#i should go and get my life together instead of shitposting from now on

[chimerapartyhouse]

Got to experiance the Pen's Marriage mod quest and HOLY WHAT THEY DID AN AMAZING JOB. It has inspired so much brainrot in me now that I can have my true pairing together again. The two together simultaneously make each other feral and calmer. So I'm dumping the shitposts I wrote here.

Ruber-Roseus says:

"Was told yer were beating up inmates constantly. Why they'd think letting yer near anyone was a good idea I don't know... (quietly) Good lad." 

"Oh look, I get to return the favour finally. We're now a couple who wears matching clothes. Congrats." 

"Gunna need two copies of yer book. One for yer to sign, the other ta bash yer nogging with." 

"Hate to break it to yer Honey, but the big not-bandit has the hots for me. Take from that info what yer want." 

"...Yes, I would love to sit on yer back as you do push ups. Missed you." 

"People in town refuse to talk to me cause of this mess. Thanks by the way."

(Pen trying to bite him in public) "Bad dog!" 

"I should 'ave asked Avery for a paycheck for this." 

"I'D THROW YA TO THE PERIPHERIES BUT THEN I'D FEEL BAD FOR EVERY LIVING THING THERE!" 

"That's it, hold my hand. I'm not letting go till yeh behave." 

"Grace is going to kill me if Logan doesn't first." 

"Get OFF ME. SomEONE here actually has a job that pays BILLS."

"Yes, you're hot. Yes, I love your muscles, looks, hair, jawline, voice. All your stuff. But please behave in public, you've traumatised Burgess more than enough already." 

"I would threaten to tie you up but I know that's not a threat to you." 

"Fine, instead I'll tie you up, have my fun, and leave you there." (Threat works.) 

"Been wanting to introduce you to my Ma but what would I even tell her now?!" 

"Let me sit on your lap and cuddle me, Kitten. Work was exhausting." 

"If you get us banned from the Blue Saloon one day I will never forgive you." 

"Honey, please get yer hand off me ass." 

Pen forgoing his usual tracksuit for more revealing clothing cause he's cover in certain kinds of bruises. 

(Pull out a stool, places it in front of Pen, stands on it.) "Now listen here ya little-" 

"You're lucky I love you so much, and that others hold me back, or else I'd be the one in prison." 

Finding Ruber passing out at stupid times from exhaustion turns from funny to sad real fast. Worse so when Pen learns why it keeps happening. 

"I can't even torture you in normal ways. I could threaten suffocation and you'd just go 'mh, yes please'."

"It is an actual miracle that no one has seriously tried to separate us. Maybe we mellow each other out enough that it's not worth it." 

"I wonder if it's possible to teach Rosy how to cook cause I'm scared of what you'll do to my precious kitchen if you use it." 

(Pen and Rosy getting envious of each other.) "Ladies, I love you both dearly."

Punishes Pen by slipping in really hot chilli pepper into his food. Not Duvos Pepper levels, but it does the job when he's done something seriously bad. 

"Something may have slipped out during a talk with Pablo. So sorry if the town acts weirder than usual soon." 

"For the last time, stop reading that damn book my Ma gave ya! I thought you didn't want kids anyway?!" 

"You can big-talk all you want, you've still never beaten me at whack-a-mole." 

"Sorry, being pretty is exhausting." (Collapses into Pen's arms.) 

"There are days where I wonder, 'what if?'. And then see your ass and immediately dismiss the idea." Pen: Do you mean me or my- (muffled squeak) "I mean your glorious globes." (Slapped his ass.) 

Ruber laying his head on Pen's chest. "You can say your heart is unbeating all you want. I can hear it calling for me." 

"If you make one more 'rabbit in heat' joke I'm sending you back to prison." 

"My Crystal, I promise I'm no longer interested in Justice. If it helps, I would have kicked your ass to the curb long ago if it were the case. You can also talk to Pablo too, that man will never stop interfering with my love life." 

"Snow Leopard, Pablo and Vivi agreed to help me make a new custom wardrobe for yer. It's your turn to be the dress up doll."

[bisluthq]

Situationship Anon here! I stick to your advice and didn't go to the party. It was not worth it. And going away for a few days might actually be the best idea in this situation.

ya see I often do/did what you almost did. I psych myself up into what is almost definitely a bad plan by convincing myself it's the obviously best plan. I come up with a myriad creative excuses. Like "I have to go to this party because it's such a good networking opportunity!!!" but lbr you just want to see MP guy lmao and it's all - all of it - gonna cause more drama. You're in this social circle anyway so it's past that "the people you know" stage, because these people know of you, so when they get your CV it won't MATTER if you had one cool convo at a party with them or if they're just like "oh yea this girl" ykwim? And the odds of fucking up and making a mess at the party and the people being like "oh yeah THAT messy ass bitch" when they get your CV were/are too great lol. So that's what I thought and I'm glad you did that. I genuinely wish I'd avoided soooo many situations that I'd psyched myself into by giving myself bogus rationalisations of why I must do that. A fair number of those decisions involved going to parties I definitively should NOT have gone to, where I inevitably got a bit too drunk and a bit to a lot annoying. I wish I'd... slowed down and been like "wait, why?" lol.

Going away, if you can afford it, is the best idea imo. Turn your phone off. You can take your laptop or iPad or whatever if you like and then just remove WhatsApp and/or close messages on that so you can still browse the internet and shitpost and whatnot on fandom accounts if you like and read the news but you're not embroiled in irl drama. Give yourself a bit of time away from this whole situation and see what your gut says at the end. And also remember: you don't have to have it all figured out. You don't have to know what you want from MP guy, or what he wants from you/all those other bitches, you almost definitely can do better than a guy who keeps giving you STIs (fun fact: my dad gave my mum a treatable STI five million years ago lollllll so ya I mean idk I feel like y'all women can do better lmao), but also if you want him then... ok.

I'd just be careful to see if you really want HIM or if you're just really deep in the situation. And that's something I'm investigating in MY OWN situation currently right because I'm oscillating between "I miss him so much I'm going to die" and "idgaf I only truly loved the house" and "we can be friends and I can manage the Airbnb and I don't care if he dates again super soon (which he will if we don't get back together)" and "I need to delete him from all social media and block the fuck out of him because I will DIE if I see him with another woman" and the truth is probably somewhere in between allllll those things so I'm... slowing down and doing nothing. I'm actually still talking to him on WhatsApp but I'm not DOING anything and I'm not pushing it. I can't go away away because of the way the job is, right, and how it's a contract, and how I get paid per day worked and not a salary, and how if I quit now it will be a big mess, but IF I WERE IN A SALARIED JOB, that's what I'd have done. I'd have gone away for a week or so and done other things.

My situation is obviously different to yours in various other ways too, besides the job thing - I relate to yours though lol prob not as much as my mum and stepmum would looooollllllll - but my advice to EVERYONE right now is just STOP. SLOW DOWN. STOP DOING STUFF. Think it through properly. If you still want to do it, okay. Do it. Remember that you can't actually predict the outcome tho, so you might do it and it might not work out how it was meant to in your head. Which is part of life. You've got to accept that. But at least when you've properly thought it through, it's like "oh okay, I tried" instead of a constant stream of idk panic.

[chronichlesofnillory]

Very much the same! I tend to explain it as everything I do comes and goes like seasons and sometimes you need to let certain things rest so you can bring new things to it later. I'm very much like this with pretty much every aspect of my life from crafting to cooking and baking to my magic.

The three things that worked for me were:

+ Make sure you have magic that isn't all ritual and isn't all buried in steps and things that you have to remember. I know there's that timeless sort of shitpost sort of serious "is stirring intention in your coffee magic?" but yes, if that's what gets you doing magic it's magic. Doing magic for me is talking to things, it's "oh I keep having this dream or image pop into my head, maybe that's something I should sort of just go with and see where it ends up". There's a lot of people who get a lot out of studying and reading and taking notes and treating their magic like a college class and if that works for you that's great (seriously! It is great to find what works for you) but I need breaks.

+ If you want to write stuff down for later treat it like you would a recipe you would find by one of those bloggers who has the 15 paragraphs about their grandma's favorite porcelain frog in their frog collection, and they write every step to the meal like you've never cooked a day in your life. It might feel weird or silly writing why you're using basil instead of rosemary in the margins or whatever, but if it means that it somehow jogs your memory or re-teaches you something do it. If you need to remember where the spell came from and what mindset you were in and the life events that were taking place, write it down. You could have audio files you link in a digital grimoire, or link the youtube videos or instagram posts or whatever that inspired you. Sometimes taking notes that actually link all the pieces together make you remember more.

+ When you do "study" or get super in the moment into magic, do the stuff that you actually like because you're more likely to keep up with it or remember it when you come back to it. I always have to re-teach myself crochet every 3 years because I dislike doing it, but I still want some crochet things so I just save it all up until I huff and puff and go "okay fine, it's now." But sewing both hand and machine I remember no matter how much time, same with embroidery or clay or chain maille or playing certain video games or making certain recipes. Because I have little youtube playlists or websites that act as "refreshers" and I like doing those things, if I haven't done chain maille in 5 years I can watch one video and instantly be able to make you a Byzantine bracelet or dragonscale piece. So if you're spending your time reading or doing magic that is just meh to you and you're not excited about it, not only will you burn out fast but you're not going to remember it. If you don't like energy work or working with crystals or wicca or traditional magic or only doing protection magic just do other stuff!

I really wanna engage with my practice more, I tend to get phases where I’m really into something and then drop it and forget anything I learned by the time I come back, it makes me feel like a perpetual beginner

Surely I’m not the only one?

[dreamcatcherrs]

mcyts reaction to you flinching during an argument

TW; slight mention of abuse, angst

+ sad boi hours; open

++ for all of you angst lovers<3

song recommendation: start//end - EDEN

dream:

when he yelled something at you, wanting some sort of response from you and you didn’t give it to him, he grabbed you by your arm angrily and pulled you close to him.

you flinched away from him, turning your head away in reflex to what his next move might be.

he would immediately let go of you, taking a step back. he would just look at you, heart dropping at the fact that you thought he’d ever do something to hurt you in any way.

would feel disappointed with himself even days after the incident, and would even doubt if him being with you was a good thing at all, where you’d have to reassure him for him to eventually forget about it.

georgenotfound:

you and george were having a disagreement about something, keeping a close proximity to each other throughout the argument.

after having raised his voice, he would be lifting his hand to move hair out of his face. and that’s when you flinched, closing your eyes thightly.

george honestly wouldn’t know what to do. he’d just be standing there, stuck in place out of shock. eventually, he’d gently grab your hand, scared to touch your face in case you’d flinch again.

he’d talk to you about how he’d never hurt you, and asked if there was some deeper reason as to why you’d flinched so easily.

sapnap:

he would be so angry at himself, and would probably, before you could even stop him, storm out of the house to clear his mind and think about what he’d just done.

when he came back, he would hug you so hard, tears streaming down his face and repeating phrases like “I’m so sorry” and “I’d never hurt you”.

he’d make sure you knew just how much he loved you, and that you had no reason to ever flinch away from him again. cuddle sessions are a definite yes after an incident like this.

badboyhalo:

oh my god, when I tell you this mans’ heart would break into a million pieces-

he’d crush your body in his arms, coddling you so tightly to him whilst whispering sweet words into your ear. he would feel so crushed.

the poor guy would be crying😖

after that, he would try his best to avoid getting into arguments, or at least avoid ever raising his voice at you again.

technoblade:

would feel really hurt that you thought he’d hit you. lowkey a little disappointed about how you flinched so easily just by him raising his hand slightly, but would push the selfish thought aside and talk to you about it calmly, even though the action had really hurt him.

he wasn't a violent person, and he thought you knew that.

he doesn't want to send you down a guilt trip or anything, but he just feels so… lost? makes him doubt wether you trust him and he could think about it for literal weeks, because he’d have a hard time talking about it.

wilbur soot:

runs a hand over his face, wide eyes staring back at you in shock. it takes him a moment to realise that you had just flinched because of him. that you'd acted out in a way people who are scared do. he doesn't really know what to do at first - he doesn't want to cause more damage.

“y/n…” he trails off, lifting a hand slowly towards you, afraid that he’ll scare you away. the last thing he’d ever want is for you to be scared of him.

he cant just stand there, and he can tell that all you really need right now is some comfort, so he’ll just grab you and pull you right into his arms, apologising over and over again and assuring you that he'd never make you flinch again.

skeppy:

he would be really confused.

like, he would just be standing there with a confused expression on his face until you looked up at him again. 

“did you think I was going to hit you?”

his bottom lip would tremble, and his heart would just be pounding out of his chest.

he’d feel better once you comforted him and told him that you just flinch easily, but he would still think about it sometimes when he looked at you.

karl jacobs:

his eyes would widen, quickly trying to reach out and touch you, only realising that the reason you flinched was because you didn’t want him to touch you. because you’d felt a reason to lift your hands in front of you in defence.

instead he would clasp his hand over his mouth, feeling tears well up in his eyes. and just let out a sob.

and that’s when you quickly ran to comfort him, going down with him when he fell onto his knees.

would profusely be mumbling sorries between sobs. that moment would scar him for a long time ;-;

fundy:

would immediately take you into his arms. he pushed aside how much it hurt to know that you could ever be scared of him, because you came first.

lots of back rubbing and cheek kisses - he would be very worried that you flinched because someone had actually hit you before you eve met him or something along those lines.

would apologise for scaring you and wipe tears away from your cheeks if you were crying.

would have a long conversation with you about it afterwards.

quackity:

would back away from you.

he didn’t know what the fuck to do. if he should comfort you or back the hell away. so he chose the safest option, seeing as you had clearly shown a sign of defence.

you would kinda just look at each other for a while.

“I- did you just-” he would cut himself off trying to form the right sentence.

“baby, I wouldn't hit you. you know I wouldn't… right?”

punz:

like sapnap, he would take off, leaving you in confusion and hurt about how you had so easily reacted like that.

he wanted to be there for you, but he knew that he needed to clear his mind and think about what had just happened before he could do that. once he was outside, he would yell at the top of his lungs, letting out his pain through doing so.

when he entered again, he would start talking about how he was such a dick and should be more careful with the way he moves and that he wouldn't ever hurt you or anything like that.

would ramble on until you shut him up, assuring him that there was no reason to be angry or upset. it would definitely calm him down, but he wouldn't be able to sleep very well that night knowing that he had made you flinch so badly.

awesamdude:

sam is just very shocked. and confused… and generally feels a lot of emotions washing over him all at once. the anger was still there, but he could hold it back for a while if it meant being able to wipe that expression off your face.

with furrowed brows he gently cups your cheeks, relieved when you didn't try to pull away or anything like that. he wouldn't really talk directly about it right then, but rather comforts you. you are his number one priority right now.

“hey, hey, hey. it’s okay, I’m here.” and then just hugs you and lets you cry it out on his shoulder. will talk to you about it later and eventually resolve your previous argument. makes sure you never flinch at him again.

corpse husband:

corpse knows he can get pretty heated in arguments, but to make you flinch… he’d never seen that one coming, and honestly, it would hit him like a truck. he would stumble over is own words, hands clamming to you protectively, only to move away again as he realised the one who he had to protect you from was himself. 

would beat himself up about it a lot afterwards. like, he’d think about that look on your face and just space out, which you would notice of course cause his brows would knit together and he’d look so fucking sad. he’d just be scared to do it again.

eret:

it was the worst thing he'd ever witnessed. you can almost hear his heart crack right into two pieces. he’d just look at you with sad, bulging puppy eyes until you moved to look at him again with guilt dancing in your eyes once seeing his.

“y/n, I… I would never hit you.”

I feel like he could cry depending on how bad the argument had been, but overall he is just very very sad. wouldn't be able to hold back even if he was scared of making you flinch again, and would just hold you. until you were ready to talk about it, he’d be right there with his hands clinging onto you for dear life.

______________________________________

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[ellohcee]

HEY HEY. BLOODY NOSE AND SPEED DATING AND SINGLE DAD

HEEEEY okay okay these got little bit hella long so I am putting them under the cut~

Bloody nose is one I posted briefly then deleted for some reason? But I joked about this because of some shitpost I saw and like usual I said "oh Jasper" and doodled it yeah but I wrote it too! So here's a bit of it and I'm now realizing it's not really a WIP since I considered it I guess done when I posted the whole thing but here it is anyway~

Jasper likes to think he’s pretty easy going most of the time. He likes to let things roll off instead of getting annoyed or flustered, he just doesn’t see the point in stressing over most things especially the stuff you can’t control. Sure, maybe it’s to a fault sometimes but mostly it’s a good thing to be so chill! It makes life easier, and he’s kind of proud of his ability to keep his shit together.

Most of the time, being the key phrase.

And this ability happens to leave him under certain circumstances, like seeing a really cute guy across the street. He’s paused, standing out of the way as he looks at something on his phone, one knuckle of his free hand held against his chin as if thinking intently about something. Jasper can’t help but stare just a bit, just a little tiny bit because he’s… god he’s cute. He wishes he was on that side of the street to get a better look at him. Not that he has any kind of excuse or the balls to talk to the man but he can admire!

And then the man looks up, meeting his gaze and doing the emotional and mental equivalent of a car coming straight for him as Jasper’s brain freezes up from being caught staring, his heart doing a funny little skip, his breath catching-

-and his face smashing into a fucking telephone pole like hello who put this here!!

He stumbles back, nearly tripping on an uneven bit of the sidewalk and eating further shit in front of the cute stranger but he keeps upright despite the pain in his face and the stars blooming in front of his eyes as he feels a wetness start to roll down from his nose. The pain is already stark, radiating from his nose throughout the rest of his face in waves that make him dizzy as his ears ring a little from the sudden impact.

Sometimes he pauses and thinks to himself ‘why me’ and follows it up with ‘of course me why not’ because that’s just his luck sometimes. This is what he gets for being a creep and staring at some random dude across the street who’s just trying to mind his own business, and here he is ogling-

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?? You’re bleeding!”

He blinks, scrunching his nose briefly before making what must be an even worse expression as he sucks in a pained breath. He then comprehends that this someone is probably talking to him since it sure does feel like he’s got a gusher of a nosebleed and sure he had just walked face first into a goddamn telephone pole and again who in the ever loving fuck put that there when he was busy looking at-

He lets out a funny noise as he realizes the cute redhead he’d been staring at is no longer across the street and is now right next to him, looking at him in concern with a hand on Jasper’s shoulder, looking ten times as cute up close with all his freckles and his pretty green eyes -or are they teal?- and he looks really genuinely concerned. This isn’t the way he would’ve liked to start a conversation but this is apparently happening right here and right now.

It feels a little like he’s been shoved into rush hour traffic but somehow he’s gone into chill mode anyway.

“I’m fine, don’t even worry about it,” Jasper says with a wave, tasting blood as it runs down over his lip, sharp and strong, and he pulls the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand and swipes a little at the mess before pressing it lightly just under his nose to catch the trail.

“Are you sure? You should really sit down somewhere! Here, come with me,” the ginger insists, gently directing him around the stupid pole and towards a Starbucks and hopefully no one inside saw his totally uncool collision but what does that really matter when his cute stranger already saw the whole thing, what more dignity is there to lose? At this point being embarrassed feels useless, he’s just gonna roll through this mess.

On this note Jasper lets himself be led over to the establishment without a fuss, but still trying to assure the man. “It’s totally chill dude, really,” he soothes, feeling blood soak further along his sleeve, some of it starting to dry on his face where he’d smeared it, tasting it on his tongue. “It’s not broken or anything.”

“All the same, you really should sit for a minute and get some ice on that,” the ginger replies, opening the door with one hand and leading Jasper inside with the other still on his shoulder. He directs Jasper over to an empty table, pulling a chair out and guiding him to sit. A few of the patrons stare at him in curiosity, and he merely tilts his head calmly in a kind of ‘sup’ gesture, and they look away.

--

SPEED DATING! Idk how this came up but I thought hey wouldn't that be cute and the idea of JAsper just disrupting things in a very Jasper way is always good

David sighs as the bell rings and his current partner leaves without a word. He was already regretting that he allowed Gwen to talk him into this speed dating thing, and with each awkward interaction it gets stronger. He thought nothing ill of any of the women he’d sat with so far, but he knows he’s honestly not the type of man they were hoping to find here. And to be honest, lately he’s been leaning more towards-

“Mind if I uh, sit here?”

David looks up in surprise at the voice, seeing a man with his hand resting casually on the back of the chair. He’s a little red in the face, hesitant but hopeful, and this certainly is a surprise, but a good one all the same. “Oh, please go ahead,” he says, earning a nervous grin from the man as he sits.

“Thanks,” he says, scooting his chair. “Jasper,” he introduces.

“David,” the ginger replies, growing more and more hopeful. He hadn’t anticipated finding any gay men at this event, but this one seems to have him on radar. “Are you…” he trails off, unsure of how to ask. He feels he shouldn’t need to ask, it is a dating event after all so if Jasper wants to sit with him that should mean there’s interest, but he’s been burned one too many times.

“Bi,” Jasper fills in with a grin, not seeming to mind the questiom. “I’ve uh… been thinking about trying to snag a seat with you, finally decided to just go for it, and if I’m reading wrong I’ll just retreat with my pride only mildly damaged,” he teases.

“Oh,” David says in surprise. “Well I- I’m bi too,” he says, making Jasper’s smile widen. “I hadn’t expected…”

“Me neither,” Jasper replies. “My gaydar’s not the most reliable, but I’m glad I took my chances.”

David chokes on a laugh, smiling. “I am too,” he says happily. “My friend talked me into this, she figured it was the next best thing since I’m too nervous to go to any bars...”

“Heeey that’s chill, bar surfing’s not for everyone, even ones where you’re more guaranteed of being with your people,” Jasper assures him. “That’s not my scene either, too loud for me.”

They chat for a few minutes, and David feels himself relaxing as the moments go by, it’s much more natural and comfortable than the previous conversations he’s had tonight. There’s something about Jasper, he’s just so easy going and friendly. The women who’d sat with him until now gave the impression of being stuck with him as their last choice. But Jasper sought him out on purpose, maybe that’s why their conversation is so easy. It’s hard to make small talk when one half of the table is just counting down until they can change seats.

Way too quick for their liking, the bell rings and people begin to shuffle. Jasper hesitates, and David feels his heart sink.

“Rotate couples, come on!”

Jasper clicks his tongue in annoyance, probably because the host is looking at him specifically, likely trying to burn a hole through his skull with sheer will alone. “Well, it was rad chatting with you. Maaaybe I’ll wind up at your table again,” he suggests hopefully.

“I’d like that,” David smiles.

Jasper grins back in delight.

“That means you table twelve!”

“Bite me,” Jasper says petulantly with a brief but dirty look at the host, standing up and wandering over to a new seat with one last glance at the ginger.

David watches him go, almost missing that someone else is taking the empty seat. He pastes on a smile and introduces himself…

Throughout the night, Jasper makes his way to David’s table whenever he can, which is not hard unless someone sits at his table first before he can get away. After their third chat, the host actually stops Jasper in the shuffle where he’s on his way to David again, begging him to sit with someone else.

“What, is it against the rules?” he challenges, not aggressive, but a little peeved that he’s being held up.

“Well- no- but that’s the point of getting twenty men and twenty women,” the host tries to reason. “It’s off balance now and the women that are left over are uncomfortable...”

“Well no offense to them but now they know how us sad little gays feel,” Jasper quips cheerfully. “You can kick me out if you want, but then you’ll still be off balance. PLUS it’d be kinda super uncool and come off as a little kinda homophobic if you do,” he shrugs casually, practically batting his eyes.

The host huffs, waving his hands in annoyance. “Fine, fine!”

“Sorry to pull that card, I know you’re just tryin to run your event, but I found a good match,” Jasper grins, heading towards said match’s table. “Hey, job well done!” he calls over his shoulder, giving the exasperated host double thumbs up as he makes his way to David.

“Heya stranger!” he greets as he parks it in the empty chair across from the ginger, looking accomplished.

“Did you get in trouble?” David teases playfully.

