes.

he's about to begin drooling, an embarrassing feat really, but he can't contain his weariness.

and just as he's about to pass out—

"are you good?"

mark jolts up straight away, a gasp of surprise leaving his lips as he takes in the words. when he whips his head back, he immediately frowns, it's you. he sucks a breath between his teeth, shoulders relaxing. "yeah yeah i'm just tired i.."

mark would've spit out some snarky interjection when his eyes drifted downward. then, in their usual fashion, they widened, and a grimace made it's way to his face.

a barrage red and purple decorate your knuckles, the skin between your fingers threatening to open. he barely holds back his wince, it looks painful, so painful. why the fuck are your knuckles split?

"are you alright?"

you deliver a snort. "is that the question you're always going to ask me?"

"oh my god! you're— your hands jesus what the hell even happened!?"

mark grabs your hands to get a closer look, your rough skin clashing against his in a burning manner. you promptly draw your hands away, as if in a protective stance, as if.. weirded out by the whole ordeal. "nothing, it's fine".

"it's fine?" mark parrots, sharing an incredulous look with you he normally wouldn't share with anyone. "your knuckles are one snap away from bleeding!"

your face twitches, and you bring a finger to your lips. "don't yell in a library, it isn't that serious".

"it isn't—" mark cuts his own speech off, closing his eyes to try and keep himself calm. "what happened?"

you mutter something unintelligible at first, fingers picking at the sides of your hands. "i just made someone mad.."

"you just made someone mad?"

you shrug your shoulders, startlingly mundane about the whole thing. mark stares, an intake of fear entering him. your face is flat, the only expression mark could make out was slight irritation, but not at him.. at least he hopes.

"you weren't in class today" he whispers, now quickly changing the subject as you drag the chair beside him back, settling onto it.

"i skipped" you speed through your response, grinding any of the pain you feel in your knuckles between your teeth. "looked like shit, mrs. lim would've had a heart attack if i walked into her room".

"you didn't think to go to the nurse or something?"

you narrow your eyes, tongue probing at the side of your cheek. "you ask so many questions, that has to be your thing".

mark sucks his teeth. "..sorry for worrying?"

you blink, a neutral smile spreading across your lips. "you're a weird guy".

there it is. there the word is. weird. you think mark is weird. is mark weird? if mark is weird, then what does that make you? is it weird that he has empathy for others? is it weird that he holds empathy for you?

"are you insulting me?"

your head shakes back and forth, fingers prodding at the corners of your book. "not quite, i've just never met someone like you".

"well usually someone having split knuckles is cause for concern".

your face again drops, and the awkward chuckle mark hoped would quell such worries instead died down in his throat. he watches the way you gaze upward then downward, mapping each of mark's features with your tentative eyes. "it's not that big of a deal" you mumble, twiddling your thumbs as you quickly avert your gaze.

you avoid his eyes in the same way a child does when they fear upsetting their parents, your lips curl down into the exact appearance of disappointment.

mark's mouth is completely dry, he doesn't really know how to deal with.. this. he levels at you with a blank stare, attempting to see through you, maybe get into your thoughts and finally figure out why you don't find your knuckles being split being the huge problem it is.

"okay.. um, can you show me the sources you found then?"

mark is trying his best to not make it awkward, how do you not even release a wince at the pain you must be experiencing? you simply engross yourself in that pen and paper once again.

it's a bit difficult to make conversation when all he currently sees are the bruises decorating your hands. he grimaces as if you're some exhibit he isn't fond of, and from the flickers of your eyes he catches in his peripheral vision, you clearly take notice.

"you gonna stop looking at me like that?"

"sorry!" mark is quick to sputter, his blinks as rapid as his response. "i'm sorry it just.. doesn't that hurt?"

a breath falls from your lips, the beginnings of a laugh making it's way up into the air. "it's nothing i haven't felt before".

mark wants to ask again, but he keeps in such urges. again, he's still afraid you'll punch him in the face if he opens his mouth again. mark assumes he just doesn't get it, maybe how you feel is vastly different to how he feels. "can i at least walk you to the nurses office?"

another question, mark feels his stomach curl into something terrible, but instead of the blow up reaction he expects, you simply pause, blinking.

you press your teeth against each other, thinking it over with your eyes trailing the shelves of the library. one click to your pen, a small sigh falling from your lips. "fine.. i guess".

you guess, well that's a start. mark can make well with that.

you gather books as best as you can quickly, shoulders tensing. mark urges to grab your hand, maybe soothe it over with his thumb, but he suppresses such urges in fear of weirding you out (because you already deemed him a 'weirdo').

"you know.. if you ever need to tell someone something, i'm here".

it's a flimsy suggestion, a small uttering mark could only muster with the worry in his heart. you shot him a glance, the abrupt movement of your head almost startling mark backward. you stare, the expression on your face indecipherable, mark wishes he could reach into your mind, pull out your innermost thoughts and figure out exactly why you think the way you do.

your eyes stay narrowed for a moment, simply staring at mark, frozen in front of the nurse's office. you click your tongue, scratching at the start of your sweater. "sure".

sure, sure. it's not a no, that's good. it's not a yes, which isn't exactly assuring. it's a sure. sure. there's a start, it's a beginning.

you don't exactly sound sure, your eyes cast around your surroundings, and your lips sink into your bottom teeth. the anxiety permeating from you is reminiscent of mark's own.

well maybe you two aren't that different.

i'm here if you want to talk, mark repeats in his own head, and he begins biting the skin off his lips.

sure is your response.

it's a good enough response for a start.

THE TITLE OF 'FRIENDS' ISN'T YET ESTABLISHED between you two. you're still an enigma, a mystery, mark is still just the tiniest bit afraid you'll attempt to punch him in the face if he says something you don't agree with. you're an easy person to work with, in comparison to some of mark's other project partners. you two equally split up the workload, you don't mind taking up most of the work, you tell mark it's okay, even with bandages arranged around your bruised knuckles, you could jot down notes about the fucking industrial revolution all day. mark makes out that you don't necessarily enjoy talking, you communicate with your feeble expressions.

again, you two aren't established friends, and considering you only have one ninety minute class together in one whole school day, it would be a turbulent effort to even attempt a friendship.

you can be summed up as simply 'project buddies', there isn't anything more to it, but that's because mark has some fear instilled in him directed towards you. you don't glare, but it still appears that you do.

you continuously scribble in your notebook, biting your fingernails, the same anxious impulses mark finds himself unconsciously doing. day in and day out mark clocks a few more similarities between you two, that's interesting.

you become less of an apparition and more of an actual person, october begins coming to a close, temperatures falling at the rapid rate of the leaves. in the next coming weeks, he'll probably begin wearing jackets.

"i think maybe we should start going to each other's places after school?"

you pause in your dragging when mark brings that up, one click to your pen. you lick your teeth, whole body tensing. "we can't go to my place" you clear your throat. "my parents.."

you stop midway through your own sentence, it's as if you were restrained, unable to utter the rest of it in.. fear? you avoid mark's gaze, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

mark blinks, he sort of expected that answer. another click to your pen, you continue dragging it against your notebook page. mark almost leans over to check what you're doing, but he keeps himself still. you don't have to say more, he doesn't need for you to say more. "oh, it's okay! we can just go to my place".

you remain still. "your parents won't mind?"

mark quickly shakes his head. "they never mind, honestly they keep complaining about how i don't bring people over".

for the first time since mark's met you, a small laugh leaves your lips. "okay.. that's fine".

fine. not good, just fine. maybe it takes a while for you to warm up, mark doesn't mind, he can wait.

you tug at a strand of your hair using your finger, licking your teeth. "is friday good for you?" mark inquires, watching as you again begin vigorously clicking your pen.

you again pause before answering, an indecipherable feeling entering you. mark tries to study you, but he gets nothing, he really is clueless to how you are. "friday is fine" you then say, much too rapidly for it to be authentic. you seem shaky, erratic, it all seems so scary.

mark nods, a final click to your pen. "okay.. after school maybe? we could walk together".

yet another flimsy suggestion, mark only utters such a thing because he doesn't exactly want to pick specific times. it's easier this way, directly after school, you have your last class together, just heading home after it all finished would be fine. it's simple.

you stare at him as if he just grew two heads, your eyes dilated in a freakish fashion. mark finds it staggering, you always stare at him as if he's said something absurd when he offers even the tiniest bit of kindness to you. your eyebrows furrow, simply a look of pure confusion painted on your face.

but even with the torture you seem to be facing in your own mind, you present a neutral smile. "yeah, that's okay".

okay. not good, just okay.

mark thinks he can deal with okay.

the coming friday enters like a freight train, it's a tumultuous crash that is so rapid the world shakes. mark scratches behind his ear, eyes droopy as he simply awaits for the ending of class.

he zones out on the sound of a pen dragging against a notebook page, he doesn't need to crane his head back to know that you're scribbling something into your notebook. he wonders if you're interested in drawing, maybe you enjoy the aspect of art, that seems interesting.

mark wants to ask, but there's always a voice in his head that chastises him for being so curious, the same way his mother used to when he'd ask outlandish questions as a child.

he has to use all of the fight in him to not look back at you, he'd probably get another weird utter from you if he decided to simply turn back and stare, mark isn't stupid, he knows how people are, he knows it's weird to just sit and stare at someone.

one click to your pen.

class dismisses as soon as it begins, and mark almost falls to the floor when he stands up, his exhaustion practically weighing him down. he acts in a strange manner, one that draws a small snicker from you as you observe his behavior.

"you alright there?" mark only sighs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"i'm fine just.. tired" mark explains, chuckling emptily. you simply stare again, tightening your hold against your backpack. you click your tongue, shoulders still tense as ever. "do you want to come over now or..?"

you nod. "now is fine".

mark makes sure to not show his elation too clearly, just presenting his regular smile as it is to you. he almost grabs your hand, he wants to feel the intertwining of your fingers, but again, you'd probably punch him in the face.

the walk isn't long, mark walks to school every single day, having not skipped a beat ever since freshman year began. you two stroll towards mark's place in silence, the air growing awkward as the autumn air breezes through your hair.

mark clears his throat, taking in a breath. "is your hand getting better?"

it's a trifling inquiry mark only makes out because of the need for conversation, it'd be so much worse if you two were just quiet. mark usually doesn't have a problem with talking to people, but with you, it's just the slightest bit difficult.

you again offer a curt shrug as a response. "it's okay".

okay. wow, you never really give a sure answer. mark wonders if you even know the answer yourself.

"okay isn't really a reassuring answer".

"doesn't matter".

it does to me.

the words hang heavy on mark's lips, but they then die down in his throat, would it be strange to say that to someone you barely even know? someone who probably doesn't consider you a friend in their own indecipherable mind? mark curses himself for harboring such strong feelings towards you, someone whose basically a stranger.

"again, nothing i haven't felt before" you mutter, words hushed in their usual manner. you leave no more room for explanations, going silent as you continue your walk beside him.

mark, though curious, also remains silent, slowly speeding up as he makes out the sight of his house.

you keep your head down when mark opens the door, peaking his head from behind it. "mom! i'm home!"

mark misses the small flicker of jealousy in your eyes, too busy getting attacked by his mother's frenzied affection. you could only stare at the spectacle, keeping your silence.

"oh, and whose this?"

mark blinks, his big eyes widening extraordinarily. "this is y/n, my classmate, were doing a project together".

you again keep silent for a while, clearing your throat as she offers you a smile. "it's nice to meet you mrs. lee".

"oh you're adorable, look at those cheeks!"

you had half a mind to lean back when she pinched your cheek, but you stayed still, even with the tense of your stance. mark snickers behind his hand, finding the sight amusing.

he lets a breath fall from his lips. "were gonna go study in my room, if that's okay.."

"that's fine! don't be afraid to tell me if you need anything!"

she claps her hands happily and ruffles mark's hair, yet you continue staring incredulously, as if the actions were alien. you only nodded, silence again overtaking you as you follow behind mark to his room, smiling at his mother as you walk your way there.

"your mom is nice" you whisper, mark only able to hear it because of the lack of space between you two. you still don't smile, a neutral expression remaining on your face.

mark again chuckles lightly, motioning his head forward as he holds his door open for you. "yeah, everyone says that, you okay though?"

you glance back at him, puzzled. "yeah.. i'm fine".

fine, that has to be a specific buzzword of sorts. mark again blinks, several emotions flaring in his irises. "well i noticed you kinda froze when my mom touched you".

you merely offer a shrug, settling onto the floor and pulling out the several books you'd been reading prior. "i'm just not used to that kind of affection".

mark raises an eyebrow, dropping his backpack onto the ground with a resounding thud, the many books practically shaking the floor. that was an answer didn't really expect. maybe he just doesn't get it, your mom can't be that bad, it's your mom! how could a mother not harbor affection towards her child.

you snap your head up, a look in your eye, as if you were daring him to make a brash comment about your family life. mark gulps in the quietest way possible, smile straining against his lips. "did you get any more notes on the steam engine's origins?"

you reply with a small smile, seemingly pleased he changed the topic.

hours go by with you two simply studying and talking about your topic, the familiar drag of your pen filling the air of mark's room. you didn't bring up anything off topic, it's honestly impressive how long you stayed without getting distracted, but mark assumes it's because you just don't enjoy talking.

you've pretty much given up on the subject at hand, resorting to drawing whatever in your notebook. dark circles begin visibly appearing under your eyes, but you still don't make a comment, simply preoccupying yourself with your mini art pieces.

mark stares, eyes drifting off to his open window, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. he admires the reddish-orange hue of the sky, his lips turning up at the picture.

"what time is it?"

mark's eyes flicker in a sudden shift, and he again glances at you, then at the clock against the wall. "it's almost eight pm".

you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, gathering the books you rested on the floor to again put back into your backpack. one click to your pen, you also let it fall into your pencil case. "i should probably get going now.. thank you for letting me come over".

mark shakes his hand, offering a dismissive wave. "it's nothing, if you want to start doing this more often.. you know my parent's won't mind".

you pause, letting your silence fester as you put on your backpack. you bite your inner cheek, mark can practically hear you thinking. "..maybe" you mutter, staring down at the floor as you begin making your way down the hall, towards the front door.

mark pretty much springs to his feet, he doesn't want to be an impolite guest, his mom always told him that it's nice to walk people out. "or we could just go back to studying in the library".

he really just wants you to be comfortable.

you pause, steps slowing down as you make it to the middle of the living room. your fingers tap against the straps of your backpack, licking your teeth. "i'll think about it, then when i decide i'll tell you".

mark finds himself smiling at that. it's again, a start. "okay, i can wait".

you share yet another neutral smile, but it seems your lips itch to turn up even more, you seem to want to share a genuine smile with mark, but you stop yourself for some reason. "you're so patient".

"i learned from the best".

you again bite your inner cheek, and mark's eyebrow raises, those words appear to displease you.

"oh are you leaving already y/n?"

your displeasure transforms into immediate bliss when mark's mother again enters, blinking. "yeah, it's getting late now".

"do you not want to stay for dinner?"

you again stop in your place, seemingly freezing. mark does the same, parroting your expression with his shoulders tensing. he glances over at you, watching as the inner battle your having in your head plays on your forehead in big bold letters. "um.. i—"

"mark!" his mother chastises, smacking his arm in a manner that draws a small wince. "what are you standing there for? invite your friend over for dinner!"

mark almost wants to utter he's not my friend, but that's just so mean to say out loud. he isn't exactly sure if that's what you would want or not, so his mouth again hangs open like he's some sort of idiot who doesn't know how to speak.

but you break the silence by chuckling silently. "it's okay mrs. lee i wouldn't want to overstay my welcome".

she sucks her teeth, waving a dismissive hand in the same manner mark does. "don't say that! you're welcome here now! have you eaten yet?"

you can only stare incredulously, biting the skin off your lips. "no not really.."

she gasps in horror, her big brown eyes holding a familiar look of worry. "you must be starving then! just stay for a few minutes, yeah?"

you so badly want to decline, mark sees it in the shift you perform, but it's also impossible to decline, you share one glance with mark, then you sigh. "okay.. thank you ma'am".

"don't thank me, i'm simply doing the bare minimum".

you wonder where you've heard that one before.

mark finally snaps out of his daze, a warm smile spreading across his features. "are you really staying?" he inquires when his mom walks back to the kitchen, the volume of his voice merely a small whisper.

"just for a few minutes" you whisper in reply, the straps of your backpack burning into your palm with how hard you're pressing onto it.

mark can barely even hide the bigger smile that threatens to paint his face. that's nice, it's not along the lines of a sure or an okay, it's something more.

maybe it's a step in the right direction.

WHEN MONDAY AGAIN ROLLS AROUND, MARK has way too much on his mind. the crisp october air has just gotten cooler, his heavier sweaters now in need. a few days from now it might begin smelling much more brisk, trees will wither at an even quicker rate, the leaves crunching under his shoes will fly away in the breeze without bidding so much as a goodbye. by the time november comes to a close, mark will have worn out this red sweater he's so attached to. for now though, he's going to wear it every single day, it matches the appearance of the autumn season, he wants to stay on theme (and he also just has a super huge attachment to the sweater).

even after you stayed over for a few extra minutes to have dinner at his house, courtesy of his mother's own magnanimity, you two still don't establish any kind of friendship. he heard you utter a few words about how he clearly inherited that from her, but he feigned ignorance as he focused on eating dinner.

your presentation is next week, the last week was simply full of research questions and many pieces of cardboard scattered across the floor. the librarian finds the sight of you two so mundane that she greets you with a small nod each time you enter.

there's much more studying than there actually is talking about anything else, an unseen work ethic mark usually wouldn't find weird if it wasn't for the morbid curiosity he has for everything.. well— you.

mark stares as you continue jotting, tape on your right hand side you stare at the cardboard folder you two decided to use for your presentation. he's been distracted for a while now, but you're still as focused as ever, it's pretty admirable how dedicated you are to this project.

"do you maybe wanna be friends?"

the tiniest sound of ink dropping onto a paper stops, one click to your pen. you always seem to do that, pause midway through your actions before fully taking his words into account. you always stare at him as if he says something absurd, like he's a crazy person. mark finds each of your actions pretty strange.

"what?"

he claps his hands, nails scratching the back of his own palms. "i don't know.. you've had dinner with my parents already, isn't it weird that we aren't friends?"

you itch to say something, and mark wishes superpowers would be granted to him in this very moment. he can't tell what you're thinking and the irritation begins to seep in as quick as he craves for it to disappear. "unless you don't want to be friends.. i don't mind".

what a terrible liar. he does mind. he fucking minds so much it's going to begin physically paining him soon enough.

you let go of the tense you seem to hold onto, shoulders relaxing as you sink into your chair. "fine, let's be friends then".

you say the words in a manner that indicates you're just the slightest bit weirded out, almost everything about mark seems to weird you out, and maybe it makes mark feel a little insecure.

"what's your favorite season?"

"excuse me?" you narrow your eyes, and mark thinks any courage he could've held in that moment dies down in his throat.

mark blinks, you have no reason to be so terrifying. it must be some skill of yours. "well usually when you make friends with people you get to know them.. i don't really know much about you, it's a start".

a start, there it is again, a start. your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, you pull your sleeves over your arms. "what? like twenty questions?"

mark's slow nod is almost barely recognizable. "yeah basically".

you stare for a moment, your silence overtaking you once again. maybe you're just thinking of an answer, maybe you don't think of these things in the way mark does, cogs turn in his brain, and he begins;

"i like summer.. mostly because my birthday is in summer but i've never really been a fan of the cold, it's excruciating to sleep in the summer but i greatly prefer it anyway, it's easier to sleep in heat than trudge to school in thick snow".

when mark releases a final breath, he again glances at you. oh! he just rambled, he just rambled through a response that he basically programmed into his head in preparation for this kind of question.

you again, look at him like he's crazy, but there's a hint of amusement in your expression, your lips threatening to turn up into a grin. "i don't really have a favorite".

mark's face scrunches, that's a boring answer. "okay but if you had to choose, which one would you pick?"

your shoulders again drop, rising into a shrug that isn't exactly of confusion, but something much more complicated. "autumn, it's like the in between season, summer makes my skin feel too clammy and winter is just.. painful".

"painful?"

"i don't really enjoy snow" you begin clicking your pen consistently once more. mark wonders if that's one of your anxious habits, he has some of those as well, he wonders a lot about you. "i guess it can be pretty but it's so cold i just can't help but dislike it".

"valid point".

you hum in response, and mark again smiles. it's pretty nice talking to you about just stupid things like this, hopefully you can share more moments in such a fashion. "do you like history?"

you snort. "not as much as you clearly do".

mark shakes his head for some reason. "i don't really enjoy history i just put a crazy amount of effort into it like i do my other subject.."

"well you have to stay on the principal's honor roll".

mark clears his throat, if he couldn't pinpoint your tone of voice, he would've thought you were insulting him with a show of sarcasm, but it's quite the opposite, there's a show of admiration in that tone of yours, respect. it's flattering, and if mark wasn't still afraid of you punching him in the face, he would've allowed for tease to slip from his lips.

"you're very smart too, just in your own way".

"well i'm much more of a science person" you respond, and mark's eyes widen in a form of daze. he had no idea what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.

"science?"

"you seem surprised" you utter, just the faintest hint of surprise on your features as you mirror the look mark gave you seconds prior (save for your eyes widening).

"i don't know, i would've never guessed science".

"i've long finished that class i just.. i find the aspect of science interesting" you pause your consistent clicking of your pen, again beginning to draw out something in your notebook.

mark almost wants to inquire about what you draw on the pages, but he keeps that in the recesses of his mind. "like biology and stuff?"

"physics, chemistry, astronomy, all the bullshit you hate learning about in school" though you focus on the drawing you seem pretty into, you also remember to give as much attention to mark. "it's interesting to research about when there isn't an uptight guy up your ass".

mark snickers at the reply, completely knowing of the teacher you're referring to with that sentence. "mr. cho isn't that bad".

"oh trust me, he is".

you giggle at your own response, the first show of a genuine smile mark sees on your face ever since the first time he met you. "sorry for calling you weird the last time".

shock flickers in mark's galaxy like irises. he wasn't exactly expecting an apology from you, he already got over it (as much as he could with how terrified of you he was). "it's okay, i guess i was being kinda pushy".

"no i was just being difficult, don't blame yourself".

mark wants to but in, yet his mouth clamps shut. he itches to tell you no, to tell you that he just doesn't get you yet, but it's not your fault.

"well were friends now, so it doesn't matter".

when your eyes cast towards him, an unusual shiver runs down his spine, but a smile stays stuck to his face.

after legions of fear, friendship is finally established.

but it's still a little strange. though mark finally knows a few new interesting factoids concerning you (your favorite season is autumn, you have an interest in science, and you aren't as scary as you may seem), you're still a pretty clear mystery.

the rest of the week is spent finalizing your project, there's again less off topic talking again, and mark holds on to that small conversation you originally had in the library for the next few days, looking forward to the next time he can have such a talk with you.

you seem to thrive in silence, so mark doesn't try to force more conversation between you two, when you want to talk to him, you'll talk to him.

but mark still has that itching curiosity which won't go away.

"do you ever worry about someone for no reason?"

mark inquires it to donghyuck on the following friday, the barely warm breeze rushing past them, slightly lifting hairs from their heads. donghyuck blinks, stretching his legs forward onto the rest of the aluminum bleachers. "what do you mean by that?"

mark pauses, he should've expected donghyuck to answer his question with a question. it was all abrupt, flimsy, it wasn't all thought out like most of his inquiries. "i don't know.. sometimes i don't talk much to someone and i still feel like something is going on".

donghyuck raises an eyebrow. "ohh, you're talking about y/n".

mark doesn't even know why he's shocked, out of words, he nods at his response.

donghyuck lets out a breath. "y/n's a pretty stalling guy, he usually doesn't get to the point quickly, you might just be worried because he won't confide in you".

"i mean.. it still feels like there's more there, i can understand if he doesn't want to talk to me but i'm also afraid something more might be going on, you know?"

donghyuck sucks his teeth, offering mark an elbow nudge that seems along the lines of an affectionate gesture. "that might just be because of your naturally aiding impulses, i'm sure if something is going on, y/n just isn't telling you because he doesn't want you to freak".

mark's face scrunches. "i'm not going to freak".

"well then you clearly don't know yourself" donghyuck pats mark on his shoulder, grabbing his backpack and shrugging it over his shoulder. just as mark is about to give yet another brash response, donghyuck quips; "wanna race back to my place?"

before mark can respond, donghyuck leaps off the bleachers and begins sprinting, much to his own dismay. "hey! that's cheating!" he shouts, but donghyuck makes no move of slowing down.

mark curses at his own best friend, trying his best to keep up the pace. "donghyuck!"

all he receives in return is a gleeful giggle.

MARK FIRST MEETS YOUR PARENTS THE FOLLOWING WEEK, an event that was entirely accidental. you guys ace the project, the resounding look of pride from your teacher alerts you of that. the a+ was guaranteed you say, from the moment mrs. lim decided to place you two in a project together she knew it was. still, even with the usually high expectations, mark can barely contain himself, almost hugging you in the aftermath of the whole thing. he isn't sure how he managed to keep it all to himself, but he did, and it's good that he did, he was afraid of making it all more awkward. he was pleased to see a smile blossom on your face, your smile is pretty, it's fitting.

the moment class ends, he makes his way over to you. "we did a good job" he whispers, the volume of his voice barely able to be considered a whisper. he held his hand up, wincing in his own mind as he watches you stare.

but, fortunately for mark, you give him a high five, your hands meeting in a silent slap. for the sheer moment your palms meet, he basks in the feeling of your rough callouses against his soft ones. "you did a good job".

"we did a good job" mark specifies, and you stand up from your place, simply responding with a small nod.

you decide to not argue with him, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. there's a small silence that settles into the air, but then mark again perks up. "do you want to walk home together?"

shock colors your features, an instant look of fear flickering in your eyes. "i— i mean.."

you lick your lips, thousands of thoughts running rampant through your mind. "sure" you reply, feeling mark's heavy gaze directed towards you.

again, it's just a sure, nothing exactly reassuring.

mark tightens his hold on his backpack, a small look in his eye that you actively avoid. he decides to not comment on it, instead letting the silence fester as you two bid farewell to your fellow classmates and begin walking home.

it seems you walk home to school as well, you haven't muttered anything about a bus, or about your parents taking you to and from school. he usually sees you walk in the opposite direction of the bus stop, so he simply assumes you walk home like he does.

he hears you mumble something under your breath, and he narrows his eyes, curiosity peaked by the unintelligible words. he glances at you, eyes full of anxiety. "is everything okay?"

your head snaps up so quickly mark almost squeaks at the sharp movement. your eyes are widened comically, but mark can't even find an awkward chuckle ready to leave his lips, you look terrified, you look.. scared.

"m' fine".

"you sure?"

you don't have to lie to me.

mark decides to keep that one to himself.

"yeah i'm fine" you say, avoiding eye contact and stomping your shoes.

you stop in front of an unfamiliar house, only half the walk towards mark's own place. oh, so you don't live that far away from school. you live closer than mark even does, he guesses he again learned something new about you.

