#i love giselle but i think the music is whatever

[divorcedwife]

it's spring, let's watch the rite of spring together

[pupyuqi]

⭑ jealous. : yu jimin x f!reader.

— “ it’s my right to be hellish, i still get jealous. ”

🪷 warnings : no serious warnings. reader gets jealous easily. jimin green flag. half smau. reader is apart of aespa. secret relationship. “scandals.” video’s subs are fake ! reader is a bit petty. men dni. turn up volume for the video. content under cut.

word count : 1,15O words ⭑

i dont like the way he’s looking at you

karina was talking to jeno, about what? you didn’t know, you didn’t notice. what you did notice was how close jeno was to the girl—your girl.

you cleared your throat softly as you walked behind karina and wrapped your arms around her small waist, pulling her closer to you and away from him. “jimin… can we get coffee? i heard this new cafe opened near— oh, hi jeno.”

you sounded a bit more passive-aggressive than you had intended. jeno greeted you too before glancing at jimin and then at you, deciding it was probably best to leave you two alone. “i’ve got somewhere to be, talk to you later karina.”

your girlfriend nodded, giving him a small ‘bye’ before turning to look at you. “what was that for?”

“what was what for?” you answered coyly.

I'm starting to think you want him too

Am I crazy? Have I lost ya?

“yn.” she said firmly, making you let out a small whine, your grip on karina loosening as she looked at you. “sorry, i didn’t like how he was looking at you—”

“how was he looking at me?” karina interrupted, her voice dropping an octave as she brought you to a more secluded area.

“… like he wants you,” you murmured, making karina tsk. “baby… he’s just a friend—an acquaintance even. and even if, in some crazy world, he did like me—it wouldn’t matter.”

you grumbled as karina gently cupped your face, her thumb caressing your cheek. “y’know why?”

“why?” you asked softly.

“’cause i love you.”

Even though I know you love me

Can't help it

you blushed at her words, turning away as you coughed out a small ‘whatever,’ trying to sound casual, though the soft blush on your cheeks gave you away.

“don’t ‘whatever’ me,” your girlfriend said, rolling her eyes with a smile as she pressed a small kiss to your cheek.

—

“of course i saw, idiot,” you murmured to yourself.

I turn my cheer music up

And I'm puffing my chest

I'm getting red in the face

You can call me obsessed

It's not your fault that they hover

I mean no disrespect

waking up to your girlfriend’s messages made you feel shitty, really shitty. it wasn’t her fault the paparazzi were there, nor was it her fault that heeseung was also there. you knew that—but you still got jealous.

It's my right to be hellish

I still get jealous

—

“yn,” giselle called from across the room. you were with karina (as usual), your arms wrapped around her waist as you rested your head on her shoulder. “hm?” you hummed in response.

“take a picture of me,” the japanese said with playful impatience. your group had decided to go out together, since promotions for your new mini-album were finally over.

you brought your polaroid camera, thinking it complemented your outfit, and it wouldn’t hurt to take a few pictures.

you pretended to think about aeri’s request for a few seconds before saying with a small smile, “nah, i’m good.”

the oldest scoffed. “wha– what do you mean you’re good?”

“i’m good as in, no thanks. plus, i ran out of film.”

your girlfriend looked at you, her perfect lips forming a pout. “you ran out?” her tone was soft, almost whiny as she glanced at your camera, then back at you. you chuckled at her expression, placing a quick peck on her cheek before shaking your head.

“no, no, i still have film… i just don’t wanna use it on aeri,” you teased. “she’s used up enough.” karina sighed in relief before asking in a small voice, “in that case, could you take some photos of me?”

she didn’t even have to finish her sentence before you were already tweaking the settings of your camera. you knew how she liked her pictures, the vibe she went for, how the sunlight hit her skin, the angles she liked…

karina let out that gentle giggle you were obsessed with, making your knees weak. she stepped back, showing off the beautiful scenery—a gorgeous field filled with unique flowers, though none as unique as her.

you took a couple photos, smiling as she comtinued on with her childish antics, getting distracted when she was supposed to be posing—though you guess it added to the charm, her charm.

once done, she skipped back over to you as you shook the picture to help develop it faster. “can i see?” she asked like an eager child. just as you were about to show her, aeri spoke, your ears perking slightly at her voice.

“hey! you said you were out of film!” she said in a slight whine, making your two youngest members turn to look at you, curious as to what was happening.

you shrugged. the polaroid finally developed, revealing your girlfriend’s beauty. karina smiled as she reached for the picture, studying it for a few seconds before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “… i love it.”

ningning, now bouncing on her toes, wanted to see it too. “oh, that’s so cute! unnie, you look so pretty,” the youngest complimented, and minjeong agreed. aeri glanced at the photo and begrudgingly nodded. “you actually do look cute, that’s rare,” she teased.

“shut up,” jimin murmured, playfully pushing her.

“no really, unnie. you look pretty,” winter added.

'Cause you're too fuckin' beautiful

And everybody wants a taste

you gently tugged on karina’s free hand, making her look at you. she giggled before pulling you closer, her fingers intertwining with yours. “yeah, well, that’s probably because my super cool and cute girlfriend took my pictures.”

the others chuckled as you nuzzled into jimin’s shoulder. “yeah, yeah, we get it—you two are in love,” minjeong said playfully as jimin waved her hand dismissively.

That's why (That's why)

I still get jealous

—

you were lying in bed, curled up against karina, but something didn’t feel right. jimin couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. you were quiet—too quiet. “… baby?”

you let out a soft hum in response.

“you okay?” she asked, rubbing small circles on your back.

“… yeah,” you murmured, but your tone betrayed you.

“you sure?” she repeated

you stayed silent for a few more seconds before nuzzling further into her. “… was on twitter, and i saw people talking about how you and jeno look good together.”

jimin could practically hear you pouting as she pulled back slightly to look at you. her expression softened when she saw your face—your face she loved so much.

“don’t mind them, baby. they don’t know what they’re talking about,” she reassured, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “… don’t be jealous. you’re the only one i want,” she added before placing a quick kiss on your cheek, then your lips.

it was nice—you could admit that. though, you knew that no matter what, you’d still get jealous.

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — five: stay

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

masterlist | previous | next

When you walked into Lee Heeseung’s house for the second time that week, you were immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and a light whiff of cherries?

You looked over at his kitchen island, which was unsurprisingly filled with cherries. You guessed the people were making some sort of alcoholic cherry beverage.

“You made it,” Heeseung says, grinning as he slung an arm around your shoulder.

You were taken quite aback, not expecting Heeseung to do it so publicly where everybody could talk about it for the next few weeks.

“I did.” You say, and you could see Giselle and Yujin giving you a thumbs up and cheeky grin from behind Heeseung.

“Cherry?”

Your sudden boldness makes you open up your mouth, allowing Heeseung to place a cherry inside. You bite on it, then spit out the seed into your other hand.

“Seojun’s dad has multiple cherry trees in his garden so he gave it to us.” Heeseung explains.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Heeseung’s friend group make themselves comfortable around his television.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” You say, eyes looking up to meet Heeseung’s.

He glances at the couch where his friends sit, too busy and engrossed in whatever drinking game they’re doing to notice you and him.

“I’d love to.”

With that, Lee Heeseung drags you away with him upstairs, opening the door to a room at the end of the hall.

“This is my room,” he smiles. “Last time we were in yours.”

Glancing around, you could tell Heeseung was a big music fan. He had CDs all around his table, and a CD player in the corner of his desk. Posters were filled with pictures of Frank Ocean, SZA, and even Olivia Rodrigo.

Funny, you think. I’d never thought I’d live to see Lee Heeseung listening to Olivia Rodrigo.

You’d always thought girls that he played would listen to her instead, thinking about him.

“You’re pretty tonight,” Heeseung says, giving you a small smile.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

Although you and Lee Heeseung weren’t close by any means, you felt oddly comfortable around him—like his presence brought warmth and healing.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s only four words; you shouldn’t be so lost for words at it. But you are—with blushing red cheeks and shaky hands.

You don’t answer him, instead, choosing to close the gap between your mouths. They move in sync together, and for the first time, you finally know how it feels like to kiss Heeseung sober.

He tasted like coconuts, mixed with the hint of cherry from your lips earlier.

“I got a new CD player,” he says after pulling away, and you stop yourself from chasing his lips. “Wanna listen to music with me?”

And how could you say no when Heeseung looks at you so prettily with his doe eyes?

“Of course.”

Suddenly, a loud series of knocks jolts the both of you.

“Ayo Heeseung?” It’s Danielle’s voice. “Hanni said she wants to go home because the party is getting lame. You wanna come with us to Sunghoon’s house for a while?”

Heeseung looks at you, then at the door, then back at you again. You could tell he’s conflicted on whether or not he should leave you and go.

“Stay.” You say, holding his hand. You’re not too sure if he’ll actually stay—why would he choose you over his long term friends?

But when you see Heeseung stay still and give you a nod, you knew you had your answer.

You find yourself waking up hours later to the bright sunlight peaking from Heeseung’s window, an arm tightly secured around your waist.

“Morning sleepyhead,” he says, grinning.

“Morning.”

You stretch your arms out, trying to shake off the sleepiness.

“You know you speak in Japanese when you dream?”

“Do I?” You say, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Yeah. Kinda wish I knew what you were saying.” Heeseung smiles. “It’s like there is a part of you that I haven’t yet discovered.”

“I’ll teach you Japanese one day.” You say. “If you want me to.”

Heeseung nods, and the silence was enough for the both of you.

[luc1dvisual]

eat that girl for lunch - college!au giselle x reader

synopsis: your dancing on her tongue, your might be the one

pairing: aeri uchinaga x reader (use of her real name, non-idol au)

genre: wlw, 18+ (pairing is over 18), studentxstudent, delinquentxnerd

word count: 2.4k+

You were the Student Council President at School of Performing Arts in Seoul. You are loved for your kind attitude and your need to do right by others. You were in the Practical Music Department and are the top of your class, leaving many both envious and in awe by you. On the surface, you don’t seem to dislike anyone, in truth you didn’t hate anyone but one girl.

