#and people who encourage you by going like no <3 like WHAT IF IT'S YES? AM I STILL LOVEABLE TO YOU?

[cloudykyu]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪mark lee, ever the stickler, has set himself a list of rules to follow until he obtains his degree and he’s had no problem sticking to it. but alas, rules are meant to be broken and mark isn’t as disciplined as he prides himself in being. especially when you smile at him like that.

pairing: student!mark x fem!reader genre: college au, fluff, very light angst, kinda slice of life, strangers to lovers word count: 11k hehe warnings: swearing, not proofread, mark is a little insufferable, reader is referred to as she/her, small food mention, they kiss but its nothing spicy, reader cries but its nothing too angsty, i'm projecting my feelings for mark here, i wrote this in 5 days

mani's notes: thank you @1ntaks for beta reading and encouraging mark delulu hours. you'll be the witness at our wedding

Ah, yes. The university library where it reeks of dread and stale paper. You thought you were the only idiot who would step foot in this place on a Friday, but you’re quickly surprised by the lack of empty tables on all three floors. Shouldn’t these people be at home preparing for the absolute ragers someone must have planned for the night? Nerds. 

You’re about to call it quits and kiss your research paper goodbye until you spot him. On the very top floor of this god forsaken library, sits a boy at one of the tables near the window. Black framed glasses are perched on his nose bridge and his equally black hair sticking up in all sorts of places. Notebooks, textbooks, and loose papers lay spread across the table as the boy goes to absolute town on writing whatever he’s working on on a piece of paper. You know that face. Of course you know that face – it’s fucking Mark Lee. 

Well, you kinda know him through the giggles and whispers that bubble up from others as they spot him on campus. He’s a total hit with the babes, but you’ve never seen Mark react to any of it. The boy is always power walking to his next destination with his lips pursed and dumb, wired earphones in. Even when someone shouts his name, loud enough to pierce through whatever song he had blasted, he’ll just look up at the source and give a nod. Never one to stop and chit-chat. Pretty interesting guy, you think. 

Knowing all this, you can tell just exactly how focused he is and start to feel bad for what you’re about to do, but he’s the only one with a table to himself, meaning he’s got extra space. “Hey,” you start off once you’re close enough. The boy's head snaps up quickly to the sound, eyes widening at the intruder (you). “I’m sorry to bother you, but you’re the only one with space at a table right now… Is it okay if I sit here with you?”

He looks around, scanning his surroundings to find that you weren’t lying. Groups of 3-4 students were huddled at each table, leaving him all alone at a place meant to seat five. “Oh, uh…” he mumbles, moving his things to create some space for you. “Sure, no problem.” 

You smile at him in thanks, pulling out a chair and taking a seat diagonal to him. He’s quick to go back to whatever he was doing, looking back down at his notes and continuing to write. “I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself, unzipping your bag to pull out your own notes. He tries his absolute best to hold back a groan, but he just lost his whole flow so he has no choice but to deadpan back at you. 

“Mark” he states simply and you’re still beaming at him despite the sour look on his face. 

The loud sound of your laptop turning on causes his eye to twitch, but you pay no mind. “Thanks for letting me sit here, Mark! I promise I won’t bother you too much.” Mark gives you nothing but a grimace in response, hoping you stick to your word. He was just on a roll before you arrived, nearly ripping his pen through his notebook paper with how intensely he was writing and now he feels like he has to take 20 deep breaths before getting back into it. And surely enough, he does.

Only a handful of minutes go by before he starts to catch your movements out of the corner of his eye. You really haven’t said a word to him, but you’re the type of student who’ll work for maybe 15 minutes, then take an even longer break. He wants to bang his head against the wall everytime you begin to fidget with your phone or click your pen over and over, or lean back in your chair and sigh, but he doesn’t. Even if Mark has a whole system for studying and you just ruined it, he’s not a bitch! 

It’s not until your 3rd break in the hour do you speak up. “I’ll be right back,” you tell him. Moving to stand up, Mark's eyes follow your movements. “Don’t move!” 

Tell that to yourself, he wants to reply. Instead, he opts for a nod of the head and an “okay.” Taking it as a sign, Mark gets back to work quickly. If he’s lucky, he’ll get through at least three modules before you come back and disturb the peace again. Now, that’s a little mean. You’re not even doing that much to bother him, but remember Mark Lee’s got his own system and rules to follow in order to keep himself on track. He’s so self-disciplined that it’s never failed him and he’d like to keep it that way, even if today kind of threw a wrench in his plans. Mark is normally always studying alone with no one even daring to approach him. His own friends are always welcomed, of course, but they never last long at Mark’s table with the way he stares them down whenever they start non-academic discussions. He doesn’t mind, though. Actually, he likes the fact that his friends respect him and his ways enough to know their limits. 

He doesn’t hear you come back, until you slide a pack of crackers towards him. You say nothing as you move the snack across the table, giving him a sweet smile that he just can’t return. “There’s no eating in the library, Y/N.” 

“So,” you shrug, plopping back into your seat. “No offense Mark, but you’re telling me you won’t break the rules for some ol’ processed fuel for the brain?” The crinkling sound of the package opening causes Mark’s eyes to blow wide once again. He turns his head fast to look around, making sure that no one bears witness to you munching on a contraband that could lead him to getting kicked out. Or worse – BANNED. 

“There’s rules for a reason,” he chides at you, whispering so others don’t hear you breaking the law. 

You roll your eyes at how frigid he’s being and turn back to your essay in front of you. The snack was just what you needed to go on. “Whatever, but I’m just saying” you wave a hand at the boy. “I spent a dollar fifty on you because I heard your stomach screaming from across the table.” Mark’s mouth opens to counter your remark, but is silenced by the rumbling feeling in his stomach. You heard it too, of course. Having heard it the whole time you’ve been sat here. 

The way his body has betrayed him leaves Mark no choice but to silently open the snack under the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him looking around frantically before shoving a cracker in his mouth. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #4 I know you’re a broke college student, but stay away from processed food as much as you can. 

You run into Mark again a few times after that day in the library. Just in passing on campus and at the coffee shop nearby, but there was never enough time for you to have a chat with him. Whenever you lock eyes with the dark haired boy, you give him your best smile and a big wave hello. Mark returns every single greeting with his own tight lipped smile and a raise of a hand before quickly looking away and continuing his business. A few passerby’s give you two a look, because no way Mark Lee just acknowledged someone. The reality is that Mark thinks you’re causing a scene with the way you’re obnoxiously waving at him and he just wants you to stop. You were hoping to see him again with enough time to actually talk to the guy. The only interaction you have with him can’t be him scolding you for buying him a snack and eating it in the library. 

That moment finally comes when you spot Mark sitting right in the middle of the quad. He’s sat criss crossed on the grass, posture straight as he stares ahead almost as if he’s meditating in the middle of campus? What an odd dude. 

You make your way over to him anyway, deciding that he needs a buddy to meditate with. “Hi Mark,” you greet, sitting cross legged next to him. He barely moves to see who has infiltrated his space, knowing only one person who’d do such a thing. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going alright,” Mark lets out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. Everything he had been trying to let go in the middle of this field starts to bubble up in a rant and it catches you off guard with the way this is the most you’ve ever heard Mark speak, but you listen intently anyway. “I swear, I swear! I packed my bag the night before like I always do, but when I got to my first class I couldn’t find my damn highlighters anywhere! Like who the freak forgets a whole 10 pack of mildliner highlighters?” You can’t help the grin that forms on your face as the boy continues to ramble on and on, some you can’t even make out because he’s drifting off to mumble to himself under his breath. “And it’s not like I could go back home to get them either, like I’m the idiot who decided to live off campus so I have like NO TIME to go and get them. I just had to sit in 3 back to back classes with no highlighters.” 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #6 make sure everything you need for the next day is packed the night before.

Mark could have gone and gotten them during this break of his, but he felt so utterly defeated. And when Mark feels like this, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself other than sit someplace and stare – which is exactly what he was doing before you showed up. “I just can’t continue my day like this,” he sighs dramatically. “But I have 2 more classes before I can call it a day.” 

He’s so weird and so dramatic for no reason. But you decide to put him out of his misery anyway, given recent events you just had (your last class). “Mildliner you say?” you hint, pulling out a yellow and a green highlighter from your pocket before handing it out to him. “It’s not a whole 10 pack, but it’s something to talk you off the ledge.” 

You watch as Mark eyes fleet between the pens in your hands and your face with a confused, yet suspicious look on his face. “I can’t take these from you. Don’t you have classes, too?” 

“Nope! I’m done for the day,” you shake your head, happily. “And they’re not mine, either. I found them on an empty desk in my last lecture so I just took them.” Mark continues to stare, deadpanning at you just like he did in the library a week before. 

“First you eat in the library when you’re not supposed to,” he counts his fingers, scoffing. “Then you take someone’s highlighters? So you’re a criminal…” 

It’s your turn to scoff, shoving the pens in the breast pocket of Mark’s jacket with a frown on your face. “I didn’t steal anything because nobody was there, Mark! Imagine how lonely they felt just being left there?!” 

Mark can’t help the way the corners of his lip turn up at the sight of you pouting and spewing ridiculous nonsense about inanimate objects, but still points a finger at you. “I’ve had two whole conversations with you starting now and both times it’s you convincing me that rules don’t exist.” 

“That’s not how you say ‘thank you’, Mark Lee,” swatting his finger out of your face, you cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. 

“I’m not thanking a thief,” he tsks, then lets out a light breath. “But considering how you saved those two lonely pens, thank you.” The small smile on the boy's face is enough to have you gushing. Standing up from your spot on the grass, you brush off any remnants from your pants and stick out a hand for him to take. 

“Come on, get up” you smile at him. He takes your hand in his and you help to lift him off the ground with a groan, to which Mark scowls at. “When’s your next class? I’ll walk you!” 

Checking the time on his watch, he informs you that his next class is pretty soon and you give him a tug to start moving. “Why are you gonna walk me? You don’t have to.” 

You ignore him and he seems to be ignoring himself too with the way he’s following at your side. He rolls his head back to loosen his neck and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as he walks with you. “Because that’s what friends are for, Mark!” you sing. “I don’t just give away free pens or spend a dollar fifty on vending machine crackers for just anyone, you know.” 

“One, they’re not yours” he corrects, giving you a side eye. “Two, I never asked you to feed me. And three, no offense, but we don’t even know each other.” 

“Hmm, true!” you hum in agreement, turning to look at his side profile. He turns his head slightly to look at you too and he can’t help but feel a little scared with the way a fire burns behind your eyes. “But I would like to get to know you more! You seem like a cool guy with your head screwed on kinda straight and I like how you’re always so focused. I need more hardworking friends like you.” 

Seeing his lecture building come into view, Mark lets out a little sigh of relief. This moment is about to get awkward and he’s thankful that he’s reached the end of your walk together. “Look, Y/N” he starts, and if he wasn’t such a Leo – so headstrong, the way you’re looking at him with hope filled eyes and chest swelled with pride almost had the words die in his throat. “I-I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m really trying hard to work towards graduation.” 

“Oh, I know” you cut him off. The interruption stops him for a little, giving you a look before continuing on. 

“And while you seem like a nice girl, I don’t have time for a relationship right now.” 

Tilting you head to the side a little, you wear a confused smile on your face. “I’m not looking to date you either, Mark. I just wanna be your friend.” He shuffles on his feet slightly in front of you, adjusting the straps of his backpack higher on his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, but the friends I have now are good enough for me” he gives you a smile, an awkward one that lets you know that he just wants this conversation to be over. “I barely have time to see them and when I do, they already keep me on my toes as it is.” 

“Oh…” With the way Mark is fidgeting in front of you, looking around at literally anything but you, you decide to let the protests die down. “Okay, Mark. I’m sorry if I stepped over a line.” You give Mark your best smile, like you always do, and gesture for him to enter his lecture building. “But thank you for letting me walk you. I won’t bother you anymore.” 

“Thank you, Y/N” he replies, looking down at his feet before walking into the building.

Settling in his unassigned, assigned seat at the front of the lecture hall, Mark plucks the two highlighters you had given him earlier out of his jacket pocket and places them gently on his desk. It definitely isn’t his 10 pack, but it’s the most at peace he’s felt all day. Mark is brought back to that day in the library. Those same words, “I won’t bother you” that you had promised to him, only for you to in fact, bother him. He has a feeling that it will happen again, but can’t dwell on it for long because he’s picturing him leaving you there by yourself as you wave goodbye to him. Not above and in the air like you had done before in passing, but a small, almost shy one with a meek expression on your face. 

He decides not to think about it. 

Mark hasn’t seen you in four days. 

It really doesn’t bother him, like, it really doesn’t even if he’s been going about his days wondering if you’ll greet him as you always do from across the way. He just REALLY needs to return the highlighters to you as he’s been reunited with his full 10 pack ever since that day, swearing to never forget them again. 

Okay, honestly, Mark thinks he was really mean to you after you walked him to class and he wants to say sorry. Also, thanks to Chenle who scolded the boy after he spilled his guts to his friend about his day with a sour look on his face. 

“She bought you a snack, gave you highlighters for free, and walked you to class and you don’t even wanna be her friend?!” he had shrieked, standing to his full height with hands on his hips. “You are SO rude, I can’t even – who raised you?!” 

Safe to say that Mark’s day did not get better after that, walking around with a permanent pout on his face as he thought about it. If he were to be so real right now, Mark would actually be the first one to spot you before you see him. After that first day in the library, for some reason, whenever he’d lift his gaze from the ground in front of him, they’d automatically zero in on your form. Those bright eyes weren’t hard to miss at all. Anyways, you had always been by yourself during those times. I mean, who would wanna be around someone who talks to the birds with a serious look on her face? Whether you were sitting somewhere in silence, staring off into space, or standing a full five minutes in front of the coffee shop menu in deep contemplation before pulling out your phone to ask Siri to flip a coin before you ordered, you were alone. 

Mark was weird, but so were you. Not that he cared as a very self aware man. He knew he had odd tendencies, he knew he could be difficult to talk to or be around, but it was all the more special when someone took the time to actually try. Might as well be weird together, right? As desperate as he was to find you, he wasn’t going to try that hard. You’ll pop up eventually. But by the fourth day, Mark had started to grow agitated. Eyes flicking around the campus a lot more than usual and taking different routes to his classes in hopes of spotting you, only to fail. Until he decided to relax his nerves with some good ol’ study time because nothing like using your brain on max power! 

Just like you had first found him before, there you were, sitting in the crowded library at a table by yourself. Your whole demeanor was opposite of Mark as you leaned back in your chair, legs outstretched under the table as you typed away on your laptop with huge headphones over your ears. Despite how fast your fingers flew across your keyboard, you looked so relaxed with your lips turned up in a small smile. He wonders what you’re thinking about. 

“Oh well,” Haechan sighs, a sarcastic tone laced in his voice. Mark decided to drag Haechan with him to the library today to basically force and beg the boy to finish his seven late assignments. “We really tried our best, Markie. Let’s go get a sweet treat to reward our efforts!” 

All Mark can do is roll his eyes at his best friend, knowing how hard he fought to not come here with him. Literally whined and complained the whole time while dragging his feet on the way to success. Mark really did try his best, giving Haechan a motivational speech about how he could do it and he was there to help him, but seeing you right there when he needed to, Haechan can go fail for all he cares. “Actually, I’m gonna stay,” he declares, turning to look at Haechan with a shrug. “I see someone I know so I’m gonna go sit with them.” 

“You know people?” Haechan gasps, bringing a hand up to his mouth in surprise. Mark shoves him by the shoulder in response, groaning. 

“Shut up!” he chides, using force to physically turn Haechan’s body towards the library exit. “I was gonna invite you to join us, but you can leave, like actually.” Haechan lets Mark manhandle him, complying with taking his happy ass out of the library as he laughs. As Mark watches Haechan wave goodbye to him, he exhales deeply, cheeks puffed to calm himself before turning back towards your direction. With each step he takes closer to you, he gives himself a little pep talk in his head and goes over everything he needs to do. First, ask to sit with you. Second, give you back your highlighters. Third, apologize for how mean he was to you four days ago. Fourth, calculus homework. Light work.

Seeing his form loom over you, you look up in surprise with your eyes wide. You quickly straighten your back and lift one side of your headphones off your ears. When you smile at Mark, even with confusion knitted between your brows, he feels a sense of ease wash over him. “Hi,” he breathes. “Is it okay if I sit with you?” Step one: CLEARED!

You say nothing, nodding at the boy with that smile on your face still. After gesturing at the seat in front of you for him to take, you avert your eyes back to your screen and adjust your headphones back into its place. Mark gladly pulls out his chair, taking his backpack off to unpack his things. Even with all the bustling movements in front of you, not once do you look up or attempt to make conversation as he settles in and Mark doesn’t know what to do next. You’re like, actually locked in, a big difference compared to when you two were first sat in this library. He guesses he could move step 4 to step 2 and complete some of his assignments before resuming with the plan. Wake his brain up a little bit, you know?

Ten minutes in and you still haven’t said a word. Still haven’t even taken a glance at him and Mark is officially bothered. He’s been working on the same problem this whole time, unable to move past the third step to solve it. He taps the end of his pencil against his notebook a few times, leg bouncing frantically, before ultimately letting the stick fall out of his hand with a sigh. Leaning back in his seat, Mark stretches his neck from side to side to relieve some tension before letting it completely fall slack, chin against his chest with his arms crossed. Back to the tapping, his pointed finger beats against his arm as he thinks about how to break the ice. When he lifts his gaze to discreetly look at you, you’re still not paying any attention to him in clear agony. His bag sits in the chair next to him, the front pockets zipper open and he sees the two highlighters you had given him. He could just slide them across the table to you in order to get your attention, but would that be enough to start a conversation? What if you just don’t accept them or throw them back in his face? Well, you let him sit here with you so he couldn’t have messed up that bad… Okay, but what if– 

Marks inner monologue was cut short when he catches your movements out of the corner of his eye. You’ve finally taken your headphones off and stretched your arms above your head. Now’s his chance, get the plan back on track. “I wanna be friends!” he blurts out, stopping you mid stretch. His outburst was pretty loud for the quiet atmosphere of the library, catching the attention of a few students nearby. Mortified, Mark feels his whole face heat up and slouches lower in his seat. He scolds himself under his breath as he places both hands on his head, lowering the brim of the hat he was sporting over his eyes. You can’t help but giggle at the blushing boy in front of you, extending your foot to give his leg a tap from under the table. He uncovers his face slightly to look at you and you grin at the expression he wears. 

“If this is about the other day, it’s really okay” you assure him, propping your elbow on the table to rest your chin in your hand. “I understand and I’m not mad at you.” 

“You’re not?” he wonders, a little surprised. When you shake your head in reply, he sits up fully and leans in a little closer to you from across the table. Mark does not need anyone hearing any more of this conversation. “I-I just wanna say sorry, Y/N. I was pretty rude to you that day when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” 

“Is that why you’ve been sitting here in distress this whole time?” you laugh, quietly. “You really don’t need to feel bad, Mark but I accept your apology anyway.” Marks smile mirrors your own, admiring the way you’ve been so accepting of the situation when he was clearly in the wrong. “But still, we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to!” he interjects, nearly jumping up in his seat. “You really are a nice person and I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more, too. I shouldn’t have treated you like that when you basically saved my life that day.” Mark moves to grab the pens from his bag, laying them out on the table for you to take. “Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to give these back to you.” 