"hey you don't even live that far away" mark says, hoping his smile will somehow brighten your mood. he watches a small flicker of bliss form on your face, and he manages to contain his own elation. "you didn't tell me you lived close by".

you again mutter something unintelligible under your breath, but your tone of voice indicates that you're just the slightest bit afraid once again.

mark is about to ask again when the door swings open, and an unfamiliar woman with a mean look in her eye. she squints at the sight of you, irritation crossing her expression. "i thought you were staying at school late".

the look of fear in your eyes becomes more of embarrassment, but the terror remains. "i um— i messed it up, my projects over".

mark studies her face for a moment, he assumes that's your mother, but he doesn't capture a single resemblance between you two. "crock of shit" she mumbles, her eyes shift erratically, and she clicks her tongue in a manner reminiscent of how you do it.

mark stops as he feels an awkwardness shift in the air, and she finally has half a mind to acknowledge his presence. "do i know you?"

her head tilts slightly, and mark almost jumps back in complete terror. "no i.. mark lee, i'm y/n's friend".

she raises an eyebrow, a chuckle of disbelief being her immediate response. "you have friends?"

you lick your teeth, the irritation in your expression betraying the words on your lips: "i didn't mean to lie" you continue to avoid her eyes, as if afraid she might turn you into stone if you even glance at her face. "i'm sorry".

she dismisses your apology rather quickly. "whatever i don't care.." she almost rolls her eyes, but she seems to stop it. "it's nice to meet you.." she snaps her fingers as her words trail off, and mark realizes she forgot his name already. "mark".

your cheeks tint pink with embarrassment, and you look down at the floor, holding in your breaths. "can i have a few minutes?" you mumble, tutting silently.

she shrugs. "be quick, we have to talk" irritation laces her tone, and she places a performative smile on her face as she glances at mark, the door closing behind her.

mark is almost completely overtaken by his silence, but then you sigh, shoulders relaxing. "was that your mom?"

you mimic her prior shrug, tongue prodding at your cheek. "more or less.." you don't exactly react to those words, simply have an indifferent expression on.

"you don't look like her at all".

the moment the words escape mark, he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening. that has to be offensive in some way, that's absolutely ridiculous to say, if his mom were here she'd smack him on the back of the head for the way he just acted. instead, you reply with a silent chuckle, a small smile painting your face.

"foster parents".

mark blinks. "what?"

"they're my foster parents, not my actual ones" you explain, and mark's heart drops to his feet.

oh. that's the entire expanse of your situation. mark didn't exactly think that would be the case, he doesn't know what he expected, but it definitely wasn't this.

"oh" he voices out loud, gritting his own teeth. "i— i'm sorry i didn't know".

he almost feels guilty in a sense.

for what, though?

"it's alright" you shake your head, shrugging your backpack over your shoulder, your expression of indifference remains. "see you on monday".

mark has no idea how he collects his words. "yeah, see you.."

but mark can't walk home without the feeling of nausea bubbling up in his stomach.

CONTRARY TO YOUR VERY WORDS, YOU DO NOT show up on monday. mark immediately jumps to the worst possible outcome. he isn't exactly sure why he jumped to thinking the worst, he's simply afraid something happened. your.. mothers sharp glare remains permanently framed in his memory, she was absolutely terrifying. when monday flies by with no sight of you, mark almost wants to walk to your place himself, but he keeps himself settled in his own thoughts, he wouldn't want to freak you out. his worries extended towards the day after, the greeting november air only adding to his worries.

now the oncoming cooler air is completely welcomed on mark's part. he enjoys the cold weather more than he has the gall to admit, and his dark red sweater has already been worn out even after only a week of consistently wearing it.

mark entered class on tuesday with a whole wave of nausea overtaking anything else he could've been feeling. when he took his seat, he practically waited to be bestowed with bad news.

he licks his lips as the teacher begins taking attendance, the 'here' he mutters is full of distraught he couldn't tell he was holding.

mrs. lim narrowed her eyes at her clipboard, the click of her tongue bouncing off the walls. "has anyone seen y/n?"

the question is asked out of sheer curiosity, just the slightest hint of worry present in her tone. it's a thing to be absent once, but you're usually only absent once, you're a pretty consistent student in terms of attendance.

her eyes flicker up, and the rest of the class begin their resounding murmurs. mark merely glances around, licking his teeth, additionally sucking his teeth to sell his irritation.

she scrunches her nose, about to ask again when, as if on cue, you walk in through the door. the indifference painted on your face is similar to the one he memorized back on that friday. you blink, avoiding her eyes in the manner of an ashamed child. "sorry i'm late" you mutter, frantically extending your gaze around the whole room.

mrs. lim stares, attempting to read your inner most thoughts. "it's okay just.. you'll get a tardy pass later sit down".

you offer your best nod, lips remained pressed shut as you shuffle towards your seat, avoiding mark's eyes specifically. his gaze trails onto yours, but because he can't see your eyes, he can't read how you feel.

you hang your head low as you take your seat, the familiar dragging of your pen against your notebook page not filling the room. mark feels as if the room is suffocating him whole, your very presence itself strangely scaring him.

"why didn't you show up yesterday?" mark inquires, he really wants make it sound like it's all okay, but his words trail off into an accusing whine.

you pause, shrugging. there's so much exhaustion behind your eyes, as if you've missed out on weeks upon weeks of sleep. "something came up".

you attempt your best shot at walking away from mark, back faced towards him as you walk in the direction of the bathroom.

mark scrunches his face, speeding up his own pace and brushing his shoulder against yours. he can no longer contain his curiosity, you look absolutely terrified of.. something. "what came up?"

"nothing".

"don't lie to me".

mark's expression of worry is now at full affect, his big brown eyes holding anxiety. you manage your best scoff, the grasp on your backpack tightening. your face twitches, the flicker in your eyes betraying the disdain you attempt to face make with.

still, you try to brush him off, shaking your head. "i'm not lying, and besides, it's none of your business".

mark kisses his teeth, a loud sigh now leaving his lips. he clears his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.

you stare, crumbling under his undeniably soft gaze. "i'm sorry" you mumble, immediately looking away from him, eyes shifting uncontrollably. "i just don't want to talk about it" you poke the side of your cheek with your tongue, clasping your hands behind your back.

mark stares down at his feet, biting down into his bottom lip. he scratches at his own fingers, anxious impulses all high and mighty. "it's alright, i— um.. do you wanna go get ice cream?"

you blink, sucking your teeth. you scratch the back of your neck, and mark has no idea why he asks that question, he just knows ice cream usually makes him feel better, maybe it's the same for you.

"ice cream? in november?"

"ice cream always helps people feel better".

you offer a small chuckle at that, head turned down as you nod.

mark smiles, he can't believe that worked. your walk to the local ice cream parlor is silent, clear fatigue still present under your eyes. you lightly shiver at the cold breeze that rushes past you, a faint mutter from mark questioning if you two should even be going to get ice cream in the first place.

"you're the one who suggested we get ice cream" you breath out, making no indication that you were against the idea of getting ice cream after school in the beginnings of winter. "i don't mind".

"but i just want to make sure".

the words seemingly appall you, and mark realizes that most of his words seem to have that effect on you. you again fester in your silence, tongue licking at your lips as you catch sight of the nearby ice cream parlor. "it doesn't really matter.."

why doesn't it matter? why is it so strange that i care about you y/n?

the words don't escape mark, they simply fizzle out into the air as the screeching of the open door instead meets his ears. mark is quick to smile as you two walk into the ice cream parlor, his humming immediately filling the air.

"i kind of see ice cream as a comfort thing because it reminds me of summer.." mark mutters, licking his spoon stained with the cookie dough flavoring.

you don't eat right away, simply stab your spoon into your pile of vanilla. "how can something so cold be so comforting?"

just look at you.

you suck your teeth, as if sensing his thoughts, the ice cream brightens your mood in just the slightest, he can see it in the way your eyes flare up. at least he momentarily got it, at least there's at least a sliver of happiness there.

"everything cold is comforting in summer".

"it's going to begin snowing soon" you smack your lips at the taste of vanilla on your tongue, it's just.. vanilla. "might get a brain freeze".

"worth it for the sugar".

now that, that draws a small snicker from you, your lips finally turning up in a display of ecstasy. maybe it isn't you finding that funny, but it's you finding mark's delivery to be blissful. your head tips down as you attempt to stifle your laughter, but you can't exactly hold yourself together.

mark stares at the prospect, his lips turning up unconsciously as his gaze is stick onto you, and how you look.. pleased.

mark can't even contain it. he loves seeing you be happy.

which then results in his mind retracting, he thinks back to the sight of your mother's angry face, and his lips turn downward.

maybe you were gone because something happened at home, mark can really do nothing but assume.

"sacrificing your well being for sugar? that's so.. strange".

"sugar is a good coping tool" mark breaths, throwing out the ice cream that he finished rather quickly.

you simply hum in reply, clearly not believing those words, but letting mark have the win anyway.

"hey y/n?"

you blink, your gaze slow as you stare down mark. mark clears his throat, swallowing his own fear. "i want you to talk to me.. okay? i don't mean to come off as pushy or annoying or nosey i just want to make sure you're alright, i'm not going to bite or anything".

you opt to awkwardly chuckle at that last bit, again shrugging your backpack over your shoulder. "i know.."

mark's face scrunches, he still doesn't really have you, you're still pretty withdrawn. "you don't have to tell me about everything just.. you know i'm here, if you ever need someone to talk to—"

"you'll be my first choice, don't worry" you finish the next half of your sentence with your own words, words that can't be feigned honesty, as you avoid mark's eyes in the process.

the words strike something.. different in mark. is it maybe bliss? some undiscovered form of happiness? he doesn't exactly know the name, even if it feels as if it's on the tip of his tongue, but he's pleased for now. there's trust that's been established between you two, you trust mark.

"okay, okay" mark heaves a breath, his smile sticking to his face.

you seem to like his smile, because your pupils dilate at the sight of it.

maybe it isn't exactly the ice cream that helped you feel better, but mark can't figure out that it might be him that's your cure.

FRIENDSHIP ALSO MEANS HAVING TO SPEND time with each other, something that seems easy enough. "spending time" simply equates to mark talking and you listening. again, you don't exactly enjoy talking, so you leave all of it to him. mark talks to death about himself, his life, his dad, his mom, stuff you probably don't find interesting, but keep circulating through your mind. mark can hear the disdain you must be feeling, because all he does is talk about his stuff. he doesn't think he would enjoy that if it was someone else, but you really don't seem to mind, as long as you don't need to do the talking.

"do i talk about myself too much?" mark abruptly inquires, head whipping towards you in an instant. your gaze is fixed on the ground, and you opt to sucking your teeth as a silent response. "it's alright, you can be honest".

you snicker at that. "you're a very.. thoughtful person".

mark narrows his eyes. what is that supposed to mean?

"you think a lot, there's simply so much on your mind" you clarify, tongue dragging across your teeth. "i don't mind if you talk, it's how i learn".

"learn about..?"

"you, what you like, how you are, talk all you want it's okay".

mark straightens himself, hands dropping into his lap. "i want you to talk".

you raise an eyebrow. "what?"

"talk about yourself, i know enough about me, why don't you tell me about you?"

"i'm not that interesting" your quick to say, fingers beginning to pick at your own individual nails. when mark sends you a look, you follow up on your words; "really i'm not, don't look at me like that".

mark takes in a deep sigh, carting a hand through his light brown hair. "it doesn't matter".

you bite into your cheek. mark parroted your own words to signal at least.. something, reaching out to you might be a challenge, but mark isn't going to stop trying.

you contemplate, eyes heavy lidded. "i mean— why are you at the police station so much?"

the police station. that's where you two first met, you raise your shoulders into a performed shrug. your dark sweater paralleling the color of your eyes, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "my parents are assholes".

the words are said surely, there isn't indifference there, there is no dissatisfaction behind your eyes, you know what you're saying, you don't even mind what you're saying.

mark could never say such a thing, let alone say them about his parents.

"oh".

mark clears his throat. "you're a foster kid? how does that work?"

mark knows how it works, he just needs to see how the terms spill from your lips. "they just drop me into another home when my other foster parents get sick of me, adoption is useless so i just stay with strangers who get paid monthly that don't care".

mark isn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't that. his mouth remains dry, what is a regular response to exposition like that? he scratches at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, guilt again in the air.

"sorry, i really know how to ruin the mood".

"no no! it's okay, i'm the one who asked".

"still, didn't need to make it all.. depressing".

"i mean— it is pretty depressing" mark scratches at his own knees, smile awkward. "but sometimes that's just how life decides to treat us".

us is a bit of a shallow way to put it, mark doesn't understand your circumstances, he's never faced any of what you face. "i'm sorry, i wish i could do something".

"you need to stop apologizing".

"but—"

"stop" you suck a breath between your teeth, hands placed symmetrically at your sides.

"alright, sorr.." he pauses when you raise an eyebrow, the beginning of his second apology forcing itself back down his throat. "okay".

you just barely hold back your shiver, the fall air rushing past you in a speed reminiscent of the ocean. "shit like that isn't your fault, i get you're.. you care, i know, but you don't have to apologize".

mark opts to awkwardly chuckle. "i don't really know what else to say.."

"you're a nice person to be around".

the words are enough to get a pause, but you don't exactly mind it, you said those words with conviction, as if you had previously thought them out and were completely sure of what they entailed.

or maybe you can secretly sense the effect they have, because mark isn't exactly the best at hiding the formations of his newest expressions. his eyes light up, the shine of the sun peeking behind the clouds amplifying the pleasure he recedes from the compliment.

your lips turn up by in the slightest, and you suck a breath between your teeth as you patiently await his response.

"oh" mark breaths, clearing his throat as he lets the strange feeling in his stomach settle away. "thank you.."

you don't reply, your smile simply mundane. you again kiss your teeth, mark's fingers fiddling at his necklace. "i.. uh— another thing i'm pretty interested in astronomy".

the mutter is half said, the rest of your words trailing off into something barely intelligible. mark's eyes dazzle in intrigue, astronomy is pretty interesting. "you like space?"

"i love space" you shake your head in disbelief at your own words. "it's pretty, the stars, the planets, just.. all of it is beautiful".

"and deadly".

now that one is a surprise, because you aren't able to stifle your laughter, your head shaking as a display of your amusement. "well yeah but that can be said for many things".

mark's eyes again dazzle, his own intrigue building up at the reply. "that's what makes a lot of the world interesting".

your eyebrow raise in a parroting of mark's own intrigue. "more like it's what makes it terrifying".

"terrifying can be interesting".

"i never said it couldn't".

your knees knock together, an indecisive look in your eye. you pull your sleeves over your arms when you begin noticing the goosebumps, a sigh leaving your lips immediately. "it's fine if you talk, i don't mind".

mark has no idea why, but he feels that those words are a lie. "it doesn't get repetitive?"

your expression falters for a simple moment, but instead of speaking, you keep your words to yourself. you shake your head silently, hands placed into your lap.

there's a moment of silence again, mark carefully crafts his next words, straightening his posture as he keeps his gaze trained straight ahead. "do you like drawing?"

seamless segway.

it would be seamless if mark wasn't shaking so much, maybe it was dumb of him to forget his sweater, but in his defense, it was warm in the morning! he would've been sweating on the way to school.

mark thinks if he focuses enough, he'll be able to hear the familiar continuous clicking of your pen in the background.

he again shudders, a small breath leaving his lips.

when you glances back at you, you smoothly slip your sweater from your arms and hand it over, slightly startling mark back. your face remains still, your gaze averting in an instant. "take it".

mark blinks dumbly.

you suck your teeth. "your cold, take it, you can give it back to me tomorrow".

"y/n—"

"you're not walking home cold.." you mutter, simply placing the sweater in mark's lap as you watch him again involuntarily shudder. "i'll be okay, don't worry about me".

mark wants to argue, but you leave no room for that, stubbornly crossing your arms. he takes the sweater and mutters a silent "thank you" 

a somewhat ggressive act of kindness, mark guesses that's pretty fitting for the kind of person you are.

he still tries to get you to open up, and slowly, it seems to be working.

"i know you hate snow" he comments whilst you two walk down the hallway that friday. he tightens the grip he has on his bag, a small smile on his face as he pictures the upcoming winter. your hum is a usual response, a simple sound mark has to focus to even catch. "how do you plan to survive winter?"

you snicker silently, again humming. "can't do anything but walk".

"you better have good boots".

"i have good boots, maybe not a good jacket, though".

he's about to ask for clarification when the spawn of satan decides it's his time to shine; "markie!"

mark flinches when donghyuck comes around the corner, bouncing on his heels as he makes his way over to mark. mark's loud sigh ricochets off the walls of the hallway. "that's the bane of my existence.." he mutters towards you, and you chuckle lightly.

"you're so sweet to me" donghyuck's smile is strained, but he doesn't focus all his attention on mark that often. his eyes flit over towards you, and there's immediate intrigue there. "and you must be the famous y/n!"

the volume of his voice causes for your face to strain, but you keep it all together as to not offend him. you glance everywhere before again focusing on his face, a small smile showing up on your lips. "famous is.. probably pretty dramatic".

donghyuck exchanges a knowing look with mark, who blushes and clears his throat whilst feigning ignorance at that glance. he extends his hand towards you, whistling. "well with how mark is, it seems you are".

he snickers, and mark just barely keeps himself from punching the younger. you shake your head as you too shake his hand, avoiding mark's eyes. "okay then, it's nice to meet you.."

"donghyuck".

"donghyuck, nice to meet you".

mark watches the interaction with wide eyes, his mind rushing with a flurry of thoughts. "i can't believe this is our first time meeting! it's been a while since you two became friends huh?"

friends is a weird word, but you don't exactly comment on it. "yeah, mark has mentioned you before he just never said your name".

mark blows a breath between his lips, unaware of why his anxieties are suddenly rising. you glance at him, practically sensing the presence of his anxiety. mark almost jumps, but he manages to keep himself together. "i have to get home early, i'll see you monday".

you don't exactly seem sure of those words, but your smile makes it all look fine. "it was nice meeting you donghyuck".

the other only hums, you two exchanging smiles as you begin your way down the hallway, smile dropping once you get a wise distance away from them.

mark keeps the silence before donghyuck pipes up; "isn't he cute?"

mark chokes on his own spit, his face noticeably scrunching up as he glances in his childhood friends direction. "what?"

"don't tell me you've never thought it before" donghyuck snickers, affectionately nudging mark as an uncertain smile tugs at his lips.

"i haven't! you're so.. strange".

donghyuck narrows his eyes, clearly he doesn't believe such words. "okay mark, i'll believe that for your own sake".

and mark can't register why he assumes he's lying, donghyuck is just crazy.

donghyuck is just crazy.

OKAY, NOW THAT IT'S BEEN MENTIONED, MARK can't exactly stop thinking about it. donghyuck can be so stupid sometimes, but maybe it's somewhat justified. he never really took the time to focus on your facial features in specific, and he guesses that laying awake at three in the morning is the perfect time to focus on them. mark noticed everything, nose freckles, moles, the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lips, your dark brown irises, he usually picks off the physical traits of those he's meeting for the first time with stark detail in his own mind. he really never did think about it, but now he has all the time too.

are you cute? mark's eyes stick to the photos decorating his walls, the figures shrouded in darkness without the light of the sun permeating through the window aiding in producing the shin they so clearly require.

yeah, you are. mark isn't over admitting when he finds a guy cute, you can easily be described as such. there's something about the flicker of your eyes that entices him, but that's just.. strange.

he opts to rolling over, staring at his alarm clock nestled onto the bedside table. being kept up because you're stuck pondering about whether you're friend not friend is cute is absolutely idiotic. since when has this happened before?

that question is also idiotic, it hasn't.

he pulls the covers over him and nuzzles against his pillow, feigning ignorance to his flurry of thoughts with a sigh as he keeps the pattern of your moles pictured in his head.

thanksgiving breezes past just as it always does every year, donghyuck's family again comes over for the festivities ('festivities' equaling the sharing of meals while the two scarf down pretty much everything in the kitchen), but mark stays unfocused even with a bunch of people other than you around him.

then the end of november speed runs until mark's face scrunches at the upcoming first day of december.

december is too cold, there's no foresight of ice on the ground, no snow ready to sneak up on everybody just yet, but he doesn't care, he can already feel the grimace ready to be painted over his features.

and as the cold breeze balls up it's fist into an open punch, mark takes a small breath;

you said you hate winter.

mark gets it, but it's less of you hating winter and more of mark constantly thinking of.. well— you.

again, he doesn't exactly need to take history, the class is as useless to his academic record as it is interesting, but mark won't continue complaining, he's terrified mrs. lim can secretly read his mind.

"what class are you taking next semester?" mark whispers, leaning back in his seat as the widening of his eyes is in tune with his complete interest.

your shoulders rise in a puzzled shrug, the familiar drag of your pen now right in mark's ear. you don't make an effort to glance upward, but mark is aware you're paying adequate attention anyway. "not sure, they always tell me after, what are you taking?"

mark decides to completely scoot backward, the crack of knuckles causing for your face to scrunch. "computer programming".

there's a beam in your eyes. "as a senior?"

mark's snicker is a result of your tone. "it's for last minute credits, just like this class.."

"ah".

you again engross yourself in whatever it is you're doing in your notebook, mark attempts to sneak a glance, but you seem to sense his eyes, as you flip the page upward where his eyes can't meet it.

well shit, you caught him.

yet you don't mutter a single word about the event which just transpired, you simply continue with the similar drag of your pen.

at this point, the sound is a puzzling solacing noise for mark. he'll never utter such words loudly though, it's strange to admit that the sound of someone drawing in their notebook has become a sense of comfort for you.

mark sometimes wonders how deep the corners of his mind expand. "finals week is coming up".

you hum in reply, nodding your head, pen seemingly having a mind of it's own. mark glances over, unable to decipher the gleam of your eyes. it could be irritation, or maybe it's satisfaction, you're confident in the strength of your brain, it doesn't seem like you would struggle.

your eyes flit up for a moment, and then you snicker for a reason completely unknown to mark. "you nervous?" he decides to quip.

another hum. "always, but i trust most of my intellect".

"you should, you're very smart".

the compliment is spontaneous, an abrupt uttering that you clearly weren't expecting, as heat coils against your skin, the reddish tint clashing with your once vain cheeks. your lips part, the dragging of your pen subsides. you then glance away as you clear your throat, blowing smoke through your lips.

"i'm sure you'll be fine" mark finally finishes, big eyes bugging out as he decides to avert his gaze. "don't give me that look, i've observed, you have one of the highest grades in the class".

"it's all just.. nothing".

mark decides to snicker. "not nothing, you have the ability".

"i guess i'll take your word for it" tease lingers on your tongue. "smartest kid in class after all".

there, now you two are even. you just complimented mark with words that he hears from people everywhere, but hearing them from you is what gets a stupid smile out of him. "oh.. well i don't know about that one".

mark tucks a strand behind his ear, the slightest bit of meekness displayed by his eyes. your eyes flitter upward, and the curve of your lips is satisfying. "yeah you do, you're smart, honor roll smart".

"i would say you're the same".

you long to take those words as a challenge, mark notices a certain burning in your eyes, but you opt to a small smile instead. "not enough for honors".

"well i think so".

and maybe, that's the only thing that matters. your face appears to light up, but you decide it's best to not comment on such a thing.

as the colder days approach, mark learns even more about you he doesn't exactly expect.

and it all comes through smoking.

"what?"

you seem amused by the inquiry asked of you, and mark's eyes widen in their usual jolted fashion, his hands clutching at his sides. you seem to look through him, humor still present in your tone as you reply; "did you just.. you smoke?"

mark clears his throat, eyes immediately averting, his gaze zeroing in on the visible air he can see being blown through his lips. "it's like a— um, anxiety tick thing, sometimes when i get overwhelmed it helps".

you bite into your cheek, shoving a hand into your pocket as you rummage for a while, pulling out a lighter which you shake in air, listening to the clinking of the metal. mark's eyes again bug out, a usual reaction for him, his expression reminiscent of a child hearing someone swear for the first time. "oh.. so you smoke?"

you pass the lighter, whistling in the air as you nod. "yeah, same thing really, it's not regular or anything i just sometimes need to let go".

mark longs to ask why, and you practically read his mind with the words displayed all over his face. "my parents are such amazing stressors, it'd be a shock if i didn't smoke at this point".

he can only stare, blowing smoke out from his lips as he watches it form in front of him. "it gets bad for me during exam season, finals get to my head and i can't resist".

"your parents don't know?"

mark shakes his head rapidly back and forth, a snicker falling from his lips. "nope, i think they would kill me if they found out.. can't let them know".

you opt to once again humming, shoving the lighter back in your pocket as your nose scrunches. you scratch behind your ear, howling winds earning the slightest shiver from you. "ah, i see".

mark keeps himself silent, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stares forward, his eyes then falling to the ground. it's bare, empty, the sight of snow may meet his eyes in the coming days, maybe tomorrow even, the weather has always been know as unpredictable, a snowstorm could happen tonight, mark is afraid of that one.

"please don't tell anyone" mark whispers, eyes still cast downward. it's embarrassing, not even donghyuck knows that he does, and he's sure donghyuck is a smoker himself. he isn't exactly sure why.. he just knows what the reaction would be. "it's.. um, i don't know actually, feels like everyone thinks of me as a certain person so if they were to find out—"

"i won't tell" you state immediately, raising your pinky. "you have my word" is your next collection of words, mark blinks at you with shining eyes.

a pinky promise? he isn't sure what he expected, but he guesses they are the closest thing to a legally binding agreement.

mark intertwines his pinky with yours, the clash of your fingers together something of a prospect. your finger is rough, his are soft, he can't help but keep that fact tucked away in his mind. "pinky swear?"

"pinky swear".

mark decides he will take your word for it.

he supposes pinky swears do a lot for people, as long as the promise isn't broken, he won't have a reason as to not trust you.

IT'S A WEEK BEFORE FINALS WHEN MARK REALIZES yet another thing he doesn't exactly mean to discover. your simply.. esteemed love for thai food is a prospect he didn't exactly expect, but with a week until finals and the end of the year breathing down your neck, he guesses learning more about you is the right way to go. he wonders if there'll be many more turns to take in the future, he wonders how much truly runs through your heads. through picking your nails and raising eyebrows, he's already been able to decipher a lot, maybe he could just learn more if..

"do you know any good thai restaurants nearby?" he inquires, arms placed idly as he again admires your side profile. you hum, scratching at the sleeves of your sweater. it's a pretty one, the hue is a dark red, mark is curious on if the shades of red are your favorite, he forgets to ask.

your snort is short. "not in this town, it's a distance away from here, used to go regularly as a kid, it'll never get old.."

"so it's like.. a place of comfort?"

"basically" you reply, getting comfortable in your chair. it's the midway point of the period, the class is doing nothing but studying for finals next week, it leaves room for flurries of conversations mark otherwise wouldn't have been able to have with you.

it's nice, discussions flow a little easier between you two now that you've gotten slightly closer. though skepticism remains at an all time high (mark picks up on the mutters you occasionally let slip about your parents, something along the lines of fighting, loose funds, substances, his eyebrows keep furrowed), mark finds the now regular talks a fond juncture.

he rests his head onto his fist, scratching at his jaw with mid length nails. "when was your last visit?"

you shrug despite clearly knowing your response, arms coming to fold over your chest. "i haven't gone since high school began, makes sense because that's when i got put with.. them".

'them' equating to your current foster parents, mark unconsciously slides downward in his seat, anxiety rising. he observes the twitching of your left eye, a sight almost frightening.

"do you— um.. can you go again?"

your right eye closes, a sign of your contemplation. "they're.. my parents, they're crazy".

"have you never attempted to sneak?"

you chuckle, seemingly amused. "really? sneaking? i would've never thought that from you".

"i took part a few times, you could thank donghyuck for that one" mark keeps his head leaned sideways, it's easy to admire your features in this manner. you have a nice side profile, the left of your jaw perfectly highlighted in the lighting of the room. your lips curve upward at the reply, enjoyment behind your eyes.

"oh, i see, you're that kind of pair".

mark longs to figure out the meaning of those words, but you once again begin whistling, arms folding over your chest.

a specific question keeps echoing in mark's mind.

"you could.. uh— why don't we go together?"

you blink, dumbfounded. you study mark for a moment, and he suddenly feels unconscious under your gaze. you then silently snicker, just the slightest bit amused. "what?"

his hands find purchase on the desk before him, eyes avoiding yours, throat clearing. "um.. i just— i don't know, you seem to be fond of the place, wouldn't visiting be nice?"

your eyes narrow. "you're so.. wow, okay".

you chuckle, hiding your oncoming expression behind the cover of your own hands. mark remains anxious at the lack of a reply, nails coming to scratch at his hands. "is that a no?"