“Yeah I got a little talking to, but we’re chill now, my stubbornness won out and we came to an understanding,” Jasper grins, winking.

David giggles softly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

--

AND finally SINGLE DAD- I just love the idea of David trying to navigate the idea of dating because he totally does want his kid's approval but ALSO because Max can be a little ticking time bomb and he's sweatin it a little-

“Max,” David says carefully, making the boy look up from his dinner with a suspicious glare.

“What,” he deadpans, hearing the tone immediately and knowing A Conversation is going to be had.

“I was just wondering… what you thought of Jasper,” David says, trying to be casual. “You two seem to get on well.”

“He’s annoying,” Max grumbles flatly, making David’s heart drop, the beginnings of dread creeping in.

“What?”

“His jokes are stupid and he dresses like he found his shit out of a thirty year old dumpster behind some shitty store that went out of business… But. Other than that he’s fine I guess, whatever,” Max shrugs, seeing some of David’s fear start to recede. “You like him,” he says blandly.

David’s face warms, and he looks down at his food. “Yes.”

“So ask him on a date already, jesus,” Max sighs with a roll of his eyes, taking a bite of food.

David’s heart races, looking back up at his son. “Really? You would… be okay with it?”

“You don’t need my permission,” the boy shoots back.

“But I want it,” David says carefully, making Max pause and look up from his dinner. “Max, you’re my son, and I absolutely care what you think and how you feel, including about people I may bring into your life. I don’t want you to agree because you feel you have no say in it. I want to know if you’re actually okay with Jasper. If you could… see him in the picture with us.”

Max stares at him for a long moment, quietly shocked. Even though David has thrown him little curve balls like this time and time again, it never fails to surprise him when he’s treated like a human with feelings and opinions, not just a stupid child. His old parents, while not terrible, had often brushed aside his opinions and protests like most adults he’d met. Telling him he’s too young, he’s just a kid, he doesn’t know. But David is different, and after two years it still throws him off.

Finally, he lets out a sigh that’s almost a laugh. “Yeah yeah, whatever, date him,” he says calmly. “Maybe he can divert some of your annoying ass chipper self away from me and onto him instead,” he smirks, making David laugh.

“Aw Max, I love you kiddo,” he says in delight, taking another bite of his dinner and feeling both at peace and excited. He’d been scared of Max having objections to the idea of him dating, bringing a potential parental figure into his life, but the boy surprises him sometimes. Thankfully this is one of those times.

Now the other monumental task…

Asking Jasper out.

- - - -

“Hey, Jasp,” David says nervously, his face already warming a little.

“Hey dudeski,” Jasper replies, handing him an iced coffee as he sits.

“Oooh, thank you,” David says happily, the simple gift distracting him from his nerves a little as he takes a sip. “Wow, this is good! Where’d you get it?”

“Okay, you’re cool so I’m gonna let you in on my secret, but this stays between us,” Jasper says in a quiet, but dramatic voice as he leans in. “The gas station next to Wendy’s, downtown.”

“Really? A gas station?” David says in surprise.

“Again, hush hush, I can’t have the whole world movin’ in on my coffee spot,” Jasper insists firmly, making David laugh.

“Of course, your secret’s safe with me,” he says with a big smile, his heart fluttering at the way Jasper grins back a him, and he feels like now is the time. He’s nearly certain Jasper likes him back, but the nerves have been eating him up. Max had watched him pace for nearly ten minutes before finally tossing a throw pillow from the couch at him.

He takes a little sip of the coffee to stall for just another moment, clearing his throat. “Hey… Jas?”

“Sup,” the other man replies curiously, sipping his own coffee.

“I was wondering if… if you’d um.. like to get lunch- or-or dinner or something- sometime, anytime, whenever… with me,” he adds softly, heart thundering.

Jasper stares at him, brows raised where they’d slowly climbed during his stammering, blinking as he slowly sets the coffee down seemingly without realizing it. “Like… like a date?” he asks carefully.

David takes a long breath. “Yes,” he says on the exhale.

Jasper’s face breaks into a silly, crooked smile, his eyes alight and a flush in his cheeks. “Yeah dude, totally!” he says in delight. “But uh- will Max be okay with it?” he asks hesitantly.

“I’ve already asked, I have his blessing,” David says shyly, smiling.

“For real, he’s cool?” Jasper asks in surprise.

“Yes, he says you’re annoying, but I’m allowed,” the ginger says wryly.

“What! Annoying??” Jasper asks, looking stricken and betrayed despite often proclaiming himself annoying. “How? Why?”

“He says it’s your jokes and the way you dress,” David says, his smile widening in delight as Jasper immediately looks down at his shirt, a bright green gecko with pink-rimmed sunglasses looking back at him against the black fabric.

He looks up, a little devastated. “But- this is primo shit! It’s classic!”

David laughs. “For what it’s worth, I like the way you dress, you remind me of an arcade carpet sometimes,” he teases playfully.

“Only sometimes?” Jasper pouts, making David laugh again. “But man, your little dude is major harsh.”

“He can be quite… opinionated,” the ginger says kindly, neutral despite the polite smile on his face. Neutral like leaving out Max’s comment about clothes out of a 30 year old dumpster. “But he did say other than that you’re fine,” he adds wryly, knowing this is the closest Max could get to showing approval. His son was not shy of making his distaste known, so ‘fine’ was a huge win for David.

“Well I’ll take fine, the little man seems hard to win over,” Jasper says, his pout slowly morphing into a goofy smile. “So… a date,” he repeats, sounding pleased.

David goes a little redder. “If you could see yourself dating a single dad of a little hellraiser,” he says softly.

“You and your little hellraiser are pretty cool, I can definitely see it,” Jasper replies, his grin stretching as David’s eyes flicker down to his coffee with a cute smile, looking embarrassed.

He’d definitely not been expecting to be asked out by David today but god damn he’ll take it!

[nastyburger]

public ShortComings right now right now right now right now ri

LMAO I HAVE SUMMONED CONSTELLAJ WITH MY DASH REDEMPTION ARC KLSADJSALKDJALK anyway heres the episode idea under the cut!!!

the premise/start of the episode is similar to its canon counterpart. danny needs to pass an important physical exam and is paired with dash as a fitness buddy to help prepare for it. however, instead of jack just blasting phantom, a ghost, and an innocent bystander outside the house with the shrink ray and promptly fucks off to not deal with the consequences of that, the shrink blaster is introduced early on to danny as a prototype still in the works. it is then left in the lab until it is needed later and the set up for the actual fitness buddy stuff comes into play.

the real deviation from micro management happens when skulker attacks the duo. danny randomly shouts to scatter in opposite directions to throw the ghost off as a thinly veiled excuse to have a place to transform and promptly bolts...... except dash doesnt run in the opposite direction like he was supposed to. danny gets to a secluded area and starts slowing down, like half a second away from going ghost, before being pushed by dash to keep running with skulker following close behind.

while still running for their lives, danny is just like???? why the fuck did you follow me i said scatter????? to which dash promptly says “dude that ghost was definitely chasing you and there’s no way you can out run it, you would’ve been toast.” to further prove the point, danny is unable to shake dash off his tail and actually is struggling to keep up in human form, to the point where dash is practically carrying him while occasionally tossing him ahead to force him to run without falling behind.

danny, realizing that he wont be able to turn into phantom anytime soon, decides “okay change of plans, we’ll do this the human way” and steers dash towards the direction of fentonworks to get ghost weapons instead. they eventually hit the lab and danny starts grabbing ectoguns and starts blasting at skulker who is putting up quite the fight. dash, seeing the struggle, tries to help too. he grabs some guns of his own, but being more unfamiliar with the tech, he grabs a lot of duds or stuff not fully loaded. in his frantic panic, one of the guns dash grabs ends up being the unfinished shrink blaster.

before danny can stop him, the blast goes off but instead of shrinking only the target, it malfunctions and hits everyone in the room and a couple of weapons here and there. the shrink explosion knocks everyone back quite a bit so they’re far away from the gun and idk some bullshit about jack coming in to be like huh that’s weird and taking it somewhere else. shrunken shenanigans ensue.

if danny couldnt get away to transform before, he DEFINITELY cant now (how is he gonna explain disappearing and then having a mini phantom show up lol). so he an dash are stuck together. they grab all the tiny weapons they can and set off, having tiny happenings and that all along the way similarly to canon. the only difference is danny more discreetly using his his powers and covering it up by saying it was fenton tech. it leads to some funny stuff and danny trying to badly lie through his teeth.

this episode builds on both dash’s character and how his view on danny starts to change. this event is sorta the kicker to his whole redemption arc in the nasty reboot timeline, having moments/seeds somewhat sown before this but never full on sprouting until this moment. dash has seen danny hold his own in a fight before, but only in teams, with his friends, and behind weapons (i.e pirate radio) up until this point. as their weapons start to lose ammo and supplies (and, unknown to dash, danny’s powers) dash starts to REALLY see how resourceful and charismatic danny is on his own. all other possible factors are removed here, its just pure, unfiltered, human danny fenton baby!

even when dash has his breakdown similar to canon, the kid he picked on for years still extends a hand and helps him out of it. even when the goal seems so far away like they’ll never make it, danny tells him to press on and keeps moving forward. even when they’re at their wits end and dash cant for the life of him figure out a way out of the situation, danny still!! somehow!!!! does!!!!!!! all these little moments make dash start to fall in love appreciate the skillset and merits danny has all on his own. (theres also like themes of danny learning how to properly balance/maintain both of his lives and learning he has valuable skillsets as fenton too instead of being a useless half in this reboot. dash’s validation is a small part of what encourages danny into realizing his worth. because, hell, if your bully thinks you’re doing alright then thats gotta mean something, right?)

the climax of the episode is when danny is backed into a corner by skulker with no ammo, no powers, and no significant physical strength. but even so, danny decides to go off the deep end by launching himself at skulker and starts smacking the shit out of the ghost with nothing but an empty ectogun and blind gremlin rage.

(exactly like this lol)

in the struggle, danny is doing surprisingly well (which dash absolutely notes in awe) but then at one point, skulker points a weapon in prime position to shoot danny without him noticing. dash panics and rushes to pull fenton off of skulker, but danny, upon realizing what dash is doing, takes opportunity and latches onto skulker’s head trying to pry it off with dash’s combine strength (much to dash’s confusion).

basically, danny manages to rip skulker’s fucking head off (dash is horrified until danny shows him the actual ghost and how his body was just a suit) and sucks up skulker into a spare thermos. the two then use the suit to jet pack them up onto the welding table in the ops center where jack had been tinkering with it.

the shrink blaster had its final fixes implemented in it now, with a reverse switch as well, so danny and dash easily changes back to normal. they share a bit of a moment, similar to phantom and dash in canon. but instead of dash ruining the moment this time, its danny who simply states “well the adrenaline has worn off so i should probably tell you my leg is most likely fractured” before collapsing onto dash. at some point during the tussle with skulker, danny’s leg apparently got scrunched pretty hard to the point of being broken but danny was being too feral in the moment to react right away.

(again, as stated in a previous ask, my shitpost jock protection squad au took various elements from this plotline in the reboot so there will be overlap but its not canon)

because of the broken leg situation, danny is unable to do the test but is allowed to retake it once he recovers. of course, this means dash is still danny’s fitness buddy. this gives an excuse for them to be stuck together for a little longer and so the redemption process begins!!!! (even if danny’s leg technically already healed after a day or so lol)

[river-bottom-nightmare]

“You came.”

No matter how many times Wally said those words, he sounded breathless with excitement every time. With the light of the moon, Dick could see the surprise in his eyes, the lightness in his smile, the way his relief buoyed him up instead of slumping him down. 

“Of course I came. I’ve never failed to show up.”

Dick stepped fully into the clearing, in the middle of the dense wood at the edge of the province. Wally was sitting against a tree, the ground well worn and comfortable. Dick bounced over to him.

Wally shrugged self consciously. “Things are different now, though. After the whole announcement two days ago.”

At mention of that, Dick sighed, and leaned into Wally. Wally opened his arms and let Dick sag into him. “I gave you a heads-up about that. I told you about it the minute they started discussing it in court.”

“I know, I know.” Wally pressed his lips to the crown of Dick’s head, and spoke into his hair. “Thanks for that. I don’t know how I would’ve reacted hearing it from the town crier.”

“Bawled like a baby, most likely.”

Wally shoved Dick lightly. “Me? Never. You on the other hand.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“You were probably on your knees in despair.”

Dick gave Wally a rakish grin. “You like me on my knees, though.”

Wally floundered for a minute, eyes darkening with intent, before he let the teasing moment go. “I do. I don’t like seeing you in despair though. And you’ve been despair far too often for my liking since the annoucement.”

“That’s what started this, didn’t it?” Dick gazed up at Wally. He knew his eyes were keen, and he could look through Wally as easily as still water. Though Wally didn’t have many walls built up around him to begin with, Dick reminded himself, seeing Wally shift uncomfortably. “The announcement.”

“I knew about it, I’d thought about it,” Wally answered. “But hearing it out loud from the crier made it real.”

Dick nodded against Wally’s skin, pressing his lips to Wally’s collarbone briefly.

“Does Barbara know?” Wally asked.

“Probably. She knows practically everything. And she knew this was going to happen, too.”

“Oh did she?” Wally’s voice was suddenly venomous.

“Wally,” Dick sighed. “She’s the daughter of my father’s most trusted advisor, and he used to be a knight. She was always going to be the first choice in my hand of marriage. And she’s my friend.”

“Right, right. I know, sorry.” Wally deflated. “It’s just, well, you were supposed to be mine.”

“We shouldn't have ever become friends in the first place, Walls,” Dick said, softly.

“Do you regret it?”

Dick smiled up at Wally. “What, sneaking out of the palace and meeting the most handsome, clumsy pauper in history? Never.”

Wally made an indignant noise, and Dick laughed in response, pressing closer to his warm body and feeling his arm tighten around Dick’s waist. They sat quietly, moonlight washing over them like a cleansing wave, letting them just be for a while. None of Dick’s royal duties. None of Wally’s daily struggles. No worries about the news of Dick’s engagement to Lady Barbara. Right now, it was just the two of them, Wally pressing soft kisses against Dick’s skin, Dick humming with happiness as he laced their fingers together over and over again.

Of course, Dick should have known Wally could never keep the silence that long. “You remember what I told you? You know, the night you told me about the....” he trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say the word marriage, Dick could see it in his eyes, in the tremble of his lips.

Dick shifted his weight, looping his arms around Wally’s neck and sitting on his lap. “Wally. There is nothing in the world I want more than to run away with you.”

“We could do it, Dick. We could get away with it.” Wally’s fingers played at Dick’s hips. “Uncle Barry’s your father’s messenger. He’s been all across the kingdom, he’d be able to hide us away for sure. We can travel the world together, Dick. Just like we always wanted to, when we were kids.”

“And your parents?”

Wally scoffed. “As if they’d even notice.”

“Wally traveling the world with you is my dream.” Dick leaned forward to press his lips against Wally’s once, gently. “But I can’t follow it, not if my family is on the line.”

“Bruce has four other sons!”

Dick shook his head. “None of them want the throne.”

“Neither do you, Bluebird.”

“But it’s my duty. I can’t leave my family like that, I just can’t.”

Sadness was written in every line of Wally’s face, but he just nodded and pulled Dick closer. “I know you can’t. Your loyalty is something I love about you.”

“Loyalty or stubbornness?”

“Can’t it be both?”

Dick huffed out a laugh. 

Then Wally shifted a little, pushed Dick up so he could look him in the eyes. There was something new in his eyes, something Dick couldn’t place for a minute before it came to him. Recklessness. Dick had seen it play alongside Dick’s own too many times to count, but he’d never seen it directed at him before. “I knew our dream was a last ditch effort. We can’t have what we wanted as children, but we can have a little.”

Dick’s brows furrowed. “Wally? What are you talking about.”

“Spend the night. Please. Stay with me for the night. We can dance and sing and steal food from the bakery. And you can press me into my bed without any thoughts about time running out or duty to the throne.”

Wally’s voice was pleading, nearing desperate near the end. Dick put on a contemplative face, but his mind was made up. “I don’t know, Walls. I’ve got engagements tomorrow. Meetings to finalize the marriage, Bruce giving up the crown.”

“Dick, please.” Wally was begging now, pulling Dick towards him with a bruising grip, eyes scouring Dick’s face as if it was the last time he’d ever see it.

Then Dick let the steel filter into his expression, the stubbornness that Wally so often accused him of. “I’ve given them enough. And I’m about to give up my entire life for them. Tonight and tomorrow are my own.”

And with that note of finality, Dick bent down and kissed Wally the way he’d been wanting to do since he first saw him that night. Searing, passionate, syrupy slow and plunderingly deep, as if they had all the time in the world.

i swear to god when i started this it was supposed to be fluff. tag list:  @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @astroherogirl @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg​

[obutsuwrites]

weak (villain!bakugo x f!reader)

summary: “You… you left me those letters. Why?” Words were intangible and hopeless. The woman’s mind too tainted with dread to form coherency.

“Why? Why?! I’m in love with you,” Ground Zero began, “You’re so fucking stupid. No wonder you didn’t fight me. Too damned weak… and that’s why you need me.” xxx very self indulgent smut with a side of sex pollen and dubcon oops

inspired by this!

word count: 5,394

warnings: yandere elements, non-consensual groping, sex pollen, dubcon, light stalking, loss of virginity, degradation, smut, rough sex

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ko-fi~!

The day began mundanely; a daily commute to work. To a job that slowly sucked away her vitality. ‘Such a bother,’ she thought as tired eyes watched scenery blur into splotches of dull greens and earth tones. Even captivating landscapes failed to bring the office worker to life. A sigh dislodged itself from her, the sound light and careless. Days muddied into weeks. No promotions. No difference in commute. No excitement. Was that what she was looking for?

Her only respite from the banality were the bizarre letters. Originally, there was only one; a heartfelt declaration of love tucked within a neat envelope. The penmanship was precise and delicate, as if the parchment was fragile. Every note was handled with obvious care, but the woman didn’t attempt to reply. There was never a return address and that aspect terrified her; an unwanted admirer brave enough to personally deliver letters. No reply led to hateful scribbles. Scrawled calligraphy that carried declarations of delusion and threats to defile her. Flowery language now replaced with nausea.

The woman shifted in her seat, now unable to get comfortable. Shivers crawled through her veins like electricity. She wanted the letters to stop, but… ‘It’s the only interesting thing I have.’ The thought made her feel pathetic. There was no doubt the sender was a creep -- a real fucking freak, and maybe that was their saving grace. The woman hated the letters. Seeing the bright maroon envelope only brought a sour taste, leaving her mouth salivating. A glint of fear in her eyes and knees weak. And yet, the woman found herself scanning every letter; every affirmation and curse. No two notes were the same. ‘Maybe that’s the excitement of it.’ A smile tugged at her lips.

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

She awoke with a start, an eerie feeling finding residency in her stomach. ‘Did I miss my stop? Did I miss my fucking stop?!’ Small hands scrambled to organize. Her bag had shifted in her sleep. Papers and pens now littered across her lap. Embarrassed, pink decorated the woman’s cheeks, lips pulled into a thoughtful pout. Anxious eyes glanced at the train clock.

12 p.m.

“You’re fucking me.” It was excusable to miss work by several minutes, her employer was understanding of public transportation. But this? This was several hours. A death sentence. Frustrated, the woman balled up loose paper and tossed it against the ceiling. As soon as the parchment made contact against the meal roofing, a piercing crack buzzed through the air. It was a sound she had heard before, but only on news programs. Sounds of S-rated villain Ground Zero.

Fear flooded the woman’s system. Her arms felt heavy and impossible; appendages made of cement. The scattered populace within her section recognized the danger and began to clamber towards exits. Human cattle that trampled one other to escape. Death by stomping didn’t seem as horrific as Ground Zero. He wasn’t a man, but a quirk wielding monster. His explosions could level cities -- have leveled cities. The villain was unstoppable; his only rival, the number one pro hero Deku, even struggled against him. Victory was bloody and never guaranteed.

‘But Deku isn’t here.’ The woman’s stomach ached at the thought, goosebumps blossomed under her flesh. Instinct mandated she should run -- she was trapped here. Like dying prey. At least the other people in her carriage possessed some sort of quirk; mutant based abilities were most common among her generation, but she was quirkless. A freak in her own right, the trait she shared with the unwanted lover.

Another boom echoed, he was closer now, the sound harsh and overwhelming. A dull throb spread through the woman’s ears, ‘How is he not fucking deaf?!’ The proximity allowed adrenaline to finally engulf her. Heavy limbs moved as she clambered to her fellow passengers. A handful of people remained now, far less than before. They pushed against each other, against her, as desperate bodies tried to squeeze into an exit.

Unable to contain her voice, the woman shouted, “We -- we can’t fucking trample like this!” ‘Please, please, please fucking move,’ she pleaded; her mind tainted with dread. A primal fear that rotted in her chest. The salary woman's lungs burned for oxygen. She was going to be strangled of air and die like a rat trapped in a cage.

Anguished fists pounded against the man before her. His back was too broad and muscled to squeeze past, a hulking goliath she would die under.

“Move you fucking asshole!”

A final thunderous blast erupted to the woman’s right, her ears rang from the closeness. She could smell him now; caramel and smoke. The smell was putrid and caused her nose to scrunch in disgust. The smell of death.

There was an ample hole -- almost perfectly circular -- to her right. Smoke and sunlight mixed together, forming a sheen of orange tinted darkness. The woman heaved at the sight, ‘Too close. He’s too fucking close!’ Silence resided in the train now, the few occupants robbed of speech. Their tongues tied by the arrival of S-rated villain Ground Zero.

She avoided looking at him as trembling hands palmed through her pockets. ‘I can’t make it out like this. He’s too close. I -- at least, I can delay him.’ The realization stung. A loud stomp punctuated his arrival within the compartment. The sound hardened her resolve; fingers now laced around a shitty keychain pepper spray. It was cheap and never meant for real protection. A simple reminder of safety.

The woman pivoted to face the villain, determined to stand her ground.

“Hey! Hey, asshole!” She sounded unafraid, a stark contrast to the white knuckles that gripped the pepper spray. The trembling was instinctual now.

Violent, maroon eyes scanned her; the phantom of a smile on his face. His eyes held blood lust, like a lion’s during the hunt.

Swiftly, the woman produced the keychain and released a thick spray aimed at the villain. A deep grunt rattled from Ground Zero and gloved hands flew to his face.

His eyes snapped open; furious and bloodshot. The look of a predator. Webs of slobber connected his hands and mouth. Slimy and thick. Ground Zero’s characteristic snarl no longer existed; his expression now neutral with bits of anguish. The woman thought he looked heartbroken, as if he was hurt. As if he didn’t expect her to spray him.

She swallowed the pool of saliva in her mouth. Fear ignited itself in her system like a wildfire. Every nerve was begging to run and run and run until her legs ached and bile scratched at her throat.

“You stupid bitch!” His tone was animalistic and fiery. Deep and thunderous like a storm. Strong hands gripped the woman’s wrists. Hot brands that threatened to crush her. Ground Zero jerked the woman to him, her head bumping against his toned chest. The small crowd within the train stood imprisoned by horror. Tears fell onto the crown of her head, the villain unable to control his watering eyes.

‘I need to get out. I need to get out.’ Erratic thoughts assaulted her mind. She couldn’t control the volume nor intensity of her dread. Impulsive things that ate into her psyche.

“We’re going,” Ground Zero shouted and began to drag the salary woman through the now smoldering hole he created. Smoke and burning debris greeted her; silent tears gathered around the corners of her eyes. ‘I won’t give him the satisfaction.’ She knew how dangerous the man was, struggling would delay her death. She could only deny him the pleasure of shaking and heaving in fear.