Reaching your hand out, you scoot the pens back in Marks direction. “You can keep them as backups or something,” you wave off. “You’d probably use them more than I would anyway. I take all my notes electronically.” Pulling out your fancy tablet from your bag, you wave it around for him to see and Mark’s just in disbelief. 

“How can you retain any information that way?” he gapes, eyes popping out of their sockets. “Connecting your pen to paper helps you process your thoughts better, you know.” 

“This is better for the environment!” you argue, rolling your eyes and Mark shakes his head in disapproval. He starts going on a whole tangent about the benefits of physical note taking and you just sit there and take it. But the conversation flows easily with you and Mark talking to each other back and forth. Neither of you get back to your studies for the remainder of the afternoon. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #7 study time is quiet time (friends allowed but they need to shut up).

Heavy footsteps trudge through the halls of the lecture building, but Mark has never felt so light. Even if his shirt is wrinkled, hair all over the place, and eyes about a second away from shutting, he walks to his 8 am class with a tiny smile on his face. 

It’s been weeks since you and Mark had bloomed a friendship. Weeks filled with studying late in the library, fighting over who gets to pay for the sweet treat of the day, and gallivanting around campus as conversation fills the silence between you two. Mark had honestly thought that he’d take a while to warm up to you, but he finds it incredibly easy to open up and be himself in your presence. He likes that he can talk to you about anything and everything, and you listen to him with your full attention. Mark Lee prides himself in how strong his walls are built and how dedicated he is to his craft (being a student), but it’s like his whole resolve crumbles with the more you’re near. Ask him if he cares, because he doesn’t. 

From the moment he had entered the education system at the young age of five, he never stopped. Mark immediately enrolled in college after graduating high school, barely having time to explore the woes of life. So now in his third year of his undergrad, it felt nice to finally feel alive – do everything boys his age are supposed to do. Like last night, Mark had stayed up until midnight on the phone with you, giggling over the drama you two had started watching together during your study breaks. Even after you both had hung up the call, you two had continued to send messages to one another. By the time Mark had fallen asleep, it really wasn’t that late to the normal person, but Mark Lee has a bedtime that he did not follow. Hence, his appearance today. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #2 get a full 8 hours of sleep every night – nothing more, nothing less.

His body feels like dead weight and he can’t stop yawning, but Mark’s heart is soaring. Not that he knows it. As smart as he is, he’s also a big idiot atoning these fluttering feelings to the excitement of having a new friend around. He doesn’t think much about the fact that his favorite part of the day isn’t putting in his earphones while sat in front of a pile of textbooks anymore, but going to meet you in between classes. 

Fueled by caffeine from his second iced tea of the day (coffee makes him feel sick), Mark is basically skipping towards you sat on a bench under the tree. He can’t wait to gush to you about the new topic he’s learning about in his lit class, but the words die down in his throat when he sees the look on your face. 

You’re sat stiff on the bench, hands balled into fists as you struggle to catch your breath. Instead of greeting him with that glowing smile of yours, he’s met with a solemn Y/N. It’s like a dark rain cloud was brewing a storm over your head and when Mark approaches with a soft call of your name, he sees the tears brimming your eyes, only to fall free when he asks what’s wrong. Your lip quivers as you struggle to find the words to answer your friend and Mark feels like his whole world is falling apart. 

He moves quickly to sit next to you, arms moving to wrap around your shaking figure, but he doesn’t quite make it all the way. Everyone knows Mark is not a physically affectionate person and he’s never done anything more than shove your shoulder when you made a joke he didn’t like. This was new territory for him, to comfort a crying friend, which is why he’s sat frozen with his torso turned towards you, arms in the air, looming above your form and not making contact. Mark’s mouth gapes open and closed like a fish, thinking about what he can say to comfort you, but you take matters into your own hands and fully lean into the boy. Your face buries itself into his shirt as you wail like a baby and Mark has no choice but to finally engulf you in his arms when he feels your tears seep through the fabric. 

“Remember that project I was working on all last week?” you muffle into his chest. Mark hums in response because of course he remembers. He remembers how hard you had slaved over your project, doing your best to ensure that it was perfect. But he also remembers how excited you were to have this as your assignment, how bright your eyes had shone when you told Mark how confident you were in the topic to execute it well. This class of yours wasn’t the easiest for you, so it was like a breath of fresh air for you to finally understand something being presented. “My professor kept me after class and tore me to fucking shreds. Told me everything I had written was wrong and the whole thing was crap a-and basically said I should drop the class because I’m clearly not understanding anything!” 

All Mark does is wrap his arms tighter around you, resting his cheek atop your head. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles into your hair and you pull back abruptly, gripping his shirt in your hands. 

“Am I really that stupid?” you hiccup, screwing your eyes shut. “That my professor tells me to drop out of his class?” 

“Hey hey hey,” Mark scolds you, gripping your shoulders tight, basically shaking sense into you. “You’re not stupid, he’s stupid! You try so hard, Y/N and you shouldn’t discredit yourself like that.” 

Sniffling, you give Mark a small, yet sad smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and he’s grown furious now. “I don’t think I’m trying hard, I’m just trying my best.” 

“Then that’s all that matters,” he affirms, raising a hand to pat your hair. “Being a student isn’t easy, but you’re doing it! Don’t let one lousy professor tell you otherwise – I say you stick it to him and not drop.” 

“I don’t know…” you laugh, trailing off in thought. “There’s a lot I have to think about. If I stay, he’ll probably give me hell, but if I actually drop, I’d be saving my GPA but my pride would be hurt.” 

Mark purses his lips, then snakes his hands down to yours and pulls you up from the bench with him. “Tell you what,” he starts, tugging you to walk with him. “You don’t have to think about it right now, but how about we clear our heads and go do something?” 

You’re struggling to keep up with Mark’s quick steps, the strap of your bag slipping off your shoulder. “Do what? Don’t you have class?” you interrogate him, pulling at his arm. “And can you slow down a little?” 

He complies, slowing his walk to a normal pace and turns to you with a grunt. “What’s with all the questions? Just trust me,” he rolls his eyes and moves to stand behind you. Mark nudges you forward in the direction he wants despite your protests. “And don’t worry about my classes, I’ll take a sick day or something. I can’t just leave you by yourself after seeing you cry like that!” 

“I’m fine, Mark” shrieking, you reach behind you to make him let go of you. “It’s really okay! You don’t have to break your perfect attendance record for me.” He finally stops forcing you to come with him, stepping to the side to walk alongside you with a light hand on your back to keep you from running. 

“I don’t have to, but I want to” he smiles down at you, which you return with an unimpressed look. “What are friends for, right?” You finally give up, letting Mark take you to wherever he had in mind to do whatever. 

“Fiiine,” you relent and take a step closer to his side. “But you’re paying!” Mark smiles at you again, wrapping his arm fully around you for the second time that day in a side hug before dropping it to hang in between your bodies. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #5 DO NOT SKIP CLASS (unless you’re sick and I mean dying).

From bike riding to ice cream in the park, Mark kept you busy all afternoon. You have to applaud his efforts with the way he was constantly cracking lame jokes just to pull your face up and encouraging you (peer pressure) to let him buy you a second cup of ice cream. If you could give Mark Lee his flowers for making you feel better right now, you totally would, but instead you settled for treating him to the little Lego figurines he had been eyeing in the trinket store you visited. 

“Uhhh,” the boy basically moans in delight. “Since we didn’t go to class, this is perfect to stimulate our brains!” 

You chuckle at how ridiculous he is and how silly he looks. The two of you are sat on a picnic table in a random park, unboxing your figurines to build. Mark had picked a hippo and a penguin while you just chose to build a cat. The excitement is basically rolling off his body as he vibrates in his seat, tearing into the box and plastic bag containing the pieces. “You that excited?”

Mark makes a face at you from across the table, almost as if he’s offended. “Of course I am! For ages 8 and up, easy work dude” he basically brags, chest puffing up. “Thank you for getting these, Y/N. I didn’t mean to linger on them long enough for you to feel like you had to get them.”

“I wanted to,” you chirp, shaking your head. “It’s the least I could do for you after all you’ve done for me today.” He says nothing, glancing at you for a moment before continuing to build his penguin. A grin slips onto his face as he watches you struggle with the tiny pieces, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

You both continue to build in silence, enjoying each others company as the sun starts its journey to dreamland. The sky is painted in hues of gold, pinks, and blues, the warmth starting to settle between you two. Mark notices the rays coming down on his skin at looks up at the beautiful sight, quickly pulling his phone out to snap a picture. 

“I have to send this to my friend, Renjun” he hums, satisfied look on his face. “He’s gonna love this.” 

You coo at Mark and he ignores you, finishing up his penguin. “You send your friend pictures of the sunset often?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, busying his fingers with the pieces. “Renjun’s an artist so I like to send him stuff I think looks pretty. Maybe he’d draw it or something, but he never asked me to stop so I just keep doing it.” 

Biting down on your lip, you have to contain your smile and squeals at how endearing this guy was. “I hope he’s drawn at least one of them” you voice. “I know if someone sent me pictures of every sunset, I’d cherish it.” 

Mark laughs in response, but trails off as he starts to think. He’s finished his penguin now, rolling the figure between his fingers. It’s only the size of his palm, but he doesn’t think he’ll get to finish the hippo as this took him nearly an hour. It’ll be dark soon. 

“Y/N,” he starts somewhat sheepish. “Why don’t you have any friends?” 

His question freezes you in your seat and you eye him from under your lashes. “I have friends,” you utter. “I’m friends with my roommate.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters. With the way the air has shifted, Mark feels as if he hit a nerve. “It’s just t-that everytime I see you on campus, you’re alone! I don’t really see you talking to anyone else…” 

Also finished with your cat figure, you fold your hands into your lap and stare it down. “Is that a bad thing?” 

He shakes his head furiously, reaching a hand across the table to tap on it and get your attention. “No, no! Not at all” he insists and takes your cat to stand next to his penguin. “I was just curious, I’m sorry if I made you upset.” 

Looking back up at the boy across of you, the corners of your mouth turn up to give him a small grin. “It’s okay, Mark. There’s nothing wrong with asking questions” you explain. “It’s not like I don’t want friends, I just don’t really know how to make them? I’m not the type of person to strike up a conversation out of the blue… Even with group projects, it’s a little hard for me to open up.” 

“You?” Mark scoffs. “Not the type of person to make conversation with strangers? Then how do you explain how we became friends.” To prove his point, Mark inches your Lego figures closer together. 

“I guess you’re right,” you laugh, throwing your hands in the air. “I don’t really know what’s up with me then. But at least I have you now, right?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, chuckling to himself too. “Yeah, you got me now. So don’t you worry, Y/N. I’ll send you pictures of every sunset I capture.”

You bring your hands together, clasping them against your cheek as you look out into the horizon. Watching the bright sky paint itself in an array of different colors before it says goodbye for the day, you’ve never felt more content. And Mark does the same, eyes following the rays of gold bleed into pink, but he doesn’t think he can enjoy it as much as you do right now.

He just can’t believe that he’s here with you in a random park in the city. Instead of sitting in class, he’s sitting at a table building animals out of extremely tiny Lego pieces. Mark didn’t even send his professors a courtesy email that he wasn’t going to be present today, too focused on helping you feel better. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he was also busy trying to forget that gloomy look on your face. It was the first time Mark had ever seen you cry, and he hopes it will be the last. 

A part of him also understands you. The overwhelming pressure of having to do well and not wanting to wave a white flag for the sake of your confidence in yourself. Mark knows it all too well. He also knows how hard it can be to make friends here. No one ever attempts to get to know Mark, only approaching to ask if he’d accompany them on a romantic date or help them pass their classes. It took him a while to learn how to say no, and thank God he did. He’s content in his little bubble with the good friends he has, but sometimes he wonders what life would be like if he just gave in. Who would Mark Lee be if he wasn’t so stubborn in his ways?

“Y/N,” he begins again. “Do you think I’m difficult?” 

Turning your gaze away from the darkening sky, you give Mark a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” 

“Like,” he sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks down at the table in front of him, chewing on his lip. “Do you think I’m hard to deal with? Am I too stubborn to talk to?” 

His explanation doesn’t fix your confusion, continuing to look at him funny. “No, Mark. It’s very easy for me to be around you,” you correct him, moving a hand to gesture between both your bodies. “I’m sat here with you— our first time hanging out off campus, by the way, after you comforted me while I cried into your shirt earlier today.”

“This was the most fun I’ve had in a while!” you continue, gushing when Mark doesn’t respond. “I’m not sure what’s going on in that big head of yours, but I enjoy your company. Heck, I asked you to be my friend during our second meeting! You are anything but difficult.” 

Mark looks up, taking in the sight of you sat across of him. The sky has turned into a pretty pink as the sun has started it’s descent closer to the horizon and it’s casted over you beautifully. There must be a magic in the air that has sparked a look in your eyes that is so comforting. He’s been wary of the elation he’s felt since the day he met you. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but in that moment, Mark has never been so sure in his life about going against everything he set himself up for.

“Come on,” Mark smiles and nods his head towards the path. “Let’s go home.” 

Johnny hears shuffling from Marks room and decided to peak in. Cracking the bedroom door open, he’s met with the boy pacing back and forth, combing his hand through his hair frantically. He can hear Mark mumbling to himself, using his hands to express whatever he was feeling to himself. “Dude,” Johnny calls out and Mark snaps his head towards the sound so fast, he thinks he’s got whiplash. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Fuck if I know!” he roars, placing both hands on his head. “If anyone can tell me what’s wrong with me, PLEASE DO.” 

The older boy sighs, stepping through the threshold as he prepares himself for what’s about to come. He’s used to Mark being on edge, but this is the guy who apologizes whenever he swears. “Come here, buddy” Sat on Marks’ bed, Johnny pats the seat beside him and Mark obliges. His head is hung low and lips set into a deep pout. “Tell Johnny what’s wrong.” 

Mark lets out a sigh of his own, whining as he falls back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. He had just woken up from his 3pm nap he takes every other day that lasts precisely an hour and a half. Two hours if he feels like treating himself, but today, Mark had woken up in a cold sweat just a little after 8pm. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #3 if you need a nap, only nap on MWF when you end classes early (only nap for 2 hours MAX).

As soon as he sat up, eyes blown wide, he let out a hushed “oh fuck.” He’s usually so tired that he never dreams. Ever. But this time, all he could see in his slumber was you. You, who he had seen just a few days ago after ditching classes. Forget everything he felt and thought that day because it was starting to feel a little too real.

It came to him in flashes, like he was in some sort of stupid movie. From walking down the street together, to banging on rigged claw machines, to simply sitting across of you at the picnic table in the park, Mark dreamt of every moment you had spent with him. Except, whenever he laid eyes on you, the whole world had slowed down to a serene still and tints of light illuminated around your entire being. And when you smiled like you always did, little bells started chiming. 

Oh, the bells. That dream was straight out of those romance movies Haechan likes to watch regularly. What kind of sick world is this? 

“I’m so screwed, man” he voices, rubbing a hand over his face. “I-I think I like Y/N. Whatever that means…” 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Johnny muses. “If you like her, then you like her. Y/N’s that girl you’ve been hanging around with a lot?” 

Mark sits up fully, head still hanging low. He can’t believe he’s having this conversation right now, even if he lowkey knew it was coming. “Yeah, that’s her” he mumbles. “I swear she hexed me or something! I skipped class the other day to hangout with her, been eating way too many vending machine snacks, and haven’t been getting my full 8 hours of sleep, bro! That’s so not like me.” 

“First of all, you’re an idiot. Girls aren’t witches, they’re just celestial beings” Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes at his young friend. “Second of all, did she force you to do all those things?” 

“What? No,” Mark protests. “I wanted to do all those things, with her.” 

“Okayyy,” Johnny rolls. “Are your grades slipping from ditching or not sleeping?” 

Mark blinks at the boy sitting next to him. “No, I’m a week ahead in all my classes.”

“Then what’s the problem here, man?” Johnny belts, standing to his full height. “Cause I’m not seeing it!” 

Still sat on his bed, Mark stomps his feet a little as he whines. “Johnny” he complains. “The problem is I’ve broken every single rule I made for myself. For just one person! Like I said, this isn’t like me and I’m not sure how to handle it.” 

“Look Mark,” Johnny chastises, moving to sit next to him again on the bed. “I love you, dude. I really do and I admire how hard you’re working towards your education, but I wish you would just let yourself breathe a little.” Mark sits in silence, taking in every word. “I’m so glad that you’ve been following these rules you set for yourself and it’s been working, but why are you stopping yourself from experiencing something everyone dreams of? Why are you so scared?” 

Great question that he doesn’t really know the answer to. He’s not scared of you, exactly. Marks more scared of the feelings you give him. You’re not trying to change his ways or who he is, in fact, you’ve been trying your damn hardest to fit yourself into Marks usual routine. You don’t make fun of him for his little quirks and comments and he likes how comfortable you make him feel. He likes how you just go with the flow of things, making it a breeze to just enjoy himself in that moment with you. Mark likes how he no longer feels the weight of the world when he’s around you. 

Mark likes you. But he’s never felt this way before about anyone. Not even Jessica Alba in Fantastic Four while all his friends were drooling over their TV screens. 

With pursed lips, Mark looks up to his friend with pleading eyes. “What do I have to do?” 

“That’s not the question you should be asking,” Johnny smiles at him, shaking his head lightly. “You’re the most hardworking guy I know, no matter what you’re doing. Are you willing to put in that same effort with Y/N?” 

Later that night, Mark lays awake and stares at his ceiling in the dark. He’s got one arm folded under his head and the other laid across his chest, deep in thought about the conversation he had with Johnny. He took way too long of a nap, so now he can’t fall asleep. Not to mention how his phone had been pinging with messages from you, but they remained unanswered as he contemplated. 

What was he to do with you? 

He could just pretend that he never had this groundbreaking realization. He could continue to remain the way he is with you, just friends. Mark doesn’t even know how you’d react to his feelings, but he can’t say he’s afraid to find out. Even if you were to turn him down, tell him he’s got no chance at romance, he doesn’t think he’d mind. Like yeah, he’d be pretty devastated, but who wouldn’t be? After talking with Johnny some more earlier today, he realizes how sure he is with the way his heart feels. He’s dumbfounded that this is happening to him, but he’s not embarrassed at all. Who knew that you, who had wanted to be his friend after only meeting for the second time, would be the one to change his entire view? Mark didn’t even want to be your friend at first, but here he is, possibly wanting something more. 

You probably would think the switch was so sudden and Mark wouldn’t be able to tell you anything else. He doesn’t think you’re the type to completely cut him out if you don’t feel the same way, but there’s always that small chance in anything. He doesn’t know what to do with you, but he also has no clue what he would do without you. Groaning into the night air, Mark turns over to his side. He’s face to face with the bright numbers on his alarm clock that read 1:27 AM. Deciding to leave this problem to tomorrows Mark, he screws his eyes shut and tries to force himself to sleep. But he just lays there, staring at the dark behind his eyes still completely awake and tries to think of something that will put him to bed. And oh of course, all Mark can see is you. 