"no, no! you're just.. too sweet" you opt to reply, laughter carrying you through. mark feels heat coil over his cheeks, he's sure that it may manifest in color which permeates his skin, but he can't exactly think about that.

"oh, um— i.."

"while i would love to go" you begin, smoothing your hands over your jeans. "that's implying i have to sneak out".

oh, mark can't believe how dangerously impulsive he is.

but instead of a snark, you smile, it's small, yet it results in genuine ease sinking into mark's anxiety ridden heart, his hands coming to clasp together. "that was a dumb thing to say right? i'm sorry, forget i even said anything".

you contemplate for a moment, mark's anxiety again rising as your silence merely continues. "that's a good idea, it'd be nice to go before it starts snowing".

mark almost dies, was that just a yes?

you seemingly read his mind, because your lips do a swift upturn. "i guess i wouldn't mind sneaking out".

mark blinks, attempting to properly register the words without looking like a crazy person. "i didn't— i mean.. you don't have to, i don't want to get you in trouble, if it does—"

"doesn't matter" you cross your arms, leaning back in your seat. "at this point, getting grounded is a blessing for me, it's not that far a walk".

"are you sure?"

you lick your teeth. "i've been conditioned to hide my money better, they barely pay any attention to me".

mark digests the depression littering those words, but you keep up appearances, preventing the dejection from blossoming up in your features. there's shy disappointment behind your eyes, yet you don't comment. "i'm sorry.."

your head snaps in his direction rather quickly. "for what?"

mark shakes his head in reply. "i.. um—"

"don't apologize for something that isn't your fault".

mark bites his tongue before he allows for another apology to slip, your eyebrow raise simply enough to shut him up. you remain the slightest bit terrifying, even after established friendship. "can't help it.."

he picks at his nails, feeling the burning sensation of your eyes on the spot. he guesses his anxiety is really that permeable, and he longs to change the topic. "let's just hope the grades are good, yeah?"

"are you saying you wanna be study buddies?"

"i mean.. that's sort of how our relationship began" one click to your pen, mark tilts his head at the sight of your notebook. it's a simple hardcover, no label, a blank dark shade, yet it seems to carry a large entailing of significance, just like the pen, it has to contain something of an emotional connection to you, maybe, similarly to mark, you form attachments to even the smallest of things.

the use of the word 'relationship' earns a puzzling manner of expression, as if you have to rethink how you two interacted before the establishment of.. your now larger bond.

"that's cute".

you again open your notebook, yet another click to your pen as you begin.. something. mark has never been courageous enough to inquire about it to you, but he assumes there's some length of artistic expression in your personality, or maybe you just really enjoy writing, or you just scribble back and forth. really, mark can't assume what he doesn't know, and maybe you just don't want to divulge such a thing, he doesn't mind.

he simply observes, staring for long enough that you catch sight of it through your peripheral vision. "you'll do well, alright?"

you glance over at him, as if puzzled by the sudden reassurance. mark almost worries that you'll punch him in the face, his mind really needs to stop going down that route. "alright, let's hope you give me your luck".

MARK IS SURE HE COULD PERFECTLY RECITE EVERY SINGLE printed word in the several textbooks he's been staring at with nothing but pure disgruntlement for these past few days. there's a flurry of muddled information swirling around in his brain, he's afraid he might be taking a history quiz and begin scribbling down the formula of quotient entities. the many trigonometry equations have begun rotting him from the inside out, you've practically been an angel of a study buddy for these past few days, even despite the many whispers you let slip about you sleeping through pretty much all of trigonometry. you have strikingly straight notations, not even a letter out of place, penned compositions littering each page.

he can barely help the upturn of his lips.

"didn't you take trig last year? you're supposed to remember these things".

mark keeps his forehead pressed to the desk, the cool air just barely disturbing him. "trig is pretty much useless, math isn't my strong suit".

your eyebrows furrow. "you still got an a".

mark scoffs. "wow, thanks for supporting me with my endless struggle".

your chuckles now appear much more vibrant, some timidity remains, but it's better than how it all was in september, the change jumps out to mark, you're just so—

"you sound defeated, don't worry mark, you're still honor roll smart".

his heart constricts for a moment, and while he would usually be worried he was experiencing some length of a health risk, he knows it isn't that (but he guesses you could result in a heart attack, you're simply very..), but he can never be too sure.

your handwriting is irritatingly neat, nothing of an observable mistake despite pen clearly being used. is it the same pen? do you keep pens? do you like pens? his intrigue towards you could extend for miles, but he lets it stay inward no matter what.

your eyes gleam with the light of an indescribable entity. "do you.. would you still want to go out to eat on friday?"

mark blinks, contemplating despite the very much known answer. "yeah, i brought it up, if it makes you happy.."

"well you should also think about yourself, if you don't want to go—"

"no, no! i do" mark unfortunately can't arise much excuses for his sudden enthusiasm. he notices the amusement on your own features, but he doesn't make a comment. "besides, we won't see much of each other next week, and then the break will come right after".

winter break is usually its own blessing in mark's eyes, but there's this strange installment of fear this year. he isn't sure the extent your parents go, no signs of anything physical that he can see, yet he worries about you just having to be there for a length of almost two weeks. from what he's observed, school seems to be your only source of escape from whatever goes on at home, and he's aware that a student's safe place being school is typically a bad sign.

but maybe that's too much to just tell you right off the bat, you might think he's crazy, you probably already think he's a little crazy.

"aww, you're gonna miss me".

and mark is unsure of why, but a red hue strikes his formerly vain skin, it's simply mindless teasing, yet he can't help his flustered nature. jesus, he might actually have a heart attack, why did the room suddenly spike in temperature?

if you notice, you make no comment. oh that must've been a good ego boost.

"yeah um.. we've really come a long way since september".

he's sounding a little too sentimental, a break really is nothing, mark guesses donghyuck was right, he does care way too much, even so, he feels it's justified. you stare for a moment, scribbling something in your notebook as your gaze averts. "thanks for not giving up on me, even if i was an unbearable asshole in the beginning".

"don't say that" mark softly chides.

"it's pretty true, you can admit it".

he clears his throat, smile displayed. "so are you gonna come to me friday?"

you nod. "if i don't get caught".

mark doesn't mean to showcase his anxiety in the manner of his expression switch, but hiding his lingering fright has proven him extremely difficult, his mother said it's 'detrimental' to commit such an act.

you tilt your head. "are you okay?"

mark nods much too quickly, rendered somewhat speechless. "fine".

the rest of the day is surprisingly less awkward than he expects.

the week completely exhausts mark, he could probably hang onto his own eye bags at this point. though you feign bright normalcy, it's obvious that you're just as tired, you'll both be wiped out after finals.

yet you seem pretty lighthearted.

"you sure walking is just fine?"

"we could hop the train".

a small frown tugs at mark's lips, but the joke isn't exactly distasteful. "i've never gotten that far" the overcast sky clashes with your dark jacket, it's somewhat of a picturesque image, your best features are explicitly highlighted, even with the shadowed sunlight.

"really? i did once in eighth, the conductor let us off at the middle of nowhere, we got a terrible scolding after that one".

mark's eyebrows furrow, there's a lack of context in that reply, as if you said it to yourself instead of to mark. "us?"

your nose scrunches for a minute. "old foster friend, i used to do everything to get in trouble, he'd tag along for the adventure of it".

"oh".

mark doesn't mean to extend the silence, but talking isn't anything of an accord to you, it's easy to sink into a fit of silence, nothing of a bother.

things appear so young and innocuous outside, sometimes mark believes that nature could be the perfect picture of innocence, if it didn't also harbor an equal opportunity of available danger. he shivers, almost slipping on ice which lays dormant on the floor, no snow yet.

mark wishes he could have not a care in the world, and judging by your circumstances, you clearly do too.

the place is a way's walk, but mark guesses it was good to get in some steps. it appears pretty homely, somewhat aged, the walls are cracked, tiles exposed, and from the captured glimpse of the menus, they're old laminated ones.

you stare with fondness, the smell bringing a sense of warmth to you, as if the place healed your scars. "basically, this place is my home".

"is the food up to par?"

"you don't even have to ask".

mark chuckles, and you can't resist your own corresponding chuckle.

"y/n? is that you?"

at the call of your name you blink, smiling right away. it's an older woman, early fifties probably, her jaw hanging in a manner of recognition. "oh you're so big now!"

"hi mrs. saeng" you don't step away, instead you allow for her to fully embrace you, mark simply observing. "sorry, i know last time i said my next visit would be soon".

"oh it doesn't matter, you're still so adorable!" she squeals as she cups your cheeks, completely rendering you speechless. "and your friend is..?"

"mark" you just barely speak through the squeezing of your cheeks. "he's my classmate".

the woman smiles, a huge, homely smile that strikes comfort mark wasn't exactly expecting. his hands come to clasp in front of him, the typical sweet smile taking over his features. "hi, it's nice to meet you".

she gapes in her spot. "he's even cuter than you! oh my goodness look at his cheeks!"

your nose scrunches up in offense, yet it's clearly feigned. "cuter than me? that's rude to say auntie!"

she crazily fawns before you sit, and as you observe the laminated menus which appear on their last lives, your lips take an upturn, but not at a specific thing, simply at them. "auntie?" he inquires.

you snicker. "there's no relation, she's just an old family friend".

auntie by association, mark guessed that one, he again didn't recognize any sort of relation between you two.

and really, it seems you haven't eaten in a while, mark can't help but observe the tiny things. "did you have breakfast this morning?"

you pause, pretending you are genuinely contemplating something. he's pretty sure you burn your tongue midway through inhaling the bouts of food, yet that seems to be the last of your worries, he can't help the goofy laughter which escapes him at that. "it upsets my stomach".

mark doesn't bother inquiring about lunch, his gaze immediately softening. "you need to make sure you always eat, okay?"

you stare, mark supposes the words appear a bit shallow. sometimes people can barely get out of bed, not even able to roll over to throw off their covers, or fold their blankets, or they find themselves rendered so exhausted that mundane tasks extract so much energy.

but it seems you reply with a soft gaze of your own, radiance carrying your expression. "okay".

mark hums, leaning back in his seat. "so what is this place to you?"

you don't even glance upward. "special spot, it holds good memories, from way before everything that's happened.. well— happened".

"you brought me to your special spot, so i'm special?"

you finally do spare a glance, your smile is one of the prettiest sights ever. "of course".

a smile blossoms over his features, his posture unconsciously straightening. he isn't sure why the news excites him so much, he'll internalize it though.

WHEN IT GETS TO A CERTAIN POINT, MARK IS UNSURE OF HOW HE LIVES through the week. he has always prided himself on his intelligence, it isn't the topics which perturb him, it's the extent of his own mind. his eyes grow heavier with each passing day, his wrists may have gone limp, but he doesn't pass out just yet, a good record in comparison to last year. it's simply exam after exam after exam, blue pen marks clashing in the visions of his dreams. he can't even close his eyes without seeing muddled geometric equations, he's going to begin reciting them in the startling mumbles midway through one of his sleepwalking episodes. it's a miracle how he makes it through finals week, but he does, possibly no bad markings.

the exams happen to be the least of his issues though, throughout his week, he was mainly stuck on christmas, specifically stuck on christmas gifts, specially stuck on christmas gifts for you.

again, you two only have one double period class together, and the week is full of packet after packet, nothing of a technical interaction going down. the somewhat date-y nature of your restaurant outing comforted him through the piercing manner of trigonometry, he guesses it's pretty funny.

mark's mind reverts back to the many moments of you scribbling with your pen in your notebook, the specific mini sketches you have kept placed beside your trig notations, and it becomes clear what he should get you as a gift.

when the week finally comes to a close, mark is simply glad that he's alive, glad that the information didn't all mix into mush, glad that he got a seemingly perfect gift for you.

"okay, how do you think you did?"

a scrunch of your nose is the opted response, but you don't seem any worried. "it should all be fine, i think all the information seeped into my brain".

the reply draws a chuckle, mark allowing for his head to tip downward. "you're probably the reason i passed, have some faith in yourself".

"hey, you have to give yourself some credit too, you're pretty much a genius".

mark, again, blushes. he doesn't mean for it all to shine through, he simply can't help it. you're much too sweet, even through your whispered compliments, terms shyly spilling from your lips while your head remains downturned.

it's.. cute.

you begin picking at your nails, clearing your throat. mark smiles at you; "thanks, but i really couldn't have done it without you".

you definitely want to argue with that, but your mouth plops shut, your eyes darting away. "i'm so fucking tired".

"maybe you should sleep through this break".

you giggle at that one, eyes seemingly getting heavier. "sleeping is really all i can do anyway",

mark hums, attempting to inconspicuously eye the box he carried all around the day. he pays a few glances between before taking in a huge breath, a breath which you causes the furrow of your brows. "um.. uh— okay, don't freak out".

apparently those words do a lot, as you let out possibly the loudest laugh ever since you two became friends. something about his delivery possibly, the amusement manifests in your movement, much less in your laughter. "are you gonna pull out a gun or something?"

mark frowns, true annoyance in naught. "no, i just have a gift for you and i don't—"

your laughter comes to an immediate stop, head tilting sideways, puzzled. "you.. what?"

mark blanks for a moment, the words disappearing into the air. "christmas is coming up, i uh.. you know we won't see each other during christmas, so i got you something".

you blink, dumbfounded, absolutely staggered, as if the act is terribly unheard of. you almost appear terrified, a callback to the moment where you called mark a weirdo for his regard when your knuckles were aptly split.

you're sending him one of those looks.

"why would you— did you spend your own money why would you do that?"

and there's less of disbelief there, more of guilt, guilt mark can't idly place. you shouldn't feel guilty for anything, yet you seem to. "hey, it's okay, it was all in my own will, just open it".

mark is even more excited than you, sliding the completely totally cynical box over despite your insanely watchful eye. your facial muscles twitch in desperation to display your own enthusiasm, but you somehow keep it at bay.

your fingers twitch. "what is it?"

"that would ruin the surprise".

mark is very impatient, tapping his feet incessantly, fingers again coming to repeat the act in a somewhat similar rhythm. you stare down the box, possibly hoping for it to open itself. he begins getting anxious after a moment, the less than rapid unwrapping keeping a tension in the air.

you seem to want to take your time, as if fearing as creature hidden in the box. mark places his hands in his lap, gazing endlessly.

when you finally pear into it, you again tilt your head, blinking. "holy shit".

mark snickers, that has to be a good one. "yeah".

"how did you— why did you— oh my god.."

it's simple, but mark was aware it would have the desired effect. you stare downward, completely and utterly astonished, you don't expect it, of course you don't, yet the reaction is great for mark.

you're out of words for a moment, so mark decides to take that time; "i sort of observed— i mean.. i figured you liked drawing, art, saw your notebook, saw your sketches, it seemed like the perfect gift to get you".

you blink again, simply pure devotion behind your eyes, as if you were one term from confessing your love to him. it's a art set, a cute kit consisting of colored pencils, markers, and even paintbrushes, it looks.. expensive. "how much..?"

"it doesn't matter" he cuts in, clasping his hands. "i wanted to get you something".

that should be enough.

you seem to struggle with what to say, unable to find the exact words until your lips begin trembling. "thank you, i don't know how to repay you".

"you don't have to".

a frown tugs at your lips, you clearly don't like the sound of that one. "i'll get you a gift of your own after the break, don't worry".

mark's nose scrunches, but he can't argue with you, because he really does want a gift, yearns to see what it may all add up to. he clears his own throat, hands smoothing over his thighs.

"i just wanted to get you something because—"

"i know, thank you".

he can't even help staring in the manner he does, his lips taking an upturn, eyes holding remaining regard he's always known he felt.

"it's nothing".

well, mark guesses it is something, he just has to figure out what something exactly entails.

[fischerfrey]

HPMA AU; A Christmas Prince

Chapter 10: Alderly’s Past, Present, and Future

Summary: Dawn’s time in Alderly is running out, but he still has one card up his sleeve to help Quincey.

A/N: Second to last chapter. I might also include a little epilogue after Ch11, but we’ll see...

Words: 2.5k

Characters:

Dawn Harvelle and Evander Alderly by @potionboy3

Beginning | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 10: Alderly’s Past, Present, and Future

Olympia helped Dawn sneak back into the palace. She had suggested going through her father’s papers in case they could uncover something that might help Quincey, and Dawn jumped at the chance. It was way past midnight, and Dawn felt like he might fall asleep standing.

“Got anything?” asked Olympia, sat on the floor with a bunch of old journals.

“I got excited when I saw this was a legal document,” said Dawn. “But then it was about the building regulations of fences.”

“Riveting,” said Olympia. “I’ve been introduced to the teenage angst of one Prince Edward of Alderly.”

“Oh, wow.”

“He doesn’t want to study philosophy; he wants to party.”

“Sounds like someone we know,” said Dawn.

“Yeah, except good old Eddie actually wrote this himself,” Olympia said. “Terrible handwriting.”

“Go Eddie, I guess.”

“I don’t know if these are going to be any help at all…”

“Well… If we want to prove that party boys can be kings, then that is a gold mine.”

“Yeah,” said Olympia “I remember this guy from history class... he ended up being alright. Married an ancestor of Diana's, too.”

“Ah, hey, I think I might have a perfect solution,” Dawn said, peering at Olympia over the papers he was studying. “What if you just marry Evander?”

Olympia laughed. “I don’t think the cousin thing is even as bad as the fact that’s he’s just… the worst.”

“Oh right, I wasn't even thinking about the cousin thing, I just figured you'd marry him, suffocate him in his sleep and then we could be like ‘oh look, Quincey is the next in line for the throne’.”

“Love the idea,” she said and shuffled through the journals, frustrated. Eventually she discarded them and moved on to go through another drawer in her dad’s desk.

“I have many other murder plans in store for him, if you want to hear,” offered Dawn.

“Oh please, do tell.”

“Okay, so,” started Dawn. “There’s one involving fire, symbolizing my burning hatred for the man…”

Dawn came up with several funny was of killing Evander for the next half an hour or so, while they read through boring legal document after boring legal document. Just as Dawn was about to bring up the guillotine, Olympia gasped.

“What, what is it?”

“Oh… my god, look,” she said and motioned for him to go over. Dawn did and examined the paper she had found. It was a draft addressed to parliament, suggesting the change of the marital law.

“It’s dated only a few days before father died,” said Olympia.

“Holy shit…”

“It’s only a draft, but this could help,” Olympia continued, and then spotted something that had been under the legal draft. It was an envelope, addressed to Quincey. “Father’s handwriting.”

“You can take these to the meeting tomorrow.”

“You won’t come?” asked Olympia.

“I don’t think Quincey wants me there…”

“I...”

“Olympia, I have to catch my flight because I can’t afford another ticket home.”

“I…” Olympia began. “You’re really going to leave?”

“I think I’ve caused enough trouble here, O.”

Olympia frowned. “I’m just going to miss you.”

“You can always visit,” Dawn offered.

“Careful, or I’ll come round every weekend.”

“My dad would love you.”

“You think? Even though I'm posh?”

“Well, I do.”

“I love you too,” said Olympia. “Precisely because you aren’t posh.”

Dawn smiled. “Good to know.”

“Now I think we should get some sleep if we want to make it to the meeting tomorrow.”

As they headed, out, Dawn almost tripped over the books Olympia had left lying around. He picked one up on a whim. A journal of one King Henry III of Alderly.

“Are you okay?” asked Olympia.

“Yeah… hmm…”

“What is it?”

Dawn flipped through a couple of pages. “It’s one of the journals,” he said. Olympia read over his shoulder. The page that had been lying open had contained plans to change a few laws, and that had drawn Dawn’s interest. Mostly they were about taxation and workers’ rights. But there were also more personal notes about riding trips, dinner parties with friends, and wishing the king need not have been separated from some mysterious he who wasn’t named.

“When was this?” Dawn asked, looking for a date.

“Early 1900s,” said Olympia, aptly.

“The way he writes about this man sounds…” Dawn started.

“Romantic?” Olympia finished for him.

“Why would something this just be lying around in your father’s study?”

“Maybe he had a reason,” said Olympia, eyeing the letter her father had written for Quincey.

Dawn turned a page. Stacked away on it was an old photograph of four people in Edwardian garb, holding champagne glasses. Olympia pointed out the king and Dawn turned the photo around and read: “New Year’s Eve, 1903; Henry, Primrose, Elian, and Malcolm.”

“Huh… I know three of those names. Those two were married.” said Olympia, pointing to the only woman in the photo and the tallest of the men.

“Do you think…?” Dawn started. “Maybe that last one’s our mystery man?”

“I mean…”

“As the historians would say,” Dawn started. “They were probably just really good friends.”

“Of course,” said Olympia.

“Want some light reading for bed?” asked Dawn.

“Yeah.”

Dawn handed her the book. He wasn’t crazy enough to sneak it out of the palace, but Olympia insisted he take the papers. “For safekeeping,” she said. “I don’t trust them to stay safe in the palace. You can give them back to me in the morning.”

“Alright,” Dawn agreed, but only because he’d gotten a first-hand experience of things going missing from his chambers.

They headed out. Olympia went off to create a distraction, so Dawn could get out of the palace and to the inn he was staying at.

~

The next morning, things didn’t go as planned. Olympia never showed up for their meeting outside the palace. She was supposed to get the papers and go to the meeting, while Dawn headed for the airport. Dawn suspected she had been caught by Miss Pince, or worse yet, her mother. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to give Dawn the papers, but not a way to actually get in the room the meeting was held in. Eventually he just trusted his tried-and-true method of marching in and hoping no one would stop him. They did. Then he said he had to speak with the Queen urgently, and that didn’t work either, so he tried the Prince. When that failed, he bolted and ran past the guards and to the door, opening the door with loud enough bang that every single dignitary and parliament member in the room turned to look at him with astonished expressions. Dawn didn’t have time to feel embarrassed. He saw Quincey in the room, sat at the table next to his mother. Olympia was nowhere to be found. Quincey was looking at him as he made his way to the table, stopping to stand at the end of it.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he started. “But I have some new information regarding the constitution and as the person who discovered it in the first place, I’d ask for a permission to speak.”

It was the Prime Minister, who got his mouth open first: “This is highly unusual.”

“What information?” asked the queen.

“Who let him in here?” asked a woman sitting next to Evander with a striking resemblance to the queen.

Dawn ignored her and grasped at the straw of the queen asking him directly about the information. That sort of counted as a permission to speak, did it not?

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he told her, and then cleared his throat. “Hi! I'm the shady reporter from yesterday you’ve come to know as the finder of the law we’ve all gathered here to talk about. I’ve continued my research and come across this paper,” he held the king’s petition for all to see. “It's a draft of a petition for parliament, singed by the king himself. He was planning on submitting this before his death.”

“This is outrageous,” said the woman by Evander, presumably his mother and Isabella’s sister. “Who let the reporter in here?” she demanded.

Isabella looked at her sister with an expression that, to Dawn, said: Who let you in here, bitch?

Then Quincey stood up. “Let him speak.”

The prime minister looked mostly confused. “I… fine, alright, Mr… Whoever you are. Let us see that you have.”

Quiney looked at Dawn. Dawn took the paper to the prime minister.

“I believe the king meant to have this matter handled before his death,” Dawn continued. “This might shed some light to it.”

In his other hand he was holding the letter to Quincey. “It’s addressed to you, Quince–, Your Highness.”

A palace aide came over and took the letter to Quincey, who opened it and read. Everyone waited with bated breath.

“Dawn’s right,” said Quincey. “He meant to take it to parliament but then he fell ill. He… he wished it to be repelled entirely, since such a law doesn’t really represent the needs of a modern country.”

“This document is as Mr… Dawn… said, as well,” the prime minister said. “Signed by King Stefanos.”

“Let me see that, Prime Minister,” said the Queen and took the document. “Oh…”

Evander went to see it as well. There was a low murmur in the room and Dawn took a step back.

“Yes, well, that was it from me so…” he said and then looked at Quincey who was clutching the letter from his father like a lifeline.

“Well, no, actually not. I also think that you're all bonkers if you let this stupid old law have effect on who becomes your next ruler. I came here with the expectation that I would find some irresponsible party boy, who's not fitted to be king but while getting to know prince Quentin, I've seen that he is quite the opposite of that and cares about Alderly and his responsibilities just as much as Count Evander here does. He just doesn’t make as big of a spectacle about it.”

Quincey looked back at him. Dawn couldn’t be sure, but it’s almost like he mouthed thank you. Then he turned towards the prime minister. “Let me see the draft.”

The prime minister handed it to Quincey and said: “It isn’t yet law but we can push it through parliament to respect the late king’s wishes. Only, the interregnum is over in less than twelve hours. The law allows for a coronation if the monarch has the intention of getting married within a year.”

Evander’s mother got up from the chair. “The fact remains, that the law has not been changed yet. My son is getting married. He has followed his duty.”

“Mother,” said Evander. “My engagement ended an hour ago. I wouldn’t push the law so hard right now, if I were you.”

Dawn wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He gaped at Evander.

“I believe this law has been put in place originally, to ensure a small nation’s line of succession during the Medieval period,” the prime minister said. “As it stands, I would argue that in the 2020s, it is not of as paramount importance as it was back then.”

“What do you suggest?” asked the queen.

“I suggest we take it to parliament to be considered at the earliest opportunity,” he continued. “And until then, we act… unconstitutionally.”

The room erupted into chaos. Evander’s mother was yelling. Isabella told her to shut up, Amelia, Evander massaged his temples like he was having the worst headache of his life, and the prime minister was trying, in vain, to get everyone to calm down. Dawn felt like his moment had come. With one last look at Quincey, who was looking at the letter again, he headed out.

~

The trip to the airport was a blur. He hadn’t gotten to say good-bye to Quincey or Olympia. He wasn’t even sure if the plan had worked. He wanted to go home and cry in his bed for a week. He didn’t want to go home but return to the palace and find Quincey and beg for his forgiveness. He almost called a taxi, but when he went to look for his phone in his pocket, it wasn’t there. He couldn’t find it anywhere in his luggage either. He swore and went through everything one more time. He must’ve dropped it at some point on his way to the airport, but there was no way he’d have time to retrace his steps before his flight.

“This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 89B to London, Gatwick. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you,” a loudspeaker announcement came. Dawn clutched his passport and boarding pass and headed for the gate.

Bonus: Quincey

When he finally remembered Dawn’s letter, he was sure the suit jacket was long gone to the cleaners. Returning from the meeting exhausted and after having spent an hour looking for Dawn, he’d finally gone to Olympia. Mother had, in all her kindness, locked her in her room to stop her from interfering with the proceedings. Olympia told him that Dawn’s flight had left already, but that he’d left her with his father’s address in Bristol. Phone number would have been nice, Quincey mused and wondered about the address. Then he remembered the night before, the ball, the letter Dawn had handed him. He had called it an apology. Quincey rummaged around in his room and found the jacket in question, with the letter in its pocket. He opened it with shaking hands, and read:

 “To His Quinceyness, The Star Of My Sky, Or The Reason For My Currently Crumbling Career, (which ever works the best for you love),

I have to confess something that I should have started with.

The reason for my arrival was not your sister, it was always you. I'm actually a reporter for Beat Magazine and I was sent here to write an article about your scandalous life. So far what I’ve got for my article is a selfie in front of a posh Christmas tree and some shaky pictures of children and whatever is left of a snowman. Sadly, my other material was burned down in a horrible accident and so thus ends my oh-so-successful career as a journalist. But never mind you, I didn’t much care for the job anyway.

I know you will probably hate me after finding out the truth, and while usually being the most honest person one can find (too honest, I hear), I wanted to save the last days I had with you for my own selfish reasons and decided to write to you instead. I am hoping for an angry answer letter from you in return, or maybe I’ll never hear from you again, to which I’m not as prepared as I would like to, but which would surprise me less.

I wanted you to know the real me, but I think you already do. I didn't end up lying about that many things, just my name and address. I actually live in London but will probably soon be moving back to Bristol with my dad after my boss finds out that I don’t have anything juicy to write about. I'm giving your sister my dad’s address, just in case you do want to write to me. I'd like to know what you think.