Aeri Uchinaga was also a student at the School of Performing Arts but she was very different to you in many ways. She may have also been in the same department but she was not known of her stellar grades or good attitude. She was known to be a bit of a ...player. She was known to mess around with both genders and many have started rumors that she pays girls to sleep with her and that she hurts girls for her own pleasure. Some go as far to say she even works as a sex worker on the side despite her family being loaded. 

You hated everything about Aeri. You wholeheartedly believed her to be a slut and that she would fuck anything with a pulse. Aeri disliked you for acting all stuck-up and your stupid high-pitched voice. You would sit at the main table at the centre of the gardens under the sun, next to the water fountain as you would turn and see Aeri sitting alone under a tree. Due to these rumors, Aeri didn’t have many friends and she would never speak more than 5 words in class. In truth, none of the rumors were even true, she was just very introverted and didn’t like talking to people as she didn’t know what to do or how to keep the conversation going.

It’s a normal school day and it is second break as Aeri sits under a tree with her head phones in and her eyes closed. You look over at Aeri and your usual hatred bubbles up. You can’t stand the fact a girl like her could just walk around freely without any consequences. A idea then forms inside your head and you storm over. You call out Aeri’s name a few times which get no response as the other girl’s music is on full volume. She then stomps on Aeri’s foot which makes the ravenette’s eyes shoot open and take her head phones out. “Can I help you?” she says, clearly tired.

“Why do you do the things you do? Random but I can’t help but ask” You say in your fakest tone possible. Aeri feels the uneasy air around her and she knows her answer to this question will determine the course of their conversation. “I’m sorry.. I don’t understand what you mean?” she says, clearly confused. “You don’t have to air out your sex life for all the school to hear.. that’s what I mean!” You say in the same fake tone yet your intention was clear from the start. “I don’t know what your talking about, I don’t do that in the first place.” Aeri was confused at first but now she was a bit offended. “Oh now you want to act dumb? The entire school knows that your a whore, stop lying!” You think the other girl is just playing dumb to get out of it. You knew you needed to confront her, you won the council elections so you could do whatever you wantl. Right?

Aeri knew to a certain degree about all the rumors but nobody said anything to her. It’s not as if they had the right, so who does this girl think she is talking to her this way? “Who the fuck even are you? What makes you think you have the right to talk to me like this?” She says trying to keep her cool yet clearly irritated. “_____, student council president, school’s top student” You confidently say, as if she was waiting for the question. She says the last part specifically to get on Aeri’s nerves, assuming her grades to be slipping, as everytime you saw her, she had her headphones in and was off daydreaming. “More like School’s Pain in the Ass” Aeri mutters off as she gets up, finally now noticing how short the other girl is compared to her. Your ears perked up at the jab “Pardon? Do you want to repeat that?” You said annoyed, yet knowing your position gave you the upper hand. “I said.. your a pain in the ass.. now piss off” Aeri storms off, she did not have the time for this.

You were not done, you grabbed Aeri’s arm. “You shouldn’t even be here! You should be in a whorehouse, and I’ll make sure you go right there!” you said, raising your voice a bit. Aeri wanted to lose her shit, but she acted surprisingly calm when a idea popped into her head now “Fine” she said coldly. Your face was filled with confusion as you didn’t expect it to be THAT easy “Fine? What?” she inquired. “Fine. I’ll go to a whorehouse…” the black-haired girl said. You looked at her visibly confused yet waiting for something more, there had to be something more. “…if you win a bet.” Aeri finished with a smile. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes “What are the terms?” 

You said, annoyed by how unserious the other girl was to the claims yet intrigued by what she was going to propose. “I’ll drop out and go to the red light district.. if you come first during the next exam” You genuinely thought she was joking until you saw on her face how serious she was. Aeri’s face then turned sinister “But.. if I come first, you have to open your legs for me” Your face went pale at this and considered forgetting it all together. But no.. she needed to come first and keep everyone else safe from Aeri. You nodded and quietly said “Deal” before walking away.

Days went by and whispers about such a bet swirling around the school, many wanting to make their own assumptions about such a deal. Of course as people do, they exaggerate the story or add their own silver lining that would make more people interested. A week in and when it reached your ears, the story sounded absurd and almost convinced you that you never even talked to Aeri. Obviously, it was not true but this further convinced you that you could not lose this bet. You were convinced you did not even need to study and that you would do perfectly fine, telling yourself that you were just pure talent and you did not need to overwork yourself. Instead of studying, you partied and only worked to fufill your Student President duties. Many remained excited for the next evaluation, excited to see you crumble and for Aeri to live up to her infamous reputation.

The end of year came and all dashed over to the ranking board. Your heart dropped when Aeri ended up on top and you came second. You could feel everyone staring at you, whispering in satisfaction about you not ending up on top once. You are trying to get out the crowd of girls but it’s almost suffocating. You turn your head to see Aeri with a surprised expression on her face 

You and Aeri walked into the hotel room together, tension in the air. You lost the bet by 2 points, you didn’t even realise how intelligent Aeri was until she saw the board. This pissed you off as not only were you ranked down to number two, but also because it showed how sneaky the other girl was. You was convinced Aeri started the rumors about herself for attention and only hated her more for it. She certainly seemed quite pleased with herself when she shut the door and pinned you to the wall with a smirk. The taller girl had a height advantage over you and looked down at you , hands to each side of your head. You looked up with a annoyed stare, internally beating yourself up over losing. You were snapped out your thoughts when Aeri kissed you and couldn’t help but melt into the kiss.

They kissed there for about a minute or so before you were picked up, automatically wrapping your legs around Aeri’s waist as you were carried to the bed. You were placed gently on the bed surprisingly and you two kept kissing, fighting for dominance. Clashes of teeth and tongue ensued and Aeri got the upper hand due to your inexperience. Aeri takes off the other girl’s sweater and unbuttons her shirt. She was about to go for the your skirt before her hand was grabbed “You first” you said bluntly, mainly out of embarrassment of being half naked. Aeri sighs as she shrugs off her jacket and unbutton her own shirt, not fully taking it off but unbuttoning most of the buttons. You looked up at the pretty sight and really tried not your best to look down but you eventually did which made Aeri laugh quietly.

“Enjoying the view?” She said softly teasing. Your face went red with annoyance and strangely.. also arousal. You turn your head away which makes Aeri hold back her laughter again. She decides to get attention someway so she takes off the brunette’s shoes and stockings. She takes off your skirt and protection shorts, revealing your underwear. Jimin starts to kiss up the exposed side of your neck and whispering “Babe.. look at me..” she initially whispers softly but got no reaction from you. She then decides to start lazily rubbing her finger your clothed clit.

Aeri watches your face any sign of pleasure and laughs quietly at the sight in front of her. You shut your eyes and clamped a hand over your own mouth, remaining the same even when Aeri was feeling the wet patch in your underwear. “Look at me” she whispered quietly that gained no response. With this, she knew she had to try harder which made her act on impulse and slap your ass, which finally gained a reaction. “Ah!-” a startled moan finally escaped your mouth despite her action in protest to the pleasure. Aeri at this point was hot and bothered by how long one fucking moan took, making her urges take control of her for a minute and grasp the smaller girl’s throat by force. Your face clearly distressed, tried to gasp for air but the noises that did escape almost emulated a bird’s chirp. You squirmed in the older’s girls grasp yet felt.. hot for some reason. “Your really fucking bipolar you know that? You want to agree to a bet with me yet you want to be stubborn and not take your punishment well?” Your eyes were still adverted due to embarrassment at this, she did start all of this yet she does not want to just take it as she was so sure she would be on top, she never messes up. “S-sorry.. keep going..” she hesitantly opens her legs. She’s never been with anyone, let alone a girl so she was pretty nervous. At this, a idea popped into Aeri’s head as a form of punishment.

She took your bra and underwear off, making you completely bare under her. She took a minute to admire your body — she wanted to do this for a few months now and the opportunity just presented itself without her asking for it. She saw how shy you got at the intimacy and she enjoyed the pouty expression on your face — it just made Aeri want to fuck you more. She played with your breasts and teased your nipples, enjoying the whines and occasional whimpers that escaped you. She took it a step further and started licking and sucking hickeys on your breasts. Aeri loved marking girls in general, especially the pale ones as the marks were more evident. 

She looked down with a smirk to see how wet you were getting and how you thrusted up for some friction which was unsuccessful. You tried to form words which you could start then would turn into a whine. Your legs shaked which indicated you were about to cum which is when Jimin removed her hand and mouth off her tits. You let out a noise and said confused “Aeri.. what..” Aeri stroked your hair and said “You weren’t supposed to, that was a punishment.” You kept a pouty expression and crossed arms which made the other girl melt “Fine.. do you want your reward?”. Your eyes lighted up at this as you nodded frantically “Please unnie.. I’ll be good..”

The room is filled with your high-pitched moans as Aeri slips her tongue you. She keeps a tight grip on your ass, one hand on each side, tight enough to leave bruises. Aeri;s tongue plays with the other girl’s g-spot as you thrust upwards into the other girl’s mouth. Aeri starts sucking and you manage to grab a handful of the other girl’s hair as you hold Aeri’s mouth in one spot, right on the place you like it most. Her tongue goes even faster which makes your hips buckle and your moans get louder. You finally cum in Aeri’s mouth and fall onto the bed. The ravenette finally looks up at the brunette after swallowing it all, wiping her mouth and laying next to her. 

There is about 30 seconds of blissful silence before Aeri finally says “Did I live up to all your fantasies?” she says with a smirk. Your face goes red and get embarrassed “Shut up!” which makes you flip on your side, forgetting for a second you were bare naked. You peaks your head back around to see Aeri checking her out, making you let out a cute yet annoyed noise “Turn around you perv!”. The taller girl grabs a blanket and drapes it over them both up to their waists. Aeri then moves over and spoons you , one hand on your waist and the other travelling up to your marked breasts. You shake your head and says “No! Not again!”. Aeri puts her head into the pillow and buries her face in your hair as she inhales the flower-scented shampoo you use. She finally says “Fine.. let’s sleep now”. You would be embarrassed to admit how easily you fell asleep after that but you did sleep very well.. in Aeri’s arms.

note . . .

i originally wrote this as a jimin x reader fic and I was choosing between which one was better. discreet was definitely better written and this sat unfinished in my google docs for a few weeks. i reread it, tweaked it a bit (it's still cringe) and finished the fic for giselle. so if the fic happens to say Jimin anywhere, just lmk so I can change it

navigation: kpop masterlist , aespa masterlist

[literaryvein-reblogs]

bunny x cat dynamic?