He lets you consume him, taking every glimpse of you in and god damn Y/N, you are doing nothing to help! Marks leg starts to shake under the covers, twitching himself awake til he starts tossing and turning. Eventually, Mark gives up. He can’t get comfortable at all. Ripping his comforter off his body, Mark moves quickly to stand up and shoulder on a flannel that draped over his desk chair. Hasty fingers grab for his glasses and his phone before he books it out the door to God knows where.

No, Mark knows where he’s going in the dead of night. After walking you home the other day, he realized just how close you two were, living just a 10 minute walk away. But with the way Mark is moving, he finds himself standing outside of your apartment building in just 7 minutes. He’d move to enter, but he doesn’t actually know which unit you live in. So like the completely sane person he is, Mark starts shouting into the night, disturbing the peace. 

“Y/N!” he howls, hands cupped over his mouth. There’s a few lights he can see on through the windows, but none of them show movement. “Y/N, it’s Mark!” 

There’s only one window that’s open, and Mark sees the curtains tear open. There you stand, looking down at him from the fourth floor with disbelief all over your face. “Mark!” you whisper shout. This boy must have lost his damn mind to disturb you and your neighbors at this time, after ignoring your messages all night. “Are you insane?” 

“Just come down, please” he brings his hands together, in a begging and pleading gesture. “I have to talk to you.” 

Sighing, you move away from your window and start to make your way down to the front of your building. You’re praying to whoever’s listening that you don’t get any complaints in the morning from Mark screaming in the courtyard. Like seriously, he could have just called you quietly on his phone. You can see it hanging out of his pocket, but you assume he really is out of his mind when you take in his form. 

He’s pacing again, fidgeting as you approach him closer and only snaps out of it when he sees you in the glow of the dim street lamps. “Hi,” he exhales and you just continue to eye him suspiciously. 

“Hi,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s going on, Mark? It’s nearly 2 AM, you could have just called me.” 

Mark smiles sheepishly at you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he mumbles, kicking the ground underneath him. “I wasn’t really thinking…” 

“Clearly,” you muse, grinning at him. This is the most casual you have ever seen Mark, who never leaves the house unless he’s in a pair of jeans or nice pants. You can tell how much of a hurry he was in, dressed in old basketball shorts and slippers on his feet. The flannel he was wearing over his white tee was also inside out, but you don’t point it out to him. “But you’re thinking about something to come all the way here. What did you wanna tell me?” 

“Uhhh,” he stutters, eyes darting around the dark, avoiding your gaze. “I didn’t wake you, right? I’m really sorry for not calling first.”

You shake your head no, waving him off. You were already awake, but it’s the weekend tomorrow so you have nothing to be up early for. The only important thing you were doing was doom scrolling on your feed. Mark would have known you were still awake if he had just checked his damn phone. Even if he wasn’t interrupting anything important, you still wish that Mark would spit it out. He just nods at your explanation, still not meeting your eyes and says nothing. 

“Hey,” you call out, poking his middle with your finger. He caved into it, swatting your hand away because Mark Lee is ticklish. “Take your time, find the words. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” 

Mark finally looks into your eyes, softening at the way they’re pouring into his. Your lips are curled into the prettiest smile and Mark thinks you have really nice teeth. It’s all enough to squeeze at his heart, causing his blood to pump furiously in his chest. He feels it tighten and tighten, until it finally explodes.

“I’m all bent outta shape, dude” he rants, staring right at you. “And it’s all because of you!” 

You frown at his confession, wondering if he really came all the way over here just to call you out. “What did I do to you, dude?“ 

His shoulders slump and he rubs at his eyes. Sleep is finally getting to him now that he’s here, but Mark has always been way too good and getting what he wants to give up. “Everything,” he basically whines like a child. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Mark looks to the sky, eyes screwed shut as he lets out a long exhale. You’re still confused as to what he’s trying to get at, but seeing him so perplexed himself has you concerned. 

“Mark,” you coax, touching his arm lightly to bring him back down to Earth. “If I did something to upset you, I’m really sorry. But could you please tell me exactly what happened so I can fix it?” 

Eyeing when your hand meets his skin, he smirks lightly at the tingling waves that shot up his arm. He taps the hand that connects him in a reassuring manner before completely engulfing it in his own. “I’m just being dramatic, it’s not that bad” he offers, stroking a thumb over your knuckles. Goosebumps peak through your skin at the gesture. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just…” 

He trails off, looking down at your intertwined hands. “I have these rules for myself, called ‘Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone’ and I’m not trying to one up everyone I meet with this. It’s all just to help me succeed and be my best self as a student” he’s nervous as he wears his heart on his sleeve for you when he hears you laugh, but it quickly dissipates when you give his hand a squeeze in reassurance. Come on, it was a funny name! “And I’ve been really good at following them! It’s definitely helped me to stay on track, but from that first day we met in the library, I’ve just been breaking all of them.”

“Oh,” you gasp, quickly letting go of him to shy into yourself. “I’m sorry, Mark. Really, I never meant for you to go off track.” 

“No, it’s okay!” he assures you, grabbing his hand back into his. In the middle of 70 degree weather, Mark felt cold for the split second you let go. “It’s not your fault and I don’t mind it at all. My point is, it’s just not like me at all to do this and I didn’t realize why until now.” 

“I’m so used to being strict in my ways because it’s been working well for me, but here you come along, making it so unbelievably easy to forget it all,” you’re still not sure what he’s hinting at, but you continue to let him talk. “Forget it and realize that it’s not so bad as long as I’m with you, Y/N. I like that I can still be myself without all these rules or barriers, I can still sit in the library all night with you sleeping across of me.”

Mark can’t help the smile on his face at how wide your eyes have blown, almost as if you couldn’t believe what he was alluding to. He also can’t believe it, but the more he speaks, the more it feels right. Even if he feels like he’s saying a whole lotta nothing. But it’s something alright and you feel your heart start to beat a little quicker. You hope Mark can’t tell how your hands have started to clam up and tremble in his hold. 

“I like the feeling you give me, that everything’s gonna be okay and I have nothing to worry about” he beams at you, steadying your shakiness with a tight grip. “I like you, Y/N.” 

You say nothing, taking it all in. Mark starts to shuffle on his feet, loosening his hold on your hand but not fully letting go so you can’t book it inside. He should speak up and add that you don’t have to respond to him right now, because it really is sudden. It just felt like a good time to tell you, even though 2 AM is never a good time for anyone. But you cut him off before you get the chance, grinning like a Cheshire Cat at the nervous boy in front of you.

“You didn’t even wanna be my friend at first,” you point out, tapping your chin in thought with your free hand. “Now here you are, holding my hand and confessing to me in the dead of night?” You’re teasing him and he knows it. 

“Ugh, I know” he exclaims, looking like a kicked puppy. “I’m just a stupid, dumb, idiot boy and I really felt bad for how I treated you that day.” You giggle quietly, stopping him from dropping to his knees in front of you to beg for forgiveness. “I know this all came so fast and I know I have a lot to learn. A lot of things to grow into, but I feel like I can do that as long as I’m planted next to you.”

The taunting coo you let out does nothing to cover the blush rushing to your cheeks. You move your arms to wrap fully around his neck, standing on your tip toes to hide your flushed face in his shoulder. Mark reciprocates, encircling you in his hold completely as he pulls you closer to him. “You’re so cute” you squeal, nuzzling your face closer and inhaling his scent. “You’re so sweet, Mark. I will gladly plant myself next to you.” 

You pull away slightly, still face to face with the boy who is also blushing. He’s fighting back a smile, the apples of his cheeks making a prominent appearance. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” he’s so clueless with the way he asks you the question, causing you to laugh again. If anyone were overlooking the two of you right now, all smiles and blushing messes, they’d think you’re insane. 

“Do you want me to be?” you press further and Mark nods his head vigorously. His hold tightens around you for the nth time that night.

“Can I be honest real quick?” he utters, staring deep into your eyes. He’s been honest this whole time, you don’t know why he needs to ask. “I’m kinda scared…”

You pat his shoulder reassuringly, standing further on your toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “We can go as slow as you’d like, Mark. I’ll be here all the way.” Mark feels a wave of warmth wash over him, suddenly feeling bold and straightens his back. 

“I think you missed,” he states. You’re back to wondering what the hell he was talking about until you feel his lips on yours. 

The kiss is soft, short, but sweet. It’s enough to unleash a cage of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough for Mark to know exactly how you feel, even if you never said it. 

Pulling away, you two share a shy smile as you lean your forehead against his. You play with the hair on the nape of his neck as you lean back in for another. So much for going slow, Mark thinks as he’s basically clawing at your sides to pull you unbelievably closer to him. He breaks away first this time, leaning into your neck as if he can’t get enough of you. 

“Go home, Mark” you laugh at the tickling feeling against your skin. “I’ll see you after we’ve both had some rest, okay?” 

He only sighs loudly and dramatically before pulling back, reluctant to release his hold on you. His feet step away from you slowly, towards the direction of his own apartment building. Mark doesn’t want to go. Mark wants to spend all his time with you, even in the middle of the night, but he listens to your request anyway. You’ve gotten him wrapped around your finger, after all. He knows you’ll have all the time in the world, starting now and he can’t wait for the days to come. 

Mark Lee’s guide to being better than everyone: rule #1 no dating of any kind to prevent distraction (90 and above or no love).

Spoiler: Mark keeps his 3.9 GPA until graduation and graduating with honors is literally nothing compared to the love you shower him in.

mani's notes: i hope you enjoyed reading this! yk true cloudykyu fashion is no real plot lines and whiplash time skips lol it's my first long fic since coming back so i would appreciate any feedback :D please let me know your thoughts in the tags or my ask box!! <3 happy valentines day unless you're mark lee

[edge-oftheworld]

but what if i AM going insane what if i DO have bad brains and crazy dreams and low self esteem though? what if 'my friend' IS a slob?

[capetowncapers]

Being queer and closeted is all about hearing a family member refer unknowingly to your partner and sitting there like >:) you’ve fallen into my trap… they’re a household name now >:)

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[runningwithscizzorz]

(1)Learn the rules before you break them + Gather proper references

(2) Understand what you want to break and how

(3) Can't do it? Find someone who can

(4) It's going to look really bad for a while

(5) Have fun with it!

(1) -Yes, I am that kind of artist. Yet, not in the conventional way. I encourage people to go in guns blazing when it comes to drawing something new, then coming out analyzing what they know, and what they need to learn more of right away.

-Here, I broke down the anatomical pieces of Nour and Narinder's face with the same labels so you guys can understand this weird invisible pattern that I follow in my work. Doing this with any animal you're attempting to draw greatly improves your line confidence when drawing different face shapes. Also understanding the biological function for why animals look a certain way helps you keep consistency.

(3) Time to throw any artistic guilt you have for heavily referencing people's art OUT THE WINDOW and start ANALYZING PEOPLE'S WORK YOU WANT TO BE LIKE✨ I've always done this, having a reference of someone else's amazing work right next to my own drawing so I can try and understand how they make their magic work! No shame, no embarrassment, nada. Pure, unadulterated will and spite that I would be just as good as the artist who made me so motivated and happy with their work! I couldn't figure out how to make Nour's face both sheep-like, and humanly expressive, so I looked at a LOT of Zootopia and old Disney art for help!

(2) With how I draw narilamb, I'm still working on it (as you can see) but I wanted to break Narinder's face to be fluffier and slimmer, while Nour's face would be shorter and flatter. If you look at it for too long, it's absolutely going to look weird, in the way that if you look at Anna from Frozen for too long she starts looking really weird. The anatomy isn't meant to be correct or consistent, it's meant to convey the emotion and energy I want out of the characters in that moment. If you're able to properly get that across, then you don't need to think about how broken something looks, as long as your eye is happy enough to trick your brain into thinking what you're seeing is canny.

(4) Yeah, I hate this part too. It's going to look like shit at first. I can't even look at my art from a few months ago when I was figuring out their designs... God, so fucking ugly. If it weren't for the shittiness of those drawings, I would have never gotten here! Wading through the "trust the process" stage always really sucks, but it's absolutely worth the relief of when you finally get something to look right.

(5) Art is work, yes. It's stressful, it's long, it's straining, its draining, it's exclaiming, blah blah blah. But, I try to keep my art FUN. If I find my artwork becoming slow as I depressingly drag my pen over my tablet, I'm failing. You MUST keep spirit and life in your work. The spirit of emptiness or the life of sadness can have a very meaningful place in art, but those can only exist with keeping work light, easy, and fun! If you're stressing how a specific thing looks or how you can't get something to look right no matter what, FUCK IT. Draw something to bring the flavor back in your work! I'm kind of rambling, but just, HAVE FUN!✨️ Be messy, scream, laugh, slash canvases, throw paint, smash sculptures, tear apart books, GO CRAZY

[ilydeku]

izuku loves to talk about you during interviews

- anything and every topic it will ALWAYS be about you

- the question won't even be remotely related to you and still izukus answer will revolve around "y/n, my wife!!" <3

- oh, the glint in his eyes, the peaking smile when he speaks about you, lover boyyy

- the media knows he LOVE LOVES you, they think it's funny for this big, confident, mighty hero to be reduced to sap when it comes to you

- it's like his whole personality is HIS WIFE

- the journalists lowkey get so SICK of him for this, they don't want to invite him anymore 😭

- but they kinda have to, due to to his status as #1

"Good evening everyone and welcome Hero Talk! Tonight we'll be staring someone you all know and love, single handedly the greatest hero of all time, Deku! Alright, Deku how are you tonight?"

"Feeling pretty good! This is one of my wife's favorite shows, so I'm even more grateful to be here. And how are you?"

"Oh, same old. Really, just living. Now, we wanted to ask you some fun questions. Let's start with this one. Why did you want to become a hero?"

"Wow, haha! That really brings be back to my youth. When I was kid, my biggest influence was All Might, and he miraculously became my mentor. He was a good hero, and a good man. I wanted to be just like him: fearless, persevering, saving people with I smile. I would beg my mom everyday to watch this video on the computer of him saving a bunch a people. I was really swayed by All Might. I wanted to become a hero to make an impact in the world. I wanted to save people with a smile too."

"That sounds really endearing, Deku. I remember All Might's reign. He wasn't number one on the top charts all those years for nothing. So, did you ever think you'd be standing as Japan's top hero?"

"Well, it was never really my goal to become number one. That was Kacchan's- Dynamight's. My dream was, like I said, to become a hero and save others. But I have to say, it really is a blessing. I'd like to thank my Mom, All Might, my friends, and especially my wife for who I've become. My Mom has really done a lot for me growing up: protecting, encourage, and just always caring for me. All Might has kinda been that father figure for me when my Dad was away. My friends have shown me what it's like to work together and really be part of a heart. And my wife? Haha...I can't thank her enough for all the times she's been right by my side, even before we were together. Nothing I can say or do will ever be enough to express how much she means to me."

"Mm. Quite the supportive group. Your wife sounds like quite the lady!"

"She is. She's wonderful."

"Moving on to the next question, do you use social media often?"

"Occasionally, yes?? My wife uses it regularly, posting about us when we go out and stuff. It's mostly for her family to see how she's doing. She handles most of my official accounts. She says it's to be more appealing to the public, and I guess to show that there's more to heroes on the inside?? I'm not really sure, but I trust her process. Although, I'd rather be appealing to her alone."

"The public will always interested in a hero's private life! Now, Deku, what is your ideal setting of relaxation?"

"My wife doesn't like places that are too crowded or noisy, so maybe a cozy day at the beach?- but early in the morning or in the evening when the crowds calm down. Maybe a movie theatre, but days after the movie is released so it's just us together. Actually, a lazy day at home together is great too! Cooking meals and watching a movie on the couch? Really, any place is relaxing if my wife is with me."

(am i questioning Deku's wife or Deku!?) "How scenic! Those sound very fitting for you!! How about any restaurants?"

"Not really. My wife really knows how to cook, it's amazing! I love her home-cooked meals, so there's no way I'd go out of my way to a restaurant. But if my wife is feeling it, I'll be sure to make reservations."

"(sigh)"

"(smiling warmly)"

[bibluebutterfly]

Seeing a lot of people start hate on Helluva and how it portrays Greed compared to Lust And Gluttony, so let’s get into my 2 cents. This may be controversial, but I do think Helluva portrayed the sins well and here’s why.

Yes, on the outside, Mammon is definitely the most asshole of the sins we’ve seen so far, but this DOESN’T mean that Bee or even Ozzie are angels.

First of all, Bee ONLY stopped Blitz because he was indulging for PRIDE, not for Gluttony. With all of her other guests, she was more than okay with letting them get complete shit faced to a destructive degree.

As for Ozzie, it’s been proven via “Ozzie’s” that he okay with cheating, going so far as to praise Stolas for it. He’s aware Stolas risked everything for the affair, and praised him for doing so. He straight up encourages people to be as kinky and as nasty as they possibly can. Basically for him, if it’s consensual, go wild.

(Not to mention, he’s in a healthy, loving GAY relationship with his jester. While not inherently bad, it’s more than enough to make a deeply traditional Christian faint. Which does kind of seem to be the goal for the show.)

In the end: Ozzie and Bee are just as destructive as Mammon is. HOWEVER, they are so in a way where it’s not as obvious and they’re not as bad because of it.

Because they only fully indulge in Lust and Gluttony 110%, they’re still able to be relatively decent people because completely indulging in those sins doesn’t inherently make you an asshole. It can make you hella harmful, especially mixed with other sins, but on their own they’re somewhat manageable. (I say somewhat because again: cheating and health destruction are a thing).

Also it should be noted that despite being nice people Bee and Ozzie are still HORRIBLE influences. Like if they’re those people who your parents will disapprove of you being friends with.

But besides that, you can be lustful and gluttonous to 110% and still be a nice person to be around. Not a good person, but a nice one.

HOWEVER, you cannot be greedy to the max and be a nice person.

Here’s the thing; Mam, Bee, and Oz don’t have limits to their own sins. All 3 are still destructive as hell, it’s just that Bee and Oz’s sins allow them to have healthy relationships DESPITE that.

Bee, for all her faults, is a wild party girl. However, her gluttonous nature also allows her to completely indulge in love and affection, hence why she can have such an adorable relationship with Tex.

Ozzie is equally as wild but is also horny and kinky as fuck. But it works because Fizz is just as crazy in bed as he is, and arguably even crazier in general. Fizz is a kinky little gremlin who not only makes Ozzie laugh, but more importantly can keep up with him. That’s part of what allows them to be as happy and wholesome as they are.

Mammon however, cannot be at his sin 110% and keep a relationship. It’s just not possible and I honestly don’t think he wants a relationship with someone anyway, as that means he’d have to share something with another person, which he is simply not capable of doing.

In the end, all the sins are destructive. That’s just fact. However, because of their specific sins (and the fact that they don’t mix with the others), some are able to hold up healthier lifestyles and relationships than others.

