#i imagine she brings all the fun to the lame meetings

[puretopia]

I made Cassian’s looong term girlfriend, she needs a name though!

[spacedace]

Something I've seen in fics a few times but not for comedic effect is the idea that Constantine selling his soul so many times makes him look/feel Wrong to ghosts.

Like I love various Danny ghost shenanigans giving Constantine a heart attack in stories but just imagine that Constantine is like deeply, deeply unsettling for Ghosts & Liminals to be around.

To the point of whenever he and Danny meet for the first time at the Watchtower after Danny's joined the League, Constantine just walks in and upon turning to look at who just walked in Danny just shrieks like a small child and throws a chair at him out of reflex, diving behind Captain Marvel to use him as a magical human meat shield while screeching "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT???! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" At the top of his lungs and doesn't stop until Batman makes Constantine leave.

Even after Zantanna explains Constantine's whole deal and Danny explains to the Justice League how totally fucked up that looks/feels like to him ("Dude, Ghosts are their core, for us you see that before you see the shape of whoever you're talking to. Like, imagine someone walks up to you with a face that looks like it's made out of a shattered plate and the pieces are bleeding"

Or like, imagine instead it's a thing were Jason and Jazz are dating and Jazz, Danny & Elle are invited over for a nice meet the family brunch - "Brunch is fun and casual!" Dick insisted, "Way less intimidating than if we had them over for dinner!") and Constantine pops in to talk to Bruce about a case.

And the second he walks into the room all three just shriek like they're from an episode of Scooby Doo.

Elle takes one look at Constantine and just nopes out of there so hard she doesn't even gk intangible as she throws herself out the window and starts flying for the hills. Danny screeches like a cat whose tail has been stepped on and jumps onto the ceiling and scrambles away. Jazz screams like a house wife from an old Looney Tunes cartoon and starts climbing Jason like a tree - which is a bit of a problem since she's half a foot taller than Jay and throwing his center of balance off a bit and now half of the plates are smashed on the floor.

Jason doesn't even notice though because he also is losing his shit over what the fuck that thing is and unlike Elle is far more interested in Fight rather than Flight and pulls out a gun - "Why'd you bring a gun to brunch?! Guns aren't fun or casual!" - and just starts unloading on Constantine (who is very lucky Jason has switched to non lethal rounds and that he's quick enough with his spells to largely keep most of the rubber bullets from hitting him) also while screaming at the top of his lungs.

And well, turns out Jason's new girlfriend is the older sister of that ghost hero the League's been looking to recruit and Bruce is gonna take advantage of that - Phantom has been hard to pin down, which is fair, bad history with government agencies trying to kill him and all - to talk to him about a place with JL, though first he's going to have to get him down from the ceiling and that'd be a lot easier if Constantine would just leave already, they are supposed to be having a family brunch this is his one day off!

(Elle screams her all the way to Metropolis and doesn't stop until she nearly knocks Superman out of the sky. He isn’t really sure what's going on, but he does manage to calm her down and takes her to go get some ice cream. When he pitches joining JL she tells him that she thinks he's kinda lame but that Superboy is cool so she's down. It's...honestly kinda devastating but Clark manages to get through it.

A note gets made when the two ghost heroes officially join the League that partnerships with Constantine should be kept at an absolute minimum.)

And lol yeah, just, Constantine being utterly terrifying to Danny and the Pham

[leclerced]

okok I’ve been pondering ever since the idea of the Charles au came about and now that more details have been thrown out there I’d love to share my thoughts about the origin of teammate!reader and Charles’ relationship!!

so I was thinking instead of the enemies to lovers trope I would love to see Charles absolutely obsessed with reader like takes his breath away head over heels as soon as he meets her in person for the first time. he’s been following her career from afar throughout f3 and f2 and always admired her talent and adored the fact that she looked drop dead gorgeous straight out of the car, like even if her hair was a tangled mess after a race it just worked for her, she had effortless beauty. and she was such a sweetheart and her media skills were top tier, so sponsors loved her and lots of teams were vying for her attention after she won the f2 wdc. so when the Ferrari seat opened up, Charles was secretly hoping his team would go after her so they could race alongside each other and work together to bring the constructor’s championship back home. he knew with the combination of his experience and her raw talent and spirit, they would make an amazing team! (and selfishly, Charles wanted her all to himself so one of the other drivers didn’t get the chance to charm her first)

so when they meet for the first time after Ferrari signed her he’s all smiley and heart eyes and stumbling over his words and reader is amused, sensing he was going to hit on her but he respected her too much to make a move right away. but little does Charles know, reader is starved for male attention and desperate to have some fun upon her arrival up to the big leagues of f1. she’s gotten a lot of negative attention in the past from sexist fans and dickhead drivers who felt threatened by their female rival so she didn’t get as much action as one might think. reader tries everything to get Charles to crack, purposefully wearing her skimpiest outfits to team events and dinners and taking every little opportunity to touch him or brush up against him, trying desperately to get his attention in the way she craves. one night they find themselves sitting across from each other at a crowded charity gala and she can’t focus on anything but the beautiful man in front of her, constantly catching herself zoning out and staring at his hands, imagining what they could do between her legs, his ringed fingers glistening with her arousal pumping in and out of her while his thumb toyed with her clit. she has to bite her lip to keep herself from moaning out loud, and Charles is just looking at her all confused, oblivious to her filthy thoughts about him. after one too many drinks, reader gets a lil too flirty and plops herself down next to Charles, giggling and twirling her hair and gazing up at him with the most obvious “fuck me” eyes she can manage. Charles gets all blushy under her gaze and tries not to read into it to avoid getting his hopes up but finally gets the hint when reader’s hand ends up in his lap, softly rubbing his thigh and he can’t help the dumb smile that spreads across his face as he meets her eyes and realizes the beautiful girl wants him back. they down a few more drinks to shake away their nerves and first-time jitters and make some lame excuse to leave the event so they can get out of there as fast as possible and spend the whole night fucking each other’s brains out, opening up a whole new world of opportunities to their relationship as teammates 😌 after that night they jump at every chance to get their hands on each other, I’m talking fucking all night after wins and double podiums, using each other’s bodies when one of them has a bad race, hooking up in their driver rooms between quali sessions, spending days/weeks off holed up in hotel rooms together so no one catches onto their budding romance, the possibilities are ENDLESS

I got a lil carried away sorry this is so long AKWJNENDJFJ but please feel free to add on to the brainrot or make suggestions!!! your opinion means everything and I know this is a safe space to share rambles and blurbs so I figured I’d try my best 🫶🏼

ugh no i love this sooooooo much i could cry!!! i want this. thx for the bedtime fantasy im going to sleep now!!

charles being SO oblivious to her wanting him and he wants to be respectful and isn’t going to come onto her bc he’s sure everyone does and he doesn’t want to be like that. she’s thinking she’s going to have to spell it out for him and he doesn’t pick up on her flirting and then she puts her hand on his thigh and she watches the realization hit him as he looks from her hand to her face. neither of them acknowledge it past the look he gives her, he just picks up where he left off on his sentence and they keep drinking until they see another member of their team leave so they deem it socially acceptable to leave too. they'd be so desperate to get their hands on each other but have to wait until they're back in one of their hotel rooms. i can def imagine charles saying he's been dreaming ab her for months while they're walking to his room and she gets a little annoyed and says, "are you kidding me? i've flirted with you all season why didn't you do something?" he feels so dumb as he starts thinking ab all their interactions and how she found a reason to touch him or make a sex joke out of nothing, or he'd hear her say oops and look over to catch a peek of her panties as she bends over. he admits he just thought she was being friendly, and mentions the panties and she admits that was also on purpose, she wanted to get a reaction out of him but he didn't do anything. he tells her he didn't know it was on purpose, that she touches everyone's arms and hugs everyone so he didn't think anything of her being touchy with him. anything that she did, he somehow explained it away as it just being her personality or him misreading the moment.

as soon as they're within the confines of his room, the conversation is forgotten and he's rushing to get his hands on her. he'd be cute and hold the door open for her and say "ladies first" while extending his arm into the room. as soon as she walks through the door, he shuts it, grabs her arm and jerks her back against the door and kisses her. the roughness stuns her and she's grabbing onto him to stabilize herself as he kisses her stupid and she's thinking, god if he kisses this good what else is he good at? and it's only five minutes max before he's sinking to his knees and hitching one of her thighs up on his shoulder.

can def see them constantly texting each other to meet in each other’s driver’s room after press conferences or races. exchanging hotel room cards in each city they go to and agreeing to go out celebrating after the race with the team and then meet in one of their rooms. texting during debriefs under the table wondering who’s room they’re going to.

their little summer break is spent holed up in charles’s apartment in monaco, he has groceries delivered so they don’t have to leave and it’s days full of him teaching her how to cook and play piano and speak french, but it’s mostly all the dirty words because he wants her to know what he’s saying when he starts blabbering in french about how good her pussy is. she’s constantly blushing and looking away from him when he’s teaching her new words and phrases, pressing her thighs together. he teases her for getting worked up while he tries to teach her french, and she says, “well i wouldn’t be so worked up if you weren’t talking about eating me out. like i dunno teach me how to introduce myself.”

[saltynsassy31]

19, 21, and 27 for the ship ask thingie :D

GAAAAAHH THANKIE FOR ASKIMG!!!!

Okay okay

Let's do this

19. Do they wear each other's clothes/jewellery?

Okay okay, so I imagine that Mitsuami isn't the type to own that many clothes/jewellery, it's not a priority, and even if it was, she wouldn't have the money to afford too many anyway.

So she ends up boworring a lot from Shady, who also doesn't have that many, but a lot more than Mitsuami has, especially on colder days, he tend to lend his jacket and stuff. She ends up "stealing" his clothes, but it's all part of Shady's plans, because she gets really awkward when people keep giving her so much, especially things out of her price range, so she'd take his clothes and he'd tell her to return it the next time they see each other and when they do she either forgets and apologises and he just waves it off or she DOES bring it and he makes some lame excuse he doesn't have anything to take the clothes back with him so maybe another time and he does that until she forgets about it.

So now she has more clothes that he was already planning to throw away but it fit her much better XD

21. Do they enjoy domestic life?

Very much so, Shady especially. He never thought he'd enjoy it so much but after getting together with Mitsuami and the two spending a lot of time together in each other's places he learned to enjoy doing chores more and helping out Mitsuami, he likes waking up extra early to cook her breakfast, cleaning her scavenged parts, planning out their day, etc.

Mitsuami enjoys having someone to do things, she gets a little bored easily though, always wanting to go out to do something but also enjoys staying inside (side not, I imagine Shady as an introvert while Mitsuami is an embivert, she is awkward around certain situations and would rather stay inside if given the option but also enjoys meeting new people and having fun with them and trying out new things, she gets nervous but gets comfortable easily). She enjoys the little routine they've made for themselves but likes to do something new from time to time.

27. How do they say "I love you" non-verbally?

Mitsuami: brings you things that reminds her of you, is constantly around you and will let you look/grab her collection (with some limitations lol) and give it to you sometimes to take a closer look

Shady: will do things to make your day easier, watches you from afar to make sure you're okay/has a good day, does your chores for you sometimes and will let you get physically closer with asking, even coming closer to you himself

THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE ASK ENJOYYYYY

[izfaish]

slowly catching up on loser ranger/ranger reject manga and holy shit. wtf happened. [spoilers for up to vol. 11 chapter 102]

what happened to the focused stories. the domino exploration of each keeper and battalion. who told haruba to ramp things up into a final arc(?) WHERE IS KOGAMA IS HE OK???

usukubo is being done so dirty... idc about your dad, he is a loser stan who eats up your screentime. inko is the only ira member i care about. hot take but she should've been the head of the ira.

i actually quite like souma, he's a nice grounding force compared to the others. and look, the whole exposing keepers for who they really are had its moments. but i wished it happened after we got to spend more time with pink and yellow battalion.

idk, coming from hisuki's arc and magatia, which really took its time, the latest arc(s) haven't been as compelling. it escalated far too quickly, esp. with the introduction of the ira.

like, i would've preferred meeting ukyo and sazan during the zoo mission, then following their journey towards joining the ira. or maybe d disguises himself as yumeko and infiltrates yellow battalion as per her request. that way we can learn more about yellow in that fun undercover way the series introduced. pink battalion being the last "obstacle" would be interesting considering that pink keeper is sakurama's sister. IDK I'M JUST??

i was half-joking, but the reason i say that inko should've been the head of the ira is because usukubo's dad (whose name i don't even remember) is interesting in terms of what he knows... not who he really is. idk, he's just... kind of lame.

i like that he's from an older generation who remembers certain things that conflict with the image of the dragon keepers now, and that he's fueled by the same symbolic devotion that made the invader church so dangerous... but like. that's kind of it. he does cool things but isn't cool at all. he's only the ira head bc of pretty privilege, idk.

inko, however, has a motivation that's kind of relatable? that dark and twisted grudge towards one's bullies, wanting them to get their comeuppance but the world isn't fair like that... only for the invaders to bring that for her... like damn. not only is it compelling imo, it could nicely tie in with the wider themes around breaking the status quo.

like IMAGINE if inko and hwalipon (or however you spell it) had worked together. if the keepers reminded inko of her bullies. we would get this shy and harmless antagonist who turns out to be threatening bc she has a point.

that's my self-indulgent wish, though.

i might have more thoughts to yell later but yeah. loser ranger,,, why.

