#not to sound like a hipster whining about how they liked the thing first but you can tell when someone started watching recently

[nb2000]

"They can't cut the flag parade from the Grand Final, it's traditional!" Flag parade only started in 2013.

"They can't take away the slogans, it's traditonal!!" Slogans only started in 2002.

"The results are supposed to be chosen by the public!!!" Public voting was introduced in 1998 and the split Jury/Public system introduced in 2009.

"They should just cut down on the result announcements if they want to save time so badly!!!!" So, the one thing that can go is the one thing that has always been a part of the Eurovision Song CONTEST?

[paintdface]

a piece of you, all of me: one

summary: you’re an exotic dancer that is frank castle’s one and only reoccurring booty call. to him, it’s all about the sex, but you can’t help but catch feelings. 

reader x frank castle

tw: smut

18+ ONLY!

THIS STORY IS 18+!!!!

you never knew when he’d come. sometimes he would leave your favorite flower at your apartment door to let you know he was in town, sometimes he would visit you at the strip club and buy a dance, or sometimes he would show up at your door unannounced. one thing you always knew is why he was there to see you. 

frank castle came out of hiding when he wanted to fuck.

you two didn’t make love, you fucked. you fucked each other until you forgot all your problems. just for a fleeting moment, you made him forget about his scars and he made you forget about your pain. it was rough, raw and real. he’s the best you’ve ever had— and you’re too afraid to ask if you’re his. 

it made sense. after everything he's been through, frank needed something with no strings attached. he needed something to fuck until he forgot; even though you knew he could never forget. you knew his story and it wasn’t pretty. but, you’d gladly let him try to forget with you. 

you liked his rough edges and soft center. 

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. the punisher is like a shadow. you don’t always see him, but you know he’s there. when you’re in trouble, he somehow always finds his way to you. when he needs some relief, he’s at your side and then in your bed. but, it’s been a long time since you needed help and he needed relief. 

you’ve almost considered stirring up some trouble to summon him. 

you missed him. you hated that you did but you missed waking up with the smell of him lingering on your sheets. you refused to wash your sheets until his scent disappeared. most nights you’d close your eyes and go back to your nights together. his body against yours is ingrained into your eyelids. no matter how much you wished, your hand was never enough. no man or woman you ever brought home was ever enough to satisfy your needs.

frank’s spoiled you.

fumbling with your keys, the sound of your boot heels click down the hall as you head back to your apartment after a late night shift at the club. your friends always warned you to be more vigilante, but you’ve always lived in your own world. always inside your own head. 

“evening, neighbor.” a gruff voice pipes up. 

“jesus christ!” you shout, stopping in your tracks. the key ring in your grasp drops with a loud clatter. it was like your soul jumped out of your skin. once the shock died down, you realized who the owner of the deep voice belonged to. it could only be one person and it wasn’t your neighbor. “fuck, frank. you scared me!”

frank chuckled. “sorry, kid. didn’t mean to scare you.” his hands were stuffed into jacket pockets with the hood fit snugly around his head to shield his face, but you knew it was him. “mind if i come in for a night cap?” 

sighing, your shoulders rise and fall. “it’s— it’s fine. i should know better by now.” you a nod a ‘yes’ before moving to unlock the door to your studio apartment. “welcome back.” 

leaving the door open, you let frank in as you shed yourself of your coat and bag. it all piles up in the entrance before moving to the fridge. “it’s been awhile...” you grab two beers and crack them open. “didn’t know if i’d ever see you again.” your smirk deceives you as you hold out the second bottle.

“i wasn’t sure if you would either.” he nods at the beer, a silent thank you, before taking a pull from the bottle. his free hand pushes the hood off his head to reveal a head full of wavy raven tresses. it’s longer than you’ve ever seen before. his perfectly chiseled jaw is now covered by a thick beard. 

he looks good. 

“that hermit thing is really doing you justice,” you tease. a shit eating grin is hiding behind the bottle. “or is that some williamsburg hipster look? maybe a tiktok e-boy? either way— hot.”

thick brows furrow at you. frank scoffs. “you know, i don’t know what you’re saying half the time.” he leans against the counter, looking at you from the side. you can feel his eyes burn into you and you return the favor by looking back.

“that’s probably for the best, old man.” you continue to drink from your bottle. you want it to all go to your head to give you courage for later. you always got a little nervous when it’s been awhile.

“yeah, but…” he stops to look at you, shrugging. “you like that i’m old.”

your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek. “perhaps.” you push off the counter, sauntering over to the other. “another word i’d use is experienced.”

you watch as his plump lips curve around the bottleneck one more time to take a drink. god, he knew what he was doing. your jaw slacks for a moment, eyes drifting down to watch his mouth. you dreamed about what his mouth could do— what it could do to you. your mouth closes and you swallow the lump in your throat.

cue another drink for courage.

swiftly, you move to stand in front of him. “i like that you’re older,” you pause to set your bottle on the counter behind frank. “— that you’re more experienced... ” reaching forward, you grab at his jacket zipper, slowly pulling it down to reveal a tight white tank. you push the jacket off his strong shoulders until it falls to the floor. a hand snakes in between your bodies to rest on the growing imprint showing through his pants. he must have been thinking about this as much as you have. “— and that you’re so much bigger than me.” your hand curves over his thick length underneath the confines of the dark denim to stroke him. 

he almost looks uninterested as he continues to sip on his beer. his lower back leans against the counter. nodding to the floor, he commands you, “get on your knees.”

you don’t hesitate. 

“yes, sir.” you could feel yourself slip into your usual submissive role. frank and you knew your places in this relationship. and right now, your place was on the floor. 

sinking to your knees, your eyes never leave his as you reach out for his belt buckle. you thought about all the things he could do with the leather. he could tie you up, or use it as a weapon to choke out his enemies. it made you wet just thinking about it. you flick open the button and tug down the jeans before staring at the bulge outlined in the black briefs. your gaze flickers between his cock and his heavy hooded gaze casted down on you. it only takes you a second to decide to wrap your mouth around the fabric.

you lick at the black briefs to soak the cotton, mouthing over his length, torn between wanting more and taking your time. his soft grunts encourage you to push further. fingers dip into the waistband of his underwear to pull down letting his smooth cock spring free. 

this never got old, you thought. 

“go on. put your mouth around it,” he coaches. “i know you know how.”

he sounded so cocky. it’s so hot. your hand wraps around the head before reaching forward to wrap your mouth around the head to softly suck. 

“perfect, baby. just like that.” he nods. “keep going.”

you do as you're told. you never disobey frank. you swear you’d do anything for the man in front of you. you move further up his length, tongue flickering on the underside before his cock as you take more of him into your mouth. when you look up, he’s finishing his beer, looking as nonchalant as ever. you love it. you take the entirety of his thick length into your velvety mouth before it reaches the back of your throat making you gag. tears spring to your eyes at the feeling.

frank groans. “good girl,” he pulls back to let his cock come out with a clean pop. your spit dripped off his cock. “such a good girl for me.” his large grasp pumps at his cock, using the saliva as lubricant. frank drops his cock on your face to land on your perfect pout, he laughs at the gesture. “get up,” he bites back a smile. “now.” the way he orders you around betrayed his  menacing smile. 

rising to your feet, it’s the first time you notice how wet you are. undressing yourself, you discard yourself of your shoes then your clothes then your underwear. you move slowly. every move is intentional, all for frank’s enjoyment. as a dancer, you knew how to put on a show. it’s not too long until you’re naked in front of him. a hand reaches between your legs, nimble fingers playing with the bud of nerves nestled between your thighs. your fingers glide over your slickness. you watch as he continues to stroke himself while he watches you.

stepping closer, your breath catches in your throat as he closes the space between you two. his free hand reaches out to grab you by the back of your head, curling around your hair to yank you closer. his cock brushes against your bare stomach as his lips crash on to yours. his tongue slips into your mouth causing you to moan. the kiss is messy and quick before he’s pulling away again to give you your next order.

“turn around,” he nods towards the small breakfast table nearby. “bend over.”

you two have been together enough times to know what he wants. you could read him and he could read you. you both knew what the other liked best. you both knew how to make each other cum. you nod. turning around, your torso bends over the tabletop, legs parting as you move. a hand slips behind you to rub circles around your wet folds, making sure to spread yourself out, laying everything out on the table.

literally. 

you can’t see him, but you wish you could. you can hear him groan behind you, muttering out obscenities as he continues to touch himself. his moans only make you wetter. 

“please. i’m ready,” you pant. “it’s been so long. i need this.”

“you need what?” you hear footsteps behind you and suddenly you feel something pushing on to your round flesh— it was the head of his cock.

you whine. “you, frank. i need you. please!” desperately, the fingers between your legs move faster. your hands weren’t enough… they never were. “please fuck me. please.”

“soon.”

you whimper in return. fFrank.”

chuckling, he shakes his head at you before getting on his knees behind you. large hands reach forward to spread your cheeks apart before leaning forward to lick at your sopping hole. he spits there before sucking on your clit. 

whining, you move on to your tiptoes, legs threatening to close him off. yet, he’s too strong. he spreads you open for his viewing pleasure as he continues to slick and suck there. his moans vibrate against your core. “so fuckin’ good,” frank growls.

“f-frank.. please. please i need it.”

you’re given no warning. you only feel calloused hands gripping on to your hips to pull you forward and the familiar feeling of his thick length pushing into you. he slips in so easily and you soak him. the moment he’s inside you, he lets out a loud moan. it sounds like he needed this as much as you did. 

“oh fuck, baby.” he groans. his hands massage at your hips. he takes a few moments before he begins to move. “oh, baby. baby— you feel so good.”

your hands grip at the edges of the table as he slowly slides in and out of you. “i missed you so much,” you sigh. “i missed you, frank.” you wish he’d say it back. you want to know how much he thought about you. you want to know that he cares about you like you care about him. 

“yeah? you missed this dick?” his voice is low and gruff. it’s not the response you want, but you moan anyway. after all, it is still hot a fuck. he snaps his hips forward causing you to yelp. “miss how i fuck you?”

“missed your cock.” you can barely get the words out.

frank reaches down to grab a fistful of hair, yanking you up to use your hair as leverage as he mercilessly fucks you. his cock brushes against your walls to push you to the edge. “touch yourself while i fuck you,” he grunts. “touch that wet pussy.”

you do as your told. a shaky hand reaches down to touch the bundle of nerves that was previously neglected. your lips part to say his name over and over again. 

“i’m gonna cum,” he warns. the hand on your hip moves to spank your ass then tightly grips the supple flesh. “i want you to cum with me. cum with me, baby.”

“almost— almost there.” you whine. “cum on me, please.” you’re desperate. your back arches in response to his hands. 

frank’s dark eyes stare down at your body, loving to watch how it moves every time his hips slam into you. it doesn’t take him long before he’s pulling out, coming completely undone all over your ass and up your exposed spine. 

it’s permission to follow suit. 

your weak body slumps against the table and you feel him fall forward. his strong body lays against yours and the grip in your hair loosens. it’s replaced by soft nuzzles and a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“thanks, sweetheart.” the loving nickname of ‘kid’ is always replaced with ‘sweetheart’ during the afterglow. you wished you could soak up this feeling forever— bottle it up and save it for later. 

his kisses move from your hair to your cheek and you hum, back arching up into him. 

for a moment this feels normal. you feel like a normal girl with a normal boy, but it’s not long until that feeling is long gone. 

and you’re left with the knowledge that you’re in love with a man you can never have.