[cinnamonest]

I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.

I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.

The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:

Most women have rape fantasies.

62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!

The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)

To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:

the "go to therapy!" line

Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)

Here are some particularly insightful resources:

1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.

2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).

3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)

4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.

5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.

the "why would you want that?" line

The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.

the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line

On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.

The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.

No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.

ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.

Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:

(X) (X)

The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth

Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.

The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:

1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)

2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.

What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).

Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.

You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!

[bloomzone]

2025: #3 STOP DISRESPECTING YOURSELF

Let’s have a serious conversation When was the last time you truly prioritized yourself? Not just physically—mentally, emotionally, spiritually? When was the last time you stood up and said, “Enough is enough. I deserve better than this”? Because if you’re constantly tolerating disrespect—from others or WORSE, from yourself—then it’s time to hit PAUSE and reevaluate.

Disrespecting yourself doesn’t always look obvious. It sneaks in through the BACK DOOR of your life. It looks like staying in toxic relationships that drain you because you’re scared of being alone. It looks like saying “yes” to people when you’re dying to say “no.” It looks like putting your dreams, health, and happiness on hold for someone who wouldn’t even do the same for you ET LE PIRE every time you allow that, you’re telling yourself you don’t matter as much as you should.

BFR Why do we do this? Why do we settle? It’s because somewhere along the line, we were told—or we believed—that our value comes from being liked, accepted, or useful to OTHERS. But that’s a lie. Your value has nothing to do with anyone else. It’s intrinsic. You were born with it. And the longer you rely on others to validate you, the further you’ll drift from your true selllfff

FIRST What Self-Respect Really Means

Self-respect isn’t just about cutting people off or putting up walls. It’s deeper than that. It’s about knowing who you are, what you stand for, and what you’re no longer willing to tolerate. It’s about treating yourself like someone you’re responsible for—because you are. You have a duty to yourself, just like you might feel you have a duty to your family, friends, or job... Respecting yourself means showing up for yourself every single day, even when it’s hard, even when no one else is clapping for u. It means keeping the promises you make to yourself because if you can’t trust yourself, who else can !?!??

SECOND:The Role of Toxic People

AHM .. the people in your life. Some of them are toxic. You know who they are. The ones who belittle your ambitions, drain your energy, and make you feel small. The ones who take and take and take but give you nothing in return (I HATE THEM OMFGGG) you cannot grow in an environment that poisons you. I know it’s hard to let go. Maybe you’ve invested years in these relationships. Maybe you’re scared of being alone. But staying in the wrong environment out of fear is the quickest way to lose yourself. Letting go doesn’t mean you hate them—it means you love yourself more.

THIRD: How to Start Loving and Respecting Yourself

1. Cut the Noise

Take a step back from social media, toxic relationships, and anything else that’s feeding your insecurities. Spend time alone to figure out who you are and what you need.

2. Set Non-Negotiables

Create a list of things you will and will not tolerate. Stick to it, no matter how hard it feels. These boundaries aren’t to punish others—they’re to protect you.

3. Prioritize Your Well-Being

Start small. Drink water. Move your body. Journal your thoughts. These aren’t luxuries; they’re necessities. You can’t pour from an empty cup, so stop running yourself dry for people who wouldn’t do the same for you.

4. Learn to Say No

Saying “no” isn’t selfish; it’s necessary. Every time you say “yes” to something that drains you, you’re saying “no” to something that could uplift you.

5. Surround Yourself with Support

Find people who build you up, not tear you down. People who respect your boundaries and encourage your growth.

REMEMBER Self-Love Isn’t Selfish

Let’s clear something up: loving yourself doesn’t mean you’re selfish, arrogant, or closed off. It means you recognize that your needs, dreams, and happiness are just as important as anyone else’s. It means you’re willing to do the hard work to heal, grow, and become the best version of yourself.But here’s the catch: no one is coming to save you. No one is going to hand you self-respect on a silver platter. You have to create it. You have to show up for yourself every single day, even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it feels like you’re taking on the world alone. Because at the end of the day, you are the only constant in your life AT THE END OF THE DAY THE ONLY PERSON WHO STAY WITH U IS YOUUU WHY TF I DON'T NOTICE THAT ???

✒️..Stop disrespecting yourself. Stop breaking promises to yourself. This is your wake-up call. Respect yourself enough to walk away from what’s harming you, even if it’s hard. Love yourself LOVE YOURSELF enough to invest in your growth, even when no one’s watching. You are the most important project you will ever work on. Start acting like it.

📇 @bloomzone

[moonstruckme]

hiiiii mae!! hope ur having a good day/night, i was wondering if you would do a emt!marauders (or just remus) fic with a reader who maybe has past medical trauma or something so she really hates going to the doctors and avoids unplanned visits at all costs and one day she gets hurt doing something and she tells herself she’s fine but she’s really not (maybe she has like a concussion or something) and she tries to tell the boys she’s okay and she doesn’t need to go to the hospital but they’re like “yes you do u literally don’t know what day it is” and she kinda starts freaking out and they comfort her????

so sorry if you’ve done something like this you’ve written a LOT of fics (which is amazing i love them all) and i haven’t gotten the chance to read them all yet! anyways hope you have a great day i love ur fics so much!!!!!!

Thank you for your request, love you <3

cw: concussion, hospital mention, implied medical fear/past trauma

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 770 words

“This is supposed to be the sort of thing that only happens to old ladies,” Sirius mutters. “Look at James, dollface.” 

James’ smile is encouraging. “He knows he’s full of shit. We see people fall in showers all the time, it’s not an age thing. You don’t have to be geriatric for soap to be slippery.” 

You know, distantly, that they’re both trying to keep things light for your benefit, but their playacting isn’t helping you. You feel trapped, backed into a corner, and your lovely boyfriends who only want the best for you feel like your captors. 

Sirius clicks off the light he was shining in your eyes just as Remus comes back with your clothes. They exchange a look you don’t like. 

“Here, sweetheart, put this on.” Remus helps you get a sweatshirt over your head, extra careful to hold the collar away from the aching bump on the back of your head. 

You stand from the bed bemusedly as he starts putting your sweatpants on for you, too. You don’t love the vibe of all this coddling, either; the boys are usually only this delicate with you when they’re very concerned, very pitying, or both. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, though you already know. It’s not as if you would usually hang about in your towel all night after a shower, but they’re getting you dressed for a reason. 

James’ brows twitch together sympathetically. Sirius’ voice is gentle. “Baby, we need to go get your head looked at.” 

Your upset blooms fast and hot, tears choking you. “Why?” 

“You have a concussion, sweet girl. It seems fairly bad already, and it could get worse.” 

“But you’re…you always say hospitals can’t even do anything for those.” You know you sound childish, whiny and difficult, but you can’t help yourself. Your boyfriends don’t seem to hold it against you. James rubs your arm while Remus pulls your socks on with sweet, lingering touches. A tear squeezes out of your eye. “Why do I have to go?” 

“You’re right, there’s not much they can do,” says Remus. His voice is calm and even, a balm to your frazzled nerves. “But a concussion can be dangerous, and without tests we won’t know how dangerous it is or if there’s anything they can help with.” 

“That’s all we’re going for, angel,” James says lightly. “Just some tests. It won’t take terribly long, and we can stay with you most of the time.” 

You’re hardly hearing him, shaking your head despite the way it aches. More tears crest your cheeks, your breaths wet and quick. “Can’t we wait and go tomorrow?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” James takes your hand, squeezing your fingers. “We can’t, my love, but it’s going to be okay.” 

“I really can’t.” You pull your hand from his, wiping underneath your eyes. Your hair is still wet from the shower, cold seeping into your fresh sweatshirt. “I can’t do it. Please don’t make me.” Your voice chokes into a quiet squeak on the last few words. 

Remus coos and sits beside you on the bed, wrapping you up in a hug. You cry into his shoulder as he rocks you gently, murmuring against the side of your head. “Please,” you try again. 

He holds you closer. “I know, darling.” His voice is a low whisper. “I know it’s hard for you, and I know it’s scary, but we’ll be there with you. It’s not going to be as bad as you’re thinking. What we’re going for is really very simple, and Sirius can explain it to you on the way, hm? You’ll be alright.” 

When you calm some, he goes to warm the car, passing you off to Sirius and James to get your shoes on. 

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, baby,” Sirius promises, kissing the shell of your ear as he walks you outside. His arm is heavy around your shoulders and James is quick to take your hand after locking the door behind you, bolstering you for what’s ahead. “You think we’re gonna let you get hurt? This is going to be the easiest hospital visit you ever had. We run this place, they’ll have us in and out.” 

“I wouldn’t say we run it,” Remus says drily as you three pile into the backseat. “More like we engage with it, in twelve hour shifts, four to five times a week.” 

“But we do have lots of friends,” James chips in. 

“Exactly.” Sirius busies himself with wiping the last of your tears while James gets your seatbelt on. “Like the radiographer at Bellevue. You’ll see, baby. We’ve got you covered.”

[deerspherestudios]

Short Break and To Dos!

Hello all! 🍄🍄👻 I'm glad to see people enjoying Day 3 so far! I was so nervous about showing another side to Mychael in the update I thought people wouldn't like him as much but plenty have reacted positively! ❤️

I'll add a TLDR; above the read more, but if you don't mind my ramblings and want more details about everything, I'll write everything below! Light spoilers ahead!

I'll be taking a short break from MO development until 28th October to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Regarding the feedback on Day 3, I'm glad people aren't as averse to the new side of Mychael, in that he isn't always soft and sweet. I want people to fall in love with a person after all, not a yandere caricature, and that means that person can get upset, angry and sometimes irrational when we don't know what's going on in their head even towards the subject of their affections. While some (understandably!) were shocked about his reaction to the mushrooms, it'll be clear as to why (hopefully!)

Some of you have given incredibly accurate theories, and I'll take that as something I've done well in building up the mystery!!! I'm excited to share more in the next update, but for now!

1. I'll be taking a short break from MO development to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

What I have planned for Day 4 of MO might be the biggest update so far, since one route will lead to a few official BAD ENDINGS as opposed to 'dead ends' like the current demo has. To those who really want to, you finally get to see Mychael at his worst. As usual, writing the script takes a few months with plenty of changes in between, and I don't wanna bulldoze ahead and rush the story when it's getting to the climax!

But before I jump into all of that I just wanna give myself a creative exercise and try exploring a different theme, style and setting with a fresh new character for the jam! Since I'm a sucker for the trope... yes, the new blorbo will also be a yandere, sorry, I'm predictable.💔 The jam ends on October 28th so development on MO will continue then!

The last time I wrote something remotely sci-fi was in high school, so this will be fun to try!

2. Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

What it says on the tin! If you've already played Day 3, rest assured there's no significant story changes. Just an updated credits list, three extra sprites for one route and a small fix in the code.

3. Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Plenty of people have sent such sweet and encouraging messages to my inbox on what they thought of the update and I cannot thank all of you enough for the support!! I can't wait to post them out to archive them on the blog and answer all your interesting theories and queries in my queue!

But for now I'm due for a short break from my socials and to catch up on my Patreon sketch requests haha. I also plan to release cut content from Day 3 for my Yearling and Deer patrons. Plus, I'll be working on some written prompts for extra lore so that's something to look forward to!

I'll be back soon! Take care, fireflies!! ❤️

[sungbeam]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

dragon shifter!park seonghwa x f!reader

just because you're both dragon shifters doesn't mean this courtship thing is easy.

▷ 6.1k words, pg-13, f2l, dragon shifters au, urban fantasy, swearing, mentions of a big roach/insect, shoulder kiss, seonghwa goes shirtless once (1), mentions of courtship/mating traditions, the boys are implicit in shenanigans ofc, love in the form of jewelry, very mild jealousy, pining

a/n: this au idea was like ,,, 3 months in the making but i reopened the draft yesterday cuz i was tired of rotting 😭 anyways... i think shy, romantic seonghwa is cute ! (also very much hoping this isn't too boring jsfnkdnf)

Park Seonghwa was pretty sure he fell in love with you the day you met. 

It wasn't something he openly admitted to, especially since his attraction had come first when he saw you across the dormitory common room, and was struck dumb by the curve of your smile and the way the sunlight hit your irises to make them glint like jewels. While it was stereotypical to think that dragons only cared about appearances, it didn't come from nothing. It was part of the reason why Seonghwa didn't like saying it was love at first sight; it technically wasn't, by all definitions. He just thought you were beautiful. 

It wasn't until he finally worked up the courage (thanks to his best friend Hongjoong's encouragement (shoving)) to introduce himself to you that he realized what you were—a dragon shifter, just like him. It was no wonder he felt a pull toward you; dragon shifters were a dime a dozen, especially in the city where you both attended university. He told himself his fast friendship and bonding with you came from his excitement of being the same species, as well as learning each other's cultures and traditions, as you came from different clans. 

Though, that didn't account for the amount of times he daydreamed about adorning you in his family's jewels, as it was customary in courtship traditions to wear one's mate's gems. Neither did it account for the way his heart beat faster whenever you were around, the purring from his chest after that one time you fell asleep on his shoulder… It was complicated. 

“Everyone, let's load up the cars! Quick—off your asses. Let's move, people!” Hongjoong hollered like a drill sergeant, his hands cupped around his mouth before clapping too loud for six in the morning on a Saturday. 

Who in their right mind would be crazy enough to wake up so early on the Saturday of their last spring break? Only one demon in particular, and his name was Kim Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa was still half asleep, his eyelids droopy and his limbs even droopier. He nearly flopped face-first onto the pavement outside the apartment complex. He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and slumped over to the passenger side of the SUV. It had taken all of his willpower to not trudge out in his Lego Movie pajama set.

“—and for goddess's sake, where is Yn?”

He jolted upright. “Yn?” He blubbered, head going on a swivel. 

Hongjoong peered at him weirdly with his hands on his hips, and Wooyoung snorted, then scurried past to avoid Seonghwa's scowl. “Yes, Yn,” Hongjoong said. “Are you awake, Hwa? We literally talked about Yn coming on the trip with us last night.”

Oh. Right. 

Seonghwa blinked his bleary eyes open and nodded sheepishly. Thank goodness he wasn't in his Lego Movie pajamas. “Y-yep, of course I remember!” 

He glanced away, nostrils flaring as he caught onto a familiar scent coming down the street. He could pick out the smell of apple blossoms, tangerines, and your particular musk from a mile away if he was more awake.

“Sorry, I'm late!” Then there came the voice. Your voice simultaneously jump-started his heart and made his heart swoon. If he was about to faint, it probably wasn't going to be from sleep deprivation. 

He couldn't believe he nearly forgot you were coming to the lake with them. 

Your form came into view, your hair a windswept mess and a sheepish sort of smile on your face as you wrestled with the duffle on one shoulder, your backpack on the other, and a paper grocery bag. 

Seonghwa practically fell over himself in order to drop his own bag on the sidewalk and rush over to you. “Here, I got it,” he murmured, taking the grocery bag and duffle bag away from you so he could hold them. 

Your smile widened at him, and he swore the soft morning light was purposefully making your eyes glow right now. “Thanks, Hwa. Very sweet of you.”

“Of course,” he said with a humble nod, pointedly ignoring all of the looks he was getting from his friends. 

“You're just on time,” Hongjoong greeted you with a small smile. “How were exams for you?”

You brushed a hand through your hair, a tired laugh falling from your lips. “They were… alright,” you opted to say. “Glad they're over now, and I'm so ready for this trip.” You gestured to the grocery bag Seonghwa held. “Oh! I brought snacks, by the way.”

Mingi stuck his entire upper body out of the passenger seat of Yunho's sedan. “Yn-ah! You're riding in our car, right?” 

Seonghwa's expression molded into something sour. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“Mingi, you should just give up now,” San chuckled. He sent a wink over to Seonghwa, then glanced back at the naiad who's head Seonghwa was currently trying to glare a hole through. “We’ve already claimed Yn for our car.”

You looked on in confused amusement. “I'll split the snacks between the cars, guys. And plus, the SUV will have more room than the sedan.”

“Exactly,” Seonghwa piped up. He marched over to the back doors of the SUV to safely deposit your things within. There was no need for you to be squished between Yeosang and Jongho in Yunho's comically tiny car, when you could be in the same car as him—no, wait. That wasn't what he meant—

“Well, this is just favoritism,” Yunho jested as he slammed his trunk shut. He shot you a sunny grin that made Seonghwa glance over at you for your reaction. Yunho's being half-siren always made his voice and gestures a little more silken and sweet than the rest of them. “Are you sure it's 'cause of the extra room and not because Wooyoung's cat is gonna be in that car?”

You chuckled, shrugging. As if on cue, a lithe feline in silky black fur trotted out from the bushes. She strutted over to you, purring as she wrapped her tail around your calf. “Okay, maybe you caught me,” you said, crouching down to pet Wooyoung's cat familiar. 

Seonghwa was not going to be jealous over a cat. He was absolutely not. Some sleep would screw his head on straight—yes, sleep did sound nice. He didn't know what was up with himself this morning. 

“Pretty sure she loves you more than she loves me,” Wooyoung pouted as he stuck his head out of the SUV's back window. 

You picked the feline up with your hands, and she gave a crooning meow as you held her up to her witch through the window. “I wouldn't mind adopting her if she wasn't permanently bound to you.”

Seonghwa's eye twitched at the same time he and Hongjoong made eye contact. 

The demon's mouth curled into a knowing, teasing smile—I see you. Seonghwa could feel the heat lift to the surface of his skin as he ducked into the car. He really needed a nap.  

The remainder of the time was used swiftly as everyone finished packing things into your respective cars, including your bodies. About an hour later, you were well on your way out of the city. 

As this was all nine of yours last year of university, this spring break needed to be a memorable one. Yeosang had heard talk through the grapevine of a collection of interlinking caves overlooking a small lake. It was located a few hours out of the city proper, but it would pose as a peaceful getaway for the week. Each of the small caverns were open facing, peering over the water's surface, and each was designed to be like rooms in a house. There would be enough for the boys to sleep two to a bed, with you getting your own. 

The drive out of the city was an easy one. Seonghwa slept nearly the entire time, only waking up to a near-quiet car, save for Hongjoong's choice of music playing softly from the radio. 

“'Morning,” Hongjoong murmured, taking his eyes off the road for a brief moment. 

Seonghwa yawned and turned his eyes up and outward at the world around him. Concrete jungle had become emerald green trees speared with beams of buttery sunshine. He bet it smelled glorious. “Morning,” he said back quietly. “Are they still…” 

His voice trailed off as he twisted around in his seat and took in the middle row behind him. You, San, and Wooyoung were squished arm to arm, thigh to thigh; Wooyoung's black cat familiar laid fast asleep in Wooyoung's lap, with Wooyoung's head against San, San's head against you, and your head against the car window. Seonghwa cooed to himself at the sight, carefully snapping a picture with his phone, before returning to face the front. 

The remainder of the drive was swift, and as you approached the site of your home for the next several days, you all slowly began to wake up. Seonghwa rolled his window down and braced his arm over the open sill, a smile breaking onto his lips as he greedily inhaled the clean, crisp air. 