[lifewiththelulus]

part 1

Trying to think of scenario where Atlantis and Match meet but failing.

Maybe she goes to a show to support her friends and sees him play lol Cus he plays drums right?

Yeah! It could also be Vapor's first singing performance with Bog and Match. That could be the main reason she's here.

Omg yes!! She's very intrigued by him when she sees how wild he is I imagine them to be opposites lol

She's very laid back about everything

Well except for her little accident and her boyfriend dumping her over it but that's something I'm still working on,,,

Match is definitely a wildcard and loves to cause chaos, think male Nimona

They're gonna be very interesting friends lol

He's not above breaking his instruments on stage XD

She's never feared anyone before him XD She sees him as the definition of "don't let them know your next move"

Aw but like Imagine her being super chill and her and match get left kinda just standing there while the rest of them start talking about going to get some food and celebrate a great first show She's just quiet and chill as usual waiting for the others to pick a place to go

Match, would shout out the place he wants to go and will try to sell them on it until they cave in. Also he might notice the way she always looks a bit sick when she looks at Bog.

At first she probably finds him to be a little annoying and loud but as the night goes on she finds herself snorting and laughing at some of the stuff he says lol

She tries to avoid sitting next to Bog or really just being close to him She's probably still hung up on him at least a tiny bit, even though she says it's cool and they can be just friends. She would never try anything with him again, but thinking of what could've been still makes her a little sad

Match probably thinks she's a bit of a stick in the mud at first, but once he realizes she has a sense of humor that maybe she could be fun. (btw is this before or after her oopise at prom?)

I'd say maybe after? But she hasn't told anyone except Kindlin and Cirrus

Idk if you wanna have Bog know cus I know you said he overhears lol

Yeah Bog probably wouldn't know yet.

ok. She probably hasn't broken up with her bf at this point since he doesn't know yet

They got along cus they were both chill but as soon as she brings up the oopsie he's getting the fuck outta dodge He's probably the type to say he'll do something then fall through and have some lame excuse Very chill and friendly until it inconveniences him. I'm thinking He's the reason Lily finds out

And of course Lily goes crying to her Dad "I'm just SO worried about her! She dated this earth guy in secret and now she's gonna have a baby! Poor cousin Atty is messing up her life! We need to tell Uncle!"

Of course Atlantis' Dad finds out and they get into a huge fight He's more worried about public opinion of her being a single teen Mom with a mixed element baby than he is about her well-being and gives her a week to figure something out. But we'll get to that eventually >:)

What is after Atlantis learns that jerk BF has fled, she goes into a depressive state. She goes to Garden of Fabric to pick her supplies and Match's mom's are concerned for their best customer. Match is there helping his moms and he's all "Hey I know you, miss doom and gloom! …Wow you look even worse than before."

Omfg I totally forgot they ran a fabric shop and she does fashion XD

after a bit of bickering he offers her to hang during his special nights out.

Lol She's just like "Wow thanks you sure are a charmer."

Lol I can see her being a peachy lil thing with his moms and as soon as he shows his face she just frowns expecting another cheery insult

lol Match always says the first thing on his mind, not realizing what he says might be rude.

She always thinks heavily about what she says before she says it lol It comes with the territory of going to business parties with her dad and not embarrassing him ever again like she did once

She probably comes by so much that after a while she's expecting to see him there One time she goes in and he's not there and she's slightly disappointed they won't have their daily "argument"

aww bicker buddies ^^

Imagine her going up there one day and instead of asking for fabric she's kind of desperately asking for a job She even mentions she knows where they keep everything already and can answer most questions if a customer asks. She's not proud of asking but every other place she tried didn't want a teen with no experience or didn't have an open spot

They would flip with joy to have her work there. (They also can see signs of her pregnancy so they make sure to give her the jobs that aren't too strenuous.)

She literally never cries but then saying yes made her have a break down of relief as soon as she was out of eyesight

She probably still doesn't tell them, and doesn't realize they know lol She's trying to keep it hidden until it's unavoidable

He doesn't stay there for long, he's usually visits once a day to see if his moms needs anything, otherwise, he's out with other friends and or practicing his drumming. Though he might take up a job when he learns she'll be working there. XD

So I'm thinking once she has the job she probably gets her own apartment close by. She probably spends her breaks sitting in the storage room making baby onesies and blankets If she can't buy things then dammit she's gonna make em

Once eventually everyone know about it, Match delivers some fabric and says his moms insisted she take them. She later learns Match payed for those for her not the moms

[erodasfishtacos]

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

**

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame. 

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

**

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face  relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels. 

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

**

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers. 

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

**

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless. 

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom.  Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

 Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,”  Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and  Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear. 

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

 Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her. 

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

*

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again. 

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife. 

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat. 

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction. 

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?” 

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

[getlostsquidward]

Can’t Help It I Want You

Agnes x fem!reader

A/N: Currently obsessed with you right (doja cat and the weeknd), I just can’t get enough of it.

Warnings: forbidden romance, cheating, implied masturbation, implied smut

I got a man but I want you.

You shouldn’t be feeling this way towards another person when you are married, right? Your husband must be the only person in your heart and mind, right? You shouldn’t be thinking of another woman when your husband is just beside you, peacefully sleeping.

You shouldn’t be thinking of Agnes while you bring yourself to release.

The guilt always comes after, and you’d feel terrible about it because the man on your side is a good one. But every night, you couldn’t help but imagine that it was Agnes next to you, your back pressed against her chest, whispering sweet nothings until you both fall asleep.

You don’t know how it all started. One day, Agnes was just helping you with your broken ankle when you crashed your bike, and the next thing you remember was the feeling of her skin against yours. Hands exploring each other’s body, each touch leaving a trail of burning desire. Nights spent with you screaming her name while she worships your body. The mind-blowing sex would always cloud your memory tending you to live in the moment as if there were no other people in the world and it’s just you and her.

It happened several more times until guilt hit you like a truck so you stopped talking to her, stopped seeing her. Avoided Agnes like the plague. It was more than just sex to you, whether you admit it to yourself or not.

But as the saying goes, running away from your problems is a race you’ll never win. So here you are, having dinner across Agnes with your respective husbands by your side.

Birthdays are supposed to be fun, right?

How could you have fun if the only person you were keeping your distance from was only a few feet away from you?

Well, you suppose you could if you run away with Agnes and leave your oblivious husbands behind and your entire life would be much more promising.

You shook your head to chase the intrusive thoughts away, pinching the bridge of your nose. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice your inner turmoil, but as expected you could still feel her baby blues flickering to you every now and then.

I try to hide it in my face

And it don’t work, you see through

That I just wanna get with you

You went inside the kitchen with the lame excuse of getting another bottle of wine when the truth was you couldn’t handle being in the same room as Agnes. You couldn’t handle not being able to hold her when she’s just literally standing next to you.

Agnes, behind her quirky and upbeat mask, has nothing on her mind but to meet your gaze in which she has been constantly failing. She was sure you could feel it piercing through you, but apparently, you had managed to learn to resist her in your times apart. Something stung her chest.

Making sure the husbands are still busy with whatever it was they were discussing, she followed you to the kitchen in hopes of having you for herself once again.

You should have known that this would happen one way or another. Maybe you just had to have closure so you two can end this chapter of your lives and move to the next.

“I came because I wanted to see you.”

Agnes broke the silence, bringing you out of your reverie. “Listen, I know you decided to stop seeing me, but–“

And you’re right

“I miss you,” you admitted. What’s gotten into your head, there’s no telling, but it was the truth. There’s still a lot that you would want to say but right now, that would suffice.

The brunette lifted her hand, stalled for a few seconds, not sure if she should touch you. Closed her fist, opened them again, then settled to place them on your shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. Your gaze flickered to her hand.

“I miss you too, darling. Very much. I know it’s- this is wrong, but being with you feels so right. I know you feel the same too.”

Indeed. Because I’m in love with you.

You elected not to vocalize that. Somewhere in your yearning, one of you had closed the distance and the hand that was previously on your shoulder is now resting on the back of your neck.

“I… I don’t… I don’t want you to kiss me,” you breathed, heart beating rapidly against your chest.

“Then why are you leaning in?”

Eyes flickering up to hers, you realized had bridged the remaining gap between you; that you’ve been staring at her lips the whole time; and this is the first time that you really looked at her. She’s still annoyingly gorgeous, the details of her features making you smile although sadly. How lucky you have been to lay your eyes on such beauty?

But there is something unusual this time.

“Your eyes… they look different now.”

They’re still the pretty blues, but the spark behind them has dulled. Empty. No life.

“Yours lost their spark too.”

The closeness of your bodies sets your nerves alight. You considered snaking your arms around her waist when masculine voices rang on your ears. The mere presence of Agnes drowns out others out, your senses always unavoidably focusing on her only.

You attempt to break away from her hold, but she didn’t let you as she switched your positions and trapped you between her and the countertop. Her frame towering over you has you shivering with need.

I got my guy

But I can't help it, I want you

“Our husbands are in the other room.”

“That’s never stopped us before.”

You gulped; tongue darting out to wet your lips. A million thoughts swirling inside your head but only one prevails.

Slightly tilting your head, you chase her lips, placed a chaste kiss as if testing the waters. As if you’re not sure.

Breaths mingling together, you stay there–content with the innocent peck until Agnes finally reciprocates and locks her lips with yours. Gentle and sweet–unlike the ones she gave you when she hadn’t – you hadn’t seen each other for a long time–rough and wet and sloppy. Hungry. But this time, it’s full of tenderness. It’s her– no, both of your deep longing for each other that couldn’t be translated with words. Or it could be if the circumstances were different and you are free.

Agnes could feel it in her bones, and her heart aches. For her, for you, for the future that you could have, together. It’s a kiss of goodbye.

[storiesforallfandoms]

she’s a baddie ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1846

request?: yes!

“Hi! I have a request for mgk (if your requests are open still) but I was thinking maybe something like colson’s girlfriend is a total badass and like has a bunch of tattoos and maybe is a rapper herself and he is kind of just gushing over her and tells everyone he can about how cool she is? <3″

description: in which he loves to gush about his badass rapper girlfriend at every opportunity

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

The minute he walked into the studio and saw her, Colson was in love.

Dom had asked Colson to be on a song with him and a long time friend of his, a fellow rapper named (Y/N). Colson agreed - he always loved to work with Dom and he loved to meet new people to collaborate with.

He wasn’t sure what he expected of (Y/N), but it definitely was not what he actually got.

(Y/N) was in the booth recording her verse. Already, her rapping abilities were for beyond even Colson’s. He was extremely impressed with her lyrics. As for her appearance: she was wearing a pair of tight, ripped jeans, a white button up dress shirt that was completely open with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the sports bra she was wearing underneath.

With all that skin exposed, Colson could see that she was nearly completely covered in tattoos. Her arms were covered in tattoo sleeves, all the way down to her hands and even fingers. There was an undercarriage tattoo poking out from under her sports bra, and another poking out from her waistband around her hip. She even had one on her neck!

She radiated badass energy, and Colson was drawn to her.

Dom looked up from where he was sat and got up to hug Colson. “Hey mate! Just in time, (Y/N) is finished her verse!”

(Y/N) had stopped rapping when she noticed the commotion outside. She was looking at Dom and Colson, as if waiting for them to tell her what to do.

“(Y/N), come meet Kells!” Dom called.

She walked out from the booth and smiled at Colson. “Nice to meet you. Dom talks so highly of you, and I’m a bit of a fan.”

Colson smiled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too. Dom’s talked you up to me a lot, too. You definitely live up to the hype.”

(Y/N) tried to hide her smile to keep her cool status, but Colson could see the corners of her mouth tilting upwards. She put her hands in her pockets and shrugged modestly. “I’m okay I guess. Thanks though.”

“Her verse is amazing,” Dom said, bringing the attention back to him. “Just wait till you hear it when it’s finished.”

Colson sat with Dom to go over the verse he had written. (Y/N) sat behind them, distracting herself on her phone while the men worked. Every so often he would glance over his shoulder at her, hoping to catch her attention for even just a moment.

“She’s single mate, go for it,” Dom said in a low voice, but certainly not low enough that (Y/N) didn’t hear it.

Colson’s eyes widened and he quickly looked over his shoulder at her again. Her attention was still on her phone, but there was a knowing smile on her face.

When the three had finished in the studio and were preparing to go, Colson finally decided to talk to (Y/N). She was heading out the door when Colson approached her, falling into step beside her.

“Your tattoos are cool,” he said, immediately cringing at how lame the compliment was.

(Y/N) smiled brightly at him. “Thanks! They better be for how long they took and how much they cost. Yours are pretty sick too.”

“Thanks. A few of them are kind of old and I regret a little but that happens.”