Ground Zero looked down at the woman and released her wrists. A gloved hand instead snaked around her waist, grip impossibly tight. “Don’t struggle or I’ll fuckin’ drop you.” An explosion sounded under them, triggering a yelp. Refusing to look down, she buried her face within his clothed chest. The scent of caramel and smoke burned her nostrils. Shaky hands grasped the villain’s suit. Knuckles white and taunt. Wind cut into her face as Ground Zero trekked through the air. The woman’s ears throbbed from the explosions. ‘How can this freak even hear?! ’

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

“Stay,” the villain commanded as the couple landed atop a rundown warehouse. This area of the city was unknown to the office worker. Rundown and foreign. Escaping felt impossible now. The woman’s mind visualized her future; body burnt and left abandoned in a shitty warehouse. Her body now food for rats and the earth.

“Am I going to die?” Her voice was small, with speckles of anxiety. She tried to mask her fear, but it was all consuming now. The afternoon was set against the sky. Vibrant oranges that almost hurt to look at. ‘At least it’s pretty when I die. ’

Ground Zero released the woman from his grasp. Her waist hurt from his deathly clasp. He had held her like gold; a treasure he didn’t want to lose.

“No, you fucking idiot,” the man replied, his voice loud and thunderous. He sounded annoyed by the question, as if it were obvious she wouldn’t be harmed. Ground Zero’s lips pulled into a tight scowl, his face tear-streaked and red. He looked like a wounded predator; dangerous and unhinged. Pepper spraying the villain seemed to have angered him further.

The rooftop wasn’t remarkable, except for a skylight that was open, letting in fresh air and the setting sun. It looked new and out of place. Obviously an installment by Ground Zero. ‘A handyman and a monster.’ Ground Zero stopped in front of the skylight and dropped into the building below. Unsure if she should simply jump to her death, the woman decided to follow the villain. Her knees scraped against a dirty floor as she landed. The inside of the warehouse looked as decrepit as it’s outside. Rust decorated bare walls and drops of water echoed.

The man stood with his back to her as he spoke, “Why didn’t you reply?!” Ground Zero’s voice wasn’t anything less than a yell and yet carried the undertone of hurt and anguish.

His question finally clicked for the woman; ‘Oh my god. He sent the fucking letters.’ Goosebumps crept up her arms and shivers crawled down her spine. The feeling was almost painful. A primal feeling that left her exposed and afraid. This man -- this villain -- was responsible for the letters of admiration and desperation? Ground Zero was known for his impulsive nature and brutality. A monster she provoked.

“You… you left me those letters. Why?” Words were intangible and hopeless. The woman’s mind too tainted with dread to form coherency.

“Why? Why?! I’m in love with you,” Ground Zero began, “You’re so fucking stupid. No wonder you didn’t fight me. Too damned weak … and that’s why you need me.” His voice increased in volume as he spoke, ending in a crescendo of a scream. He was almost human like this; a man frustrated and pained. The villain sighed and regained his composure. “Don’t fucking move.”

His footsteps reverberated as he stomped towards the woman. She sat on the concrete and held her bruised knees to her chest, eyes memorizing the floor. The woman was in no shape to run. She knew how fast the villain was.

Ground Zero grabbed her chin and forced the woman to look at him. Hungry red eyes wide with excitement. Dark glints of anger held within.

“I know you’re a quirkless little bitch.”

Thin lips pulled into a carnivorous smile. A predator now left with wounded prey. Smiles -- as she knew -- shouldn’t hold such contempt and thrill.

No light or joy were held in her eyes. An inky abyss that left Ground Zero speechless. A part of him -- deep inside -- craved to see the woman like this. Broken and afraid under his boot.

“Okay,” the salary worker whimpered.  Her heart felt heavy now. Dread no longer sat in her veins, the iciness replaced by a dull apathy. Escape was never an option.

The villain released her face, satisfied by her complacency. Crimson eyes wandered to the bruises that decorated her knees, a cosmic mess of purple and red. Blood speckled her wounds. Ground Zero found himself wanting to lap at the blood and circle his tongue around the injuries. Without thought, Ground Zero rubbed a hand against the wound, eliciting a whine from the woman.

“Stop. That hurts…” Her voice wasn’t anything above a whisper.

Ground Zero smacked his hand against her knee, obviously annoyed. The woman bit her lip to muffle a cry.

“I can’t fucking hear you,” he snarled and held his hand over her knee. He was poised to punish her if he deemed the response inadequate.

She wanted to appeal to his humanity. “Ground Zero, please stop that hurts.” This was the most polite the woman ever was. Her voice was shaky and apathetic, but carried traits of a feigned kindness. Would she have to beg? Scream prayers that would never be answered?

Quickly, the villain released her knee, allowing the damaged limb to fall against the concrete. “Call me Katsuki,” his breath was hot against her face, “Clean yourself up. Or are you too fucking useless to do that yourself?” Katsuki hoped he could wash her wounds himself. He wanted to imprint himself against her skin and never let go. Even touching her knee sent his heart into rapid palpitations that hammered against his rib cage. His head pounded with the blood coursing through his ears.

Ground Zero -- an S-rated villain -- kidnaps her and has the audacity to belittle her. The salary worker felt her chest blossom with a heated rage that replaced the dull, apathetic ache. She had pepper sprayed him and stood her ground despite being quirkless. ‘I’m not going to let this freak wash me,’ she thought.

“No. I know how to disinfect wounds, Katsuki,” the woman replied; his name left a sour taste in her mouth and dripped with venom. Heated eyes regarded the villain, waiting for a response.

Katsuki said nothing, opting to instead stand and walk towards a neatly stacked display of water bottles. She hadn’t noticed the mountain before; her eyes too intent on the floor. Looking around the room now, the woman noted the modest abode. A ratty mattress sat off to the side of a makeshift living area, the entire setup looking out of place against the cobwebs and dust.

“I’ll clean your dumbass myself,” Katsuki announced, “Strip.” His heart continued to pound in his chest, excitement boiling in his veins. He had dreamed of this; of seeing his beloved nude and waiting for him. Smoke sparked in his palms from impatience. The sight of the salary woman caused his palms to sweat too much, allowing for extra nitroglycerin to mingle and create sparks.

“I said I can do it myself. Are you deaf?” Once the question left her mouth, the office worker clamped a small, shaky hand over it. She knew the mistake she made. He could burn her alive, ‘He could burn this place down if he wanted to.’

The roar of a laugh vibrated from Katsuki, the laugh of a madman.

“My explosions are fuckin’ loud. I know you’re stupid, but I didn’t think you were this goddamn dumb. It’s hearing loss, sweetheart.” The way he said sweetheart felt vicious, like a threat. It made the salary woman's skin prickle.

Being so vulnerable in front of him -- in front of a villain caused goosebumps to settle underneath her skin. Little beads of anxiety and fear. Spit pooled at the back of her throat; bile that wanted to rise and overcome her. The woman swallowed the thick liquid and nodded. A small, meek action. She felt impossibly insignificant. Trembling hands began to slowly peel off her sweat drenched clothing. The cotton material wanted nothing more than to glue itself to her flesh.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, unable to hide his annoyance. She would come to want this -- to want him.

“If you’re gonna be so fucking slow, I’ll do it.” Heavy footsteps echoed as the villain stalked his prey. His calloused hands gripped the woman’s blouse and ripped the material. Clammy skin shivered under the cool air. A gust had worked its way into the room, perhaps a sign of their altitude. He instinctively palmed her now exposed chest and ran a finger over her collarbone, earning a shiver from his captive. ‘She’s as soft as I imagined.’ The villain absentmindedly hummed, allowing his hands to roam over her clothed breasts. Katsuki’s touch elicited a muffled sigh from the woman. She didn’t want to hide a sound from him. Far too risky with napalm hands memorizing her form, but she grew impatient.

“It’s -- it’s my knees,” the salary worker advised. Her body felt ablaze from the villain’s hands. An inferno that ended between her thighs. A man hadn’t touched her like this before, her skin only knowing curt handshakes and platonic hugs. His touch felt almost sinful. Like a brand that scarred her skin.

The pressure of his palms was replaced by nails. It was a searing pain and pulled a soft yowl from the salary worker. Katsuki found himself pleased with the sound and continued to dig his nails into supple flesh.

“Do you see what you do to me?” The question wasn’t meant for her. No, it was self reflection. An impossible question the young man wondered as he left vicarious love notes that went unanswered. Thinking back to her response -- or lack of -- caused Katsuki’s blood to boil; lava that burned his veins.

Unable to handle the pain any longer, the woman swatted his hand away. An act of defiance she knew she would grow to regret. His hands felt too hot and reeked of caramel. The smell was traditionally pleasant; a smell reminiscent of sweets, but instead, it left her queasy and nervous.

Snapped from his fantasy, Katsuki’s large hands traveled down the woman’s form, ending at her bruised knees. “Whatever. Stay still,” the villain commanded as he produced a worn rag and began to dab at the wounds. The lukewarm water felt pleasant against scraped knees, the flesh irritated and hot. She hummed from the relief.

“You like that?” His face was twisted into a smug grin. ‘See? You’ll learn to love me.’

Embarrassed, the salary worker turned her head away as she spoke, “It just feels good. Guess you don’t have gauze.” It was meant as a joke -- a means to relieve the feverous atmosphere. His eyes still held lust, but his hands were gentle as Katsuki worked.

“No, but I have this,” Katsuki replied and further tore her blouse, the woman’s entire front now exposed to the villain. Before she could respond, Katsuki wrapped a strip around both knees. The material was too thin and eventually crimson would bleed through, but the blond admired his handiwork. She looked so fragile like this. The complete opposite of the woman who pepper sprayed him.

His gaze was piercing and uncomfortable. The woman shrunk under it and wanted to evaporate from existence. ‘Anything,’ she reasoned, ‘would be better than this.’

Katsuki’s hand still rested on the woman’s knee. He couldn’t bear to deny himself the sensation of her. She was like water he desperately needed. An oasis within a hellish desert… All his. Strong hands traced the curve of the salary woman’s knee and ended on her thigh. She was soft here, too. The woman was a stuffed toy; only for him.

“Move your hand,” she began, “please.” It was a simple request, one that she hoped the man before her would honor. Asking him like this -- like a sniveling child -- was demeaning. Begging wasn’t a usual characteristic. The woman considered herself more of a spitfire, despite the lack of a quirk. A trait that drew the villain to her.

The blond ignored her and continued to stroke her thigh. His crimson eyes no longer held carnal desires, replaced by a listful glint. Little cherries devoid of emotion. “Shut up. You don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you? Just enjoy it, kitten.” Katsuki’s last sentence carried a gentle tone, unlike the brutish voice his captive was accustomed to. He sounded normal; like a young lover caressing his sweetheart. Not the monster of a man that kidnapped her and left red, angry impressions of his nails. His hands were comforting and the salary worker found herself leaning into his hand. Being touched was uncommon and left her touch-starved, but being touched like this felt infinite.

Katsuki’s heart began to pick up in pace again, the organ now hammering in his chest. He allowed his warm hands to wander to her heated center and palmed her clothed crotch. The sudden touch caused a mewl to escape the woman. A soft and quiet sound that Katsuki strained to hear. Blood pulsed through his ears from the sound. His ears reddened and light rogue across his cheeks.

“This,” the villain gently slapped her crotch, “is mine.” The sentence came out as a growl. Hungry and predatory. “You’re mine. Say it!”

Unable to avoid the blush across her cheeks the woman nodded, strands of hair cascading down her shoulders. ‘Why do I feel like this? Why am I letting him do this?’ A part of the woman hated herself for it. It was weak. Only a weak minded woman would allow a villain to feel her up in a dingy warehouse.

“See? You’re too fuckin’ weak to even answer. Want me to undress ya, baby?” Katsuki finally began to rub the woman’s clothed core. “Say it!”

Her tongue was dry and tight. Saliva evaporated and she struggled to speak, “N-no…”

The blond’s hands suddenly left her wanting core, causing the woman to stifle a whine of disappointment. “No? No?! I touch you, make you feel good, and you won’t even fucking give a damn. Don’t care about anyone but yourself, huh? Fine.” She missed his warm hands. A lack of warmth that made her feel dirty. Katsuki reached into his pocket and revealed a small orange handkerchief. “I didn’t wanna use this goddamn thing on you, but you’re making me, kitten.”

A wave of shock splashed across the woman’s face. Eyes impossibly wide and afraid. ‘He’s going to drug me!’

“You don’t --” Her sentence was muffled and lost by soft fabric pressed against her mouth. The scent of flowers wafted from the material. She held back the urge to choke and splutter, the smell too floral and nauseating, as if the villain shoved her face into a rose bush. Her breath was hot against Katsuki’s palm and caused blood to rush between his thighs. He resisted the carnal urge to trace the salary worker’s lips. They felt like delicate petals underneath the handkerchief. A plush gift only for him.

A part of Katsuki hated himself for this. He didn’t want to use this; it was his final option. He didn’t like to think of himself as desperate like this… She… She should understand how much -- how fucking much he loves her! His heart didn’t ache and hammer in his chest for anyone else. The feelings he experienced were foreign at first. A woman had never made the villain florid and shy, but this pathetic woman brought forth lewd thoughts that consumed him. Like a fire he couldn’t extinguish.

She struggled against the blond’s grip. His strong hands felt heavy, like weights that threatened to crush her. After inhaling the sickeningly sweet handkerchief, the woman’s body began to heat up; a fever she couldn’t escape. Sweat beaded against her skin. Sticky and humid. Rapid breathing slowed into soft, agonizing pants. Sounds that Katsuki cherished, sounds he had dreamt of. The uncomfortable warmth spread down the salary woman’s body and ended between her thighs. The sensation was familiar, almost like the heat from Katsuki’s touch, but somehow more intense. More needy.

“Please…” Her voice sounded alien and lustful. A tone of voice she hadn’t used before. The sensation between her thighs only bloomed once the villain removed the handkerchief and traced his calloused fingers over gentle lips. ‘She’s so soft. So soft and wanting.’ “Please,” she begged again, “t-touch me, Katsuki.” The woman was unable to stifle her plea, her sentence loud and wanting.

Without responding, thin lips locked her in a feverish kiss, afraid to lose the woman. His teeth gnawed at plush lips and left red welts in their wake. The beginnings of Katsuki marking his property. Large, calloused hands roamed her form; desperate to memorize the valleys and curves of his captive’s frame. He lacked the gentleness of a lover.

Breaking the kiss, Katsuki growled, “This is mine. You’re mine.” To prove his point, the villain’s nails dug into her fleshy thighs and elicited a groan. Encouraged by the woman, Katsuki’s palms traveled to the woman’s chest and began to grope her breasts. Unable to muffle herself, the woman allowed a moan to escape. The sound was angelic and ethereal and left Katsuki throbbing for more. Roughly, the villain took a delicate breast into his mouth, his tongue swirling around his captive’s sensitive nub. Her sounds of pleasure echoed off the walls, lewd sounds that Katsuki had dreamed of.

“Don’t stop…” She grinded her feverish body against the blond, causing his muscles to clench. “You -- you feel so good, Katsuki.” Without agency, small hands began to trail down Katsuki’s toned body. He fit perfectly against her, ‘Maybe it’s fate,’ she thought. Her mind buzzed and hazy from the handkerchief.

A satisfying ‘pop’ sounded as Katsuki released her breast. He turned his attention to the woman’s neck and began to suck on the supple flesh. Katsuki needed to brand her as his. A woman that belonged only to him. The blond left a trail of hickies as he sucked and kissed her neck. She palmed at his hair, pulling and ruffling the soft strands. The pressure -- the burning pressure between her thighs ached, leaving her frantic for relief. Her other hand crawled in between her thighs and rubbed her clothed crotch. ‘It’s too hot. I need… I need relief. ’

She whined when the blond suddenly removed his hot, wet mouth from her sensitive breast. He reached down and swatted the woman’s hand away from her sweltering core. “I’ll make you feel good. So fucking good.” A warm hand stroked her swollen lips and circled around her mound. Embarrassed by her blatant need for release, a blush crept across her face. ‘Let me make you feel good, too.’ Inexperienced hands trailed down Katsuki’s muscular form, stopping between his thighs. She gripped the villain’s clothed member and began to stroke him. A guttural groan rattled from his throat. Thunderous and vibrating his chest.

Katsuki mumbled her name against her skin, his breath clammy and humid. She felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her. Her name on his lips was euphoric. A mortal being acknowledged by divinity. Katsuki’s palm ignited atop the woman’s crotch -- burning her garments. The salary worker yelped from the sudden spark, her mind still hazy and wanton. She shuddered as a thick finger pressed against her entrance. Katsuki wanted to draw out every sound from her, but his lust proved too powerful. He shoved the finger inside and began to quickly pump into the woman. Brutal and forlorn. Her breathing was reduced to hectic puffs, the woman unable to regulate herself. A calloused finger traced circles around her clit, the stimulation sending her into a frenzy of moans and huffs. Unable to close her mouth, drool began to dribble down her exposed chest.  

“Katsuki…”

“Yeah, baby? Ya want my cock? Say it,” the blond demanded. His tone gruff and obviously excited. “Tell me how badly you fuckin’ want it. Beg.”

She hated being this needy -- this reliant on a villain. A man that wanted to violate her -- was violating her in a dirty, abandoned building. The salary woman hadn’t been touched like this before, but the fire between her legs roared for him. For Katsuki.

Swallowing the saliva in her mouth, the woman mumbled, “Katsuki, I want you.”

Katsuki withdrew his finger from her wet cunt. It left her wanting and empty. Only Katsuki could fulfill her. She whined and grabbed onto the villain’s shirt, desperate for his touch again.

He wiped his soaking hand against her plush thighs. “No. Say it.” A rough hand reached up and clasped around the woman’s throat. Almost like a warning. A threat. ‘Don’t do anything you’ll regret, sweetheart.’

“Please fuck me. Please. Please. Please,” she begged. Words spilled forth from her like a spring. It physically hurt to not have her aching core stimulated. Her body was burning and Katsuki was the well that would extinguish her.

Instead of a reply, the blond only grunted. She reminded him of a virgin first exploring the landscape of a man. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you? No one would fuck you, huh? Too damned shy and weak, kitten.” Katsuki moved swiftly to undress, the man now standing nude and proud. Her eyes crept down his nude frame. A shameless act she would otherwise not allow.

‘Touch me. Touch me, touch me, touch me.’ The thoughts assaulted her as Katsuki ran a finger down her body, eliciting a shudder of anticipation. His fingers hovered over the woman’s entrance. Her cunt was soaking, but Katsuki wanted to stretch her further. Without mercy, he plunged two fingers into her sensitive core. His captive cried out in shock and slight pain. One finger had made her feel full, but two left the woman feeling stuffed. Little droplets of tears cascaded down her cheeks as meaty fingers mercilessly pumped into her.

“Don’t be such a fucking baby,” Katsuki chided, adding a third finger. He continued his vigorous pace. The villain was unswayed by her blatant discomfort. “Relax, dumbass.” As if on cue, the woman melted into Katsuki’s touch. His fingers pumping in and out, the squelching noise vibrating through the room. Three fingers now curled inside her, causing a long wanton moan to rattle from the woman. “Just like that, kitten.”

A part of her wanted the villain’s encouragement. She wanted his rough hands to lay waste to her body and claim her as his. She… She wanted him.

“Please fuck me, Katsuki,” she moaned into the blond’s hair.

‘Finally.’ Katsuki slid his fingers from her heated, drenched core and lined his cock up at her entrance. “Hold still.” His member sheathed into her with ease and slowly began to roll his hips against the woman. Their sweat mingled together; the scent of caramel and perspiration drifting around the room. Her body finally felt complete. The sweltering heat wave no longer threatened to burn her alive. Katsuki was her saving grace. A waterfall she plunged into. Slowly, Katsuki picked up his pace. His hips now slapped against hers, the sound loud and sickening. She knew -- she knew this was wrong, and yet her body craved the villain and wanted to savor every push into her wanting cunt.

The woman snaked a delicate hand down her body and stroked her clit; little circles that only intensified her need. She felt a bundle of pleasure start to build within her stomach; the feeling foreign and yet blissful.

“F-faster.”

Katsuki rammed himself into her cunt, loudly swearing and panting. Like a dog in heat. “You feel so fucking good. Your pussy was made for me, kitten.” His voice rumbled from his chest; deep and guttural. Primal. A predator finally seeking their claws into prey.

Unable to withhold her pleasure any longer, the pressure erupted as waves of euphoria crashed into her. Her mind slowly started to seep back into reality. The reality of a villain -- a monster -- buried within her now hypersensitive cunt. Fear swelled in the woman’s eyes; nervous and trapped.

“Don’t,” she pleaded, “Please, dont.” Tears stung in her vision. Katsuki appeared blurry and carnal; like a man possessed. ‘Don’t cum in me. Not here. Not with you.’

“I gotta st-stop, baby. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.” The last word came out a whimper as the woman felt her juices mix with the blond’s cum. An unholy union of bodies and filth. She choked out a sob, the woman unable to hold back her agony.

Katsuki brought a finger to her lips and softly shushed her. “I know, baby. I know. You’re just so happy you’re all mine.”