His eyes flickered to the side mirror, locking gazes with you. For a moment, he held your eye contact. He watched your mouth curve into that pretty smile of yours that made his insides flutter, before you looked out at the forest again. 

When Hongjoong's and Yunho's cars broke out of the trees and into the next clearing, everyone's breaths stole away. 

“No way we scored this good,” San whispered in giddy excitement as he shoved his body between Hongjoong and Seonghwa to peer out the front windshield. 

Before you stood a wide lake, its waters so clear that one could see straight to the bottom. The caverns that you would all bunker up in were on the far shore, stacked atop one another in two layers with four openings on the bottom and three on the top. A waterfall curtained off two of the cavern rooms as it flowed from the rocky outcropping that loomed over the lake, and into the lake itself; the sound was not thunderous, but a dull sort of roar that was almost muffled. 

With the sun rising higher into the sky, its beams reflected off the cascading spray of water to create a small rainbow in the mist. Suffice to say, the view in front of you deserved its own magazine. 

“Let's get our spring break on!” Wooyoung hooted as Hongjoong pulled the car around the shore of the lake to reach the base of the caverns. 

As the day sank from late morning to early afternoon, you and your friends transferred all of your belongings from the cars and into the caverns. Rooms were decided by an efficient round of Rock Paper Scissors—you luckily scored first, and chose the most private room behind the waterfall for yourself. 

Once everyone was settled, it became a race of who could get into the water—

“WAAAAHOOOO!” SPLASH!

—first. 

Seonghwa peered out from the living room cavern on the second floor to see the bodies below take a running start into the lake. He chuckled to himself, leaning his hip against the wall with a can of soda in his hand as he watched his friends break the surface of the lake, one by one. 

“You're not swimming?”

Seonghwa nearly fell forward and out of the open cave, down into the water. His hand slapped against the wall to catch himself, his heart practically tumbling out of his chest anyway. 

To your credit, you looked apologetic, grimacing through a smile as you came to stand next to him. “Sorry. You didn't hear me come in?” 

You had changed out of your T-shirt and shorts from earlier into a cropped tank top and loose skirt, a silver waist chain winking up at him from where it linked around your belly. 

The thought shoved itself into his brain—that you would look terribly divine in his jewelry.

He swallowed, dragging his eyes up back to yours. “I didn't,” he admitted sheepishly. “Guess I was too focused on watching everyone else. Have you settled in alright?”

You had chosen the cavern bedroom right next to the living room, but it was the only bedroom on this level. 

With a nod, you turned your gaze outward at the ocean of emerald green trees surrounding this little oasis. “I have,” you said pleasantly. “You?”

“Same here.” He carded a hand through his hair. “It's really quite beautiful here.” But not as beautiful as you. 

You glanced over at him again, and he wondered if he could concoct enough things to say to keep your attention on him. “Oh, I definitely agree; it's a perfect paradise, really. The waterfall” — you inclined your chin to your left — “I think it'll be most beautiful at sunset.”

He lifted one of his brows and pushed off the cavern wall. “Oh? Why do you think so?”

“If the sunset faces us,” you explained, gesturing your hand out to the eastern horizon in the distance, “then it'll reflect its light against the waterfall. As the sun sinks down and lights the sky on fire, so too will it set the water aflame.”

Seonghwa could envision your words in his mind's eye as he took in the waterfall careening into the lake below. Its crystal blue waters were so clear that it undoubtedly would reflect the shades of the sunset, and become illuminated as you said—where water turned to flame. 

A soft smile came to his face. What a gorgeous image. 

“I bet it'd look incredible from the skies.” Your words drew him back to your face. You were already looking over at him, and his heart gave a loving lurch. 

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “I agree. Have you been able to stretch your wings recently?”

You hummed, tilting your head from side to side. “Not super recently because I was locked inside to study for the last week or two. You?”

“Same,” he chuckled and reached behind his back to scratch at the nape of his neck. Usually, he tried to shift into dragon form at least twice a week to keep his wings strong, but when life got busy, it was difficult to find enough time to take to the skies. “Would—would you like to take a flight with me sometime?” He stammered, fumbling over his words. “Just, y'know, like a casual thing.”

Excellent, Hwa. The spitting image of confidence. 

He sipped on his soda, already hearing Hongjoong's exasperated sigh in his ear. 

Your smile softened at the corners. “I'd love to. After dinner, maybe?”

His shoulders loosened in relief. “Sounds like a plan.”

“This is your chance! It's a sign!” 

Seonghwa frowned at his reflection in the vanity mirror as he played around with his dark curls. Tied up? Kept down? It really didn't matter; he was literally going to be a dragon for the majority of the time, but it never hurt to appear well-groomed before a potential… ahem, friend. A friend. 

Hongjoong slumped down on the foot of their shared bed, a deadpan on his face when Seonghwa continued to ignore him. “Park Seonghwa, so help me, I will plant one of your anklets in her jewelry box—”

“And if you do that,” Seonghwa drawled as he gave up on his hair and reached for the tube of lip gloss on the vanity top, “I will tell that elven girl you've become so fond of about how you—”

“Okay, I got it,” Hongjoong cut in with a scowl. “Aish, so touchy. I'm just saying that this trip is the perfect opportunity to let her know how you feel, and to court her.”

Seonghwa knew that; of course, he fucking knew that. The thing was that if anything went poorly, you would practically be stuck here with him until the end of the trip. He cringed to himself at the mere awkwardness of that potential outcome. “It's just a wing stretch,” he reasoned aloud to himself. He grabbed one of the bottles of cologne on the table to spritz around his scent glands. “It's not like I'm going to offer her a necklace.”

“Yes, because you need to smell nice for a wing stretch.” Hongjoong fell back onto the bed with a grumble under his breath at Seonghwa's stubbornness. 

Dinner had finished up about fifteen minutes ago, and while everyone departed to do their own activities, you and Seonghwa agreed to reconvene at the tops of the caves in five minutes for your planned flight together. The days were growing longer as spring waltzed toward summer, and thus, the sun reigned the skies for a lengthier period of time. The two of you would ideally circle back in time to watch the sunset hit the waterfall.

Seonghwa left Hongjoong to their quarters as he made his way up to the rocky outcropping at the top of the waterfall. 

You were already waiting for him, your bare feet standing in the shallow end of the river leading down to the waterfall. You still had on the top and skirt from earlier, and as a light breeze wafted past, it blew through your hair and your clothes like a dream. 

You glanced up at him. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” He grinned as the anticipation and excitement of breaking his wings free slowly bubbled up into his chest. It wasn't only being able to spend time with you, but simply the thoughts of being his dragon self that made him so giddy. 

You hopped out of the river and padded across the soil toward him. 

Once you were in line with him, Seonghwa flashed you a wide smile and sprinted toward the cliff edge. Your laughter followed him as he dove off toward the water below, eyes falling closed as he relished in the wind whipping past his skin. 

When he opened his eyes, he skimmed the water's surface with the edge of a veiny, membranous wing, before swooping back up toward the ripening sky above. His humanoid features had fully transformed into that of a creature nearly five times his human height. Scales of obsidian, gleaming a dark blue in the light, rippled across his back, his skin. He huffed steam from his nostrils and searched for you. 

A body of iridescent white, so pearly that you appeared a shade of light purple in the burning gold light, blurred in his periphery. 

He whipped his head in your direction, watching you soar around him in a loose circle. You wrapped around him and grazed the end of your tail against his, a caress. 

He didn't want to think too much about that. 

And then your irises, blue-purple in this form, were blinking at him. Northward? Your snout gestured in that vague direction. 

Seonghwa huffed his agreement, and the pair of you took off into the skies. 

A dragon shifter's courtship traditions were different from other shifters’ cultures. For one, the value of wearing a potential mate's jewelry was equivalent to acceptance of courtship; additionally, wearing one another's jewels essentially spelled out a long-term partnership. It was similar to humans’ exchanging of rings. 

Dragons dressed their mates in their own jewels as dragons were ruthlessly protective of their hoards of treasures, and a mate was even more precious than any jewel one could acquire. There were other rituals, too—such as dousing one another in dragonfire, performing a certain mating dance, consuming meals made by their mate—but the jewels had always been emphasized in Seonghwa's clan. 

It was why he stiffened when he saw a slim, silver chain wrapped around your ankle this morning. 

The piece of jewelry looked awfully similar to something he owned, except the one you wore was studded with an amethyst on the tail, whereas the one he owned was studded with sapphire. He struggled to swallow as he stepped into the kitchen, eyes pinned to your ankle. 

The way the light refracted off the gem made the article appear so much like his own jewelry; his heart could not take a scare like that so early. Perhaps scare wasn't such an accurate word—he simply hadn't had the time to mentally prepare. 

It didn't matter how long he'd fantasized about it. Seeing the real thing would likely bring him to his knees regardless. 

“Hwa,” your amused chuckle greeted his ears as you peered at him from over the rim of your coffee cup. “Good morning.”

He tried for a smile and forced himself to look at something, anything, other than your ankle. “Hi. Good morning.” Seonghwa grabbed a cup of his own to pour a helping of the brew into. “Sleep well?”

You rolled your shoulders back, followed by your neck. But as he blew on the hot coffee, he failed to notice the way your eyes watched his movements regarding the coffee. “Mhm, way better after we flew last night.”

Seonghwa hummed warmly. “Yes, same here.” Last night was a blissful night of deep sleep. The tension between his shoulder blades had lessened considerably. 

He took a gentle sip of his beverage, and the rich bittersweetness hit him as an alluring wakeup call. You were still watching as he took a larger gulp. 

His eyes met yours. “Something wrong?” He asked, licking his lips. 

Your eyes widened. “Nope,” you squeaked out. You coughed, setting your mug on the table to lace your fingers together. “Uhm so… thoughts on kebabs for lunch? I was gonna go hunting later.”

“Mmh.” Seonghwa drained his cup of coffee. “That sounds good. I can go with you—if you'd like,” he added swiftly. Sometimes hunting could be a therapeutic solo trip and he hoped he wasn't encroaching. Though, going hunting just the two of you sounded nice, too. 

“I'd love the company,” you said. When you smiled, his own widened. 

The brief moment of peace the two of you shared shattered as two bodies barrelled into the room, followed by another set of thundering footsteps behind them. 

“YAH! Choi Jongho, I know this was all your idea!” Wooyoung appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, drenched from head to toe with dark and damp bangs hanging in his seething eyes. A puddle was beginning to form beneath him as he glared at the two giggling imps cowering behind the opposite end of the counter. 

You and Seonghwa connected gazes across the chaos. Good grief. 

From behind Wooyoung's calf, another creature poked her head out to hiss at the perpetrators. Wooyoung's cat familiar looked akin to a wet rat, the poor thing. 

“Seonghwa hyung, do something!”

Seonghwa's eyes drifted over to Jongho and Yeosang, who flashed him a pair of sheepish smiles. “Aye… both of you. Now.”

“We didn't get water on San,” was what Yeosang offered with a shrug. 

That seemed to not be the answer Wooyoung was looking for. If the witch was a dragon instead, Seonghwa was sure he would be blowing steam out of his ears. “Are you kidding me? I am going to hex you so badly, you will never know a day of peac—”

Jongho suddenly yelped, startling everyone as he leaped a couple feet in the air and ran to crouch beside you at the breakfast table. 

“What, what? What is it?” 

Yeosang's eyes had widened to the size of globes, too, as he scurried backward to the edge of the cavern. His stare was still pinned to something on the other side of the counter. 

Seonghwa peered over the ledge and swore sharply. “That is the biggest fucking bug I have ever seen in my life,” he said with his hand pressed to his face, stressed. 

Wooyoung had magically disappeared, and his cat had retreated alongside him. If even the cat didn't want anything to do with the big hunk of insect—

“AH-AH! HYUNG, IT'S MOVING!” Jongho screeched and grabbed the back of your chair to hide behind you. 

Seonghwa paused at that action, but snapped out of it when he saw the legs peek out from around the corner. “Can someone get Yunho?”

“Ohhhhh, I'm too young to die,” the youngest whispered toward the ceiling, his face contorted in fear and anguish; it was a rare thing to see from Jongho. “Yn, please, flame its ass or something!”

You sputtered, curling your feet up onto your chair with you in case the bug came scuttling toward the table. “Uh no. Yunho would literally flame me if I did!”

“Screw what he thinks. He's not here right now.”

Seonghwa clambered up onto the counter and peered over the edge again. He slapped a hand over his mouth after seeing the bug for another time. “Okay,” he said carefully, “on the count of three, we're all going to run for the edge and jump into the lake.”

Three nods from around the room. 

“One…” Everyone shifted an inch toward the cave opening. “Two…”

The fuckass bug moved. 

The countdown was abandoned—Jongho ran for the opening and tackled Yeosang into the water. Seonghwa leaped over the remainder of the countertop in time to swan dive into the lake beside you. His body sliced into the water like a hot knife through butter, and the lake's cool temperatures engulfed him in a refreshing embrace. 

Your head popped up right beside him and you shot him a laughing grin. “Well, that's definitely one way to start off the day.”

He laughed alongside you, slicking his wet hair back and out of his face. “I mean, we were gonna end up in the water at some point,” he mused. 

“True.” Your eyes zeroed in on something just below his jawline. You swam a little closer, and Seonghwa's heart catapulted into his throat. “You have a little, uhm, watercress…”

Your fingers brushed over his collarbone as you gently plucked the strand of watercress out from the links of the necklace sitting on his sternum. You lifted the plant up as if to say, 'Ta da,’ before pausing at your physical proximity. 

Seonghwa watched as a drop of water dripped down the middle of your face, down the slope of your nose, and slipped over your plush lips. Woah…

He had half the mind to reach out and thumb it away. 

“Two dragons, a fae prince, and a water mage couldn't handle a fucking roach?” 

You and Seonghwa jolted away from each other like similar poles of a magnet, heat rushing up to the surface of your skin. You both tilted your gazes up to the caves and saw Yunho appear at the mouth of the kitchen, a wide grin on his face as he held the bug up between his two fingers. 

“That sounds like a joke I've heard before,” San laughed as he walked up next to Yunho. He waved down at the lot of you in the water, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

Wooyoung peered out from behind San. “Instant karma!” He hollered. 

“Come down here, and we can talk about instant karma,” Jongho threw right back up at him. He flicked his wrist and sent a jet of lake water up to the cave mouth, hitting Wooyoung square between the eyes with scary accuracy. 

San howled in laughter as his friend hissed from the friendly fire. 

Seonghwa loosened a warm chuckle before turning toward you—wait. Where did you go? He twirled around in the water, eyes scanning the lake for where you'd gone. 

“Hwa!” You were by the far shore, raising your hand up to wave him over. 

He didn't hesitate to swim over toward you. The two of you swam over to the furthest edge of the lake, far from the others. The morning sun had not yet crested high enough to penetrate through the trees here, and that left you both in a patch of dreamy shade where long leaves dripped into the water like Mother Nature's curtains. 

Seonghwa clambered out onto the bank and yanked the hem of his shirt up and over his head. The material had stuck to his skin like glue, and he was a lot more comfortable without it on. 

Behind him though, he swore he heard your breath hitch. 

The corner of his lips curled upward in satisfaction. He continued to feign ignorance as he wrung his wet shirt out, arm muscles flexing as the water trickled out of the fabric. “You coming up, love?” He asked casually, peering over his shoulder at you lingering in the water. 

You cleared your throat as you pulled yourself onto land. “Y-yeah,” you said, covering your stammer with a breathy laugh. 

“Cold?” He teased, finally turning his body to face you in full. 

You passed him an expression of playful exasperation. “Freezing,” you jested back. It was difficult for dragon shifters to be cold; the amount of heat either of you generated on your own was enough to keep you warm all the time. After all, you did spew fire from your mouth on occasion. 

Seonghwa whipped his shirt out in front of him and blew a breath of steam through it. The fabric dried up fast, but instead of putting it back on, he slung it over his shoulder. 

An idea plunked itself into the forefront of his mind. “Shall we hunt?” He asked and extended a hand out to you. 

He saw the flicker of blue-purple in your irises—like lightning—as you brushed a lock of hair from your eyes. You took his hand, your fingers and palms slotting together like matching clasps of a chain. “We shall.”

Seonghwa sat at the vanity table in his and Hongjoong's room. The world beyond the mouth of this cavern was a dark sapphire, embroidered with small diamonds in its fabric—the night sky and its stars. The muffled rush of the waterfall nearby played in the background as he sifted through his traveler's chest of jewelry and gemstones. Hongjoong had half fallen asleep in the hot spring somewhere behind him, so Seonghwa was taking this time to pick out what he wanted to wear to… tomorrow…

His hand movements stilled as something caught his eyes in the chest of shiny stones. He held his breath, carefully withdrawing a silver chain out by its amethyst stone. There was no question about what it was and that it didn't belong to him. 

Your fragrance still lingered on the metal, though cool from being away from your body heat for a while. 

Seonghwa breathed out loudly through his nose as he stared at the article in his palm. 

He could hear Hongjoong emerging from the hot spring pool. “Something wrong, Hwa?”

“Did you” — Seonghwa's brows furrowed and he twisted around on the vanity stool — “steal her anklet?”

Hongjoong frowned, wrapping a towel around his waist before coming to stand beside his friend. He peered down at the article, reaching out to touch the anklet. 

Seonghwa moved his hand away and his chest rumbled with a low growl. 

A soft huff of amusement fell from Hongjoong's lips, and he settled his hand on Seonghwa's shoulder instead. “No, I wouldn't dare. I don't want to face a dragon's wrath for stealing from their hoard, thank you very much.”

“Hmph.” Seonghwa considered the article in his palm once more. If Hongjoong wasn't pulling his leg, then the logical answer was that you put your anklet in his jewelry chest. But why would you do that, and when did you? He would have smelled your scent lingering in this room if you had, and he couldn't pick up on any of his friends’ scents either. 

A flower of hope blossomed in his chest as he thought about the implications of this gesture further. Maybe it didn't matter how it got here, only what you thought about it being here in his possession.

“It's a sign,” Hongjoong giggled, squeezing his shoulder. He trudged away to go find his sweatpants to sleep in. “Your move, Park!”

Seonghwa slowly wrapped his fingers around the chain, a small smile flitting onto his face. In the mirror, his cheekbones burned the color of the rubies in his jewelry case. 

His move, indeed. 

In the morning, Seonghwa rose before day broke the dawn. 

It had come to him like a strike of lightning last night as he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, weighing the option of wearing your anklet like a lovesick fool or returning it to you in the morning. What he'd remembered, instead, was something you told him about your clan's traditions. 

While his family held a lot more emphasis on adornment for mating traditions, your family clan put more importance on the act of making a meal for a potential partner. Consuming said meal was an acceptance of courtship and love. 

As he hunched over the kitchen countertop pouring over a recipe on his phone, he marinated on how to go about this. Presenting you with breakfast—that he only made for you, might he add—was not a subtle move in the slightest. Perhaps slipping your anklet into his things could be interpreted a couple ways, but it wasn't a glaring neon sign like this gesture was going to be. 