“When you have as many as we do, you eventually regret one or two.”

There was an awkward silence as the two continued into the parking lot. Colson tried to wrack his brain for some way to save the conversation, but everything he came up with felt dumb or lame. He felt his heart fall to his stomach when (Y/N) pulled keys from her pocket and unlocked a car in front of them. He knew he’d eventually see her again, but he didn’t want their time to end just yet.

Before getting into her car, (Y/N) turned to Colson and put her hand out. “Give me your phone.”

He was taken back by such a direct request that his mind couldn’t comprehend what she had asked at first. “What?”

“Phone, unlock, give.”

Colson took his phone from his pocket and did as she asked. (Y/N) opened the contacts app on his phone and added her name and number, and even took a selfie of herself to set as the contact photo. She sent herself a text so she could have Colson’s number before passing the phone back to him.

“Let’s get drinks some time,” she told him before climbing into her car and starting it up. The roaring of the engine made Colson realize that even her car was badass.

He never would’ve guessed that that one encounter would’ve led to such a strong relationship between the two of them. Colson took (Y/N) up on her offer to go get drinks and, next thing he knew, he was waking up the next morning with her in his bed after deciding to be in a real relationship.

When the news hit the media, both of their fanbases exploded with excitement, saying how (Y/N) and Colson were perfect for one another. Even the tabloids couldn’t find a bad thing to say about the relationship. In fact, they constantly praised the two and complimented them whenever they were saw out together. As much as Colson hated the vultures that were paparazzi, it was hard to be as angry when they were actually saying nice things about him and the woman he loved.

And Colson couldn’t get enough of hyping his girl up. Even when she wasn’t there, all he did was talk about how cool and badass she was. It eventually got to a point that his friends would have to tell Colson that every time he mentioned (Y/N)’s name when she wasn’t around, they were going to hit him.

On the night of Dom’s album release, which featured the song that had brought Colson and (Y/N) together, Dom decided to throw a massive party to celebrate. Colson showed up with his friends, fashionably late as always. It didn’t take him long to navigate the large crowd to find his stunning girlfriend, who was wearing a skin tight black dress that hugged her body and came down to her thighs, paired with a pair of black stiletto heels and her hair pulled back in a braid. Colson couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over her body as he walked up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, bringing her attention away from her conversation to him for just a moment.

“Sorry to steal her away,” Colson said to her conversation partner, “but I just had to tell my girlfriend how fucking stunning she looks tonight.”

A bright smile spread on (Y/N)’s face as the person she was talking to made a fake vomiting sound, but was smiling none the less.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, hot stuff,” she said with a wink. “Wanna grab a drink and I’ll be over in a minute?”

“Sounds good, baby.”

Colson kissed her head as his hand trailed from her waist to her ass, giving it a quick squeeze before walking away. (Y/N) turned and watched him go with wide eyes, but also with an amused smile on his face. He smirked to himself as he made his way to the bar.

Slim and Rook were already stood there, two empty glasses in hand but too distracted by their conversation to get refills. Colson ordered two drinks, one for himself and one for (Y/N), before looking back across the crowded room at her. An involuntary smile stretched across his face as he looked at the familiar tattoos that were peaking out from her dress.

“Bro, if you say one thing about (Y/N) I am going to punch you in the fact,” Slim said, snapping Colson out of his trance.

“What?” he said. “Dude I wasn’t going to say anything about her.”

“You have that look on your face man,” Rook pointed out. “The look that says the next thing out of your mouth is gonna be something about how badass (Y/N) is.”

The bartender passed Colson his drink and he immediately swallowed half of it. “I’m sorry for thinking my girlfriend is the coolest shit since sliced bread, but that’s how relationships are supposed to work.”

“That’s not how they’ve worked with you before,” Slim said.

“Yeah, before it was a lot of sex and PDA and eventual fighting,” Rook added.

“What I have with (Y/N) ain’t like that, guys,” Colson said. “I know I move way too fast in relationships and they all end the same way, but when I say that it was love at first sight for me with (Y/N), I mean it. I mean, look at her, how can you not love her? She’s not just another girl who wants to be all over me and gets jealous or upset when I’m gone for long because she actually understands that this is how my job works. And she likes to drink and smoke weed and party, so she’s actually fun to hang out with. On top of all that...well...just look at her! She’s smoking hot and badass as fuck. I’m sorry that I tend to talk too much about her and all, but I can’t help it. I’m really happy.”

During his speech, Colson hadn’t noticed that (Y/N) had finished with her conversation and approached the three of them. She joined the group just in time to hear how happy he was to be with her, which had managed to bring happy tears to her eyes. She tried to blink them away as to not ruin her makeup, but it was hard when Colson’s kind words were replaying in her head.

“You mean that?” she asked, causing the three men to jump and to look at her.

“Damn, you move quick girl,” Slim commented.

“How much did you hear?” Colson asked.

“Enough of it,” she responded.

Slim and Rook exchanged a glance before excusing themselves from the conversation. Colson held out (Y/N)’s drink to her and she gladly took it. She leaned into his side as he wrapped his arm around her again, fitting perfectly against him like two puzzle pieces.

“I meant every word I said,” he told her. “I think you’re the coolest chick I’ve ever met and then some. Way too good to be dating a dork like me.”

“You’re anything but a dork,” she said. “And even if you were, you’re my dork, and I can’t imagine having anyone else by my side.”

Colson smiled that adorable, goofy smile that (Y/N) loved so much. She mirrored it before leaning up to kiss his lips. His grip around her waist tightened as he held her close, never wanting to let her go.

[gleamglowsgraveyard]

Ask for a sirius request and you shall receive. I've been thinking about this idea for a while (and your writing is perfect for it ily) but how about a ravenclaw reader who is friends with james or remus and they introduce them? The one in my head was remus going to her dorm for a sleepover and bringing sirius and just being like "isn't she neat :)" and sirius immediately falling in love 🥺 no pressure if you dont vibe with it 🥰 ily bunches

i went to ravenclaw tower and all i got was this lousy stained shirt

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: james and remus play matchmaker for you and sirius

content: ravenclaw!reader, fluff, it gets awkward (some of this was hard to write... 😭😭), dialogue heavy, you and sirius are very back-and-forth-y and witty (you’ll see what i mean), i know the title is long but i thought it was funny and i can do what i want

this was such a fun request!! i hope you don’t mind i took some liberties because i just immediately imagined remus and james secretly trying to match the two of you up for a while!! also i turned the sleepover into a party at ravenclaw tower!! (also also i came up with some cute ravenclaw girl ocs just for this, they were supposed to be minor but ended up having their own sideplots because i get carried away with everything. but they were fun to write! i gave them backstories and everything so if anyone wants to know more about them just ask :)

warning: mentions of alcohol!!

“You should meet Sirius.”

“Black?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you know another Sirius?”

You stick your tongue out at him and Remus smiles.

“What is it with Sirius, huh?” you tell him, adding a few drops of rain water into the potion before handing Remus the spoon to stir. He takes it and immediately gets to work.

“You and James,” you continue, idly counting Remus’s counterclockwise stirs in your head. “Not a day goes by where you don’t tell me I have to meet Sirius.”

In truth, you’d seen Sirius a few times. And he’d seen you, but neither one of you had actually spoken more than a few words to the other. Especially not since sixth year. Sirius had dropped Potions and Astronomy as quick as he could - the only two classes you’d had left with him. And seeing as you were in different Houses, bumping into each other in the common room was off the table as well.

But you had Potions with Remus and Astronomy with James, and whenever they could, they would always mention how you just had to meet Sirius. You sometimes wondered if Sirius was always being told he had to meet you.

“I just think you’d get along,” Remus shrugs, halting his stirring before you can even tell him to do so.

You both work in tandem for a bit after that, dropping ingredients into your potion and stirring when needed. You liked partnering up with Remus for this exact reason. You’d both fall into a comfortable silence and develop a good rhythm - you just flowed well together.

Once the potion is nearly finished, Remus speaks up.

“What about tonight? Isn’t there a party at Ravenclaw?”

“Robin says not to call it a party.”

“Well, that’s what it is.”

“Yeah, but we can’t call it that. At least not out loud,” you insist, not wanting your dorm mate’s wrath to come back later and haunt you. “It’s a quiet get-together,” you correct him.

Remus scoffs, knowing damn well that Ravenclaw parties are anything but. “That, then. You can meet him there.”

You raise an eyebrow in complete disbelief. “You’re gonna get Sirius Black to come to a Ravenclaw party?”

“What happened to quiet get-together?”

Damn it.

You quickly spare a glance at Robin, but she’s all the way across the room, scolding her partner for something he did to their potion.

“Good luck with that,” you continue, pretending to ignore his quip.

“We’ll convince him!” Remus assures you, as if it’s the least of his worries.

“Okayyy...” you sing, entirely unconvinced.

You’ve never seen Sirius Black at a non-Gryffindor party. He has way too much House pride to ever be caught partying in another common room. You’re almost positive you’ve seen him root for Gryffindor at Quidditch matches even when the team isn’t playing.

“Okay? So you’ll meet him?” Remus presses.

You laugh. “Okay! I guess!” you tell him, resigned. “But you and James have been hyping him up for a while, so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t live up to my expectations and I end up hating him.” You shrug a shoulder as you turn down the fire under the cauldron.

Remus just grins. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

.

.

.

Despite your nonchalant attitude with Remus earlier today, you actually find yourself feeling a bit nervous.

“Hey, do you guys know Sirius?” you ask over your shoulder as you straighten your outfit in the mirror. “Black?” you add quickly.

“Did you just ask us if we know Sirius Black?” A shrill voice cuts through the air and you know immediately that it’s Robin.

You groan, “I know, I know, everyone knows-”

“Everyone knows him,” Robin talks over you, and then sprays a copious amount of hairspray into her already voluminous blonde locks.

You move out of her way so she can use the mirror and she gratefully takes the opportunity, stepping in front of you to fluff up her roots.

“Yeah, how do you not know him?” Bea calls from the bathroom, where April is helping her into her dress.

“I mean, I know him,” you say, flopping down on your bed. “But I don’t actually know him. You know?”

“He was April’s first kiss!” Bea taunts. She makes several kissy noises and then you hear her say ‘ow!’

“You’ve got to stop bringing that up,” you hear April scold, “It was second year!”

Bea giggles and then skips out of the bathroom, April trailing closely behind.

Bea has on a stunning yellow sundress with long, belled sleeves - going all out, as usual. The color compliments her dark skin beautifully, but you know she’s really only wearing it to lure in that Hufflepuff boy she’s had her eye on.

April has still yet to get dressed, always waiting until the very last minute, but her straight black hair has been flawlessly curled - presumably Robin’s work.

“So what is it? Why do you wanna know about Black?” April asks politely, leaning against your bedpost as Bea sits on her trunk to slip on her shoes.

“James and Remus... They���re gonna get him to come here.”

Bea nearly drops her shoe, and Robin spins around to face you.

“Here?” The two say at the same time.

“Is he really?” April asks mildly, voice much gentler than the other two.

You shrug and nod your head at the same time, giving them an uncertain look. “I think so? Maybe? If they can convince him.”

There’s a beat of silence and then the hissing sound of Robin’s can of hairspray fills the air once more as she frantically tries to get her hair to cooperate. At the very same time, Bea starts to rummage around her wardrobe, muttering to herself about how ‘I think I have a red dress in here somewhere...’

It’s clear they’re both doubling their efforts, hoping to catch Sirius’s eye.

You laugh a bit and then turn to look at April, whose eyes are stuck on Robin’s reflection. She has a solemn expression on her face, but quickly snaps out of her trance when she notices you watching her.

“So,” she starts, putting on a small smile, “You’ve really never met Sirius Black?” she asks, sitting down beside you and crossing her legs beneath her.

“No, but I hear you have,” you tease, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, the first and only boy I’ve ever kissed.” She rolls her eyes.

You hear Robin fumble with her can of hairspray but think nothing of it.

April continues, “Anyway, that was second year,” she waves it off. “I do have muggle studies with him.”

“What’s he like?” you find yourself asking.

April shrugs a shoulder. “He’s nice, I suppose. Funny. Asks the professor a lot of questions about motorbikes.”

You tilt your head. “Motorbikes? Why?”

“Who knows. I think you two would get along, though.”

“Why’s that?”

April observes you for a few beats and then laughs a bit. You expect her to say something more but she just gives you a slight nudge with her elbow and then walks off, most likely to go get dressed.

Well that was pointless. You didn’t really learn anything useful. But then again, you’re not sure what you expected out of a conversation with April, who tends to keep her talking to a minimum (She claims it makes her more mysterious) (And she’s right, too).

Oh well. Perhaps you could find a way to strike up a casual conversation about motorbikes with Sirius.

Yeah, right.

.

.

.

It’s a few hours into the party when the door opens up, letting in James and Remus. Trailing behind them, looking unnecessarily wary, is Sirius Black. He traipses around as if at any moment something in the common room is going to jump out and bite him, and you struggle to stifle a laugh.