A/N: aahhhhh i don’t usually write smut so!! i hope this is okay! let me know if you like it or don’t oesifdjcx anyways!! also, pinterest board for this story is here.

xoxo

bird :)

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | Part 1 | William Nylander

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 1, let me know what you think about the idea of this series!

--

“I have a plan to fix this,” your best friend says, and there’s absolutely nothing worse than when Zach says that.

To be fair, when you called him in complete, blind panic, you weren’t really thinking straight. If you were, you would’ve started your tirade with a I don’t need you to fix this, but…

As it is, you forgot to say that, and so Zach is trying to fix it. That’s how your best friend works.

“I have a plan, too,” you say. You’re sitting on the floor in the kitchen, legs pulled up to your chest, and your phone is on speaker on the floor next to you. It’s quite a dramatic scene, with it being dark outside, the Toronto city lights twinkling below you; if you weren’t having a mental breakdown, you’d laugh about the high romantic comedy feeling this has.

“I’m going to throw myself off the roof and fake death.”

“If you throw yourself off the roof, it won’t be faking anymore.” Zach sounds undeterred by your possible impending death, which. Rude. Maybe you need a new best friend.

Outside, you can see the rain falling. Spring has arrived, but spring is really hit and miss in Toronto, and this week the weather has been dreadful. It kinda feels serendipitous, now.

“Zach,” you whine into the phone, “I can’t go to my ex’s wedding alone. You have to come with me.”

Zach sighs, but doesn’t say anything. To be fair, he’s already explained to you why he can’t do that – he has plans, and a wife, so - but…

“It’s so unfair.” You let your head fall back against the kitchen cabinet with a thump, and wonder idly whether you still have a bottle of wine stashed in one of those cabinets. If there was ever a time to pull it out, it’s probably now.

“I told you, I have a plan. We can fix this.” Zach sounds smug, which doesn’t do anything to help your worry.

He always means well, and he’s a smart guy, yet somehow his plans never work out too well for you.

“The plan that I have,” your best friend says slowly, cutting himself off to interject: “And don’t say no right away!”

That probably means you’re gonna say no right away.

“My plan is that you’re gonna take Willy.”

You laugh.

“Fuck no.”

--

So, it’s not like you hate William.

It’s just. You also don’t like him.

He’s always so chipper and happy, and there’s no way anyone can be that chipper and happy all the time. And he’s always confident, sometimes borderline cocky, and you never know whether he’s being nice to you or taking the piss, whether to take what he says at face value or with a grain of salt. You don’t know what to make of him, which makes you feel uncomfortable in his presence.

And then there’s the fact that he’s William Nylander.

Obviously, being friends with Zach, who loves William, there’s gonna be times when you’re around him. And whenever you are, it seems like the entire city is around him, too.

Clubs, restaurants, cinemas, even stores: you can’t go anywhere without people whispering, without a crowd forming. Sometimes people even follow you.

And you know it’s William, because it never happens when it’s just you and Zach. Even though Zach is, in your opinion anyway, just as big a deal in Toronto as Willy. So. It must be something about William as a person.

However.

The idea of having to go to this wedding alone makes you wanna vomit, or cry, or maybe both. You feel your skin crawl and your heartbeat speed up, and you haven’t had a proper panic attack in years but it feels like it’s just below the surface, when you think about having to see Noah getting married, while everyone around you is just feeling sorry for you because you’re still lonely and pathetic.

It was such a bad idea to get your entire family so involved in Noah’s life, because now they’re all gonna be at his wedding, and even your own family will look at you with quiet disappointment.

It’s too much, literally, for you to even process, and you blame that lack of mental capacity for the fact that you end up telling Zach he can arrange a meeting with William for you.

--

Toronto is still hiding underneath an everlasting raincloud, and everything about you is soaked by the time you hurry through the coffee shop door.

So far for your jacket being waterproof, then.

The coffee shop, luckily, is warm and cozy, and you wonder why Zach has never taken you there before. There’s something hipster about it, sure, with mismatched furniture and indie music playing, but it has the kinda relaxed vibe you’re always looking for.

That’s when you spot him.

He’s wearing a hoodie and a snapback, and his glasses, which somehow make him fit right in with the aesthetic of the place, as if they hired him to sit there and be pretty – shut up, you don’t like him, but you’re not blind - and drink coffee, to fit the decor.

He looks up when he sees you coming, a lazy smile appearing on his face.

“Y/N,” he says, almost amused, “this was unexpected.”

“Hey, William,” you mutter, shrugging off your wet jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair opposite him. “I’ll just go get a coffee and then I’ll explain.”

“No need.” William motions towards one of the two mugs that are on the table. “Ordered you a hazelnut latte with oat milk.” He sounds proud, and you assume Zach told him your favorite coffee order but you’re a little impressed anyway.

From anyone else, maybe you’d seen it as common courtesy, but for William, to think about that? You’ve noticed he has a habit of thinking about himself, first, so, that’s a thing for him.

“Thanks,” you say, and you must look as baffled as you feel because William rolls his eyes a little.

“It’s just a coffee. And call me Will or Willy, please. William is what my grandmother says.” His eyes twinkle when he adds: “Oh, and angry old white dudes on hockey Twitter.”

If you didn’t kinda need him, you would’ve probably kept calling him William just to annoy him a little: you’ve never really seen William – Will – annoyed, not if not jokingly. You’ve seen him happy, dejected, upset, but never annoyed.

It’s a mood he regularly instills in you, so you wonder if you could return the favor.

However.

“Okay, Will, so here’s the thing.”

You do need something from him.

“One year ago, I had a boyfriend.”

Will raises an eyebrow, takes a sip of his coffee in the most pretentious way. “Congratulations.”

“Do you want to hear the story?” you snap, forgetting for a second that you’re supposed to be nice to him. Old habits die hard.

Will holds up his hands and stills.

“So, my ex, his name is Noah. We got together when we were 16 and I thought he was the one for me. He was over at my house so much, my parents used to joke that we’d already gotten married and just hadn’t told them. He was as much part of my family as I was, and I thought we’d be together forever.”

Will takes another drink. His leg is bouncing up and down slightly; another habit of his that you really wish you could kick out of him.

“Long story short,” you decide to settle, “next month he’s getting married to the woman he cheated on me with.”

Now Will’s eyes widen, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that. You bet he’s really not expecting your next sentence.

“So I need you to go to the wedding with me.”

It’s quiet. You take the chance to take a sip of your drink; it’s delicious, maybe the best you’ve ever had, and now you wonder whether Will spends a lot of time here cause if not, you’d like to make this your regular coffee place.

“You wanna go to this douchebag’s wedding?” Will asks, sounding incredulous. And, okay, maybe you can’t blame him for sounding like that. 

“Want is a big word,” you hum. You link your fingers together, think of your mom when she spoke to you last.

“You have to come, Y/N. I promised him he’d always be a part of our family, and if you don’t go he won’t feel welcome. Surely you’re over him, by now?”

“My whole family is going and I think my mom will disown me if I don’t go. I told you, he’s as much part of the family as I am. If I didn’t go, it’d be like… Me not going to my brother’s wedding.”

“But he’s not your brother.” Will still looks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “He’s a cheating ex!”

You sigh. “They don’t know about the cheating part, actually.”

When you and Noah broke up, you hadn’t been in a good place. You felt embarrassed, but most of all, worthless. Like it had been your fault he cheated: if only you had been prettier, skinnier, smarter, funnier, better, he wouldn’t have had to. He wouldn’t have fallen for Betty – his soon to be wife – if you’d been enough.

So, ashamed as you were, and knowing how much your family loved Noah, you didn’t tell them the truth. You simply told them you’d broken up because you’d grown apart, become different people.

In a way, you still think you made the right choice. You don’t think they would’ve chosen Noah’s side if you’d told them the truth, but it would’ve hurt them to cut him out of their lives, and still to this day he comes over all the time to fix stuff at their house or make them dinner.

You’re thankful for the way he cares about your parents, even if he never cared about you.

You try to explain this all to Will, but no matter what you say, the deep edged frown in his forehead doesn’t leave.

“I still think it’s bullshit,” he declares, a little too loudly, when you’re done. “But at least I get why Zach wants me to go with you, now. As a barrier.” 

He’s puffing his chest a little and it would be cute if it wasn’t so typically William-Nylander-out-there, and now you’re wondering if he’s making fun of you or if he’s being genuine.

“You don’t need to be a barrier,” you say, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I just didn’t want to show up alone and have everyone think I’m still all kinds of messed up about this. I want people to know I’m doing great in life.”

When you see Will’s questioning gaze, you frown at him. “Don’t be sexist. I am doing great in life, even if I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t need a boyfriend for that. It’s just that my family seems to disagree with that.”

“That’s not just a female thing,” Will says, and he seems to genuinely get it. “My mom asks me about twenty times every week if I’ve found a girlfriend yet. She wants grandbabies and she wants them now.”

“Even with your hockey career?” you ask him. It seems silly to you, for Will’s family to focus on grandkids when Willy is still so young, living his dream in the NHL.

Will laughs. “She doesn’t care about that. She says she’s had enough of that with dad. She’s proud of me for my career, but she wants me to have the family life, too, and she worries it’s gonna be too late really soon.”

“You’re 24, not 55,” you huff. Will shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“Either way,” he says. “I can go with you to that guy’s wedding, and I can be your handsome, succesful, charming pretend-boyfriend.”

“And so humble,” you scoff, but there’s a weight lifting from your shoulders at his words.

“However,” Will continues, and the weight is back instantly. Damn it, you shouldn’t celebrate so soon. “My cousin, who lives in Calgary, has this baby shower, gender reveal party situation going on next week, and I don’t wanna listen to my entire family ask me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend for my babies every six minutes. So you have to come with me to that.”

You quickly do the thinking; one gender reveal party can’t last very long, you’ll just have to eat colored cakes and smile at people’s baby stories and chug some champagne, and then your wedding fears will be over.

However…

“Okay,” you say, “but my boss is getting married this weekend and I told him I had a plus one because I did, but Zach canceled because he’s a loser.”

Or, because his knee is bothering him and he’s doing some extra physical therapy to rehab it more. Whatever.

“So you’ll come with me to that, too, and we can practice for the real thing.”

“The real thing?” Will’s eyes twinkle and there’s an amused tilt to the corners of his mouth, and you realize you made it sounds as if you and him are gonna get married.

You glare at him and kick his feet under the table, and Will laughs a loud, obnoxious laugh that has always irked you but now that his full attention is on you, suddenly something like warm pride glows in your chest.

Maybe, this won’t be so bad after all.

Famous last words. 

[deansmom]

I don’t think anything about movies hurts me more than Andrew Garfield having the third Spider-Man movie and a part in the MCU ripped out from under him. He loved Peter so much, he had such big ideas and dreams for the franchise and I just 🥺 Andrew deserves to be in the MCU, god fucking damn it. Retcon everything, refilm Avengers (2012) but Peter stumbles onto the battle of New York on his way home and he helps the Avengers win. Loki tries to mind control him and Pete just laughs in his face and then breaks Loki’s nose. He doesn’t join them for shawarma, but Steve does show up to his school to explain why Peter was late for his final.