I'll also be following keenly the start of your kingly days and looking forward on seeing what the future holds for my dear Alderly. I need to hurry to your coronation ball now, so I’ll have to cut this short. The truth is that in the process of discovering the truth about you, I may have fallen in love with you instead.

Dawn Harvelle (not whatever the last name was).”

 Quincey sat on his bed and finally let himself cry.

Tag list:

@lifeofkaze​​ @gcldensnitch​​ @magicallymalted​​ @endlessly-cursed​

[kuroopaisen]

heart attack || bokuto koutarou

➵ your hot roommate likes to walk around without his shirt on. 

wc: 2.8k

warnings: implied f!reader, swearing, pure chaos

a/n: @stelleum jac darling, happy birthday! i tried writing you shipfic but i chickened out and wrote this instead (mayhaps i’ll finish the bkak fic one day, but for now it will sit in my drafts hh). i’ve already wished you a happy birthday so i won’t write you an essay here (although i’m fully capable of it), but i love you, and i’m so grateful to be counted amongst your friends. you bring such light and laughter with you, and i honestly feel like i’ve learnt a lot from being your friend. i hope you find this fic delightfully chaotic (just like you), and that it manages to make you smile a little -- you deserve nothing less (also big shout out to remy and ren for reading over this disaster fdsljk)

“he’s doing it again.”

“huh?” oikawa’s voice crackles from the other end of the phone.

“he’s walking around the house shirtless.”

it takes oikawa a few seconds to catch up. “oh, right. your hot roommate.”

you two have had this conversation many a time over the past two weeks. you’d quickly surmised that bokuto koutarou would be the death of you. probably by heart attack. oikawa had found that idea stupid.

“what do i do?” you ask, chewing on your lip.

“you could always ask him out.”

you scoff at the absolute certainty in his voice. “how dare you assume i wouldn’t shrivel up and die if i so much as attempted that?”

you don’t need to see your best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. “why would you shrivel up and die?”

“what if he says no?”

“he’s not going to say no.”

“but he could.”

“you’re hot, it’ll be fine.”

“but you haven’t seen him, tooru,” you huff, waving off his assurances like they’re nothing. “pictures don’t do him justice.”

“i can’t believe you’re an adult…” oikawa sighs.

“you’re one to talk.”

“at least i can talk to people i find attractive,” he grumbles.

“he’s going to be a professional volleyball player,” you stress. “you know what they’re built like.”

“you were friends with us all throughout high school, and yet i don’t remember you ever talking about any of us like this.”

“the only one of you worth talking about is iwaizumi.”

a moment of silence. “that’s fair.”

“anyway, that’s all besides the point,” you grumble.

“do the other guys know about this?” he asks. you don’t like the playfulness in his voice.

“as a matter of fact, they don’t.”

“why not?”

“if i told them, they’d meddle,” you stress. “directly.”

“you can’t stop me from telling them.” you can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

“i’ll block your number and never speak to you again.”

oikawa doesn’t need time to decide that it’s a viable and realistic threat.

“wait, are you hiding in your room again?” he asks.

“duh.” you roll your eyes. “i wouldn’t be talking about this in the living room, would i?”

---

meanwhile, bokuto’s sitting on the couch, quite shirtless as he twiddles his thumbs.

when kuroo had first told him that the best way to win his roommate’s heart was to ‘just walk around shirtless,’ bokuto had been a bit doubtful.

of course, kuroo hadn’t won the heart of his partner by walking around shirtless, but boukto was loath to completely disregard his friend’s advice. he does, after all, have a partner, so perhaps following his advice isn’t the worst idea.

but you’d scurried into your room almost immediately upon catching sight of him, and bokuto fears that he’s frightened you.

he likes to consider you friends. sometimes you’ll watch movies with him -- on occasion, you’ll even commit to a full anime series (even though he needs you to explain what’s actually going on half the time) -- and there’s a certain ease of conversation between the two of you. in his mind, it’s only natural that he should develop a little bit of a crush. 

unfortunately that line of common sense didn’t follow through to the next step of actually asking you out. 

---

your sheer embarrassment goes head-to-head with your insatiable hunger and loses.

you peek through a crack in your door, trying to ensure that the hallway was clear. perhaps you could survive seeing him in the front room, but an encounter in your cramped little hallway was bound to end in humiliation.

you manage to skitter into the kitchen quietly, every one of your senses on high alert for the enemy (see: bokuto koutarou’s god-like body). 

you spy the back of his head on the couch from your new vantage point. if you’re quiet enough, chances are he won’t notice that you’re in the kitchen. if the universe really gave a damn about you, then it would let you be invisible for a few seconds. 

“hey!” bokuto calls from the couch, holding a hand up.

“hey,” you mumble as you make an active effort not to look at him. damn him and his masterfully sculpted biceps. they’re almost enough to make iwaizumi jealous. almost.

you dash over to your pantry, opening it up and rifling through a couple shelves. you don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stand around and cook a proper meal right now, so the next best thing is instant ramen.

“whatcha looking for?”

you almost shed your skin in fright.

there’s a warmth hovering over you, and you’re far too aware of what it is.

“something to eat.” you can only hope that those words came out legibly.

“oh, yeah, there’s not really much,” he shrugs, tilting his head at you.

you’re still not looking at him. has he done something wrong?

“ah,” is all you can muster in response.

“did you want to order in?” bokuto asks, a certain lightness to his voice. it’s similar to the tone he uses when he wants to pick what you guys watch on a saturday night.

“uh—” oh no. “i—i don’t—um—”

what are you trying to say? you don’t know. bokuto has no chance of deciphering it.

but, he simply beams at you. “i’ll pay!”

sure, he has more money in his bank than you could ever dream of having – damn professional athletes and their egregious pay checks – but you still don’t want him to pay for you.  

“it’s okay,” you manage to say, holding up a hand to wave it off. 

you don’t expect him to take said hand. 

“please, let me treat you,” he grins. “as a thanks for helping me out with the bills last week.”

ah. that’s right. bokuto may be a sports star in the making, but he’s horribly lacking in the common sense most people rely on to make it through the day. 

“okay.” 

it’s very hard to say no to him when he’s looking at you like that, with his golden eyes all big and round and his fluffy hair falling around his face. damn him. 

you let him fiddle away with one of the delivery apps – you admittedly aren’t paying much attention to what he’s ordering – and entertain yourself with the bare walls of your kitchen. 

maybe you could sneak back to your room until dinner came? 

“how was your day?” bokuto asks brightly, effectively trapping you in a conversation. 

shit. 

“uh– fine?” you swallow. “my lectures felt like they wouldn’t end, but i survived.” 

“good thing you did,” he beams, tilting his head at you. 

you blush, trying to ignore just how handsome he is. “how was practice?” 

sure, you want to turn your tail and run, but you really don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“it was good!” he grins. “tsum-tsum’s been less annoyed with me recently!”

“oh, that’s great!” you mean it. from what you’ve heard about his team, this ‘tsum-tsum’ seems like he’s the sort of person who’s hard to keep up with. 

“he almost gave me a compliment today,” bokuto said, voice brimming with pride. 

“really?” ‘tsum-tsum’ doesn’t seem like the type to give compliments, but bokuto always has a way of seeing the best in things. 

“yeah! he said my cross-court shot wasn’t half-bad!” 

you’re not quite sure if that counts as a compliment, but you won’t pop his bubble. 

“and omi didn’t flinch as much when i patted him on the back, either,” bokuto nods. 

“do you still use that hand sanitiser i gave you?” it had been a mindless little gift, one you’d bought after finding out he works with a germaphobe, but you are curious nonetheless. 

“of course!” bokuto nods enthusiastically. “it’s my lucky charm.” 

your breath catches in your throat. does he not understand what saying something like that could do to a person? especially when it’s coming from the world’s best himbo? what are you even supposed to say to that?

for the first time today, the universe takes pity on you. 

there’s a loud knock on the door. 

bokuto perks up. “i’ll get it!” 

“wait!” you call out instinctively.

bokuto pouts at you over his shoulder, frozen mid-stride.

“you’re shirtless.”

bokuto blinks at you for a moment. “is that a problem?”

three more brain cells stop fighting the good fight and perish. “no?” you frown. “yes?” he’s staring at you. “maybe?”

he’s still staring, a unique concoction of confusion, earnestness and disappointment in his eyes.

“it’s… a lot,” is all you manage to sew together.

“a lot?”

“you’re… a lot.”

“i’m a lot?” bokuto looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be upset by that statement or not.

“yes… muscles.” it’s official. you want to die. there’s no coming back from this.

bokuto glances down at his chest for a moment, a perplexed expression on his face. well, he is beefier than most, and none of his teammates are quite as built…

“just let me get it,” you breathe, well-aware of just how red your face is. after what is bound to be a horribly awkward dinner, you’d need to hop online and look for a new place to live.

you take a deep breath as you open the door, hoping, praying that this exchange, at least, would go smoothly.

you freeze as you look at the delivery boy’s face.

no way.

“holy shit,” makki grins, eyes crinkled and red cap slightly askew.

“no.” this is the last thing you need right now.

“this is where you live?” he asks, trying to pop his head through the doorway.

“uh—” you push him back instinctively, mustering up all your strength to budge the headstrong six foot asshole currently trying to force his way into your apartment.

he freezes, and you know the worst has happened.

“is that your roommate?” he asks, taking a step back with an infuriating grin on his face. “or are you getting some?”

“oh my god makki, i’m going to—”

“do you know this guy?” bokuto’s suddenly behind you, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side.

“unfortunately,” you mumble, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. if makki catches even a hint of weakness, he’d press at it relentlessly.

you look him up and down, frowning. “i thought you were working at a tech shop or something.”

he shrugs. “i lied.”

“why?”

“i dunno,” he says, as if lying about your part-time job is the most casual thing in the world. “it sounded more impressive than ‘delivery boy’.”

it’s not like you expected any more from him, but even this feels a little strange.

bokuto’s stomach grumbles from behind you. you remember that he’s right there – and makki’s staring at him.

“why is he shirtless?” makki tilts his head to the side. “who is he?”

“my roommate,” you admit through your teeth.

makki stares at him for a few seconds more, a smirk spreading across his face. “is this why you won’t let us come over to your apartment?”

change of plans. time to pencil in a murder for seven o’clock. after your scheduled self-implosion, which is bound to happen any moment now.

“give me my food.”

“not until you answer my question,” makki grins, holding the takeout bag above your head. damn him and his height.

you glare at him, fists clenched at your sides. “i won’t hesitate and you know it.”

the threat of a knee to the balls is usually enough to make any man quiver. but not makki.

“really?” he smirks. “in front of your hot roommate?”

“i’m going to kill you—”

“i can’t believe you’ve been keeping him from us,” makki tsks, holding out a hand to bokuto. “nice to meet you. i’m a friend from high school.”

bokuto shakes his hand tentatively, a bit behind on exactly what’s going on here.

“and you are?” maki asks, a disgustingly sweet smile on his face.

“bokuto.”

“nice,” makki nods, looking him up and down. you know this will be immediately reported in the group chat. you’re never going to live this down. and, makki now knows where you live. you expect that you’re going to get some unwanted visitors very, very soon.

“get out of here,” you grumble, taking full advantage of makki’s distracted gaze and grabbing the bag out of his hand.

“hey!”

“have a nice night!” you call, pushing him out of your doorway with one hand. “i’ll leave you a bad review!”

“no, don’t—”

the door slams in his face, and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in the past ten minutes.

that is until you remember that bokuto’s standing right behind you. 

“should we eat?” he asks, a little too close to your ear than you would like. 

you flinch, taking a step forward. your nose presses against your front door and you curse every conceivable deity that comes to mind. 

“yes,” you nod, lightly banging your head on the door. perhaps it’s what you deserve. 

“okay,” bokuto says slowly, as if he’s not sure about what to do next. “i’ll get some plates.” 

you take a moment to catch your breath. all you have to do is make it through, what? the next twenty minutes? surely you could manage that. surely. 

bokuto’s already over by the couch, two plates in hand, and still very, very shirtless. that’s the reason everything’s gone tits up today. because he wouldn’t constrain his pectorals behind a thin wall of blended cotton. 

but you sit yourself down on the couch after unpacking your food on the coffee table. you sit yourself down on the couch, unsure if you can find the strength to start eating. 

bokuto plops himself down next to you. it’s almost like he’s vibrating with excitement. why does he have to be so damn hot and cute?

the two of you sit on the couch in total silence. 

bokuto stares at you. you make a pointed effort to look anywhere that isn’t him. 

“are you okay?” he asks, a genuine pout on his face. 

“can you… can you put a shirt on?” it feels a bit like an admission, or some kind of surrender, but this has gone on too long. 

“oh, okay.” bokuto hops up, watching you for a moment before dashing off. 

once he’s out of sight, you sigh, resting your head in your hands. what is going on? when you’d gotten back from university, you hadn’t expected the day to go like this. 

bokuto reappears out the corner of your eye, now modestly covered with a white shirt. it’s almost worse, honestly – the shirt really compliments his tan. 

“are you okay!?” his voice pitches as he moves towards you, placing a hand on your back. 

you flinch, dropping your hands from your face and closing your eyes. “yeah, i just…” honestly it feels a bit like you’re in purgatory. but that might sound a little dark. “it’s just been a weird night.” 

“i’m sorry.” you can’t see bokuto’s frown, but you hear it in his voice. 

you finally brave a proper look at him. somehow, his hair looks more deflated than usual. 

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he specifies, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“uh–” you swallow roughly, unsure of where to go with this. “thanks? i guess?” 

bokuto pouts at you, his gaze flicking down to the floor. “i was just trying to impress you.” 

every single thought skids to a stop. what? what? he was walking around shirtless because he was trying to impress you? well, it worked, but he probably didn’t expect it to leave you speechless. 

“you… were trying to impress me?” the words feel strange coming from your mouth, but you manage to meet his eyes. 

“yeah,” he nods, his own cheeks darkening. it’s nice to know that the embarrassment isn’t one-sided. “my friend told me it was the best way to win you over.”

whoever this friend is, you intend to have a very stern word with them.

“you could just… ask me out,” you blink at him, unsure of how to proceed. 

“i could?”

“yeah?”

“would you have said yes?”

“i–” you clear your throat, breaking eye contact. “i guess?”

“so… that’s a yes?”

“yes?” 

bokuto stares at you, cheeks even redder than before and mouth slightly agape. 

“what?” you stare back at him. is he broken? has his brain finally given up too? 

“do you wanna go on a date?”

“i–” it’s your turn to have your mouth hang slightly agape. 

“please?” he asks, eyes going round and sad. 

“sure,” you blink. you? bokuto? a date? when? how? what–

“woo-hoo!” bokuto cheers, pumping his fists in the air. “alright!” 

oh man, this boy is definitely going to be the death of you. probably by heart attack. but, maybe that’s not the worst fate. 

[solcheeky]

our secret

summary: fratboy!donghyuck turns paperboy! when he needs some extra money for college stuff like textbooks. he thinks delivering way outside of campus will save face from being a measly paperboy, but little does he know, the front yard light he hits (and breaks) belongs to his significantly well off classmate... (3k)

warnings: strong language here and there genre: enemies to ..friends? a/n: I’ve merged these two requests together! meaning I have and haven’t included aspects of each, hope that’s okay! (2021 edit: hi I found this in my drafts from last year and idk why I never posted it so yeah, here we go)

“You’re late.” Your professor calls out as Donghyuck fails to sneak into lecture hall unnoticed

You sigh, you’d think he’d at least look ashamed to step foot into class at such a late time

You suppose with Lee Donghyuck, things were always different

The boy winces comically, inhaling between his teeth brazenly, and students stifle their laughter

Then with a simple raise of his hand, he gestures a flimsy ‘my bad’ and a ‘continue, continue’ before charmingly wiping the sweat off his brow and sitting in the empty seat saved by his friends

The professor frowns, “you’re late.” He repeats as if to encourage the young rebel to at least say something

“I’m Haechan,” the rebel says under his breath, flopping his backpack onto the desk, “not ‘late’” a sarcastic smile stretching his lips as his friends snicker at his dumb joke

You roll your eyes, he was unbelievable.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” The professor claps his hands. “And Mr. Late,” he emphasizes, “don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

So he drops it on him like a bomb: “For the rest of this week, meet me in the office an hour before classes start.”

The grin on Donghyuck’s face immediately wipes off his face and his heart drops to his stomach

“Prof!” He whines back

Karma, you think. That’s what he gets for being so up his own ass

It wouldn’t kill him to wake up a little bit earlier. He relied so much on his ‘so loveable’ personality and popularity, you couldn’t stand it

If you even attempted to do half the things he got away with, you’d be expelled by now

You drop your pen and lean back into your seat with a sigh, you had no choice but to sit back and watch him waste valuable lesson time over this insolence

“You can’t do that!” Seriously, Donghyuck would do anything else other than doing extra hours in the morning

“And you can’t be late to my lectures all the time. What are you not getting here Mr. Late?”

“But I can’t.” Donghyuck immediately regrets saying that out loud like that; the vulnerability in his voice a little too close to home

“And, why not?” Your professor bounces back thankfully brushing past the genuine desperation in his students voice

The reason why not was something ‘Lee Haechan’ couldn’t say out loud. If he did, he’d lose everything

So instead, he sticks with his usual tongue-in-cheek mannerism, “because I don’t want to.”—A sneaky beat around the bush on his part because, little did everyone know, Lee Haechan, the star player and everyone’s favorite goofball, was a measly paperboy

Why?

Because he was dumb broke.

It was a job that required him waking up extra early to race around neighborhoods on his bike, something he had to do regardless rain or sun just tossing as many papers onto people's front porches,

Something he already was finding so much of a difficulty doing: racing to class and acting as if his muscles weren’t burning or the fabric under is backpack wasn’t drenched in sweat

But now this ‘meet me in the office an hour earlier than classes start’ bullshit

That would mean he’d have to wake up even earlier than he already did!

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, you’re going to.” Is the last thing your professor says on that topic before swiftly moving on.

Oh to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is what he always thinks as he cycles his rounds in the wealthy neighborhood

If there was one thing he didn’t have, it was this. 

He looks at the blaringly affluent homes that surrounded him and heaves another sigh, the same road he rides every morning (and now this extra early morning) effortlessly reminding him of how absolutely poor his ass was

Grumbling under his breath in a tantrum about his professor in his head, he angrily hurls newspapers onto doorsteps

It was the fact that he had to deal with this at ungodly hours in the morning—as if this job wasn’t already enough

Donghyuck frustratedly hurls another newspaper, but this time around, it shoots straight into someone's front garden post light, knocking it over and completely disrupting the perfect order in which the other trail of foot lights were set in

What the heck?

Immediately, he hits the breaks, his tires screeching loudly in the quietness of the early morning

Profanities frantically leave his lips as he hurriedly drops his bike onto the sidewalk in a clatter, and runs ahead to see the damage he’s made

The lamp was perfectly struck to its side.

Well, that’s just great—he can’t afford college textbooks let alone the broken path lamp on some rich persons lawn

So, his first thoughts are to pull it back into the place, completely irrational, but it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he’s on a time crunch to get off private property

Except, the damn thing is stuck; literally cemented into this lopsided tilt

Man, Donghyuck swears he could tug all day and it wouldn’t get back into place

It was like the universe was having fun being against him

You, on the other hand, were watching this boy struggle to fix your light back into place from the comfort of your window.

He looked ridiculously cute trying to tug that lamp back into place, curled almost into a ball in the middle of your lawn, his eyebrows sewn into a line of frustration and lips pursed

You knew he was your paperboy from the start of his laborious cycling trips, but did Donghyuck know he was delivering papers to his very own classmate every morning?

You guess not.

...Until now

You knock three times from behind the glass, successfully capturing the boy's attention before mouthing, “what are you doing?”

The agitation on his features drops and immediately his eyes widen at your familiar face

Except, he isn’t given much time to reply before the lamp between his fingers gives in to his weight and recoils back smacking him right in the nose

“Holy shit!” You forget you’re only in socks when you open your front door and race towards him

Donghyuck automatically drops the (now broken) piece of your lawn to cup his bruising face

“Ah- Fucking shit- Ow!” He bends forwards on his knees into the grass, forehead pressing into your lawn before he rocks back up again to scrunch a deep frown up towards the sky. “Jesus-”

“Are you okay?!” Dropping to your knees, you place a cautious hand to his back

“Yes.” He groans into his palms, rocking back down towards the grass again

He definitely wasn’t.

But he needed to get out of there quick; there’s no way he’d let you recognize him

Yeah, you weren’t that stupid.

“Let me see,” you carefully bring him up by his shoulders, your head leaning down towards his to see the damage

“No- Ow! Crap-”

“You’re bleeding!” You try to pry at his wrists but he rips away from your hands

That’s when Donghyuck finally looks up to scowl at you; a frown stitched hard into into his forehead, eyes watering, hair all ruffled, but most alarmingly—a scarlet ribbon of blood running down his wrists

“I’m okay.” He muffles into his hands.

And wow did he look like an idiot.

“Sorry about your-” 

“Jesus Hyuck, you’re not fooling anyone.”

The boy visibly stiffens at your choice of his name

“Haechan.” You quickly correct yourself

He gulps

You glance away

“Let’s just put an ice-pack on that.” Then you’re dragging him into your house

“Quit moving!” You dab a wet cloth across the cut above Donghyuck’s lip

“Well, it hurts.” He tries to complain without moving his mouth too much

You purse your lips and Donghyuck attempts to adjust the ice pack on his nose despite your warning

With a sigh, you take his wrist and bring his arm down to his lap, “Hyuck, if you keep-” you feel him stiffen under your touch. “Haechan.” You keep doing that. “Sorry.”

He just diverts his eyes elsewhere and mumbles, “It’s whatever.” under his breath

So, you bring your attention back to cleaning his cut, your cheeks heating up at the thought of how much of a creep you probably were by calling him by his old name

“I’m-”

“Y/n.” His voice was a little clearer this time, a soft frown on his face, “I remember.”

He kind of wished you didn’t though. This was so embarrassing.

You pull the cloth away from his reddening cheeks, that annoyed flustered look on his face pulling at the nostalgia in you

It was only natural to call him ‘Hyuck’ because you had been going to the same school as him for years

Ever since you were kids, through highschool and now somehow, still impossibly in college, you’ve been with him

You almost had every class with the loud idiot back when he was still ‘Donghyuck’

For as long as you could remember, he had always been the center of gravity in every class, his punchy personality and almost too friendly way of speaking easily giving him the ‘popular’ tag 

It made you have a bit of a crush on him when you were younger, but who didn’t? 

Now, you found him irritating. 

The only thought you had about him consisted of wishing he’d stop using his status to his advantage and just come to class right instead of wasting your lesson time

“Can I ask you something?” He dodges your hand for a second, eyes looking down as if to hide away his embarrassment 

“Sure,” you naturally reach forward again to dab his cut, but he stops you at the wrist

“Can you,” you lift your focus away from his lip to the slight grimace on his face, “not tell anyone about this?”

You blink at him, and a muscle works in his jaw

“Seriously, people can’t know about this.” 

But you simply pull your wrist out of his grip and go back to tending to his wound

You hadn’t told anyone since you’d found he was your paperboy, and that was weeks ago. So why was he so worked up?

Hadn’t the situation already called for it anyway? Who in their right mind would tell anyone after this? For you, it was obviously common courtesy

But before you can reply, he tilts his face into your line of vision. “Are you listening to me?” The frown on his face deepens and he instantly brings the ice pack in this hand over his face at the sudden pain through his nose

That attitude of his easily drove you crazy.

“That was a stupid question.” You give up on cleaning the blood on his lip and push the ice-pack deeper into his face, “if you used that stupid, egotistical brain of yours-”

“Ah! Ow- Ooow-”

“Maybe you’d realize I’ve never told anyone about your paper rounds before.”

“Ow!” He wrenches away from your frustrated grip, the look on his face just as annoyed as you. “You’re going to break my nose!” 

“You broke my yard lamp!”

He looks at you with a huff; a slight puff to his reddened cheeks, furrowed brows and tears ever so slightly brimming his eyes

If that lamp didn’t cost about five times the price of his bike he’d say something back.

You easily read that off his expression

“You don’t have to pay for it.” You start to pack up the first-aid kit you’d opened up on your coffee table just to not look at him in the eyes when you say that

As much as he irritated you, you weren’t that petty

“Really?” The genuine doubt in his face relaxing the annoyance in you a little

“Yeah.” Money wasn’t a problem for you, it was his attitude

But the casualness Donghyuck catches in your tone reminds him of the starkly different worlds you live in

So he musters it up within himself to at least show some kind of gratitude, “...Thanks.” 

And it’s almost inaudible when he says it under his breath like that

But you catch it as you pull a bandaid out of the box before you close it

“On one condition.” You turn to look at him dead in the eyes.

One of his brows slightly quirk up in interest

“Hand.”

He opens his palm to you and you purposely slap the bandaid into it.

“Stop coming late to class, you’re wasting everyone's time.”

Instantly, his jaw goes slack. 

Unable to say anything he stares as you rise from your seat in content, first aid kit in hand, before walking behind the sofa towards the kitchen

You didn’t have to say it like that.

He swings an elbow over the back of the couch, “Sorry for bringing you the paper every morning!” Maybe he was a little offended

You turn on your heels to face him, noticing the bandaid now crushed in the fist of the hand he had over the couch and ice-pack abandoned on the coffee table (the full glory of his bruising nose and cut lip on show)

“I said ‘don’t be late’ not ‘don’t bring me the paper’.” Then you disappear into the kitchen.

Donghyuck has to close his eyes for a second, exhaling a frustrated sigh before standing up in a huff and following your footsteps.

How could you say something so insensitive? Yeah, maybe he broke your lamp or whatever, but he tried to fix it!

And sure, he was sort of bleeding over your couch and used your ice pack, but he totally said thanks

“That’s just- You’re so,” He’s standing at the doorway by the time you’re done, bandaid still stuck in the frustrated grip of his hand

“So what, Hyuck?”

Seeing the all star, team favorite class clown crumble at the simple play of his old nickname made something in your stirr

“Insufferable.” 

You? Your lips turn up in amusement. He was the insufferable one, you almost scoff

“You and your big house, fancy first aid kit, stupid lamps on your lawn,” he takes a bold step forward at every reason until he’s one step to being chest to chest, “I’m just trying to do my job, and go to class.”

You look at him straight in the eyes. “Well, you’re hardly succeeding at either of those.”  

You...

Donghyuck runs his tongue across his inner cheek before biting down on his bottom lip in a brazen attempt to act unfazed by that fatal side comment

A coppery, metal taste pricks his tongue, and he realizes he’s reopened up the cut on his lip again

But that was the least of his worries. You had no idea what it was like being broke. If there was anything he didn’t have, it was everything you did. You probably couldn’t even fathom the type of shit he’s had to go through and even more so: hide.

The way you acted as if his biggest problem in life was as easy as brushing the dust of his shoulder just pissed him off.

“Have you ever thought of waking up earlier?” 

Ah, there it was again, Donghyuck wants to roll his eyes

“I sleep late.” He says dryly.

“Then sleep earlier.”

“I have other shit to do, like study.” 

“Then, manage your time better.” If he really wanted to ‘do his job’ and ‘get to class’, he could’ve done it by now.

He was always messing about with friends and organizing parties, stories spread around like wildfire on campus about the things he occupied himself with other than ‘having shit to do like studying’, you weren’t stupid

It was by the end of high school, when you began to see him as a person who valued himself with the amount of friends knew or the amount of partying he did

And at first you were mad that he had the things you never did, but seeing him easily get washed up by it all made you think maybe you didn’t need what he had

Now you figure his ego was so far up his ass he couldn’t even sit right—that’s probably why he couldn’t cycle to class on time

“And don’t use your bike, you’re clearly slow on it.” You tack on.