Like, adhd bunny and grumpy cat dynamic? I'm going to try writing a bit where the dynamic of the main characters are fleshed out. Any input on what people often enjoy about these for me to take into account?

To me it's so cute because she considers herself more as an annoying dog but for him, he considers her to be a cute, hyperactive bunny (that's kind of useless to (literal) death but let's put that aside, or not)

The ideal response to this would come from your readers. If you've already established your reader base, try asking them their preferences and expectations. Of course—still, write the story you want (and need) as a writer. And there it is, in your second paragraph. The idea is that if you write what you want, the people who also prefer this dynamic will find your work and stay for the rest of the story, and will more likely enjoy your other work as well (this is essentially what most successful authors advise new writers—write what you want, what you enjoy etc etc). But striking a balance between your readers' and your own preferences would be great too.

If you don't have a reader base yet, I'd suggest going through your favourite literature/films and finding ones that depict this particular character dynamic. Then you yourself, as a reader/viewer now, could answer what you find enjoyable about these pieces of media, and incorporate that in your writing.

Also, here are some tropes that I think have similarities with the dynamic you described. Same suggestion with finding books or films/TV shows you like that feature these tropes. But also research their readers'/audience's feedback to find out what they enjoyed about these character tropes, and this is what you can take into consideration for your story.

Grump and sunshine. One character is so grumpy all the time; the other character is so bubbly all the time. And somehow, through that power-of-love thing, they end up balancing each other out. The grump sometimes has sworn off love.

Savvy Guy, Energetic Girl. This is a potential pairing (platonic or otherwise) between a pragmatic guy and a girl who is very full of energy. One partner in the pair will be lively and optimistic while the other is savvy and more slothful, quiet, or otherwise less expressive. EXAMPLES:

In Corpse Bride, Emily and Victor. The former is a dead bride who is rather lively and spiritual for a corpse, while the latter is a live man who is shy and awkward almost to a fault.

This defines Anna and Kristoff's relationship in Frozen nicely. She is a spunky princess willing to do whatever it takes to bring her sister home, he is a grumpy, rough-around-the-edges ice harvester helping her along the way.

In Pixar's Up, the quiet and timid Carl befriended and eventually married the energetic Ellie.

Uptight Loves Wild. He's stuffy. She's untamed. It's true love. Mr. Stuffy is in a rut: Life is boring because he plays by the rules. Along comes this wild and crazy woman to show him how to live life to its fullest, and she just might learn a few things along the way, too. EXAMPLES:

Enchanted: Stuffy, cynical divorce lawyer Robert meets fairytale princess Giselle.

The Sound of Music: Maria isn't "wild", but she is a Blithe Spirit in the face of the extremely uptight, Captain von Trapp.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: Quite thoroughly deconstructs this. A relationship like this doesn't always work and after the falling-in-love part, it causes more pain than joy; so much so that both parties opt to have their memories removed of each other. The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is also far more complicated: "I'm not a concept, I'm just a fucked-up girl looking for a peace of mind".

Opposites Attract. EXAMPLES:

The Princess and the Frog has Tiana and Naveen. She's a Workaholic, no-nonsense waitress and he's a fun-loving, lazy prince.

Tangled gives us the jaded, worldly-wise thief Flynn Rider and the spirited, innocent princess Rapunzel.

Treasure Planet has Captain Amelia and Dr. Doppler. She's a tough-as-nails Action Girl, he's a bookish scientist, not to mention they're basically an anthropomorphic cat and dog, respectively. The two grow closer throughout the movie, and by the end they even have several kids.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[we-drank-too-much-bleach]

every captain’s music taste go

ooooooooooo I love thinking about the music taste of characters!!

-Yamamoto doesn't like music but if he was forced to listen to something' it'd be 60s rock

-Soi Fon listens to country in secret and cries over love songs because they remind her of her girlfriend

-Rose is a big 70s-90s rock fan and will never shut up about it. He does a LOT of covers and knows more than literally anyone else. (he is also a Lady Gaga fan)

-Unohana listens to death metal and nu metal and sometimes softcore stuff

-Shinji is a canon jazz fan but likes hip hop and rnb stuff too

-Byakuya likes classical Japanese music but ever since Rukia introduced him to Hatsune Miku he's been fascinated by her

-Komamura listens to folk music

-Shunsui listens to the Rolling Stones /Lisa listens to the most explicit music ever (she loves WAP and thinks Closer by Nine Inch Nails is relatable)

-Kensei listens to Sabaton and indie love songs but literally nobody believes that he does

-Toshiro listens to whatever Rangiku forces him to

-Kenpachi listens to whatever Yachiru listens to (death metal)

-Mayuri listens to breakcore and merzbow

-Ukitake listens to the Beatles (and argues with Shunsui over which band is better)/Rukia is the biggest vocaloid fan ever

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

FORMER CAPTAINS WOOOO

-Yoruichi's music taste is so random that whenever she puts on her playlist everyone is like "you're a fan of them too?" and she's like "...yea why wouldn't I?"

-Urahara listens to EDM and has raves in his basement

-Isshin listens to pop music...fuckin loser

-Aizen listens to classical music

-Gin listens to 80s pop rock, Aizen and Tosen don't really like it

-Tosen listens to classical music (that's the only way he's bonded with Aizen) and lofi because he thinks it sounds nice

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

oh my gosh oh my gosh I'm sorry we haven't said anything in a moment but still this was fun I loved itttttt :D

-Meninas

I no have comment

-Giselle

[intotheelliwoods]

-> -> -> 2AL playlist drop!

Answered all the music related asks under the cut!

Question reference btw!

---

@teainthesnow

4 - a lyric you like

"Triangles are my favorite shape" From Tessellate by Alt-J !! Do I know why? Nah. I just also like triangles :)

11 - a popular song you think is Good, Actually

On Time by The Disco Biscuits !! Its not popular more than it is mainstream? Its one of those songs you swear you have heard everywhere, because its very much played everywhere, but like its actually good! Either its played everywhere or it just gives me loads of nostalgia? Eh whatever, its still good and im bestowing it upon you.

13 - a playlist name without context

"To Enter The Beyond" Past Human City Soundtrack

18 - a song or lyric that reminds you of the asker

Oh this for sure belongs on your AMW playlist!! Gives some absolute Tea vibes!

---

@dandywonderous

5 - ramble about a song

FORGIVENESS BY ALICE GLASS!!!!!!! OUGHOUGHOGH I LOVE THIS SONG WITH ALL MY HEART god something about it just vibrates my insides and tickles my eyes. I dont know how to describe it other than each time I hear this song I feel nothing but pure power and hopelessness at the same time. Drifting along in never ending darkness, and the only thing you have with you are the spirits and memories of those who have passed. The spirits call for freedom. You should listen to them. This song gets real for me alright?

7 - a song for which you like a cover more than the original

Not really a cover moreso than it is a remix!? But im counting it! Silk by Giselle, the original, somber and sweet but just sorta missing something you know? This remix by Favored Nations though? SLAPS. Its so upbeat and I am so here for it!

11 - a popular song you think is Good, Actually

Honestly literally anything by Electric Light Orchestra. Though to be more specific, Evil Woman!! Alright is also a good one, but less popular!

16 - do you sing or play any instruments?

No instruments here! I actually have one really nice/complex song memorized that I can do on the piano but unfortunately thats about it whoops~ As for singing apparently I actually sing good when I try!?

23 - a song you remember liking as a kid

You are going to laugh at this one. Actually. I still like it. But damn was I a weird kid. I once had a solid 150 digits of pi memorized because I would just play this stupid song on loop for like a whole ass hour every now and then???? I think I still have about 50 memorized thanks to this song.. whoopsies

---

@thimbell

5 - ramble about a song

YESSSSS YESSSSS I GET TO RAMBLE ABOUT ANOTHER SONG The World Is Ending by Matt and Kim !!!!!!!!!!!!! good GOD this song is so dear to me. Not because of the song really, but because of what the song means to me? The connections I have too it?????? Longish story short, someone made a killer AMV using it? The AMV using clips from the show Final Space! No clue if you have seen the show but no matter. Final Space is definitely up there as one of my favorite shows, not only because its good but because it actually helped me get closer with my dad, we watched it together! In other words I associate this song with just so much joy. The AMV if you were curious btw!

14 - an unpopular music opinion

Glass Animals is overrated <3 <3 Dont get me wrong I love their music! It just gets so tiresome hearing them everywhere!??? Probably just a me problem though

24 - a song people often misinterpret

I dont think I have much an answer for this one, apologies! Mostly because its not too often I pay attention to lyrics, and even then I think its cool that everyone has their own interpretations of someones song!

---

@wraenata

17 - a song that has made you cry

... honestly? Any song in a tv show that is played during a sad scene! A REALLY sad scene... one that comes to mind is Enter One by Sol Seppy (would recommend skipping to about 2:30), because it is played in the death scene of one of my all time favorite characters... alright im going to weep about that death scene more now because listening to this again is NOT helping pfft... oughh honestly now im tempted to add it to the 2AL playlist... maybe.

24 - a song people often misinterpret

Answered above!

30 - a song that makes you nostalgic

Divinity by Porter Robinson, listen this used to be my favorite song for the longest time... and it might even still be my favorite song?? Either way, I DARE not listen to it anymore for the sake of I fear for the day where this absolutely nostalgic gem gets tiresome for me...

---

@unfortunate-songbird

17 - a song that has made you cry

Answered this one above! Though for a less serious answer, any of the finale songs in Centaurworld... oops.