You quickly wander off before any of them can spot you, fleeing towards where the drinks are. You figure that when they find you, you may as well be doing something instead of just lamely standing around. So you pick up the ladle and start to refill your cup.

April had transfigured her cauldron into one made of glass, and Robin had used it to concoct her famous sickly sweet, lavender colored drink that she’d aptly named ‘Robin’s Brew’. It was made up of a mixture of muggle and wizard liquors, as well as a myriad of different fruit juices. The taste itself was actually semi disgusting, but you get used to it after the initial few sips.

You ladle some more of the drink into your cup and then spin on your heel, ready to resume the search for your friends.

That is, until you crash face first against a broad chest, effectively spilling ‘Robin’s Brew’ all over whoever you just bumped into.

“Oh my gosh!” you blurt out, setting the now empty cup down. “I am so sorry, I-” Your words catch in your throat when you finally look up to see the person’s face.

So much for a good first impression.

Sirius waves you off, looking down at his now purple stained white shirt. “Don’t worry ab-” he stops in the middle of the word as he raises his gaze to look at you.

His lips are still slightly parted as if his voice had simply escaped him mid-sentence, and his expression is stunned and mesmerized all at once.

“I, um...” he tries again, but it’s as if he’s been put in some kind of trance just by looking at you.

“Oh, great! You’ve met!” A cheery voice cuts through the tension, and you both turn your head to find James beaming at the two of you.

Trailing behind James is Remus, who takes in the state of the two of you and grimaces.

“Met?” Sirius voices as he looks at James, sounding a bit dazed.

“Yeah, remember? Y/N!” James reminds him. “She’s great, right?” he grins, and you cringe.

“Oh, this is...?” Sirius slowly turns his head to look at you again. “Hey...” he says faux-smoothly, as if attempting to salvage your very first meeting.

“Hey...” you say back a bit awkwardly. “Um... Look, there’s towels in my dorm, we can all go?” you suggest, looking to the others for approval.

“Why don’t you two go?” Remus proposes instead, and you shoot him an alarmed look.

“Yeah!” James nearly shouts, looking at Remus as if he’s a genius. “Yeah, you’ll find us later!” he’s quick to agree, and they both start to walk away.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I don’t know if-” you start, not sure if comfortable enough to be alone with a man you just met after spilling your drink on him.

But Remus and James don’t wanna hear it.

“Alright! See you later!” James throws a finger gun at you as he walks backwards and then spins on his heel.

“But I-”

“Bye!” Remus calls, and then they both disappear into a small crowd of people.

You turn to face Sirius, whose shirt is still dripping and who’s watching you with rapt intrigue. He turns away the moment your eyes meet, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Soon enough you’re leading Sirius down the corridor that leads to your dormitory, trying desperately to remember whether or not you’d tidied up your area of the room.

The door swings open just as you arrive at it, and from out of it come April and Robin who seem to be having a serious looking discussion. They quickly stop talking as soon as they spot the two of you, and April is quick to storm off, leaving Robin behind.

“Oh, you’ll want to get rid of that,” Robin says with a wince, gesturing at Sirius’s shirt. “The stain actually gets darker the more you try to get it off... So...”

You give a heavy sigh. “Yeah, thanks Robin.”

She shrugs apologetically with both hands in the air and then starts to walk off. “Robin’s Brew! Patent pending!” she calls over her shoulder as she scurries off to catch up with April.

“What’s up with them?” Sirius mutters under his breath as you lead him inside.

“Well, aren’t you nosy?” you’re quick to reply.

You say it as a joke, but immediately wish you could take it back. What were you thinking?! You didn’t know Sirius enough to joke around with him like that! You didn’t know him at all! Hell, you’d just spilled your drink all over him, for all you know the guy hates you!

You spin around, ready to apologize, but then Sirius is laughing, and you nearly let out a massive sigh of relief.

“Uh-” your apology catches in your throat for a moment but you quickly recover. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, nosy is my middle name,” he tells you with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

You find yourself smiling back. “Sirius Nosy Black, huh?”

He hums. “Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both look at each other. Your thoughts leave you a bit as you get distracted by that strange way that he’s looking at you, but then you remember with a jolt that Sirius Black is in your dorm, shirt stained lavender and dripping ‘Robin’s Brew’ onto the floor.

“Um!” You scramble towards the bathroom and yank a random towel off the rack. “Here,” You toss it and Sirius catches it with one hand.

“You can, um...” You trail off but then realize you’re still standing in the doorway, effectively blocking his entrance. “Oh!” You quickly move out of the way, leaving a clear path for Sirius.

“Thanks,” he says with a slight laugh before disappearing into the bathroom.

Once the door closes you’re left alone, idly shuffling around, not really knowing what to do now.

This was horrible. All of this was horrible. You’re alone in your dorm with a man you’ve just met - sure he’s friends with Remus and James, but that doesn’t mean it’s not awkward!

You have to focus. You have to avoid any more tense silences. What would you say when he got out of the bathroom?

You suppose he did laugh at your quip earlier - he’d even added a little joke of his own. You’d gone back and forth a bit. It was easy to converse once you’d gotten started. But getting started was exactly the issue... You needed a good topic. Why can’t you think of a good topic?!

The door to the bathroom opens up and out walks Sirius, leather jacket now slung over his forearm and white shirt drier, but still equally stained.

You panic.

“Hey, do you like motorbikes?” You blurt out, and then have to resist the urge to hurl yourself out the window.

Sirius’s eyes widen and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking like a stunned fish, before saying “Motorbikes?”

You purse your lips. “Yeah, I was...” You shrug, trying to play off your very strange, very targeted question as just casual conversation. “I was just wondering... I dunno...” you say, leaning against one of your bedposts.

Sirius breaks out into a smile. “I have a motorbike.”

“Really! No way!” you exclaim, pretending to be shocked. Although you didn’t really know Sirius owned a motorbike, it wasn’t all that surprising considering what April had told you just a few hours ago.

Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly, looking at you as if he’s trying very hard to figure you out. “Yeah... I’m fixing it up right now...” he tells you, still grinning.

“Oh? Is it broken?”

He tilts his head back and forth a few times and then says “Not exactly.”

You cross your arms. “Then why are you fixing it up?” you challenge.

Sirius just rolls his eyes. “Well I’d argue that anything that can’t fly can definitely be improved.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “You’re gonna get your motorbike to fly?”

“Laugh it up now!” Sirius nods as you bring a hand to your lips, stifling your giggles. “No one’ll be laughing once I finish my flying motorbike!”

“Oh, I’d love to see it in action.”

“Sure, I’ll take you on a ride once it’s done,” he tells you, voice genuine.

That shuts you up. All of a sudden you find that you have no witty response. Apparently out of all the things that could have rendered you silent, the prospect of going on a ride on Sirius Black’s flying motorbike seems to have done the trick.

Sirius notices.

“I mean- If you want.” he quickly says, raising a hand. “I mean- Sorry. I know we just met, and I made you spill your drink, and I think I stained your towel with whatever that drink was - sorry about that too - but I-”

“Hey,” you cut him off, giving him a pointed but lighthearted look.

He gazes back expectantly.

“I’d love to,” you assure him, and he grins.

You don’t even remember what you were so nervous about. This was easy. Talking to Sirius was so easy once you got into a rhythm.

So you did.

You talked for a while, and when you got tired of standing you laid down on your bed, face down, head resting in your hands and legs kicking behind you as Sirius sat cross legged on your trunk in front of you. You talked about possible spells and modifications for Sirius’s motorbike, you bonded about all the times James and Remus had tried to get the two of you together, you even just talked about whatever nonsense came to your heads.

You were still talking (now both sitting on your bed) when the door creaked open, letting in April and Robin. April was asleep and Robin was carrying her bridal style. You notice they’re both barefoot, but Robin only has April’s shoes in hand - hers were probably somewhere in the common room.

“Oh, hey,” you say in a hushed tone, not wanting to wake April.

“Hey,” Robin responds, though she’s not quite as cautious with her volume as you.

Earlier today you’d have thought Robin would’ve freaked out the moment she saw Sirius, but if she cares about him being in the dorm, she doesn’t show it.

“She fell asleep on the couch. Thought I should leave her here,” the blonde explains as she pads over to April’s bed. She drops the shoes on the ground and then pauses to look at you. “Do you mind?” she questions, nodding her head towards the bed.

You quickly get up, striding over to April’s bed and pulling back the blankets.

“Thanks,” Robin murmurs as she gently sets the raven haired girl down.

You pull the covers up again and April stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.

Robin finally acknowledges Sirius. “Hi,” she waves with a smile. Sirius smiles back. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s fine. We were just talking,” you assure her, and she nods a bit before turning her attention back to April, gazing down at her with a slight furrow to her brow.

“Where’s Bea?” you voice, curious.

“Went off with her Hufflepuff, I expect.”

“Mm. Is the party over?”

“Quiet get-together.” Robin corrects you without a second thought and you laugh lightly, sitting back down on your bed beside Sirius. “And yeah. I’m gonna go try to clean up a bit,” she says, sounding like the prefect she is.

You watch as Robin hesitates over April for a bit, smoothing the blankets over, brushing stray hairs from the sleeping girl’s face. It’s as if she wants to take care of her but isn’t sure how. In the end, she gives you a smile, bids a polite ‘goodbye’ to Sirius, and then exits quietly.

“We never went and found James and Remus,” you turn to look at Sirius once the door closes and he grins.

“I don’t think they ever expected us to.”

“You’re probably right.”

April stirs again and you get up to close the curtains of her four-poster.

“I should go help Robin,” you tell Sirius, and he takes the cue quickly standing up.

“Right. Sorry I kept you up.“

“No, it was fun. Sorry I spilled my drink on you.”

“No, it was fun,” Sirius echoes, and you give him a slight shove.

The two of you walk across the room and out of the door in comfortable silence, and once you’re in the corridor you speak up.

“So, hypothetically,” you start.

“Uh-huh,” Sirius assents immediately.

“If you wanted to... I don’t know... Have breakfast with me tomorrow...”

“Oh?”

“How would you go about that?”

“Hypothetically?” Sirius raises an eyebrow, as if double checking.

“Of course,” you nod.

“Well in this completely made up scenario,” he starts, “I’d probably meet you here at seven and walk you down to the Great Hall.”

You fight a smile. “Well, great.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Hypothetically I’d definitely be ready by then.”

“Perfect.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

You’ve reached the door that leads out of the common room by now, and you open it up, leaning against the frame. The rest of the castle is dark as it’s well past midnight, and you can hear the quiet sounds of nearby portraits snoring. You’d be worried about him getting caught, but with all the pranks the Marauders have pulled throughout the years, you know for a fact that Sirius Black had plenty of experience sneaking about the castle after curfew.

You watch as he lights his wand with a quick ‘Lumos’ and starts to walk off, but then he hesitates.

“What?” you voice as he turns around, walking back towards you.

He stops right in front of you, looking at you very intensely, scrutinizing every inch of your face. For a brief moment you expect him to lean in and kiss you, but then he speaks.

“I know you brought up motorbikes on purpose. That girl April takes muggle studies with me, and she-”

You quickly shut the door in his face and press your back against it, eyes wide and smiling despite yourself.

You scurry off to help Robin and a few others clean up, spirits high with the promise of having breakfast with Sirius tomorrow morning.

And who knows, maybe by tomorrow he’ll forget all about the motorbike thing. At least, you hope he does.

(He doesn’t.)

.

.

Bonus, the next morning:

“There they are!” James exclaims as you and Sirius approach the table.

“Did he live up to your expectations?” Remus asks you pointedly as you sit down, and you poke your tongue out at him in response.

And then you shrug. “I’ve gotta say, right off the bat I wasn’t impressed.”

“You’re the one who spilled your drink all over me. My poor new shirt! Ruined!”

“Oh, boo hoo. Where will you ever find another plain, white T-shirt?”

“It had sentimental value!”

“And now it has a cute new design! So you’re welcome.”

“You want me to thank you for a stain?”

“It’s a fun souvenir from your first time in a non Gryffindor common room.”

“I should write on it. Big letters: ‘I went to Ravenclaw Tower and all I got was this lousy stained shirt.’”

“At least the stain is purple, it looked nice. Suits you.”

“Are you saying I look good in purple?”

“Sure.”

“So you’re saying I look good?”

“I- I didn’t-” you stammer, and then groan.

“Ah-ha!” Sirius points a finger at you. “Outwitted by a Gryffindor! If only Rowena Ravenclaw could see you now.”

Across the table, Remus and James watch on in dismay.

“Are you already regretting getting them together or is it just me?” James voices.

In response Remus sighs, “Oh, it’s not just you.”

.

.

.

(hey ps for the sake of my sanity let’s just pretend there was no easy simple drying spell they could’ve used)

also: about robin & april

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taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[byunbaekby]

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

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

—DAY ONE.

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

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

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You love her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he wants you.

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

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

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

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

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

“You’re giving it up or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST TASTE.

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

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

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

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

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

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

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

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

Does he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want a puff.”

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

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

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

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

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

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” is his response.

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

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

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

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw drops. 