[clutches chest] PETER PARKER SWINGS ON DOWN TO DC TO HELP NATASHA AND STEVE WHEN THEY FIND OUT SHIELD IS MOSTLY HYDRA. R-RATED CAP2, BUT IT’S RATED R BECAUSE PETER CAN’T STOP CURSING. ALSO THE WINTER SOLDIER RUNNING INTO PETER PARKER WOULD BE VERY FUNNY BECAUSE IMAGINE HOW BUCKY LOOKED IN CAP3 WHEN PETE CAUGHT HIS HAND BUT ITS AG PETER AND HE CATCHES THE FIST AND IS LIKE “SORRY ABOUT THIS ASSHOLE, THATS A DOPE ASS ARM, BUT UH [snaps it off] FUCK NAZI’S” AND THAT MAKES THE MASK FALL OFF AND STEVE STILL DOES THE “😮 Bucky?” And the winter soldier does his “who the hell is Bucky?” And Pete’s like off to the side, incredulous and without the spidey suit just in his college kid street clothes, jerks his thumb at Bucky, “CAP YOU KNOW THIS FUCKING NAZI OR SOMETHING???”

PETER AND NICK FURY LMAO HE’D FOLLOW NICK AROUND MIMICKING HIM PERFECTLY EVEN THOUGH HE CANT SEE HIM AND IT WOULD INFURIATE HIM. He gets Maria to laugh four times in one briefing though by dropping wigs onto nick from the ceiling

Tiny baby pete showing up in iron man 3 to call Tony a fucking idiot and save him from himself and drive him to therapy and he shows Gwen Tony’s plan for taking the arc reactor out and in twenty minutes they’re like “lol yeah we can fix this in an afternoon, no problem grandpa.” And Tony wants to be livid but the science is sound and that damn Gwen Stacy is just so smart, and he’s really gonna trust a college student with this, isn’t he?

Tell me andrews Peter Parker wouldn’t have followed Natasha after civil war and shown up at her trailer and been like, “hey, there’s a bad guy following you, thought you should know. Ohhh, is that caviar? I’ll take that. Thanks nat! What are we watching?” And she’s just standing there as he steals her rare russian caviar right out of her hand because what the fuck, Peter. Also his commentary with Yelena would be great. They’d love each other and it would drive Natasha bonkers. “God you’re such a mom.” “Sorry Nat. It’s true.” “Ive killed people you know. Lots of people.” Peter, deadpan perfect imitation of Elle Woods, “what, like it’s hard?”

Sam HATES him, complains about the fucking millennial and his taste in music and it’s mostly jokes, but Peter starts calling him an old man and referring to him as dad in public both to confuse the general public and remind Sam that he is, in fact, old enough to have a kid in his mid 20’s when nobody bats an eye at it. A couple of nice old ladies in the subway even tell Pete he has his fathers eyes, and Sam can’t fucking breathe he’s so horrified that they think a 25 year old white boy hipster is his child, but Bucky and Steve are in tears laughing so hard

Peter tries to do the same thing to Steve and Bucky, pass them off as his dads, but to everyone’s horror neither one of them bats an eye at this and they start calling him son and sweetpea and champ in front of people and Steve pinches his cheeks at a parent’s night at his college and Bucky charms a couple baby pictures out of Aunt May and has Natasha photoshop him and Steve into them and shows them to people and Peter hates it. They have an open invite to any parent events though, but usually it’s only one of them who escorts Aunt May and plays the part of doting dad. Also, they would adore aunt May. Absolutely adore her and flirt shamelessly with her, to Peter’s abject horror, and May flirts back, “I’m old, not dead and blind, Peter.”

Oh, older angstier Peter and Bruce 🥺 Bruce comforting him after Gwen dies and Peter’s one of the only people who can talk the hulk down. The hulk even likes Peter. They spar sometimes when Pete’s in a Mood. Bruce GETS it, feeling like something you love so much stole even more from you and resenting it and resenting yourself sometimes and being angry at the world and yourself all the time and they just vibe so hard. Tony often comments that he’s jealous, because all Peter has to do is send Bruce a meme and he gets like a real honest to god full body laugh. He can make the fucking hulk laugh in the middle of a fight. Peter unironically gets Bruce a #1 dad mug for Father’s Day, and May helps him make a #1 Hulk Dad hat for the hulk for Father’s Day too. Because reasons.

Pete, Bucky, Thor, Steve and Natasha play drinking games that Peter teaches them but they play them with asgardian alcohol so they all get absolutely fucking hammered and Peter plants one on thor and Bucky and then drunkenly stumbles away grumbling about kissing grandpa ex-hydra assassins and whining that he stopped kissing Thor in the first place. None of them comment the next morning but at Christmas Peter can’t seem to go around a corner in the tower without running into Thor and some mistletoe. And then he meets Jane and wants to die because he’s a huge fan of her work but also he didn’t realize they were dating and “oh my god, I’ve been kissing the boyfriend of one of the greatest minds of our generation, I’m a terrible person” and Tony and Bruce are like “excuse me??!”

[michiieewrites]

Shigaraki - Love You For Everything I Hate You For (fic)

A/N: Well damn… Crusty man gave me some feels these days, so have this smut-filled fic, ya filthy animals!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain came down pouring like a waterfall. Heavy and accompanied by the loud thunder. Rain soaking through ones clothes, only to grip them tightly with their ghostly cold fingers. The smell of the earth and sea overpowering mingled scents of animals and humankind alike.

But the outside world could not reach you, no. Where the birds outside were clinging together in their small nests, you were engulfed by the warmth of your lover’s long limbs. Trapping you closely in his lap. Your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands bound together behind your back, your face buried in his neck. Warmth spread through your body as a result of your actions. The need to comply to his demands bigger than the need to beg for your own selfish wishes.

Tomura’s fingers speeding across the buttons on his controller. Concentration in his eyes and victory on his mind. He would stop at nothing to defeat this final boss. He had spent hours upon hours, trying to collect and level up all his rare armor items. Just so he could end this boss.

“Remember what I told you, you needy bitch,” he spoke directly in your ear, “you have to make me hard as fucking steel before I finish this guy off or else you won’t get anything stuffed inside that greedy cunt of yours.”

A pitiful whine left you. The sound reverberating against the damaged skin of his neck. Grinding your crotch deeper against him, hoping to create any type of friction for the two of you. For him, to get stimulated; for you, to find some sort of release. Both are easier said than done. ‘Cause when Tomura games, he barely acknowledges anything or anyone else. Meaning that getting him to fuck you was a near impossible task. His mind completely elsewhere.

The task he gave you nearly an hour and half ago was to get him stiff as a rod before his finishes his final battle. If you did, you would be rewarded by getting ravished beyond this world. If you failed, you would have to sit on this couch for the rest of the evening with a vibrator attached to your clit. Only problem was you are not allowed to cum. If you did cum, Father would get a new job besides shielding Tomura’s face.

“Come on, I thought you were desperate for my cock. I’m almost done with them. I know you can do better, my little whore.” His words somewhat degrading you, only fueled your resolve to complete your task.

Your hips rolling against the outline of his tip. Still only half hard, but with his size he already looked like he could split you in half. Whenever he would use your mouth, he always made sure to have you gagging and nearly choking you to death. And you loved every second of it.

The peaks of your naked nipples rub deliciously against his shirt. Your teeth seek out his earlobe, tugging hard at them while you let out a long moan. You had to step up your game as you were quickly running out of time. Digging your heels against his back you pulled him closer. With a little ‘pop’ you let go of his lobe.

“I am, I’m only hungry for your fat cock,” you groaned out.

Delirious need now runs through your veins as you think of the feeling of having him inside you. You have done worse, more humiliating things before just get him in bed. You didn’t mind, though. You know what he felt deep inside. Even if you were on your knees, sore from rubbing against the carpet, tears streaming your face, throat hoarse from screaming and gagging, and chest and face covered in cum. You were the only one worthy enough to blow his load on.

Stretching you arms a bit, your fingertips search. Slowly tracing the area beneath you. A hitch of breath from the player in front of you telling you they had found their target. Finger tips grazing the underside of his balls. Gently fondling them. A hardness forming against your thigh. And that’s when you strike.

Thumb and pointer finger pinching on his ball sack and give it a quick tug. The sound of the controller dropped behind you. A low groan coming from his lips. See, you weren’t the only one in this relationship who enjoyed a little well-intentioned pain.

Your vision changes in a flash. You eyes now directed at the ceiling above you. Thrown on the bed, the only view Tomura now had of you was a panting and bound mess. Hair spread around you, cheeks flushed, legs open wide.

“Look at you,” he says breathlessly, “haven’t even touched you and you’re already soaking the fucking bed. Thought you could probably get away with pinching my balls like that, huh?”

Leaving one pinky up, his hand comes down to smack the inside of your thigh. First the left one, then the right one.

“Although you did get what you wanted.”

You dare to sneak a little peak at him. The onslaught on your thighs continue. Tomura slightly hunched over to get a good look at your pussy. The tent in his boxers telling you he’s enjoying this as much as you are. His hand coming closer to your heat, still slapping your skin a delicious cherry pink. Spots of blue slowly forming, only making you even wetter.

“Can’t even let me play my game without wanting me to fuck you, pathetic slut.”

The smacking and his words bring tears to your eyes. And he was right. The poor man can’t even play a nice afternoon of Diablo III without you trying to suck him off. Your desire for him just to heavy to bear. The only remedy was getting your brains get fucked out of you.

“Answer me, slut!”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. I’m a pathetic slut! Please, I need it, Tomura, I need- Ah ah aaahaa!”

Your breath hitches in your throat. His hand finally came down where you needed it. The walls of your pussy squeezing around nothing. Lungs sucking back oxygen, but only momentarily. A hand wrapping around your throat, preventing your body from getting the air it needs. Mouth falling open, you can only give in to the feeling of pleasure you’re about to experience.

A little further down the bed you can hear Tomura shuffle around, probably taking off his boxers. When his face comes into your view, you can already feel the heaviness of his cock resting atop your stomach. His balls rub against your clit and you try to chase the movement. But that only earns you a long pinch on your nipple with his free hand. Your eyes focus back on his face and see a devious grin.

“If you wanna act like a cum hungry bitch, then fine. I’ll fucking breed you and I won’t stop ‘til I say we’re done,” He spat out.

Hoarse and whimpering, you strain your voice: “Yesyesyesyes, please Tomu, ye-e-ee-es.”

He aligns himself at your entrance while coating his dick with your overflowing juices. From all he’s done to you before, the moment he slips in there isn’t any resistance. Walls greedily suck him closer and closer, until he bottoms out. One hand still on your throat, the other pushing back your legs into a mating press, he takes a moment to collect himself. His fingers slightly ease up on your airway before pressing down again. Sure, he loves choke play, but he has no interest in fucking you when you’re unconscious.

“Greedy, greedy little cunt I’ve found myself in,” he pants out.

Drawing back slowly, only to slam back in hard. Setting up a brutal pace, not caring about slowing down any time soon. He leans his weight onto you, his hot breath fanning across your drooling face. Small little whimpers are drowned out by the sound of his hips slamming into yours. His eyes never leave your face, wanting to see every tiny detail as he takes total control over your body. How you tongue lulls to the side of your mouth, your drool smeared across your cheek, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes roll back.