---

1 - which artist(s) have you listened to the most lately?

The Asteroids Galaxy Tour has been a fav in the past month! Heres a good song by them if you would like~

I am going to use this ask as a chance to also say how much I love Hugo Kant!! He makes great stuff to chill too when working! If I could log hours on youtube, my most listened to videos are so just listening to the guy live!

21 - favourite album

Not to pull out my inner cowboy, but Harlequin Dream by Boy & Bear. I fear for the day I get sick of this album its such a trip for me!

28 - rank the songs in an album

THATS IT IM RANKING ALL THE SONGS IN PAGANS IN VEGAS BY METRIC. I love this album.

#1 - Celebrate. This is the song that introduced me to the band and gives me SUCH a blast of nostalgia each listen, and it shows. Best song in the album by far. Its so weird though since I knew this song before I knew about the rest of the album, so when I finally discovered the whole album each time this song comes up its so out of place pfft! Still such a bop though!

#2 - Blind Valentine. This is just one of those songs I love singing too whenever it comes on alright!?????

#3 - Lie Lie Lie. This is the first song in the whole album, and honestly? What a knee slapping way to start an album too god damn!!!!

#4 - Cascades. I am begging you to skip to about 3:15 in this song, its a little on the plain end before that end, but THAT ENDING??????? SLAYS.

#5 - Too Bad, So Sad. ITS SO GRINDY I LOVE IT. I FEEL LIKE A PUNK IN A DESERTED WASTELAND

#6 - For Kicks. The beat is just so unique here!!!!!!???????

#7 - The Face Part |. Just some funky cool down beats at the end of the album that are very enjoyable!

#8 - Fortunes. A decent enough second song in the album, helps sets the tone for whats coming!

#9 - The Shade. Its actually a good song, just nothing special about it you know??

#10 - The Governess. vibes are there, the vibes are sure there

#11 - The Face Part ||. Just more cool off tunes to end the album with

#12 - Other Side. No. Why are you here. your ass does NOT fit with the rest of this god-tier album. goodbye.

---

Edit: @kiaxet Thought I should add you to the masterpost here!!

5 - ramble about a song

Ok. Adventure Time by Yoann Turpin. I am usually not too big on 16 bit video game sort of vibes but this??? Is such a MASSIVE exception. Holy????? THE HEART THE GUY PUT INTO THIS SONG MAN. The beat is just so unique, its impossible to try and guess whats going to happen in the song next, you strait up feel like you are on an ADVENTURE. I am so here for this song, god and its so upbeat I am in LOVE.

By the way, I linked the whole ass album because the whole album overall is so nice to listen to to pump you up when doing dishes or something lmaooooo, the first song in the album is also an amazing trip!!

8 - an artist you think underrated

HUGO KANT!!! God!!! mentioned above as well, I love Hugo Kant with a passion! He makes such good stuff just to chill too, and him live is absolutely incredible!

With the ask above I linked a video from him preforming live, so this time around I bring you two favorite albums of mine!! Far From Home and Out Of Time

I get in SUCH a zone listening to his stuff!

9 - a song you think is underrated

Phleps by C418!!! C418, the producer of the original music behind minecraft, but the guy has so much underrated personal music that is SO underrated! This song in particular, is vastly different from his usually stuff and I love it for that. Definitely underrated for being overshadowed by his work on minecraft and his work that isnt minecraft but sounds like minecraft..

29 - what do you look for in a song or artist?

I always look for something where you can tell it has genuine love and heart put into it! That + something that just sounds truly unique in its own right!

[writesforfun]

do you love me too? mark lee

fluff, friends to lover au, mark is a studio/company owner, composer, writer, singer with dreamies, y/n is a cafe owner

You really don't know what it was. It could be his eyes, it could be his smile, it could be his laugh, it could be the way that the darn man could do and nail basically everything, or it could be— as simple as he's Mark Lee.

You and Mark had known each other through Haechan, a extrovert person who's basically friends with everyone anyway. It has been almost 4 years since you two know each other, and you have liked Mark since the third encounter you two have.

He took his precious time to take you back to your house because he was "Worried about your safety if you come back home with an Uber this late."

It was 7 PM, probably even half.

"Y/N? What could you possibly be thinking for you to ignore my words just now?" Mark asks, with a almost cheeky smile never leaving his face. You stopped your stupid little daydream to look at his face properly, then your stupid heart started beating faster than a racing car. Good.

"Oh, uh.. no. I was just thinking if I left the stove on." You answer meekly, which is a stupid answer by the way. But as expected from Mark Lee and his goddamn humor, he starts laughing hard at your words.

"That's really funny. But usually if you think about it, it's not true. Anyways, I was saying if you maybe want to listen to my song demo? Cause you're kind of a reaaaaallyyyyy good music critique." Said Mark. He kind of elbowed you so softly, that like a spell you just nodded.

There's exactly two reasons why Mark would say you're a "good music critique."

First, you and Mark have basically the same taste in music. Second, his first solo album you very strongly said to put out even though Mark was still insecure and unsure about it was a big hit with a whopping 142 million listens on the first day.

"Sure."

And so his hand reaches out to his laptop as he started doing his thing. You took a second to look around his studio, and you then realize he hung the picture of you and him that you two took about four weeks ago from a trip you went with Jaemin, Haechan, Karina, and Giselle. It was just a small trip consisting of his friends and your friends whom happen to be friends with Mark and his friends as well, same goes with you.

"Okay, are you ready?" He asked with a dashingly amazing smile on his face. You answered with a small laugh and a nod, and he's preparing himself by letting out a breath and started playing the song. It started off as a melody— a piano melody that's quite bad you're awfully familiar with. It's you playing the piano. You gave him a look of pure confusion but he didn't spare you any glance. His lips are sealed shut as he drank the coffee you made just for him from your own cafe as he stare at whatever it is in front of him.

You're on my mind again today

What you doing? Are you feeling okay?

I wanna kiss your lips but don't want us to be awkward

You're my everything though I just hope you know

You're the sun to my life

From the very first time I've met you in your cafe

I realize then I've fallen for you

And it's getting deeper every single day

I just wanna be yours every day

But do you love me too?

And then a melody plays, this time a sweeter piano melody which you're sure he played. You don't know how to feel. This all seems like a very you and him situation song and you don't know how to feel. The lyrics are beautiful though, that you just wish it's for you. You know it's a stupid thought, but just perhaps—

"It's for you. The song. I don't expect you to answer or anything but, uh, dude.. I really love you so much and—"

You decided to kiss his lips right away. You took the courage to spare a glance at him, and you saw him wide-eyed with a furrowed brow. It took him a few seconds to relax, and then he started shutting his eyes shut and kissing you back. He smiled a little, his moves are slow on your lips as he started cupping your cheek. You couldn't possibly forget the way you feel. You just know your cheeks are as red as a tomato and as warm as a hot stove. Your heart rate isn't normal either, that you're sure of.

But your heart is full.

He let go of you as he felt your breath starting to hitch, and then he laughed a little and hugged you. "I thought it was a one-sided love story trope and wanted a she fell first but he fell harder trope love story but this works too," You said.

He laughed hard at your word and started to stomp his whole feet. "That's sooooo cute. I love you,"

"I love you too."

"I love you more?!"

"I love you most. Nothing could beat that, Y/N. I'll prove it to you every single day. You're the most beautiful and amazing woman alive. Like, dude, I.. I literally thank your presence every day to God. Like.. s-seriously."

You smiled at that. You hugged him tighter as you kiss his neck. "You are so not gonna release that song. My piano sucks. I didn't even know why you would've recorded that."

He smiled. "I recorded that cause it's you. Anyways no promises!"

"Hey!" You protest as you start to tickle his body. He laughed and hugged you even harder, and your heart warms at that.

You can't believe Mark Lee is your boyfriend now, let alone he actually loves you back sincerely.

But you could get used to this.

[lqfiles]

shaking w excitement cuz ur basically the whole reason this smau is even coming to fruition rn BUT i chose the majors based on an interview they did WAYY back when for nylon, that’s where the arts and premed and music come into play, haechans was just kinda vaguely ab having to do w music but i chose music teacher bc i have a cute idea for that as well, jeno for whatever reason said he’d wanna be an architect?? so i just went w it but i wont put it past him tbh cuz MINGYU😭 also said in another life he would’ve been an architect as well,, something ab idols who have the puppy assignment and architecture i guess… totally not judging (i judge as if i wasn’t doing architecture in high school)

giselle i’m totally lost on so i just chose a similar one to what y/n would be doing because im not sure she’s ever answered this question i haven’t finished my research so it’s subject to change and about yangyang… he said he would’ve been.. a race car driver… and i just couldn’t… figure out why he’d go to university for that… so i gave him the communications and marketing thing cuz he has that 2016 loud youtuber vibe sometimes, otherwise id probably make him a streamer for the silly aspect because i love him he’s such a loser

MARK is majoring in creative writing and journalism 🤭 intellectual young man 🤭 art is his hobby 🤭

—🪼

(i’m genuinely so excited im so close to being ready to post)

I FEEL HONOURED‼️ but pmg i need to see this interview, i don’t think i’ve seen it yet? i’m not surprised that haechan choose a music oriented career because he always seems so passionate about it but i find it super entertaining how in every fic he’s portrayed as a drama/theatre student because he just gives of those vibes so much loll 😭 ITS THE PUPPY IDOLS THAT LOVE THE ARCHITECTURE IT SEEMS.. this randomly reminds me of how jungwoo would’ve been a mechanic if it wasn’t for nct like omg WHAT. HAKDHSKSJSK YANFYANG UNSERIOUS AS HELL what do you even apply for in uni to become a race car driver lmaooo mark being journalism and creative writing is sooooo him tho like you ate that you ate that, can’t wait to see how you’ll portray him 😁 IM ROOTING FOR YOU!!!!

[roberrtphilip]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOFIA!!!!!! i have questions >:3

what’s her favorite color? what are her favorite disney movies? what’s her favorite thing to do with each family member one-on-one? what’s her favorite animal? what does she wanna be when she grows up? what’s her favorite stuffed animal/comfort item? what’s her favorite school subject? does she like video games? does she like sports? and lastly, how old is she when she first goes to andalasia !!!