“I don’t even have a car!” He snaps back

He made you want to pull out your own hair. “Jeez, first this, then that, god Hyuck, you keep-”

“You say that as if it were so easy,” his words overlapping yours as you continue

“-making up so much bullshit because the only thing you really put effort into is your image,” Your words running over his too.

“-if I could get a car, don’t you think I’d have one already?”

“Then I’ll just take you!” That puts both of you to a stop.

“So, quit giving me stupid excuses to ruin my lectures every day.” If the things money could buy were what he needed, you had it

You snatch the bandaid out of his fist, rip it open and harshly stick it across his bottom lip. It was annoying to see him ignore it like that.

“You usually finish an hour before class right?” You frown up at him

Donghyuck opens his mouth then closes it again.

“Because if you reroute and make me the last house, I’ll take you with me by car.”

“What?” He manages to say. What the hell just happened?

a/n: okay so there was a lot more to the story and character development but it ran too long I had to cut it off bc I cba to edit lmao 

also I seemed to have gone way out of the request lines near the end my bad my bad, but I at least hope you’ve enjoyed it! thoughts???? a part 2?

[peggyrose19]

Amnesia

Hehe. You knew it was coming :) I have no regrets. More Harvard FinnLo angst. This is not an amnesia fic, as the title may suggest, but rather a song fic based off Amnesia by 5SOS. Companion fic to Bablyon, which you can read here if you’d like. Characters as always by @lumosinlove <3

Also, I tried so hard to proofread this and it just did not work. So... oops?

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt the way you tasted

When he felt particularly self-deprecating, Logan would drive. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes the night became too dark and the house became too bright and he needed to get away from it all. Sometimes remembering Finn hurt too much. 

He would drive in circles, no real direction, just burning time and miles. His mind would take him unwittingly to all the places he associated with Logan, as if reminding him of all he used to have. The coffee shop they frequented each morning. The pizza place two doors down they always went to Fridays after practice. The library they always ended up at whenever Finn had a test. The bar they frequented with the team after a win. The rink they spent most of their days. 

Logan would drive by every place that broke his heart and wonder where they had gone wrong. Wonder if they had just talked, if they had stopped for one moment, if Finn would still be his. Wonder if he ever truly had him. 

When he really felt bad for himself, Logan would head to the frat house where they had kissed for the first time. It had unlocked something in him, feeling Finn’s lips against his. All night he had watched girls touching Finn and kissing him, wanting him for nothing more than his body. And Logan suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore.

Those nights he would go home with tears in his eyes to find their dorm room exactly the way Finn left it. His stuff was gone, and so was he, but his presence remained. On those nights Logan would get in his bed and cry, remembering their last kiss the night before Finn left him, curled in this tiny twin bed together, Finn begging for his forgiveness.

Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all 

“Hey, Fish,” Logan’s voice came through the phone. He sounded normal. It hit Finn like a truck.

“Hey.” Finn swallowed hard, throat tight. He and Logan had only talked a few times in the month since he’d left for Gryffindor. With so many practices, he had little time to himself these days. 

“How’s the team?” Logan always asked that, these days. Finn was getting kind of sick of the question. He didn’t say that though.

“Good. They’re good. It’s all… it’s all good.” It wasn’t but Logan didn’t need to know that.

Finn could hear his smile as Logan said, “I’m happy for you.” He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake Logan, get him to stop sounding so happy and chipper all the time, get rid of that stupid endearing accent, thicker since he’d gotten home for the summer. 

It felt sometimes like nothing had ever happened between them. Sometimes Finn wondered if he’d just dreamed it, Logan’s lips against his, their bodies pressed together, the emotions swelling in his heart. He wondered if they’d ever meant anything at all. Hearing Logan sound so normal was just the final nail in the coffin. 

“Hey, Lo, I gotta go,” Finn said, interrupting the story Logan was telling him about an old teammate. He wasn’t sure he could sit here anymore and pretend everything was fine. “My uh, my mom’s calling. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “Yeah, okay. Say hi for me.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line clicked and went dead. Finn put his phone down and cried.

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made 

Logan could see it clearly when he closed his eyes. He could hear the silence closing in around him, the shakiness in Finn’s voice, the ringing of a cell phone. He saw it all in reverse, standing in the middle of their old dorm room. 

“What-” Finn’s voice was shaking as he hung up the phone. Logan watched him, curiosity and dread fighting in his mind.

“Who was that?” Logan asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Finn swallowed hard. “I’ve been drafted to the Gryffindor Lions.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Finn, that’s incredible!” Logan launched himself at his best friend, pulling him into a hug. 

“Yeah, I can’t… I can’t really believe it.” He let out a laugh. “I mean… me? Playing pro? Can you imagine?”

“Of course I can. Fish. You’re gonna do amazing, I know it.”

“It means I’m leaving.” 

The elation drained from the room. 

“Well… not for a little while, right?” Logan asked hesitantly.

Finn shrugged. “Pretty soon.”  

“Finn, I-” Logan opened his mouth, searching for the right words. But he found nothing. There was nothing left to say. 

Something painful twisted in Logan’s chest as he watched Finn pull away. It was too soon, far too soon. 

“Lo.” The familiar voice shook him from his thoughts. He looked up at Finn, who was staring at him with sad eyes. 

He sighed, “Finn, don’t look at me like that.”

“I don’t-” he shook his head. “Please be happy for me?”

“Fuck, Harz, of course I’m happy for you. You’re in the NHL now. It’s what we’ve always dreamed about, remember? Going pro? It just also means you’re leaving.”

“Logan…” He looked up at Finn again and there were tears in his brown eyes.

“Finn, don’t-” Logan stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again. Finn was still looking at him. “C’mere,” he muttered, and hugged Finn again. Despite the height difference, Finn buried his face in Logan’s shoulder, holding him tight. 

Logan remembered all the times Finn had held him, after a win on the ice, late nights out when he got drunk and couldn’t walk straight, early mornings getting coffee before either was fully awake. He remembered all the dreams Finn had whispered into his ear when they’d climb up to the roof after everyone was asleep, about going pro, meeting their idols. About one day writing a book, maybe on hockey, a true literature nerd to his core. And once, when Finn was drunk and exhausted, a future of them, together. 

It seemed Finn’s dream was coming true.

One of them at least.

They never talked about those nights after. It left Logan to his skewed memories of Finn’s words, his delirious confessions to the stars. All those dreams he shared that he never seemed to remember. It was like Finn didn’t need them anymore, didn’t need him. He was a thing of the past, a part of a bigger story. They still talked, sure. But it was different. Finn wasn’t there anymore. And there was no breaching that gap. 

So Logan kept the memories and the promises to himself. He went to class, he did his homework, he talked to friends. He worked hard at practice and he called Finn and he buried deep the yearning in his heart. And he pretended it didn’t cut him to the bone.

 The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone

I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone

Finn’s home screen was a picture Logan had taken, that Finn didn’t have the heart to change, no matter how much it hurt anytime he looked at it. It was of the two of them, one morning after practice, cheeks flushed and smiles wide. Finn couldn’t remember now why they’d taken the picture, just the hours he’d spent staring at it, Logan’s smile and bright eyes and mussed up hair. 

He kept hoping he’d feel better the longer he looked at it, as if it would bring Logan back to his side. It never worked, in fact it did the opposite. All it did was widen the yawning cavern in his chest. He just felt alone, staring at their smiles. And he was alone. He was all alone in a different city and a foreign hotel room and a new team. 

So Finn looked at pictures of the two of them, of when his world still had stability, and ignored the pain they brought. He pushed it down, the loneliness and regret. Pretended he wasn’t missing Logan like crazy, like it wasn’t a bullet to his heart each time. 

He wanted Logan back.

 It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

Finn seemed fine. He sounded tired, perhaps a little lonely, but overall fine. So why did Logan feel like such a mess? Why did he struggle to get up in the morning, the bags under his eyes growing darker as he fought back tears anytime he was reminded of Finn. Why did it feel like nothing had ever happened at all? 

As the call connected, Logan took a breath. He knew Finn didn’t have a lot of time, knew he would have to go soon. He pretended to himself his call wasn’t timed on purpose.

“Hey Fish,” he said as brightly as he could manage. Finn replied, voice steady. Logan didn’t know what to say after that, wasn’t sure what you asked the boy you were crushing on when he was hundreds of miles away. 

It hurt, knowing seemed so okay after everything. He wasn’t sure what was true and what was a lie anymore. He could still remember Finn’s choked-off breaths that first conversation after he’d left. Logan had pretended he couldn’t hear Finn’s cries, pretended everything was fine. He hadn’t known what else to say.

Maybe neither of them was fine.  

“Hey, Lo, I gotta go,” Finn said, breaking through Logan’s thoughts. He had been talking, although now he wasn’t sure what he’d been saying. 

Logan said goodbye quietly, Finn’s voice still ringing in his ears as he hung up the phone. Oh how he wished the pain would fade. 

 If today I woke up with you right beside me

Like all of this was just some twisted dream

I'd hold you closer than I ever did before

And you'd never slip away

Logan hadn’t realized all he’d had until suddenly Finn was gone from his side. He didn’t realize how much he loved him until he was no longer by his side, making him laugh and leveling him out. He missed him. He loved him.

And he wished he hadn’t wasted it all out of fear. He wished he’d had the courage to realize what he wanted, to reach out and grab it. He wished Finn would come back. He wished he could just wake up and Finn would be by his side once more. 

Except he wasn’t sure what he’d do when he saw Finn again. Pretend nothing between them had happened, nothing had changed? Or would he hold him close and whisper in his ear all the words he’d never said before. He wanted him close, he knew that. Wanted it so bad he didn’t know what to do with himself. But he knew, he knew no matter what happened, he would never let Finn slip away. 

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

Finn slumped onto the couch of his hotel room, feeling the loneliness creeping in again now that he was alone. It was just him these days, the homesickness finding him each night, the newness wearing off now three months in. Some days he wished he would wake up and he’d be back at Harvard, the familiar sounds of the city and the frat house surrounding him, Logan lying in the bed beside him. 

Finn grabbed for his phone, finding in between the cushions, and unlocked it. A moment later he hadn’t moved, staring unseeingly at the bright screen. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been looking for in the first place. 

His home screen was a picture Logan had taken, that Finn didn’t have the heart to change, no matter how much it hurt anytime he looked at it. It was of the two of them, one morning after practice, cheeks flushed and smiles wide. Finn couldn’t remember now why they’d taken the picture, just the hours he’d spent staring at it, Logan’s smile and bright eyes and mussed up hair.

Logan. 

At the heart of everything lay Logan. A constant presence in Finn’s mind, always there, always hovering at the edge of his thoughts. He never left, not really. Every little thing Finn did Logan somehow crept in. Every memory, every store, every play on the ice was tainted with Logan, unavoidable no matter how hard Finn tried. Even lying in bed at night, he could remember his last morning in Boston, pressed against Logan as he fought tears in the early-morning heat. 

Some days Finn wished he could go back there. Go back to the late nights and early mornings, hard practices and too-sweet coffee, his best friend by his side. He wanted to go back and tell Logan, tell him how he felt. Tell him that he wanted him, damn the consequences, damn the pain. He was already in pain. He was tired of it. He wanted him. 

Some days Finn wished he didn’t remember him at all

 I'm not fine at all

No, I'm really not fine at all

Tell me this is just a dream

'Cause I'm really not fine at all

[kithtaehyung]

heyyyy ryen :3

i'm doing pretty good right now actually!! i got a stress ball for work and holy shit it works?? i've been squishing it on and off for the past few hours and my stress in comparison to days when i did not have it is amazingly small

stress balls work, who knew

i'm about to start the last few weeks of one of my college classes, we had a test last thursday so i didn't have any homework over the weekend which was really nice

i am in the middle of moving in with my in-laws right now, we've gotta be out of our current apartment by the end of the month, but so far that's going pretty okay too~~ and my in-laws are super super nice (it was my sister-in-law that got me into bts) so i'm totally down for this

still have that reblog of 3tan5 sitting in my drafts, i promise i will get to it!! i just have so much i wanna say and so little words to express myself with and also i might need to reread it again but i'm not complaining about that

and!! one of my international army friends is flying in for the vegas concert this weekend - i'm really happy that you got to go and only a tiny bit jealous - and then she's spending the next few days after the concert with me!! so i am super duper stoked about that, like, cannot fucking wait, almost more excited about seeing her than the ptd concerts (i will be at home, live streaming it as i have done every concert so far)

and then finally, i've started slowly working on my own writing again. i haven't updated since the very end of last year and i've felt so bad but life shit happens and this chapter has been a general pain in the ass up until recently - but!! the writing has started trickling in again!! and i am so happy about it!!

tl;dr: i am doing really damn good right now, at least today, and i wanted to share some of that goodness that i am and your recent post i guess gave me the opportunity to do so~~

i leave you with this picture of a smiley kim taehyung that i found on pinterest :3

JAYYY oh my gosh this is a whole lot that you’re up to! Stress balls are very very good. Those and the fidget cubes are the desk items I recommend! As far as the class situation goes, good luck and you’re almost done🥺

AHHHH all the bts people in your life! that’s so cute.. i’m actually super stoked for you to see your friend, as well🥳 and RIGHT i was actually really excited to meet some ppl here as much as (if not more) than the boys lmfao🤣 everyone is just so lovely!

WRITING?? oh gosh that is always a feat! always ride those waves of inspiration as they come, and it’s okay to have extended periods of rest. you’re okay!

Always feel free to share your wins. I love hearing about them! I was just out and about all of yesterday so I’m finally able to respond now aksksd but I’m so happy for you🥺🤍

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

What are ur tilda hcs?

Okay im finally gonna answer this!! Thank you so much for asking!!! I love receiving asks and I love sharing my headcanons. Sorry again it's so late ❤❤❤

This isn't gonna be nearly as well worded and eloquent as I originally planned. The first time I wrote it it basically became a drabble about her life. And then I lost that whole draft. Lmao

I just don't have it in me to recreate that whole thing again but I still wanna share my headcanons about her because I do have a lot!

I also wanna say this is in no way to like... excuse her behavior or try and redeem her. She was a terrible person. But people aren't born terrible. And I like taking 2 dimensional fictional women and making them make sense. So this isn't to excuse but instead to explain? I guess?

cw for all the shit you expect with the minyards by now, but specifically drug addiction and statutory rape. Also this is LONG so its going under a cut.

So first of all, I imagine her and Luther as being half siblings. Their father was a preacher or something- someone with a big role in their church's community and a big reputation of being a reliable, wise, holy man.

When Luther was maybe around 3 years old, there was this teenage girl in the congregation who would often come to Mr. Hemmick for advice, guidance, comfort, etc. She didn't quite fit in in school, wasn't great at academics and struggled to keep up with her siblings achievements, and was overall going through a lot of the turmoil thats unfortunately common for teenagers.

So she, like many people in the congregation, went to Mr Hemmick for guidance and ended up seeing a lot of him. She felt listened to and believed in with him. She felt like he treated her as more mature than the way her family treated her. She trusted him. He abused that.

If you asked her at the time, she would have said it was consensual between them. But she was 16. And when she became pregnant, he turned on her REAL fast lemme tell you. He made her promise not to tell anyone that he was the father, and he only told his wife. And of course, when he told his wife, he talked at length about how this 16 year old girl tempted him to sin; how he regretted it and only hoped she could learn to truly find God.

So he took the child in upon being born as a way to "attone" for what he'd done, but the whole community (not knowing he was the father) just saw it as an act of good will. And of course he'd tout off a lot in his sermons about how he'd be able to give the baby a much better, holier lifestyle than a teenager who turned her back on god by having sex.

So he and his wife end up raising Tilda from birth, but they make sure she knows from the beginning the circumstances of her birth. They drill it into her that her mother was a dirty sinner and that she herself is tainted as a result. She is raised always feeling like she needs to be twice as good to even be considered half as good as her brother in her parents eyes.

Naturally, she stops trying pretty early. In middle school, I imaging her being one of those bullies. The really nasty ones who get violent at their victims for even looking at them wrong. Idk about anyone else, but in my schools growing up the fights between the girls were always way bloodier than the ones between the guys. And I imagine those as the types of fights she got in- especially when one of her victims decides to stand up for themselves by throwing her own baggage back in her face.

By high school, she was thoroughly committed to the role of problem child. She would do everything she could to upset her family and get herself into shit. She'd do drugs, skip classes, show up to school drunk, stay out late, etc. In addition to all this, she would purposefully find whatever guy seemed like the most trouble and take him home. Whether this was the school drug dealer, a boy who got expelled for some rough shit, or college boys who caught her eye at parties.

So she's basically dug this hole for herself where she's committed to actually being the child of sin that her family has always seen her as anyway. The few people who tried to reach out to her wouldn't get far. She would push and push at them to see how far she could stretch their patience (to see how long it took them to give up on her like everyone else).

She even had one teacher who never did give up on her. But she outright told Tilda that she can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. Those words would ring in Tildas ears for years to come, even if she never found it in herself to put the concept into action.

So eventually she'd graduate- just barely because she rarely put in effort in school- and she'd be left to suddenly have to find a place in the world when she previously never even thought she'd have a future. She started batting heads with her family even more (which no one thought was possible at that point) but it became less antagonistic on her end. She was still a shit stirrer, don't get me wrong. But she was getting tired. The fights were less about her being intentionally aggrevating and aggressive and more about her continuously being unable to live up to their expectations.

Luther already had a promising job as a cop at this point, meanwhile she was still living at home and bouncing between jobs that barely kept her afloat and boyfriends that barely made her feel worth something. She'd gotten into drugs in high school, and the habit only got worse now that she was out. It was the only thing that made her feel something other than misery or numbness. She could lose herself in the drugs and the boyfriends and the late nights out. She would come home to see her parents less and less and would speak to them only when absolutely necessary.

Eventually Mr. Hemmick died fairly young (heart attack or something equally as tragic. Whatever I dont care about him enough to pick the details) and his wife followed soon after by suicide. The house was left to Luther, who moved back in immediately and said there'd be changes in the household. He basically told Tilda to quit the drugs and go back to church if she wanted to stay in the house. He also had other rules like keeping a job, dumping her current boyfriend, giving her a curfew, etc.

So she left. She took her shitty beat up car an ex had fixed up for her and headed to California. A friend from high school lived out that way, so that's where she headed.

During this period in her life the drugs got a lot worse. This is also when she realized that she had become addicted. Mainly this is because, even after being away from her family and having freedom, she was still miserable. She didn't know how to get through a day sober. The constant variation between numbness and misery was too much to bare, but she wasn't ready to help herself. She wasn't ready to commit to her own healing and health.

She was in and out of therapy and rehab as quickly as she'd change jobs and partners. She wouldn't commit, and as soon as she had an out she'd take it. Had to miss an appointment for scheduling? Didn't make it back to the shelter in time to claim her bed for the night? Forgot to call back one of the few people who tried to reach out? No going back.

This is my main thing with Tilda. She was a shitty person who had a shitty life. But she never found the strength and commitment in herself to put in the work to be better. She instead let herself fall further and further down the hole because it was easier than pulling herself out. Because part of her still believed deep down that she had succeeded in living up to her birthright- that she wasn't deserving of ever healing or being better.

It was in one of these rehab facilities that she met the twins' father (and this part is absolutely inspired by Luke and Joey from the haunting of hill house). He was a guy with a similar past to hers- always sure he was meant to be bad so he committed to the role and never learned to commit to anything else. The difference between them, though, was that he was ready to get better.

They became fast friends and leaned on one another a bit while in rehab. She didn't see him as anything other than a friend, but he unfortunately became set on this idea that they would heal and move forward together. She knew he had feelings for her and enabled him (she didn't love him back but had never actually felt cared for like this before). He believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself, which was a lot. Unfortunately for him, he also ended up being more committed to her healing than she was. When she eventually started spiraling again, all other feelings for him were overshadowed by the part of her that just saw an opportunity.

She took advantage of him. She slept with him, took his money while he was sleeping, and bailed to get high and never see him again. Now I'm not gonna say she was just a devil who entered this poor man's life. He saw her more as a potential for an ideal life than a person. He was more in love with the dream he had of them getting better and starting a life together than he was actually in love with her and who she was as a person. Bad match all around.

So she never saw or heard from him again. When she found out she was pregnant, she went home to Luther and his wife and son. She didn't tell him right away that she was pregnant. Instead, she pretended she was just finally ready to commit to God and turn her life around. She played the part alright for a while, went to church with them and got sober and everything, but tried to leave and move into a women's shelter when she started showing. Luther found out and brought her home.

At first he was actually super supportive- mainly because he just genuinely thought she wanted to find God and stop "living in sin". But when she finally told him she didn't plan to keep the child, he turned on her.

We know the story from there. Personally I think the night that she stole the money and ran as her point of no return. Years down the line, when she knew she was being a terrible mother and person, she'd remember that night. And she'd think to herself how this is who she was always meant to be. How she doesnt deserve to be any better than how she is. And she'd dig the hole deeper.

-----

So yeah thats my take on Tilda Minyard. Sorry it was so long. I like the idea of giving depth and complexity to female characters- even the bad guys and the ones I don't like. I have a similar lengthy life concept for Mary Hatford as well, but it isn’t nearly as long. If anyone is curious lol

Thanks again for asking!

[toutallyahoe]

Things We Need More ~ Gavin Reed (DBH)

Requested By: --

A/N: how long have I not touched dbh again? far too long apparently.

fun fact? this chapter is around seven months in my damn drafts.

and this is also my first uploaded one shot for this asshole? asdfghjjkl

anyways, here's something nice because a certain darling of mine needs something for their exams

Also, he may be an asshole but he's our asshole

─────────────────

More: warm hugs

The brunet detective let out a grunt as he flopped himself on the couch, grabbing some of the couch's cushions and groaned on it to muffle the sound while his lover merely looked at him with amused [Eye color] eyes. Arms crossed as he rosed a brow at the brunet male who just laid there.

"Okay, what happened now?" The [Hair color] haired man had asked as he uncrossed his arms and walked towards his brunet lover who let out another groan.

"Robbers... attack... child... t-that's what happened..." Gavin had said as he took the cushion away from his face and placed it on his stomach and stared blankly at the ceiling as [Hair color] haired man had sat beside the brunet's legs.

"And?" Gavin grumbled out some curses as he maneuvered himself to face his lover, rolling his eyes as he did. The brunet had stayed quiet for a bit as his mind went back to what had happened hours ago. Gavin just blankly stare at his lover who's amusement slowly diminish. After awhile of not getting an answer, [Name]'s lips formed into a frown as he looked at Gavin with worried [Eye color] eyes.

"Gavin?" [Name] softly called the brunet who slowly began to shake. Sitting up as his hands instantly found themselves on his face as he began to explain.

"There was so much fucking blood..." The brunet detective had quietly muttered to himself as he then continued. "S-so much fucking b-blood..." Gavin had muttered. [Name] furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his lover confused and worried. He couldn't understand Gavin's quiet mumblings and he was curious on why his brunet lover started to act this way.

"What? Gavin I can't hear you." The [Hair color] haired had said as Gavin began to quietly mutter again which the male, once again, did not hear. "Gavin, please I need you to speak up a bit louder."

Again, the brunet merely let out quiet mumblings to himself which frankly, slowly made the [Hair color] haired man was a bit annoyed. What was Gavin so glum about? Did Hank piss him off again?

Sighing, [Name] tried again. "Gavin, can't you speak lo--"

"THERE WAS SO MUCH FUCKING BLOOD OKAY?!?"

The brunet had snapped as he glared at his [Hair color] haired lover who seemed to be surprised from his outburst. Despite the guilt he felt on it, Gavin couldn't stop himself but let out all the pent up emotions of the day take over his thinking. "There was a fucking robbery and they left nothing but a fucking corpse of a fourteen year old boy with a bullet wound in his fucking head and a four year old girl who's skull was fucking cracked open!" Gavin had yelled as he felt the tears fell down his eyes.

"A fucking four year old [Name]! T-they fucking killed her without mercy unlike her older brother!" The brunet had shouted as his mind went back to the scene. The brunet almost vomit on seeing the young girl's corpse, face barely recognizable by her parents.

"She fucking died feeling the fucking pain of her head being bashed repeatedly on the fucking floor unlike her brother who was immediately fucking shot in the head! She fucking died suffering [Name]!" Gavin cried out to his lover. The corpses of the two too young children to die was so painful for the brunet detective. Especially the little girl's where she suffered greatly before death embraced her.

"S-she died p... painfully [Name]..." Gavin had quietly muttered as he sobbed. "S-she was too young... they were t-too young..."

[Name] could only hug his broken lover as Gavin clung onto him. Crying on his chest as the brunet had clutched his shirt. The anguished sobs of his lover made the [Hair color] haired male mutter things to comfort him.

"T... they d-didn't deserved t-this..." Gavin muyyered through his sobs as he felt his lover rubbed his back to soothe him. [Name] brought his lover closer to him as he muttered onto Gavin's neck, "I know love... I'm so sorry for you to witness this..."

"I-I couldn't e-even f... find t-the people who did this to t-them..." [Name] hugged Gavin tigher as he felt his lover shake in his arms. "Shhh, you will love. You'll find these fuckers and have them jailed..." Embracing the brunet tighter in his arms as he consoled Gavin.

More: good sleep

For the past few nights, the brunet haired male couldn't sleep. He felt a bit miserable each night he slept alone in their large bedroom without the comforting embrace and the warm body of his [Hair color] haired lover beside him. For three days or so, the [Hair color] haired man was too busy doing work and would often come home late, more so in around twelve or past two in the morning. It also doesn't help that the brunet male as that haunting scene of the case he had weeks ago was still fresh in his mind.

The brunet male let out a tired sigh as he looked at the empty space beside him where his suppose to be lover lay. Gently patting the empty space with his hand as he wished the other male was right beside him now. Gavin wanted his lover's arms wrapped around him as he get pulled closer in a warn embrace. The feeling of his [Hair color] haired lover just there, embracing him and always affectionately mutter sweet things to his ear that sometimes he felt embarrassed about. He missed [Name] dearly. But he couldn't do much but just imagine the male was there beside him.

After awhile of just mindlessly looking at the empty spot of the [Hair color] haired male, Gavin finally felt himself succumbed to the tiredness he had felt as he slept soundly. Not really noticing the door to their bedroom slowly opened for the very male he was waiting to come in.

[Name], the [Hair color] haired male had some small bags underneathe his eyes from the late shifts he was working through and despite how tired he felt, he softly smiled when he saw his brunet lover sleeping soundlessly on their shared bed.

Slowly, the man had unbuttoned his white dress shirt and putting it on an office chair they had in the room, he then proceed to take his black dress pants off and mindlessly kicked it on the floor. Going through his closet to find a grey sweatpants and a black wifebeater to wear, he then proceed to go over to sleep beside his lover.

[Name] wasn't surprised when as he laid down beside Gavin, the said man had immediately shifted and pressed himself on the [Hair color] haired man's side. The [Hair color] haired man couldn't help but smile softly as he watched his sleeping lover cuddle on him as he slowly wrapped his arms on the brunet, pressing a soft kiss on the male's head as he then closed his eyes. It didn't take long for sleep to take his conscience.

The two slept well that night as Gavin was in his lover's arms. Not a nightmare of that horrid case to be found.

More: adventures

Day offs were the best. That is where he and his [Name] could agree on, other than coffee is the best early in the morning. Gavin would spend his day off just laze around his and his lover's shared home, watch a horror movie and midlessly pet their furry baby, Donut. The fat orange tabby cat who they adopted when Gavin and [Name] moved in with each other and had decided to just sit on the house's back porch to enjoy the calm day a few years back.

Gavin was laying his head on [Name]'s lap. The [Hair color] haired man stroking and playing his brown locks. A donut in Gavin's hand as he ranted about a suspect on a case he had few days ago. Talking animatedly as [Name] looks down at him with ove in his eyes and a smile on his lips. Listening to Gavin talk and comment at times.