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

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

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just need to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST CRASH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tease me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

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

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

Cocaine. 

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

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

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathless, you nod without words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

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

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

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

Luckily, neither will find out. 

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

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

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

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

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

But that hadn’t happened.

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

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

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

—THE FIRST BURN.

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

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

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

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

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

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

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

It’s the cocaine. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

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

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

God, he’s fucked up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

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

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re not alone. 

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

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

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

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

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

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

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

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

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

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re different now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

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

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

He’s learned his lesson. 

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

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

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

“It’s not that, I—”

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

“Mark—”

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

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

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

“... Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark—”

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

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

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

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

“That was the last time.”

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

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

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

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

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

Oops

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings - criminal minds based mentions of violence (not really), drinking

Summary - When something slips out at the round table things between the Reader and Spencer get really awkward

(i got the idea from notjoselyn on tiktok)

Y/n walks alongside Penelope as they move through the BAU bullpen. Talking about the girls' night plans the girls have been working on for the last couple of weeks. "That club would be so fun," Y/n says brightly, "but did everyone agree? I mean it's a little you know loud and crazy."

"I mean Emily is always down," Penelope says, "especially when I ask her... And JJ needs a minute away from her kids. Even if she won't admit it."

"Little angels my ass," Y/n chuckles as they reach the round table, "oh my I have the cutest dress to wear. It's a little- you know."

"Oh, I do know," Penelope says smirking lightly, "you're gonna look hot!"

"Mmm you just wait and see," Y/n chuckles.

"Wait and see what?" Spencer asks as he joins the two at the table. The girls chuckle lightly as Spencer looks between them. "What?"

"Well, boy wonder we are talking about our upcoming girls' night," Penelope tells him, "specifically about the dress miss Y/n here is going to wear." Y/n chuckles lightly. Spencer nods lightly. "What color is it?"

"Black," Y/n tells her, "a little black dress moment you know?"

"Yes!" Penelope says brightly, "oh I can't wait." Y/n chuckles lightly. "I have this really cute dress picked out- it's purple very sparkly. Very eye-catching."

"Hot," Y/n says playfully. Spencer looks slightly amused with the banter. "I just hope JJ can keep up. I mean with all the mom duties she's been slacking behind on girls' nights... I feel like we are gonna exhaust her."

"Redbull drinks exist for a reason," Penelope says.

"Right," Y/n says.

"What even happens on a girls' night?" Spencer asks.

"Chaos," Y/n tells him, "We all drink until we can't stand. Dance with strangers. Leave the FBI training at home and have fun."

"Sounds dangerous," Spencer says, "do you have a designated driver?"

"Uber," Penelope tells him.

"That's not safe," Spencer says, "do you guys not pay attention to the cases we get? How many of the girls we see started out at some random bar?"

"If you're so worried you be our dd," Y/n offers. He looks between the two girls carefully.

"Fine," He says, "I'll go."

"You can't go," Emily says as she and JJ join them at the round table, "it's girls' night."

"I won't ruin the fun I'll just keep you from dying," Spencer says, "1 in 5 violent victimizations involving perceived alcohol use by the offender."

"That's ruining the fun Spence," JJ says placing her hand on his shoulder, "we are big girls-"

"No no, he wants to be DD then let him," Y/n says, "we save uber money that way. Plus he can't be the one that gets to play wheres, Emily."

"Or Can we keep clothes on Penelope," JJ chuckles. Y/n nods lightly. Spencer raises a brow lightly. "Just remember you signed up for this." Rossi and Hotch join the others in the room. The conversation shifts from reckless drinking to the cases they are supposed to be consulting on. "I'd say, sadist."

"Profiler JJ always comes through," Y/n says smiling lightly. The blonde chuckles lightly. "I mean it profiles relatively simple... This all the cops have?"

"Yes," Hotch answers her, "I think what we have so far is all that we'll be able to give them based on the files they sent." They all nod lightly. Handing the files over to Penelope as they move to the next one. After six or seven more cases the attention starts to shift. Small conversations breaking out around the table. Y/n tries her best to focus but the words were all blurring together.

"So are the girls' night plans always this dangerous?" Spencer asks her. Clearly more curious than he's trying to let on.

"You worried about me?" Y/n teases lightly.

"Well yeah," Spencer says, "I'm worried about all of you... I mean it's really risky going out like that- not that I'm saying you guys can't take care of yourselves but- you know what we see. The statistics show how dangerous it is."

"I understand what you're saying but we watch out for each other," Y/n assures him, "and besides with you babysitting us we will have a knight in shining armor to save us if it goes too far."

"You don't think it'll look weird with me watching a group of girls?" Spencer asks.

"You're right," Y/n says, "we should ask Morgan if he wants to go."

"Go where?" Morgan says looking from his conversation with Hotch.

"To this new club," Y/n tells him, "tonight with the girls and Spencer."

"Spencer?" Morgan asks clearly shocked at the addition of the younger man.

"Don't be so surprised," Emily says, "he offered to make sure us ladies got home alright." Morgan nods lightly.

"Yeah and you can make him feel a little less left out," Y/n offers, "make it seem less like he's babysitting... Rossi, Hotch if you want to come as well we can make it a team thing."

"If it's a team thing then I want everyone to forget what happens when we leave this office," Penelope says, "whatever happens when we drink stays in the safety of the club."

"Jack has a sleepover," Hotch tells them, "maybe another time." They all look to Rossi. The older man chuckles.

"I think my clubbing days are past me," Rossi tells them, "plus its poker night."

"Lame," Emily teases lightly, "Morgan will you at least come?"

"Of course," Morgan says, "I don't wanna leave our boy genius all alone." Y/n looks back to Spencer and smiles lightly. Trying to get back to her work. The boy keeps his eyes on her. She looks up carefully. He smiles to deflect the fact he's been staring at her.

"That necklace looks really nice on you," Spencer tells her. She smirks lightly.

"Thanks," Y/n says, "but your hands would look nicer." The words leave her mouth before she can process what she said. She freezes at once as the table looks around in slight amusement and shock at what just happened. Y/n's eyes widen in horror. Rossi laughs lightly.

"At least let him take you out on a date first," Rossi jokes. Y/n looks up to Spencer who's still frozen. His mouth slightly open as if all words are suddenly lost to him. Morgan just laughs loudly at the situation. Y/n can feel her face go red. She moves covering her mouth lightly.

"Did she really?" Penelope starts.

"Oh she did," Emily says in pure amusement.

Y/n closes the file and moves to stand up.

"I'm gonna walk out the door," She says slowly, "and when I walk back in here we can pretend that it never happened."

"Please," Hotch says. She nods quickly. Walking out the door. She takes a lap around the BAU in an attempt to work through the crippling embarrassment this situation is going to bring her for the next forty years. She can already tell she's gonna see this in her nightmares.

Back at the table, Spencer is still frozen.

"She broke him," Emily chuckles as JJ waves her hand in front of Spencer's eyes. He blinks quickly. He looks over the others.

"Did that actually just happen?" Spencer asks them finally. They nod lightly. His face is bright red. Suddenly that big brain of his is nothing more than a peanut. When Y/n steps back into the room he's still in slight shock. She shuffles nervously back into her seat beside Spencer. Making a point to not make eye contact with anyone.

"I'm never going to live that down am I?" She whispers over to Penelope. The blond chuckles awkwardly.

"Oh no honey," Penelope says, "probably note."

"Oh goddammit," Y/n says softly. She moves the file lifting it to cover her face.

Meanwhile, in Spencer's big brain he's trying to process that the girl he's had a crush on for years said that his hands would look good around her neck. He tries to explain it in any way that makes sense but he's out of luck there. All he can think is what just happened?

Y/n's thankful when Hotch dismisses them back to their desks to work on their reports. She's suddenly very grateful for having the desk furthest away from Spencer. She can't even begin to think about what the hell she'd say to him to clear all this up. And Spencer and Emily laughing lightly don't help at all. She can just imagine all the things he's saying. Not to mention him avoiding her eyes at all cost.

Her face is still bright red when she shuffles into the elevator to head home later. However, life is forever cruel. Instead of giving her an empty elevator to escape to Hotch and Emily jump in beside her. She chuckles nervously.

"I'm not going to say anything," Hotch tells her, "just- try not to say anything like that while we're trying to work."

"Right," Y/n says softly.

"Where did that even come from?" Emily asks leaning forward to get a look at the girl. Y/n chuckles nervously.

"You're gonna have to get me drunk before I answer that," Y/n says carefully, "mostly because that's the only way you're gonna get me to talk about what is probably one of the top ten most embarrassing things that I've ever done." Emily chuckles lightly.

"Well, then the first round is on me."

When she meets back up with Emily the other girl is pretty much shoving a drink into her hand. Y/n takes it without a word. Knocking back the shot eagerly at the thought the others would be meeting them soon. More so that she's going to have to see Spencer... Considering she invited him.

"Oh, you do look hot!" Penelope exclaims as she and the others move to join the two girls. Penelope engulfs Y/n into a hug. Clearly excited to see her outside of the work setting. "Oh and look at you, Emily!" As Y/n's eyes settle on Spencer she starts to panic.

"I'm gonna go get our first round," Y/n says planning her escape route in her mind. Before the others can say anything she's rushing off to the bar. She orders the drinks quickly. Trying to focus on the bartender's movements.

"Hey," A soft voice says. She turns to look at Spencer. She turns back to the bar immediately. Spencer looks at her slightly confused. "You shouldn't walk off alone it's dangerous." The bartender sets the tray down. She takes it eagerly.

"You could see me from the table," Y/n says trying her best to not look at the boy. He follows her carefully as she hurries through the crowd back to the table. She sets the drinks down at once. "To the BAU!" The others grab the shots eagerly. She takes hers knocking it back quickly. Spencer looks over her carefully.

"Oh, I love this song!" Penelope says as she drags Y/n off to the dance floor. Emily follows. The second they get to the floor y/n tries not to focus on the awkwardness. Instead pushing her attention onto dancing with her friends.

"So?" Emily asks, "where did that come from?"

"Deep in my subconscious," Y/n answers, "you know I've always had a thing for Reid but- I can't believe I said that out loud!"

"I thought I was dreaming!" Emily chuckles as she moves her hips to the beat, "but Hotch's face- that was real."

"So was Spencer's heart attack!" Y/n adds, "did you see him? I thought he was going into shock!"

"I think he did," Emily says over the music. The two chuckle lightly. Emily looks over to the boy. Elbowing Y/n to look as well. They see him drinking out of a water bottle as he looks over the crowd carefully. Morgan talking to him about something that seemed serious. Spencer looks like he's turning red again.

"He looks good tonight," Y/n says to Emily, "the whole sweater and tie combo." Y/n bites her lip lightly. Emily chuckles.

"Maybe you can have his hands as a necklace then?" Emily teases. Y/n scoffs lightly. "Go talk to him- now."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," Emily says, "and you trust me with your life." Y/n sighs lightly. "Come on." She doesn't get a chance to argue. Emily yanks the girl along the dance floor before practically shoving her into the booth. Then Emily looks to Morgan. "Let's get another round." The two are gone before Y/n has a chance to process her thoughts. Spencer smiles lightly.

"Hey," He says softly.

"Hey," Y/n says, "how's the- weather?"

"Fine," Spencer says, "about earlier-"

"I know over the line," Y/n starts.

"You think about that often?" He asks. Y/n's eyes widen at his words. Layers of confidence and the slight smirk on his face make her wonder if she blackout and this was a dream.

"Uh- well I," She mumbles lightly. Spencer leans over to her ear.

"Cause we can make it happen," Spencer whispers. Y/n steps back at once. Spencer looks at her carefully. "Shit Morgan said the wouldn't sound creepy. I'm sorry- I just was trying to be flirty." Y/n looks at him carefully. As if she's deciding him if he's real or not.

"Wait so you don't think I'm a freak?" Y/n asks him carefully.

"No no- I was just kinda taken back," Spencer admits, "I mean I'm not exactly used to hearing that." Y/n chuckles lightly. "But you know- we could?"

"Hmm- I don't think they'd notice if we left," Y/n chuckles lightly. Spencer bites his lip lightly.

"Well if you don't think they'd notice," Spencer says. Y/n chuckles grabbing his home to pull him along the bar to get to his car.

They absolutely noticed.

[mirkosintern]

Crawlin’ back to you

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut with a lil angst and fluff if you squint

notes: reader is a member of the lov, set in the meta liberation army arc (before the war!), possessive dabi, wowee this is my first work!! I never expected myself to be able to write a piece but here we are ehehe this was inspired by a certain tiktok actually. U may have already noticed but the title is from the song do I wanna know? by the arctic monkeys<3

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, cum play, dubcon-ish?, toxic relationship, degradation, vulgar language, alcohol

word count: 3k

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That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day Crawlin’ back to you Ever thought of callin’ when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy bein’ yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

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Dabi wasn’t one to do feelings. He’s screwed numerous women, but they were nothing more than some toys to fulfill his sexual needs. Neither did he want to have feelings, nor did he need to. Afterall, his side hoes who begged to stay with him even after all the degradation he’s given them disgusted him the most. He would snicker at their pathetic attempts and cut them off ruthlessly.