AH !! 💛

I think her favorite colors are yellow, green, and purple ! Though if she had to pick just one, it would be yellow.

Her favorite Disney movie is Tarzan, and she really likes Kerchak. Her love for him stems from when she was a baby, for some reason his angry face just always made her giggle. and she does Not like that he dies 💔 She also really loves Tarzan because the music reminds her of Giselle, who used to sing You'll Be in my Heart when she was a baby 🤧 I think she's also very fond of Mulan, and the Princess and the Frog. and while it's not a big favorite, she likes Frozen because she knows Robert does not like it, so she can annoy him with Let it Go.

Her favorite thing to do one-on-one with Giselle is just about everything. I think Sofia follows her mother around wherever she goes, and always wants to help, and learn whatever it is Giselle's doing. If her mother is cooking, Sofia is right there beside her (usually in her way (affectionate)) and asks a million questions. Same with sewing, or gardening, or even cleaning. And she's always very proud of herself when she's able to help !! I think she really loves cuddling with Giselle most, though, especially if it involves her mother reading to her, she looooooves her mother's voice (and who doesn't, honestly)

With Robert, her favorite thing is driving him crazy. and I mean that both jokingly, and genuinely, because god, she really loves when he lets out an exasperated sigh, it's her favorite thing in the world. Her dad is the most "let's just do something calm and relaxing" parent, which is nearly impossible for Sofia, because she just can't sit still, but she is very fond of playing sudoku !! Both Robert and Sofia are big math nerds, so from a pretty early age, he was teaching her how to play. They play that, or just really any math related activity, and she loves it. Giving her a math activity is the easiest way to get her to stop bouncing off the walls.

With Morgan, it's arts & crafts related stuff. Which, she does this with Giselle, too, but she really loves doing it with Morgan just because her art style is so different from their mother's. I think they color, and draw, and paint a lot !

She loves gorillas, and when they go to the zoo, she always wants to see them first. But she's a huge bug and reptile girlie at heart, like she loves bugs way too much, and both Robert and Giselle have to remind her constantly that the bugs cannot cuddle in bed with her, that they have to stay outside. She really wants a pet snake, or a lizard, and while Giselle is fine with it, Robert is like "please tell her no, please tell her no, please tell her no, please !!!!!!!!!!!!!" because he can't deny his daughter anything, but he really doesn't want a snake in the house because he knows Sofia will make him hold it and he really doesn't want to 😩

I think she would want to be a fiction writer! She's got such a huge, active imagination, and she's very creative. She's always coming up with wild stories, and eventually she'd start to make coherent plots and characters, and put all those ideas on paper. I actually really love the idea of both her and Pip writing stuff together when they see each other, because he's a great storyteller too!

Her favorite stuffed animal is a little ugly stuffed dog named Fred. I say ugly in the most affectionate way, of course. It was something Robert bought for her before she was even born, so she's had it since she was a baby, and she loves it. She takes him everywhere, and for awhile he, of course, had no name, and was just "doggy", but then, suddenly, she decided his name was Fred. No reason behind it, he's just Fred. or Freddy, sometimes.

Math is definitely Sofia's favorite subject !! I like to think she'd probably join a mathletes type group at some point :]

I go back and forth on whether she (or Morgan) would ever enjoy video games, and I think yes, but the problem is all the games I know are a bit older, so I guess Sofia will just like (kind of) outdated things soidjfsodjsf I think she'd like Cooking Mama !! and she loves Nintendogs, oh and Sims, she loves the Sims !! and Pokemon, of course, we can't forget Pokemon. but also, the idea of her playing Grand Theft Auto, but never the actual storyline, just stealing cars and running people over is kind of hilarious to me, so I think she'd play that too.

Sofia loves soccer, absolutely loves soccer. I think she tears it up on the field, I really do. The coach tells her a few times "you can relax a little, it's okay... you're six, and so is everyone else on the field..." and she's like "no, I literally can't, actually, they have to be eliminated." She inherited Giselle's competitiveness and overall lack of Chill™️

With Andalasia, I think she'd probably start going when she's around four. Giselle was fine with her portal hopping, and really wanted to take her, but Robert was worried about things possibly going wrong. Sofia was still so young, and such a little thing, he didn't want her getting hurt along the way, so he tried pushing it back as much as he could. Once she hit four, though, he knew he couldn't stop her from going, because Sofia was very aware of the portal existing in their backyard, and he knew if he didn't say yes, she'd jump down by herself, which was an even scarier thought. She was, of course, perfectly fine. As always, Robert just overthinks, but hey, someone in this family has to worry !!

I actually bounce back and forth a lot on whether I think Sofia would want to live in Andalasia when she grows up or not. Cause on one hand, she doesn't want to leave the world she grew up in, and there's far too much she'd miss but she also loves the carefree nature of Andalasia, and prefers the overall vibe a lot more than Reality. She knows that living there wouldn't mean never coming back or seeing her family, of course, but it's still a big change, and one she goes back and forth on a lot. Ultimately, I think she would stay in Reality, but I'm torn because I also do think it'd be interesting for her to move to Andalasia permanently, so idk. It's a convo I have with myself quite often.

[sikkkko]

Blurred Lines. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

chapter 02: an expected but unexpected reunion. ( 🖊️ )

where : yizhuo yn and park sunghoon were not only a couple, but the bestest of friends, an inseparable pair; both deeply in love with each other. a love as intense as their personalities. despite their deep connection, they were young and ambitious, and the pressures of life pulled them apart. the couple mutually decided to break up, hoping to carve out their futures separately. ¿what happens when they inevitably end up in the same friend group again? ¿will they fight for the once strong bond or will they continue their lives separately?

Masterlist Previous Next

the days went by quicker than expected, and to sunghoon's demise, the whole time jay, hee, and jake would not stop talking about yn, even in front of yunjin, a baddie sunghoon was trying to bang. every time yn's name came up, it was like a knife twisting in his gut, a constant reminder of everything he'd tried so hard to bury. It didn't help that yunjin was getting annoyed by it, too. her eyes would narrow whenever yn was mentioned, and sunghoon could feel her slipping further away.

"seriously, can we talk about something else?" sunghoon snapped, slamming his drink down on the table. they were all at their usual spot, a dimly lit bar where the music was loud enough to drown out the conversations, but somehow, yn's name still managed to cut through.

jay raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "what's your problem, man? we're just excited to see her again."

"yeah, well, not everyone's fucking excited," sunghoon muttered, glaring at his drink.

yunjin leaned in closer, her hand brushing against his arm. "you good, sunghoon?"

he forced her a smile, trying to shake off the irritation.

"yeah, all good. just tired of hearing about her, that's all."

heeseung shot him a look, something between pity and concern. "maybe you should talk to her when she gets here. clear the air or whatever."

"not happening," sunghoon said flatly. the idea of facing yn again made his chest tighten with a mix of anger and something else he couldn’t quite name.

A few more hours passed, and Sunghoon did his best to avoid the subject altogether, focusing instead on Yunjin. she was fun, easy to be around, and didn't bring up shit he didn't want to think about. but even with her around, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that hung over him, knowing yn was about to be in the same city, breathing the same air.

And then, it happened.

the next evening he was walking down the street, yunjin on his arm, when he saw her. yn. she was standing outside a café, laughing with winter, karina and giselle, looking just as he remembered -no, better, way better. the years had been kind to her, and it fucking pissed him off. how could she look so damn happy when he'd spent the last three years trying to forget she existed?

his feet involuntarily stopped moving before his brain caught up, and suddenly, they were making eye contact. yn's laughter died on her lips, and the smile faded as she recognized him. for a moment, the world seemed to freeze, the noise of the city fading into the background as they stared at each other.

"sunghoon..." yn's voice was soft, almost hesitant, like she wasn't sure if she had the right to say his name anymore.

he clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body tensing.

"yn."

yunjin looked between them, a confused frown on her face. "you guys know each other?"

"yeah, I know her," sunghoon said, his voice cold. he couldn't tear his eyes away from YN, even though looking at her made his chest feel like it was being crushed. "we have history"

yn swallowed, her eyes searching his for something-anything—but all she found was the anger he couldn't hide. "it's been a while," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

"yeah, it has," Sunghoon replied, his tone clipped. "Three years."

yn winced at the bitterness in his voice, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. but then she straightened, taking a deep breath. "i know I hurt you, Sunghoon. I never meant to-"

"save it," he cut her off, the words coming out harsher than he intended. "i don't need your fucking apologies."

"sunghoon, i-"

"I said save it," he repeated, his voice rising. yunjin tugged on his arm, trying to pull him away, but he couldn't move. he was rooted to the spot, anger and hurt warring inside him, threatening to spill over.

yn blinked back tears, her hands trembling slightly.

"i'm sorry," she whispered, the words barely audible. "I'm so, so sorry."

for a second, he almost softened. almost. but then the memories came rushing back-her leaving without a word, the sleepless nights wondering what he did wrong, the anger that festered and grew until it was all he had left of her.

"yeah, well, sorry doesn't cut it," sunghoon said, his voice cold as ice. "you should've thought about that before you fucking disappeared."

yn flinched, and for a brief moment, sunghoon felt a pang of guilt. but it was quickly swallowed by the anger he'd been holding onto for so long.

"let's go." he said, turning away from yn without another word. he didn't wait to see her reaction; he couldn't. If he did, he might've seen the tears that finally spilled over, the way her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she watched him walk away.

but he didn't see any of that. all he felt was the familiar ache in his chest, the one that had never really gone away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

as they rushed away, yunjin stayed quiet for a while before finally speaking up. "sunghoon, what the hell was that?"

"nothing," he muttered, though the tightness in his chest said otherwise. "it was nothing"

but they both knew it was a lie.