The two were having a peaceful time with each other when a meow was heard and before the brunet knew it, an orange blur passed by him and saw that it had took the donut in his hand. Gavin let out a cry as he immediately sat up, almost hitting his head with [Name]'s if the other man had not been startled and reeled back because of Gavin's cry and actions.

Gavin, having to sat back up and frantically tried to look at the culprit who took his donut. A bit enrage because it was his favorite one and was planning to hit whatever thing that took it-- only to see a few feet away from him and his lover was seating at, close to the fence was a tabby cat, consuming his donut.

After that, [Name] had caught the furry rascal and immediately fell inlove. The [Hair color] haired man silently pleading Gavin on taking care of the cat but the brunet didn't agreed. His reason was that the cat took his donut. His favorite and last donut.

The brunet male was ready to come inside and hopefully find another snack to eat but when he looked at [Name] who was holding the fat cat... he gaved up. He was stubborn and very against it.

Until the two-- [Name] and the cat-- pouted and gave him a pleading look. Both looks made the brunet cave in and that was when they officially had their first "baby".

A fat, lazy, furry, annoying baby who craves attention. Especially from the [Hair color] haired man. The detective swear that the cat gives him the smuggest look a cat can do when [Name] pets him and switch his attention from Gavin to Donut. Cooing and smothering the orange tabby cat with all the love and affection while Gavin silently fumed in rage as the cat-- a fucking cat had the audacity to look so smug when it looked at him while his own lover was cooing and showing affection to it.

That was where Gavin realize how much he loved yet also hated cats.

"I will call you Donut-- no [Name]. I will name this little shit rug right here. No. You forced me to adopt with this little asshole and I have the power to name him. Now, where was I? Right. I will call you Donut, because HOLY SHIT, I DO NOT FEEL LIKE SEEING YOUR DUMB SMUG LOOK ON YOUR FACE YOU FUCKING LITTLE ASSHOLE-- OH MY GOD! [NAME] LET'S THROW THIS ASSHOLE IN THE POOL!"

More: interesting conversation

It was a hot day and the two lovers stayed inside for it. Just lazying around. Gavin, again, had a day off and he just spended it with him and [Name] in the livingroom.

Gavin had taken on lounging himself on the coach and was playing away with Donut that was laying on his chest. Not really minding the tabby cat as he played with the cat's orange fur. This was one of the few occasions the cat actually lets him be affectionate to Gavin since the tabby cat mostly preferred [Name]'s attention.

Gavin's head laid on [Name]'s lap as the latter was reading on an old book. Paper books were rather rare nowadays and [Name] always loved them than the tablets. He felt like a child when he reads. Remembering back in his childhood where his parents would buy him books to read.

"Would it considered be incest if you fuck your own clone?" Gavin had abruptly said. Tone laced with boredom as he had continued to mindlessly run his fingers on Donut's fur. The cat purring, happy with the affection he was getting.

Gavin's comment made the [Hair color] haired almost choke on his spit as he had paused his reading and looked at the male.

Gavin giving him a unwavered determination on his face when he had looked at the male in the eye.

"What...?" [Name] asked, confused and rather perplexed with what his brunet lover had just said. Destroying the silence and making him ponder if Gavin finally lost his mind.

"Why... explain," the [Hair color] haired had sighed as he had placed a bookmark on the page he was reading and closed his book. Putting it down on the coffee table beside the couch as he returned to look at Gavin.

"Like... well... doesn't your clone carry your dna or some science bullshit? So, isn't that how incest works?" Gavin explained. Making some hand gestures that amuses [Name].

"Just... it is incest to fuck your clone!" Gavin had continued as he made made a face that seemed to be mix with anger and realization. "Wait... it is also kinda gay too, like, right?"

[Name] bit back a laugh threatening to leave his lips as he shake his head with Gavin rambling on about more about clones and if you would have sex with one.

"Gavin... you are gay," [Name] mused as the brunet detective send him an unamused glare when he had chuckled.

"Well, yeah I am shitlock. I am dating your dumb ass," retorded Gavin as the [Hair color] haired laughed. "What I mean is..." Gavin trailed off as he madly gestured something invisible that only seemed to see. It was amusing to [Name].

"Clones."

Leaning down toward's Gavin face, [Name] placed a soft kiss on the brunet's lips.

"Honestly, your adorable," mused [Name] as he parted and went back to his comfortable position on the couch as Gavin sputtered out incoherent words.

More: laughter

Gavin rolled his eyes as he saw [Name] play with Donut. The [Hair color] haired man and the orange tabby cat were on the floor. Donut was laying on his back, his tummy exposed to the [Hair color] haired man that [Name]'s [Skin color] hand would tickle the cat's tummy then raise it fast enough for the cat not to grabbed. [Name] laughing and enjoying his time with the feline as the cat was also enjoying aswell. Purring and meowing with content. This made Gavin a bit irritated.

"You pay more attention to that damn cat more than me," Gavin had grumbled out of a blue as he strutted towards the two as he then plopped down beside [Name] who didn't seemed to mind him.

"Oi," Gavin pouted when the [Hair color] haired man did not turn to greet him nor give a single glance to his person.

"[Name]," the brunet whine as the said man merely hummed as he played with the tabby cat. "[Name], talk to me," Gavin whine as he dragged the 'e' in the last word for higher annoyance.

"Yes, dear?" Hummed [Name] as he picked up Donut and raised it towards his eye level. The tabby cat looking at him in the eye and sticking his pink tongue. The cat's actions made [Name] chuckle as he nuzzled his nose towards the tabby cat's ones.

"Such a cute kitty you are," [Name] praised as Gavin let out a loud groan. "[Name] pay attention to me you dick," Gavin whined.

The said man did not do as what Gavin had whine which made the brunet huff in annoyance. After awhile of the [Hair color] haired cooing at the tabby cat. Gavin finally split.

"Give me the cat," the brunet had stated. [Name] seemed to pay attention now to what he says at the [Hair color] haired man turned his head away from Donut who meowed and looked at Gavin.

"What now?" Asked [Name].

"I said give me the damn cat," Gavin had commanded as he saw [Name] rolled his eyes but nevertheless, gaved the cat to the angry brunet. Placing the tabby cat gently on the brunet's hands as Gavin immediately raised it towards his eye level like [Name] did awhile ago and glared with the cat's eyes.

"You," Gavin started as Donut looked at him in eye with its own version of an annoyed glare. Clearly the cat was not hapoy to be taken away from his quality bonding tine with his [Hair color] haired owner.

"Fuck off you damn pussy-- he's fucking gay," Gavin had said.

Donut was an intelligent cat. Well, cats are more intelligent creatures that humans give them credit for. But Donut was really an intelligent one. He seemed to know what his brunet owner was saying and in return for Gavin's angry words. Donut hissed in Gavin's face and wiggled out from the brunet's hold.

Due to Donut's abruptly hissing and wiggling his body, he successfully got out of Gavin's hold which made the brunet yelp from the hissing. The tabby cat had landed in all fours as he then dashed back to [Name]. Leaping at the [Hair color] haired man's lap as the orange tabby cat then made himself comfortable there.

[Name] laughed at what he had just witnessed as he mindlessly patted the cat on his lap while he watched Gavin swear at everything.

"Mother fucking cat! Suck ass bitch like what the fuck that mother fucker--" and the curses go on and on and on that made the [Hair color] haired man laughed out more. Honestly, why was Gavin always like this? He doesn't know but he loves it.

Gavin let out a few more string of curses as he angrily glared at ther feline until he directed his glare at the laughing [Hair color] haired man. "Stop laughing dumbass," grumbled Gavin as [Name] rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Sorry but Donut really do not like you," [Name] had said as he took a quick look at the purring cat on his lap. Gavin seemed to catch his words which caused the brunet to roll his eyes.

"You think?" Gavin sarcastically had said. The [Hair color] haired man merely sent him a grin.

It took a second for Gavin to realized [Name]'s words again.

"Did you just... you..." Gavin had said as he look at the other man who sent him a beaming smile.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Gavin groaned at the joke his lover had said as he slapped his hand on his forehead. Despite it though, there was a smile on the brunet's lips.

"God, you are such a fucking dumbass," Gavin had said to the man as the other merely shrugged.

"You love this dumbass though," the [Hair color] haired commented as Gavin rolled his eyes but laughed.

"Dang right I do!" Beamed Gavin as the [Hair color] haired man shakes his head but softly smiled. Leaning towards the brunet and placed a soft kiss on Gavin's forehead.

"You are such a dork," [Name] softly said as Gavin sputtered out incoherent sentences with his surprise affection. Gavin's reaction made the [Hair color] haired man laugh again.

More: happy dances

Gavin groaned as he stiffly sat up straight. The brunet trying to fix the collar of his suit as he sent [Name] a glare when the man chuckled at his discomfort.

"Having a great time gents?" A voice piped up from behind them. Gavin didn't have to look to know it was one of his older sisters. Specifically, the one who wore a white wedding gown with a cheeky smile on her lips.

"I would if this would be fucking over," grumbled Gavin as [Name] elbowed him but sent the older female a charming smile.

"Oh course we do, Delilah," he said as Gavin rolled his eyes sister.

"When will this be over again?" Gavin asked as he saw his sister sent him a small glare but then pouted. His comment had made the [Hair color] haired man sitting beside him elbow him again. Making him grunt in pain.

"Fine, fine," grumbled Gavin. "I am having a blast with the part Del! Such a marvelous party it is, oh yes it very is!" The brunet sarcastically and dramatically had said as Delilah sent him another pout and turned to the [Hair color] haired man.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry you have to date his ass, [Name]," Delilah had said as the [Hair color] haired man shrugged.

"I'm sorry for myself too," [Name] commented which earned him an angry "hey!" from the brunet and a chuckle from the woman dressed in white.

"Anyways, off to mingle with the other guests now!" Delilah said with a clap of her hands. She send the two men smiles again and even ruffled Gavin's hair which gotten her some curses from the brunet. "Have fun you two!" She said as she walked away. Finding herself talking to another pair of people.

"Honestly," huffed Gavin as he crossed his arms on his chest. "She is still that annoying shithead of a sister," he had said.

[Name] only chuckled as he shakes his head. "You're still happy she's married though, right?"

"Not really," Gavin answered honestly which earned him a raised brow from the [Hair color] haired man. Not that he could see anyways. "I mean... that asshole better treat her right or I swear to God, he'll be framed for murder or some shit," sweared Gavin underneath his breath and the man beside him still caught it.

The [Hair color] haired merely shake his head and a fond smile on his lips as he looked at Gavin quietly grumbling uncomfortably in his seat. The two did wore some formal suits for it was Delilah's wedding. Gavin being a sibling is definitely invited while [Name] was his plus one and date. The two, of course, being lovers and all.

It was quiet-- save from the occasional grumblings from the brunet-- as two merely minded their business. Already finished eating the food that was catered by the wedding caterers and all.

After awhile, the large speakers in the area began to boom some songs. A song appropriate for a slowl dance in fact and it made Gavi perked up for a bit as he looked around. Watching how Delilah and her now-husband dancing in the middle and then some few guests aswell.

[Name] seemed to noticed his gaze on the dancers as he softly smiled. Standing up from his seat, the [Hair color] haired walked around his seat as he then offered his hand to Gavin who had looked at him with a raised brow.

"Care for a dance?" [Name] said with a charming smile that made Gavin roll his eyes but nevertheless, took the offer with his own grin.

"Let's show these motherfuckers how dancing is!" Gavin had said as he heard [Name] chuckle and helped him stand up from his seat. With hands holding, the [Hair color] haired man lead them both to the dance floor. With that, the two faced each other and placed their hands in the right order. Gavin placing one of his hand on [Name]'s shoulder while the other man placed a hand on his hips. The other hand holding each other as they looked one another in the eye. And they danced.

"You know, I thought you'd refused for a dance," [Name] confessed as Gavin sent him a small glare.

"I won't back down from this," muttered Gavin. Hearing his comment made [Name] smile.

"Well, that's good to hear... because I want to dance this song to with you," the [Hair color] had said with a smile as the bruney rolled his eyes yet a grin on his lips.

"Stop being sappy you dick," commented the brunet with a smile as [Name] laughed.

"I will if you change your last name to mine," came the retort as Gavin took a second to process what the other had said while [Name] smiled.

"Wait... did... did you just... what?" Gavin sputtered out as [Name] twirled him.

"Let's just enjoy this dance, alright?" The [Hair color] haired man innocently had said as he gave Gavin a smile. Gavin seemed to think for a second but nodded. A grin on his lips.

"You better come and proposed when I'm in the middle of my damn sappy congratulations to Delilah's marriage or so help me, I wont say yes," Gavin joked as the [Hair color] haired laughed at it.

"And get the attention off the newly wed? How evil," the [Hair color] haired man teased as Gavin rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Fuck them, I am an attention hoe and it's my revenge for making the two of us come here," Gavin replied as he felt [Name]'s hand squeezed their intertwined ones. "We could have fucked by this time god damn it."

"Let's see, shall we dear?" [Name] said as he spun Gavin around again. Then bringing the brunet close as the song slowly ended.

"Also, my answer is fuck yes," [Name] smiled at Gavin's words.

"That's great to hear."

[keytomythoughts]

Eleutheromania | Chapter 04

Chapter Index

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

“Coming!” 

I rush down the stairs to stop the knocking that has been sounding at my door for the past few minutes. Of course when I decide to take a shower, of all times. Tossing the towel on a nearby chair, I hurriedly make my way towards the door and quickly turn the knob.

“Kun!” I beam at the older male who stands in my doorway, embracing him in a rushed, tight hug. His free hand holds a bag of takeout food while the other pats my back before I move away. He simply shakes his head but returns the smile. 

“You act as if I haven’t come to visit in ages, Jaeun.” He hands me the bag. “Hope you haven’t eaten already.”

I shake my head as I take the bag from him, peering down to see its contents. I gasp, looking back up at him in surprise. Boxes of sushi, my favorite. “You didn’t have to!”

He shrugs, his hand going to rub against his dirty blonde hair sheepishly. “It’s the least I can do.”

Before I can move aside and let Kun in, a familiar citrus-colored head catches my attention, his figure looming behind Kun.

“Yangyang? Is that you?”

The boy perks and immediately pushes past Kun, nearly tripping him in the process. I can see the twinkling of his hazel orbs even in this poorly lit hallway. “Jaeun!!” 

I barely have enough time to position myself correctly before Yangyang sends himself hurdling at me, his arms wrapping themselves tightly around my frame that I nearly drop the bag. Though five years younger than me, I’ve grown to be quite fond of the male. He has visited with Kun ever since Lucas left for the army. His energy and cheery nature is enough to always pull me out of my despair, especially on days where the loneliness is just too much for me to bear. Kind of like the younger brother I never had, not really appreciating his presence until I truly realize how fortunate I am to have him. Trust me when I say that both his presence and absence are very apparent.    

I stumble back a few steps as I try to pry the teen off me, but his grip is far too strong. Kun takes this chance to walk in and close the door behind him, taking the bag from my nimble fingers and setting it down on the kitchen table. 

Kun has been trusting friends with Lucas for as long as I can remember. Though I never got to meet him until recently, Lucas would always tell me stories about how they were so close that they were practically brothers. Kun’s older than Lucas, about a three-year gap between the two males. Despite Kun being a part of the Rose class (and his age), he never treated Lucas any differently, even going as far as looking out for him and taking care of me per his request. Kun’s father is a government official and is assigned to watch over the sectors and certain checkpoints around the city. It’s no surprise that Kun’s knowledgeable about all the areas in Neo City that may not be even located on the map. Blind spots that even the sharpest of individuals can't make out just from observing a spatial view of the city.

“I honestly can’t wrap my head around the fact that you're going to be drafted next year,” Kun states dryly as he pries off Yangyang from me, my lungs slowly filling with air once again. 

Man, does he hug tight.

“I’ve got a full year,” Yangyang retorts. “I’m not wasting any of it, even if I’m from the Star sector.”

I clap my hands together to draw their attention towards me. “Well in any case, I’m glad you two stopped by. Plus,” I motion towards the bag on the table, “I can’t eat that all by myself, seeing you both came all this way.”

Yangyang pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “We would’ve come sooner, but Kun insisted—ow!” 

I watch as Yangyang grabs the back of his head shortly after Kun has punched it. “You’re acting as if you can come and go here as you please.” 

Yangyang continues to glare at the older male, muttering under his breath. I let out a short laugh, the chemistry of the duo never ceasing to amaze me. 

It’s true, they do come visit frequently, but the visits have been cut short because of things Kun’s father has to manage, and it would be weird for his son to be off somewhere else when he should be helping out his father. Yangyang was too busy living his best life, trying to complete things on his so-called bucket list before he gets drafted. Always trying something new, Yangyang is a boy full of spirit and life. If only he had been born into a higher class, he could keep on living as he was. Just a teen living life to the fullest, not having to worry about the impending doom of having that all stripped away.

“In any case,” I shuffle away from the two boys and start setting out the food and plates accordingly, “thank you both. It honestly means a lot to me.”

Kun offers a smile, his ears slowly turning a soft pink from the gratitude he had just received. “Lucas is very persistent, so how could I refuse?”

Yangyang nods earnestly. “It’s fun spending time with you! Beats having to spend time with an old grandpa—”

Kun clears his throat rather loudly as his eyes narrow at the teen. Yangyang gulps and immediately scurries away, seeking refuge behind me. He grabs my arm protectively. Shaking my head, I pat his hand and call the two over to eat.

“So,” Yangyang starts with the sushi rolls stuffed in his mouth, “Lucas has been gone for how long?”

I sigh. “About four years now..”

Yangyang’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Holy shit, that long already?” 

I nod slowly. “He has been contacting me less too,” I aimlessly stab at my sushi roll with a single wooden chopstick, eyes not really focusing on anything, really. “I’m worried.”

Sensing my sudden change in mood, Kun clears his throat. “I’m sure he’s okay. The longer you’re in the military, the harder your tasks become over time. He even became a lieutenant relatively early, so I guess it’s expected.”

Since Kun’s father works in the government, they directly oversee the military. Naturally, Kun would know what was going on within the regiments. Any change in recruiting methods, issues within the ranks or rookies, everything. He has been always up to date on their routines. However, whatever he does know should never be conveyed to anyone outside of his sector. Yet, he’s taking a big risk by telling me as soon as he can, knowing full well of the consequences if he were caught. If it weren’t for Kun, I wouldn’t even have known that little detail of Lucas’ quick ascension through the ranks. Or anything else, for that matter. 

Yangyang suddenly groans, aggressively slamming his chopsticks down on the table. 

I raise my eyebrow at him in confusion. I look over to Kun, but he shrugs his shoulders.

“Yangyang,” I gently pat the teen’s arm, “what’s wrong?”

His huffs in annoyance. “I don’t get it. I’m young, handsome, and talented. How come I’m still single??” He throws his hands up in slight frustration.

I chuckle. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right one yet. Just be patient.”

He drops his head on the table, mumbling. “Easy for you to say..”

I simply laugh at his deflated state. If I could, I would give Yangyang the world. I’ve never seen someone as vibrant and enthusiastic as him in a while. This stupid system is only limiting his chances of ever doing the things he wants to in life. That mark on his wrist governing his life by making its own decisions. Soon, he won’t even be able to find someone and settle down, maybe potentially wanting to tie a knot with. If only that law was never enacted to begin with, Yangyang wouldn’t have to be in a frenzy to explore all of Neo City, and Lucas and I would be together for as long as time was with us.

I can hear Kun muttering something about irresponsible youth, but I can still see his small smile evident. It must hurt Kun the most, seeing that even though he’s not suffering from the cruel system in place, he can’t prevent the pain and suffering from those affected by this unjust ruling established by the monarch. I can see that he wants to fight, to change the system, but what could he do? We’re all essentially stuck, not knowing which direction to pull or be pulled towards. Simply swaying in this middle ground of uncertainty.

We continue to eat, and as I’m about to stand up to put the plate away, a sudden wave of nausea washes over me, my steps faltering and my vision blurring. The plate immediately drops from my hand and the crash sounds muffled in my ears. I can barely make out what’s in front of me, the waves intensifying as the seconds prolong to minutes. Then comes the churning in my stomach, the feeling that it was physically going through a wringer repeatedly. Confused on what pain to tend to first, I place my hands over my torso, stumbling even further back. Before I can collide with whatever is around me, I feel someone’s hands clutching at my sides, supporting me as the pain continues to drag out for what seems like a millennia. My eyes blink in a desperate attempt to make out my surroundings, but the only thing I can see is Yangyang’s bright, orange-colored hair, the other objects around me still distorting. Which means that Kun is holding me up, seeing as I currently can’t do much on my own. He guides me to the couch and carefully sets me down, as well as himself. I grab my stomach and groan, the nausea still very present and very sickening. 

The other side of the couch dips down, and I feel cool fingers slipping a glass into my hands, making sure my fingers curl around the circular structure as securely as possible.

I barely make out the voice, but I know it’s directed to me. Those hands then gently angle the class upwards and to my lips, the cool liquid sliding down my throat. The glass is then removed, and I lean back into the plush pillows behind me. Slowly, ever so slowly, my senses start to regain themselves. My vision’s slightly foggy, but it isn’t as bad as compared to what it was before. The murmuring becomes distinct, clear voices, signaling the return of my hearing as well. Yet, the wrenching of my stomach continues at a throbbing pace, the intensity varying. I focus on my breathing, inhaling and exhaling through mental coaxing. Eventually, the throbbing dulls down to distant numbness.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks, his tone laced with concern. I feel a slight pressure on my left arm, and my eyes connect it to Yangyang whose hazel orbs have been dilated with fear.

“Y-Yeah, I think…” I drift off, my eyes squeezing shut and opening again, blinking rapidly until my vision is more clear. 

“What happened?” Yangyang asks, inching closer to me.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I’m not sure. One minute I was completely fine and then all of a sudden I felt like I was going to vomit. My stomach was killing me, too.”

Kun’s brows furrow in consideration of the details I’ve mentioned. “Have you ever experienced this before?”

Come to think of it, I haven’t. This was the first. In terms of sheer pain, this was definitely the worst, but when I think about it, I have been feeling sick, especially after waking up. 

  I shake my head. “If anything, I’ve experienced morning sickness recently, but nothing this bad.”

Yangyang leaves to fill himself a glass of water before coming back to sit on the couch, this time next to Kun. He takes a couple of sips before the dark blonde male looks to me, a finger on his chin.

“Jaeun, could you be pregnant?”

Simultaneously, my eyes enlarge and Yangyang chokes on his water. Kun immediately starts hitting his back. Eventually, Yangyang’s fit of coughs diminishes and is able to breathe again, the color coming back to his face. 

“Jaeun?? Pregnant??” His chest heaves up and down. Whether it be from shock or excitement, I’m not sure. His large eyes convey one message, yet his goofy grin contradicts that.

“I mean,” I scratch the back of my neck, feeling the heat rising to my cheeks, “I haven’t really considered it, but…could that explain why?”

Kun crosses his arms over his chest, still slightly perplexed. “It could be. That seems like the most possible explanation as of right now.”

Yangyang downs the glass before setting it aside. “Wait, so, you think you’re actually pregnant? But you and Lucas never—”

He cuts off when I immediately look away from the two, but I can still feel their burning, lingering gaze. The blush on my cheeks grows and creeps to my ears.

Yangyang gasps. “Oh my god, you guys did!”  

Kun clears his throat, running a hand through his thick, caramel-like hair. He sighs. “Yeah, that would make sense then.”

“Still,” I play with the edge of my–or rather Lucas’–hoodie, “if that were true, then—”

“Lucas is the baby daddy, holy shit!” Yangyang exclaims, jumping up from the couch, visibly annoying Kun. “And Jaeun’s the baby momma!”

Kun grabs his arms to steady the tipsy teen, absent the alcohol. “Would you quit it already?”

Yangyang shakes his head, grinning his Cheshire-cat smile. He grabs Kun’s shoulders and starts shaking him violently. “They’re gonna have a babyy!!”

Seeing Kun evidently struggling because of the hyper teen is enough to send anyone in mild hysteria. I giggle. With his ecstatic behavior being the better, and somewhat chaotic, characteristic of his personality, it’s hard to believe that the following year he would have to be drafted, and maybe even selected from the pool. Then what would be left of the giddy male? I honestly can’t see it, I can’t.

Kun continues to slap Yangyang until he eventually calms down. The smile is still plastered on his face, his hazel orbs beaming. 

Shaking his head, Kun sighs. Can’t imagine how exhausting it is for him to handle such a massive ball of energy that is of a single human being. 

“Calm down, we still have yet to confirm it, Yangyang.”

“Still!” Yangyang continues to beam with that same giddiness. “There’s gonna be a mini Lucas and Jaeun!!”

He sighs, but I can sense his happiness seeping through his composure. Typical of Kun. Someone has to keep the younger boy in check. 

“Are you going to tell him? Or should I? If it’s actually the case, I mean.” Kun looks at me quizzically. Yangyang also stops frantically moving around, awaiting my response.

I push the dark brown spools behind my shoulders, raking my fingers through the silky strands in the process. “I’ll have to, but I’ve gotta take the test first.” I sigh. “I think I’m going to have to be the one to tell him, but I appreciate it Kun. Thank you.”

I flash a small smile at the older male. 

Yangyang scuttles towards me and starts shaking my arm playfully. “You gotta text me first if it’s legit, Jaeun. You have to!” 

I turn to him, his eyes twinkling in pure delight and excitement. Like a balloon just moments away from bursting, the inside filled with sparkling confetti. I laugh and pat his head lightly. “Okay you big baby, I will.”

Kun stands as he pulls out his phone, his gaze fixated on the glowing screen emitting from the device. Whatever he was looking at seemed to be important. And when he looks up, his expression confirms my assumption.

“Jaeun, I have to get going. My father’s calling me back to visit the Star sector with him. I’m so sorry, I wish I could stay a bit longer.”

I nod in understanding. It isn’t easy being the son of a government official, especially one whose heart disagrees with their own actions.

From the corner of my eyes, I catch Yangyang flinch, just slightly. It’s a quick motion, but I notice it nonetheless. Of course he would. It’s his birthplace, his home. The fact that the government needs to make additional rounds there, most certainly bringing the Sabres along, is definitely something anyone would be worried about. Especially for Yangyang, considering his parents still live there. 

I approach Yangyang, my hand lightly patting his back out of comfort. A gesture I knew he definitely needed, seeing his muscles loosen, just a tad bit, before smiling once more. 

“Thanks for stopping by, really. Visit again soon, okay? You’re always welcome here, the both of you.” My eyes cast between the two boys, smiling.

“Of course,” he pockets his device and looks to Yangyang. “Come on, let’s go.”

He pouts. “Aww, but why do I have to go? Can’t I stay for a little longer? Please?” He grabs my arm a little tighter, making me release a short chuckle.

Kun shakes his head, “No. We’re leaving right now. Don’t argue.”

Yangyang’s shoulders slump in defeat, but his hand slips away from my arm and trudges over to where Kun stands. 

Before leaving, Yangyang turns around and waves, flashing me his infamous smile. 

“I hope it’s a girl!! Or a boy! Or bot—hey!” 

Kun yanks the back of Yangyang’s collar and drags him outside of my apartment, smiling at me once more before closing the door.

Then it’s just silence. I’m suddenly aware of the heavy, thick air surrounding me. There’s too much to do, too much to think, but such little time. 

But one thing’s for sure. 

I have to tell Lucas.

Chapter 03 | Chapter 04 | Chapter 05 |         

[rynhaswritersblock]

tiktok famous (hc) - part three | p.p.

summary: you and peter doing various tiktok trends. y'all know the deal

warnings: ultra chaotic writing (i have nine other drafts forgive me i am a tad bit stressed), cussing as always, and HOPEFULLY GOOD WRITING??? oh and yes as always peter being Babey

+ + +

- HI!!!!!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE TIKTOK HCS!!!!!!!