He loves it. He revels in the feeling of having you beneath him at his complete mercy. Seeing sides of you no one else ever sees. And they won’t. He’ll make sure of that. Only he is allowed to see your pretty face twisted in the throws of pleasure. Only he can touch you like that. Him and him alone.

Feeling your walls contracting, trapping him like a vice. He can feel the head of his cock slam up against the spongy part that leaves you speechless every single time. He swears he’s in heaven. Fucking the love of his life, his perfect little cum whore, within an inch of her life. The feeling of dominance it gives him is addicting. Your body is addicting. You are addicting. And he’ll be damned if he ever has to part from you.

“Think you’ve earned it to be filled with my seed,” he barely manages to get out.

You don’t respond. You can’t. All you can do is try to do is follow his cock as he uses you like cocksleeve. Wrapped around him forever.

“Fucking right, you’ve earned it. My good girl, spread open just for me… Take it, take what I allow you to have.”

The words of small praise and demand send you over the ledge. Falling in a white, blinding bliss of euphoria as his hand releases your throat. Your lungs filling with air as you’re cumming on Tomura’s cock. Your cunt sucking him deeper and deeper ‘til he can’t move anymore. He ruts against your soaking wet hole to chase his own release.

His hands grip the back of your knees. Leaving bruises in their place as he fills you up with his seed, all the way to the brim before it spills back out of you. Chants of your name spill out his mouth like it’s the only thing he can remember.

Slowing down and regaining his breath, he pulls out of you. Strings of mixed juices still connecting you two. As he lays down, he rolls you on your side to unbind your wrists. Throwing away the panties he used to tie you with, he pulls you against him.

With sleep at the forefront of your mind, you hug him lazily. The beating of Tomura’s heart slowing down aswell, as sleep tries to overtake him. With a fond smile on his smile and you in his arms, he allows himself to drift off.

Two bodies, joined together as they lay with the sound of the ending rain.

Tagged: @reinawritesbnha @thots4daze @aizawascumslut @hipster-merchant-of-death

[mermaidcashton]

if i knew you were comin’

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: ashton irwin/reader, baker AU  prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”  wordcount: 3344 warnings: swearing a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘if i knew you were comin' i'd've baked a cake’ by eileen barton  if i knew you were comin’ ***

It would have been a real cliché had it been pouring with rain, the first time you saw him. If an unexpected thunderstorm in June had sent you into the little hipster bakery by necessity, a beacon of shelter in the form of a black & white sign that said ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. As it was, you were simply hungry in the rich sunshine, miles from home, and a sucker for bagels. That wasn’t very rom-com, really. 

The cliché came in when you saw him for the first time; laugh bright on his face, flour in his pillar box red hair. You felt every love-at-first-sight trope possible in that moment; brass band playing, lightning striking, arrows piercing. 

But it was raining now - slowly but with determination from the grey September sky - and you felt it, still.

***

The old fashioned bell above the heavy door rang out as you pushed your way into the bakery, immediately feeling enveloped in warmth. You shook off the excess water pooling on your umbrella out of the open door before you let it close as gently as possible behind you, spinning back around to assess the scene before you.

The shop was an assault on the senses every time you visited; the smell of 50 different baked goods intermingling and somehow achieving a harmony in your nose, the sound of the eclectic playlist they kept adding to filling the shop, and the assault on the eyes came in the form of bright hanging lights, extensive art on the walls, and the staff themselves.  

“Hello, you! Get in here; it’s horrible out there!”

You smiled widely, genuinely, at the greeting. “Hey, Calum! How are you?” You replied, stepping up to the counter. Calum ran his hand over his very short blonde hair with a smile that you were sure accounted for at least 25% of their sales. Not that you’d know; only one of the co-owners kept you spending more than you could really afford on focaccia bread, and he was nowhere to be seen.

“Can’t complain, real-well, actually, I can,” Calum changed his mind mid-sentence, face growing indignant. “Ash went to drop the banking off at Natwest 30 minutes ago, and Luke was due 5 minutes before you walked in, and I’m dying for a piss, and I-” The bell above the door shook like a hurricane had just come through the door, and in the form of a 6’2” blonde streak of limbs, it kind of had. “Sorry, sorry, I’m he-woah!” Luke skidded across the shiny white floor on his damp black Converse, windmilling his long arms until he caught one of only three tables in the place, and brought himself to a jolting stop. 

Calum rolled his eyes. “This fucken’ guy.” He muttered, but you could see the fondness painted all over his golden brown face. “Luke, I need to pee; look after our best customer for me!” Calum bolted out from behind the counter, showing off his black tank top and pinstriped trousers as he pulled his black branded apron off on his way to the door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ across the shop. You could hear his Doc Martens squeaking on the tiles as he disappeared through the door and Luke took his place behind the counter, chucking his backpack through the archway that attached the shop to the bakery’s kitchen.  “Ooh, Ashton won’t like finding your backpack in his kitchen when he gets back!” You tease, leaning onto the ledge that separates you from Luke. The absent baker was very particular about his immaculate commercial kitchen and everything in it, and you knew something would definitely be said about the fact that Luke’s wet backpack was now lying on the floor by the ovens. Calum had once told you about a time he had simply moved Ashton’s sourdough starter across the kitchen, and the incident that had followed (and lasted for three days). “Ooh, won’t he!” Luke cooed, tying his own D&S Bakehouse apron with a messy bow on his stomach. “You’d know, being our resident Ashton expert and all.” You felt the flush begin to bloom on your cheeks before you saw it reflected in Luke’s stupid stainless steel coffee machine. You stuck your chin out as defiantly as possible. “I don’t know what that means, and I also don’t care. I’d like a Flat White, please, barista!”  Luke clutched his chest with a large hand, gasping dramatically. “So harsh! My own job title! You missed ‘Retail Assistant’ and ‘Shop Hunk’, but I’ll forgive you because I know you’re having Ashton withdrawals right now. Haven’t seen you since last week, kiddo!” Opting to ignore his needling about the Ashton situation, you set your own backpack on the floor as you let out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s been a bit chaotic this week. But I said I’d try and come by today, and I can’t live without Calum’s doughnuts much longer, so here I am.” “Yeah, that’s definitely what you can’t live without.” Luke snorted, filling the portafilter with coffee grounds. The staff door swung open before you could respond, Calum sailing back into the bakery. “Does he come with an off switch?” You groaned, shaking your head at the bottle blonde as he laughed and groaned with you. “God, if he did, I’d use it so often he’d never be ‘on’.” “You love me, they love me, everybody loves me!” Luke sang at volume as the coffee machine began to grind and whir. Calum rolled his eyes as he shut the door to the counter. “The girls from the high school down the street love you, I’ll give you that, but that’s about it.”   “The boys, too.” Luke wiggled his eyebrows at you ridiculously, tapping the used coffee grounds into the bin with a flourish. You couldn’t help but giggle; you’d grown so fond of Luke and Calum in the three months you’d been visiting the bakery that you considered them friends. And as you started examining the case in front of you, filled with the most delicious looking cakes, pastries and doughnuts you’d ever seen, you thought that surely friends with access to coffee and baked goods were the best friends to have. “What are you thinking, love?” Calum asked, watching your eyes flick between peanut butter brownies and cinnamon rolls.  “I don’t know; everything always looks so good!” You whined. “I think I’m definitely in the mood for something sweet, though.” “I’m right here, baby!” Luke trilled as he placed a steaming cup on the counter, looking very pleased with himself. “Do I need to tell Michael about this flirty behaviour, Luke?” Calum teased. Luke shrugged, completely nonplussed. “If you want. He’s so hot when he gets jealous.” Calum rolled his eyes again as he made his way into the kitchen. “Luke, move your backpack before Ash gets back unless you want to get bollocked!” He called over his shoulder. “Uh oh, too late.” Luke groaned, looking past you through the glass of the shop front, moments before the shop bell sounded out for a third time. You would definitely play it cool and not turn around if it was anyone but Ashton; you swear, this man is actually magnetic. The Hall & Oates’ song coming from the speakers seems to slow down as he comes into your line of sight, like in every movie you’ve ever seen with a leading man half as gorgeous as this one. Ashton was wearing his signature black boots and ripped jeans, with a white tank top and the leather jacket that you were sure would smell just like him; flour, grapefruit, sandalwood and whatever he used to put his hair into any of the styles that drove you so crazy. Today he had that one styled curl falling onto his face, and right now it was soaked and sending a trail of water down to drop from his chiseled jaw.  “You took your time, bread boy.” Calum called from the kitchen, doing Luke a solid of hiding his backpack underneath the furthermost kitchen counter as he did. Ashton huffed out half a laugh, running both hands through his wet hair and bending forward to shake it off as much as he could. “I don’t even only bake bread! Why do you insist on calling me that? Especially in front of my favourite customer.”  Despite knowing that you were currently the only customer in the bakery, your brain immediately began questioning whether or not he was referring to you. Then, he straightened up with his arms high, hands slicking his red hair back, and looked straight at you with unwavering eye contact. “Hey.”  That one word, combined with those eyes and him looking like he was in 2020’s answer to a Whitesnake video dragged your heart straight into your throat.  “Hey.” You echoed, hoping you were imagining the slightly breathless quality to your voice. Ashton’s serious-supermodel face broke into his brightest smile - seemingly just for you - before he began to stride past you to head behind the counter, shrugging his wet jacket off as he went. “I see you’re sorted with a drink; what have you chosen to eat? Or is this a flying visit?” “I was just doing my usual, actually.” You replied, dragging your eyes away from the tattoos on his arms to glance back down at the many glass cases of treats. “Struggling to decide?” Ashton teased lightly, tying his apron strings into a bow at his waist. You giggled, feeling inordinately pleased that he knew exactly what you meant. “Well, my lattices should be cool by now. Cal?” Ashton called into the kitchen, where the sound of stand mixers could now be heard. You hadn’t even noticed Calum leaving the shop to bake in the back. As you realised Luke was also nowhere to be seen, the assistants’ head appeared from the side of the archway. “Calum says he is a very busy man and he thought you had things under control out here.” You frowned slightly, not understanding the inflection the blonde had put on ‘under control’. Must be a private joke; one that made Ashton steadily flush down his neck. “Shut up, Luke! I just want the top tray on the cooling rack by the main pantry, please.” Luke tapped his head with two fingers in an ‘aye aye, Captain’ gesture and momentarily vanished from view. Ashton cleared his throat, directing his words back to you. “I thought you said you were going to try and come by today. I made Cherry & Custard Lattices earlier; you love cherry, right?” You didn’t know what to say, so opted to just stare back at Ashton in surprise until you saw doubt in his eyes. “Yes! I did, say that, and I do - love cherry. You remembered that?” The smile on your face felt like it was spread impossibly wide, over your cheeks and beyond.  “Of course! I’m glad you’re here, actually…” “Here you go!” Luke said, sounding almost gleeful as he put the tray of pastries on the worktop behind Ashton. Normally, you would expect Luke to arrange them in a space in one of the cabinets and carefully handwrite a little sign for them, but not today, apparently. He was already taking strides back to the kitchen to help Calum, throwing you both a look over his shoulder that was definitely cheeky. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” Ashton went so unbelievably red that it made his flush from before look like his natural skin tone. For lack of something to do with yourself in a confusing, slightly awkward situation that you didn’t fully understand, you picked up the coffee Luke had made for you and took a small sip. Ashton took a breath and seemed to steel himself for something. “I’ve got something to ask you.” He cocked his head slightly to one side before taking a slightly wistful tone. “Do you remember the day we met?” *** You looked up at the stark sign above the world’s most appetising window display. ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. It was a little after your usual lunchtime and you were starving. You’d never been to this place before, but you could see slices of puff pastry topped with everything you could imagine; asparagus, pesto, goats cheese, tomatoes, bacon, mushrooms - all topped with melted cheese, so that was that. You made your way through the glossy black door into the bakery, and were struck by how cool it looked inside. The main walls were exposed brick painted white, covered with a broad range of paintings, posters, sketches, photographs and signs. Black boards covered in white chalk writing detailing baked goods and hot drinks, opening hours and little doodles. Shelves with all manner of trinkets and decorations adorned any parts of the walls that there wasn’t something else. Sleek white tiles covered the floor, counters and the walls leading off to the restrooms and a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’. There were ferns and succulents dotted around the place, and recycled glass bottles on a few black cafe tables with a single red rose in each. There were cases and displays of every kind of baked good you could imagine at the counter, running along the windows, and high above the worktops behind the counter. Stevie Wonder segued into Fleetwood Mac over the speakers in the corners,audible above the babble of noise of the customers already in the bakery.  A couple at the farthest table were tucking into big slices of two of the most incredible looking cakes you had ever seen in your life. At the till, a girl with a high ponytail and tiny denim shorts was taking a branded pastry box from a tall, skinny-but-somehow-broad guy. Another man with a black hat pulled low on his head brushed his fluffy blonde hair out of his eyes where he sat at one of the tables opposite the counter. He shot the staff member a beaming smile and a thumbs up, then returned his attention to the laptop open on his table. You eagerly made your way forward as the girl with the ponytail began to exit the shop. “Hi! I’m Luke, welcome to Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. What can I get for you?” The worker - Luke - greeted you enthusiastically with a toothy smile. His smile faltered slightly when you asked for an iced coffee to go with your lunch, but before you could think about it, he sprang into action as a second man appeared from an archway beside him, mid laugh. You divert your attention to the newcomer and your heart skips way more than a beat. He was, without question, the most beautiful human you had ever seen in your life. He was tall - though not as tall as Luke, but twice as broad. The muscles in his arms bulged through his t-shirt, and you could see tattoos on his arms and wrists. His hair was in a perfect quiff, and the brightest shade of red you could imagine. You noticed what appeared to be flour speckled across the top of it, and melted slightly more. His face was a set of perfect, sharp angles contrasting with the soft dimples in his cheeks as he laughed. You had never been so aware of every molecule of your own body. You felt tingly and numb and on high alert all at once. The urge to lick your lips was suddenly overwhelming. “How are you getting on, Luke? Did I hear an iced coffee order over Calum’s shenanigans back there?” His voice was like hearing a song on the radio that you haven’t heard in ages but always loved. Luke shook his head and played it cool, whilst the love of your life turned to you with a warm smile. “It’s Luke’s first day! Go easy on him. How is he doing?”  “Ashton! I know exactly what I am doing!” Luke sniffed, opening a cabinet door that turns out to be a freezer drawer and scooping ice with confidence. Ashton giggled again and held his hands up in surrender, shooting you another smile before heading around Luke and out onto the bakery floor. You unconsciously followed him with your eyes, across the room to the window cabinets where he began making adjustments to the display. He had to bend and lean to reach the very front, and after allowing yourself a few seconds to stare at his ass in tight, black jeans, you came to your senses and reluctantly diverted your eyes back to the counter. Luke leant conspiratorially towards the counter and you unconsciously mirrored his movement before he began to whisper to you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He laughed as he straightened back up and steadied the coffee cup in his hand before continuing in an airy, cheerful voice. “I almost never do!” “I’m sure it’ll be great, don’t worry!” You reassured, casting an eye over the blender Luke was working with now. You were sure it would be. Probably. Your eyes traced the white printed branding that adorned the apron on Luke’s chest; a traditional tattoo style dagger and snake.  “Why Dagger & Snake?” “Oh, that’s a question for one of the bossmen! Ashton!” Luke called across the shop. “Yeah?” You jumped at the voice that came from right behind you, spinning around and coming face to face with Ashton wiping his hands on his apron. “Sorry!” Ashton apologised. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” A soft, genuine smile played on his lips as you took in just how hazel his eyes were. You felt like you’d just walked up a flight of 200 stairs. “The lady would like to know why you and Cal named this place Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. Oh, balls.” Something hit the floor behind you, but you paid it no mind as Ashton’s face lit up. “They go together, to mean a bunch of stuff, right? Kept seeing them at tattoo shops, together. They can symbolise healing, the Roman god of luck, good vs evil; loads of cool stuff. But always together; that’s me and Cal - Calum, my best friend, we own this place, 50/50. He got the dagger, I got the snake. Brothers, forever.” Ashton talked with such conviction, and pulled his t-shirt sleeve with enthusiasm as he held his arm out to you, showing you a stark black tattoo of a snake. “That’s so sweet.” You breathed out, without really thinking about it. He looked at you like he hadn’t expected that adjective, but like he was turning it over in his mind. “And cool!” you added, nodding slightly. “You think so?” Ashton smiled, pulling his sleeve back down, looking quietly pleased. You let a few seconds tick by in silence, looking into his eyes to see what you could see. It looked like the whole world. “Yeah, I do.”