TAGLIST: @onlyhyunjin @iren3luvv @velvetkisscs @hoonatic @mitchii @do-you-remember-summer-127

[divorcedwife]

hope this ask isn’t too much of a bother but I really enjoyed that rite of spring perf you posted the link to and was wondering whether you had any other favorite performances (of whatever ballet you like, I know very little about it). Your art is absolutely gorgeous btw and I love seeing all your posts!! Hope you’re having a good day❤️

oh im glad!! <33 i think it's just so good, it's probably my favorite ballet because i enjoy everything about it. the music, the dancing, the storyline that's very simple and conveyed so well. i just love way the music will grow insanely dissonant and scary and pull back just before it gets too much, and alternate between that and moments that are beautiful and mysterious

anyway. to answer your actual question. yes absolutely! i don't have links to other full performances (sadly </3) but i definitely have some dancing clips that i've been watching lately, and maybe you'll find interesting

giselle - death of hilarion (link 1 - link 2) : the willis are vengeful ghosts who use magic to make men dance to death. i love how his dancing mirrors the girls, like a puppet! and the dancer who plays the queen, i never get tired of the way she turns him away. i really like giselle in general, though act 1 is a bit boring. it gets good when she dies

romeo and juliet - juliet's variation : the dancing is so fun and delightful. really does feel like a young girl who is having fun at a party and doesn't care what anyone thinks!

romeo and juliet - dance of the knights : love love love this choreography. it's so simple in a way that's so bold and so good at conveying who these people are. pure power

swan lake - act III pas de deux : now this is a famous one. i just love evil dancing. the way she calls the prince to her and wrenches her hand away from him at the end - so good

the young girls of rochefort - opening : now this isn't ballet anymore, but this movie has some of my favorite dancing ever. it looks spontaneous and natural, it looks fun. i want to be there with them

the young girls of rochefort - andy in love : i just love how the choreography is written to look like they're making it up on the fly, it's very cute. same point as above but everyone in this movie seems so happy just to be alive and the dancing is so good at conveying that

i hope these will be interesting to you! thank you for sending me this and for your kind words <333333

[mosviqu]

huge engene yes true no lies were detected in ur statement!! they do be sounding like slam poetry but i love it ngl.-. DONT EVEN START DUDE I DONT THINK BELIFT WILL REMOVE IT CUZ THEY PROBABLY THOUGHT THAT THIS WOULD HAPPEN BUT BOY WAS I PISSED WAKING UP TO KENGENES SENDING A TRUCK OR EHATEVER AND THEN SEEING THE SUNGTAROOKIES NEWS WAS THE WORST MORNING I HAD IN A WHILE LITERALLY DIDNT GO ON SOCIAL MEDIA FOR THAT DAY I WAS SO UPSET so yeah i saw it lmao😃 if i really try to i kind of see it but i would have never thought about it ngl but now i love it even more🤭 it do be screaming camp rock vibes!! and i'm so glad u like the album🥳😭

i hope zbone wont do noise music cuz i will be pissed oh god;-; SO TRUE BRING THE CUTE ONES BACK PLS!! idk if u talked about it or heard about them but the new hybe boy group does have happy vibes with no noise music but somehow i'm just so not vibing with it.-. i'm trying my best to do so cuz we have 3(!!!!) 03liners in there lmao

i think my minecraft addiction shows here as well but i would be so happy to find that out lmao i think i would probably have the same reaction when i found out giselle made lps videos when she was younger (although idk if that was actually her) i so understand the wilbur brain rot!! YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND WAS A CULTURAL RESET IM HAPPY HE LIKED IT

no cuz same i stared at the video for a while💀 i think seventeen atp will just remind me of u cuz i saw dino pink hair and i also immediately thought of u upon seeing him!! it would be so great if they did the tiktok part of it atleast wahhhh

I COULD NEVER DO A BRITISH ACCENT AND THAT MAKES ME SO SAD but im glad u are living the best british life in ur head sometimes lmao😌 we will see but it will stay like this for a while till i figure out something more okay lmao (liebestraum anon💕💗💞)

AHAHAH nothing bad with slam poetry At. All. 😌😌 ngl i do get where youre coming from, they must have expected this reaction. I am honestly glad they kept it despite the trucks and all 😭 but are those fans not embarrassed. like bestie......get a life 😭😭😭😭 dont even mention sungtaro tho bc i am still mad and heartbroken over this 🤠 they really debuted them....for no reason..? oh lord. im burning the SM building down as we speak!

LITERALLY like noise music had its era but i think we can put it behind us now.....please.... like some of the 4th gen debuts are a whole CIRCUS 😭😭 AND I DID TALK BAOUT BOYNEXTDOOR ACTUALLY AHAHA i listened to one of their songs and i actually vibed with it so hard ive been waiting for a fresh concept. THREE 03 LINERS ARE U KIDDING ME now if this doesnt lure me into stanning 💔

GISELLE DID WHAT NOW ???? I DIDNT KNOW ABOUT THAT 😭😭😭😭😭 iconic. sO iconic. Your new boyfriend was a cultural reset but i remember my brother showing it to me before i knew of wilbur and lovejoy and i was like what the actual FUCK is this.

jihoon had us masmerized 🤡🤡 omgomg thats so sweet actually 🥺 svt are one of my ults hhh i recently got back super into them hhh also dino reminding u of me as he should!! boyfriend ❤😌 still waiting for treasure super challenge altho i think we are not getting it 😔 at least i got cix seunghun version to ease the pain💔

NO BC ME NEITHER my account is like the weirdest mix of everything bc i taught myself english pretty much,, so my source of accent is whatever media im obsessed with in that moment 😭😭😭 but my british accent sounds very bad thats why it always stays in my head only❤

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—��

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback 

[911nmg]

Bring me out of the dark

Chapter 3

Also published on AO3

Tw: childhood abuse

Tw: csa

Tw: eating disorders, purging

Tw: ptsd, intrusive thoughts

Control

Natasha's POV

The first act of Giselle was not simple if we’re talking technique, but the muscle memory was there, working through every arabesque, frappé and attitude turn. The uncountable hours spent fortifying my technique helped me dance even through the jumped pax de chevals without difficulty. My favorite part, however, was the madness part with its menage of chaineés tourneés.

Every girl had felt like Giselle at some point, broken-hearted to the point you think you might die. But in real life you don’t, because that would be too fucking easy.

We girls all ran to our changing rooms the second the intermission curtain came down. Some of our male colleagues went to shower and relax, their work finished for the night, others sat by the wings, both for enjoyment and to cheer us through the second act. 

Lauren, our costume assistant, helped me shed the peasant costume and get into my ghostly white and rhinestoned dress after I changed from an almost dead pair of pointe shoes to a soft but still strong one.

- Do you need anything else? - She asked with a soft smile.

- I'm all good here - I started with the makeup - Maybe Harumi needs help with the damned Mirtha’s wings.

She laughed and wished me luck.

I finished the makeup by shadowing my cheekbones in light gray, not that I needed much help looking ghostly, lack of sleep had definitely taken a toll on my body.

It had been the last variation he had coached me for, and his words and acts had awoken from deep within my bones this past month.

That night before the competition he had made me repeat all act two with weights on my ankles and wrists, and any time he had found a mistake I’d gotten a hit from his cane and had to ran the solo from the start. It should have felt wrong but instead I had slipped into his methodology with surprising ease. Dancing night after night until I collapsed into a nigtmareless sleep.

I could deal with pain, but his words, his touch, that was what had been poisoning me.

I tried to calm myself in front of the mirror, arranging carefully the white flowers in my low romantic bun, still, I could feel his warm, labored breath on my neck. One hand groping my breasts, the other one forcing my legs open. My good girl. My Natalia...

- Enough! - I punched my thigh hard enough to bruise, and took a look at the monitor above my head, Mirtha’s solo was starting, I still had some time. More than I’d need.

I washed my hands with care, soaping each and every one of my fingers, rinsing in scorching water. In a trance I kneeled by the ceramic toilet and pushed at the back of my throat with two fingers.

The threats and insults, his teeth digging on my skin, the slaps and hits that colored my body, his hands curling around my neck, the slow and reverent undressing, him taking whatever he wanted. I should had learnt earlier that if I kept my mouth shut and stayed still it would be over sooner, pity I had always been a feisty little shit.

I purged my memories until I could no longer throw up, acid and bile turning the water an ugly greenish color. My body was covered up in a cold sweat, still, I rose from the floor, washed my hands and brushed my teeth, then took a deep breath.

The moment I got on stage everything disappeared. It was me and the music. The lights were shining so bright I couldn’t see the public, much less think about them.

I floated through the steps, they were second nature. The rhythm cursed through my blood as I jumped, and turned, and swayed, my limbs moving on its own accord. I became one with the character, pleading for the love of my life not to suffer, she laughed but agreed, Mirtha did too.

When I started bowing I finally came out of my bubble and got to hear the energetic applause and the shouted bravos.

- Great job, Natasha - Thomas smiled at me - I think it was my smoothest debut yet.

- You are a great Albertch. Those entrechats had the public roaring!

- Said the queen of chaineés.

We bowed a few more times, waiting for the crow reaction to die down, before exiting the stage.

- Thanks for making it so easy, Thomas. Partnering with you.

The experienced man gave me a soft kiss on the hair - I’ll bring you some ice to your changing room, just, one minute.

- There’s no need.

- I insist. Albretch is supposed to be a gentleman.

I laughed at that, then caught a glimpse of the tiny beasts coming for him - Daddy! - They tackled him to the floor, two golden haired boys. His pregnant wife running behind them trying to get them to behave.

- Natasha - She hugged me softly - These are for you. Tom said you like them - She extended a box of warm oats and coffee cookies.

- There’s no need.

- That’s her favorite line - He teased - It’s okay you know? We want to help, and give you some tasty food, and shit like that.

He talked the kiddos into going for an ice bucket for me, and Gilda promised to send the recipe if I ever felt like making cookies. I interchanged some pleasantries with the ballet mistress and the artistic director, both content with my work, then kissed Lauren goodbye.

- Gosh, Tony!

My changing room was overflowing with flower bouquets, roses, violets, lilies, daisies, dalias, pansies and so many others I couldn't name, not even in russian.

- Looks like a flower shop exploded here.

- I have a friend who’s got too much money to burn through.