[slightlymore]

cute~

- a pride spin-off -

pairing: haechan x mark

other characters: doyoung, jaemin, jungwoo, onew (??? only bc I needed a name 😔)

genre: angst!! smut! fluff!!! one-shot, company!au (you can read this without reading "pride" first but make sure to read at least the little synopsis below, just to have some kind of context for the first part)

warnings: 18+, language, sexual activities, alcohol, drunk characters

words: 14K (oops)

for those who didn’t read pride and don't want to: doyoung and y/n are in love with each other but because of a series of unfortunate events (them being stupid) they can’t be together. doyoung leaves her after college and starts working at haechan’s company while being miserable; the two boys become enemies/friends. everything goes relatively well until one day y/n makes an appearance and starts working there as well. doyoung and y/n finally get (their shit) together and become a couple. haechan is the happy friend witnessing all of that and this is his story

(the photo was meant to be a shitpost but now I kinda like it lmaooo)

The phone rang for the millionth time that morning, a piercing and resounding noise, making Haechan unable to hear his own thoughts. The boy groaned. It was only 10 am yet everyone suddenly needed to speak with him. Haechan would have loved to spend his workday gossiping on the phone. Maybe chit-chatting about everyone. Listening to his colleagues talk about George's new too-expensive-for-his pockets-but-he's-an-idiot car, or the scandalous hairstyle Alex tried out to impress his already-married-and-twenty-years-older flame, or to hear how someone heard from someone else that somebody had sex with someone somewhere. But not that day. Haechan was exhausted, physically, and mentally, head buried between his arms, the white noises of the office almost putting him to sleep. The infernal device stopped ringing for a second and the young man sighed relieved before it rang again soon after. Haechan whined, almost sobbing, while lightly hitting his forehead on the desk. A soft 'what the fuck' made him raise his face with pained eyes squinting from the sudden too much light. "Are you alright?", the same voice asked, his desk neighbour inquiring. "Mind your own business, Owen", Haechan mumbled and finally put one hand on the phone while massaging the base of his nose with the other. "... my name is Onew", the dude whispered offended, but Haechan's little attention was already drifting away. A female voice said something that Haechan couldn't catch but to which he replied with a short "yeah, thanks", having figured out the words "intern" and "acceptance" through her quick mumbling. When he first heard the news during the beginning of the year reunion, Haechan was ecstatic, to say the least. They said he was responsible and could handle taking care of an intern making Haechan's shoulders widen at the compliments. Also, having an innocent soul to bother for a few months? It meant some company and less work for himself. Paradise. But Haechan had already forgotten about the joy he felt before. He had been feeling weird for a while now and he hated it. The previous night he didn't go home after Doyoung and Y/N left the company building. He listened to them talk for an excruciating period while pretending to sleep. It was beautiful, choked voices and raw confessions, and he felt like the third wheel in his own life. When Haechan walked out of his office one day, months before that, with the intention of "grabbing something important from somewhere" (or taking a break while making it pass as work) and heard the loud bang of the neighbour office door, he didn’t think that his life would go spiralling down from that moment on. It took him days. No, it took him weeks, maybe months, before the uncomfortable feeling creeping on him, making his spine shiver and palms sweat could be classified as something real by his brain. As a feeling. Sitting down on his chair, tired fingers tapping away at the keyboard for hours, he would suddenly feel this ungodly urge to get up and go to that office again as if an obscure force possessed him. To do what? To see a pair of angry eyes. Angry and full of pain. They were beautiful: round but also angled, dark but also light, absent as if looking at anything but their surroundings. Looking at something only they could see. That thing, sadly, was never Haechan. The boy tried everything to be seen by them. Being friendly, being funny, being helpful. Then he tried being rude. To his immense joy, the latter worked better, as if those eyes hatched such an enormous amount of anger that they had to spill some onto someone. And Haechan didn’t mind being that someone if it also meant being the object of those eyes’ attention at the same time. Then he realized that he didn’t want to see only the eyes. Something else was fighting for Haechan’s regard. Pink and soft looking, often stretched in a line, sometimes forming a pout. God, Haechan would have done everything to be able to touch those lips even once, even for a second. And he did it during his most feverish dreams. The first time, he woke up panting, ashamed, shaken to the core, the feeling of that soft skin still ghosting his own lips. The second time Haechan raised a trembling hand and touched the place where his subconsciousness created such a realistic scenario. He caressed it slowly, laying in that obscure slumber, silently, afraid to wake up his rational side. The third time he didn’t need to dream. He just imagined, shamelessly. His lips got kissed and his name was pronounced with such lust and desire to leave Haechan panting. So real, as if Doyoung whispered that while being beside Haechan in his room. It took Doyoung a few good weeks to call Haechan by his name in real life. When he finally did it, he wasn't even scolding him. No. From weird conjunction of stars, Haechan didn’t need to do something to gain Doyoung’s attention that day. He was in the photocopying room. One hand was mindlessly using the machines, the other was warmly hugging a mug of coffee. His slowly descending glasses were being pushed back by one of his fingers when a fluttering shadow appeared behind him. Haechan’s hands stopped as if his crawling skin could physically predict the future.   “Haechan”, Doyoung said. Just like that, sweet and soft. And the boy with that name let his coffee mug fall to the ground. Oh. “Haechan!” Doyoung repeated. “What the hell?” Yes. Yes. Haechan. That’s me. That’s my name on your lips. Say it again. “Haechan! You’re doing this on purpose now”. Doyoung stood tall with hands on his hips, looking at the way Haechan was failing to grab his mug, letting it comically slip from his hands, again and again, new coffee stains covering the carpet. I just love how my name sounds in your mouth. I don't want you to stop. Please. “Oops”, Haechan chuckled, the mask he carefully crafted for Doyoung easily slipping on his face, and despite everything, Doyoung rolled his eyes with a little smile himself. “You’re such an idiot”. Oh fuck. That. Haechan almost forgot. The boy could drown in the light that Doyoung’s face emitted when he was smiling. It would dissipate for a split second the darkness lingering around him and it was Haechan’s doing. Haechan did that. It made his little heart buzz every time and soon enough he started to fantasize about a day in which Doyoung would not have that expression line between his eyebrows anymore. And it arrived eventually. Haechan realized everything would go downhill for himself when he got blinded by Doyoung’s soul. He could see it before as well but not this way. Not while the older man's cheeks got red and his pupils were trembling. And Haechan understood soon what that was because a sick person recognizes another sick person easily. Was Haechan like that as well? Were his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy every time he looked at Doyoung? Ah, Doyoung’s soul. He took it out so suddenly and poured it into that girl’s hands. Haechan felt like dying. No. No, wait. It's supposed to go like this. I should be there. I worked so hard. I endured so much. It can’t end like this. This is my story. Isn’t it? And it was, but not the type of story Haechan imagined. In this universe it ended in him being alone, bones cold and empty, looking at Doyoung’s back as he carried his love in his arms. Haechan stayed back there, motionless, no arms holding him. He bit his lips for a little while, looking around the office as if not knowing on which planet he was. Then he crouched down and cried. He was tired. Yeah, he was just tired. It has been a long week and a long day. He was exhausted. That was the reason. Haechan, you're good. Just get a good night sleep. You’ll be fine. Now get up and go home. And he did that. Like a robot. He was alone inside the 4 am metro, blinding, fluorescent lights burning his fatigued eyes. His feet dragged him towards his apartment although he found himself knocking on Jaemin's door instead. Jaemin was a weird guy and Haechan loved him dearly. He just never slept. Every time Haechan called him, he somehow was wide awake doing some random shit. Haechan hoped that he didn't suddenly change his habits because he desperately needed some arms to crash into. And Jaemin opened the door as expected, a popsicle between his lips, eyes wide and bright. Haechan stepped inside and took the snack away, putting his lips on Jaemin's instead, pushing him against the wall, letting the coldness of Jaemin's tongue numb his thoughts. And he let the popsicle fall from his fingers when Jaemin wrapped him between his arms, guiding him towards the bedroom, no questions asked, no romance. I need a distraction right now, Haechan's whole being was screaming and Jaemin was good at reading people. Quickly and effortless, clothes sliding down, Haechan's mind finally lingered in a grey bliss as the only thing he could think of was the way Jaemin rolled his hips into him, sending shots of pleasure through his whole body. But then Haechan's slipped. "Doyoung-", he whimpered then gasped, eyes wide with horror and cheeks reddening. Jaemin didn't care if Haechan called other guys’ names but when Haechan put his palms on his face, chest rising and falling quickly, sobbing desperately, Jaemin stopped and sighed. He let Haechan go and rolled over, wrapping his shaking frame with his arms. "Do you want to talk?" he asked softly. Haechan shook his head, burying it into the other's chest. Jaemin stayed quiet, the only sound in the dark room being Haechan's irregular breaths, his fingers delicately drawing patterns on the other’s skin. "It's going to get better", Jaemin whispered after a while. "You're going to be seen by someone one day, just like you see everyone else”. It was weird how Jaemin always had the perfect thing to say. Though Haechan didn’t believe that, he had no force to argue. He stayed like that for the next hour, in silence, until the sun came out. Then he got up and let Jaemin prepare his breakfast that he barely touched. Haechan then borrowed the other's clothes and said it was fine for him to go to work that morning. You have to be sick to be able to call in sick, Haechan said. Because you’re someone that follows rules and does an honest job, Jaemin commented sarcasting with a raise of the brow. I just need to be busy, Haechan added and left.

Now, heading towards the acceptance, he regretted not staying home, maybe sleeping the whole day. Sleeping would be good but dreaming? He was afraid of that. The squeaking sound of Haechan’s shoes on the main floor tiles was so distressing that Haechan felt like taking them off and throw a tantrum in the middle of all those white collars. Blinking fast he sighed when he saw the new guy, an anonymous-looking young man looking around as if uncomfortable and slightly afraid. Haechan introduced himself in a monotone voice, letting the intern shake his hand then he turned around with a short 'follow me', not giving the other time to do anything else besides tailing his supervisor. Haechan has been babbling about the company for a good five minutes now, walking quickly through the corridors, showing rooms and people. He wasn't doing a very good job because he didn't care. The new guy, weirdly enough, didn't seem disoriented at all and Haechan shrugged internally. "And this is the terrace", the boy finally finished his monologue as they both stepped outside. It was a sunny day but the wind was quite strong, making Haechan close his eyes as his fluffy hair danced around his forehead. "Cute," the guy commented with a soft chuckle. Haechan looked around. Cute? It was kinda cute, he guessed. Too many ugly buildings around though and it wasn't the best-kept terrace. He turned his head to face the intern. "What's cute?" Haechan asked. It was the first word that guy said and Haechan wanted to hear him speak.  The intern was looking at him already instead of the surroundings and Haechan could have sworn that the dude's cheeks were flushed with a pink hue.    "You are", he said shyly, eyes big and twinkling. Haechan could only blink back. Wait. What? Did this guy just call him cute? Cute? "Listen, thanks, but you have to pay me respect. I'm your supervisor", Haechan replied trying hard to keep his voice stable. He wasn't annoyed but he couldn't just giggle, could he? Also, who calls strangers cute? On the workplace? What a weirdo. The guy’s expression shifted at Haechan’s words as if in slow motion. "Oh God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", the intern babbled and stuttered, cheeks going from pink to red, eyes darting around, not knowing where to look. Haechan has never seen someone that transparent with his feelings before and he could tell that he was very honest. Looking so naive, Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes at him just to make him feel even more embarrassed. "I can't fire you personally or anything and I'm not your boss, but I can tell people to fire you", Haechan tried to sound cold even if the situation was rather funny. The look the guy gave to Haechan was of pure terror a for a split second Haechan felt almost sorry. But then the dude’s eyes darted to Haechan’s hair, still flying around his forehead. Haechan puffed annoyed and put one hand on top of his head as to stop the motion. The intern’s expression relaxed. "And what are you going to say? That it's because I called you cute?" he asked. His lips were back into a timid smile. Haechan was baffled. "What is so cute about me?", he sniffled, sure that he caught a cold already and switched the hand from his hair to his ear as the wind got even stronger. The intern took the question seriously. "You have curly purple hair-", he started then stopped as if that was enough to explain his comment, "-and well, your cheeks are full and now they're uhm red and it's... very cute. Also, your eyes are big and round and it's very cute-" 

Haechan groaned incredulously. 

"Oh my God! Stop saying cute", he spoke up to make his voice heard over the loud rumble of the wind, before turning on his heels and walking towards the terrace door. The intern’s cheeks turned pink again as he tried hard to not add whatever he wanted to say.

_______

Mark was told that he was somewhat of a dense guy. He disapproved. He just paid attention to what he wanted and disregarded the rest. So, if you asked him to show off the company to you, what tasks he had to do or where the bathroom was, he wouldn't know where to start. But if you asked him to tell you how many moles Haechan Lee the Supervisor had, he could answer in a second. It was weird and Mark wasn't a romantic person at all. But when he saw the guy walking out the elevator, eyebrows furrowed and dark circles underneath a pair of tired and red eyes, Mark felt a tingle in his stomach that he could only describe as love at first sight. Okay. Maybe not love. Crush at first sight? Attraction? Mark didn't know what that was and it made him so confused that he could only look at the guy's back when walking around the company as if it could give him some answers. Haechan, he said while letting Mark shake his hand. Of course. It fit him perfectly. Mark could see it - the sun - underneath his skin. Their fingers parted ways too quickly after shaking hands and Mark felt so paralyzed by the sudden tingle on his skin that he couldn’t fully pay attention. Was he also warm to the touch? Mark desperately wanted to find out. Was it weird? He was being weird. But God, he was so cute. Cute. Very cute. Cute. Cute. So fucking cute. 

This is all Mark’s mind was thinking about and when Mark thought about something he would just say it. Just like that. Cute. Don’t say it now though. Cute. I swear, Mark, shut up, for once. So cute. Please, not now. “Cute”, his tongue slipped. 

Goddammit. 

“What’s cute?” Haechan asked. The view. The view is cute. The view, Mark. Mark, say it. Mark, are you listening? The view. “You are”, Mark said instead and Haechan suddenly turned even cuter. Mark gasped, firstly because of the way Haechan’s cheeks turned red and his eyes round and big, then after a good full second that felt like an eternity, because of embarrassment. Oh shit. Fired. He was about to get fired. "God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", Mark felt like running away. He woke up that morning with the intent of finally living the life he worked so hard for and there he was instead, calling strangers cute and making everyone uncomfortable for the sole reason of not being able to shut his mouth for once. Haechan looked embarrassed as he was though and that little detail made Mark hope that it wasn’t all over. Then Haechan shut some cold blinds on his own face and Mark knew that Haechan thought he was safe, that Mark wasn’t able to see his feelings underneath all that. It wasn’t an efficient job and Mark wondered if other people needed just that little act to not see Haechan anymore.

_______

"Good morning". Haechan saw the intern’s feet first before hearing his voice, but he didn't raise his face as suddenly something very important and urgent was being shown on the computer screen and he couldn't physically let his eyes fall on the way the guy wore his suit. 

It was terrible. Long legs and strong thighs on display right in front of his desk? Terrible, and he didn’t need any more distractions in the workplace. After the intern left for the day with a soft “see you on Monday”, both tired having spent most of the time walking around the company and explaining boring paperwork, Haechan had not been able to stop thinking about him the whole weekend. No. No, it wasn’t a crush or anything. Haechan was just, what’s the word? baffled, s h o c k e d, appalled. Some random guy called him cute and Haechan acted that way? Blushing timidly? Was he feeling that bad? Was he that sick? Unacceptable. He was Haechan, for fuck’s sake. And Haechan didn’t just blush. He could not slip anymore. "Yeah, hi Mike", he replied lazily, fingers typing something he didn’t really need to write. "It's Mark", the intern replied in a neutral tone. Haechan knew it was Mark. In fact, he also knew his full name. Mark Lee. Born on August 2nd, 1999. Toronto. Moved to Vancouver. Graduated from university a few years ago. Great grades. Interested in music and sports. Plays the guitar. Good boy. Loves animals. Does charity work regularly. Has a normal amount of friends. Doesn't know how to take selfies. No, he was not being weird. He just read his CV. 

Obviously. 

He was his supervisor. He needed to read that. The other info? He Googled him only to make sure that he wasn't a criminal. And the social media research? It was just to check on his personality. 

Obviously. 

What if he posted about illegal shit? He had to check every photo and tagged person. It was part of his job. He was single, even if Haechan didn't search for that in particular. Haechan loved his work a lot and he didn't care that he worked on that until 3 am, scrolling through his phone, drifting to sleep with Mark's selfies impregnated on his lids. It's just that he took his job seriously.  

Okay. Okay. 

It wasn’t the whole truth. Haechan was curious. Who calls you cute all of a sudden? Haechan had to know more. 

"Okay, Matt. What about you go and bring me a coff-", Haechan started but got interrupted by a hand, delicately placing a cup of steamy coffee in front of him. Haechan stared at it as if not understanding what that was then finally raised his eyes to meet Mark's gentle ones. He was smiling. "I stalked your Instagram. Full of food and coffee", Mark explained honestly with a shrug while walking around the desk and sitting down on his chair. They had to share a desk and Mark was as close as to touch elbows. Haechan hated having people so close to him when he didn't want them; especially at that moment, as Mark rested his head on his hand and just stared. 

Yeah, he stared. His eyes were piercing, looking at Haechan as if that’s what normal people do. Scanning him from head to toe, then looking into his eyes as if able to see something there. 

Haechan ignored him and looked away. "Stalking my social media is problematic, Mike". Mark chuckled lightly. "You did the same". Haechan's head snapped. "And why would I do that?”. Mark shrugged. "Close the tabs if you didn't want me to find out," he smiled staring at Haechan's laptop. 

The younger’s eyes suddenly widened and with a quick hand, he closed it in a second, cheeks hot with shame. He opened his mouth to say something to get himself out of that embarrassing situation but Mark thankfully didn't give him any time. 

"What are we doing today, sir?" he asked instead with a sly smile. "We write codes", Haechan replied quietly. "Fun", was Mark's comment. 

And they did that the whole morning, ignoring each other's knees as they sometimes brushed against each other. And they ignored the way their knuckles touched when both reached for their own cup of coffee. And Haechan ignored Mark's cologne while Mark ignored the way the computer lights made Haechan's skin glow. Mark loved programming, he always did, but that morning he thought that it would be nice to not be a programmer, just for a minute, just to be in a well-lit office and see how different Haechan would look under the sun instead.

_______

Haechan stared down at his sandwich, sitting still wrapped and untouched in his lap. Then he looked up at the blue sky and let the white fluffy clouds calm him. 

It happened close to the lunch break. 

"Spaghetti", Mark said suddenly. Onew had left already and in front of their office, everyone was walking the corridor heading out. Haechan was finally getting into the flow of working when Mark's hoarse voice startled him. "It's your favourite food, isn't it?" Mark asked, explaining himself. "Soup. I don't put things I love on my Instagram", Haechan replied. Mark looked pensive. "This is why there's no girlfriend photo there?" he wondered with a timid smile. Huh? What was that? So this is what was happening? This is the reason for the cute? 

Haechan had no force to being hit on, as much as Mark intrigued him. He had zero force and suddenly all the thoughts that Haechan buried away for a few days, came back like a bulldozer. 

Haechan bit his tongue before talking too much. "Maybe the girlfriend doesn't exist", he mumbled before getting up and grabbing his wallet.  

"Wait, are you going away?" Mark got up as well, surprised. "I thought we were going to eat together. I don't know other people-". "Well, I don't want to. Make some new friends", he replied and just walked away. No, he ran away and the first place he thought about was the terrace. It was the only uncontaminated place in the whole company. Doyoung has never been there before. 

And Haechan loved the clouds. He loved the wind moving them around fast. It was mesmerizing and in moments like those, he was able to not think about anything, until he was not Haechan anymore, until he was a cloud himself, floating in the blue sky. 

"Sorry, I didn't know this was your favourite place", a voice startled him for the second time that day. 

Haechan looked at his right where Mark was standing with a plate of food in his hands. He looked like a scared deer, turning around to leave Haechan alone, probably wondering what he did wrong but too anxious to confront Haechan about it.  

"It's alright. You can stay", Haechan spoke softly and resumed his cloud gazing. 

Mark stopped uncertain, standing still for a little while but then he walked towards Haechan and slowly sat down, resting his back on the wall as Haechan did, raising his eyes to watch the sky.

"Pretty", Mark commented and this time he was actually talking about the view. 

Haechan hummed, then after a moment of silence, he apologized. 

Mark began eating his food. "For what?" he asked with his mouth full. They both knew the reason but Haechan still appreciated Mark’s effort to showcase that he wasn’t mad at him. "For telling you that I don't want to eat together. I was being an ass for no reason", Haechan explained. Mark shook his head. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I came off clingy". Haechan huffed. "Funny. Usually, I'm the clingy one". 

Mark swallowed and Haechan looked at him. "I haven't been myself lately. But I promise I'm not an asshole". Mark smiled back kindly. "I know. I can see that". 

Haechan's expression flattered. 

Mark took another bite. "You look very warm. Your name is very appropriate for your personality. You're just… very cute", he added with a shy smile. 

Haechan continued staring at the other, unable to make a single sound. 

The other had a few other bites as if not noticing the way his words made Haechan feel then he finally raised his gaze. 

"Why are you not eating? Are you sick?" Mark inquired eyeing Haechan's sandwich. The boy finally sighed and looked up at the sky again. "Maybe". "Well, you'll get worse if you don't eat", Mark commented and grabbed the sandwich, unwrapping it and putting it into Haechan's hand with force. "I can't believe you're treating your supervisor like this. Calling him cute and forcing him to eat", Haechan stared at the food in his hand before taking a small bite, mostly to make Mark happy. The other shrugged. "You act like no one calls you cute every minute. Also, I am older than you. I can do that”. Haechan rolled his eyes. "I'm still your senior. You don't want to see me get mad. I can guarantee you that". Mark opened his mouth to say something dangerously similar to “cute” but then smiled instead, shaking his head. Haechan forced himself to keep a straight face. "If you say it again…", he warned the other. Mark cleaned his already clean fingers on a napkin then suddenly grabbed Haechan's cheek with two fingers. The boy's eyes got wide and he almost dropped his food, his mouth open in a surprised o. 

Mark smiled even more at his reaction, gulping his last piece of food while gently pinching Haechan's face as if he were a child. Then he let him go and got up, dusting his pants. "I didn't say anything this time", Mark explained innocently. 

Haechan looked up at him, still shocked. 

"I'll see you in the office. Finish your food", Mark told him and left. Haechan could distinctly hear Mark comment "so fucking cute" while he was descending the stairs.

_______

That night Haechan fell into his usual decadent slumber. He was almost fully unconscious, the twilight sleep making space for a depraved and troubled dream. Fingers twitching and muscles quivering, Haechan’s mind transformed his day yearning in darkness. Images of eyes and lips tormented him again. It has always been the same pattern, yet something new derailed the boy’s focus that night. Little details. The roundness of the eyes, the form of the lips, the touch of the fingers, the voice. That voice sounded different and it whispered something Haechan has never dreamt about before. A single word, soft but sensual, repeated again and again in Haechan’s ear. 

That morning, after a very long time, the boy woke up with a new name on his lips.

_______

Mark sometimes thought that everyone was just stupid besides himself. 

Not because of an unhealthy superiority complex or something, but because he couldn’t understand how everyone could be that blind. 

“Oh, Lara, I love your new blazer”, Haechan would say while walking around the company with Mark following suit. Poor Lara would blush and be genuinely happy about the compliment. But Mark could see that Haechan thought it was atrocious. And Adam’s stuttering speech a well. Oh, and Joseph’s wrinkly newborn. 

However, it wasn’t this fake persona Haechan had that made Mark uneasy. It was the one he would wear when talking about himself. Oh, I slept very well last night. No, I don’t need any help. Yes, everything is fine, what do you mean? Smiles and laughs and sarcastic comments. 

Mark wanted to know. He wanted to get closer and dust off the misty layer on Haechan’s eyes. 

Maybe Mark thought too highly of himself. Maybe it was his ego talking. 

I’m going to be the one to help Haechan, that’s the only thing he could think about. 

And lately, during sleepless nights, Mark would beat himself up about it. 

It’s not your business, Mark. You want this to feel a good person. 

Except, he would then frown and hug his pillow tighter, getting annoyed at himself. 

No, I would want it even it wasn’t me to help Haechan out. I just want to see him happy. 

Yeah. This sounds good. 

So he would drift away to sleep, peaceful, knowing that he was selfless. 

Alas, it took very little to Mark to realize that he wasn’t that selfless as he thought. 

Mark raised his eyes when Haechan’s abrupt manners opened the office door with a kick. “Haechan, you look good today”. The other smirked. “I always look good. What do you mean?” As if the literal sun entered the room. Mark was blinded. “Did something good happen?”, he watched Haechan’s hair bounce at his every step, like a little seedling gently moved by the breeze. Haechan’s smile widened as he sat down, rolling around in his seat, pure energy sprinkling from every pore. “So I guess the answer is yes,” Mark found himself smiling as well, although a bitter taste pasted his tongue on the palate as he spoke. “I just remembered how much serotonin a good fuck gives you,” Haechan opened his computer and started working on his tasks, not paying attention to Mark’s face. 

Oh. 

Mark hated it. Oh, he hated it so much. God, he hated it. 

The boy tried hard to not think about Haechan that day, resulting in him thinking about Haechan all day. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about his body touched by somebody else. 

It was almost lunchtime when Mark finally broke the silence. “So, now you’re dating someone?” Haechan raised an eyebrow, eyes still too focused on his computer to give his full attention to Mark. “What? No. Why?”, he mumbled distractedly. Mark blinked for a few seconds. Haechan finally processed and laughed. “You’re kinda sweet Mark. I just got dicked down, that’s all”, he got up and stretched his arms up with a whiny yawn. “Come on,” he lightly hit the other’s shoulder, “I think today’s menu is soup”.

______

Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark. 

It was as if Haechan was going crazy. 

It was just a dream. A single dream. 

When did this happen? How was it possible? 

“Fuck, Haechan, you’re-”, Jaemin gulped, his adam apple going up and down inside his stretched out throat just like Haechan’s body moved on top of him. “Yeah?” the directly concerned boy smiled. “-crazy today”, Jaemin concluded. “Who made you this horny?” Haechan bit his lower lip, hating his mind for not leaving that thought out, even if for a single second. “Call me--”, he ignore the other’s question, cheeks violently turning red. Jaemin groaned at the way Haechan sunk deeper on him in the process. “Call you what?”, he asked breathless, fingers tightening around Haechan’s painfully hard length. “Cute”, the boy finally whispered. And Jaemin said it, again and again until that word replaced Mark’s name from Haechan’s head.

_______

That day’s menu was indeed soup which only added to Haechan’s general euphoria. Mark walked one step behind him, troubled by the double sword his feelings formed inside his heart. His eyes were only on the younger’s face and Mark could only sigh every few seconds. 

Oh, I’m falling in love. I’m falling in love. 