***

“Um...I think so, yes.” You thought you were just about straddling the line between casual and so-nervous-you-could-honestly-throw-up-a-little. “I wanted to ask you this that day, but I thought I’d sound so creepy, and unprofessional, and I didn’t want you to think I was a freak, or that I did this all the time, but-” Unless you were projecting, Ashton looked as nervous as you felt. “Ashton, point! Get there!” Luke yelled gleefully from the kitchen, followed immediately by a sound that you were fairly certain was Calum smacking him upside the head. The yelp of ‘Ow!’ that followed it seemed to confirm your suspicions.  Ashton faltered slightly, looking embarrassed and mumbling something about ‘idiot’ and ‘fired’. “Ashton.” You reached out your hand and placed it on his where he was nervously drumming on the counter again before you even thought about it. You weren’t sure which of you was more surprised at your involuntary action.  Ashton raised his eyes back to you, peering at you with hope in his hazel eyes.“You think I could get your number? Take you out sometime?” You allowed yourself to smile, widely, genuinely, as you knew just how to answer. “Yeah, I do.” *** masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab  • my masterlist

[yehet-me-up]

Surrender

PAIRING: Kihyun x reader

RATING: M for language/sexy times

GENRE: Enemies to lovers, smut

WORD COUNT: 4,695

SUMMARY: How do you choose dignity over desire when ever inch of your body is screaming for release?

Monsta X Kinks series part seven: Blindfold 🙈

He is not your boyfriend. Not anymore.

He should be no one to you. He should absolutely not matter.

But despite all of these obvious and logical facts, you can't stop paying attention to him.

From the bar he watches you dance like you're his personal entertainment for the evening. He takes a swallow of what looks to be a gin and tonic and grimaces at the taste. With heavy-lidded eyes he licks the alcohol off his bottom lip and stares at your ass in a way that really should piss you off.

Unfortunately for your sanity, and for your long-standing hatred of him, it's only succeeding in turning you on. Bastard.

Not that you have one these days; a boyfriend, that is. Even if you did, it wouldn't be Yoo fucking Kihyun. The only problem is, he doesn’t seem to have gotten the message.

Your partner in crime for the evening, Kellee, notices immediately, snapping dramatically in your face. 'No.’

You raise your brows innocently. ‘What?’

‘I see who you’re looking at. Just ignore him,' Kellee says over the music. 'He's an ass.'

She tugs on your arm and you reluctantly take your eyes away from his annoyingly angular jaw and perfectly styled hair. She purses her lips at you and folds her arms with a mixture of amusement and annoyance as she dances in her mid-thigh, long-sleeve, black sequinned dress.

‘We’re here to celebrate, remember? Not take a walk down awful memory avenue.’

Right. New Year's Eve. Party at Cherry Blossom. How does he still make me lose track of space and time after all these years?

'I know,' you say, sighing loudly.

Kellee points a finger at you and laughs at the hesitation in your voice. 'Excuse me. We hate him, right?'

'He looks good though.' The cut of his crisp black dress shirt, the expensive Rolex on his wrist, the way his lips twist into a possessive smirk as he meets your eyes. You turn back to Kellee and feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

'Shit, he saw me.' You raise your eyes to the ceiling for divine intervention. Of all the nightclubs in all the boroughs in all of New York...

Kellee holds both of your wrists in her hands and forces you to focus on her through the haze of Vodka crans in your blood and the bass so heavy it vibrates along your skin. 'He ditched you the night of senior prom to hook up with Brandi Walters!'

Memories of him in high school flood your mind. The way the air felt like it was sucked out of your lungs when he smiled at you, blushing and asking you out. The tentative press of his mouth against yours for the first time. The enormous and cheesy and perfect poster he made to ask you to be his girlfriend, that’s probably still gathering dust in your closet.

But then...the look on Kellee’s face when she tried to hide the video from you. Brandi’s hands all over Kihyun, when he was supposed to be on his way over to pick you up for prom. Her mouth on his neck. Even college and two more years in between you can still feel how heartbroken you were that night.

You shake your head, disgusted at yourself. 'Jesus Christ, you're right. Who cares about him, anyways? There's plenty of other guys here.'

'Exactly,' Kellee exclaims, smacking you on the butt. 'We've been working so hard on this case I haven't been laid in months, I'm dying.'

While she shakes her ass to a remix of your favorite Majid Jordan song, you scan the room. The guy with the spray tan and the tacky barbed wire bicep tat sitting on the couches? Nah. The hipster with the wire frame glasses and the trying-too-hard plaid shirt? Ugh. Just when you’re about to give up, you see him.

A man with ridiculously hot facial hair and a mischievous look in his eyes leans against the bar on the opposite side from Kihyun. His shirt is a rather disastrous shade of red, but who cares? Something about seeing Kihyun tonight makes your hands sweat. Every brush of your thighs against each other sends a shock of need to your core. You’re not looking for a husband tonight. Anyone but Kihyun will do just fine.

‘Fuck it,’ you say, the sound drowned out by the bass.

On a more civilized night such as oh, literally any other day of the year, you'd be more inclined to flirt and give someone your number. Go on some dates. Let things unfold naturally, easily.

But whatever chaotic and thirsty energy settles upon the city on New Year's Eve each year pushes you to find something more... immediate to relieve your tension. Kellee is right, it's been ages. And you need something more than your trusty vibrator tonight.

You get Kellee’s attention and motion subtly to the guy in the red shirt. She squeals excitedly and waves you on. With a laugh you make your way through the crowd up to the bar. You eye Kihyun surreptitiously as you walk, wishing you didn't know how well he could undo you with just his hands and his mouth.

Prom was supposed to be it, the night you finally slept together after a few months of dating. The night you finally went to home base, or whatever that fucking analogy worked out to be. But then he screwed it up and you never found out if he knew how to use the rest of the, ahem, tools at his arsenal. Pity.