- Have a good night, girl - He placed the bucket at my feet - Don’t forget to have something nutritious before crashing onto bed!

- Kids! - I called the unruly boys before they were out of earsight - Pick a bouquet each for mama. She’s going to love getting flowers from you.

The older one waited for their father's approval, but the younger one had already chosen flowers for their mother and was running in her direction.

I iced my feet for ten minutes, then had a warm shower. Dreykov’s hands tried to snake around me, my good girl, my rising star, you did it... When the trail of kisses started to follow down my spine I just turned the water to its coldest setting and washed him away, scrubbing my skin raw and red.

My friends were all huddled together by the left stairs at the lobby, dressed in their finest, and glancing with worry at the clock.

- I’m here.

Maria was the first one to hug me, the striped pants suit she wore on special occasions creasing - You made me feel for the character, it was amazing, really.

- Thanks.

- Red - Tony kissed my hand, as a gentleman from times begone - One of the best performances of the role I’ve ever seen, you were magnificent.

I blushed hard, fighting the strange combination of pride and fear that accompanied any kind of praise. I both loved and hated it. It had always meant more for Vladimir.

- You turned my dressing room into a jungle. I’m supposed to get changed there tomorrow, you know?

- That’s Bruce’s fault.

He had the decency to look ashamed when I fulminated him with a glare - I asked on the chat who wanted to send you a bouquet and everyone said they did, and I might have gotten a little carried away. My mum had a flower shop and I just couldn’t decide...

His voice turned so bittersweet when talking about his mother that Tony embraced him and kissed his forehead with disgusting tenderness. His veiny branches used to hold me safe like that.

- So it’s everyone’s fault, noted - I kept the annoyed tone just a second longer.

- Not me - A deep smooth voice interrupted my show of petulance. It belonged to a strong build man with wavy brown shoulder length hair, deep frown and short beard - James Bucky Barnes - He extended his right hand in a movement that felt overly polite but I shook it.

- Natalia Romanova, or Natasha if you prefer the anglicized version - If he was going to give me the full name, it was polite to do the same, wasn’t it?

He chuckled, a soft smile illuminating his dark features - My pleasure.

- Now that you’ve shown you’re still a charmer, we are going to miss our reservation! - Tony’s whines took me out of the enchantment of his purring voice and the spell of his icy blue eyes.

Fuck dinner. I just wanted to drink until I could no longer think.

We walked just a few blocks to a small family owned italian restaurant decorated with photos of the motherland and bathed in warm light. There were a couple of childhood pictures of Tony in the walls, it apparently belonged to removed relatives he had great relations with. Because of course it did.

James scanned the seats in a way I recognized, deciding on best visibility while assessing possible escape routes. That's how we ended up seated side by side, Steve monitoring him, or both of us, from the opposite side of the table.

Menus came and went, I barely looked at mine before ordering a salad, knowing I would be contending with their worried glances all evening, or worse, we’d fight, with whom was still up in the air. The whole month had been a long fight over food, Maria, Sam, Steve, even Tony and Bruce had intervened. I had just lost a few pounds. Nothing to worry about.

Do not lie to me, kid! I shook his voice away by concentrating on the moment. Maria and Sam glanced playfully at each other, Tony was almost splayed across Bruce’s chest, looking kind of childlike and blissful, Peggy and T’Challa chatted away about a case and Steve failed at pretending not to watch over James. He was dripping in sweat, clearly struggling with whether or not to take his suit jacket off as everyone else had.

- Bucky, take the jacket off, you’ll overcook. Besides, it’s rented, we’re going to have to pay for dry cleaning - His friend finally encouraged.

- You didn’t have to dress up, none of you, there was no need...

- But we wanted to - He responded - Show respect for you and your profession. Even if it meant having to rent a suit jacket that I can barely move in.

Maria helped him out of the fabric, his figure turning unbalanced because of the missing arm and shoulder.

- What happened to the t-shirt pal?

It was missing a sleeve, tiny remnants of threads showing it had been torn apart.

- Felt wrong having the sleeve hanging there - He shrugged - Knits do not fray so, no need to fix it really.

- Do you know which fabrics fray? - Sam teased - Didn’t know you took home economics back in the fifties.

- More like in the army. Clothing can’t be bought online in Herat you know?

They had fun banter and the golden boy smiled relaxing back into his seat. He had been tense all night, waiting for something to make his friend go over the edge, yet, everything seemed to go smoothly.

I knew, though, the man next to me wasn’t really fine: he shook a little in his seat, his feet were firmly planted on the floor in case he had to hit the ground running and his eyes scanned the room and everyone at the place at a speed that almost gave me vertigo. Still, he talked, and joked, and ate.

- What do you think when you are dancing?

- I just kind of feel - I answered Bruce - I lose myself in heartbreak, sadness, supplication... Whatever the character is supposed to be feeling.

- You don’t think of the steps then? - T’Challa asked from the far left corner.

- I do when I train, I even record myself to review it, but when dancing on stage you have to rely on muscle memory and act.

- Like shooting - James muttered under his breath. Making me stifle a laugh. Just like that.

- Does it ever get taxing? Feeling so much?

- Sometimes.

The talking died down as they sank into their meals, then Sam perked up - Are your shoes made of wood?

- Wood?! - I shook my head in disbelief - They are made of fabric and glue! Almost like paper maché. Most have a strip of cardboard as a shank, but I three quarter shank my shoes to show my arches.

- You’ve lost me after the paper maché thing.

I motioned to Steve to pass me my bag and took one of the now too soft shoes out.

I peeled the sole back and showed them the cut strip of cardboard, then placed the shoe over my palm and allowed it to take its shape - The place where it bends coincides with the arch of my foot inside, that way the movement is more fluid and it shows my lines better.

- What’s the sewn thing? - Steve pointed to the darning on the box.

- I use russian pointes...

- Of course she does - Tony muttered.

- They have narrower bases compared to other styles so most users darn around to get a bit more surface to balance on. It also keeps the satin I cut off the box from fraying.

- So you go on your tiptoes on glue and fabric alone... You must have super strong feet.

- And unsightly as well, all covered in blisters and calluses.

- They’re not that bad! - Maria interjected.

- Key word being “that”.

They laughed and I relaxed, taking another bite from my plate.

- Dream role? - Steve had long ago finished his meal. Most of them had. And was sketching on the paper napkin while participating in the conversation.

- I would like to dance Swan Queen of course, but I don’t have a dream role apart from that.

- Not even a role choreographed to you?

- This man is unreal - Sam protested - Do you also know about ballet?

James just gave him an unimpressed smile before turning back to me, his eyes stopping for a second the analysis of our surroundings.

- That's every ballet dancer's dream. Mine included.

- You’ll get your chance, Red. You still have a long career ahead. If you don’t starve yourself to death before, of course.

They all stared, waiting for an outburst that wouldn’t arrive. A ballerina is above everything controlled.

- I’m not doing this guys. Not tonight - I rose from my chair and snatched my bag from Steve’s hands. Throwing the shoe haphazardly inside then turning towards my flatmate - Don’t wait awake for me, I’m going out.

- Nat, wait!

But I was already on the street, ready to go from sober to drunk, from girl to woman, from passive to active.

Salt, burning tequila, I gritted my teeth and bit down on a lemon.

Salt, alcoholic relief, acid lemon.

Salt, tequila, lemon.

Salt, tequila, lemon.

My tongue felt numb, my fingers, cold and sticky, held high the tiny glass, getting the bartender's attention - Another shot.

He had asked for my id and said nothing else, refilling my drink each and every time I asked. Not anymore.

- You sure want to drink more?

Deep voice, dark haired, facial stubble, well built... He was definitely my type.

I just shook the glass in the air and smiled, far from tipsy, enjoying the way the neon lights turned the transparent liquid into green venom that would kill my worries, red to replenish my blood, black to exorcize my demons.

- We’ll be closing soon.

I hummed my acceptance of the fact, drowning another shot and raising my glass again.

- Where does a girl go around here when she’s looking for fun? - I enunciated clearly, his eyes on my lips, my tone both innocent and enticing.

- Which kind of fun? - And there was an edge to his voice as well.

- Drink, dance... Those kinds of things.

He glanced at the clock behind the counter - At this hour, nowhere.

One, two, three...

- I have some nice speakers at my apartment though. I’ll even let you choose the music.

- How thoughtful of you.

He made a mate close as I paid the tab, and walked a mere block. He was kissing me before the elevator doors opened on his floor.

My back to the door, he fumbled with the keys before pushing us both in.

I lost myself in the voracious kisses, one of my hands trailing up his side, behind his shoulder, taking light hold of his hair, the other tracing the hard muscles of his abdomen as he undressed himself.

- If you keep touching me like that we are not getting to the bed.

- Maybe I don’t want that - I whispered to his ear, licking my way to his neck before nibbling at his skin.

He held me against the wall, my hands pinned over my head as he pulled down my skirt.

We lost my blouse and his pants on the way to the couch, its vinyl squeaking as we laid there.

He used to push me down, ignoring my pleas for him to stop, trapping me under his large body. You provoke me! Stop saying no!

Ben, if I recalled his name correctly, sucked on my nipples with care, brushing lightly my hip bones with big strong hands.

- Do you have a condom?

- Nightstand.

- Go for it. And leave those boxers behind! - I added - I want to enjoy that ass.

He laughed boyishly and came back in an instant, rolling it on.

- Sit - I ordered. Taking my remaining underwear off and sitting on his lap, lowering myself on him, a nice firm pressure between my legs.

I started moving slowly, rocking my hips back and forth as he got deeper in me, enjoying the sloppy kisses he pressed to my shoulders and the way his hands grabbed my ass.

He never minded whether I was ready or not, whether I was in pain, whether I was enjoying it. You know you like it!

I kept on riding him, pressure building at a steady pace - God... Natasha, it feels so good.

You feel so good my girl.

I sank my teeth on his lips, drawing blood, contracting around him until I pushed him over the edge, his thrusts accelerating - Natasha don’t stop, please...

One of his hands found his way to my clit, rubbing crazed circles as he pounded in me, moaning.