- i got a few requests/ideas from y'all for more tiktoks so here we are

- tbh since so many new trends are constantly coming out i might just make this a whole ass SERIES but we'll see

- who knows if i can even handle that

- btw:: if i forgot one or there's one you really want me to write you can comment it and i'll try to add it to this!!! if it's too long since posted though i'll add it to my drafts <3

- OKAY TIME FOR CHAOTIC ENERGY

- as mentioned in past versions of this series

- tiktok dances are ADDICTIVE!!!

- and you literally broke a goddamn sweat learning supalonely but we're NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT IT

- and you and peter are hanging out one day

- and as all of these ideas happen

- you get ~inspired~ by the for you page

- you set up the camera, flipping it so that it's facing peter and not you

- the lil shit hasn't even noticed that you got up yet what a poop

- but as soon as the music starts playing he raises his head

- you're doing the supalonely dance like a fucking BOSS

- all while pretending to be looking at yourself in the camera

- you don't let yourself stare at the screen so you don't get distracted

- but

- of course

- peter is nodding his beat to the beat, clapping for you, and when you to the body roll thing on "drinking" he lets out a whoop that makes you wheeze

- when you finish you laugh, letting out a sigh and grabbing your phone

"not gonna lie, you ate that."

"i know."

- you sit back down next to him, heart rate in da Clouds, and start watching the video

- petey boi is just sitting there like a puppy, crooked smile on his face as he watches you

- in a few parts he's even doing the dance with you

- and he looks so in awe

- you can't stop watching it and smiling at the screen

- but then the fucker sits down next to you and is like "you should post that it was really good"

- so you show him it

- his face gets all red bc he's babey

"you were videoing me??"

- OKAY NEXT ONE

- so i think we all know the rosa videos

- for the b99 fans: rosa rosa rosaaaaaaaaaaaa

- she's a QUEEN

- and you constantly quote those things like

- every time there's a silent moment you're just like "you're fucking lying let me see" and the whole team (avengers squad) is like ayo stfu

- one day y'all are just hanging in the commons of headquarters

- we're getting the band back together!

- and you start videoing cause you're bored

- you point the camera at peter

"aye dude come here?"

- everybody groans and peter gives the camera a sassy look, tilting his head

"you're gay? i fuckin-"

"language," steve mutters

"-knew it dude!" you smile, zooming in on the camera

- peter gets a confused look on his face

"wait no i'm bi"

- tony effin SHOOTS UP

- sitting like there's a goddamn board in his back

- and he slowly turns his head in your direction

- eyebrow raised

- you bust out laughing and so does everyone else, including peter

- tony's looking around like "hey what the FUCK is HAPPENING"

"stark, you didn't know?"

"NO??"

- lol we stan bi peter parker

- aight BACK TO THE SHITS AND GIGGLES

- so you and peter are obsessed with that quirky tiktok bartender girl who makes all the drinks

- i forgot her name but she's like

we're gonna do 2 ounces so that's 1, 2, 3, 4! we're gonna give it a nice strain! andddd shake shake shake shake! fun, right?

- yk what i mean

- hi it's editing ryn it's her tiktok is like paradise bartender

- and so one day

- jk one NIGHT

- it's like 2 am

- and you and peter are like

- let's make lemonade. but like. Fake Alcohol Version Because We're Underage

- and so y'all run to the kitchen

- you almost crush and die from slipping on your socks

- the two of you and laughing and giggling as you run and around and get all your materials

"where is the fucking STRAINER"

"bitch idk help me find the lemon flavor packets"

- it takes FAR too long but y'all are finally ready

- you start recording and the two of you are already laughing

"hey guys so today-"

"TODAY" he pushes you to the side "we're gonna be making LEMONADE!"

- the two of you keep laughing as you shove each other trying to be the one in charge

- so basically

- peter gets water all over the counter

- some of the ice flies out when you shake it

- the strainer DOESN'T WORK AND ALL THE STUFF GETS EVERYWHERE

- and the small amount that lands in the cup tastes like whispering lemon

- like hella watered down there's like nothing there

- the lemon is SHY

- and then in the last 10 seconds of the video bucky walks in

- and he's like wtf... wait y'all are making lemonade??

- and the three of you end up making lemonade for real and drinking it while watching infomercials

- at two in the morning

- fun, right?

- those videos are so satisfying NEXT TIKTOK

- thank u ritxal for the idea !!

- so our boi PETE HERE

- is hella addicted to those cool pov videos

- and he gets a really good idea even though it would make him a SIMP

- he ends up deciding FUCK IT I'M MAKING ONE

- MY TIKTOK ACCOUNT IS PRIVATE ANYWAYS

- so he sets up his phone and jumps around to get ~~in the zone~~

- feeling stupid as hell

- he films one of those ones where it's the "from the other side" *noise!!!!!!!!* one's yk where the ppl are like "are you sure you want to __?" and it has the yes and no buttons

- you know

- i hope

- and he puts the text on it and shrugs, posting it

- meanwhile you're home and you get the notification that peter posted a tiktok

- obviously you click on it because

- uh

- because

- and you watch it and gasp because the caption says pov and ur like who tf is this man peter never posts povs

- you watch as peter is looking nervously at the camera and text pops up saying "are you sure you want to give up?"

- he presses yes and you're like oh god oh peter wait is this a sign shit FUCK

- a new text bubble pops up saying "do you want to see her?" and you fucking yeLP

- you're like holy FUCK WAIT WHO IS HER???? WIFE???? DAUGHTER?????? HUH!!!!!!!

- and then he presses yes

- and the screen goes black

- you see urself in the screen

- and you basically DIE

- a wheeze so hard that it hurts flies out of your mouth and you IMMEDIATELY PRESS DUET

- you start filming with your phone facing the ceiling and as the beat drops (or whatever when it's like ahhhh!) you pop onto the screen, smiling

- and you're like RANDOM CONFIDENCE BOOST WHATEVER POST

- and then BACK TO PETER'S PLACE

- HE GETS THE NOTIFICATION AND IS LIKE WHAT

- AND WHEN HE SEES YOU POP ONTO THE SCREEN HE'S LIKE HOLY FUCK

- AND SO HE FACETIMES YOU

- YOU ANSWER OBVI

"y/n what the hell"

"did you like it?"

"maybe"

- okay i wanna do another pov one so here we go

- i'm sure everyone here is acquainted with the "they call me tiago.. i don't know who's margo" ones

-  these are lowkey difficult to write out so i'm just gonna lay it out for you as best i can

- really trying here

- so peter posts the boy's voice part ("no no no... they call me tiago. i don't know who's margo? i just hit this lotto" etc etc etc)

- and when it's like idk who's margo he just holds a stare with the camera in like an InTiMiDaTiNg way

- even though he's babey and a literal puppy it actually like.. works

- and when you see it you're like yes so you post the other part (that people never do lol "her name is margo" etc all the female voicing)

- and you hold the stare too and EVEN LIKE RAISE YOUR EYEBROW SUGGESTIVELY AND GIVE HIM THE LOOK IYKYK

- so BASICALLY

- i'm really trying here i can visualize these tiktoks perfectly but GOD if i don't struggle a bit while writing them

PETER'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but you keep screwing with my plans so i try to intimidate you

Y/N'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but i found you cute so i decide to mess around with your mission

- OH BY THE WAY THE TWO OF YOU LIVE AT AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS AND HE POSTED "YESTERDAY" SO YOU DECIDE TO POST "TODAY" AND WALK OUT OF YOUR ROOM TO WHERE HE WAS IN THE COMMONS RIGHT AFTER YOU POSTED

- can y'all tell how messy my brain is holy shit

- pls forgive me i keep getting random ideas but IT ADDS TO THE CHAOS SO IT'S FINE RIGHT

- OKAY

- BACK AGAIN

- so you post and walk out and as you turn the corner to the commons you can hear the sound play and have to stop a moment to silently scream

- thankfully no one else was in there except for peter (whose back was to you) otherwise you woulda looked INSANE

- you walk up behind him and smile as he laughs slightly and watches it another time, pulling his phone closer to his face to read the caption

"holy shit," he mutters

- he closes his eyes and smiles and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the couch (🥺)

"you like it?"

- lol

- this kid SHOOTS UP

- HELLO

"oh my god, y/n, what are you doing"

"coming to hang out with you??"

- he sighs as you come and plop down next to him

"what the hell is this"

- he shows you his phone

"a tiktok"

- he smiles and shakes his head (doing that thing where you like look down while doing it and it's so CUTE)

"yeah. i got that."

- NEXT TIKTOK

- alright guess the scenario

- just fucking guess

- i'll wait

- ...

- you'd best BELIEVE that y'all are chilling at headquarters in the commons rn

- where da HELL ELSE

- and

- like LITERALLY EVERY OTHER TIKTOK THAT I WRITE OUT IN THESE

- YOU AND PETE BE CHILLIN

- AND YOU SET UP YOUR PHONE

- god i'm starting to question if i'm capable of writing literally anything else damn

- peter's in the background of course

- and it's this godforsaken audio i'm sure most of you have heard

- you know the one where it's like fast music and then it goes "mm, yeah" and it's usually accompanied with a video of some really pretty girl fake moaning and like rolling her eyes while pushing up her hair??

- well

- all of that

- everything i just said

- is exactly what you do

- and the thing is

- as soon as peter hears the audio he recognizes it

- are we gonna talk about the fact that peter probably spent at least a whole night watching those videos because 1) girls are really pretty and 2) every time he heard it he could vividly imagine you doing it??????? no??? okay

- so he like

- sits up

- does the thing where he rests his forearms on his knees and leans forward, glaring at you through the camera

- and in the background

- if you're paying attention

- peter FLIPS HIS SHIT WHEN YOU DO THE "MM YEAH" PART

- he tHROWS HIS ARMS IN THE AIR LIKE WHAT THE HELL DUDE I THOUGHT I GAVE YOU SIGNS THAT EVEN THOUGH WE'RE NOT A COUPLE AND WE BOTH KNOW YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE OUT OF SPITE,, DOING SOMETHING LIKE THAT ON VIDEO IS ABSOLUTELY OFF LIMITS!!!!!!!

"Y/N!"

- it's still recording and you turn around and laugh, throwing your head back as he jumps up and grabs you by the waist, pulling you in

- the two of you start play fighting just like elio and oliver from cmbyn (but a bit less steamy yk?? more innocent yet still w a bit of tension yeye)

- needless to say you keep that video in a very special place of your heart

- and so does peter like once the two of you stop wrestling you realize that the video had just been looping behind the sound of your laughter and fighting y'all watch it and it loops a few times while the two of you are silent and he finally goes "can you uh. can you send that. to me. ???????"

- next oneeeeeeeeeeeeee

- thank u lilmissquackson for the idea <3

- so in this one you and petey are dating

- and y'all decide to do the put a finger down challenge lol

- but instead of using an audio y'all decide to switch off coming up with ones on the spot

"put a finger down if your boyfriend tackles you every time you're standing near a couch or bed"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend still calls you dude"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend once webbed you to the wall because you wouldn't stand still when he was trying to kiss you"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend used her telepathic powers to keep you out of her room when she was mad at you"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend took TWO YEARS TO ASK YOU OUT"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend started laughing after you told her you liked her"

"put a finger down if you only started laughing because it TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend showed no signs of liking you before you decided to ask her out"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend is the most oblivious boy in the world"

"put a finger down if you're in love with your girlfriend but haven't said 'i love you' yet because you're scared she won't say it back"

- your jaw drops and turn to him

- needless to say you were very glad to have caught your first "i love you"s on camera

- SIDE NOTE you did not post cause after you and peter watched the video back y'all were both like "we don't wanna be THOSE bitches"

- next one woop

- thank u MrsLillianAmbrose for the idea !!

- okay buds

- so here's the thing

- i hate to under-perform

- but i feel like the best way to get the full effect of this tiktok is to watch it and then just roll with me here

- SOOOOO (if u can)

1) open tiktok 2) search @_tharealjohnnyyy_ 3) go to his account (or it might just show up when you search) 4) and scroll to the "ways to cuddle" video 5) it was posted in february 2020 if that helps give u a time reference lol

- OKAY

- I HOPE Y'ALL GOT TO WATCH IT

- I TRIED JUST PUTTING IT IN HERE BUT WATTPAD WOULDN'T LET ME AND I COULDN'T FIND IT ON YOUTUBE (let me know if one of u does!!!)

- if u weren't able to watch it (i'm so sorry) i'm gonna do the best i can to at least make this entertaining

- WOOP

- so if you could see the tiktok that's really all this is

- you and peter doing literally the same thing

- y'all are giggling in between positions and peter struggles to set the camera up every time it falls

- he ends up just webbing it to the ceiling

- and in the end the two of you fall asleep in the reverse OG position with your fingers playing with his hair 🥰🥰

- i hope that was good enough im sorry AH

- next!!

- thank u Mendesmycam for the idea <33

- okay so y'all know that sound

SOMETHING ABOUT YA GORLL

REALLY MAKES MY HEADDDD WANNA TWIRLLLLLLLLLL

- or whatever the lyrics are

- those tiktoks are SO FUNNY

- AND YOU DECIDE TO COPY THEM

- so you grab a chair and sit peter down in the middle of the room and set the camera up

- luckily for you he has a bag of cheez-its in hand that you plan to utilize later

- babey has a confused look on his face as he watches you press play and he shoves some more cheez-its in his mouth

- the music starts playing and you just about bust out laughing as you walk all around him, running your hand across his chest

- his heart is racing he's like AYO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN ON

"y/n what the hell are you-"

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU GIRL

- you practically snap into a weird position

- ur freaking arms are out in front of you and you're on your toes and knees are bent and you're hunched over and it's like

- a very interesting pose

- peter BUSTS OUT LAUGHING

- his eyes are all crinkly as he bends over in the chair

- you just about break but you manage to keep a straight face as you start dancing around weirdly

- needless to say you look like a goddamn CONTORTIONIST

- peter can't stop wheezing

- you make one of your hands in the shape of like the italian man hand this iykyk and fucking SWAN DIVE YOUR FINGERS INTO HIS CHEEZ-IT BAG

- meanwhile peter's STILL DYING

- and you take the cheezits and lean back, sprinkling them all over you (like the popcorn one if you saw that tiktok lmao)

- and the video finally ends and you get to laugh

"y/n what the hell was that"

"i don't know i thought you might enjoy a little entertainment"

- and of course

- that's exactly when no other than SAM WILSON fucking strolls in

- hey how y'all doin'- AHHH (get yo fucking dog bitch! ~it don't bite~ YES IT DO GET YO-)

- sorry got distracted

- and he hears you and his head SPINS ON OVER TO Y'ALL'S DIRECTION

"a little what now?"

- AIGHT GUYS

- LAST ONE

- Y'ALL ARE AT HEADQUARTERS CAUSE WHERE DA HECK ELSE

- this time you're in peter's room though

- and i'd like to imagine this one with the cool led lights because 1) tiktok and 2) i feel like peter would have those in his room

- y'all are just chilling watching hot rod (GREAT MOVIE BTW)

- and

- peter sets up the camera

- not to mention his heart is RACING RN CAUSE HE'S A NERVOUS BEAN

- and he hits record and leans back, letting out a sigh

- you don't even notice his phone literally right there cause you're just enjoying the movie

- a few seconds into the video and petey is like Visibly Freaking Out

- but a funny part plays and you laugh, looking over at him to see if he found it funny too

- he notices you're turning your head so he's like YES I LOOK AT TV HOT ROD MOVIE I AM LOOKING THAT WAY AND WASN'T STARING AT YOU OR THE CAMERA YES THIS IS A FUNNY PART I AM LAUGHING

- and then you look away

- and then he looks at you

- and ever so lightly grabs you by the chin

- and pulls you to him and plants his lips on yours

- finally, dumbass

+ + +

huzzah

i hope u guys enjoyed !!!!!!! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

70 Years of Grief

Request 

warning: language, angst, sadness

Summary: If you take requests could I request this. Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rodgers x (sister) reader. After Bucky and Steve fail to come home after ww2 y/n is driven crazy from the hatred she feels from being abandoned by her brother and left alone in the world she becomes an Assassin to kill those who ruined her life. 70 years later the avengers are sent to find an Assassin that has been killing for the last several decades only for Steve and Bucky to be horrified by who it is. (Codename reaper) 

Do you know how hard it was? The entire world was celebrating the end of another great war whereas (y/n) was in her room grieving. All she wanted was silence. But everyone was so loud why couldn’t they let her be. 

Why did they leave her?

Bucky was drafted in, he knew months beforehand but didn’t say anything until the very last day when he left. Steve inlisted he left the day after Bucky no warning. One day he just can out with his bags packed and said he was leaving for the war and would be back when they won nothing else. Just like that, they were gone and she was left alone with no one.

They never came back.

-

“This is our Track it codename Reaper. She’s an assassin been working for a little over 70 years.” Fury said Shield had fallen and he was now working pretty much of the grid but there were few moments like this right now where he brought the avengers something he could not handle alone. “She started off sloppy leaving behind bodies and a big mess but over time she got better to the point she didn’t leave behind anything, not even the bodies. We don’t know how many people she has killed but we know it’s a lot  ” He showed a picture of a massacre then switched to a picture-perfect clean room.

“We thought she was killing at random but mostly at Shield as she was taking out our agents too. It wasn’t until after Shield fell that we discovered she had been taking out Hydra. She has been killing and stealing files for years. The Reaper is ruthless taking out men, women, and children leaving no witnesses behind. She was unseen and untouchable ...until recently” He pulled up a picture of her.

“Over the last couple of years, she has been slipping up. Leaving behind evidence, getting caught on camera, not erasing her tracks. We’ve got closer to catching her in these past few years than we have in decades. But she’s still just out of our reach. This is where you guys come in.”

He looked around the table Tony, Natasha, Sam, Vision, Bruce, and Bucky. The others were off on another mission. 

“We’ve got information on her next location. I need you guys to bring her in.”

-

“How long is this going to take,” Sam said as he was perched up on the roof across the street. Their target was in a bar sitting and drinking. She was supposed to be meeting someone so they were waiting for that person to show up so they could take them in too. It had been two hours but no sign of her visitor and she was still sitting there drinking.

“I don’t think this guy is showing up,” Natasha said in her earpiece Bucky was sitting across from her they were in the bar in a far corner undercover. They had been sitting here as long as her. “Let’s just take her”. The bartender leaves to go to the bathroom.

“She’s making a move,” Bucky says as he watches her gets up walking around the bar. She grabs a bottle off the top shelve and three small glasses she begins to walk over towards their table. On the inside, they were internally screaming and panicking but on the outside, they looked chill and badass.

She takes a seat next to Bucky putting three glasses down and pouring some drinks. “You’ve been here for what Two hours and you’re still not getting it,” She says looking at Bucky.

“What are we not getting?” Natasha asked but she completely ignores her.

“Who are you here to meet?” Bucky asks

“You” she smiles.

-

“So she wanted to get caught. But why?” Natasha asked as she looked into the interrogation room through the two-way mirror. After finishing her drink (Y/n) came in without a fight the only thing she asked for was for them to pay for her drinks. The only person she has spoken to so far was Bucky she blatantly ignored everybody else. He tried to ask her questions but she said she’d like to wait. Now they were waiting for whatever she was waiting for.

“Do you think it’s some kind of trap?” Bruce asked the whole situation was making him nervous.

“I don’t know. But she wants to be here and that’s a big red flag” Sam says. They were all just watching her.

“The others have returned and are on their way down. Vision is filling them in on the situation.” Tony came in with a tablet. “Holy shit...102″

“huh”

“That’s how old she is. She’s-”

“(Y/n)” Steve said as he walked in the room to see a woman beyond the window sitting in the interrogation room. He immediately smiles and tries to walk into the room but the others stop him.

“You know this chick”

“yes, It’s (Y/n) my little sister”

“what the fuck”

“I Want to see her” Steve starts to push past the others

“What the actual fuck,” Tony said still frozen in his place.

Steve Makes it in the room pushing past the others and stumbling in. (Y/n) just smiles watching as they struggle with him. 

“(Y/n), (Y/n), it’s me, do you remember me? It’s me” Steve said his voice cracking and eyes tearing up as he tries to move towards her.

“Hi Stevie, long time no see”

“You-you remember me?”

“On my 19th birthday, you baked me a cake. Even though you were a terrible cook. You messed it up so you ran to Mrs. Barnes and begged her to help you. You never told me but Mrs. Barnes did, she thought it was cute. We had my birthday at their house that night.” They both smiled at the memory. (Y/n) gracefully slipped out of the handcuffs that connected her to the table and opened her arms to hug Steve. He didn’t notice the others on the other hand did and were freaked the fuck out.

Steve brought her into a tight hug “ I thought you died. They said you were dead. They wouldn’t tell me what happened.” he pulled back from her and cupped her face tears of pain and joy in his eyes “ my god, what happened to you?”

“It’s a long story. I’m going to let your friends fill you in for now”

“But-” She kisses his cheeks 

“Go I think you’re in trouble” she laughed and pushed him away his friend dragged him out of the room quickly as he could. She waved him goodbye as he left whispering a soft “sorry“.

-

Steve sat on the couch head in his hands. The team had just finished explaining the history of his sister. He couldn’t believe his innocently pure baby sister had done such things. My god what happened to her. This couldn’t be her. But it was.

“When we brought her in the only person she would talk to was Barnes”

“Makes-makes sense” the others looked at him for a further explanation “Um... You guys dated back then...you planned to propose to her when you got back but you never did...go back...neither of us did. We left her alone Bucky, we left her alone. We left her alone for 70 years. And she became this”

“how is still here?” Natasha asked

“Hydra” Everyone, but Steve and Bucky, jumped up drawing their weapons. (Y/n) was found leaning on the wall arms crossed and relaxed despite the dangerous situation she was in.

“They took you too” his heart broke.

“No...I went willingly”

(Y/n) sat in a wheelchair in nothing but a tank top and panties being wheeled around. “How long will this take?” she asked looking back to Dr. Klah, the man who had brought her here. Everyone else here spoke Russian and didn’t understand her or pretended not to he was the only one to speak to her.

“Patience my dear. Perfection takes time” he chuckled

“I don’t want to be perfect I want to kill the people who killed my boys”

“And you will, little lady, you will,” he said rubbing her shoulders. He pushes the doors to the lab open rolling her in. Inside Doctors, nurse, and Russian military men were buzzing working and talking in a language she had yet to understand. “  You’ll be okay, little lady. Don’t worry”

They wouldn’t even let her walk to soldier picked her up and carried her to a cradle of sorts in the middle of the room. The doctors were talking around her as the poked needles in her two, three, four needles of clear liquid entered her. They then started strapping her down she glared at the soldiers who strapped her down. 

“This better work Doc. If I don’t like the results... you’re dead” She said as the cradle slowly closed. She is met with pay that starts in her spine and crawls slowly to the rest of her body but she doesn’t scream. Tears leave her eyes blood drips from her lips but she doesn’t scream. And that amazes them. 

-

(Y/n) wakes up and finds her self in a room on a cot with an IV sticking in her arm. She looked around the room there was a mirror and a sink and one single light that hang swinging slowly back and forth the shadows changing and waving lighting the little room. She rubs her eyes she stands up and looks at the mirror. The smart girl she is she realizes it’s a two-way mirror she didn’t question it she knew this was a shady business her brother had actually shown her pictures of the scientist who helped him and this guy wasn’t it. She assumed he would have killed her and she was okay with that she thought he would end her suffering but then he showed her something different. He really was something this doctor Klah.

She looked around the room again the walls were dirty green. Except for this one spot this large fainted red spot but it was more than a spot. She took a few steps back until her back was to the other wall then she recognized it. It was symbols a symbol she recognized she had seen before her brother had shown her.

Hydra.

Her expression didn’t change as she realized where she was nor did her emotions. She picked herself up and sat back on her cot and laid down. A few minutes later Dr.Klah comes in with two guards.

“Hello, Hello. Ms. Rogers. Wakey, wakey.” He said sitting down by her cot she doesn’t move. “ It seems like we might have another failed experiment and here I thought she would work. Considering her brother and all...Oh well. Get rid of gah.”  The doctor feels a sharp pain in the back of his neck and suddenly he starts coughing up blood before dropping to the floor. (Y/n) quickly tackles one soldier stabbing him with the same IV she stabbed the doctor in the neck with. Taking his gun she then shot at the other soldier who was too slow to move. She took their guns and she walked through that base killing every man and woman.

“That day I found out I had healing abilities. I can’t dead nor can I age. I'll be like this forever.”

“Why did you kill all those people?” Bruce asked then awkwardly shuffled back as all eyes were on him before turning to her again.

“They were hydra”

“Not all of them. Some of them were innocent civilians.”

“No, they were rapist, pedophile, thieves, murders, and abusers. The people I killed deserved it and will not be missed. I did it and I’ll do it again.” (Y/n) gave a small smile and walked away back to the interrogation room. Steve sat with a look of horror.

-

“What is going to happen to her?” Steve asked as he watched shield agents take his sister to an armored van in chains. Everyone was relieved she went willingly no one really wanted to fight her.

“For now, High tech prison. Later? Well, we’ll have to wait and see” Fury pat Steve on the back leaving him with those words as he walked away to supervise her transfer. 

Bucky came up next to Steve watching as the van slowly disappeared. He knew his friend was hurting but he had a question he was desperate to ask. And Steve knew it.

“Go ahead”

“Did I love her?”

“Yes, very much. You were going to marry her.”

Request tags

permanent tags

@lovely-lollipops-blog @totallyweirdsam @sexysamsungl @lilylovelyxo @iamwarrenspeace @geeksareunique @that-random-emu @supreme-leader-jazlo-ren @stone2576 @lil-dino-trash @metal-armed-dino @dylanobrienmoviekid @theshortegg @dontevenblink-badwolf-tardis @mandylove1000  @isnotashtonstan @broitsmydick @onceaballeralwaysaballer1213 @mypage-myfandoms @jordynhartley2001 @midnightdream83 @cookies186 @i-am-marvel-trash-forever @marvels-queen-bee @aebeessun @gabriels-gumdrop @the-best-alchemist @smile-my-bean @valeriae2903 @cassiopeia-barrow @uberduber-loulou @spideyboiiiiiii @lookinsidemyhead

MCU tags 

@acupofhotlatte

[optimizche]

One And Only You (Park Jinyoung/Reader)

Clusterfuck.

That was the only way to describe how your day was going.

Allow you to list the reasons.

Firstly, you hadn't had more than a grand total of two hours of sleep last night, as a result of which, you were exhausted beyond belief. And the only thing that seemed to help was consuming coffee like your life depended on it.

Secondly, you had recieved your grades for your latest assignment. And you had failed. Miserably. Resulting in your professor summoning you to his office and personally giving you an earful about how you needed to up your grades or else you were going to end up failing the semester.

And thirdly, you had just realized that you had another report due. Tomorrow. And you had only managed to finish half of the first draft.

Stressed out of your mind for all the aforementioned reasons, you sat in the library, your head in your hands, your tired, bloodshot eyes staring at your laptop. Listlessly reading through the half draft you had managed to write up.

Come on, you encouraged yourself. You can do this.

There was one, solitary silver lining to your day: tonight you were going to have a night in with your roommate. Park Jinyoung.

Now, Jinyoung and you. You two shared an equation that was equal parts easy and complicated.

Sure, he was your roommate, and had been for the past six months. And you both were great friends. You never fought, cooked together, cleaned together, paid for the utilities together. It was a running joke among your mutual friend circle that you and Nyoung (your nickname for him), lived less like roommates and more like a married couple. That is how well the two of you got along.

Which led you to the more complicated part of your relationship with Jinyoung. The obvious and ever growing sexual tension between you two. It sprung out of nowhere, in even the most innocuous situations.