Tonight, you want a face buried in your neck. You want teeth against your skin and hands on your hips, insistent and rough enough to leave a faint purple outline of fingerprints in the morning. Tonight you want to be fucked so hard that the stress of the last few months of law school fall away like a snakeskin. Tonight you want to come so many times your legs shake and you leave scratch marks down someone's back.

Tonight you want to be 'raw and exposed,' a favorite expression of you and Kellee’s. Normally it’s a joke, but tonight you mean it literally. And you want it with anyone but Yoo Kihyun.

Red shirt's eyes follow your legs as you climb the short stairs up to the bar. The satin of your red dress teases the skin of your thighs, clinging to you in the warmth of the bar. The short sleeves and the skirt are loose and flowing but neither red shirt nor Kihyun can ignore the way the neckline cuts low and hugs tight to your ample chest.

He smiles as you pass, expecting you to come to him. But tonight you're a lion dressed as a lamb, a huntress pretending to be prey. Come and get it, you think. You return his friendly grin as you move behind him.

Red shirt catches on quickly. ‘Hey, can I buy you a drink?’

Unfortunately, you agree to the drink before you learn three things that would make you not sleep with him under any circumstance.

First, his cologne is downright awful. Thirteen year old boys swiping samples of Axe body spray from magazines smell better. Second, he proudly and happily tells you he’s drinking O’Douls… because he likes the taste. Third, the only thing he’s interested in talking about tonight is the Lakers/Clippers game on tonight.

After ten minutes you desperately look for Kellee on the floor, hoping she’ll come save you. But she’s happily grinding with a Chad Michael Murray circa 2007 lookalike and you wish her well. You roll your eyes as politely and as covertly as you can when red shirt mentions Lebron’s ‘sick lay-up’ for about the twentieth time and unfortunately you meet Kihyun’s focus.

He grins at you while he talks with the woman behind the bar, raising a brow in question. You can almost hear him asking if you need to be rescued. Infuriated, you turn back to red shirt, ignoring him… almost. Out of the corner of your eye you watch as he runs a finger along the rim of his glass before drawing it into his mouth. Another swipe of his tongue along the plump bottom lip and you can see it gleam from clear across the bar.

You want to whine in frustration and need. Sure, you could excuse yourself. Tell red shirt you need to meet your friend. But, when it comes to Yoo Kihyun, you did always like playing with fire.

With an exaggerated sigh you subtly nod to him. Triumph and heat flare in his eyes as he makes his way over to you. Rolling up his sleeves, he exposes taut forearms and you distantly remember the way they felt pressed against the tender skin of your waist.

Kihyun slides next to you, his arm effortlessly coming around your waist. His hand finds your hip comfortably and rests high enough to be respectful. He bends and presses a kiss to the exposed skin of your shoulder, lips lingering, sending a jolt of awareness down your spine. The scent of his rich cologne wraps around you and you almost sigh with relief.

Red shirt, who you now know is named John, blinks in surprise. 'Who's this?'

Kihyun suppresses a laugh and says against your ear, 'sorry I'm late darling, I can't believe I kept the most beautiful woman in the world waiting.' He holds out his hand to John. 'Thanks for keeping her company for me. I'm Kihyun.'

Guy looks perplexed, but to his credit he shrugs it off fast. 'John. Have a great night, Y/N.'

The moment John turns back to his group of friends Kihyun leans against the bar, smug smile on his infuriatingly handsome face.

You snort and try to walk past him, rolling your eyes. ‘Thanks.’

His arm comes out to block your path. ‘Going so soon, darling?’

‘Ugh, you’re disgusting,’ you say, folding your arms. ‘Did you know that?’

He motions to the bartender and instantly two Vodka crans appear. Kihyun hands you one with a playful smile. ‘I did know that, in fact.’ He takes a large sip of his. ‘But despite that, you did still let me help you.’

You hold the drink as though it’s a grenade, liable to go off at any second. ‘I was desperate. If I had to listen to another three seconds of audio commentary of a goddamn basketball game I was going to run out of here screaming. Don’t flatter yourself.’

He eyes you from the tips of your heels to the top of your hair. ‘I’d so much rather you flatter me.’

A feeling almost like anger, but with far too much arousal fills your veins and you almost snarl at him. ‘What makes you think I’d want anything to do with you?’

Kihyun raises his hands in surrender and stands, facing you. He clinks his glass to yours and downs the rest of the liquid in one swallow. ‘I know you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. You made that very clear at Senior prom.’

Your mouth drops open. ‘Wow. Bold of you to bring that up, after what you did.’

‘What I did?’ His brows furrow. ‘After you ditched me, you mean? I have to say the hostile and condescending tone is what I expected given how you ignored me after that night. But I hoped you’d grown out of it.’

‘After I ditched you?’ You step closer, narrowing your eyes at him. ‘I saw the video of you and Brandi. Why would I wait around like a fool after that?’

He grits his teeth. ‘Is that what you think happened? Brandi was my friend Jay’s date and she was so drunk from the pre-gaming that she couldn’t even walk on her own. I was helping to get her into my car so we could take her to the clinic. Is that what you saw?’

‘I-’ you start. ‘Even if I believe you, which I don’t, how do I know you’re telling the truth?’

Kihyun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘You could ask the nurse at the clinic. Or the dozens of people at prom who saw me show up just after ten, wondering why my girlfriend hasn’t answered any of my dozen texts or calls.’

You worry your lip between your teeth. ‘Kellee took my phone. She didn’t want me to get hurt any worse.’

He sighs and laughs to himself. ‘Well, that would explain quite a lot.’

Suddenly, you want to reach for him. To force him to look into your eyes and tell you the past six years were just a dream. ‘So you really didn’t cheat on me?’

The warmth and surprise in his brown eyes almost undoes you. ‘No, I didn’t. And I guess you didn’t ditch me either.’ You shake your head. ‘Huh.’

You pick up the drink and take a big sip. ‘Huh, indeed.’

Kihyun does the same, a smile playing on his lips. The alcohol and the music and the sweat running down your spine from the heat of the room and the goddamn way Kihyun is watching you over the rim of his glass - it’s all going to your head and you reach a hand for his arm to ground yourself.

‘Come home with me.’ He steps closer, hands finding your waist. ‘I believe we have some unfinished business.’

You make a noise of disbelief. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Kihyun. Not anymore.’

His lips find the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. ‘I want to know everything.’

His hands draw slowly down your side, moving around your lower back. ‘I want to hear all about your job or school, however you fill your days. I want to know where you’re living now, and about your friends, and if you have any adorable pets.’

He eases your back against the bar, pressing himself into all of your curves. ‘I want to know how you like your coffee in the morning.’

Kihyun pulls back, breathless, his eyes turning black in the low lighting. ‘But right now, more than anything, I want to know how it feels to be inside you.’ You gasp and he traces his lips along the shell of your ear. ‘And what it feels like when you come around me.’

You nod, groaning as he pulls your ear lobe between his teeth. All you can manage is a needy, ‘please.’

He grins, pulling you through the dance floor. ‘You tell your friend you’re leaving, I’ll get the car.’

Before you can say anything he pauses on the stairs and kisses you fully on the mouth. In your surprise you can only hold onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself. It’s only a preview of what’s to come but already the hot slide of his lips against yours, the insistent tugging his teeth do as they nip your full lower lip, makes you feel desperate to have him inside you.

He pulls back and laughs. At least he has the decency to look just as flustered as you feel. ‘Sorry, I - it’s been so long. I missed that.’

You shake your head at him as he heads off to a side door. ‘Wait! Don’t we need to pay?’

Kihyun winks. ‘I own the bar!’ he calls above the music before disappearing out into the night.

Amused, you tilt your head back and laugh. Of course he does. 

Excitement thrums in your veins as you find Kellee and give her the shortest possible version of the story. She watches you carefully and makes you promise to text at least twice tonight so she knows your safe. After many reassurances and a dash to coat check, you emerge out the front. Fear tells you he’s left you again and this is all just a stupid prank.

But no. He rolls down the window of his Porche and tilts his head. ‘Get in.’

The seats are plush and match your dress coincidentally. He turns on the radio, more from a desire to distract from the obvious erection he's sporting than for any particular urge to listen to jazz. 

For the first minute of the drive you focus on slowing your breathing, savoring the unexpected catharsis that being with him tonight is bringing you. An old wound in your chest undone, emotion bleeds out onto your skin in a healing wave. It surrounds you like steam in a sauna, the way you want him feels palpable on your lips and hands and at the meeting of your thighs.

Once you accept this new reality you look at him, wondering how far to push him. If this Kihyun is as romantic and sweet as the one you knew in high school, or if this new version has a bit of bite. He holds his jaw tight, the muscles in his neck working to concentrate on the road. Unable to resist you slowly reach your hand across the gearshift and rest it on his thigh.

He meets your gaze for a beat and something shimmers within - a heat and need that match your own. As the sultry music plays you lean across the seat and rest your chin on his shoulder. Slowly, so slowly he groans, you drag your hand up towards his obvious need. With featherlight touches you kiss his neck above his collar.

When you reach his hard cock, settling over the length covered by the fabric of his pants, you bite down on his earlobe. The car jerks to a stop and you look out the windshield, terrified you've somehow made him crash with your tentative efforts at seduction. Thankfully, it appears you've arrived at his house. The townhome is modern, two-stories, and instantly you wonder what the bedroom is like.

'We should get inside,' he says darkly. 'If I touch you here, we won't leave until I'm inside you.'

With a laugh, you nod. 'That's probably a good idea.'

For a long moment you stare at each other. Taking in the flush in his cheeks, the way the heat of his skin kept some of the red of your lipstick as a souvenir. No doubt he can read the arousal in your blood. The way the strap of your dress is sliding off your shoulder, begging to be removed.

He looks like he's about to risk it and kiss you, but at the last moment he grunts and opens his car door. A beat later and he opens yours, holding his hand out to you. Once, this was so natural. Being with him, trusting him, your palms and lips and hearts never far from each other. As he guides you inside you wonder about the distance from that time to now. If this is just one good fuck between exes or if he expects there to be more; if you do.

In his exuberance he accidentally slams the door open, the sound too hard against the wall behind it. He seems frustrated by the sheer distance and pulls you into his arms before shutting the door with one hand and leaning you against it. Breathless, you cling to his shoulders, wondering if he means to swallow you whole, unmaking you as the tide does to the sand.

He notices your hesitation and brings a hand to cup your face. 'Hey, what is it?' His breath ghosts across your cheek at his whispered soft words.

'It's stupid, but -'

'Tell me,' he asks and smiles softly.

'It's been so long, Kihyun. I'm just nervous it won't be like we're hoping. I don't even know what you want. Do you just want tonight or-'

He closes this distance and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. 'I want you tonight. I want you for a long time. It's always been you, you know. I've tried to date other people but... I just want you.'

'Really?'

His hands pull at your waist, moulding your body closer against his. 'Yes, really. I can't guarantee the first time will be perfect,' he says, his lips ghosting along yours. 'I want it to be. I want you to laugh and smile and sigh and moan just as I dreamed you would. I want to hold you after and fall asleep with your heart beating against mine and your leg wrapped around my waist.'

You giggle and kiss him back. He's been many things in the time you've known him, but he's never been a liar. 'Okay.'