- I have to say I love my choice of music - I teased at his moaning. He just kissed me harder, pushed harder, rubbed faster, making me unravel as well under his ministrations. Waves of warm pleasure rocking me whole.

[mariamermaid]

I put a spell on you

Sherlock Holmes (19th century) x fem dancer Reader

Summary: After his brother´s persuasion, Sherlock agrees to go to the Ballet with him and is mesmerized by the dancer…

Words: 1.9k

A/N: This is more for the movies/ enola holmes movie, since it´ll take place in the late 19th century. I´m not too familiar with the ballet, so let´s ignore the accuracy.

 Halloween Masterlist

 Théophile Gautier´s ballet “Giselle” was an absolute success. Even years after the ballet was first performed in Paris, the London theater decided to bring the play back. An act that brought Mycroft Holmes into liberating excitement, much to his brother´s concern. The fog these days laid thick in London and Sherlock, who had just solved an exhausting case, that ended with a dangerous pursuit, in which he broke his arm, wasn´t practically excited. But the younger brother wasn´t left with many options. “God, Sherlock, what happened this time?”

Mycroft pointed towards his arm, hanging in a sling to his side, above his shirt. The jacket was loosely thrown on top of his shoulders, Sherlock shrugged not paying much attention to Mycroft´s needless worries. Around him were a few men gathered and Sherlock found himself falling for simple, but plain and boring small talk. Sighing, he followed his brother into the hall and braced himself for boring hours. But then, the classical music started, Sherlock expected it to be the best part, until he saw you entering the stage. It was the first act and you played the Giselle in the village. Giselle was portrayed as a young, innocent but endearing girl. The white long tutu graced your figure perfectly and throughout the act, you danced across the stage with ease. The forester Hilarion and the prince Albrecht are both in love with Giselle, but after Hilarion unmasks Albrecht´s disguise as a farmer, the girl is led into a disaster. Heartbroken after finding out about Albrecht’s true identity, she falls into his sword and dies. In that scene, Sherlock found himself clinging onto the seat and when the light went out to announce the break, he realized how hard he had grabbed the armrests. His tongue slid across his lips, trying to relax his jaw. He then joined his brother and his entourage outside at the bar for a drink, but the picture of you in the white tutu floating across the stage as if it was nothing, didn´t left his mind. “She´s stunning”, he admitted and the men around him nodded.

“Who? Y/n, she´s a natural”, Mycroft added slightly smiling. “You know her?” Sherlock asked interested and the men echoed in laughter. William Grey, a friend of Mycroft and well-known man in London, grinned. “Your brother, Mr. Holmes, is one of the many men running after Miss Y/L/N.”

Mycroft cleared his throat, he hated admitting that he failed. “I never ran after her.” To Sherlock´s despise, the topic was then dropped. He wanted, no he needed more information about you. While the men gathered for a second round of whiskey, Sherlock did what he did best; research and investigate. He unobtrusively glided through the doors leading to the rooms behind the stage. And there you stood, one hand against the wooden bar and practicing your posture. You had changed costumes, after Giselle´s death, you now wore a blood red tutu and your lips were painted in the same color. Sherlock felt goosebumps raising on his skin, in the soft light of the mere headlights behind the stage, the dry dust floating in the air, you did indeed like a ghost. But a stunning ghost, so beautiful, Sherlock just stopped in his tracks to stare at you.

A man, who worked behind the scenes and was just arranging a background piece, bumped against Sherlock. “Man, don´t stand around!” He eyed Sherlock suspiciously. “No spectators behind the stage”, he added and his low went low. “I…” He didn´t know what to answer, his eyes were still glued onto you. A man, as far as Sherlock guessed he was the regisseur, came to talk you and you nodded to whatever he was saying. You then turned to get your hair checked again, but you noticed the unknown man standing around. His tall figure with his neat clothes, his eyes meeting yours. For a second, you stood still, admiring his dark locks and his angular features. But then you remembered the work and disappeared within the crowd of people running around. “Didn´t you hear what I just said?” Sherlock jerked, as the man spoke up again, louder and clearly angry.

“Sorry, I must´ve taken a wrong door somewhere.”

As quick as he appeared behind the stage, he vanished again. Sherlock found his seat next to his brother, who eyed him confused. “Where have you been?” Luckily, the lights went out before he could think of an excuse.

 The second act started, the forester Hilarion waits at Giselle´s death bed, until the nature ghosts and their queen Myrtha appear to welcome Giselle in their realm. Sherlock couldn´t tear his eyes of you, you were pale with powder and your once white gown, was now black as the night. Albrecht finds the ghost as well and follows Giselle into the woods. Myrtha and her wilas, dance around Hilarion until he drops with exhaustion and dies. Myrtha shortly after finds Albrecht, but he is protected by Giselle´s love. At dawn, the queen loses her power and Giselle forgives Albrecht, before she vanishes.

The whole act was preposterous, the dance of the dead ghosts and in between them; you. Sherlock saw the light of life in your eyes glistening. You looked magical to him; he couldn’t describe any other way. The hall echoed with applause and Sherlock even joined in the standing ovation, your performance was outstanding. He then waited outside with his brother again; some men with wife´s went home, but Sherlock waited with anticipation. It was almost an hour later, when he finally saw you. The stage make-up was gone and you looked exhausted, but happy. You had a coat thrown over your shoulder and a dark red, rather simple dress. Your hair was loosened, but remained closed. People quickly approached you, congratulating on the success and praising your abilities and talent. But you had spotted Mycroft within the crowd, and with him the man who had caught your attention earlier. You slipped away and made your way to them. “Mycroft.” You smiled as he greeted you, leaning down and placing a delicate kiss on your hand. “Y/N, extraordinary and perfect as always.” A faint blush was on your cheeks, but then your glance wandered to Sherlock.

“Who is your companion, Mycroft?” It was almost awkward, how Sherlock couldn´t do anything but stand around and stare at you, his brother chuckled. The sight was rare, but welcomed for him. “You´ve heard of him, my brother Sherlock!” A grin crept on your rosy lips and you put out your hand to greet him as well. Sherlock could´ve punched himself, a lady like you holding her hand out first; what kind of gentleman he was! He took it softly and did his brother equal, placing a kiss on your hand. “Mr. Holmes, are you working on a case right now?” Sherlock stopped, raising his eyebrow confused.

“It seemed like you nosed around behind the stage in the break, are you looking for a thief?” The assumption you made was perfectly fine, but your tone stated differently. You knew he wasn´t there for a case and Mycroft snickered. “You have to excuse my brother, Y/n. Snooping around runs in his veins.” Sherlock breathed out, a slight annoyance rising. He didn´t like the way his brother was able to interact with you, not unless he was able to do so as well.

Mycroft changed the subject; “My birthday, Y/n, next week, I hoped you would come?” Your eyes left Sherlock and jealousy rose in him, a feeling he wasn´t very familiar with. “I have a performance, but I will try to sneak away afterwards.”

William Grey interrupted your group, saying his goodbye´s for the evening and you cleared your throat. “I´m going home as well, training and rehearsals are getting the better of me.” For once this night, Sherlock was quicker than his brother. “Can I walk you home, Miss Y/L/N?”

You grabbed your bag a little tighter, hanging over your shoulder and he noted how hard to read your expression was. “I don´t need a man to protect me, Mr. Holmes. But I´m willing to let you accompany me in exchange for some details about your solved cases, I´m quite a fan if you will.” Sherlock smiled and tilted his head proudly.

“So, you recognized the murderer due to his shoes?” You asked interested as the two of you walked through the dark streets of London. The light from the lanterns fell softly to the ground, but the air laid silent. It was late, barely any light left in most houses. Sherlock nodded, lurking down to you. “That´s fascinating, Mr. Holmes.” “You can call me Sherlock.”

For the first time, you actually blushed. “Willing to solve some riddles for me, Sherlock?” A shiver ran down his spine as you called him by his name, but he nodded. “When the water comes down, it rains. I go up, what am I?” Sherlock paused for a second, but a grin spread on his lips. “An umbrella.”

“I can fly but I have no wings. I can cry but I have no eyes.” “A cloud.”

"I dance as the night rises and a wooden pole accompanies me; what am I?” He chuckled confident.

“A ballerina.”

You stopped on the street and behind you laid a park, dark and the silhouettes of trees and bushes rose like giants in the night. “A witch, Mr. Holmes. A witch on her broom.”

Sherlock stopped in his tracks, behind you walked a black cat and the coincidence let him shiver. He usually wasn´t a superstitious type, but you were not to be underestimated; he was sure of it. He swallowed realizing how you had been able to distract him from the logical solution. “As far as I´m concerned, I have bewitched your mind, Sherlock.” From your coat you pulled out a notepad, his notepad. All notes on previous cases and current observations were written down. “How-“

“For a detective, you´re not very good at sneaking around, behind the stage.” You fell into his word, before he was able to ask questions. He wondered how on earth you had stolen his notepad, maybe due to his lack of movement with the broken arm? You were absolutely right however; you did drive him insane. Laughing, you held his notepad still up. “Don´t worry, you´ll get your notes back, if you solve my last riddle.”

His tongue glided over his lips. “A party, but the ballerina doesn´t want to dance.”

He anticipated more, but you closed your mouth, grinning. “I´ll see you next week, Sherlock.”

Sherlock hadn´t realized that you had reached your destination and you turned to leave him standing in the middle of the street. “How did you steal my notes?”

You laughed out loud as you hurried into a dark alley, he guessed that the entrance to your apartment laid there.

“I put a spell on you, Sherlock Holmes.”

He hurried after you, but as he entered the alley, a dead end as he realized, you were gone. There was no door and no windows at the wall surrounding him, you had basically vanished into thin air. Sherlock smiled in excitement; the evening turned out so much better than he ever imagined. He lit himself a pipe and strolled to his own home. A party, but the ballerina doesn´t want to dance, your words repeated in his mind. I´ll see you next week. Mycroft´s birthday party and you don´t want to dance. What does a lady do, that gets invited by someone, who she doesn´t want to dance with? She arrives accompanied by a different man.