Nonetheless, Seonghwa got to work. He was counting on his friends to stay the fuck asleep. 

About an hour later, he was just finishing up when he picked up on the sound of your bare feet padding across the hallway toward the kitchen. Your perfume followed next, carrying into the room on an invisible breeze. Seonghwa drummed his fingers against the countertop as you strolled into the room, eyes wide and bright when you saw him there with food made. 

“Well, something smells yummy,” you said warmly. “Should I go wake the others?”

“No!” He laughed nervously, breaking into a bashful smile. “No need. This—this is just for you. I mean, I made breakfast for you.”

Your eyes seemed to grow even wider. “Break—breakfast for me? Just me?”

He nodded and wrung his hands in front of his body. “Just you… if that's okay.”

“Of course, that's okay. More than okay, really,” you murmured, eyes turning shy. The implications were too blatant not to miss or deny. 

Seonghwa gestured for you to take a seat at the breakfast table and presented you with the hot and fresh plate of breakfast he'd just made. He claimed the seat across from you with his own plate, but didn't touch it yet. His nerves made his hands shake beneath the table as he watched you take your utensil and fork a bite into your mouth. 

Something warm burst in his chest as you swallowed, then took another bite. 

“It's really good,” you said to him between bites. Your mouth was pursed into a wide smile, a tenderness swimming in your gemstone irises. “I think though,” you murmured after swallowing, “that we need to talk.”

Seonghwa's stomach tightened, but he nodded. “Agreed. I, uhm, I found this in my jewelry case last night.” He pulled out the strand of silver and amethyst from his pocket. The metal and jewel glistened in the soft morning sunlight pouring into the open cavern. 

“Oh, you didn't wear it?”

He went doe-eyed. “I wanted to—I just wanted to be clear about intentions first, just because if I wore this…” He stammered, “Then you'd be mine and I'd be yours.” 

The wording of it made your pulse skip, but it was exactly what you wanted. All of this stumbling around each other, falling over yourselves, was for this purpose. 

“Is that right, love?”

You nodded, as the two of you shared a smile in the glow of early morning. “That's right.”

He would be yours, and you would be his. 

Breakfast was dined upon in peace with quiet murmurings exchanged between the two of you, accompanied by light laughter and loving gazes. It was a marvel none of it was interrupted by the other occupants of the lakeside getaway. 

There was another thing that had to be done in order to seal the deal, however. 

When breakfast was finished and cleaned up after, Seonghwa barged back into his and Hongjoong's shared bedroom. His demon best friend was nowhere to be found, but it was no matter. Seonghwa went over to the vanity table and carefully picked up the necklace he had laid out last night. It was white gold studded in fat, glistening rubies—his prized possession, and one of the few pieces he had saved for only his future partner to wear.

That giddy excitement curled in his stomach again as he took the necklace with him up to your bedroom on the second floor. You were there waiting for him, your foot braced on the vanity stool to fix his sapphire chain onto your ankle, as your amethyst one laid around his. 

“This,” he murmured as he came up behind you in the mirror, “I've been saving for someone special.” He locked eyes with you in the looking glass, a sweet smile playing on his lips as he draped the heavy gems over your sternum. 

Blood rubies were precious and harder to come by these days, which was why Seonghwa coveted them. It only made sense that they should rest now on a person he would also come to value even more. They sat perfectly upon your collarbones, like a tiara upon your head… like it was made for you. You were yourself a treasure. 

Seonghwa could hardly contain his contentment at the sight. He wrapped his arms around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, smiling against your skin. “Perfect.”

a/n: don't forget to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

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[shurisneakers]

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air. 

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you. 

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?” 

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.   

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt. 

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9. 

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock. 

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry. 

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.” 

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere. 

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out. 

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face. 

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him. 

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?” 

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.” 

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?” 

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know. 

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed. 

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts. 

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden. 

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do. 

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel. 

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.  

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.  

From: co-host 

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

From: co-host 

mr quatch himself

From: co-host  

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when 

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: co-host

How about Sunday 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius 

​​From: co-host

How about your mom

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow. 

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow. 

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington. 

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night. 

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. 

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for. 

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up. 

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago. 

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid. 

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone. 

9:05. 

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair. 

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down. 

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him. 

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off. 

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.” 

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.” 

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh. 

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride. 

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor. 

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth. 

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter. 

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.” 

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30. 

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again. 

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all. 

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one. 

“We’ve got…” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better. 

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.   

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears. 

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well. 

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place. 

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone. 

12:00. 

He exhales, looking up. 

A cold wind blows past his face. 

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more. 

“Damn it,” you curse softly. 

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up. 

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it. 

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.” 

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step. 

And that's when the fun actually starts. 

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point. 

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.” 

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn. 

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while. 

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie. 

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.” 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights. 

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging. 

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference. 

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek. 

He inhales sharply. 

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground. 

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull. 

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone. 

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly. 

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination. 

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues. 

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.” 

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath. 

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was. 

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply. 

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work. 

Reading up about the clock tower in  detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work. 

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed. 

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed. 

You go still, clock hovering mid air. 

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?” you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck. 

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room. 

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.  

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room. 

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor. 

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it. 

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once. 

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder. 

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space. 

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up. 

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.” 

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.” 

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness. 

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back. 

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress. 

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing. 

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane. 

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?” 

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes. 

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden. 

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed. 

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks. 

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable. 

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out. 

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts. 

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.” 

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed. 

“I think–” 

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.  

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail. 

He knows you don't want to say it. 

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck. 

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went. 

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers. 

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?” 

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.” 

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you. 

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it. 

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.” 

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly.  “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?” 

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth. 

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground. 

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.” 

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive. 

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information. 

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh. 

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly. 

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks. 

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind. 

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, 

“Silent blenders.” 

And then he cringes. 

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles. 

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably. 

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”   

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t. 

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later. 

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance. 

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.” 

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down. 

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there. 

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been. 

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago. 

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?  

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to. 

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir. 

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate. 

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.” 

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing. 

Only a draft blows through the window. 

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway. 

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by. 

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous. 

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room. 

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him. 

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise. 

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

“It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.” 

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.” 

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts. 

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.” 

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst. 

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin. 

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.  

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again. 

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.” 

“Touché.” 

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals. 

Something you showed literally three minutes ago. 

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.  

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet. 

“What?” 

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up. 

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone. 

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this. 

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.  

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope. 

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired. 

And then there's silence. 

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps. 

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room. 

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room. 

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual. 

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.” 

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters. 

You stare at him. 

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving. 

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding. 

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed. 

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave. 

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

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Next part

[churipu]

THE MOMENT THEY REALIZE THEY'RE IN LOVE ִ ࣪𖤐

featuring. gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, itadori yuuji, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing, college! au, toji being a single father during his second term of uni (i searched that most japanese college uses 2 terms or trimester system / 3 terms, 1 term of uni in japan is around 15 weeks apparently) -> please tell me if i get this wrong.

note. omg, for the anons who have sent in requests to me, i apologize if these came out before your requests did, i'm trying to empty out my drafts :( but pls note that i am not ignoring your requests at all, it will be written, i promise <;33

GOJO SATORU

when he finds himself checking his phone countless of times, waiting for your message

i promise you, you both started out as work partners in one of your lectures. the two of you were complete strangers to each other — he doesn't know you, and you don't know him. but, either way, the two of you had to get to know each other because this was a crucial grade to pass this lecture.

gojo never thought about having feelings towards you, his work partner. he thought to himself, he'd just get this work done, pass this lecture, and never see you again.

but fate is a funny thing.

the way you made him feel like he wasn't just special because of his face, but his heart too. whereas most people in campus would consider him the pretty boy who could go head-to-head with the hottest celebrities — they just think of him as a pretty boy. and gojo would just go along with them, he gets used to it.

but you? you didn't consider him special at all. although, you did make him feel special the way other people can't.

gojo deep down, knows he was fucked up the moment he finds himself checking his phone to see if you'd reply to his messages, and when you do, he gets so happy. gojo was never a fast responder to everyone — because he practically receives the same kind of messages, "gojo hang out with us", "gojo go out with me", "gojo i like you".

but with you? he won't waste a second at all. even if sometimes you didn't reply as fast as he does, because you are a busy person in campus. you'll work on that after you both started dating, i promise.

SUKUNA RYOMEN

when you stood up for him when nobody would.

sukuna, how do i say this? not everyone is fond of him, people are scared of him — they talk shit behind his back, and don't dare to approach him. people dreaded when they have to be in the same group with him, despite the fact that he actually works; they still think he's a bad person.

"you guys are talking shit to a person who's in our group, if you want to say something to him, have the balls to say it to his face. and while he's here, why don't you tell him about it?" you tell the two people who were sitting beside you, who had been talking in whispers about how they were unlucky to be grouped up with sukuna.

and sukuna? he could honestly care less, he'd gotten used to those kind of things anyway. but when you actually stood up for him, he could only look at you with an amused smile.

he's definitely curious about you after that day — he has pride. and he'd never admit that he's actually pretty thankful that you, the first person to stand up for him, actually did what you did. because now people are a little terrified of being told off by you.

sukuna finally sucks it up at the end of the semester and tries to talk to you. yes, it took him the whole semester to talk to you, asking you for your number, and then thanking you for what you did because nobody has ever done that before to him.

ITADORI YUUJI

when you went all out to tutor him so he'd pass his lectures, teaching him patiently when he doesn't understand something.

yuuji hates studying. and when his lecturer asked you to tutor him, he feels extremely bad for you — he feels that he'd just going to waste your time tutoring him, when he knows that he's going to fail this one subject.

but when you reassured him, and encouraged him. saying that you will do anything to teach him so that he could pass, he gets a little emotional at the thought. you both were just mere classmates, and he barely knows you, vice versa.

when he doesn't understand a topic, he gets so frustrated at himself for not being able to understand it. but you, you were very patient with the male, reassuring him that you had the time to teach him over so that he will be able to understand the said topic.

and when he does finally understand, he gets so happy. he started looking forwards to your tutoring sessions, and like everyone said: if you enjoy something, it passes by quickly. and it's true, yuuji feels like time went by in a flash, and the exams soon started.

he passed with flying colors, he makes sure that you know about his grades — and points out that without you, he wouldn't be able to pass. yuuji, gets a little upset when he realizes that if the exams are over, you had no more tutoring sessions with him; which meant no more conversations.

so he has to ask you out right then, he didn't want to just return as mere classmates. he wanted to be more than that.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

when you didn't care about his shitty reputation of being a single father while still being on the second term of uni.

being a single parent is hard enough. not to mention, in university. not married, with a baby itself gets a lot of unwanted (negative) attention — toji, who once failed to get a babysitter on a weekday, and so he had to bring his eight month old son to class.

his son—megumi— was a calm baby, thankfully. the young one didn't cry or babble during lectures, and he just slept through it. toji was a little relieved to say the least, but ever since people find out about him being a single father to an eight month old baby, a lot of assumptions and words have gone around.

toji hated group works, especially when he has to pick the group himself. people didn't want a single father to be in their group, they assumed that the male would focus on his baby and ends up deserting the group work.

so when that particular day where he has to bring megumi to campus, strapped on a baby carrier on his chest. his lecturer just had to give out a partner work, and to add the cherry on top; the lecturer left the class to choose their own partner. so the male sat on his place, a pencil in between his nose and upper lip as he puckered them lightly — hearing his classmates choosing each other.

he figured that he could just do this and get the grade himself, solo. but when you came up and slipped into the seat next to him, he was of course surprised.

you asked him if he would like to partner up with you for this work, and after a few seconds, he accepted your offer.

toji knew it was getting bad when you didn't care about what people say about you getting close to him. just by choosing him for this work made your reputation falter a bit, and he was honestly ready for you to back out of the partner work.

but you didn't, and he knew it's bad for him, his feelings, and his heart.

the way you treated him and megumi like they're both normal (which they are normal humans), and the way you always make him feel included makes his heart race. sometimes, when he fails to look for a babysitter when you both are working for this project, you tell him he didn't have to since megumi is a calm baby.

he finds himself in awe when baby megumi plays with you during both of your little meet ups outside of class to do the project. he's in love.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[diddybok]

asking best friend!stray kids what you are pt.2

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: ot8 x gn!reader

➩genre(s): angst, some fluff

➩warnings: strong language, mentions of sex, some of the boys are still mean, some unhappy endings

➩wc: 9.4k (9433)

➩author’s note: i am so serious if anybody talks to you in a way to undermine, condescend or just simply belittle you and make you feel stupid, pls pls pls cut that person out of your life. even if they’re doing it as a ‘joke’. it never ends well. ily all and you deserve the best of the best, always <3

➩parts: part one

chris | 1.2k (1201) words

After the fourth ring, you swipe the little phone symbol across your screen and the time starts. You watch it go from one second, to the next, and the next, before a deep elongated sigh pulls you out of your trance. 

You put him on speaker, afraid of the way you’d react if you were to hear him so close to you in your ear. You can’t handle that right now. 

“Y/n?” His slightly distorted voice says. You don’t reply, placing the phone down in front of you as you sit and fiddle with the rings on your fingers. 

“Come on sweetheart, say something please. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Chris asks softly. Akin to a parent who would try and get their child to confess to stealing cookies out of the cookie jar. 

You run your hands down your face. You’re annoyed with him, most definitely. But you can’t deny the butterflies that start to flutter in your stomach when he addresses you like that. 

It’s not fair. 

The line is painfully silent for another two minutes. Chris patiently, or rather stubbornly, waiting for you to speak. 

“This…this is harder than I thought it’d be.” You say, your voice croaking slightly as this is the first time you have spoken in a while. 

“Okay. Try not to think too much about it. Just speak your truth, unload it all.” Chris encourages. 

You take a deep breath and run your hands up and down your thighs to stop them from clamming up. 

“You hurt my feelings. You are continuing to hurt my feelings. I feel as if I’m the only one who is missing out on an inside joke that everybody seems to know but me.” You halt, waiting to see if he would have a rebuttal. Except he doesn’t and his silence spurs you on to continue. 

“I thought we were practically dating. I thought that night would be the night that you would ask to be together as a couple. You know, exclusive?” You chuckle bitterly. “So imagine my surprise when you decide to ignore me for a week. Do you know how shitty that felt?” You ask him. 

You can just about hear his breaths. They’re soft and collected. Yet the more you wait for his response that he doesn’t seem to be giving, you are becoming the opposite of that. 

“I asked you a question.” You say curtly. 

“I can see how that would make you feel shitty, yes. For that I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I felt like I fucked everything up for us.” You think he sounded genuine enough when he said that, so you elect yourself to be quiet so he can continue. 

“I should’ve stopped it. Doing it knowing I wasn’t ready for it to happen—like that anyway—was not fair on you. I wouldn’t say that it has complicated things per say, but it has led me to think about a few things.” Chris finishes. 

You sit there, the flaps of the butterfly wings now causing the bile to travel upwards and out. You reach over and grab your water bottle from your bedside table and chug as much as you can. 

“Think about things like what?” You will yourself to say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand at the water that managed to escape and drip down your chin. 

He doesn’t reply which does not settle your nerves. Especially not after that last sentence he said. Silence is not your friend at this moment. 

“Chris—”

“I think that we should be together.” He practically vomits out. 

Your eyes widen and your eyebrows shoot up to the top of your skull. 

“What!”

“Y/n?”

You both speak at the same time. 

“Oh sorry you go ahead.”

“Sorry, you first.”

You hear a small chuckle over the line as you speak over each other again. He stays silent this time, letting you talk. 

“Are you serious? Like you really mean that? You aren’t playing me for a fool right?” You ask quickly. 

“Yes. Yes. No,” You release a silent scream. “I really do want us. I have always wanted us, but this—you—made me realise that we should’ve made it official a while ago. There were only so many more excuses I could pull out of the bag to mask me taking you out on dates as just ‘best friends hanging out doing questionable things’.” 

Of course, you knew this as you are smart. The excuse he gave when he took you to a rooftop restaurant with candlelights everywhere was certainly not ‘for practice when I get a partner’. Him having your favourite meal prepared and the playlist the two of you made playing in the background? Dead giveaway. 

“Plus it is also totally unrealistic that you as my best friend would splash that much cash on me unless it was because you lost a bet. So I had a feeling I knew something was up. Which I guess is why I got a bit too excited and jumped to the conclusion that we were already a couple.” You say scratching the back of your neck. 

“Not true! I would always buy you things.” Chris corrects. 

“Yeah but you’d always complain whilst doing so. So when you stopped complaining, something had clearly shifted.” You clarify. 

You can envision the eye roll he does paired with the sigh he releases making you laugh. 

There’s another silence that fills the space, albeit this time it is comfortable. Until he sneezes down the line and you catch yourself smiling warmly as you bless him. 

“What happens now? Do we get a level up on our relationship or something? Or do I magically spawn in your arms and you cuddle me until I fall asleep? I’m thinking that sounds like the correct thing to happen next.” He teases. 

“Of course that’s what you think.” 

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just work here.” He says in a seductive drawl. 

“You’re still very much in the dog house. Honestly, I feel it’s only fair for me to leave you waiting a week to even see me.” You speak without a hint of sarcasm. 

It goes quiet over the phone again. You look down at your rings, twisting them around your finger gently. 

“Okay…I guess that’s fair.” He finally responds. 

You release a breath you weren't aware you were holding, nodding to yourself in agreement. 

“You’re one hundred percent certain you want this? Want to be together past just best friends?” You clarify. 

“What do you not trust me already? Y/n I want to be with you. I have wanted to be with you. Our communication just wasn’t great. But we will work on it together. Okay?” Chris speaks gently down the phone. 

“Okay.” You say softly. 

Though it will take a day or two for you to get over the fact he didn’t message you for a week, you feel as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

Whatever the next step of your relationship with Chris is, you’re just relieved that you get to do it together with no more misunderstandings. 

minho | 1.0k (1032) words

You and Minho decided that it would be best for you to discuss your relationship over lunch. He even offered to pay which you certainly were not going to turn down. 

You have been hyping yourself up in front of the mirror for about twenty minutes since Minho said he was en route. If Minho texting you earlier was any indication of how this conversation will go, then you are sure you aren’t silly for practising breathing techniques and how to not make a fool of yourself on a whole. 

You’re getting your jacket when you hear his knock at the door. You know it’s him because he only ever knocks in a pattern. 

Opening the door, you’re glad to see him greet you with a smile on your face. Though that’s how it has always been in your relationship. Even when you fight, you always know to resolve the issue with a smile and to never yell at each other. 

Even though you could tell he was anxious, he was masking it well. Throughout the drive, playing your favourite songs. Even now in the café ordering you your favourite meal when he caught you scanning the menu acting like you didn’t know what you wanted already. 

Safe to say, the both of you calm each other down, which makes this conversation much easier to have. 

“So, let's address the elephant in the room.” You start, taking a sip of your milkshake. 

“I first want to say that whatever we choose to do from this point on, you are not allowed to leave me. Well, you can’t anyways because I am always going to be in your life.” He says with an unwavering smile on his face. 