Kihyun grins against your lips and bends, lifting you into his arms. Your dress slides up, exposing you to his eager hands. 'Just okay?'

You squeal and hold onto his shoulders to stay upright. 'Better than okay.'

'Good,' he answers. ‘If at any point you want me to stop, just say the word.’

He does his best to walk upstairs with you in his arms and his mouth on your neck. His erection strains against your thigh, making him groan. You absolutely make it worse by tugging on his hair and moaning at his tongue on the sensitive nerves where your shoulder meets your neck. 

With his hands full he manages to find the bed, tripping and dropping you onto the plush comforter. He falls after you, laughing, landing in a tangle of arms and limbs.

Righting himself he grins, running a hand through his hair. 'Stay right there, I have something I think might help.'

You kick off your heels and use your elbows to move you further onto the bed, watching with curiosity as he impatiently strips off his jacket and shirt. 'Hey, no fair. I wanted to do that,' you pout.

He gives you a dangerous smirk before he starts digging in his closet. Triumphant, he pulls out a black tie. ‘Would this help?’

Your jaw drops open. 'You want to tie me up? Blindfold me? So you want me to trust you by not letting me move or see anything?' You raise a brow at him.

Kihyun laughs and removes his shoes and socks. He climbs onto the bed, scooting so his back rests against the headboard, his legs spread out in front of him. His chest moves as he breathes, as though he's been running. 'No. I want you to use it on me.'

Something warm and bright flashes in your chest. 'Oh!'

His eyes go wide. 'You don't have to! I mean... I just thought-'

Desire makes you clench your thighs together. Excitement and curiosity make you crawl across the bed to him. 'No, I want to. It's perfect,' you smile, straddling him.

He smiles and sets it beside him on the bed. 'I have one thing I want to see first.' His hands toy with the edges of your dress. 

When you nod he lifts the fabric over your head. Before it hits the ground the heat of his palms warms your hips. He strokes over the sensitive skin of your side and you moan, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.

Kihyun eases your bra off you so gently you sigh. 'God, you're so beautiful. I missed this.' He kisses along your shoulder and down your arm, holding up your hand so he can kiss your palm. 'I missed you.'

'I missed you too.' You stay like that for a minute before the hard feel of him pressing against your core demands attention. 'Now please make love to me before I lose my mind.'

He thows his head back and laughs. In quick succession he undoes the zipper of his pants and slides them off, holding you up with his hips and a hand around your waist. 'Your wish is my command.' He gives you a wink before grabbing the tie and securing it around his head.

His chest rises and falls as he breathes, waiting to see what you’ll do, hands obediently resting on your thighs. You wave a hand in front of his face. He doesn’t move. With a grin you run a finger down his chest and he shivers. You back up and take off your underwear, throwing it to the floor. He whines and his hands reach for you, already demanding to touch you again.

When you straddle him again, he sucks in a sharp inhale of breath. He peeks out from under the tie with one finger. ‘I’m in your control tonight,' he says warmly. 'You set the pace.' 

Quickly, he fumbles in his nightstand and retrieves a condom, handing it to you as though it were a precious package. 'I trust you.’

You purse your lips at him, trying not to laugh, and he settles the blindfold back over his eyes. Despite how wet you are, and how desperate you are to sit yourself on his cock, you resolve not to take him inside you until he begs for it. You ease the fabric over his erection and take him in your hand. 

After tearing the wrapper you roll the condom down his length. Slowly, you begin to stroke him. He grunts and his fingers dig into the flesh of your now naked hips.

With your free hand you slide two fingers across your slit, gathering the moisture there. You add your second hand to the motion of the first, coating him in your wetness and easing your stroke. Kihyun bites his lip, pressing his head back against the headboard. The veins stand out against his throat and you dip your head and run your tongue along one.

‘Fuck, I’m going to come before I even get inside you,’ he groans, high, whining. Good enough.

Thighs pressing against his, holding his wooden headboard with one hand, you guide him to your entrance. Your arousal eases the way as you slide down and in seconds he's filled you to the hilt. 

Years ago, when you took him with your mouth and your hands, when his tongue and his agile fingers brought you to your first orgasm, you thought about what it would be like to feel him inside you. None of those fantasies prepared you for the taste of his mouth on yours or the way your bodies line up perfectly as he stretches you just enough to burn around his girth.

You can't swallow the moan that leaves you as he rocks his hips into yours and everything gets so much better. 'Hey, you're not supposed to be helping.'

He pulls you onto him more fully and it feels so good you squeeze your eyes together. 'Was that a rule?'

Kihyun repeats the motion, angling you so every thrust brings delicious friction to your clit. With a shuddering breath you clutch at his headboard for balance. 'I'll allow it,' you moan, holding the back of his neck as you match his motion with your own.

His thumbs dig into your sensitive skin hard enough to leave marks in the morning, his fingers grasping the flesh of your ass. You’re beyond caring about anything but this moment. His face is buried in your hair, his raspy, animalistic groans coming from him make you squeeze around him.

'Fuck,' he groans, doubling his pace and making you feel like you're about to explode from the heat and slide of him inside you.

'Come with me,' is all you can get out amongst the stream of gasps and sighs you can't contain.

He nods, his teeth playing with the tendons in your neck just sharp enough to send shockwaves of sharp pleasure to your already sensitive core. One of his hands leaves your waist and you feel his thumb swirl circles around your clit. Your orgasm bursts forth like a river freed from a dam and you cling to him and he rides out your release as well as his own.

When your breathing returns to normal you lift your arms, thick with pleasure and the best kind of exhaustion, and remove the blindfold. He looks as relaxed as you feel and he brushes your hair behind your ears. 

'And the verdict is?'

‘I can’t believe we could have been doing that for the past few years, fuck,' you laugh.

He strokes his thumb across your lip. ‘I hope we can do that uhhh, quite often in the future. After you tell me all about your life right now.’

‘Deal,’ you say, pulling his face back to yours to kiss him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging @yixingminseokjongdae​ I hope you’re well love!! <3

[bldreamer]

Can’t Fight This Feeling | FORTHBEAM

2moons2 : ForthBeam

Summary: Forth stumbles into Beam’s cafe at four in the morning and it’s love at first sight despite his swollen black eyes. OR, the MMA Fighter meets Barista meet cute no one asked for. Genre: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Stupid banter. Coffee Shop AU / MMA Fighter AU.  Warnings: Tiny bit of swearing. Mentions of injuries. Author has NO idea what MMA fighting entails. 

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for months. I fully intended on making this a multi chapter fic but then I remembered I can’t write long stories to save my life so here we are instead. I sincerely apologise for the title. 

It’s 4:47 in the morning and Forth is walking aimlessly through the empty streets of Bangkok, expertly avoiding his own reflection in any store window he passes.

His adrenalin will soon bottom out, the fog of numbness will fade and he’ll feel every inch of his bruised and abused body. The cracked ribs, his busted lips and his battered eye socket that has doubled in size will all throb like a mother fucker come morning.

Until then, Forth is happy to entertain his ignorance. Anything to keep himself from having to face the reality nipping at his heels.

He’s been walking for over an hour, vaguely wandering in the direction of his apartment building with no real desire to actually go home. It’s not like there’s anything waiting for him besides musty bed sheets and his neighbours screaming cat out on the balcony.

With a sigh, Forth shoves his hands into his pockets when a flash of neon pink catches the corner of his eye from the opposite side of the street. He cranes his neck, squinting to make out the artsy sign in fluorescent fuchsia hanging above a brightly lit cafe. He imagines the warm scent of coffee under his nose if it wasn’t blocked with his own dried blood. His stomach grumbles in response regardless, reminding him he hasn’t eaten since lunch.

Curiously, Forth crosses the road and peers inside the hipster coffee shop. It takes a moment for his swollen eyes to adjust to the light.

The only person he can see through the glass front is a male barrister sat down behind the counter. Young, tanned skin, broad shoulders. He has a thick fringe of dark hair and he’s wearing a white sweater with a bright pink apron over the top that’s only marginally less offensive than the sign outside.

Caffeine is probably the worst idea Forth could have right now but he’s never been one to make smart choices so pushes open the door and heads inside towards the register. He looks up through his own messy fringe at the boy behind the counter, slowly looking up from his textbook.

“Hey, what can I get fo-”

The boy jumps to his feet with a gasp, eyes blown wide like a startled cartoon.

“Shit,” he murmurs without blinking.

“Did you forget to turn the stove off or am I just that good looking?” Forth chirps, voice gruff from disuse over the last hour or so.

“A-are you okay?”  

Forth nods, clearing his throat. “Can I get an Americano?”

“Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance?” the boy responds.

He’s about the same height as Forth. Thick eyebrows, dark eyes, golden skin. His cheeks are round and soft, there’s a faint hint of stubble on his chin and his lips are plump and rosey pink. The shade much kinder on the eye than his clashing neon apron.

“Just the coffee, thanks.”

The boy swallows. “Were you mugged? Should I call the police or something?”

Forth pulls out his wallet and waves it. “Nope. Wasn't mugged. How much for the drink?”

“200฿,” the barista replies robotically. Eyes darting over the bruises and lingering when Forth runs his other hand over his lip that’s bleeding again. “Are you...sure you’re okay?”

“Just another day at the office.”

That doesn’t help to ease the boys' nerves. He seems more than a little flustered, his cheeks are starting to match the rose of his lips. It’s cute.

“Don’t worry, I’m a professional,” Forth assures.

“You’re a professional punching bag?”

Cute, check. Funny, also check. 

“Some days, it depends how much my boss pays me.”

The boy looks stricken and Forth chuckles.

“I’m kidding,” he says. “I’d never throw a fight, it’s illegal and I’d lose my license.”

“You’re a fighter?”

“MMA,” Forth replies proudly. “Are you a fan?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. I know I’d remember seeing you in the crowd.” Typically Forth would throw in a wink for good measure but something tells him its a terrible eye given the state of his face. Maybe next time.

“Staying in or taking out?” the barista asks with a frown.

“Sorry?”

“Your coffee, in or out?”

Forth shrugs. “In, I guess. If it's not too much trouble.”

“It’ll be a few minutes until the coffee machine starts up.”

It’s not clear whether the barista is being informative or he’s just trying to put Forth off to make him leave instead.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he says in any case and hands over the appropriate money.

“You should take a seat,” the boy offers, and Forth takes the opportunity to read his wonky name tag. Beam, it reads. It suits him.

“Thanks.”

Forth turns over his shoulder, looking around the bakery and taking in the decor. The mint green walls, the white marble tables, gold chairs and accents of bright pink. It’s all so jarring it’s only adding to his headache. He truges over to the closest table, sitting down gingerly with a hand over his sore ribs.

“Any cakes or pastries?”

Forth puts his feet up on the chair opposite. “What do you reccomend?” He isn’t much of a sweet tooth but why not while he’s here. He picks up one of the pink napkins and dabs his lip, wincing.

The cute barista tuts, flicking and clicking some things on the coffee machine.

“An ice pack and a check for concussion?” he answers with not a hint of irony.

“I’d prefer something with cinnamon.”

Forth closes his hand around the used napkin and sinks back in the chair. His left over adrenalin is starting to go stale and exhaustion is tugging at his weary bones. It won’t be long before the real pain rears its ugly head. He closes his eyes against the offensive decor of the bakery and lets out a slow breath.