However, you were an only exception.

No, he did not have feelings for you, he swears he never did and never will. But you were different from his other disposable sluts--he kept you around. He didn’t ghost you, instead, he kept coming back. It is only because you’re a member of the lov as well, he thinks. You are easy to access since you’re always around the lov base, and he doesn’t even have to worry about getting caught by civilians or stupid bitches who suddenly decide to turn him into the police. You guys were practically co-workers with benefits, fuck buddies where the “buddies” part is questionable.

Dabi didn’t mind that he made an exception for you until that night. That very night where you sleepily decided to crawl into his arms after a rough round and whispered him how you loved the rough texture of his skin against yours. That very night where you pressed delicate kisses beneath his jaw. The moment of intimacy—making his heart pound and warmth spread beneath his cold skin—was threatening. You were threatening.

That’s where he cut you off completely. He did not knock on your bedroom door located in the lov base anymore. He stopped sending those “you up?” texts at 3am. He didn’t even lock eyes with you or talk to you anymore.

It feels as if something heavy dropped inside you, squashing your heart to the point where it’s painful. You try your best to ignore the pang in your chest and remind yourself that you guys were nothing more than co-workers with benefits. However, the enduring heartburn only functions to make you realize how attached you were to him. He’s Dabi, the biggest scumbag you will ever meet, what did you expect? What were you thinking? It should be no surprise this happened, right? But having to encounter his stupidly handsome face every day was not doing any help. You are a girl with dignity, you tell yourself, trying your best to ignore his strong scent of campfire and cologne drowning you every time you guys are in the same room.

The pain is suffocating you for weeks, and you finally decide to completely get over him. The night Dabi brings a bimbo to his room and fucks her loud enough for everyone in the lov to hear—for you to hear—you’re done with everything. You step outside, get drunk, do anything to numbify the pain the raven-haired guy has caused you, and even meet a nice-looking guy who seems to be interested in you.

You are doing good without Dabi.

You don’t need Dabi anymore.

You are not letting him get to your head.

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A party.

League of villains is all about privacy, but they also started having some fun after uniting with the meta liberation army. Now they had sufficient money, people and place to throw parties every now and then without the danger of getting caught by civilians. Afterall, a number of heroes were in their side as well.

“Not gonna lie, you guys do know how to host parties.” Keigo smirks, picking up a glass of bourbon whiskey. “It’s fuckin’ lame,” Dabi answers as he downs a glass of liquor.

“So, what happened with y/n?” Keigo throws a suggestive smile.

“The hell you mean what happened with her?” Dabi frowns.

“Y’know, didn’t you guys used to be a thing or something?”

“Nah, she was an occasional fuck and that’s it.”

“Oh really? The Dabi I know never fucks a same bitch twice though. I thought she was something special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah, thought maybe you actually wanted her.”

A smug grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Never even liked her.”

“Have you seen her and her new boyfriend?”

The smile is quick to vanish from his face after hearing the word boyfriend. Dabi’s eyes widen, immediately glaring at Keigo. Before he could say anything, Keigo tilts his chin to point something.

“There they are.”

Dabi turns his head only to find you clinging onto some guy’s arm. Your cheeks are flushed –a pretty, pink glow on your face—as you bat your eyelashes at the guy. Bubbly giggles escape from your lips while you stare at him through half-lidded eyes. The guy’s arm is secured around your waists, pulling you closer to him.

Dabi sees red.

His entire body freezes as his grip around the liquor glass tighten. Dabi doesn’t say anything for a moment, but there is no way Keigo wouldn’t pick up how his cerulean eyes are flaming at the sight. “Well, I thought you knew.” Keigo pats Dabi’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t matter anyways right? You never liked her.”

“…Right.” Dabi takes another sip from the liquor, his eyes still fixed to you.

Keigo’s words are true; at least they are supposed to be true. Dabi didn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t do romance. No feelings were ever involved with any of the women he’s slept with, and he made sure of it. It was so clear for Dabi without a question.

But why is it unable for him to erase the sight of you with some guy as he forces himself to sleep that night? Why are your sweet giggles echoing his head? Why can’t he get rid of the thought of you in that tight, black dress that perfectly complements the curves of your body? Why is the moment where the guy places his hand on your inner thigh replaying in his head? Why are thoughts of you messing with his mind?

“Fucking hell.”

Dabi gets up. This was fucking annoying. You were truly fucking annoying.

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You tilt your head to check the glowing digits of your digital clock on the nightstand. 2:15am. It’s late, and you haven’t even taken off the dress you wore to the party. You are too tired both physically and emotionally. You’ve done quite a decent job in entertaining the man who’s accompanied you through the whole party, but it was truly an energy-consuming task. You and him walked around as if you guys were the happiest couple in the party; but the truth is that you guys aren’t even properly dating yet. Solely because you have constantly been refusing to properly answer him asking you to be his girlfriend. It’s not that he’s bad looking or anything, but the idea of being with him just doesn’t sit right with you. Ever since you’ve met him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you without asking you anything about consent. You always had to pull his hand away with an uncomfortable smile, yet he never took a hint. However, when a dating rumor about you and him started and spread quickly, you didn’t try to correct anything. Maybe it was because you wanted to pull out a reaction from a certain villain. Maybe your unusual actions at today’s party; clinging onto the guy and laughing at every single word he spoke; was to make Dabi witness how happy you were.

 Truthfully, you were dying inside.

 What was even worse was that none of your attempts seemed to bring an ounce of reaction from Dabi. When have you become so pathetic and desperate? You feel tears welling up in your eyes, hot and burning, but you don’t want to cry. Not for an asshole like him. You take out your phone, find the guy’s name, and text him that you don’t want to see him anymore. You feel a little guilty, thinking that you may have used him to provoke something from Dabi, but your thoughts are too worn out for you to comprehend anything. You flop onto your bed and bury your face in your pillow. You huff out a deep sigh, and the soft texture of your cotton pillow feels warm on your cheeks. In all honesty, you were thinking about Dabi the whole time you were at the party. Whenever the guy’s hand creeped up your thighs or gripped on your ass, you imagined it was Dabi’s, trying your hardest to feel something from the contact.

 You weren’t over Dabi. You never were. Realization hurts, leaving a sour feeling in your mouth.

 Your body shoots up at the sudden, loud slamming sound emerged from your door. Your teary eyes widen at the lean man slamming the door shut. “Dabi?” You ask, not believing your eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” Without an answer, Dabi’s one hand reaches for your throat as his other hand grips your wrist. His large body is towering over you, and you feel your bed shift as he dips one knee in the mattress. His sapphire eyes pierce through your soul, and you can feel his raging anger just from looking at him.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

“Dabi, what are you-“

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, pulling you in for a heated kiss. Your lips open reflexively, enabling him to deepen the kiss. The kiss is aggressive, and he doesn’t know whether it is because of his anger or his pent-up desires towards you that he has been suppressing. The kiss gets sloppier over time, hot and wet with saliva and tongue. He lets go of the grip on your wrist and starts tracing your inner thigh with his thumb, and you let out a soft moan. You finally pull away from the kiss to catch your breath, but he doesn’t cease to caress your thigh. Instead, he lowers himself to your ear. “You seem to really love thigh touches, don’t you?” His low voice and hot breath brushing the shell of your ear sends chills down your spine.

“Huh?”

“I always knew you were a slut, but never knew you were this much of a whore. You would bend over any guy who offers you some touches, right?”

Tears swell in your eyes again at his vile words, but it’s hard to talk when his knuckles are repeatedly brushing your clit.

“I’m… not a slut…nngh.” Suppressed moans escape your lips.

“Yeah? Why are you making those sounds then?”

“Dabi…”

He yanks your dress up and dips two fingers inside your lace panties, making you let out a weak yelp. Dabi raises his brows with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, so she indeed is a slut huh? You get this fucking wet from a kiss?”

His two digits start pumping inside you, and you grip on his white shirt at the sudden sensation. Your gasps and moans get louder, and you suddenly feel his wet lips against your neck. Dabi sucks hard, making sure to leave dark purple marks from your jaw to your neck and shoulder, as he repeats the step of curling his fingers and pulling them inside and out your hole. “Dabi…too fast.” You whine out. “Yeah?” A sadistic grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Be a good slut and take what I give you.” His thumb reaches for your clit, making your legs shiver.

“Nngh…stop, I’m gonna… Dabi I’m gonna cum.”

“Stop? You want me to stop?”

“No!”

“Do you deserve it though?” he slows his pace while teasing your clit. “Beg.”

It’s humiliating, really—but do you have any other choice when you are this close?

“Please, Dabi… I’ll be your good slut. Please let me cum!” Your desperate cries have him pumping his fingers fast again, and soon you’re seeing white. Hot drops of release coat Dabi’s fingers as he pulls out.

“Say ah.”

“A-ah.”

You obey, and Dabi sticks his digits inside your mouth. Your mouth wraps around them immediately, sucking as if it’s a pacifier. “Good girl,” Dabi says as he pats your head, and it makes your stomach swoop with sick pride.

The bulge in his pants is becoming painful, and he contemplates on fucking your mouth. But he’s too impatient; He feels the need to abuse your cunt right now. He wants to hear your screams and cries as he proves who you belong to.

“Take that off.” Dabi gestures at your dress, and you start undressing as he demands. Dabi pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, causing his cock to spring out. It’s so pretty, you think, and you can’t help but admire his red tip, glistening with precum. He pumps his length a few times and lines it up with your entrance. You inhale a sharp gasp as you feel his whole length inside you. It feels so full; it feels as if he’s gonna split you in half if he starts moving.

“Ah, too big.”

“I know.” Dabi looks down on you. “Take it like a little slut you are.”

Before you could even talk back, he is moving inside you. Your moans blend with the noise of the bed creaking; a perfectly harmonized orchestra to Dabi’s ears.

You knew Dabi wasn’t one to prep you or go slow, but you feel like he’s going way rougher than usual. His wild thrusts have your head lolling backwards, and Dabi does not miss the chance to take a hard bite on your neck. You scream out of both pain and pleasure, and you feel two hot streams of tears on your flushed cheeks.

“Aww, she’s crying.” Dabi says in a mocking tone. “Bet you love the pain.”

Humiliation fills your chest and you turn your head away, but Dabi quickly grabs your chin with one hand, forcing you to directly face him.

“Who’s the one making you feel this full?” he asks.

“Y-you.”

“Did he ever make you feel this way?”

Wait, he? Who does he mean by he? Your alleged boyfriend? Could it be possible that Dabi was doing this out of jealousy? You try to comprehend, but it’s impossible for you to think clearly, not when Dabi is fucking you stupid. “No!” You shout.

Dabi’s free hand reaches for your clit and starts rubbing circles. “Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You…” You try to answer, but he suddenly lifts up your lower body and slams into your cervix in the right angle. It has you moaning even louder, your insides spasming around his cock.

“I can’t hear you.” He smirks sadistically.

“You, Dabi, it belongs to you! I belong to you!” You’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, making his cock twitch. “That’s right. You are all for me, all for me to use. Just a pathetic little slut for my cock.” A satisfactory grin appears on Dabi’s face.

Dabi lowers his body down and grunts directly into your ear as he thrusts even faster. The sound of his skin slamming into yours is so erotic, and you can feel how close you are.

“You wanna cum huh?” His words have you nodding frantically, babbling incoherent words. Yes Dabi—wanna cum so bad—wanna be yours—wanna be your good girl—please, dabi.

“Then do it. Make a mess on my cock.”

“Nngh, Dabi!” You scream out his name as euphoria washes down your body. His release follows you soon enough, painting your walls white. You feel warmth filling your belly while his groans echo in your ear. You’re still sobbing and panting after he pulls out, without any energy left to move. As your blurry vision starts getting clearer, you feel his warm skin and the sting of his cold staples against your back. His long arms wrap around your oversensitive body, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re messing with my head.” Dabi rests his forehead on the back of your shoulder.

“Huh?”

You’re confused, but Dabi doesn’t elaborate. His ego doesn’t let him do such thing.

“When you said you belonged to me, did you mean it?”

You bite your lower lip, not knowing how to respond to his sudden question. Millions of unspoken words and feelings are hanging in the back of your throat, creating a huge lump. You swallow them all and spit out a question instead. “Do you want me to belong to you?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, butterflies fluttering inside your chest. “Be mine.” His low voice vibrates against your soft skin. Your heart melts at his words, and you cannot stop your feelings from overspilling anymore. At that moment you both realize; you and Dabi were meant to crawl back to each other, no matter how hard you both try and struggle.

“I’m yours.” You smile, “I’m all yours.”