Lost in his melodramatic thoughts, Mark didn’t notice when Haechan suddenly stopped.  “Hey, boys. Haechan,” a dude greeted generally before locking eyes with the younger one.  Haechan rolled his eyes and made a step back from where that guy was. The dude’s smile flattered as if annoyed at that obvious showcase of hatred towards him but kept his fake expression on as he looked at Mark instead. “So, I’m organizing this party downtown at the Garages. Do you want to come?”, he asked.  

Mark furrowed his eyebrows and eyed Haechan to see what the deal was about.  

Haechan huffed. “Mark doesn’t like parties and neither do I, Jungwoo. Thank you”, he replied snarkily while making a step to continue walking. 

Jungwoo smirked. “Says the party animal. You never mentioned it to me while I had you on my-”, but Haechan interrupted him, hitting his chest with the back of his hand. 

Jungwoo chuckled with satisfaction. 

“Oh, so the boy doesn’t have to know?” he asked indicating to Mark, faking innocence.”

Mark felt his jaw muscle flinch and a sudden urge to punch that dude in the face made his fists almost tremble. 

“The boy doesn’t like the way you’re making his friend uncomfortable right now”, he spoke with a cold voice not breaking eye contact. “Whatever happened between you before, now Haechan doesn’t want to see you again and certainly he doesn’t want to come to your party”. 

Haechan opened his mouth to say something but Jungwoo's laugh interrupted him. 

“Oh, but he does want to see me again and come to my party. Don’t you, Haechan?” the dude asked. 

“Of course I don’t, Jungwoo. Get fucked”, Haechan replied quickly, eyes rolling in their sockets, feet turning direction and walking away. 

“I bet I will”, Jungwoo shrugged with a little smile, throwing one finger gun at Mark.  “By Haechan”, he whispered with a wink while leaving him alone in the corridor. 

To Mark’s horror, despite those two’s abrasive conversation, he could definitely see that as a silent promise.

So Mark went there as well. 

Why? He didn’t know. He liked to think that he was concerned about Haechan’s safety. 

That Jungwoo guy had some rancid vibes and Mark hated the idea of the two together. Because he was concerned for his safety. 

Not because he was jealous or anything. 

Haechan could do whatever he wanted and sleep with whoever he wanted to, but what if, just what if, Haechan changed his mind and chose Mark over the Jungwoo dude? 

Mark could do that. 

Mark wasn’t self-centred but he still realized that Haechan deserved better and he could provide that. 

If that was Haechan needed to soothe the darkness in his eyes, Mark could do that.

But Haechan wasn’t there and neither was Jungwoo and the thought of that man’s hands on Haechan’s skin made Mark’s guts twirl on themselves. 

He looked around, frantically, breathing the sweat-impregnated air, trying to avoid being hit by people’s sticky shoulders. Until he started to feel sick, not only because of the loud music and blinding lights but also for some obscure reason, grabbing his throat and choking him. 

He had to drown that down.

_______

When Haechan arrived Mark was surrounded by people, eyes closed, face up exposing his neck, laughing and screaming, jumping and moving his body as Haechan has never seen someone do before. 

His legs were nicely on display in a pair of severely ripped black jeans that Haechan had no idea Mark liked to wear. 

The younger boy was so concentrated on the way a plain white T-shirt could look so good on a person that he noticed too late the way Mark directed his eyes towards him. 

He was far away and Haechan couldn’t decipher the other's expression but it didn’t matter as Mark quickly made his way to where the younger boy nervously stood. 

Mark was drunk. A lot. 

But he still somewhat fluidly avoided the crowd as if dancing until getting as close as hovering above Haechan. The boy had never noticed that Mark was taller until he had to raise his face to look up, his back and palms pressed against the wall. He didn’t notice when he walked backwards either. 

“Haechan”, Mark said his name with such worry to make the other’s heart beat like crazy. “Are you okay? Where have you been?”, or that's what Haechan deciphered from his lips since the music was so loud that his ribcage felt about to be ripped apart. “Home. I’ve just arrived”, Haechan yelled and Mark got even closer, giving his ear to the boy’s lips to hear better. 

Haechan couldn’t do anything else besides inhaling his odour. Mark was a little sweaty and his breath smelled of alcohol, but Haechan has never found someone sexier than him at that moment. 

His eyes were dark under his black curls and his lips looked swollen as if someone sucked on them. Haechan felt like prey and unconsciously pressed his body against the wall even harder.

“And where’s Jungwoo?”, Mark’s voice tingled Haechan’s earbuds. “I have no idea. Why would I know?”, Haechan replied, acting as if he didn’t realize why Mark was behaving like that. 

It made Haechan’s palms sweat. 

He thought about that a lot, at the way Mark got defensive of him in front of Jungwoo, at the way Mark’s expression darkened even after Haechan told them that he had no intention to go to the party, at the way Mark has been looking at Haechan a lot, at the way Haechan couldn’t just stop thinking about Mark for a single second either.  

He came to the party because of that. Haechan’s mind was running again and he wanted to stop it. And also because he played with his phone all day, looking at Mark’s number for a long time. 

Mark would have replied but did Haechan really want it? He was such a sweet person and Haechan didn’t dare to contaminate him with his presence. Mark didn’t deserve to be used as Haechan needed. 

So he went to the party, ready to contaminate somebody else instead. Who knew that Mark was there waiting for him? 

“I’ve been thinking about you the whole night”, Mark talked again after staring at Haechan as if trying to understand the younger one’s thoughts. Just like he has been for the past few months, making Haechan feel small and naked. "Yeah, I bet. While letting those people grind on you?" Haechan replied sarcastic trying hard to conceal his shaking voice. 

Mark got closer, bold and cocky, putting his hands on the wall, caging Haechan between his arms, leaning in and whispering into his ear. "Yeah, I was imagining you grinding on me", his confession tickled Haechan’s ear and the boy tried to move his head away on the side, afraid to do something he would regret, but Mark's hand was there and his head had nowhere to go. It wasn't right. 

Haechan was sober while Mark was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. He had to go away, push him back, but his limbs weren't cooperating. Mark's hand though was working just fine and it gently grabbed Haechan's face, turning it into his direction. 

"Haechan, please, let me kiss you", he begged, his breath caressing Haechan’s lips. 

The boy gulped down surprised, shivering with desire, fighting with himself. He put his hands on Mark's chest, with the intent of lightly pushing him away, but he was made of iron. No, Mark, no, please. You’re too precious to me for this. 

"You don't know what you're talking about", Haechan mumbled. 

Mark breathed heavily. His jaw muscles tightened. Then he put his head down as if trying to gain forces. 

"Yeah, sorry, okay okay, I'm leaving", he retrieved his arms and let them fall to his sides like dead flesh. 

Haechan looked at them with some relief, suddenly feeling exposed and cold, even if the club's air was so hot that it was hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just him having breathing difficulties. Haechan had no idea. 

"No, wait", his lips betrayed him. "Just-", Haechan interrupted himself, eyes squeezed together as if already regretting what he was about to say, unsure, holding Mark's wrist with both hands. Then he opened his eyes again. 

Mark was looking at him his heavy lids. His gaze wandered from his face to his exposed neck, then to his collarbones and chest. Mark was undressing him without touching anything and Haechan felt like going crazy. 

"-just a kiss. Okay? It's going to be a short kiss", Haechan continued, unable to believe he was actually saying that. 

But there was no harm in that. A little kiss. Just a harmless little kiss. Like the ones you'd have in college during stupid games. No one thought about those in the mornings.

But when Mark's lips curved in a little smirk and his body got as close as to press on Haechan's one again, the younger boy knew that it wasn't going to be just a kiss. Not for him at least. And not only he would think about it in the morning. He probably would think about it for a long time. And he was right. It was indeed memorable. Slow and careful but not timid. Mark cupped the other’s face, palm pressed on his jaw, fingers as far as touching his neck and ear, the other grabbing his hips, pulling them against his. Haechan’s head felt light and he couldn't fathom how Mark managed to have so much control when he was about to lose it all. And then it became even worse as Mark slipped his tongue inside of Haechan’s mouth and the younger boy had to tighten his grip around Mark’s torso. He whined into Mark's mouth, making the other hum back, picking up the pace, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, letting his hand fall from Haechan's face to his neck, then chest, then to his stomach, grazing the skin separated by Mark's fingers only by his thin button-down. 

Haechan had to stop him. It was going too far. That was a mistake. They still had to work together. There’s a reason why Haechan avoided talking to the coworkers he fucked before. Mark wasn't realizing that but Haechan did. He had to be responsible. 

Stop him, Haechan. Stop him. 

"Mark, wait", he broke off the kiss when Mark's hands reached his jeans button. The boy looked down at him, panting, eyes half-closed: he was begging Haechan to let him continue. 

Haechan grabbed his shirt and dragged him around the corner, into the shadows. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?", he warned him, shutting his brain off. "Okay", Mark replied quickly putting his mouth on Haechan's again as if unable to be away from it for too long. And he put his hands on Haechan's jeans again as well, opening the button, letting the zip fall slowly, tucking his hand underneath Haechan's boxers, feeling his soft and hot skin, wrapping his fingers around him tightly, not letting the struggling Haechan to break off the kiss to moan. And he didn't even last too long. The boy came shuddering all over Mark's fist after a few good strokes and the older finally let him press his face into his chest. 

Shit, he had never lasted this little. What the hell.

Haechan was fucking embarrassed and if Mark wouldn't have been too drunk to remember anyway, he would have just run away to hide in that exact moment. 

"Fuck", Mark cursed under his breath, feeling Haechan’s hot release on his skin, nudging at Haechan's temple with his lips while the other came down from his high.   "Oh, fuck, you're so hot like this, Haechan. And cute. Shit, you're so cute, I'm going crazy", he babbled before letting Haechan's cock go and trying to bring his fingers to his lips. "Oh no", Haechan gulped trying to stop him. "Mark, don't. You touched all sort of things in the club with that hand", and Mark stopped for a second as if processing the information before dropping to his knees and tasting Haechan directly. 

The boy opened his mouth in a silent gasp and he was still so aroused that feeling Mark's tongue made him hard again in a second. 

"Fuck", Haechan swore loudly, pressing his fingers into the wall behind him, letting his head fall back, feeling himself grow harder inside Mark's mouth. 

He didn't expect it. He didn't expect any of this. Innocent and soft Mark Lee sucking him off like no one has done before in the dark corner of a club? Haechan the slut coming in two seconds and getting hard again soon after? Past Haechan would have laughed, yet there he was, moaning Mark's name like a mantra, coming for the second time in minutes like a little virgin. 

It was no dream. It was a reality. 

Mark didn't let him go and Haechan felt like flying as his cum descended inside Mark's throat. And then he looked down right in time to catch a glimpse of Mark's eyes, looking up at him, letting his cock out with a lewd plop. "Mark, where did you learn that?", Haechan asked suddenly exhausted. The boy licked his lips and held onto Haechan to get up, shakily. "Was that good? It was my first time doing it", he mumbled with a smile before resting his head on Haechan's shoulder, the cocktail he had right before adding to his brain fog.

_______

Mark woke up to the sound of a heartbeat. It was a comforting sound. Deep and regular. 

He groaned softly as his lids realized they were getting hit by bright and irritating sunlight. Then he opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the windows first, vision blurry, then on the plant underneath it, then on the young man underneath him. 

Mark's muscles got a spasm and woke up completely as his brain finally made sense of what was going on. Meaning that his face was resting on Haechan's chest. Bare chest. And his own torso, bare torso, was wrapped by the boy's arms. 

Oh fuck, he thought. Oh shit. 

"It's too late in the morning to run away", Haechan mumbled, waking up softly as well. 

Mark froze as he was trying to get up. He was propped up on an elbow when Haechan opened his eyes and Mark felt his breath hitch. 

Haechan was there, pillow adorned with his luscious locks lying all around his head like a halo, chocolate eyes warmed by the sun shining through the windows and his skin, God, he looked like an angel. 

"I'm not going away", Mark lied, surprising himself by how deep and hoarse his voice sounded like. "Fuck, you're so cute right now", he whispered soon after, unable to control himself. 

Haechan's eyes got wider at Mark's words. He expected Mark to freak out, and Mark was freaking out inside a lot, but having Haechan like that, underneath him, vulnerable and beautiful as never before, made Mark feel peaceful at the same time. 

This is all he wanted in life. 

The older managed to keep it together for a few other seconds, trying to look confident, but when Haechan's cheeks reddened with blush, Mark lost it and blushed as well, rolling away, grabbing a pillow to hide his face in with a scream. 

"I can't believe it", his voice came out muffled. "Oh my God", he yelled quietly. 

Haechan started to chuckle embarrassed. "What an idiot". 

"How-", Mark removed the pillow enough for one eye to poke out. "How far-", he stuttered. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, faking nonchalance. 

"Just oral", he whispered while getting up and putting his feet on the ground, turning his back to Mark, unable to look at him in the face either. 

"Oh", the other sounded weirdly disappointed. Haechan pinched the base of his nose. That man was sending such mixed messages. "You did dry hump my ass if that makes things better", Haechan spoke through his teeth, embarrassed out of his mind, grabbing the bottle of water he kept on his nightstand. "I'm sorry. You deserve to get fucked properly", Mark replied quietly as if thinking at loud, making Haechan choke on his water and spit it all around the room. 

Mark sat up quickly and placed a hand on Haechan's shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

The choking boy turned around to face him. 

"I thought you'd be all embarrassed about this", he commented while drying his wet lips with the back of his hand. 

"I am!" Mark's eyes got wide and his red ears confirmed it, but it was still not what Haechan expected. 

"I mean", Haechan hesitated, unsure of what words to use, "I thought you'd regret it in the morning. You were really drunk last night and you had no idea what you were doing”. 

Mark's face visibly darkened. 

"Do you regret it?", he asked. 

Haechan went on with his phrase ignoring Mark’s question. "-like I was sober and I was worried that maybe I should have-". 

"Haechan". 

Mark's voice was so deep and serious that Haechan's heart started to beat faster upon hearing him calling his name like that. "Answer me. Do you regret it? Did I- fuck - did I do something wrong?", Mark asked ruffling his hair with one hand. He looked so worried and distressed that Haechan for a second didn't know what to say. 

"No", the younger finally shook his head. "No", he repeated. "I was aware of everything and I made my choice consciously but you-", Haechan hesitated again.  "Me too", Mark spoke up, nodding. "I remember everything until you helped me to get out of the club. After I sucked y-".

"Don't say it", Haechan stopped him with a raised palm. 

Mark chuckled embarrassedly. 

If only Haechan knew how cute he was being in that moment, faking his serious face and steading his voice. Mark would have wanted to see Haechan confess just how weak he was. 

"So you, like, you wanted it? Not because you were just drunk and I happened to be there?", Haechan asked timidly. Haechan couldn't believe he was so shy to talk about sex with someone. It has never happened before. Nothing he did with Mark happened before. 

Mark gulped down. "I wanted it, yeah. I didn't do it because I was drunk. I did it thanks to that. I don't think I would have had the courage otherwise", he explained. "But I'm also sorry. It mustn't be nice to- like--uh, you know, with a drunk person", he stuttered, eyes closing and opening as he thought about the words to use. 

Haechan looked down, shyly. "You were very hot actually", he whispered back, scratching the back of his head. 

"Haechan," Mark finally found his voice after a moment of shocked silence. "I swear to God, I would take you-", but interrupted himself abruptly. 

Haechan looked at him flustered. 

Mark cleared his voice. 

Then he shook his head. 

"No", he chuckled at himself. "Nothing, never mind", he added suddenly getting up, the covers sliding down his naked body. 

Haechan looked at it. He had looked at it the whole night. That night he kissed every inch of that skin and listened to Mark's soft moans. And Haechan realized that it wasn't a hookup. At all. Not for him. But Mark didn't remember that part and Haechan didn't want to tell him. If Haechan had to think about it for the next month, so be it. It was all on him. He let himself go too far and he wasn't talking about the physical aspect. It was all his fault if his heart was aching to see Mark get dressed instead of lying beside him, cuddling, or better, doing what Mark didn't dare to tell him.

_______

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?".

Forgetting. 

Mark wanted to forget but he couldn't do it. Not the day after and not on Monday morning, seeing Haechan's pretty lips so close to him and not being able to kiss them. 

Mark lied when Haechan asked him what he remembered. 

Well, not entirely, because he did forget some parts. 

But he was definitely lucid when Haechan went down on him, slowly, after kissing his lips, then his neck, sucking on his skin, then his chest and stomach as Mark wrapped Haechan's hair around his fingers. The boy asked multiple times if Mark was okay with that until Mark had to basically beg to just suck him off already. And God, he was so cute doing it. He would never forget how that felt. Divine. His head was so light as if zero oxygen got to it, every drop of blood concentrated inside of Haechan's warm and wet mouth instead. 

And he was staring at that mouth now, as Haechan explained the work to do for the day. Mark wasn't even that horny. No. He just wanted to hold him again and softly press his lips on Haechan's plump ones. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this". 

Haechan was sober when he said that. He meant it. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it. Right? Should he ask? Haechan, did you forget? Do you want to forget? Because I don't. 

And I can't. 

"Mark", Haechan snapped his fingers in front of him making the boy jolt. "Focus", he ordered. "What are you thinking about?".

You. I'm thinking about you. You. You. I've been thinking about you for days, Haechan. 

"Lunch", Mark shrugged. Haechan rolled his eyes. "What an idiot".

_______

That afternoon Haechan was in a relatively good mood. 

He should have known that the most peaceful days could bring the most terrible storms though. 

So he jolted at the sound of a voice he almost forgot how it sounded like. 

"Haechan, I thought you died or something". 

The boy in question looked up from his computer to see a pair of feline eyes. 

They were bright and amused. Then he saw the lips. Soft and pink stretched in a sweet smile. 

Doyoung was still like a house with all the lights on, but now it wasn’t empty anymore. Now everyone was home. This house was full of people, all happy and content. 

Haechan was so glad. He truly was. This is what he has always wanted to see since first locking eyes with that man. But he also felt suddenly miserable. Miserable and confused. 

His heart shouldn't have skipped a beat like that. Not anymore. 

"I did die and I just got back from hell", he replied, trying to sound as snarky as possible. It wasn't entirely a lie. 

"What about you? You also went missing". Doyoung blushed subtly at the innuendo and Haechan felt the urge to punch the table. Or himself. "I've been busy", Doyoung replied softly. "So you went to paradise instead, I see", Haechan commented with a smile hoping that no one noticed how fake it was.

_______

"A man can't have his alone time in peace. What do you want?", Haechan rolled his eyes while Mark sat down beside him, resting his back on the rooftop wall, looking in front of him at the blue sky. 

It was a sunny day with a slight breeze, enough for Haechan's fringe to wave gently. 

Mark loved it when the wind ruffled Haechan's hair but he couldn't bring himself to look at the younger boy. Not at that moment. 

"I didn't know", Mark whispered. "What?", Haechan's voice came out irritated but he didn't care. 

"That you were in love", Mark added. 

Haechan choked on his breath. 

"I'm not", he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his eyes as if sunbathing. Conversation over, it meant. An angry bronzing session. 

Mark finally looked at him then, feeling safe as he wasn't seen back. He watched the way Haechan’s skin glowed under the warm rays. Mark thought about how it would feel under his fingertips but he wasn’t sure. He touched it before but now he couldn’t remember it. Mark wanted to raise one hand and touch his cheek again, this time fully concentrating on the feeling. He wanted to let it slide down the boy’s jawline, feeling the sharp bone, then on his neck where the angry pulsating artery pumped blood at a crazy speed. Then he wanted to hear Haechan’s soft breath as his hand unbuttoned his shirt, this time feeling his heartbeat. Mark wanted it to be fast and only for him. For Mark. 

It all made sense now. But why does it have to be like that? What should Mark do? What do people do in this scenario? 

Was he thinking about this Doyoung guy? Has Haechan been thinking about other men? The whole time? While Mark was thinking about him? 

Was he imagining kissing that man's lips while Mark's mind was full of Haechan and Haechan only? 

Of course, he would. 

What was Mark thinking? Isn’t this what he accepted? Isn’t this what he decided to adventure in? Why was Mark suddenly so hurt about Haechan behaving as he anticipated him to do? 

We forget about this in the morning and Mark was certain now that Haechan actually did forget. 

"Does he know?", Mark asked after a while. Haechan snorted. "Of course he doesn't". "He doesn't know what?".

The other boy sighed at the trap. 

"Just leave me alone", he ordered. And Mark actually got up and left. 

Haechan's cheeks got wet right when it started to rain.

_______

"Mark, if you have something to say, just say it". 

It's been a few days of Mark not talking but still looking at Haechan as if about to burst in a monologue anytime soon. 

Haechan had been brusque with him before, but it never came to Mark not talking to him. 

The younger boy wasn’t stupid. It was obvious what was going on with Mark but Haechan didn’t have the force to deal with it sooner. 

"I don't have anything to say", Mark replied. "Do you have anything to say?".

Haechan rested his back on the chair and looked at Mark, irritated. 

"Okay, we need to sort this thing out. We can't work like this". "Like this how? We're working just fine", Mark didn't raise his eyes from the computer. "Mark, you've been writing and deleting the same line for a while now", Haechan indicated the screen with his chin. "Well, maybe something is going on with me but it doesn't have anything to do with you, so we don't need to talk about anything", Mark replied finally starting a new line. 

So Mark was able to lie as well, huh?

"Mark", Haechan lowered his voice. "Do you perhaps have feelings for me?", he whispered. 

"What?!" Mark yelled. 

Onew jolted on his seat. 

"Keep your voice down, you dumbass", Haechan put one hand on his thigh. Mark looked down at it then at Haechan's face. 

Haechan retrieved his hand back. 

Mark breathed heavily before talking. 

"It's just--”, he rested his back on the chair as well, “I've never been with someone like that before and I'm so confused right now, like, I don't know if I have feelings for you or just--like, I need closure?", he questioned as if talking to himself. 

Haechan was surprised that Mark told him all that. 

"You mean that you're a virgin?", the younger asked incredulously. "Uhm, I can hear you", Onew said. "Then get your ass up and take a stroll, Owen", Haechan spoke up. 

Mark flinched at his sudden and loud voice. 

Their colleague shook his head as if not believing he was dealing with some weirdos and got out of the office mumbling something about gen z people. 

"I am not a virgin. I meant hookups", Mark explained after a little pause while his cheeks acted like a virgin's. "You said you've never sucked someone before", Haechan raised one eyebrow. "It's alright if you're a virgin, Mark. You just have to tell me and-”, he interrupted himself as if realizing what they actually did, “-fuck, you had to tell me before as well. God, I acted recklessly, I should hav-".

"I am not a virgin! Stop saying that. I've never sucked before because I've been eating pussy, okay?", Mark raised his voice.

Haechan blinked at him. "So you're confused about your sexuality?" 

Mark rolled his eyes defeated. "I know what I like! I'm not confused. Just hear me out!" "You said you were confused just a minute ago", Haechan said. "But not about my sexuality. Because of the hookup!"  "Why are you yelling?", Haechan yelled.  "I'm not yelling!", Mark yelled back.  "You're arguing with me right now". "Because you're not listening! I don't know how I'm feeling about you because I've never slept around before. I-- just--don't like it", Mark stuttered.  "Then why did you sleep with me?", Haechan was exasperated.  Mark whined. "Because I liked you already”.  "So you do like me. You have feelings for me", Haechan raised his hands as if talking with a fool. 

The other shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable. 

"Don't all people like their hookup partners though? Like, would you sleep with someone if they were ugly as fuck? I don't think so. You still need to be attracted to them a little". 

Haechan sighed while massaging his temples. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Didn't you have crushes before? Don't you know what it feels like to be in love?".

Mark groaned tiredly. "I did. And I know. But this is different", he spoke with a softer tone. 

Haechan sighed. "So what? Am I supposed to help you figure that out? If you like me or not?". 

Mark straightened his tie and focused on his computer again as if the conversation was over. 

"Listen, you wanted to hear me talk, so I did". 

The younger boy stared at the other’s fingers as they started to type something, probably useless. 

"Do you even want to like me? Like what's your expectation?". 