You hold back your smile and nod, letting him carry on. 

“No I do mean it. I just think that we’d be better off just being…us. You know what I mean?” He says using his hands to emphasise.  

“Mmm, let’s dig a little deeper. I just don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. Obviously what we shared was nice and I don’t think that we should regret it, right?” You say with a tilt of your head. 

“I agree. I had a think about it whilst I drove to your house to pick you up and I don’t think it was fair of me to question what we did. In terms of making you think that I felt that it wasn’t right of us to do.” Minho explains. He looks around before leaning in slightly. “Especially since that was the best sex I have had in months.” He throws a wink your way and you have to stop yourself from taking a bow. 

Him saying that feels as though numerous weights have been lifted off of your shoulders. You were most anxious about whether he either hated it or thought it was a mistake. So you’re now glad to hear that neither of it was the case. 

The waiter comes over with your food and you thank them. You’re about to pick up your fork and take a bite of food to fuel your courage but you’re abruptly tutted at. 

“Just because we are in the midst of an important conversation does not mean we skip tradition.” Minho says, raising his eyebrow at you. 

You place the fork down and put up a peace sign as you pose. He takes out his camera and snaps a photo of you with both his and your meal in the frame. He then puts his middle finger up and poses with an over exaggerated bored expression. You chuckle to yourself before taking the photo. 

“You said that we moved too fast assuming that we were moving in the first place. Do you still think that now?” You say before taking a bite of your meal. 

He finishes his mouthful as he furrows his eyebrows and thinks about your question. 

“Well I mean, I’d be an idiot to say that I didn’t think that it wouldn’t be going anywhere. But for us right now, I don’t think we should be moving at all.” He speaks. 

The food you are swallowing seems to get a little stuck as you start to quietly choke. All the while Minho grows increasingly embarrassed at your lack of ability to stay alive. 

“Okay calm, people are starting to look over.” He says to you, pouring you a glass of water from the jug on the table. 

You take a few gulps and tap your chest.

“Damn. You shouldn’t say things like that when I’m mid chew.” You scold. 

“My apologies, from now on I shall wait until the food has made its descent to the pit of acid in your stomach.” He lightly chuckles. 

“So what I’m hearing is that all things considered romantically, we should stop. So we just continue on as friends?” You clarify. 

He nods. 

“Hit the nail on the head.”

“Right…I mean I guess that works. After all, we were friends before we got curious so I’m pretty sure we can just laugh about it and carry on.” You smile albeit quite painfully. 

“Yes of course! We were just curious…” Minho adds, a painful smile also etched onto his features. 

Can you just laugh about it and carry on? Even when it felt so natural? So…right?

There’s a silence pregnant with awkwardness as you and Minho avoid each other’s gazes and continue to eat. 

Akin to a supporting artist having a cue to interact with the leads of a movie, the waiter comes over to ask if everything was alright with the food. 

You both bombard him with praise and he seems a little taken aback and hurries away to the next table. 

You don’t lie to Minho often, much like he doesn’t lie to you. However, in this café it seems the two of you are egregious liars. Which explains the way you both see right through each other. 

You know that it’s only a matter of time until something happens again because unfortunately you have crossed the line. Let’s just hope you can go at least a month before you’re entangled in each other's arms again. 

changbin | 1.1k (1120) words

One, two, three knocks on your door. You approach it slowly, looking through the peephole to see Changbin standing in his big puffer jacket and gloves. 

You consider letting him stay in the cold a little longer, but the goodness in your heart wills your hand to open the door. 

“Come in quickly, it’s cold.” You order. 

He doesn’t dally with his movements, coming inside quickly as you shut the door behind him. It’s quiet as he takes off his shoes and coat, giving you a mildly awkward smile that was still dulcet. 

“I was just making breakfast, would you like some?” You offer, walking into the kitchen. 

“Oh, yes please that’d be nice thank you.” He says, following after you. 

The atmosphere feels a little strange and you aren’t used to it. Changbin hasn’t yelled at all since stepping foot inside and usually you would’ve threatened the duct tape on his mouth by now. 

You engage in some aimless chit chat with him whilst you cook. You figured you would ease into this conversation rather than just immediately diving head first. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” Changbin admires as he looks around your kitchen. 

You turn to him, bewildered. 

“I haven’t changed my kitchen since I moved in here, bin.” You establish. 

“Really? Oh. I thought there was something different about this place in the week and a bit that I have been gone.” He says with genuinity. 

“Why would I have changed my kitchen around in the week that you’ve been gone?” You ask. 

He shrugs, stealing a blueberry from the bowl when your back is turned from him. 

“I don’t know. Some people dye or cut their hair when they’re upset. I figured since you like your hair too much, you would’ve changed the next best thing.” He solidifies, feeling much too content with the way his brain works. 

You on the other hand aren’t sure whether you’re being tested or if this is truly how he is choosing to behave.

You plate up the food and as you’re about to slide his plate over to him, you pull it back. 

“For every question answered, you get a mouthful of food.” At this, Changbin gawks. 

“This seems illegal in some form or another.” He sulks. 

You open up your phone to your conversation with him. 

“So it says here that you didn’t want to mess up our friendship, but emotions were running high and we weren’t thinking about the consequences. What consequences would that be?” You state. 

He looks at you quizzically. 

“Why do I feel like I’m in court right now? You’re reading the text messages out like evidence and I’m scared.” He says laughing awkwardly. 

“You answer the question. You get to eat.” You redirect. He clears his throat before he begins. 

“Well the consequences would be, erm, how us sleeping together will create ripples in our friendship whether we like it or not. I mean I’m not saying I regret it fully…but maybe a tiny bit?” He says fiddling with his hands. 

He opens his mouth wide as he awaits your end of the deal. You pick up the fork and scoop up some food before you feed it to him. 

For people who aren’t a couple, you sure do act like it. 

“Why is that?” You press further. 

“Because I didn’t want something like this to happen. By that I mean, if we were going to go all the way, then we should have established what we were prior. Even though our friends may think we are a couple, it wasn’t exclusively spoken about between us.” A beat. “But now I think that by letting ourselves get carried away, we missed the opportunity to settle things out with both of us clear on where we stand in our relationship.” He finishes. 

You decide to give him two mouthfuls for that answer to which he hums happily in response. 

You cannot doubt that what he said makes sense. You should have spoken about what you guys were before engaging in something as intimate as sleeping with each other. 

Yet for two people who have already gone to second base countless times before and couldn’t control the libido this time, you also understand where things got messy. 

“I think I get where you’re coming from now.” You say, eating your own mouthful. 

Changbin nods in acknowledgment before stealing a handful of blueberries. 

“But you also said that you still wanna be my best friend. Is that still true? Do you think we can get past this?” You ask apprehensively. 

Changbin’s eyebrows furrow in disbelief. 

“Of course! To both of your questions. Look at us, we’ve lasted this long. Yeah so I’ve been inside you, that’s fine! At least we had a good time, right? We can say that we’ve done it and gotten it out of our system.” He exclaims. 

You pull a face at the last sentence and he is immediately scrambling to reword what he means. 

“No, I don't see it as a throwaway act! I meant that because we had been stopping at second base because we were too scared to take it all the way, we finally reached the goal.” He stammers. 

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms. 

“No I don’t mean that sleeping with you was the goal, if anything it was off the pitch.” He tries to explain. 

A single tilt of your head was all that was needed in order for him to slam his head into his hands and mutter a ‘I give up’. 

You shake your head and slide the plate over to him as you move across the island to sit on the stall next to him. You place an arm around his shoulder as he sighs. 

“I don’t want to lose you as my best friend too, bin. Let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah? What happened, happened. Now we both know where we stand about our friendship, it’s okay.”

He lifts his head from his palms and looks over you with his big black eyes. 

“You mean that? Like actually? We’re good?” He asks. You laugh slightly. 

“Yes bin, we’re good.” You reassured him. 

“Oh thank God. Does that mean I can still call you my sweet—”

“One day at a time.” You say sternly. 

The both of you smile as you finish the rest of your breakfast. There’s a twinge of hurt that you feel for you and Changbin not going forward as a couple, but you would rather this than to lose him forever. 

So for now, you’ll cherish what an amazing friendship the two of you have and will continue to have. 

hyunjin | 1.1k (1113) words

“Y/n open the fucking door.” You mimic Hyunjin’s last text message to you aloud as you walk down the stairs. 

You were by no means rushing to get to the door, if anything, you think that standing right by it for a good two minutes or so to really irritate him would make you feel much better than you currently do. 

Hyunjin continuously banging on the door pulls you out of your stubborn demeanour. If not for your neighbours, you’d have let him continue to bang against the door until his knuckles bruised. 

Yet it seems your night couldn’t get any worse considering you’ve just taken a fist to the face. Perhaps that was your fault for catching him off guard when he was vigorously knocking as he appeared to have ‘knocked’ your face instead of the door. 

“Oh fuck! Y/n!” Hyunjin yells as he cradles your face in his hands. You appreciate the gesture, you do, he was still your best friend after all. But if this wasn’t the cherry on top of the cake then you don’t know what is. 

“Yep, good to see you too hyune.” You groan. 

You scrunch your face as your hand moves to soothe your forehead. Shrugging out of his hold, you step inside of your home, trusting that he would follow suit and shut the door behind him. 

“Y/n darling I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to knock against…your forehead.” He speaks with utmost genuinity as he shadows behind you. 

You don’t say anything as you just grab yourself some frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel before moving to your living room to make yourself comfortable on the sofa as you wait for him to explain everything. 

You’re thankful that he seems to be getting the hints tonight. He takes his place beside you, worry etched onto his beautiful face. 

Damn his prince-like features…

“Explain yourself then, since texting wasn’t working for you.” You spit. He bites his lip nervously and fidgets with his hands before his eyes look from the bag of peas until falling onto your own. 

“When…when I said I didn’t want you as my best friend, I meant because we can’t just go back to being best friends after that. It would just kill me knowing that you aren’t mine even after the night we shared.”  He starts. 

You sit still and listen, switching hands since the frozen peas were adding to the chill you already had from the conversation that loomed over your head. 

“I don’t want you as my best friend because I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want us.  Together.”

You wince. There’s a small part of you that just doesn’t believe him. You place down the now damp tea towel that holds the slowly melting peas. 

He looks at you, trying to read your reaction, but you were giving nothing away. 

“I just wanna know what was going through your head all those nights we spent together. We may not have had sex, but we did everything else. The cuddles, the kisses—when you familiarise yourself with every inch of my body—it would make sense that I thought we were something more than just best friends.”

He breaks eye contact, his interest now on the rings he adorns on his fingers. You can tell he is trying to think of something to say, so you wait patiently. 

“I understand if you feel like I may have been using you.” He acquiesces in meeting your gaze, but he persists. “It hadn’t really occurred to me that you may have thought of us as more than best friends. Granted, instead of sitting in my uncertainty I should have just asked you. Then that night happened and it hit me. Afterwards, I just knew that I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

You feel nauseous. You can’t decipher exactly what that was supposed to mean. You look over at the now wet kitchen towel. 

“So you do regret it?” You pressed, your voice soft. 

He holds his hands out and shakes his head as he quickly refutes his words. 

“No of course not! I just meant that I know I should have asked you about us before that happened. I didn’t want it to be the case that you felt that I was not serious about us. ‘Cause having sex with someone is serious and I never wanted you to think I was playing around with your feelings.” He finishes. 

You sit there thinking about what he said. Maybe he was being sincere. Maybe he really does want what you thought the two of you had for the past couple of months. 

“How can I know that you aren’t just saying this? That you feel somewhat obligated to make us a thing because of the fact we slept with each other?” You ask. 

“Because I was too much of a coward to say this earlier.” He speaks without missing a beat. 

He scoots closer to you on the sofa, his hands providing warmth in yours. You don’t mean to dither, but you can’t help but weigh all the options. Hyunjin tilts his head to try and meet your eyes.

“I know you’re thinking about all of the things that could go wrong. About all of the things that could go right. What I could be for you in a day, a week, a month or even a year.” He cups your cheek, his thumb gently stroking beneath your eye. “But just be with me in this present moment. Think about what I could be for you now.” He says quietly. 

After some time, you lift your head to meet his gaze, the faintest smile on your lips. 

“Okay.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock and by the look on his face, you were certain that he thought you were going to reject him. 

“O-okay? You’re sure?” He presses. 

“I’m sure. I can tell you truly meant what you said and I think this would be the better outcome for us. I don’t think I could picture my life without you in it.” You admit. 

“Then I promise you won’t ever have to picture it because I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you, Y/n.” Hyunjin declares. 

You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. You aren’t sure whether your head is throbbing from your injury or the thrill that comes with you and Hyunjin finally being together. 

You just hope that Hyunjin is able to keep his promise that he won’t ever leave you; and that in the end, you made the right decision. 

jisung | 1.1k (1115) words 

You and Jisung sit on your sofa with a cup of tea in both of your hands. It’s been ten minutes since he has arrived and not one word has been said between the two of you. 

That’s how things usually are between you and him though. You don’t particularly need to say anything to know what the other one needs. 

However, you fear that your senses haven’t quite been tingling like they ought to be. Since what you thought was commonly shared between both parties has seemed to only be dumped into one. 

An unrequited love is always bound to end in heartbreak and you’re sure that is how today is going to end. 

“Is it just me or do things feel a little odd?” Jisung says breaking the ice, but in a way which has submerged the two of you in ice cold water. 

“Well I think I would be a little more fraught if things didn’t feel odd.” You add. 

You aren’t exactly happy with him at the moment either. In fact you think it’s in his best interest to explain just what he meant in those text messages. 

“Explain yourself then.” You say not beating around the bush. 

Jisung places his mug down before turning to you. 

“I wanna start by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I worded what I was trying to say in those texts. You aren’t stupid Y/n, I promise. I’m the one that’s being stupid.” He meets your gaze and you give him a single nod. 

“The truth is, I don’t think I’m ready to have a relationship with you.” 

If your feelings are hurt, you will yourself not to show it on your face. Except your face goes pallid as you feel the knife stab directly into your beating heart. 

“Then why make it seem as if we were? Why not shut it down? Better yet, why use me to get your rocks off and make me think that I am going to amount to more than just your best friend?” Your voice croaks, unable to hide the emotion you’re feeling. 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. 

“I can’t give you a definite answer of why I did all of that right now.” He says quietly. 

You can’t help the scoff that falls from your mouth. 

“What the fuck Ji? Why are you even here then? What are we even doing?!” You say starting to grow more upset. 

His eyes widen slightly as he looks at you. He places a hand on your arm and is surprised when you don’t shrug him away. 

“I promise I don’t mean to vex you, I just don’t have an answer because I don’t know. I just know that us having slept together made things seem…real. Like we were actually happening. When in actuality we weren’t and never will be.” 

That was a punch to your gut so hard that your body viscerally reacted to his words and hunched over slightly. You can’t believe what you’re hearing. 

This can’t be the Jisung that you were friends with for so long. No, he would never say something so outright. 

It’s as if he hasn’t even registered what he just said because his face is that of worry as to why you are stunned silent. 

“Jisung,” he winces at the use of his full name. “What did you expect to happen between us? Be honest, don’t say that you don’t know.” You speak gently. 

He thinks for a moment, his hand slipping from your arm as he uses it to fiddle with the zipper of his jacket.

“I just expected for us to play around and not take it to the next step. I just wanted a bit of fun with my best friend. That’s not so bad is it?” He confesses, looking at his feet. 

The knife is pushed deeper. 

You honestly aren’t sure how to react. What to say or even do. So you sit in silence. 

Minutes go by and all you can hear are the hum of the electronics in the room and the breathing of Jisung. He always has been a loud breather. 

A clearing of the throat pulls you out of your trance. 

“Please say something, anything.” He pleads. You slowly turn your face towards him. 

“What would you like me to say Jisung? I have just found out that my best friend—you—has been using me for shits and giggles and being a total ignorant asshole while he does so.” You retort. 

He shakes his head as he frowns at your words. 

“No, no I’m not the bad guy here. I didn’t use you just for that. Why would I do that Y/n? You mean more to me than that.” He runs his hand through his brown locks, getting frustrated. “Look, I don’t think we should blow this too much out of proportion. We did something that we shouldn’t have and now we just have to move on.” He says. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“You’re my best friend Y/n. You know me inside and out. Maybe I haven’t been so transparent with you lately. I just think that I need to figure out some stuff on my own because clearly everything I say is hurting you and I hate the way I hurt you. Fuck, just seeing your face now, knowing I was the cause. I can’t do this. Not anymore.” He says solemnly. 

You blink. The tears trickle down your cheeks as you take into account what he is saying. 

No. This isn’t your Jisung. Just give him some time and he’ll be back. He’ll come back. 

“What are you saying to me Ji?” He places a hand on your cheek before standing up and putting on his shoes. 

You immediately get up and follow him to the front door. 

“Jisung.” You whisper. He opens the door and steps out, stopping and turning to you once more. 

“I’m always gonna be in your corner Y/n. Okay? Always.” Jisung says as he smiles sadly at you and turns away from your door. 

Watching him leave feels like the knife is twisting uncontrollably. You shut your door, not wanting to see him in case you’ll do something stupid like run and stop him from walking out of your life. 

You’re angry, you’re hurt, you’re confused. You’re in a state of shock. Was that a goodbye? Will you ever see him again?

You cover your mouth with your hand as you sob quietly as reality sets in. You had just lost the man you had fallen for, your best friend. 

You aren’t sure if he is ever coming back. 

felix | 1.0k (1077) words

The sun is setting and you find yourself in the familiar skatepark which you and Felix frequently visit to hang out. 

This was a first, you getting here before him. It felt uncanny, especially since the skatepark is an empty void. It’s not like you’re here at the late hours of the night which is what you guys usually do, so where are the people?

As you sit atop the ramp wondering this, Felix climbs up and sits next to you. 

“Hey Y/n.” He greets. No remark about you being here before him for a change. You face him and greet him with a small smile. 

“The sky is pretty this evening. Any particular reason for why you wanted to meet at our spot earlier than usual?” He asks you. 

“I knew the sky would be worth seeing from here today. I also wanted to be able to see your face when you lie.” You deadpan. 

He audibly swallows at this which makes you chuckle and start to swing your feet. 

“I’m kidding. Just wanted to watch the sun go down.” You tease. 

It’s silent, bar the birds chirping and the rustle of the leaves as the wind dances through the trees. 

“So about what happened with us,” Felix starts. “You think that we are more than just best friends?” He asks. You hum in acknowledgement. 

“I thought we were more than best friends for a while. You know, since this whole shebang started. The sex was just what I thought was you being ready to take our relationship further. Though that was foolish of me to think and not double check with you.”

Felix, now turnt to face towards the sunset, is quiet as he takes into consideration what you have just said. 

“It wasn’t foolish.” He says ever so quietly. 

Your legs still their movement as you turn to look at him. His face is being kissed nicely by the sun right now, his freckles practically glowing. 

“Of course it was foolish Felix. Or else we wouldn’t be here now.” You smile as you tip your head back and close your eyes, letting the last of the sun’s warmth seep through your skin. 