[forcebewitht]

Maybe The True Poor Unfortunate Soul...Was Me Before I Had You (Aftermath Overblot!Azul Ashengrotto X Reader) 

It all happened too fast. One moment, Azul was going on a rampage and stealing the prized possessions of other students with his Unique Magic, and the next, he was Overblotting- and then kissing you? It was all rather sudden, to say the least. Azul's tentacles remained rather possessively wrapped around your waist after his lips had floated off yours. His eyes were wide and wild, a mad grin now tugging at his lips as he gazed at your expression. Some grunts from your previously unconscious friends were soon heard as they began to stir awake once more. Your friends were now rising back to their feet and glaring at Azul, preparing their magic pens for another assault. Azul soon locked eyes with Jade and Floyd after briefly tearing his piercing gaze from yours. He began to reach out with a hand to his childhood friends, his grin only extending further. "Let's make a deal, my friends...come on….make a deal with me…" Floyd was the first to speak up, now taking a step closer to Azul. "Ummmmm, normally, I'd be tttoootttaaaallllyyyy okay with a deal. But right now? Not a chance!" Jade gave an affirmative nod, now stepping up beside his twin. "I agree!" Leona glanced over to a nearby barnacle attached to a rock. The gazes of the lion prince and Ruggie met, the pair now beginning to gather them into a pile. The Savanaclaw duo began to smirk, Leona sharply whistling to gain Azul's attention. "Oy, calamari. Put the dumb Herbivore down, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Leona and Ruggie began to pelt Azul with the barnacles. You had to shield your head with a hand, one of Azul's tentacles assisting. However, one soon made bare contact with the male's forehead. He grunts out in pain and utter shock, now allowing his tentacles to unfurl from your form. 

You soon drifted back down to the ground, now making your way over to your group. Ruggie and Leona shared a chuckle and a high-five. "Shishishishi~.....that'll show him!" With Azul distracted from the barnacles and your retreat, Floyd and Jade move in with their own attacks in an attempt to calm Azul down. Azul's tentacles lashed out in an attempt to subdue the gang again, to no avail this time. Given how effective it seemed to be, Ruggie and Leona went right back to chucking barnacles at Azul once more and mocking him all the while. You couldn't help but to shake your head a bit at the antics. It didn't take too long for Azul to be overwhelmed. Now, the male allowed a hand to trail to his chest, gripping it tightly. He heaved out a breath, his eyes looking deeply pained. Already, you could see those odd sparkles emanating from the very heart of the octopus as you had with Riddle and Leona prior. "Whyyy….why….why does everyone bully me…? Because I'm just a stupid….clumsy octopus? I….just wanted to be strong and show them all that they're wrong…I-i...I just..." Your eyes widened as you glanced behind you. Leona was the only one who fully met your gaze. An encouraging nod from the prince was all you needed. You swam over to Azul, now slightly bending your knees to get to Azul's now rather shrunken level upon the ocean floor. Azul had tears streaming down his cheeks, a few light sniffs being heard. You extend your hand to the male, casting a shadow over Azul. The octopus allowed his head to tilt up, a light from up above lighting up your features. You looked beautiful…like a stunning little mermaid-like angel…Although it took Azul a moment, he soon wiped away a tear with a tentacle. His hand lightly shook as it reached out and soon interlocked with your own. You lower yourself down to the male's level, now bringing your arms around him in a hug. Azul's body shook as he gripped you tightly, the tears now flowing as his sobs increased. A bright light began to shine over the both of you, your friends having to shield their eyes from the massive glare. And just like with Leona and Riddle before, your vision soon began to turn as white as the light around you and Azul…

Your vision slowly began to return as you found yourself being surrounded by memories of a younger Azul. You could soon hear Azul's voice echoing around you as scenes from his past played out. "I was only ever meant to be inside an octopus pot." You turned your head to a memory directly in front of you. Some mer-children seemed to be teasing Azul and calling him names for being an 'ink barfer'....you also couldn't help but notice that Azul was the only non-mer-child in the room...your lips thinned into a line at the names. You couldn't stop your heart from clenching at one of the children mentioning Azul's 'creepy legs'. It clenched even further once you saw the baby version of Azul, rather tiny and a bit chubby, crying at the remarks. "Unlike other merfolk, I had legs covered in suction cups. I was an introverted child who could never speak his mind…no good at school or sports, I was left all alone." You turned your head to stare at Azul, who was now standing directly beside you and watching right along. His gaze was pained yet cold and relaxed as he went on. "...A dumb...clumsy octopus." Your head turned back to bear witness to even more accounts of Azul being bullied. Azul had placed his hands upon his hips at the mention of him being 'lame' for not being able to play tag as easily as the others. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, his tone taking on a slight growl. "...Ohh, really? Then why don't you just leave me be and go run around playing your pointless games!" Azul seemed to take a moment to inhale, then went on once more. "...I lack the tail to swim quickly. But, instead, I have 10 arms and legs that I can move at will. That means that I have five times the ability to write than those two armed fools. I can spit out the ink needed to write spells at any time." Azul's voice began to increase in volume as his rage flared. "Just you wait. Someday, I'll put you insolent mers in YOUR PLACE!" Your head soon whipped back to watch as you heard a familiar yet slightly higher pitched pair of voices. It was the Tweels. Just from seeing his friends appear, Azul seemed to relax a little more beside you. Floyd swam up to Azul first, Jade following. Their paired gazes were curious, and maybe even a little concerned. "Heeeyyyyy, little octo~ why are you holed up in there?" The child Azul seemed to curl up into a little ball even further, yet partially turned his head to the twins. "Go away….shut up and leave me alone…" Jade swam a bit closer, now glancing around in wonder at what Azul was surrounded with. "Wow...amazing! All those shells are covered in spells and curses. Magic to shapeshift, magic to steal someone's voice...Have you been using those 8 legs to write all these this whole time?" Though the child version of Azul's gaze seemed to soften lightly at Jade's words, he soon curled up protectively once more. "Don't touch them! You wanna get inked?! I'm gonna keep studying and become just as powerful as the Sea Witch! So don't get in my way! Just- go away!" Azul was allowing his tentacles to curl around his lower body in a self-hug, his eyes flared with a great passion as he turned back away from the Tweels. Floyd elbowed Jade, motioning to Azul. "Jaaaddeeeeee...that octopus kid is pretty funny!" Jade turned his head to Floyd and nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, Floyd. He is very interesting." You felt your heart melt a little bit at the warm smiles Floyd and Jade had when staring at the back of Azul. 

"I kept studying like that until several years later…" The scene began to shift to Junior High. Floyd was the first to begin to speak in this memory. "I heard that a kid in another class got sssuuuupppeerrrrr skinny and even got a girlfriend!" Jade nodded at his twin's statement. "And in exchange, his beautiful tenor tone has gone completely silent. In another class, someone with frizzy, unruly hair suddenly became a silky blonde." Floyd nodded, now chatting away in his own bit of curious excitement. "In exchange, she lost her tail that swam so fassssttt~" The Junior High version of Azul glanced up every now and then, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips. "Mmm...you don't say?" Floyd and Jade shared a look, Jade arching a brow at Azul. "And, Azul...isn't this all your doing? I can't imagine any of those airheaded fish being able to pull off such impressive spells, after all." Floyd nodded again, now leaning a bit towards Azul. "Yeeaaaahhhh, and you've been studying magic fooorreeeevvveeerrrrr!" Unable to hold back his own mischief any longer, Azul covered his mouth lightly as he erupted into snickers. "Hehehehehe...ahahahahahaha! Is that so? Aaahhhh, I can't believe I've been found out already. You two are correct, nonetheless. I finally perfected it! All I need is for someone to sign this magic contract...then I can take whatever ability I so desire from them...I call it- It's A Deal! With this, I can make them all kneel before me...everything you've ever taken pride in..its now mine!" The Azul in the memory erupted into cackles as the scene began to fade out, Jade and Floyd both smirking at each other and Azul's triumph. The Azul standing with you took a moment to adjust his glasses, his gaze lightly trailing over to meet yours. "...I haven't forgotten what happened for even a moment. Those who made fun of me. The faces of those who bullied me. I bid my time, closely observing them from a distance. Their weaknesses, their desires….I know it all! Press on their weak points and I can take their little fast tail. If I know what's bothering them, I can take their beautiful singing voice." Azul soon fully turned to face you, his eyes growing rather crazed once more. "With those golden contracts, I am unbeatable! I am no longer the dumb, clumsy octopus left all alone!" A sense of calming seemed to wash over Azul as his eyes flickered up and down your form in silence. "...Everything is under my control with this power. All those who ever made fun of me...will now kneel before me." A rather warm, sweet smile graced your lips. You calmly stepped towards Azul, whose eyes lightly widened at the sight of you growing nearer. You soon brought your arms around him once again, removing the fedora from his head to pat him soothingly. Azul allowed his eyes to flutter shut at the sensations, and both of your visions soon faded to black as you remained in each other's arms…

"Aaaazzzzzuuuuulllll, Shrimmmmmmmpppppyyyyyyy~" You soon heard Floyd's voice directly above you as Azul startled awake beside you. Your eyes flutter open as both you and Azul sit up, now sparing a glance down to your still interlocked hands. A swift blush seemed to overtake Azul's features at the gesture, already gently removing his hand from yours. Jade and Floyd both began to smile at Azul and tell him just how happy they were that he was okay. Your own friends, along with Ruggie and Leona, checked you over. Floyd began to tease Azul as to what he had said and done, to which Azul seemed rather worn out and confused. You and Jack soon began to tell Azul just how intelligent he was for his notes. After a few more remarks from the others, a geek out from Azul over his old elementary photo, and Grim devouring another odd black stone that had appeared after Azul's Overblot, you and your group soon went your separate ways. 

A few days later, you all met back up again to head back to the museum to see the sights and return the photo you had stolen for the deal. Floyd and Jade began to rattle on about dinglehoppers amongst other things. Azul took the photo in his hands, now turning the corner to return it. You soon follow, allowing your hands to tuck behind your back. The octopus soon stopped, turning his head to face you. "Ah….[Y/n]. First of all, may I formally apologize for my….rather odd outburst. And secondly, there is no need to doubt me….I will properly return it." Azul placed the photo back onto the wall. He placed a finger onto the section where he had used to be on it, now letting said finger slowly drag down the painting. "....I thought that if I could erase all of the photos from my past...my time spent being bullied as a 'dumb, clumsy octopus' would fade along with them. The Sea Witch never hid her dark past but faced it and worked to overwrite her reputation. I kept saying that I wanted to be like her, but...in the end, I couldn't even accept who I was and tried to act like it never happened." Soon, you smiled, tilting your head to the side at Azul. You gently took one of his hands in yours, now gazing into his eyes. "You have a strength greater than any magic. I honestly think you're pretty great without having to steal from others! We cannot change the past, Azul. We cannot change the harsh words that those children pelted you with in your youth. But...we learn to keep our heads and move on. And look at you! You do it in spades! You're intelligent, savvy, have a literal business that you're running within the school...you don't have to steal anything to be a great person. You just keep being who you are." Azul seemed taken aback by your sweet words. His eyes began to water, a swallow being seen that the male took in. A soft, relieved smile soon graced the lips of the octopus as he held your gaze. It was the most genuine you had seen him yet. "...There is no need for you to flatter me, dear. I...only wanted to get back at those who had made fun of me for so long." You tilted your head to the side as an eyebrow perked up. "Can no one say anything without you thinking it's some sort of trick? Hmmm. Anyways, I thought you were pretty cute in that form, anyways." Azul choked, his eyes widening. A blush had taken over his face again, to which he raised his hand and mockingly adjusted his glasses in the hopes of hiding it. "C-c-cute?" 

You couldn't help but giggle at Azul's reaction. Azul's lightly coughed into his arm. "Right. I….must admit, [Y/n]. You are certainly more sly than I took you for originally. Though I am not pleased with the result, that plan with Leona and Ruggie was a work of raw genius. I am almost a bit peeved that I did not come up with it myself." Your eyes roll as you meet Azul's gaze once more. "Yeah, and I didn't need to steal anyone's Unique Magic to do it. Just grab some pots and pans and start banging them while he's trying to sleep- and you're set." You and Azul began to laugh in unison at the image, Azul nodding his head. "Mmmm...mental note, swiftly close doors when you spot [Y/n] with a pot or some pans." You jokingly raise your free hand and begin to swish it in the water to illustrate your point. That got Azul cracking up all over again. "Mmm Mmm Mmm. Keep that up, [Y/n], and I may have to kiss you for such underhanded methods." "You already did." Azul chuckled and hummed, allowing a finger to tap at his chin. His free hand seized you by the waist, now pulling you towards him. His gaze was locked onto you below him with a devilish smirk now tugging at his lips. "Mind if I jog my memory for a moment, Angelfish~" Your lips met, Azul sweeping his opposite hand that held you over your hair to brush it out of the way. Some baby seahorses suddenly swam into the museum and swam in a circular motion around the two of you, sweeping both your hair and clothes up around you. Azul's lips soon floated off yours as he met your gaze once more. Right as he was about to speak, a wolf whistle was heard from behind the two of you. "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH SNNNAAAAAPPPPP, AHAHAHAHAHA! AZUL AND SHRIMMMPPPPYYYY SWWWIIIIMMMIIINNNGGG INNN THE SEEEAAAAA~" Azul's face erupted into a blush as he released a startled grunt at Floyd, who was now making hearts with his hands. Jade soon chuckled and swam up beside him to finish the line. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Heheheh~" Azul was quick to facepalm and now regrab his fedora, placing it upon his head to cover his blush. He released you and set you upright, clearing his throat. He muttered under his breath. "...They will never let me live that down." You giggled once more. Soon, you were called over by Ace and Grim, who were now all marveling at some sort of sea dragon. As you swam off, Azul puffed out a breath and watched you swim off, a warm smile gracing his lips. "...Maybe I was the true, poor unfortunate soul all along...before I met you." 