Mark’s fingers stopped and he remained silent for a little while. "Well, you like somebody else, so it wouldn't be nice if I had feelings for you, would it?". 

Haechan prolonged the silence a bit. "I'm getting out of it".

Mark turned his head to him. 

That was a lie, Mark could see it. A blatant lie. 

"Do you want me to like you?", he asked. His voice was soft and low. 

Haechan thought about it for a second. He didn’t know what to say. 

Mark sighed, unable to wait like that, and closed his eyes, reclining back on his seat again. 

"I like you, Haechan. Okay? I like you, fuck. I don't care if you like somebody else". 

Haechan’s heart started to beat even faster than before. 

“Was this the problem, then? You were jealous?”, Haechan’s voice came out quieter than he intended. 

Mark opened his eyes and looked down at his hands clasped together. 

He shrugged. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I just needed to say it. I’m not asking for anything from you”, Mark directed his gaze towards Haechan. 

He looked so serious that it made Haechan’s cheeks get pink again. 

Mark’s eyes trembled imperceptibly at that reaction but he didn’t dare to say anything about it. 

He cleared his voice as Haechan couldn’t bring himself to add anything either and got back to work.

_______

It was very late at night. 

Haechan had no idea what time it was but it was not a time normal people would be awake at. 

He fidgeted under the covers, restless and irritated. He felt hot and his mind wouldn’t let him sleep. 

His hands found his phone after a while, ready to click on Jaemin’s name. But then his thumb slid down and it stopped over Mark instead. 

Haechan stared at the bright screen until he felt his eyes tear up from lack of blinking then just pressed it with a huff. 

Bad person Haechan. You’re a bad person. You’re such a bad person. A mistake. You did a mistake a now you were about to make another one.

“Yes”, Mark’s rough voice interrupted Haechan’s train of thoughts. 

The younger boy opened his mouth to breathe better and he let that monosyllable caress his ears even after the sound already died. 

“Hey”, Haechan whispered, closing his eyes, helping his other senses to get sharper. 

Mark groaned softly and shifted in his bed, probably turning in a more comfortable position. “Haechan”, he said in the same sleepy and deep voice and Haechan had to make an effort to not whimper into the phone. 

Why was Haechan so affected by this boy but at the same time so afraid of him? He shouldn’t have let Mark get so involved. Haechan should have put a wall between them the first time his lips said that first “cute”, then another one when he blatantly saw the way Mark’s eyes couldn’t leave him, then another one that night in the club, and another one when Mark asked him if Haechan wanted to be liked. And now as well. Just end the call. 

But he couldn’t. 

His walls were not strong enough for Mark and Haechan was a bad person. 

He liked it. He liked a lot. Haechan wanted more and more even if he could give back only darkness. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, Haechan said after waiting a few seconds to recollect himself. 

Mark hummed as if telling him that it was alright. “Is everything okay?” he asked and Haechan noticed the way Mark was slowly waking up by the growing concern in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, everything is good. I just…”, Haechan hesitated. 

Why did he even call Mark in the first place? Did he need company? Rude. Did he miss him? Gross. He was a bad person, using people when he needed, disregarding their feelings? Yeah. 

“I wanted to speak to someone”, he decided to be honest. 

Mark’s breath got louder for a second as if he laughed lightly. “I’m glad you thought of me, then. Unless you called other people first and no one replied”. 

Haechan smiled, feeling like a teenager talking to his first crush, then stopped, starting to hate himself. “No. You’re the only one I called”, he confessed. 

What was he doing? Bad. Bad Haechan. Bad. 

Mark went silent and Haechan listened to his breath for a while.

“You confuse me so much, Haechan”, Mark’s voice was a whisper and Haechan swallowed nothing, feeling his throat suddenly dry. 

Yeah. It was not fair. Not when Mark told him how he was feeling and Haechan couldn’t do the same. 

“But I’m not complaining”, Mark added before Haechan could apologize and end the call, finally getting to his senses. “I don’t care, Haechan. I like you so much. You can do whatever you want to me”. 

Haechan bit his lower lip. God, he hated himself. 

“Mark-”. “Would you do something for me?”, the boy interrupted him. “Mm? What?”. “Would you-”, Mark stopped, breath suddenly quicker, “-would you-uhm-- shit”, he repeated softly before chuckling, slightly embarrassed. 

Haechan’s skin got goosebumps, wondering if he understood what Mark wanted. His heartbeat started to pump blood at a crazy speed at it all went in a single place. 

So he did what Mark asked, even if he would end up being wrong, only because he wanted it too. He slid a hand under his t-shirt, slowly, until reaching his nipples, and whined into the phone. 

Mark went completely silent for a second. 

Haechan whined again a little louder. 

“Fuck, Haechan”, Mark’s voice trembled. "Are you-- are you touching yourself?”.

Haechan hummed. “My nipples”, he simply replied as he pinched them, playing with himself, feeling his boxers get tighter at every stroke. “Oh fuck”, Mark’s rough voice made Haechan squeeze his eyes together and open his mouth in a silent moan. 

They were both panting. Haechan couldn’t tell if Mark was just lying there and imagining or if he started to shyly let his hand slide south as well. 

“How does it feel?”, Mark inquired with a shaken voice and Haechan realized he still had too much control to be rubbing one out as well. “It feels so good, Mark”, the younger one replied, adding soft swears as his fingers got under the fabric of his boxers, letting the elastic hit his abdomen once, loudly, making sure Mark heard it as well. “Hmm -a-ah”, he wrapped his cock with his hand, pumping it slowly a few times, pressing his thumb on the slit. 

He didn’t need to exaggerate any sound. Knowing that Mark was listening could make Haechan go over the edge alone. 

“Haechan, you make me go so fucking crazy”, Mark’s shaking voice made Haechan bite his lower lip. “You too, Mark”, he confessed in the cloud of sensations. 

Then listened to the way the other boy’s bed sheets irrefutably shifted and the bed creaked and his breath hitched as he started to pleasure himself to the sound of Haechan’s whimpers and the image he had of him.  

They didn’t talk anymore. There was no need to and they weren’t able to either. Not having Mark near him, made Haechan last longer but it was still too quickly than usual so he stopped right before cumming, edging himself until the other whined into his pillow, cursing and calling Haechan’s name.

_______

Haechan avoided Mark the whole day. He told Mark that he had some other work and barely came into the office. 

The older boy would sigh every five minutes, mind racing, making the poor Onew groan. 

“He’s feeling awkward. You guys fucked, it’s normal”. 

Mark turned his head towards him as if awoken from a dream, cheeks blushing violently as soon as he made sense of the other’s words. 

“Also, you’re in love with him. I would avoid someone in love with me as well if I only wanted to fuck them,” Onew added as if talking about the weather. Mark was unable to speak. “He’s afraid to hurt you now”. 

“I told him it was alright, though”, Mark finally whispered, trying hard to suppress the hysterical little chuckle he would get when nervous or talking about embarrassing stuff. 

Onew got up with his empty coffee mug in his hand. 

“Show it. Do something that can make him realize that it’s okay for you to be in this type of relationship”, he added before walking out whistling with not one single worry in the world. 

Mark would have wanted to whistle as well but couldn’t. 

That advice was breaking his heart. 

It was true. Mark said that he was okay, but he was lying. 

Of course, he was not alright. 

He wanted to, oh he wanted so bad to be alright but it was so late. It was already late from the beginning. Mark didn’t want that kind of relationship. He wanted more. 

But Onew was also right. Mark had to do something. If being able to have Haechan like that meant breaking his own heart, Mark was ready to do it. 

And when that night he went to Jungwoo’s monthly party again, he forced his beating heart to stop upon seeing Haechan’s back. 

The young men’s slender figure was curved in a laugh, the pretty sound almost audible to Mark’s far away ears. Then Haechan sipped from the drink in front of him, still amused by the handsome bartender’s joke, and spun around in his chair right in time to see Mark being hit on by a woman. 

Haechan’s lips stopped on the edge of the glass, eyes unable to blink, staring emotionless at the way Mark’s lips curved in a timid smile while his hands weren’t timid at all, firmly grabbing that girl’s hips as she wiggled her ass against Mark’s crotch. 

Haechan turned around, placing the drink on the counter with a slightly shaking hand. 

“Everything alright?”, the bartender asked. 

Haechan didn’t reply and threw his head back, finished his cocktail in one gulp.

_______

It was quite early when the boy left the party. Haechan felt like suffocating in the middle of all those people breathing heavily, clouding his mind. 

Waiting for his taxi outside, ignoring the stares of horny people smoking and grinding against each other by the entrance of the Garages, he got reasonable startled when two hands suddenly wrapped his torso. 

But those were some delicate fingers and Haechan could recognize that cologne in a thousand others. 

Mark rested his face on Haechan’s shoulder and no one said anything for a little while, listening to the deep bass coming out of the club, the yelling and the traffic on the main road just a few blocks away. 

“Sorry if I startled you”, Mark mumbled. 

Haechan bit his lower lip and turned around, expecting a drunk and horny Mark yet again. But the boy’s eyes were wide and awake, his usual staring-as-if-reading-your-soul eyes met Haechan’s ones. 

The younger looked at them for a second then he eyed the bright red hickeys on the other’s neck as well as the slightly unbuttoned shirt. 

“I see you’ve had some fun tonight”, Haechan commented unable to hide his bitter tone. Not that Mark wouldn’t have been able to see through his fake face anyway. 

Mark licked his lips and tugged Haechan’s hips towards him. 

"Is this alright?", his voice was low and sultry, ignoring Haechan’s little jab, caressing his lower back instead. 

Haechan started to pant softly, unsuccessfully trying to take a step back then he gulped down staring at the other’s lips getting each second closer. 

"We can pretend it didn't happen", Mark went on, "just like we've always done, isn’t that right?", and Haechan could have sworn that Mark was a little pissed off. “Fucking at night then pretending we don’t know each other during the day, huh? Isn’t this what you want? I can do that”. 

Mark's fingers reached the hem of Haechan's t-shirt by now, hiking it up slowly, dragging his fingertips on his skin. It was warm, just like Mark had always imagined. A loud cheer mixed with glass shattering made Haechan flinch but Mark shushed him, every second closer until they were breathing each other's air. 

"I really want to take you right now, just like this". 

Mark's whisper made both of their hearts beat like crazy.  The first, not believing he was talking like that, the second, not believing that Mark was telling him that. 

And when Haechan finally closed his eyes, ready to melt into the kiss, Mark's lips ghosted his cheek and neck instead, fingers still drawing little circles on the younger's chest, resting his palm on the beating heart. Then he pulled away. 

“It’s a shame that you’re pushing me away like this”, Mark straightened his back and walked away.

_______

Mark was a weird guy. 

And when Haechan bumped into him inside the local supermarket near his apartment, a large sweatshirt on his frame, boyfriend jeans, ruffled hair, a little stubble, concerned expression behind his golden round glasses, the tip of his tongue out, licking his lips mindlessly, deciding what brand of cereal he wanted, Haechan felt the urge to go there and yell at him that he's in love. 

Haechan never liked the "what are we" question. 

Everyone around him asked that. What are we? Friends. Friends with benefits. Nothing, we're just fucking. Haechan has never adventured there. But now, looking at Mark's profile, his hand finally picking up the cereal pack, Haechan wanted to ask him that question. 

What are we, Mark? 

Because I want us to be something. 

I want to claim you in ways that give other people no place to do the same. 

Not a friend, not a colleague, not a friend with benefits. 

An etiquette that only Haechan could claim. 

Even if Haechan didn’t deserve that. 

Mine. My boyfriend. Mine. Mine. All mine. 

Was that wrong? Probably. 

But Haechan felt no remorse. 

Was that love? Haechan was unsure but he wanted to find out. 

So he walked over. Was Mark there because he hoped to see Haechan? "Oh, Haechan", Mark seemed genuinely surprised when the younger called his name. "What are you doing here?", the boy asked. 

Mark looked around briefly as if suddenly not knowing where he was. "The meat here is higher quality than the supermarket near my apartment", he explained and Haechan could see the way Mark's expression screamed honesty. 

He wasn’t there because of Haechan. Mark might have had a crush on the other but he was slipping away now. 

Come back, Mark. Come back to me. Call me cute again. Touch my skin. Don’t do this. Don’t play with me like this. 

"Haechan", Mark's voice wavered as the boy got suddenly closer. "We're in public". 

Haechan didn’t look away. “You didn’t care about the public last night. You let that slut fuck you in front of everyone then you dared to flirt with me and leave me on the edge like that?”, he confronted him. 

Mark’s little stunt made the younger so mad the day before that he felt like bursting in his pants during the drive home. Cheeks flushed and trembling hand, he didn’t even bother to walk to the bedroom. He closed his eyes and threw his head back to rest against the entrance door as soon as he stepped into his empty apartment. He came and came, again and again, until he felt too sensitive to touch himself anymore. God, he was so mad. 

“Haechan, are you jealous?”, Mark’s eyes relaxed, the cereal pack still between them, the gaze of some elderly ladies not leaving their backs. 

Haechan’s jaw muscles flexed. “Yeah. I am. I am jealous. I am fucking jealous. Okay? I hate it. I hate that you sleep with other people. You’re mine and mine only”, Haechan spat out quickly before he could regret saying it. 

He was panting and he didn’t even have to look at himself to know that he was all red. 

Mark’s breath hitched in a startled laugh. 

“And I hate that you have all of this control over me. I was done, okay? I was done with feelings and here you are, doing all of this bullshit to me. Your little game worked. Are you happy?”. 

Getting out of the apartment that late morning, Mark didn’t anticipate getting a confession from Haechan in the cereal aisle while said person looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, doe eyes and a trembling lower lip. 

God, he was so cute, Mark wanted to grab his face and kiss him. 

“You saw my game and played by my rules?”, Mark asked impressed. 

“You didn’t even give me time to play at all! I got defeated before starting”, the other admitted frustrated. 

Mark chuckled. “Why are you getting mad at me, Haechan? You ignored me in the first place, sleeping with other people.” 

The boy huffed exasperated and walked away, bumping Mark in the shoulder, making the other pirouette and grab him by the forearm. 

“I was joking. Come on”, he cooed. “This is what I’ve always wanted”. 

Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek, annoyed. “What? Me making a fool out of myself?”

“Showing yourself to me”, Mark replied kindly. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, still using his faking-nonchalance-to-not-show-his-feelings technique, but Mark was already immune to that. In fact, he has been immune to that from the start. 

Haechan loved it. 

Haechan loved it so much that he got scared. It was too good to be true.

________

It was pouring heavily when they got out of the supermarket. Haechan had his apartment windows open and they could smell the scent of rain, clean and refreshing. 

It was cold but Mark's body heated the boy in a second, groceries fallen on the floor, wrapping his arms around the other’s frame. 

They did not kiss and Haechan was quite surprised but he didn't say anything, hiding his face the crook of Mark's neck instead, inhaling all of his favourite scents at the same time. 

"I called you upstairs for a different reason," Haechan mumbled, surprised at the sudden softness, the sound of his voice muffled by the other's slightly damp sweatshirt. 

"I know," Mark whispered against his temple. 

He placed a delicate kiss there, then another one slightly below, then another one, drawing a line until reaching the jaw. Haechan raised his face and Mark kissed the corner of his lips, then the other cheek, and jaw again, and the other temple. 

Haechan closed his eyes with a little smile as if giving up. 

Mark, what are you doing?".

"I want you to think", the other replied, lips still busy. Haechan scoffed. "I want to stop thinking". "I want you to think about me". 

His lips reached Haechan's forehead and stayed there for a little. 

The only sound was the rain and Haechan's quick heart. 

"I already think about you a lot", Haechan confessed, face close to Mark's collarbones. 

"And why do you want to stop?" the other murmured. 

His voice was so relaxing and calming that Haechan for a second forgot why was he trying to not think about Mark in the first place. Why was he pushing him away? Why has he been pushing him away all of that time?

Then he remembered when Mark's hands slid down Haechan's back. 

"Because I'm a bad person". Mark sighed as if he expected that but still wanted to hear the other say it. "You're not a good judge". Haechan tsk-ed. "Well, thanks, I guess." "I am the one who has to decide if you're a bad person or not, and I say that you're not." "You're blinded by love”. 

Mark hugged Haechan even tighter. 

"Yeah, I am, so Haechan, please, let me love you", his tone darkened suddenly. "Stop pushing me away. I can handle anything". 

"I'm going to fuck up", Haechan shook his head. 

"You won't and if you do, I still want to take my chances. What if I fuck up before you do?" 

Haechan laughed, resting his chin on Mark's chest, rising his face to look at the boy in the eyes. "Mark, you're a saint".

The saint’s eyes were those of a sinner though when he pressed his thumb on Haechan’s plump, lower lip. 

"Have you ever made love to someone before?", he asked with a deep voice. 

Haechan's eyes widened with amusement. "Are you joking? I’m a hoe.” 

Mark hummed. "No. I said, love. Have you? Because I haven't either and I desperately want to make love to you right now". 

And Mark was right. 

Haechan had never made love with someone before and he realized it as soon as the other's hands cupped his cheeks, kissing his lips softly, pushing him back towards the bed, making him sit on it, letting Haechan watch as Mark elegantly took away his sweatshirt first then the shirt underneath it. 

Haechan blinked, emotions he has never felt before invading his whole body as Mark pushed him down with a gentle touch, kissing his stomach and going up, taking Haechan's top with him, letting the cold air caress his skin making it all shiver. It would have shivered anyways, goosebumps forming at every feathery touch of Mark's lips. They took away all of the remaining clothes, touching each other slowly, curiously, exploring everything, with fingertips and lips and tongues. Attentive, remembering which stroke made the other whine louder, what kind of whisper pleased the ears more, what pet name made the other blush. 

It was still raining hard, but they weren't cold, tightly wrapped in each other arms, the heavy covers to hide their secret whispers from the world. They were hidden in giggles and heavy breaths, "here?", "yeah", "like this?", "hmm", and Haechan felt so present. He was there, at that moment and he was seen. Mark was looking at him, really looking and Haechan didn't have to do anything to make it happen. There was no reason to put on an act. He just had to be himself. Vulnerable and- "cute," Mark whispered, chests rising, short breaths, his thumb caressing Haechan's red cheeks. 

"Say it again", Haechan smiled. 

Mark imitated him, his lips murmuring the word until they didn't have to, the feeling of it lingering in the air by itself.

[bobbystompy]

91 Quotes I Enjoyed From 2020

Below are my favorite quotes from 2020. Though most occurred throughout the year, some took place before but were encountered during.

1) “You don’t have to be new to make new.” - Rick Rubin

2) “He put the beat on and go to sleep then wake up with a verse.” - The Lox

3) “Every opinion is bad.” - Blink-155

4)

(via Twitter)

5) “At the start of every disaster movie, there’s a scientist being ignored.”

6) “Be brave enough to suck at something new.”

7) “Comedy is the only job you can have where you can use everything you know” - Robin Williams via Dave Chappelle

8) “What’s the worst swear word where you live?” - Josiah Hughes

9) “Cookies are a really great way to get everybody to like you for a short period of time” - YSAC

10) “The worst dancer at a wedding is the one who’s not dancing.” - John Mulaney

11) “I never saw the end of the tunnel. I only saw myself running out of one." - Kobe Bryant

12) "A good movie begins as you're walking out of the theater" - Ethan Hawke

13) “When I was young and starting in cinema, there was a saying that I carved deep into my heart which is, 'The most personal is the most creative.’ That quote was from our great Martin Scorsese.” - Bong Joon-ho

14) “Run to the rescue with love, and peace will follow” - River Phoenix via Joaquin Phoenix

15) “Thank you -- I will drink until next morning.” - Bong Joon-ho

16) “Men will bury their emotions for decades and then take it all out on children tubing while they drive the boat.” - @krauter_

17) “They help you with the dumb face stuff, but they don’t tell you how to fix it” - Adam (Nate’s friend), on having older sisters

18) “We all had our connections, but it’s not the details themselves that matter, it’s the feeling behind them. There are a million coming-of-age tales. Lady Bird’s secret sauce is how deeply its creator gave a shit. The older I get, the less I care about anything but the sense of a filmmaker’s personal connection to the material. It doesn’t matter what it’s about, what genre it is, or whether it’s genre at all. I only really care that it feels like something the filmmaker had to tell me, and that it was that filmmaker in particular who had to tell it. It has to answer the ‘why are you telling me this’ question, and not just why are you telling me, but why are you telling me.

Lady Bird is a movie that feels like only Greta Gerwig could’ve made. And it’s only because it’s so specific to her that it can be so meaningful to so many people.” - Vince Mancini

19) "I have cast some lonely votes, fought some lonely fights, mounted some lonely campaigns. But I do not feel lonely now.” - Bernie Sanders

20) “Ever hear a Beatles song you haven’t heard before?”

21) “Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you're allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It's like killing yourself, and then you're reborn. I guess I've lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.” - Charles Bukowski

22) “You shouldn’t have to hear a band to know if they’re good or not” - Josiah Hughes

23) “I was raised by OGs.  Some of you were raised by IG.  I understand.” - Ice-T

* * *

[Here is where I note the line of demarcation that was the COVID-19 pandemic hitting the US, pushed forward by Tom Hanks’ announcement, the NBA and NCAA shutting down, and, then, the nation itself.]

* * *

24) “There are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen.” - Vladimir Lenin

25) "Taken together, this is a massive failure in leadership that stems from a massive defect in character. Trump is such a habitual liar that he is incapable of being honest, even when being honest would serve his interests. He is so impulsive, shortsighted, and undisciplined that he is unable to plan or even think beyond the moment. He is such a divisive and polarizing figure that he long ago lost the ability to unite the nation under any circumstances and for any cause. And he is so narcissistic and unreflective that he is completely incapable of learning from his mistakes. The president’s disordered personality makes him as ill-equipped to deal with a crisis as any president has ever been. With few exceptions, what Trump has said is not just useless; it is downright injurious." - Peter Wehner

26) "Epidemics have a way of revealing underlying truths about the societies they impact." - Anne Applebaum

27) “A funny thing about quarantining is hearing your partner in full work mode for the first time. Like, I’m married to a ‘let’s circle back’ guy — who knew?” - Laura Norkin

28) 

(Jojo Rabbit)

29) “The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. - Deadwood: The Movie

30) “All bleeding stops eventually.” - Deadwood: The Movie

31) “Our Father, which art in heaven… / Let him fucking stay there” - Deadwood: The Movie

32) “It’s like a power outage, but we still have power” - Ryen Russillo, on the pandemic

33) “Whenever Sox baseball returns, it’ll be weird to not have Farmer on the call any more. The relationship between a fan and longtime announcer is always built in the little moments. One afternoon, he’s the soundtrack as you clean the garage. On another night, he’s your bookmark for the game as you stand in line for churros or walk down the ramps at Sox Park to try for better seats in the 100 level. A voice like Farmer’s becomes so familiar that you only really notice when it’s no longer there.” - Kevin Kaduk, on the passing of Ed Farmer

34) 

(via Twitter)

35) “In my songs, I try to look through someone else’s eyes, and I want to give the audience a feeling more than a message” - John Prine

36) “Observe everything. Admire nothing.” - Generation Kill

37) “Trump, by that definition, has always been a wartime president -- always willing to sacrifice people he doesn’t know to things he only sort of cares about” - David Roth

38) "Whenever they speak Michael Jordan, they should speak Scottie Pippen." - Michael Jordan

39) "Fiction is a bridge to the truth that journalism can't reach." - Hunter S. Thompson

40) “Airlines sending me “we’re in this together” emails. When my suitcase was 52 pounds I was on my own.” - Mike Dentale

41) “Sometimes you can be the worst source of your own story” - Ryen Russillo

42) “Family is not necessarily blood, but instead who you would bleed for.”