“No. It wasn’t foolish because I was ready. Okay that’s not entirely true, I caught feelings months ago but I only became sure about them during that week I was away.” He softly speaks. 

You drop your head and look towards him. His eyes are still glued to the vast blanket of orange and yellow across the horizon. 

“But that’s not what you said in those text messages. You said that you think that boundary shouldn’t have been crossed in the first place. Yet now you’re saying this? Forgive me Felix, but I’m finding it hard to believe what’s coming out of your mouth.” You sigh.  

He finally turns and looks at you, a small scowl on his face. 

“I know what I said in the texts Y/n. I don’t go back on my word. I do think a boundary was crossed and as best friends it shouldn’t have been.” A beat. “Though that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel something towards you. That’s why I’m so confused.” He turns his head back towards the sky, the deep shade of blue starting to make itself evident. 

“Like I said, I didn’t expect to catch feelings for you and then have sex with you.” He finishes. 

You lay down, watching the dark grey clouds move. 

“Do you remember much of that night?” You ask. 

“Of course I do. How could I ever forget. I mean we are literally sitting on the ramp that it happened on.” He reminisced. 

“Remember when I told you that I was yours and you were mine? That was probably said in the heat of the moment, but I meant it Felix. I’m not the kind of person who says things for the sake of saying them. Plus, I’m not focused on anybody other than you.” You say, closing your eyes again as the cool air brushes against your face. 

Though your eyes are closed, you sense that Felix was staring at you. You hear his clothes rustle before you’re wrapped up in his arms. 

He is cuddling you. 

“Doll, I’m sorry. I didn’t just say those things because we were high off oxytocin. You really mean so much to me. I don't want us to argue, I just want us to be together. For real. No hesitations, no take backs. Just you and me living how we do, but together as one.”

You can feel something wet drip into the crook of your neck. You know it’s not raining so you figure he has started to cry. 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings Y/n. It’s not what I wish to ever do to the person I love.” He sobs. 

You open your eyes as you hear his admittance. The person he loves. The person he loves. 

“You love me?”

“I’m in love with you. I was trying to make sense of if I truly meant it over that week and I reacted like I did earlier because I know you didn’t love me back. I was embarrassed.” He confessed. 

You turn over in his arms as you grab ahold of his face. It’s dark now, but a nearby light creates a twinkle in his eyes. 

“I want you to be sure that this is what you want. You don’t have to promise me forever, but promise me that this is truly what you want until it isn’t.” You say gently. 

His bottom lip wobbles slightly as he takes a deep breath in then out. 

“I am sure. I promise. I love you, I’m in love with you. I want us to be best friends. I want us to be lovers. I want it all. I want you.” He whispers against your lips. 

You smile, wiping his tears away with your thumb. 

“Okay, me too. We’re locked in?” You hold up your pinky. 

“We’re locked in.” He connects his pinky with yours and pulls your face in to kiss you softly. 

The two of you lay there in each other’s arms for the rest of that evening until a security guard ushered the two of you away. 

As you walk hand in hand down the street, you’re just glad that you have this ball of sunshine all to yourself. For as long as time allows. 

seungmin | 1.5k (1518) words 

You were nervous. More nervous than you expected yourself to get. Which is probably how you find yourself scrambling to get your phone, sending Seungmin a message to say that you don’t want to meet up and would rather just call. 

His reply after reading your message was to immediately dial you up, leaving no time for you to think about what you’re going to say and how you’re going to say it. 

You answer the phone with baited breath. 

“Why didn’t you want to meet me? You nervous or something?” He says very straightforwardly. 

Yes. 

“No. Just realised that I have things to do and I can multitask if I speak with you over the phone.” You lie. 

You hear him sigh on the other side of the line. 

“I’d rather you weren’t multitasking whilst we are having an important conversation about us. Pay attention.”

Your jaw clenches as you bite your tongue. 

“Fine. Since you want to be such an adult about this, why don’t you do us the honour and start us off?” You quip. 

“You already know how I feel about that night. About us blurring those lines between friendship and something more. We shouldn’t have. Having said that, I value our friendship too much to let something like that fuck it up.” Seungmin says plainly. 

You roll your eyes, not understanding what exactly he means by that. 

“Okay…but you do realise that us sleeping together has changed everything, right?” You say unwavering in your tone. 

“Wrong.”

You waited for him to finish what you hoped would be a longer sentence, but all you could hear was the minor feedback from the other end of the line. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you try again. 

“What do you mean, wrong? Things can’t go back to normal after that night, shit, after everything that’s happened between us.” You exclaim. 

“And I’m not saying they have to—”

“You are absolutely not still using me as a way to blow your load Seungmin.” You interrupt harshly. 

You hear him groan on the other end of the phone to which you decide to put him on speakerphone and place him on your bed. You wipe your face with your hands in frustration as you wait for him to speak. 

“I’m not going to do this with you if you’re going to be angry for starters. Especially if you’re going to be interrupting me. Got it?” He asserts. 

You release a huff of air, choosing to stay quiet in regards to what he has just said, but you reluctantly agree. 

“Fine, sorry. Carry on.” You say as nicely as you can muster up. 

“What I’m saying is I care about you Y/n. I don’t think it’s fair that people have also been feeding you troubles about our friendship. It’s between us and not them. They don’t know what the fuck is going on and I’ll be getting on their asses for that later, but right now my focus is on you.” He explains. 

You stay quiet, noting the fact that he is now outside and walking. 

“Seungmin, you can’t seriously fault our friends for noticing something you were determined to ignore. We were doing things couples do!”

“But we aren’t a couple. That is what I’m trying to get at Y/n.” He says exasperated. You hear a police siren go by on his end of the line which muffles the last part of his sentence. 

“Then why even do all that with me? Of course I was going to catch feelings. I’d be stupid not to!” You exclaim, resting your head in your hands. 

He’s quiet. The only sounds to be heard is the distorted traffic. You sit there unmoving, wondering why he isn’t speaking. 

A loud series of knocks on your door jolt you out of your trance. 

“One second, someone is at my door.” You alert Seungmin. Putting on your slippers, you rush to the door. You open it and you feel your face run cold. 

Seungmin huddles over, catching his breath before he makes a show to end the call between the two of you. 

“I am not having this conversation with you over a fucking phone.” He pants. 

He lets himself in, your mind still boggled at the fact that he chose to fast walk over here just to have this conversation. You’re both touched and terrified. Touched because he seems to really care about talking about your relationship in person. Terrified because this is getting much more serious than you thought it was. 

It’s times like these where you wish you and Seungmin hadn’t planned to live so close together. Now you have no choice but to face him in the flesh. 

In the time that you were finally able to come to your senses and shut your front door, Seungmin had taken off his shoes and jacket and was standing behind you waiting. 

He grabs ahold of your hand and leads you to your own bedroom. 

“Seungmin, I don't want to have angry sex with you.” You blurt out. You could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle, but he’s already sitting you on the edge of your bed. 

He places his hands on your shoulders and imitates taking a deep breath in and out. 

“No, that is not what I’m here to do.” He crawls up to the top of your bed and sits resting against the headboard. “I am here to make amends and stop what shouldn’t have started in the first place.” He says calmly. 

You have to hold your stomach to try and soothe the impending vomit that is about to ascend up and out of your mouth. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you Seungmin. What you did, knowing you never wanted it to happen or go this far, was not cool. I’m not saying you’re to blame for the whole of it…but as someone who was catching feelings and seemingly thought you were as well, I genuinely thought that us continuing to be intimate with each other was because you liked me.” You finish. 

As you sit crossed-legged at the foot of the bed and Seungmin sits at the head, you start to feel this strange disconnect between the two of you. 

Seungmin sits there silent, clearly thinking of something to say in response. 

“I…I think I didn’t stop it because it felt good.” He says. 

“Good because it was us or good because you had someone to calm your sexual frustrations?” You ask. 

The way he hesitates to answer and hold eye contact with you tells you everything you need to know. 

You let out a scoff, getting up from your bed and starting to pace laps in your room. 

“I cannot believe this. You were the last person who I thought would do this to me.” You say, pointing an accusatory finger at him. 

“Y/n you know I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I-I care about you!” He says now getting up from the bed. 

He goes to reach out and grasp your arm but you step out of his way, causing him to stumble slightly. 

Not only are you fighting your tears, but you are battling your inner turmoil. Something like this would deem him unfit to stay in your life, no?

You couldn’t possibly still be his closest friend if he truly just used you for pleasure, right?

“Y/n please look at me.” He says, his hands now balling up besides his legs. 

“I can’t do this anymore. I want you to leave.” You speak barely above a whisper. 

“What?”

“I want. You. To leave.” Your voice cracks slightly, but you turn around to face him. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open, as if he isn’t quite sure that this is what you mean. 

Taking the initiative, you walk out of your bedroom and to your front door. You hear his footsteps behind you, murmuring a few ‘waits’ and ‘calm downs’. Grabbing his jacket, you shove it in his chest and step back. 

Your arms are wrapped around yourself for comfort as you keep your head held low. 

Seungmin silently puts on his jacket and shoes and reaches for the door handle. Yet, as he is about to open the door, he pauses midway through his movement. 

“Leave your house or leave you forever?” He says disconcertingly. 

You lift your head up, his back facing you. You assess him for only a moment. His hand that strangles the door handle shakes slightly and his other hand grasps his jacket. 

“Both.” You choke. 

He doesn’t miss a beat. Swinging open the door and leaving without looking back. 

Just like that, all those years of friendship cut abruptly due to the confounding circumstances that conspired between the two of you. 

Some could say it was rather quixotic of you to expect that you could actually have a relationship with Seungmin. 

Though you would just say that perhaps falling in love with your best friend was never the right path, but one you were unfortunate enough to take. 

i.n | 1.2k (1257) words

You can’t control the way you feel. You’re hurt. You’re beyond angry. You’re hysterical. How dare he talk to you like that? How dare he disregard everything the two of you have been through because he wants to stay your ‘best friend’?

You well and truly can’t promise that you won’t blow up on him when he gets here. That’s if he even bothers to show up. He’s already twenty minutes late and you’re sitting in the cold, on a park bench, drinking your hot chocolate.

“Y/n!” Jeongin calls out to you as he walks over to sit beside you on the bench.

“Where’s mine?” He says, his voice laden with sarcasm as he points to your drink. He quirks his eyebrow at you as he assesses your mood and it certainly isn’t one accommodating his jokes at the moment. 

Breathe…breathe…

He turns to face you, one leg crossed beneath him as his arm rests on the back of the bench, his gloved fingers tapping a beat on your shoulder. 

“Are you feeling better now? You’re gonna talk this out with me like the adults we are, hm?” He smiles.

You turn to face him, unable to mask your ire. 

“Just best friends huh?” You speak for the first time in a while. 

Jeongin stops tapping your shoulder to run his fingers through his hair. Tugging his coat closer around him to provide some sort of warmth to not only protect himself from the bitter chill of the air, but the icy look in your eyes.

“I admit, crossing those lines with you was never my intention. Being that I didn’t kiss or sleep with you because I wanted a relationship with you. I guess I was just lonely, you were available…tensions were high and we couldn’t control ourselves.”

You actually feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. This is not the Jeongin you knew and loved as your best friend. No, he was far nicer than what you’re currently faced with.

You are rendered speechless. The only thing you can think to do is take another sip of your hot chocolate.

It would be ideal if your hands stopped shaking.

“You get where I’m coming from though right? Like I said, I care for you. More than anybody else I know, but what we did was a mistake and that’s okay. We’ll know to never let those boundaries be crossed again alright?” He says placing a hand on your thigh.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Y/n–”

“Jeongin get your hand off of me, now.”

The smile that you used to adore, now falls from his face. His lips thinning as his jaw clenches and his gaze hardens.

“I genuinely thought that you had reason to be so pissy at me, you know, due to your work being so busy and all,” You laugh bitterly. “But you really are just a fucking asshole.”

He rolls his eyes and moves to get up before your hand reaches out to stop him.

“Sit the fuck down, I’m not done with you. I’m only going to say it once.” You say acrimoniously. 

Heeding your warning, he sits back down, his hands finding solace in his lap. 

“See, I was speaking with Hyunjin when you were supposedly too busy to talk to me and he gave me some pretty good advice.” You say finishing the rest of your drink and setting it aside. 

“What are you doing asking him for advice? He has no business knowing what goes on between the two of us, let alone an argument.” He spits.

Ignoring his disapproval, you elect yourself to continue. 

“He said that you don’t deserve me in your life. That a best friend would never, should never treat me like that–”

“Oh bull-fucking-shit! He is only saying that so that he can gets his filthy hands on you himself.” He interrupts, shaking his head as he looks beyond the lake at the horizon.

“I agree.” 

Jeongin nods his head in approval to your words. 

“You don’t deserve me in your life.”

His head snaps to yours as he sits up straight, clasping his hands together as he tilts his head.

“What?”

“I am not your little fucktoy for you to use whenever you get sick of your hand. I’m not the easy option because I’m the closest you can get to getting off without people catching on. You know because we’re best friends, right? No one will suspect a thing, right?”

You have started, gone past the point of no return as you lay into him and rightfully so. 

“I thought you had calmed down from earlier? What, did you discuss with Hyunjin all of the things to say to me before I got here? The fuck does he know? He doesn’t even know you like I do!” He exclaims, his voice raising in pitch. 

You gawk, unable to believe how he just bypassed what you said to talk shit about his friend. 

“This isn’t about Hyunjin for fuck’s sake! This is about us! Or rather the lack of.” You stand up, taking deep breaths as you pace in front of him back and forth. “You keep talking to me like I’m some fucking child. Like I can’t comprehend the words that are coming out of my mouth.”

You stop in front of him, sighing. 

“I don’t want to be in your life anymore. I’m done.”

His eyes widen as he grasps ahold of your hands, his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just angry. You want me to apologise? Okay sure. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used you like that and let it get that far knowing I wasn’t ready for a relationship.” He begs. 

You feel your eyes start to well up with tears. This isn’t how you imagined a six year friendship to end, but alas, here the two of you are. 

He stands now, moving his hands to cup your cheeks, his eyes darting between yours. 

“Come on. Let’s not act rash now Y/n. It was a mistake.” He keeps trying to reassure you. 

You shake his hands off of your face as you take a step back. 

“It wasn’t a mistake for me. It never was and never will be because I didn’t just see you as someone who was available. I’m serious, I won’t be treated like shit. Not anymore and certainly not by you.” You affirm. 

He lets his hands fall to his sides, his fists clenching. 

“So this is it huh? You really wanna leave me, leave six years of friendship because you got your feelings hurt?” He asks. 

“Fuck you, Jeongin. Don’t contact me ever again. I’m finished.” You say scoffing a laugh. 

You pick up your empty cup and start to walk away, not bothering to turn back to see how he reacts. Only then do you let the tears run marathons down your face. 

Little did you know, his fists unclenched and his hands were brought to his face. He collapses onto the bench, watching your figure get smaller and smaller until he can no longer see you. 

It was in that moment, where Jeongin only just realised how royally he had fucked up. His head falls into his hands as he takes deep breaths. 

The smoke caused from the cold air and the warmth of his mouth floating along the sky. Much like you, floating out of his life and disappearing. Lost to the abyss of a forever memory in his heart. 

a/n: the plate is still full i fear because why do i hate this so much AHSGAIA SGAISBSKSVG (i apologise. i said i would deliver, but the package got lost in transit)

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting  and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

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[hiveswap]

Summary of The Cat of The Year poll atrocities of 2023/2024

I'm sure that most people on this side of tumblr have seen the Jellie vs. Nefarious Anglerfish poll going around with like 60k votes at this point, and I'd really like clear up some of what happened since I was around for the whole thing.

Url blocked out for op's privacy. They have already left but don't look for it if you haven't seen it/don't harrass them if you already have.

1. The previous round (preparation)

I discovered the poll in its previous round, needless to say she beat Jort's ass severely. This was around the 3rd of january, meaning that this round finished before jellie's passing with only about 7k votes. Op did add their own piece of propaganda from their main:

...which was FINE. (except for stuff we'll see later) Of course running a poll while biased isn't ideal but I for one didn't even know they were the op until much later. I also added my own piece in a separate thread, and they didn't interact with it at all. There was no drama.

2. The Finale

Jellie unfortunately passed away right before the starting of this poll, which was the catalyst for what happened next. Op did exactly as last time and added a slightly more mean spirited encouragement to vote for the other contestant. This is the point where I believe that i fucked up personally.

I added this thinkpiece accusing op of associating all mcyters with Dream (who we all hate for the record) despite them not alluding to him at all. This is because tumblr has a history of disimissing all mcyters as... everything that dream was been accused of. Op did allude to not caring for mcyt. but they didn't say what i accused them of. This is important to point out because this reblog of mine is still being spread. Jellie was in the lead at the time, but not by the time i woke up next morning.

I won't be including anyone else's additions because I don't want to put blame on any specific person. Just felt like clearing up mine.

3. The Fuckening

Some time later op made this post to their personal blog:

which is insanely shitty because, as other people have pointed out, the "lame ass youtube cat" didn't die to inconvinience op or ruin their fun, and people would have probably voted for her anyway because jelly is universally beloved in the mcyt community. This isn't anti democratic. This post was added to the poll with a caption saying op should not be running this poll, and it took off. Op later went on to say that this was a joke:

This apology was not taken well by people, (including me) because "you were not meant to see it" isn't an apology and they still very much made fun of someone's pet dying. Safe to say this did not make the drama stop and only added fuel to the flame. I believe this was the point where the conversation of mcyt fans being unjustly sent hate to was reignited.

We should discuss that! it's a real thing that happens often and is equal to childish bullying. However, in this case, OP was the only one getting sent hate to my knowledge. The notes were mostly saturated by mcyt fans, and even now i can only find one or two hateful stance towards us under the whole 20k notes post.

4. Conclusions

Op posted a second apology to the catoftheyear blog to try and calm people down (i believe this is comprehensive and a lot better than the previous one) The blog was deactivated shortly after, so i only have my phone screenshots of it that i also added to the poll itself at some point:

(Edit) Here's proof that op did not write the justification they got criticised for, from the notes of the original poll:

This apology didn't get seen, or get accepted by enough people, so op made this statement on their personal:

Needless to say I am deeply dissapointed (and guilty) that it's come to this. Yes, op said tasteless things that made us all angry, but telling a human being to commit suicide is worse than being insensitive about a stranger's pet dying. Even after I posted about the blog being decatived i had someone come into my notes to wish that "they never find happiness" i mean wtf. This isn't like shipping where we can do whatever without the content creator's input. this is fucking harrowing and i can't imagine how i'd feel if this was done in my/my pet's name especially after losing them as recently as a week ago.

I hope no one from hermitcraft who is on here (let alone scar holy shit) learns about this like they did with previous lighthearted tournaments. If you truly respect the creators you claim to be a fan of as people, you do not tell people to kill themselves over them. And finally, let Jellie fucking rest, guys. she had a long, good life. I hope op can come back and also avoids behaving like this if they ever wish to do so. I'm angrier at mcytblr, though.