He'd be going laundry and you'd walk into the laundry room with a basket full of your own clothes, only to stop in your tracks and drool over how peachy his ass looked in his sweatpants as he bent over, loading the machine with clothes. Or when you'd be getting out of the bathroom, freshly showered, a towel wrapped around your body and you'd catch him pausing to gawk at you while you made your way to your room. Or when you both would be having one of your epic Netflix marathons and you'd turn to grab a handful of cheese popcorn from your shared bucket, only to find him looking at you. And then his gaze would flit to your lips for a second, before catching your eyes. And you'd find yourself doing the same, silently admiring how plump and rosy his lips looked and how they'd feel against yours...

Neither of you had acted upon your desires. Yet.

Perhaps neither of you wanted to ruin the friendship that you had with the other.

Or perhaps he wasn't as interested in you as you thought. Perhaps you were overthinking. Misreading the signs.

Whatever it was, your friendship with Park Jinyoung remained just that. A friendship. Nothing more, nothing less.

And for the time-being, you were perfectly okay with it.

Thinking about him so much prompted you to reach out into the pocket of your jeans and pull out your cellphone.

You quickly typed out a text for him.

You (14:09): Hey, Nyoung! I'll be back by 6. You want me to pick up some jajangmyeon for you on the way back?

You knew that the black bean noodles from the deli round the block were his favourite. He could never say no to them.

He replied right back, your phone buzzing as the notification popped up. And your lips turned up into a grin. Yep, he couldn't say no to some jajangmyeon.

But when you picked up your phone and began to read his actual message, your smile vanished.

Nyoung (14:10): About tonight... I'm so sorry, princess. I won't be able to make it. I've gotta go to Jaebum's. Group assignment to complete.

Your heart fell upon reading the text and your eyes began to fill up with frustrated tears as you stared at his words.

Granted, crying over a cancelled night in was an overreaction on your part. But considering how crappy your day had been going so far, you had really been looking forward to a chilled night at home with Jinyoung.

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and began to type out a reply to Jinyoung, but your phone buzzed with the reception of another text.

It wasn't from Jinyoung.

Mark (14:12): Don't look so glum, pretty girl!

Your head shot up and you found Mark, sitting two tables away from you, his eyes on you.

When your gaze found his, he smiled.

A wave of warmth filled you up and you began to type a response to him instead.

You (14:13): Its been a shitty day, M.

He replied immediately.

Mark (14:13): I know, babe. I know. Anything I can do to make you feel better?

You smiled at your phone, reading his words. Mark Tuan was a classmate of yours. And he had the infamous reputation of being a fuckboy. But despite his notoriety, you knew him to be a really, really nice guy. And the fact that he had noticed your sadness, even from two tables away in this deathly silent library, it meant that he cared for you on some level.

Another text came from him.

Mark (14:15): You free tonight? Maybe we could go out and grab some drinks?

You replied immediately, jumping at the opportunity for hanging out with someone who could distract you from your worries. Especially after Jinyoung had bailed out on you.

You (14:16): I'm in. Name the time and place.

Looking up, you saw Mark read your message, a grin spreading across his own lips.

Mark (14:17): Perfect! I'll meet you outside the uni main gate at 7?

You quickly replied in the affirmative, your heart swelling with happiness. Perhaps tonight wasn't going to be a waste after all.

You were just about to keep your phone aside and return to your assignment when your phone vibrated again.

This time it was Jinyoung.

Nyoung (14:18): I'm really sorry, princess. Reply to me, please? You want me to pick up some chocolate ice-cream from Ben and Jerry's for you when I get back? Maybe we could have a late night movie session?

You knew that Jinyoung was genuinely feeling bad and was trying to compensate for cancelling on your night. But you really couldn't help the frustration that had been bubbling up inside you ever since he texted you to cancel.

You (14:19): Don't bother. I'm going out with Mark.

Your reply to him was curt. Clipped.

That should do it, you thought. That will show him.

And sure enough your phone began to buzz as texts from him began to pour in successively. You knew Jinyoung did not like Mark. But you liked him well enough. And you weren't going to let Jinyoung's dislike for Mark ruin tonight for you.

No sir.

You quickly silenced your phone and shoved it back into your pocket.

Taking in a deep breath and another long sip of your iced coffee, you returned to your class work.

______________________

The day hadn't turned out to be as bad as you had been expecting.

By the time 7 pm rolled around, you had finished typing out your essay and emailed it to your professor for submission.

And when you met Mark at the uni gate, your night became instantly better.

Mark had brought along Jackson and Bambam. And your quartet had decided to paint the town red.

You accompanied the boys to their favourite bar, proceeding to get completely sloshed. It was a riot. Lots of laughter and jokes. And the drinks kept flowing. The four of you bought rounds upon rounds and you didn't even remember how many glasses of tequila pineapple rum punch you had drunk.

Losing track of time with the boys was easy. And when all of you finally boarded an Uber, wasted beyond belief, you glanced at the little clock on the cab's dash.

2:56 am.

"Holy shit," you mumbled to yourself before turning to the guys.

"Guys, can you drop me home?" you asked and they all groaned.

"Nooo, ___________," Jackson said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Don't go yet! We've gotta go to that diner, remember? The waffles and burgers are to die for!"

While the idea of some good and greasy food, especially after drinking so much, felt tempting, you wanted to go home. To the comfort of your own bed.

"I'm sorry guys," you said, apologetically, leaning into Mark as the car took a turn around the corner. "I've gotta go..."

______________

It was around thirty minutes later that you finally reached home.

Turning the key in your front door lock, you opened it and entered, before quietly shutting the door behind you. You didn't want to wake Jinyoung.

You kicked off your heels. The balls of your feet were in pain after being in heels all night. Just as you turned to walk into the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water, you heard a low voice.

"So. You're finally back," came Jinyoung's voice and you jumped in surprise.

You let out a starled squeak and turned around. "You scared me!" you said, placing a hand on your chest to steady your hammering heartbeat. "Why are to still up?"

He walked toward you and you noticed, in the dim light of the living room, that he was wearing only his sweatpants, that hung low on hips, and a deep frown set between his brows. He looked fucking delicious. But you pushed away that thought.

"I couldn't sleep. I was worried about you," he said.

You rolled your eyes at that. "I can take care of myself," you replied.

Side-stepping him, you were about to head into the kitchen for some water. But his hand around your wrist stopped you.

He whirled you around and pushed you against the nearest wall, eyes suddenly filled with an anger that you hadn't ever seen before.

"What the fuck, Nyoung?"

"That's what you wore tonight?" he asked, voice dropping an octave as he eyed your tight, low-necked top. "Were you trying to impress Mark? Lure him into your bed?"

You didn't know where this sudden possessiveness was coming from. And in your drunken state, your defiance rose tenfold.

"So what if I was?" you replied spitefully. "You didn't want to spend time with me. I'm not going to sit at home waiting for you. You're not my boyfrien-"

You were never able to finish your tirade because his lips came crashing down upon yours, silencing you effectively.

The pressure of his lips upon yours was fierce and possessive. And when his tongue coaxed your lips apart to lick into your mouth, you could taste vodka on him.

He was drunk too.

Your hands threaded into his hair and you pulled him to yourself your mind screaming at you all the while.

It is happening,the voice inside your head roared in triumph. It was finally happening.

Eager to give as much as you got, you kissed him back, reciprocating his ardour. Tongue lashing against his, lips moving together with his, teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip.

When it became absolutely necessary to breathe, you broke away from him and he seized the opportunity to grasp your head by the roots, tilting your head back to press open-mouthed kisses into your exposed neck.

You clung to his shoulders, your knees weakening steadily.

"Fucking hell... I need you..." Jinyoung groaned against your skin.

"My bed?" you asked, and he nodded, grasping your hand and pulling you along.

Once you were in your bedroom, you both turned to each other, hands frantically working to undress the other between kisses.

He practically tore away your clothes, an urgency in his motions that mimicked your own.

Once you both were finally bare before each other, Jinyoung pushed you down on your bed, where you landed with a huff.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes hungrily raking over your body. Appraising you.

"How are you so beautiful, princess?" he said, crawling up the length of your body, settling on his knees between your legs.

"You're not quite bad yourself, Mr. Park," you replied, eyeing his broad shoulders. His strong arms. His sculpted abs. His muscular thighs. And his-

Oh god, he was magnificent.

Between his legs, his length stood erect, rigid with arousal. Tip flushed a deep red, oozing precum.

Raising a hand, you took him into your palm, stroking him leisurely. All the way from base to tip.

"Princess..." he groaned, teeth biting on his lip. "Don't. I want to be inside you."

You knew exactly what he felt. Because you felt it too. Your need for him was apparent in the wetness soaking you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

Both of you had wanted this for so long that right now, you just wanted to get to it.

Languid explorations of each other's bodies could wait.

Right now, you just needed each other.

"Fuck me, Jinyoung," you said to him, spreading your legs on either side of his hips. Showing him how turned on you were for him. How wet you were for him.

Wasting no time, he delved in with two fingers, making you hiss in delight while he explored you. He was testing you, seeing if you were indeed prepared to receive him.

Whether it was the effect of the alcohol, or the effect of him, or both, you were drenched. And his fingers slid into you with minimal resistance, your slickness granting him an almost effortess access while he breached you with two fingers.

"Jinyoung," you whined, unable to keep your restlessness reined in. While his fingers felt good inside you, it was his cock you were after. "Get inside me. Now."

He chuckled at the needy inflection of your voice, but withdrew his fingers immediately. He didn't want to tease you very much right now either, wanting to be inside you as well.

With one hand, he grasped the base of his length, aligning himself with you, his other hand holding you in place, resting on your hip.

When he sank into you, you both let out an wordless sound of absolute relief. After pining for each other for months, here you were, finally one.

There was the slightest sliver of pain, while your walls became accustomed to his size, but by the time he completely bottomed out, you were in heaven.

"Fuck..." you breathed, letting your head fall back onto your pillow. The feeling of him, hot and throbbing, nestled snugly within your sheath, it was already too much. "Move, Nyoung..."

He let out an airy laugh, and began to chastise you condescendingly. "Patience is a virtue, princess-ah!"

You never allowed him to finish his sentence, clenching hard around him, causing him to choke on his words.

"So that's how you want to play, you brat?" he asked you, withdrawing from you, almost all the way until the tip. Before surging back in.

"Yes..." you moaned, when his hips snapped into yours, a sudden burst of pleasure erupting within you.

Jinyoung had a dark, determined look on his face and he did seized your wrists, pinning them down on either side of your head while he hovered above you, his thrusts rough and deep. Hitting all the right places within you.

"Yes, just like that!" you cried in pleasure, relishing in the vigorous friction that his cock created against your velvety walls with every thrust.

Your walls sucked at his girth with an eagerness that made his breath hitch. "Shit, princess. You're so tight. Fuck."

The sounds of wet flesh slapping and smacking on each other filled the room, accompanied by your moans and his groans.

He could feel his restraint slipping away with the way you clenched around him and with a deep growl, he released your wrists, falling atop you.

"I won't be able to last long," he groaned into your neck, burying his face into your hair. "Tell me you're close, princess."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "I am. I am," you sighed.

It took a total of four more thrusts for him to finish, and he shot his load inside you, moaning your name over and over again.

The moment his sticky, hot seed spilled within you, you felt yourself let go as well, your walls spasming around him, milking him for every last drop he could give.

For a long while, you both laid there, intertwined in each other's arms, thinking about what you had just done. Panting. Gasping.

Eventually, he pulled away from you, lying down beside you.

His eyes never left your face.

"Do you regret it?" he asked.

You shook your head, reaching out to cup his cheek. "I've wanted this for so long."

He grinned widely upon hearing your admission. "Me too."

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his for a chaste kiss, before pulling away. "I'm tired."

He smiled fondly, stroking your sweat-dampened hair away from your face.

"Go to sleep, princess," he whispered. "When you wake up tomorrow, I'm not going to let you leave this bed. I'm going to take my time with you."

You placed a kiss on his cheek as an affirmation. There was no other place you wanted to be.

[justlookfrightened]

Locked out, Part 3

Read Part I and Part 2

“I’ve never been thanked with pie before,” Jack said, reaching to take the containers out of Eric’s arms before he stepped back to allow Eric to enter his condo.

“You never knew me before,” Eric said, following Jack through the entry and past a large living room area to the kitchen.

Jack set the pies down on a wide granite (yes, definitely granite) countertop that had very little on it. The countertop stretched between a deep sink and KitchenAid range, with a stainless steel Frigidaire side-by-side model on the adjacent wall. A granite-topped island divided the kitchen from the living room, with stools on the living room side turning it into breakfast bar.

“So, um, I found some video of your team,” Jack said, turning away from the still-covered pies.

“You did?” Eric said, stepping further into the kitchen. Maybe Jack expected him to do the honors, since he made the pies? “Umm, which pie do you want? There’s apple and peach. Either will be better if I heat it in the oven. Microwaving it ruins the texture of the crust.”

“Oh, you want pie now?” Jack said. “I don’t usually eat this time of day, but I guess I could … apple, I think.”

“I could cut you small slices of both,” Eric said, stepping to the oven. Given the state of the kitchen, he wasn’t entirely sure Jack knew how to turn it on. Which wasn’t fair; Jack probably baked fish or boneless, skinless (flavorless) chicken breasts from time to time. Wait -- this was a gas range with an electric oven. Jack definitely did not appreciate this.

“Once the oven preheats, it’ll be about 10 minutes,” Eric said. “I’d suggest adding ice cream, but …”

“I don’t have any,” Jack said. “I don’t usually eat dessert. Do you really have to heat up the pie?”

“It’s not absolutely necessary,” Eric said. “But if you don’t eat pie often, then when you do, it should be the best it can be, right?”

Jack nodded his agreement with that sentiment.

“It really does taste better warm,” Eric said, carefully cutting small slices, about half of what he would normally serve, from each pie. “Do you have a ceramic plate, something that can go in the oven for a bit? And a pie server? Or a spatula?”

Jack reached into a cupboard where there were white stoneware plates. “There might be something in that drawer,” he told Eric, pointing.

Eric found a yellow triangular server, something that probably came with a pizza delivery or maybe a cake. Jack had set two plates on the counter.

“We can probably put both on one plate,” Eric said. “The slices are small.”

“Aren’t you going to have some, too?” Jack asked.

“I made the pies for you,” Eric said. “But I’ll join you, if you like.”

“There’s no way I can eat this much by myself,” Jack said, and Eric’s heart broke a little. Surely Jack had friends he could share the pies with? Eric rarely got more than a slice -- if that -- of any pie he made and allowed his Haus-mates to eat.

“That’s why I was asking about heating them,” Jack continued. “There’s a table at the team facility where people leave food to share.”

So apparently NHL team facilities weren’t that different from other workplaces.

“Every office I’ve worked in has something like that,” Eric said, cutting two more half-sized slices and plating them. “Or you can freeze them to eat later, or serve when you have people over.”

“A lot of guys already left for the summer,” Jack said.

“You stay here?” Eric asked.

“For most of the summer,” Jack said. “I keep my sponsorships and stuff based here -- it’s close to Boston and not too far from New York -- and I do a lot of charity stuff. I do try to visit my folks for a couple of weeks, but I can get back in between.”

“Where do they live?”

“Montreal, mostly, but they have a cabin in Nova Scotia, too,” Jack said.

“Sounds nice,” Eric said.

“It is,” Jack said. “You said you might be working in Providence this summer? Do you usually go back to Georgia?”

The oven beeped that it was ready, so Eric slid the plates in. “Those will be hot when they come out,” he said.

Jack pulled a potholder from a drawer behind him.

“Anyway, yes, if I get this internship, it will be the first time I haven’t gone home for the summer,” Eric said. “My mother’s not real happy with the idea, to be honest.”

“How do you feel about it?” Jack asked. “Do you think you’ll be homesick?”

Eric shrugged.

“Maybe a little?” he said. “I’ll miss Mama, of course, and MooMaw, and even Coach, but I just don’t … fit in in Madison.”

“You’ll miss your old hockey coach?” Jack asked.

Eric laughed.

“While my hockey coach was great, no,” Eric said. “Coach is my dad. He’s the local high school football coach, and everyone calls him that. I wasn’t all that close to my hockey coaches, not like my figure skating coach when I was a kid. Katya was a force to be reckoned with. But I always called her Katya.”

“That explains some things,” Jack said.

“Like what?” Eric said.

“LIke how you played rec league hockey and still made an NCAA division I team,” Jack said. “And how you skate fast enough for that to make sense. I said I watched some of your games, and you don’t look like someone who was new to high-level athletics or the commitment it takes. Your checking game could use some improvement, though.”

“No kidding,” Eric deadpanned. “Do you want me to make coffee or something?”

“I only have caffeine in the morning,” Jack said. “But I have a single-cup drip filter if you want some. I was going to have milk.”

“Milk is good,” Eric said.

Jack got out two glasses and a carton of low-fat milk.

“So I’m guessing you were a pretty good figure skater?”

“I was the 2010 Southern Regional Junior champion,” Eric said.

“Why’d you switch?”

The oven beeped again, and Eric picked up the potholder and turned to get the pie out.

“The short version is we moved and we were too far from my coach to make it realistic to practice every day,” Eric said. “I really couldn’t improve -- or even maintain my level -- without that.”

“But if you were that good, couldn’t you have moved away from your parents to get the coaching you needed?” Jack said. “I left home at 16 for hockey. Or did you not want to?”

Eric put the two plates on the island and said, “That would be the long version.”

“I’ve got time,” Jack said. “If you want to tell me.”

Eric looked around at Jack’s condo, he wasn’t sure for what. A sign, maybe. He was pretty sure it would be safe to say he was gay. NHL players didn’t go around beating up random gay college boys they met through automotive misfortunes. But he liked Jack, and Jack seemed to be taking an interest in him, and he didn’t want to cut what seemed like an incipient friendship with a lonely hockey player short by outing himself.

The condo didn’t give him any indication about how Jack would react, It was tastefully decorated in grays and blues, with large black-and-white artsy photos of hockey rinks and memorabilia from Jack’s six years as a Falconer. Yes, Eric had Googled him last night, just to have an idea what he was getting into going to his condo. Yes, he knew there was an overdose when Jack was 18, knew that the hockey world thought the Falcs were taking a chance when they drafted Jack the next year. That taking that gamble had paid off for the Falconers in perennial playoff appearances and one Stanley Cup and absolutely no scandals involving Jack Zimmermann, whose personal life attracted almost no attention.

Well, how much of a friendship could it be if he couldn’t be out? That was why he didn’t want to go back to Georgia, after all.

“We moved, officially, because Coach got a new job,” Eric said. “And that was true. He did get a new job, at a bigger school. But he’d been looking for a new job for two years, because I was having trouble with kids in school who thought I was gay, at least in part because of the figure skating. And I didn’t want to go through that with a whole new group of kids in a new school.

“I could have moved away, like you said, and lived with my coach, but if I stayed with the same coach, I would have been with the same kids who locked me in a storage closet overnight in seventh grade -- without my parents there to support me. And, to be honest, I couldn’t have gone much further with Katya, I don’t think. She was great, but she didn’t have the facilities, the other people I would need to be Olympic-level.”

Jack nodded. He understood how much would go into making that happen.

“And the investment my parents would need to make for me to even have a chance, to get into the pipeline … No one is guaranteed success, and I’d be coming in late, with all the politics. I just decided it was enough.

“So we moved and I started a baking vlog and joined a hockey league. And I turned out to be pretty good at hockey -- except the checking part -- and I found a college where they would work with me on that and help me get better, and where it was okay that I’m gay.”

Eric couldn’t look at Jack immediately after saying that, so he picked up a fork and took a bite of the apple pie. Jack, who hadn’t eaten while Eric was speaking, did the same.

“Holy shit, this is good,” Jack said.

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

Tagging @thehockeyhaus

Read Part 4

[darlingtons-voyster]

How To Be Badass, Draft 3

Henlo friends! I am doing a writing thing, that writing thing where you make a book. I’m in desperate need of objective feedback (ie. someone who hasn’t been working on this story for the past three years), and was wondering if anyone was interested in reading it chapter by chapter as I go through the third draft!

Here’s the blurb I guess??

SHORT PITCH: Allen is a product of his upbringing--and since his upbringing included above average (and certainly more than would be advised) levels of demonic possession, the product is... well, a bit of a mess. With the help of some demonslayers and a half demon, Allen is dragged onto the path of self-reclamation.

S Y N O P S I S  T H I N G I E

This is a story about a hero.

Or... let’s back up a bit, and meet Allen–a fourteen year old boy who has killed thousands of people. Which, I’ve gotta admit, doesn’t sound very much like a hero. If I tell you that he does it while possessed by demons as per a deal with them to pay for his mom’s comatose life support, then you’re thinking “What kind of messed up, anti-hero shit is that?” Well, actually you were right the first time: it is villain shit. It was his dad’s idea, Allen was five, and now he has no way out.

When he’s fourteen, a gang of quirky demonslayers kidnap him and his half demon live-in best friend, determined to save first his victims, and then him. Over the course of the novel Allen might not become the chosen one, vanquish unspeakable evil, and reclaim the holy land, but he does learn to reclaim himself, and that’s kind of the same thing.

IF THIS SOUNDS AT ALL INTERESTING TO YOU, PLEASE PROCEED TO UNDER THE READ MORE :D

If you’re here, I’m so incredibly honoured. The file is at the bottom if you don’t wanna read this bunch o’ word vomit! If you do: HTBB is very close to my heart and it carries themes of found family, trauma, recovery, toxic and healthy love, addiction, mental health on many levels, and so, so much more. It’s an urban fantasy set in the real world except if the real world had DEMONS, and then kickass people to fight them.

So, if you want to help me read through any of it at all, even just the first couple pages, that would mean so very much to me! Try it out; if you don’t like it, and want to stop, that’s a-okay! If you want to tell me why, I would really appreciate that so I can try to keep growing as an artist, but if you don’t want to then hey, that’s your business my man.

If you’re interested in/by representation: The main character is a half Japanese-American, half Irish-American gay boy who does not have a romantic story line because he’s got bigger fish to fry (ei. demons, PTSD). His best friend is a pansexual half demon. The demonslayers are: a bisexual white woman struggling with PTSD, a black lesbian lawyer struggling against instilled denial of her sexuality to accept her not-so-platonic love for aforementioned bisexual white woman, an asexual Chinese second-gen immigrant who spent most of her life in the American foster system, a white woman who needs to learn to check her privilege, a white woman living with bipolar disorder who grew up below the poverty line, and a Latina woman who had a teen pregnancy. Other characters include a Bangladeshi immigrant with PTSD, a Latino single father (aforementioned Latina woman’s baby daddy from way back when, also he’s doing a great job), a Latina trans girl (their child), and a couple others that aren’t so hard to find in mainstream fiction.

Here’s the link to the first chapter.

It’s just over 1k words (about 4-5 pages in your average novel). Feel free to leave comments!

If you are game to keep reading, or have any feedback for me, then I am even more honoured than I was before!! You can shoot me a message on here, or add me on discord (my handle is IAmColour#7501), or email me at brianna(@)daub(.)ca. I’ll send you the next chapter if you wish, and if not, listen to anything you have to say!

[xukunstellation]

The Way You Move || Ding Zeren

Title: The Way You Move Pairing: Reader x Zeren Genre: Youtuber!AU + fluff Word Count: 1037 words Summary: Your subscribers have been bugging you to collab with this popular youtube dancer who also happens to be your biggest fan.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for the looooongest amount of time. I’m so behind on requests due to stuff going on in my life, but I had to take a little break and write for this boy because he makes me so happy. I haven’t seen too many fics for him, so I’m extremely happy to be writing for him. Please appreciate and love this talented boy!

it’s about time i get around to writing this

and for ya’ll to stop sleeping on him

pls stan him

i love me some ding zeren

let’s get this show on the road

you’re an up and coming famous vlogger who has been in the youtube community for a little over two years now

you’ve garnered around two million subscribers since you started 

speaking of video, your vlogs consist primarily of you filming comedy skits and pranks with your friends who refer to themselves as bc221

your most viewed video is you and yue yue dressing up as ghosts and scaring the hell out of the others

rip ziyang and ling chao 

bufan wasn’t having it tho and was ready to throw hands LMAO

your subscribers are well acquainted with seeing them on your channel

mainly bc the little shits are always trying to “convert” your subscribers over to the other side aka their own relatively popular music channel

you love them anyway

other than that, you also vlog moments of your every day life

which the audience seem to really love due to your down to earth personality

it was a refreshing contrast to how wild af you were in your other videos

you had just uploaded another video for the week where you recorded the boys during one of their practices

as you were happily liking and replying back to fan comments, you saw a common theme occurring in the comment section for the past few of your videos

most of the comments were telling you to check out this channel called yuehua dance studio

kind of like 1million dance studio who i love omg pls check them out 

specifically, they wanted you to check out this person called ding zeren who apparently was a huge fan of you

justin was the one who outted him through one of their videos and got zeren into this mess lmao

so you go to check out their dance videos

and holy shit, they were so good???

they were also hella attractive too wtf they have both beauty and talents; that’s not fair

meanwhile you’re a potato

it wasn’t hard for you to tell which one was zeren since he was usually the one front and center

you’re basically awestruck bc damn he got moves. he looked so serious and his moves were sharper than any kind of knife. no wonder he was the main dancer. he had more talent in his pinky than he did in your entire body, cries.

this talented being is a fan of you? how lucky

you figured you’d give your subscribers what they want

so you found his instagram and sent him a message asking if he’d like to collab with you for your next video

zeren almost shit his pants 

bc omfg one of his favorite youtubers had literally slid into his dms messaged him and wanted to film with him

he said yes ofc

after discussing the details, you guys agreed to meet the next day to start filming at the yuehua dance studio

fast forward to when you two finally meet

to zeren’s surprise, you were actually quite shy upon first impression (which he found even more adorable about you)

“hello, i’m (y/n). it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you greeted him sweetly

“i’m zeren. it’s nice the meet you too, even though i already know who you are. i’ve watched all of your videos,” he laughed lightly in response

“i guess my fans were right when they told me you were also a fan of mine. i’m honored,” you grinned. “i’ve watched a few of your dance videos and you’re an amazing dancer!”

even though zeren looked calm and collected, in reality he was trying not to scREaM bc he was standing in front of his idol and she liked his dancing wow what a time to be alive

before you started filming, the two of you talked in order to get to know each other more so you wouldn’t be too awkward

you saw how his eyes lit up brighter than the sun when he told you how passionately he loved to dance 

when he explained how he usually choreographed most of the dances on the channel, he got really sheepish and embarrassed when you praised him for it

you essentially hyping him up

he didn’t show it but you activated his fanboy mode good job

his confident and easy going demeanor made it really easy to get along with him as he kept making you laugh and smile

he even did the chick chick dance for you (even though he was hella embarrassed and you cringed extra hard)

iconic

that’s how much he liked you

it also helped calm your nerves bc he’s literally the dorkiest and most beautiful person you’ve ever seen

now it was time to start filming for the video

your idea was to film an expectations vs reality comedy skit

zeren was obvi the expectations and you were the reality bc you had two left feet and couldn’t dance to save your life

the whole filming process was an entire mess

ya’ll couldn’t stop laughing the entire time

he found your over exaggerated terrible dance skills hilarious (you tried to milly rock and do the shoot dance but ended up falling on your ass)

meanwhile you found his method of teaching equally as hilarious

“okay so the next part goes like this....”

“SHUUUUUUUUUU CHA CHAK WUUUUUUUSH”

“BOOM BOO TA! SUUU SUUU SUUU HA!”

“zeren wtf”

overall, filming went extremely well to the point where you had days worth of bloopers

you had to admit, you were feeling really down now that the day was over bc you were having such a good time 

luckily for you, zeren felt the same way

except he had no intention on letting you slip by his fingers that easily

“hey, (y/n?)”

“yeah, zeren?”

“let’s grab dinner together”

“as in a date?”

“only if you want it to be”

let’s just say subscribers from both of your channels completely lost their shit when you uploaded a vlog later that next day of the two of you together on your date

the end

stop sleeping on ding zeren

stan talent

stan zeren

i wrote this at one in the morning so i apologize for any mistakes-- i need some sleep