43)

(via Twitter)

44) "This is the deal that Jordan made, knowingly or unknowingly — that he would trade everything he had for everything he wanted. And then, when he won all those things, he found that he had nothing but that.” - David Roth

45) “I’m brand loyal, but the brand doesn’t matter” - Caitie Miller, on why she doesn’t like generic peanut butter

46) “NOBODY shitposts Gene Hackman!!” - Mark Dehlinger

47) “When a man concludes that any stick is good enough to beat his foe with—that is when he picks up a boomerang.” - G.K. Chesterton

48) “You can be appalled forever, but shocked only once.” - Jeff Weiss, on early Eminem

49) “Whether I’m pessimistic or optimistic, the fight’s the same” - David Simon

50) “Freedom can never be completely won, but it can be lost.” - Bernard Simon

51) “Racism in America is like dust in the air. It seems invisible — even if you’re choking on it — until you let the sun in. Then you see it’s everywhere. As long as we keep shining that light, we have a chance of cleaning it wherever it lands.” -Kareem Abdul Jabbar

52) “In a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist -- we must be anti-racist.” - Angela Davis

53) “Start as close to the end as possible” - Kurt Vonnegut, on creative writing

54) “You can’t stay woke all the time — that’s insomnia.” - Dr. Cornel West

55) “No, I get it. I’ve dated a lot of Geminis.”

56) “The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.” - John Krakauer, Into The Wild (via Tyler Keller)

57) "I couldn't show them my For You because it's pretty much just lesbian stuff and depression memes" - Maggie Loesch, on showing TikTok to her coworkers

58) "It's 1 a.m. in Slovakia and I've already had one bottle of wine and I don't know how long this press conference will go, so good luck to me." - Marian Hossa, following his NHL Hall of Fame announcement

59) “All I want in life is to go on an Anguilla group trip” - Mandy Gilkes

60) “You miss old friends when you don’t see them, but you miss them more when you do.” - Chuck Klosterman

61) “The only way to appreciate the present is to pretend it’s already the past.” - Chuck Klosterman

62) Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth, oh, never mind You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth Until they've faded, but trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back At photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now How much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked

(”Everybody's Free [To Wear Sunscreen]”)

Second time that essay’s been quoted on this list.

64) "I mean, it's just human nature to suck up to the people above you, crap on those beneath you, and undercut your equals” - Brian, Family Guy

65) “You never quit a job. You quit a manager.” - Brian Bedford

66) “All the pictures in my house are of people I’m not friends with” - Tracy Cunningham

67) “In order to leave something behind, you have to leave.” - Dr. Herman, Grey’s Anatomy

68) 

(via Twitter)

69) “You can obsess about death if you don’t have to obsess about dying.” - Brendan Kelly via “White Noise”

70) “If it’s right to do, it’s wrong to wait.” - Andy, doorman 

71)

72) “When I'm sometimes asked when will there be enough [women on the Supreme Court] and I say, 'When there are nine,' people are shocked. But there'd been nine men, and nobody's ever raised a question about that.” - Ruth Bader Ginsburg

73) "America is mostly people who’ve never left their state saying we have the best country in the world." - Billy Wayne Davis

74) “A writer is someone who knows at least 80% of their writing sucks.” - Gabe Hudson

75) 

(via Twitter)

76) “You’re dead twice” - Brendan Kelly

77) “Perfect is the enemy of good” - Voltaire (via Zach Lowe)

78) “I don’t want to be a savior, I want to be a mirror.” - Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

79) “I get bad Twitter FOMO but not real life FOMO. That just goes to show I need to get off the Internet.” - Josh Thomas

80) “Is there anything you love in life that you engage with seriously that you don't also engage with humor?" - Sam Sutherland, on his relationship with Blink-182

81) “My favorite genre of music is my friends' bands" - Josiah Hughes

82) “Let’s fall in love like both our parents aren’t divorced.”

83) “Seabiscuit may be the only earthling that was on both sides of the stamp.” - Brendan Kelly

84) “There’s no shame in coming in second, except in, like, wars.” - Family Guy

85) “I feel like I experience writer’s block 100% of the time, and when I do write, I have impostor syndrome.” - Phoebe Bridgers

86) “We teach based on what we most need to learn.” - psychologist on Grey’s Anatomy

87) “Having too many choices is the leading cause of stress” - Grey’s Anatomy

88) “I think we've all gravely underestimated the extent to which this year has changed all of us, permanently” - Kelli Maria Korducki

89) 

(via Twitter)

90) “I wonder if people understand why they don’t have polio” - Sandra E. Garcia

91) “Ending songs is terrible, so let’s keep singing” - Dave Hernandez

[dreamcatcherrs]

august - ranboo x reader

+ disclaimer! I don't know if ranboo actually has a cat :)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ranboo x f!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ranboo can’t help but to blush every time you look at him, not realising that he was falling even harder for you than he realised.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.478

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :)

song recommendation: august - taylor swift

the first time he’d spotted you was in science class, near the end of the school year. that one time you looked up and smiled at him because of something stupid he’d said to his friend, that you for some reason found funny - he couldn’t stop thinking of that smile for the rest of the day. the image of you stuck in his head.

the next time he saw you was in p.e. you were wearing those pretty red sports shorts that you always wore, but he for some reason had never noticed until now. and whenever you’d walk or run past him, the smell of vanilla would follow behind you, filling his nostrils with the scent, and it felt heavenly. from that day on, he decided that he really liked the smell of vanilla.

weeks went by before you first talked to him. you were sat behind him and had poked his shoulder to ask him if he had a spare pencil for you to borrow. he breathed in, eyes wide from surprise. were you talking to him? it was only when you tilted your head to the side with a playful smile on your face that he realised he’d been zoned out, completely forgetting that he had to respond.

“uh- yeah, sure.” he’d fumbled with his backpack, trying to fish out his pencil case only to remember… he didn't have one. he moved his hands back again, looking back up at you as you leaned over the table with a patient smile on your face. “uhm… actually, I don't have one either.”

that made you laugh, and he was just confused, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “well, I guess I can't really complain about that,” you giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m y/n, by the way. we have science together, I just don't think we ever got the chance to talk.” he grabbed the hand you’d put out to shake, staring into your bright eyes as you shook his hand. were there stars in your eyes? it looked like there was a whole other universe in there.

“I guess not-”

“hey, you two. eyes up here.” mr. jefferson, you douche-

“sorry mr. jefferson!” you apologised, before turning to send him a playful smile. as if you two had a secret that no one else knew about. he wondered if that smile was always able to get you out of trouble. he thought about it for a while as mr. jefferson explained the different historic sculptures, and then came to the conclusion, that no one could be mad at a person with such a smile for very long.

“aww, you never told me you had a kitty!”

he threw his backpack onto the arm chair in his living room, letting out an exasperated sigh as you followed behind him, or rather, followed his cat behind him. he turned around to see you crouched down beside his cat, softly petting it  with the cutest smile on your face.

“yeah. pretty cute, right?” he joined you by petting the purring creature, heart bubbling with how cute the sight in front of him was. he wasn't just talking about the cat.

“well, should we get started?” you asked, shrugging your own backpack off and getting out a small notebook. he’d noticed you wrote in it a couple of times during the class before.

you’d both been assigned for a science project together - what a coincidence. he wasn't complaining though - not at all. you’d had fun times together in class since, now being sat beside each other. you’d gone to his place to put in some extra work ethic. “you’re lucky I actually like science! then we’ll get some work done.”

you plopped down on his couch, taking in the comfiness for a moment, before fishing out your computer. “are you implying something?” you giggled at his question, lifting a finger at him.

“that I do all of the work in science class while you sit and stare at me? yes.”

a wave of heat flooded over him, cheeks and ears turning red and his palms sweating up. was it that obvious?

you patted the spot on the couch beside you for him to sit down, a small smile etched onto your face. he did so, finding a comfortable way to sit in before looking over at your computer screen. you turned you head to him, scooting closer when you noticed he could barely see your screen. as if that would help his sweaty armpits and rosy cheeks…

“okay, do you remember our lesson about polar and non-polar electronegativity?” his face was blank. the words were foreign to him. was that the day you wore that pink lipstick? or did he just think that because he thought it looked so good on you?

you rolled your eyes playfully at his lack of response, proceeding to point at the screen and explain to him what it means. he listened to start off with, but then soon realised that his thoughts had drifted off to another place, eyes gazing over to look at you instead of the screen. and instead of listening, he started thinking about the way your lips moved - how cute and perfect they were. and how much he wanted to kiss them.

he lost his train of thought when you turned your head to him again, a frown on your face when noticing how lost in thought he was, clearly not paying attention, yet your look of disbelief quickly turned into a surprised expression. was he looking at you?

“you’re not listening.”

he looked bewildered for a moment, but quickly managed to clear his throat awkwardly, eyes turning to the screen again. “sorry.”

you began to explain again, and this time he only glanced over at you once when... was that blush on your cheeks?

the first time he kissed you was one month later, summer break. you were at the local park, basking in the rays of sun as the summer was soon to end. the smell of freshly mowed grass was all that filled your nostrils, and the fresh breeze every now and then was enough to keep you from melting under the heat of the sun.

you were sat at a nice waterfall, your backs turned towards it as you ate the sandwiches you had just bought. the sound of water trickling out of the different places on the statue was pleasant for your ears, peaceful really.

he’d gone to push his longer hair out of his face, and then rest his hand beside him, in the middle of the two of you. but instead of meeting a cold surface, his hand met your soft one, that was already resting right where he was about to put his hand.

he heard you gasp softly, head turning to look down at your hands. he looked back at you with wide eyes, which you quickly returned when realizing what had happened, a rosy colour spreading over your cheeks. and right then, he couldn’t help himself. he knew you hadn’t known each other for that long, but he knew you. and he for sure knew that he liked you.

as your eyes stared into his, head slightly leaning in, he kissed you. soft and sweet and short, and when he pulled back again, your eyes were closed and you didn’t look displeased at all. and that’s when he knew, you liked him, too.

“ranboo, I swear, if you rest your arm on my head one more time!”

he laughed at your small threat, removing his arm from its comfortable place on the top of your head. he ruffled your hair, just to annoy you, with a playful smirk on his face. you pouted at him, fixing your hair again and softly shoving at his chest.

“fine~ I’ll stop. you’re just so short, it’s hard not to,” he giggled, patting the top of your head lightly as he smiled down at you brightly.

“maybe you should just be shorter. then I won't have to get on my toes all the time to kiss you.” you crossed your arms, staring up at him with a smirk on your face.

he shrugged. “nah. I kinda like seeing you struggle with that.”

you rolled your eyes and let out a low grumble, acting like a kid who was just told they weren't allowed any candy. before you knew it, a dandelion was pushed back into your hair, followed suit by a quick peck on your cheek. your lips parted in surprise, eyes staring up at him again, before reaching your hand up to gently touch the flower, a small smile spreading across your face.

“now,” he started, leaning down to intertwine his fingers with yours. “shall we go out to enjoy the last day of august?”

_____________________________________

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[maddiefriendlovesbilly]

Spencer x Ghost?

Spencer x Ghost

(AAAAA- it has been months since you sent this to me, and all i can say is im so sorry) Side note I have my friend @lethalbreadkills helping me with this one!

For reference: Maddie (maddiefriendlovesbilly) is green, Jimmy (lethalbreadkills) is red (((its 4:30 at the time i have joined this so im dead braincell wise sorry yall))) and Orange is stuff we decided together :3

Also this is so very chaotic im so sorry for this anon but this has been in my fuckin drafts for SO LONG and this is the only way its getting finished (its now 5 am uwu) im so sorry for all the shitposting i do its a mess. I shouldnt have been allowed here. (we finished at about 5:30 am its hell <3)

Sphost? Ghencer?? Sphoster??? I adore and despise them all equally.

We have decided that it should be BeanieGhost

Anyway I think this ship is really cute

They’re both so neurotic I can only imagine the chaos that would ensue

One of them starts a rant on some topic and the other joins the hell in

I’m an advocate of LETTING SPENCER INFO DUMP BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT OKAY

And Ghost would let this dream come true???

I would die for both of them and if Spencer told me I had to die I wouldn’t even complain, no questions I’d just be like “Aight.” I trust him that much.

(Not sure I trust Ghost’s judgment enough to do that unquestioningly; sorry Ghost)

Back on topic

I can’t imagine these guys on anything that comes close to society’s definition of a date

It’d be more like “hey you wanna come on this hunt with us?” “maybe, depends if there’ll be snacks” or like chilling in Spence’s room binging the entire star trek: original series in one sitting or “oops sorry about that level 11 entity that attached to my soul and is now wreaking havoc in your house, wanna make out later to make up for it?” “Fine but you also have to play three rounds of Call of Duty with me afterward”

They wouldn’t be romantic often but like highkey? I can see them throwing themselves into the line of fire for each other with a recklessness only they could survive

We can’t forget that Spencer is a more than 60,000-year-old overpowered demon/god/entity/thing, which, yes, could throw a slight wrench in this ship for multiple reasons, but I choose to make angst out of it instead.

Side note: Ghost is a chronic conspiracy theorist (and you can’t tell me otherwise) and every once in awhile Spencer will offhandedly say something like “Y’know I helped the Egyptians build the pyramids” and Ghost just goes fucking feral.

Look, I’m not saying Spencer IS touch-starved and most likely has issues creating and developing relationships and therefore avoids interpersonal connection, especially offline, but I AM saying he is prime material for it. (thats a lie thats exactly what shes saying don’t believe it) (I’m projecting okay dont judge me) (loser imagine projecting)

Imagine with me for a second: Why does Spencer willingly stay with a family who locks him in their basement with only minor complaining? He’s a near all-powerful entity just released into the world for Spence’s-sake - If he wanted to, there’s no telling what havoc he could wreak! So why doesn’t he? Why would someone so powerful, so terrifying, so dangerous that a group of people decided to seal him away forever stay with the first family he finds in sub-par conditions for years - especially someone who’s seen to be as high-maintenance as Spencer? Let me hit you with a theory: He’s chasing the feelings of validation, safety, and love - no matter how rarely it’s shown - that a family can provide. Being socially isolated for even a few years can do a number to a person’s psyche (I should know, I’m projecting onto this character right now), let alone thousands.

Now maybe Ghost can’t match thousands of years in isolation, but damn if he doesn’t have a few years of crippling loneliness on his record too.

I can see the two of them learning how to be vulnerable around others together, emotionally and physically; learning how to open up and how to talk through issues; and some third point, because points are better in threes.

(May I suggest that these losers are both trans but thats just me adding in my own projection lmao)

(You absolutely may)

Imagine the conversation thats just “so i have a murderer in my head thats an ass” “rip to u ig sounds like a you problem :///”

imo spence has trouble expressing emotions other than like,,, annoyance and haughtiness, its like sort of his go-to defence, so showing Ghost his emotions is a big step for him

I hear you, and i say yes good. (found this one headcanon that i kinda live by where he was uh, either autistic or adhd i dont remember but theres that too) OH yeah that would be at thing huh. Spencer: *is emotionally vulnerable @ ghost* ghost: oh shit im trusted??? Oh fuck uh.

Yeah so like…. Ghost and spence showing emotion at eachother is kind of :flushed: ghost be like: whats an emotion. Imagine having emotions fuciiing loser hhaha,,,, *laughs nervously*

Ghost is also very emotionally distant with most people so it would probably be like “what??? The fuck?? Emotions?????? You have those???”

Ghost and Spencer be like *gay*

So another idea is that maybe Spencer realizes Ghost doesnt play any games [like the uncultured SWINE he is] and decides he must [remedy] this and so he introduces him to like, nintendo first. (some bitches thought that said nintendo fortnite. Im bitches) and theyre playing like, mario kart or smash or smth and Ghost gets really [fuckin into it]

Ghost and spencer: *literally in eachothers laps playing fucking wii tennis*

Spooker: what are the- *TOAST FUCKING SLAPS A HAND ACROSS HIS MOUTH* shut up you dont wanna know what happens when its mentsonssbfdjfsd (sorry i had a stroke uwuwuwuw)

(Theyre in denial we don’t judge in this house)

They will not hesitate to play dirty either, they will straight up push each other over and vaguely flirt

Ghost is losing and straight up fucking goes “ur hot” and spencer actually dies and boom ghost is the winner. sparkle emoji Magic sparkle emoji

“I am Not a HomoSexual:™:” “Yeah, sure you aren’t” “Screw off”

Pet-names-ish: Asshole, Gaymer-Boy, casual insults, Mr. Spirit Bitch, Mistake, Loves Ghosts More Than His Boyfriend What A Fucking Loser aka Gay-ass

Pros:

They both open up a lot most likely. Gain someone to trust since they’ve sort of been through the same things (though on much different scales)

I can see soft hours of hanging in each other’s bedrooms

Spencer is a tsundere you cant tell me otherwise youre just a coward if you disagree

So is Ghost so this can only go well

Every time Ghost has to solve a case at the Acachallas Spence is just peaking out from his basement like “the fuck is this?? Hot Man??????”

Enemies to lovers 500k (Gets Hot and Steamy :flushed: NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!11!!!!! 18+!!!!!!! GAY LOVE StORY!!!!!!) Lemonz!!! Made from teh Sexiest of Wattpaders UWUWUWU YAOI Boys Love don’t like don’t read!! (this is so fucking stupid jkfnd) I hate this with a passion Q^Q. All my years of being a basic watpad fanboy have helped me to the moment i bring maddie to tears

The steam is just like,,,,, holding hands and being angy all the fuckin time the steam is literal because their anger translates into actual steam

Cons:

Their angst has nowhere to go and it just sits between them like two raccoons at a dumpster-style mexican standoff

They really start off hating each other huh. Like, I know this can still lead to healthy relationships but neither of them are very good at healthy relationships with people he hasn’t known for his Whole Life so that’s an Oh No.

They totally feed off of each other’s stupidity (but this could be seen as a pro too so take that as you will) as well as anger - im talking one-upping each other kinda shit

Its ridiculous honestly how intense it gets, like they straight up need intervention sometimes because they dont realize they can just STOP

Conclusions:

I think this would be a relationship that would that a lot of time and hard work to make work, but i think in the end it would be really super cute!! Like it would make no fuckin sense to anyone else but somehow they’d understand each other and help each other through their similar issues. Also theyre both big nerds in different ways and i think they’d have just ranting sessions back and forth over and over and it would be soft!!!!! So yeah, i think it would work, at least, i want it to :D

So. Maybe?? I feel like it could, but they’d need to work pretty hard to make it healthy and not constant fighting. Could be stupid amounts of cute and wholesome but also could be stupid amounts of oh no and pain, depending on how the two act. If they learned how to get along with each other and work past their differences it could be super cute and soft. Just a very, er, bumpy beginning. And middle. And end. (this makes me very nervous,,,,why did you mention an end) (wouldnt you like to know weather boy) (TvT) UFDUNS bumpy but soft . Agreeing with the loser gay, want this to work it’d be interesting :3

[thetomorrowshow]

Mutually Beneficial Ch. xvi

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Recommended listening: Faouzia - Bad Dreams

Tw: Brief mention of blood, detailed panic attack

-

“Remus! Remus?”

On a normal day, Deceit rather enjoyed the Imagination. It was calming, certain parts of it susceptible to his sculpting. In the past, he'd spent hours at a time, cultivating his pet project—a flower garden. Drooping daffodils, wilting irises, withered tulips. He'd tried everything—more shade, less shade, fertilizer, regulated water. Nothing he did kept the flowers alive, but he never abandoned it.

Now, however, he walked briskly past it. He wasn't here for a relaxing session of digging up the weeds that seemed to pop out of nowhere. He was on a mission.

“Remus!” he called. Nothing. Birds twittered, cicadas buzzed, the quiet rumble of a dragon sounded nearby—an almost sure sign that Roman was somewhere near. Deceit chose not to track Roman down to ask him about the whereabouts of his brother.

The choice was rejected by some deity, though, as a figure in white burst from the forest Deceit was about to venture into. Roman appeared to be running for his life, but stopped short when he saw Deceit. His still-bruised face paled a shade,, and he looked like he was about to turn around, when he seized with pain and fell to his knees.

Deceit really didn't want to help—was loathe to even approach—but continued forward on the dirt path until he stood by the prince's side, and looked down at him.

One hand was on the ground, the other clutched to his side as little gasps hissed through clenched teeth. His hair was plastered to his forehead, drops of sweat rolling down his cheeks. Deceit wasn't sure how to help. He was certain that anything he could offer, Roman wouldn't want. Eventually, he settled for something neutral.

“Have you seen Remus?”

Roman fell further, flat out on the ground, then rolled onto his back. He seemed to have not heard, not even acknowledging the question, instead undoing the clasp at the top of his uniform, then yanking it over his head. Crisp white bandages were wrapped around his torso, bright red pinpricks blooming in places on his chest.

“Mother Gothel,” Roman gasped. “Logan will kill me.”

Deceit sighed. Already knowing the response, he asked, “Can I be of any help?”

“No—no, no,” Roman said, a little too quickly. “I just—I'm fine.”

That was a lie, Deceit noted wryly. Roman looked like he was about to pass out. The gaunt shadows under his eyes told tales of sleepless nights, stark against his pasty face. His eyes were bone-weary and fearful, peeking out from under heavy eyelids. He seemed barely able to stand, let alone get himself home.

Despite the answer in the negative, Deceit crouched down, unsure as to what to do, but hoping a hand on Roman's shoulder would help ground him. However, the opposite appeared to be true.

Almost as soon as he touched him, Roman went from slowly gaining his breath to utterly hysterical. His breathing came faster, cries sounding like they came from a wounded animal tore from his throat. He writhed for a moment, then as Deceit removed his hand, Roman's muscles all locked and he began to shake uncontrollably.

“Roman?”

A sob wracked the prince's body. Deceit could see how tight Roman's jaw was clenched, skin stretched taut over his cheekbones. His eyes were blank, clouded over, staring into nothing. Deceit didn't know what to do. His mind raced as he tried to understand what was happening.

“Roman, can you hear me?”

“Y-yes,” came the whispered reply. “I—gosh, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die—”

“Roman?”

“M—my sword,” Roman managed, his teeth clacking against each other. Deceit spotted the hilt, the blade hidden by the sheath at Roman's hip. He knelt beside him, took his wrist to guide it to the sword. Roman choked at the touch, but Deceit moved quickly, leaving Roman's hand wrapped around the hilt.

He peeked around the corner, hearing something from the other side. Curled up against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, was Anxiety, in all his dark glory. Tears dripped from unseeing eyes, ragged gasps came from his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked timidly.

No response. Anxiety didn't even seem to hear him. Slowly, Deceit backed away, resolving to never mention it again.

Deceit blinked the memory away. He'd realized, not long after that incident, that Virgil had been suffering from a panic attack. He could now draw the parallels between that moment and this one. Roman, while displaying some different symptoms, was clearly in the same boat.

He really had no clue as to how to calm down Roman, especially since his touch appeared to have set off the attack. Roman had earlier seemed to not want Logan to be aware of his plight, the only Side who would actually know what to do in this situation. With no other option, he decided to wait it out.

Of course, he could continue looking for Remus—in fact, he should, who knew what condition Patton was in—but was loathe to leave Roman's side. He had nothing against the prince. It wouldn't do to be hated even more, so an act of kindness was in line.

Eventually, Roman sounded like he was gaining control of his breathing. Deceit looked over from where he'd been drawing in the dirt (a prim house, smoke curling from the chimney) and saw that Roman's eyes were more clear, though his knuckles were still white around the hilt of his sword.

“So,” spoke Deceit, trying to act as if nothing had happened. “How was the dragon?”

“M-manticore, actually.”

Deceit nodded sagely. “Of course. How silly of me.”

Roman struggled to sit up. The pinpricks of red on his torso expanded.

“Maybe you shouldn't do that.”

The prince froze; his eyes flashed with fear. “Don't—!”

“Don't what?” His mind filled in the blank, though. Don't hurt me. Something deep down stirred. The words were achingly familiar. Deceit fidgeted. He didn't have time to deal with Roman's feelings. He needed to get to Patton before Remus did who knows what to him.

“Roman.”

Roman flinched, then met his eyes.

“I'll leave, just say the word. But know this.” Deceit stood, dusted his gloved hands off. “This isn't about you. It is a matter between Virgil and myself.”