((Hey Hey Hey, everybody! The second part to the Overblot!Azul x Reader is now here! I hope you all enjoyed! Next up is the part two for Leona, so stay tuned and stay awesome~ 💖🌹

[johnsbleu]

Hii, hope you're having a good day! I'm just dropping some numbers for the questions thing: 3,4 and 9💞

hi! i'm hope you're doing well!

Ooooh this is gonna be fun and hard lmao

3: favorite line of narration? this is so hard!!! hmh is genuinely so freaking long and i obviously remember stuff from way back but i think i'll go with someone more recent and that was in the chapter where reader has her baby blues and we shift to john's POV (chapter 131)

Seeing her face light up, that dimple deepen in her cheek when she grins at me, hearing her sweet laugh, it all ignites something deep inside of me and gives me life like nothing ever has before. 

i just love how much he loves her and finally getting to be in his head and see the way he feels about her was something i wanted to do for a while, and i had so much fun writing it. the whole part just brings tears to my eyes (ik that's lame) i just love how much he loves her and i love that he's so proud to be her husband and how they've helped each other grow as people

4. favorite line of dialogue? i was actually thinking about this the other day, like if hmh was a romance novel what would be the quote that everyone screamed over or something, you know? and honestly idk. the one that always sticks out to me is from chapter 49 (lmaoooo so long ago) and it's after jimmy and tess get married. tess is eating cereal in their kitchen and john and reader have just come inside from having sex in his car lmao. tess notices john's scars bc he's shirtless and asks where he got them and he points to reader and says "ask my map" idk why i just love that line. i think it goes to show how honest he is with her and how they've stayed up late and talked about each scar and where he got them. it's just an intimate thing. he's so vulnerable with reader and so open with her. he never lies about his past (yes he leaves out details every now and then) but he does tell her. there are plenty of scars that he has that she doesn't know anything about but he'll tell her eventually (aka when jw4 comes out and we see how he gets them and i can write about it lmaooo) i probably have some other lines of dialogue that i love but i'm having a hard time focusing lmao

9. were there any alternate versions of this fic? Yes! i actually wrote one where they met because jimmy and tess were already dating. jimmy was going to set them up on a double date and they were going to meet at jimmy's apartment. john was going to drive her home (she was still going to live across the street i believe or live in an apartment in oyster bay) and then ask her out on a one on one date. i was originally going to end hmh like after john met reader's mom for christmas. i was gonna have reader get taken by someone from john's past, then i was like nah i feel like that's been done before. and when i started writing hmh i didn't want them to have kids but now i can't imagine them without ronan. there was also another one where she was gonna meet john at the bookshop and immediately know who he was but i knew i wanted her to not know who john was bc she's not from new york. but in the end i love how hmh started!

[dadsbongos]

burn me to the ground

(1)gentle lover (2)burn me to the ground Movie/Game/Show: Thor: Ragnarok Dynamic: Loki Laufeyson/Reader Warnings: ragnarok spoilers?, passing description of you as toned/muscular cuz loki with gf who could crush him >>>, i give more time gap to thor's arrival cuz :), fem pronouns Summary: He’s never been one for such sentiment, maybe that’s why her influence is so terrifying to him. ~~~

“You wanted me to meet someone?”

“Right! Right, right, right,” the Grandmaster waves his hand in a gesture for Topaz to guide his chair through the room, “He was all mumble-y and murmur-ey and I heard your name, so I was thinking maybe you could tell me what this guy’s all about!”

Upon seeing the man in reference, your eyes widen and you nearly stumble back.

The man, however, immediately tilts his head and practically hisses out, “You.”

Well, no point in pretending to not know him now when he reacts like that. Sighing and tossing up your hands as if to show relief, you gush out an awfully whiny, “Aw, prince! Thank goodness you’re okay! I was so worried when we got separated!”

“So, how do you two know each other?” the Grandmaster’s smile is broad, if not slightly threatening, as he waggles a finger between the two people in front of him.

“I’m a sort of guard to your royal asshat.”

Loki doesn’t get the chance to speak up as the Grandmaster claps in response to you, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to know your track record here doesn’t show any signs of slacking!”

“Certainly, yes,” Loki nods curtly, not pleased at the prospect of a Midgardian - this Midgardian - having to watch over him again, “Reassuring to have her here.”

“I would be, look at her- " reaching over, the Grandmaster squeezes at your bicep, “So strong, she’s a great contender!”

“Contender…?” Loki murmurs to the woman, a brow quirked.

Smacking the prince’s arm, you shake your head before turning back to the Grandmaster, “Loki wouldn’t be a very good contender, he’s pretty frail and weak. Lame, too.”

“Aw,” wagging a finger as one would to a pestering child, the Grandmaster’s broad grin falls into a tight-lipped smile before he speaks, “Loyal guard trying to protect her prince, how sweet.”

“What can I say?” Loki notices the way you seem more on edge now, breath shakier, but you manage to mask it as light laughter, “Duties never rest.”

Nodding, the elderly man turns to Topaz, whispering in her ear before dismissing you both back to your quarters.

It’s as the door to the room shuts that Loki is greeted with the first hint of aggression he’s ever seen from you - not even in his time on Earth had he seen malice slip from you like he does now. The door slams and you wring your hands in your hair, nearly shouting as you turn to the God,

“You moron, why’d you have to go and say that? As if you know me? You could’ve gotten us killed.”

“But I do know you,” Loki held his hands up, pausing your rampant pacing, “Was I not supposed to try and find solace in the fact that I was on a new, strange planet with the one person I recognize?”

“You’re such an ass,” it’s a deflated insult, sighed out while you stomp over to the one bed in the room and slump down on it, “Just hope that nutjob believed me about you being weak.”

“Which, I believe we should have a talk about, by the way,” Loki’s brows furrow, “Why do that? I don’t need any protection nor defense, especially by the likes of you.”

“Unless you want to go as a gladiator and potentially be ripped in half by people twice your size, I would just take the label of weakling socialite and run with it. Hope you get on the Grandmaster’s good side like I have and eventually he maybe stops looking at you like a starving man to steak.”

“Haven’t quite gotten to that last bit, I imagine.”

“No, unfortunately not. It’s a little terrifying.”

It’s quiet as you rub at your aching temples and think over the situation. Loki turns and begins assessing the room - a room he hopes to not be stuck in.

“Are we to share this?”

“Probably,” yet another exhausted sigh slips from your lips, “I wouldn’t bother bringing it up to the old man, you might get vaporized.”

There’s a beat of silence before Loki chuckles, it’s forced and tight.

“Oh,” nodding, you lean back until you’re fully reclined on the bed, “you think I’m joking.”

The God’s eyes widen at that, turning to face you in alarm, “Are you not?”

Suddenly sitting up to untie your boots, you mutter, “I’m trying a slow coup. I was gonna do it on my own, but now you’re here so that’s minorly reassuring.”

“Coup?”

“Accident comes to the Grandmaster, we move up. I say we, but if you try and overthrow me for the throne, I will have to duel you. Duel at best, but at worst…”

Another pregnant silence flows through the room, Loki tilting his head, “You do realize how alarming that is when you don’t finish that sentence, right?”

“Good.”

It was an unlucky arrangement. Trapped on a trash planet, literally, with a Midgardian worm - whom he either has to share a bed with or rest on a loveseat for the nights. None of which is even mentioning the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster.

On the surface he’s light. Bubbly. Fun. And then someone drops a glass too close to his favorite new shoes and suddenly they’ve been pardoned from the land of the living and the stench of wretched toast permeates through the room.

It’s that memory that has Loki tuning out of the story of the man across from him. His hands fall to his thighs and begin rubbing away the sweat of nervousness that gathers there. The movements don’t go unseen, and the woman who assigned herself as his personal guard reaches down and takes his hand. Uncaring if the rest of the party sees as they cling to one another.

You aren’t Loki’s first choice of partnership but maybe that’s where he’d be wrong - because your grip is strong and it won’t let go unless it’s commanded. It’s comforting and reassuring and Loki can’t remember the last time someone held him like that as he breaks down. It isn’t just the hand holding at parties, it’s in the late nights when neither of you can sleep and your heads are too full of countless worries of each’s own home. It’s the way you hold him and don’t say a word of it the next day. Barely acknowledging it unless he brings it up first, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or pressured.

It’s kindness and genuinity and he thinks he wants to have you around all the time. After the Grandmaster. After Hela. Whenever and wherever that dust happens to settle, he knows he wants this comfort all the time.

Storytime comes around to Loki. His fingers curl tighter around your hand as he speaks, occasionally taking a break to sip at his neon drink when there’s a hearty whisper-shout of both your names,

“Over here!”

God of Thunder, you notice. Thor of Asgard. You two excuse yourselves from the couch of socialites to cross the room to Thor.

“Thor? You’re alive?” you begin, eyes wide.

“Of course, I’m alive, what’re you two doing? Why aren’t you stuck in a chair? Where’s your chairs?”

“We didn’t get one,” Loki shakes his head.

“Get me out,” Thor urges, still thoroughly confused over the presence of his brother and old friend.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

Nodding, Loki continues, “We’ve gotten in favor with the Grandmaster. In his higher courts.”

“Like friends but scary,” you pitch in, “We’ve been here a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

“A month?" Thor repeats in utter disbelief, "I just got here.”

“What’re you guys whispering about?” the Grandmaster himself juts into the conversation with a giggle, “Time works different around these parts. On any other world I’d be like millions of years old, but on Sakaar…” he stops and looks between the trio with a teasing grin before shaking his head, “In any case, you two know this… what’d you call yourself - Lord of Thunder…?”

“God of Thunder,” Thor corrects with a forced chuckle.

“I’ve never met this man in my life,” Loki immediately denies.

“He’s my brother.”

Rolling your eyes at the brothers, you’re quick to gesture to Loki, “Adopted.”

The Grandmaster nods, “He any kind of a fighter?”

“You take this thing out of my neck and I’ll show you.”

That’s how they find out that - at the very least, Thor’s alive. Not well, but certainly alive.

The night after that party is mostly quiet in the room. Presently, both people are getting ready for bed but inside their minds is such fueled turmoil that neither truly believes they’re getting rest that night. Upon finishing his state of dress, Loki makes his way out to the balcony.

Air on Sakaar isn’t particularly fresh or clean, nor are the stars incredibly visible with all the city lights, but it felt better out there than being trapped in a room. He’s soon joined by another body at the railing, hands barely brushing together on the roughened metal.

It’s Loki that makes the first move, slowly sliding his hand across the rail until his entwined with yours. Your fingers weave together and Loki can’t help but balance his gaze between your conjoined hands and your eyes. He remembers a time where he used to look into those eyes and see an enemy - now, he can’t imagine a time where he would’ve ever wanted to hurt someone such as you. Can't believe there was a time where he wanted to hurt you. Your care is expressed in tender touches and loyalty. In quiet moments of trust and earnest adoration. In honesty. It's that silent care that speaks the loudest.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his own thoughts, “When this whole thing is over and Sakaar is ruined and Thor will have the throne, where will you go?”

Loki falls silent at that question, he brushes a thumb over your knuckles, pursing his lips and tilting his head as he thinks over what response would fit best. Then he comes to the realization that it wouldn’t matter where he lies as long as he has comfort that lies with him. Comfort that sleeps inside the woman beside him is what he wants.

And so, he mumbles out, “Where will you want me?”

There’s a laugh pulled from you as your head shakes, “You wouldn’t want to go to Earth. Unless you’d like the Avengers up your ass.”

There’s a shared laugh as Loki relents, speaking before laying a kiss to your knuckles, “I wouldn’t be fond of that… but for you, my dear, I’d tear the universe apart.”

“That sounds like exactly why they wouldn’t want you. Sorry to say they’re not fond of universe-tearing.”

A sarcastic huff falls from the prince, “I’m charming and romantic and this is how I’m repaid?”

“However, I can’t say that’s not excellent bargaining to keep you on a leash,” you grin.

“Like a dog?”

“Well, now,” looking away, your lip is tucked between your teeth to muffle possible laughter.

Loki doesn’t follow your example, instead he studies the planes of your face. The curve of your cheek and the way your eyes are lit up by the stars and lights that flow in this city. You’re beautiful. That, he knows. And despite being trapped on Sakaar, he also knows he’s grateful to have someone like you. To have you.

Strong, both in emotional resolve and psychical capability. It’s nice to have someone who can stay level-header and offer support. It makes him want to care and provide for you as well, and that’s what scares him.

You make him want to return sentiment when all he’s cared for before was letting things burn.