Roman looked away. Deceit almost left—he was practically bouncing, needing to find Remus—when Roman whispered words weighted with despair.

“Then why did you break me?”

It almost physically hurt, twisting a knife in his heart and waking an old instinct, making him want to tell Roman over and over that they would get through this together, that it would be okay. Deceit pushed the words back down his throat.

“You got in the way.”

-

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @i-can-get-extra-with-my-ships @stop-it-anxiety @kai-the-person @shitpost-sides  @bl00scl00s @charakitcat @ainsleyf @sandersstuffsblog @ginnyfox617 @enragedbees @minty4green @eggy-boyo @escalatingtoofast @hayden-going-insane @piixelations @supersoftsupersleep @crowsmadreadful @hpdmmdundtl @imnotjustanxiety @thenewlarislynn @mooniecoockie @emilybaker607

[theseunsafespaces]

Seats at the Table: Lim

At a quarter to midnight, a text notification forcibly pulls me back down to Earth.

 It’s Lim, my study group buddy, asking me for an opinion on our latest assignment. An opinion on his work. I’m exhausted beyond belief and trembling from the tension that hasn’t left me for weeks, but I’ve missed him, so I perk up and I open my messages. A rare occurrence.

I’m prepared for the mental lashing that I know I’ll give myself as I listen to his work. Sure as sunset, the moment the first chord is strummed, the voice in my head starts singing like a bird. A smug, useless, unnecessarily malicious bird. Look at you, the state of your own work... but I push it aside and flip a switch in my mind. Studio work is Lim’s forté. He probably feels the same way when he’s reading my meticulously orderly signal flow charts and production analysis papers.

It’s what we do for each other, here in our circle; we check each other’s work. we watch out for each others’ pitfalls. We tear down faulty pillars and build stronger ones together. We would never survive this major if we didn’t. I shake myself awake a little more. He needs me functioning, not off in the clouds. I listen to his track a few times and bounce out feedback to him from my angle-- a musician’s angle, to balance out his more field-tech view.

We agree that his talent’s voice is pitchy. We agree the strings need to be changed. We agree there’s a phase problem in there somewhere. We agree the miking is run-of-the-mill. We agree it’s just okay. It’s just okay. We know it’s not.

His frustration is palpable through text. It’s like I’m sitting with him in the campus parking lot, passing a water bottle filled with cheap wine between us while we talk. He texts me his disappointment and I see him stilling, running a hand through his hair as if his fingernails could lift the daze and dread from his scalp. I see a cigarette between his lips, awkward and unfamiliar. He only ever smokes when things get bad. 

In the three blurred, blinking dots on my phone screen, I see him sigh and drop his guard. Immediately, I lower mine and rush to embrace him.

We stop talking about the assignment. We were never talking about the assignment anyway. Instead, we paint a still-life of this summer in a stint of words, and lean into each other in our differing dialects of textspeak-- we’ve never sounded similar. We’ve never sounded more similar. Though we’ve never quite held each other like this, it feels practiced. Natural. He speaks my fears and I cradle his grief, and we’re just two sides of a chat box trying to figure out what best to do with an effort that is wilting in the July heat. 

should we cede the next round? he asks.

I have to laugh. I didn’t even want to be in this one. I had mapped out the summer and laid it out over a chart of my own weaknesses. There were just too many holes. I ceded, firmly: I knew I couldn’t win, and I knew it would hurt me severely to try. But the final say wasn’t mine and, at the behest of another, I walked into the ring anyway.

Lim had more faith in himself. The call was his, though I’m certain he too had had a difficult time making that decision. We are, as our field dictates, logical people. We should know our limitations and choose our battles accordingly. Yet, as our field also dictates, we must know just as well the value of intuition-- of heart. 

In this case, he tells me, he had let his pride outweigh both.

I can’t fault him for that. Even if I could, I’m not willing to spare any space in this conversation for fault and blame, so we commiserate like we’re sharing smoke and moonshine. It thins out, then; the current slowing into a shallows of shitposts and inside jokes. There’s hardly anything left to say. We’re left with an exposition of circumstance and a dim road splitting into a dozen dead ends.

so what’s your game plan, Tuani? 

I am running a fever, dizzy with dread and sore from head to toe, and the pounds are dropping off my scale like flies. Somehow I huff out a pathetic imitation of a laugh. I want to say, I’m going to the hospital, that’s my goddamn game plan, Lim. But we’ve both had enough of worry for a week-- hell, a year. 

idk man, I text back.

None of us are going to get anywhere trying to do this on our own. I know for sure I’m not. I close my eyes and thank my lucky stars that Lim is a shameless goof who, for whatever reason, found it perfectly acceptable to sit on my feet (a stranger, back then!) during our majors orientation party a year ago. He’s always had an interesting approach to things, and as far as starting friendships go, that’s not necessarily the worst way to go about it. 

My bones still ache but I’m warmer now. I pick up my phone.

i guess we just have to stick together.

A pause. The three dots blink for a few long minutes. Then, they stop.

[early-sxnsets]

Put A Ring On It

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934752

Epilogue of “It’s A Handheld Disaster”

Word Count: 2165

Summary: After years of being together, Baz finds the perfect spot to propose at.

Notes: this fic has been a long time in the works--as in, i started it nearly two months ago, didn’t have a laptop for a month and a half, and finally was able to finish it tonight. this goes out to @the-lincyclopedia, who i promised this to a while ago (i’m sorry it took so long omg). i hope y’all like it!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really won’t tell me where we’re going?”

The cellophane wrap around the flowers squeaks as I squeeze the stems, letting them roll in my hands as Baz’s fingers keep snuggly wrapped around my bicep. I feel his index and middle finger tap a few times while the soft rumble of his voice just barely escapes the thundering noise of the underground.

“No.”

My lips press together as I huff, staring out into darkness.

Fucking drama queen, with his blindfolding and romantic gestures.

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling, even if it’s a tiny smirk. “Never have. Doesn’t change the sentiment, though.”

His hand curls tighter, pulling the fabric of the nice shirt he made me wear. The car jostles, and we roll our feet with the track’s bumps. It isn’t really jarring, but instead a bit calming. Baz’s head drops to the top of mine, settling there as his hair falls down and brushes my cheek. I move to push it off, but it falls right back into place.

“Do you not trust me?” Baz murmurs, his hand sliding down to mine as my nose wrinkles.

“Of course I do,” I protest back, taking hold of his hand and pressing out palms together. His fingers sink right into place. “After nearly half a decade, I don’t think I have much a choice, do I?”

Pause. “No, not really.”

“Thought so.” We lean against one another, the car of the train rocking a bit and starting to squeal into the next station.

“Mind the gap between the train and the platform,” it stirs, the masculine voice speaking over head before changing to, “This is, Bakers Street.”

Baz gives my arm a good tug, leading us out of the Tube as I blink curiously. Yes, sure, there’s a few things around here that are worth the trip. Like that one shop with the fantastic lemon poppy muffin, or the zoo, and of course the Gastrell museum, but it’s all usually a bit of a splurge given our usual budget (especially since his father stopped sending cheques once we graduated).

“Can I take off the blindfold yet?” I ask, feeling him pull me out towards the stairs.

“Not yet,” he calls, steps ahead and voice getting lost amongst the crowd. In hopes of keeping him close, I tighten my grip and carefully follow him step by step.

The crowd keeps around us, and finally breaks as we rise up into the outside, city air.

It’s a change in volume now. Moving cars, passing busses, and the remarkable scent of the nearby street cart vendors.

Baz drifts close enough that I can take hold of his bicep, feeling the slight chill of his skin underneath as I walk closely to his side. “How far?”

He hums beside me, other hand closing around our joint ones as the wrap for the flowers audibly catch on his face. “Not even five minutes--will you hold up until then? Please?”

I sigh, dramatically, and tighten the hand around his arm. “Five minutes?” I enthuse dramatically. “Better be for the bloody Queen.”

“I thought I was the queen of this town?”

“Drama queen, maybe.”

I feel a pinch at my arm, and I can’t help but smile, tugging him closer as we slow our strides. His hand circles around mine, rubbing my wrist and soothing my nerves as we step in time together. It feels like we’ve always been like this--in synch. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but we’re always in this rhythm.

I wonder, sometimes, if that’s what made me fall in love with him. The beat. A nonstop back and forth. A pace to our connection.

Something irreplaceable. Something I don’t know if anyone could ever replicate.

We weave about and walk in time until we get to a stop. He tugs my arm back, looping his free hand around my elbow as I halt and turn at his will. Suddenly, he lets go before steady hands work around my skull, unwrapping and untying the careful knot in my blindfold.

Once it falls, I see it in fine, carved lettering.

“The Huxley Gastrell Museum”

I turn slowly back, barely seeing the excitement contained on Baz’s face as he tries to gesture up cooly. “Well?”

“Holy shit,” I laugh. I don’t have much else to say, or do, besides hug him tight, nearly making the flowers fly everywhere as I exclaim “Holy shit!” once more.

He smirks proudly, arms circling around me and tugging our bodies together. Keeping mindful, I carefully tuck my face into his neck and press a soft, slow kiss to his skin. It’s a bit cold to the touch, but easy to indulge in.

He hums, clearly grinning as he speaks. "Happy anniversary, my love."

Pulling back, my face starts to hurt from all the smiling. "Fuck you, and your surprises," I breathe cheekily, nose brushing his as I go in for the kiss.

We laugh together before he hauls me into line, letting me practically curl around his bicep and kiss his shoulder as often as I like. Screw anti-PDA bullshit, he's getting all my affections.

“How long have you been planning for this one, then?” I hum, glancing around the street as I think through it. Sure, he’s been putting in hours at the bookshop he’d took the job at last year, and we’ve been eating out a bit less, but I’d figured we’d just been saving generally.

Not that this is expensive, or anything. Just not something we tend to work towards spending money on. Still, not a terrible surprise by any means, regardless as to how deep we are (or really, aren’t) in the fandom, nowadays.

It isn’t like we abandoned our love of it at all--quite the opposite, really. Our bedroom practically has a shrine, after all. Stacked special editions, antique copies of the book. Copper busts, the collector’s item dolls. Hell, Baz even got the same type of violin that Gastrell plays as a holiday gift two years ago that just sits there and collects dust as a display centrepiece. It feels like, sometimes, we appreciate it more than we did when we were younger.

But our worlds changed.

We found new ways to cope. New ways to love.

Healthier things to enjoy.

Our blogs are still up, but just shifted a bit. Mine ran out of focus and is mostly my shitposts now, while he’s moved towards more life-updates sort of shit. He’s got enough followers accumulated over time that they shockingly care about what we do now, but the overarching urge to post about Gastrell has died down.

Now it’s just people asking about our lives (and Penny’s too, by relation). It’s a bit amazing that people actually care about shit like our relationship, but it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when people ask if we’re planning on getting married. Which, we agreed that we’d wait until we were done schooling to figure out that far into the future.

Although, now that we’re done, it feels like neither of us have mentioned it. And, while it doesn’t feel awkward, it still comes back into my mind every now and again as a question. I tend to ignore it. Figured we’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

But now? Now we’re in a happy place, regardless. Separated from the past now, and moving towards a new life.

Which excludes most of our old online life--guess isn’t a shock, anyway. Given the fandom’s practically dead along with it. Still, we read reread the stories, rewatch the better episodes, and always use it as our go-to for a costume party.

But it feels like history, now.

It’s still part of our history--Huxley and Sammy. Part of their story has become part of ours.

“Planned the museum idea a month or two ago,” he says, a bit self-righteously (still a prick, after all this time). “Good idea, though, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so.” I shrug up to him as we step ahead. “Lucky guess, but good idea.”

“I never guess on these sorts of things.”

“Liar.”

Together, we wrinkle our noses up to one another, then follow the line as it scoots closer, people piling into the bottom of the shop.

We’ve been down here before--we came here the first week we moved into London. Which, strangely, feels like centuries ago now.

We didn’t have much money to do anything, but we just wanted to peer inside, given this space is free. Fiona bought us some housewarming mugs here that day.

I smile when I see the same ones, looking over them as we brush past and head towards the ticket booth for the proper parts of the building.

Baz pays with cash as I lean against his arms, trying to get a good look up and sniffing my flowers happily. It looks like what I’d imagined from the book--especially with the way Baz peppers in emphasis on details.

He reads a story aloud whenever I can’t sleep. We’ve gotten through all the stories twice now.

I tug on his sleeve again as he’s thanking the ticketer, practically buzzing as he laughs at me and finally follows along as I dash up.

“Why don’t we start at the top?” Baz says gently as I practically skip my way upwards. “Work our way down?”

I shrug, nodding silently as we brush past other people stopping off immediately at the second floor. I tug him along, taking some steps two at a time to get up and finally start to look about the space. And, while it isn’t quite boring, the third floor fascinates us both a bit more, despite the wax sculptures feeling a bit creepy. I’ve never quite been one for lifelike shit that isn’t living, after all.

Still, it’s interesting. The staple items--the ones to gawk at. The ones I tug his arm over, watching him grin as I excitedly sneak in references.

He stays a bit silent most of the time, his hand in his jacket (which I probably should make fun of him for--it feels a bit too warm for thicker clothes). Sometimes I catch him staring at me instead, which I tease him a bit for, but he nudges my arm and rolls his eyes as his response.

“There’s only one Gastrell Museum,” I remind him at one point.

He shrugged, which made me feel a bit off, but I shrug away the thought. Maybe something to talk about later.

I do catch him after we make it down to the second floor, though. Give him a good peck on the cheek as we huddle into a corner.

He raises a brow as I stare up, one hand settling onto his chest.

“Just… wanted to say thank you for a fantastic present,” I whisper. “I don’t know if my anniversary breakfast quite lives up to this one.”

His face breaks into a private grin, eyes rolling as he kisses my cheek back. “I thought the pancakes were an excellent effort,” he whispers, making my cheeks flush.

Effort is the right word for them.

“Thanks,” I scoff softly before we step into the main room, glancing briefly before deciding to head through the back rooms first before taking it all in.

It’s fun to gaze around the bedrooms, sure, but I’m practically bouncing on the balls of when we make it back to the main one.

Baz lets go of me as I take a step closer to their armchairs set up, borderline vibrating as I peer around the space in front of me. “Hey Baz,” I start, going to spin around as I speak. “Can we take a picture of--”

I nearly drop my fucking flowers, staring wide-eyed as he exhales, kneeling down and staring up at me with raised eyebrows.

“Holy--”

His smile and hand movement cuts me off as he opens a box, grinning like a madman. I swear, I’ve never seen him this genuinely joyful. Half makes me wonder if he’s just having a laugh, but fucking hell, the ring that he’s got int here looks expensive and old. “Simon,” he says gently. “I could give you a year’s-long speech about why I love you, but it’s never going to properly summarize how I feel. You have been, and still are, the most important thing in my life, and I’d be honored if you--”

“Stop rambling,” I laugh, bending down to grab his face. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

He blinks, a little taken aback by my response, but ends up just pushing himself up and snogging me, right in the middle of the room.

Screw the fannish shit I wanted to do--kissing Baz in the middle of the Gastrell museum is probably both the best possible and most appropriate thing for us to do here.

After all, it is part of our history.

[tulipanisk]

The MBTI types as people I know (from an infj perspective)

This is based on the few people I've met in real life with these personality types. I haven't met all types so maybe yours isn't here.

INFP: So quiet. Works as a cashier with me in a grocery store. Says every "hi", "do you need a bag" etc like she has practiced in front of the mirror. Is super afraid to be left out of conversations. Asks "what are you laughing about", "what are you talking about", "what happened" all the time. Seems serious, but it's probably because she takes her role as a cashier pretty seriously, because it has to be perfect. Would hate herself if a customer was mean to her, but wouldn't tell anyone. Often says "I don't know" and is never mean. Instantly smiles when I smile. Likes to build on my weird thoughts, but it's hard to read her actual opinion on things.

ESTP: Leader of a youth organization for atheists. Loves ranting about politics. Has a strong opinion on every matter, but has no opinion when it comes to taking peoples feelings into conversation, other than what he knows is morally correct and practical. Accidentally uses master suppression techniques to win arguments. Regrets being to harsh when he accidentally hurt someone, and awkwardly tries to apologize. Has a partner who he listens to before anyone else. Loves emo punk, computer games and discussing existential, social and political issues. Reacted to his personality type by saying "I guess I'm ESTP" *sighs* as if any answer would have been a disapointment. Oftentimes asks the questions we needed to hear, like "so if this is the case, then what are we even discussing here, this is a meaningless conversation, isn't it?". Very practical. Very nice. Wishes everyone well.

ISFP: Friend of enfp. Is obsessed with this one thing, MMA. She sees everyone as competition and wants to prove them wrong. Wants to go against the big and though guys and be respected equally. Pushes people away, then says she didn't initially like them, but instantly takes them into their life again when they take initiative at all. Is a real soft girl, but pretends to be emotionless. Rants about how stupid this one guy she met at the store was. Is very spontaneous. Goes on dates with the most handsome people, because she actually takes initiative and comes off as confident. But analyses people because "what if they don't actually like her". Has a beautiful smile and everyone listens to what she says. Good story teller and manages to get people on board with her opinions quite easily. Comes off as super extroverted, but is really in her own head, likes being alone and secretly seeks intimacy

ESTJ: Person 1, a guy. He talks before thinking. Oftentimes seen as a big jerk and doesn't mind saying things like it is. Is very traditional when it comes to certain things. Doesn't know how to cope with my feelings, and might say "seems like you have a bunch of problems man", instead of saying something that helps. Potentially saying "at least you have this and that" or "people are dying". Listens to ABBA, loves cars and cats. Has never been in a relationship because he is afraid people judge him like he judges people. Will scream at you if he finds you anoying, a hypocrite or stupid. Doesn't care. Wants to care about politics, but hates all the parties. Loves my hugs but won't ever take the initiative for them. Very practical, knows how to fix everything. Could build Ikea furniture without looking at the manual. Asks me for advice he doesn't take. Jumps to conclusions. Beliefs me as if I'm God, and will hand me his phone to answer messages more emphatically if he really likes someone, so that he doesn't come off mean. Likes to annoy me because I react to it, then smiles after and make me smile to. Beautiful smile. Never talks about emotions, but has a lot when I ask him about it. Has no time for bullshit. We actually fit together, despite the stereotype that infj and estj dont have anything in common. I see it as we can learn from each other. Person 2: Has been through a lot of family issues and sick people. Listens to rap and ironically terrible music. Once went up to her boyfriend at work and yelled at him in front of all the customers because life is more exciting that way. Very fashionable, yet comfortable. Is her own mom figure. Does her chores. Will tell you to snap out of it if you're too emotional, which I need sometimes. Mom friend. Sits with the older people.

ENFP: Person 1, my roommate and boyfriend for four years. Has so much positive energy. Laughs away his insecurities. *Smirks, looks to the side, huge hand gestures and body movements without context*. Over explains everything. Everyone considers him a close friend, yet he doesn't concider anyone a close friend because "they don't know the real him, only the fasade". Insists on keeping it that way, because he knows people like that version of him. Wants to be liked by everyone, and thinks "challenge accepted" when someone doesn't instantly like him. Has really bad or dark humor. Listens to super creepy and intense music to feel something. Talks a lot, thinks a lot, knows a lot about things nobody should know about, remembers practical facts, but doesn't remember to lock the door. Oftentimes has to edit what he says as it comes out weird and people take it literally. Gets easily distracted, especially if there's animals nearby. Can't multitask. Loves children. Person 2: Never sleeps, forgets to eat but loves food, has plans every day. Has 689 friends who she actually hangs out with. Laughs constantly. Is not afraid to meet new people and instantly befriends them. Loves music, especially classical and orchestra. Plays the French horn. Very very patient. Colors her hair, cuts it short, cuts it off, grows it out, burns it. Doesn't want to hurt anyone. When she gets mad she gets real mad. Person 3: Makes music. Talks about it's so passionately. Cried when his favorite band died and everyone listened. Didn't talk to girls before he started high school. Very good at imitations. Has a lot of projects and dreams that he actually tries achieving. Talks so much, but only has introverted friends. (I know so many enfps, I'm not gonna write about them all).

ISFJ: My actual mom. Does everyone's chores. When she gets help with the chores, she will do them again "like she likes them done". Everything around her magically gets clean. Will clean your apartment if she visits. Is super patient and let people be mean to her without saying anything. Is loved by everyone, but doesn't believe it. Very good mom, she thinks you should follow your heart, not your brain. Stresses a lot, but laughs and is super happy when we're together. Everyone comes to her with their problems, my mom doesn't respond, but they still feel better after she opens her mouth. Hates making food, but is great at it. Finds everything funny, but is rarely the funny one. Has a lot of controlling people in her life and doesn't want me to experience that. Very skeptical, but still open.

INTJ: Is one year ahead of her age group in her education. Takes on the leading role in every single thing she can, complains about having much to do, but doesn't quit, and still wants more responsibility. Has perfect grades and actually reads the emails she gets. Would probably read terms and conditions to. Is very negative, and doesn't see her reached goals as anything's special, but most people look up to her for those things. Falling in love is a lot of work in her opinion, so she stresses about anyone potentially liking her. Very calm. Likes being alone. Jokes sadly about existence. Has goals. Very perfectionistic and realistic. Wants what's best for people. Very likable. Always on her phone and has streaks with everyone. Everyone falls in love with her and she doesn't understand why.

ENTP: "FIGHT ME". Is the loudest. Has an opinion about everything. Will answer your sayings with "Or DoEs It", "Or WiLl YoU", "BuT wHaT iF i PrOvEd YoU wRoNg newbie girl. Is politically active and and activist. Shitposts on social media. Both accidentally and consciously hits on everyone. Is never single. Has a lot of anxiety and deals with it by socializing. Meets new people every day. Cares about their physical presence and clothing. Isn't afraid of the dark and will probably go out in the middle of the night thinking "if anyone tries to kill me now I would fight them, or, I would die happily tbh". Knows everyone you know. Spills their feelings. Constantly points fingers. Likes new wave. Very physical. Cares about people. Will point out your contradictions.

INTP: Person 1: Has the sexiest voice. Good at imitations. Knows everything about politics both nationally and internationally. Plays video games all day long and is addicted to energy drinks. Has a really bad physical attitude. Laughs of his own jokes. Is really insecure, and self aware. Often regrets saying the mean things he thought. Acts very cold and seems to not like affection, but will hug you and let you sleep in his bed if he loves you. Beautiful smile. Rarely takes initiative, but if he likes you he will do it when he first craves social interactions. Cuts people out of his life like he's a waking pair of scissors. Has blocked me from social media 10 times I think because I mess with his feelings and because as an infj he doesn't understand my idealism. He would be okay with doing the right thing no matter how many people would get hurt by it. We have the exact same humor. Puns puns puns. Very skeptical and has allready decided what he thinks about every single matter. Is very closed minded, and can scare people off by coming off like that. Listens to synth music. Loves Depeche Mode. Could stay indoors all year long. Hates coping with his emotions. Will say "why" if you tell him you like him in a romantic way, and will get uncomfortable about having to deal with it. Wants to get married, but doesn't know how to start. In my opinion, the most attractive type in addition to enfp. There's just something really attractive about this personality, but also dangerous. The only personality I've met who can make me overthink like crazy. Person 2: She knows everything about pop culture. Loves cats. Listens to David Bowie and Cher. Only opens up to me, and that's after I've asked directly about it. Has a lot of emotions, but never shows them. Will make a face if she disagrees, but won't say anything. Loves watching dry humor programs. Loves candy. Has a whole line of generation in sims 4. Loves her family and would live at home by choice forever. Cares about social issues and wants justice. Likes extroverts because she can sit back and relax. Her interactions with other intps are unbearable as it gets so quiet you can hear crickets. Is very likable. Will laugh at all your jokes, of her own, and of her face with an ugly Snapchat filter on them. Hates group chats. Procrastinates every thing.

ENTJ: The only thing I know about her do far is that she does cosplay, makes her own costumes, says things like she couldn't care less what you thought about it, and has a lot of ambitions.