The clink and clunk of the cute boy moving about behind the counter is almost enough background noise to block out the buzzing starting up in his left ear. He really should get that looked at one of these days before he goes deaf completely.  

“Don’t they have medics where you work?” the barista asks behind his station.

“Sure,” Forth grunts. “But they’re sadists.” The three inch scar from the shoddy stitches he received on his forehead after one of his very first fights is proof enough.  

He doesn’t know how much time passes but he must have drifted off for a few minutes because the next thing he knows is startling at the clink of something dropping on the table. He blinks away the fog and sits up to see the barista putting his steaming mug of coffee down next to a bowl of-

“I don’t remember ordering an ice bath,” Forth quips at the boy staring down at him.

“It’s a new deal we’re offering to customers who look like they lost a round with a wrecking ball.”

“Now you’re starting to hurt my feelings.” He takes his feet down from the chair. “Seriously, you should see the other guy.”

The barista frowns. “You’re telling me you’re the winner?”

The surprise in his tone does genuinely hurt Forth’s pride. He does his best to pretend otherwise.

“I’m the undefeated champion,” he boasts with a wink.

The barista doesn’t respond. Just blinks, eyes darting to Forth’s hand which is as cracked and bruised as his face.

“I’ll get you a cloth for the ice,” he mutters eventually, disappearing back behind the counter.

Forth wraps his sore fingers around his steaming mug and blows over the top, sipping gingerly so as not to burn his tongue.

The cute guy -Beam, Forth reminds himself- comes back and picks up a handful of ice from the bowl onto the cloth he brought over.

“Ah, shit,” Forth hisses, not expecting it to be pressed onto his battered face without warning and he almost spills his coffee. “That hurts.”

Beam rolls his eyes. “Now you’re complaining it hurts?” he asks without sympathy.

“Warn a guy,” Forth whines into his mug. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Relax, I’m a medical student.”

“You work at an all night cafe,” Forth comments after another sip, poking the inside of his mouth with his tongue as the string of bitter coffee hits his cut.

“Need to pay the tuition fees somehow.”

“Aren't you full of surprises?” Forth hums. “Cute, funny, makes decent coffee, and a doctor. I think I hit the jackpot.”

“Medical student,” the barista says slowly. “Not a doctor.”

Despite his blunt words, the ice presses more gently onto Forth’s throbbing cheek and he breaths out carefully, eye twitching from the cold seeping into his tender bruises.

His mind wanders as he sits silent and docile with his drink. He thinks about the weight inside his jacket, the thick rolls of cash hidden discreetly in his chest pocket. Tonight wasn’t the best he’s ever performed, and his wage is a reflection of that. But it's not a bad days pay for the meager hours he puts in. It’s not exactly the most honest way of earning a living but it's what he’s good at. He’s not built to be a doctor or lawyer or even a coffee boy.

He doesn’t know how long the cute barista stands over him, holding the ice to his face while he drinks from his cup. It’s odd and neither of them says anything, the only sounds coming from the grinding coffee machine.

The barista is the first to break the silence.

“How old are you?” Beam mutters.

“Twenty one. You?”

“Twenty.”

Forth suppresses a grin. “That means you’re my Nong,” he says cheerfully.

“I’m not calling you Phi.”

“Suit yourself, Nong Doc.” Forth’s breath hitches when the ice is pressed a little too firm into his cheek. “I’m Forth, by the way,” he mentions, voice a little tight.

“Beam,” comes the curt response.

“Because of your charming smile?”

The boy could cut glass with the look he gives Forth and a split second, he’s more intimidated than he was in the ring.

“I can kick you out,” the barista warns.

“Don’t they make doctors sign an oath to protect and serve all?”

“Protect and serve is the police,” Beam chirps. “Doctors swear to do no harm. And I’m not a doctor yet, like I keep saying.”

“Even so, I trust you.” It’s the most honest thing to come out of Forth’s mouth all night and it takes them both by surprise.

Their eyes meet and for a moment, Forth feels stuck, like the world hits pause. Not in a bad way. But so he can take in every golden fleck in the barista’s chocolate eyes staring back at him and count every freckle dotted over his nose. The boy isn’t just cute, he’s beautiful.

“So,” Forth clears his throat when things flood back to the present. “What’s your diagnosis, doc?” He hadn’t noticed he’d been white knuckling his coffee cup or that’s empty.

Beam purses his lips and pulls the ice away, narrowing his brow. “You’re probably lucky not to have a zygomatic fracture.”

“Cool.”

The barista looks doubtful he knows what that means. Forth doesn’t mention the fact that he gets hit in the face for a living, of course he knows what it means. And yes he knows he’s lucky to not need x-rays.

“Should I come see you in a week if the swelling doesn’t improve?”

“You’re embarrassing yourself, now.”

Forth licks his lips, the taste of copper on his tongue. His cut has opened again. 

“Is Forth your actual name or your fighter name?”

“I can’t tell you my fighter name. I’m afraid you’ll want to come and watch me. And then how would I concentrate if I had such a pretty boy standing in the crowd cheering for me?”

“Who says I'll be cheering for you?”

Forth chuckles. It’s small and chesty but it's genuine and it feels right. “Ow,” he whines. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

“Something tells me it serves you right.”

“Probably. I have a history of making bad decisions,” Forth admits. “Karma and all.”

Beam shrugs. “I don’t believe in karma.”

“So you’re a make your own luck kind of guy?”

“Isn’t luck just karma backwards?”

If Forth’s head didn’t already ache. “Are you a philosophy student too?”

“Like I have the time.”

“That’s a shame. I was going to ask you out on a date.”

Beam shakes his head and mutters something inaudible under his breath. No matter, Forth is nothing if not persistent.

“Do you want a refill? I never got you that cinnamon roll.”

Forth looks inside the cup, he’s not sure why exactly. What he expects to find there. Maybe it's like when you look inside the can after you take a dump. Everyone does it, but no one knows why.

“I better not. I’ll never sleep as it is.”

Beam shrugs and drops the melting ice into the bowl. “I gave you decaf,” he mentions as he stands and leaves the table.  

“Damn. I fucking trusted you, doc.” Forth feels a little violated.

He watches Beam slip back behind the counter. Forth had never taken into account how hot the whole hipster barista thing was before now.

“You’ll thank me later.”

Forth grins.

“Can I thank you over dinner?” See, persistent.

Beam lets a long exasperated sigh.

“Between classes, exams, and working to cover my ever increasing student debt, I’ll be free for dinner seventy years next Saturday.”

Forth shrugs, suppressing another wince. “I can wait,” he says. “I’m a pretty patient guy.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Can I at least get your number?”

Beam looks suspicious.

“You know, in case I need any follow up medical advice,” Forth explains.  

“Ice your face in intervals. Always read the recommended dose on painkillers. Seek medical attention if you throw up or you have a persistent headache.”

“I should also mention I’m forgetful, doc.”

“I’ll write it down.”

“Wouldn’t it be quicker to write down your cell?”

“Do you also not know how to take no for an answer?”

Forth smirks. “Except you haven’t said no.”

“I’m saying it now.”

“Saying what?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

Beam glares. “You’re insufferable.”

“Or adorable?”

Forth chews on the inside of his torn cheek, waiting with bated breath as the cogs of consideration tick behind the baristas eyes.

“If I give you my number, will you leave so I can actually start work?” Beam says.

Forth grins.

“Fighters honor, doc.”

Another cup of decaf later -to go this time- Forth pockets the napkin, dotted with his own blood and scribbled with black ink he hopes is Beam’s real number.

“I’ll call you.”

“Can’t wait,” Beam grumbles.

~Fin.

[delirious-and-slightly-murderous]

Heyo!! 🤗

So these are what I wanna know about:

Coffee Shop AU (El de MacDonald's)

Disney Princesses (idk why but it sounds real funny to me 🤣🤣🤣)

Marvel AU

(Also, I cant believe you have a WIP named after me "Kal's Dreams Thingy" 😆😆😆 I hope someone asks bout this. It'll be funny as hell to tell what happened)

Kaaaaaaaal!!!!!!!! So glad you asked!

So unfortunately all the things you asked for a VERY in progress WIPs, but here:

So the Coffee Shop AU (el de Macdonald's) is exactly what says on the tin. It's a Coffee Shop AU. The Macdonald's bit is because I started it while sitting at a Mac drinking an atrocious brown liquid that should not dare to call itself coffee. So the core of it is that Martín is a down on his luck engineer that works as a barista at his friends coffee shop. And Andrés is the mysterious writer that comes in almost every day to write because it's the only place around with decent coffee, (but really, it's because of Martín, not the coffee😏.) Here have this:

It's only 8 in the morning, his shift has barely started and Martín already wants to kill himself. He has no one to blame for this fact but himself, he knows this, no one forced him to consume the amounts of alcohol that he did. He was actually quite gleeful while doing so. Now he regrets it. And he blamed Ágata completely, it was her idea to go drinking on a work day, she should have known Martín would be unable to control himself.

And the bitch didn't even have the decency to be apologetic about it, she was blissfully sleeping on her own bed. Because she had forgotten to mention that today she had the night shift.

The midmorning rush is its own kind of nightmare. While mostly the kind of crowd they attract are hipsters and pretentious assholes, today it seems as if every couple in a 5 kilometer radius decided to come in. Martín growls as he deals with lovey dovey couples on top of his hangover. He hates the reminder that he's miserably single and hasn't had a good lay in what feels like years. The only mercy is that at least today there isn't anyone coming in with any screaming children.

He's resting his forehead against the cool wooden surface of the counter and trying to not throw up all over the till when Denver sweps past him with a tray piled high with pancakes, sausages and eggs. The smell that normally makes his mouth water now makes him feel sick.

"Remind me to never ever go out drinking with Ágata again." The younger man whines. It's not the first time either of them has said this. It probably won't be the last.

Martín groans and tunks his head against the counter, which only serves to make everything worse. "Don't complain, that woman of yours took you back home. I, on the other hand, have no one to take care of me and spent the night on Ágata's couch." He lifts up his head and looks directly at Denver. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that fucking couch is? My back is all fucked up."

At that moment Raquel comes out of the kitchen with a tray of perfectly golden croissants.

"Guys, come on, you don't get paid to stand around talking. Morning rush is almost over. Move your asses." She says sternly, her hands on her hips. 

They both glare at her.

Denver continues on his way and Martín looks up as the door opens once more, dreading even more people coming in. Thankfully it's only that handsome writer guy from the other day. He looks unflappable and perfectly groomed but Martín can see a slightly hassled look about him. He's carrying a small laptop case and a stack of notebooks and papers.

Denver is still busy giving out eggs so Martín takes a deep breath, composes himself and makes sure he's not looking like death warmed over before walking over to take the guys order. Not that he minds in the slightest. The guy is very handsome and exactly his type. 

When he gets to the table he can see the man sketching something on a sketchpad. He doesn't manage to make out what it is before the man snaps the pad closed and smiles up at him. His eyes are bloodshot and the circles under them look as dark as his hair.

"Che, you look as bad as I do." Martín grimaces.

The guy's smile recedes a little and his eyes narrow in annoyance. Up close Martín can see he's actually quite disheveled. He looks tired and worn down. Martín feels a sympathetic tugging on his chest, it's a look he has come to know intimately ever since his uni days. He finds it constantly on his own face.

"What a nice greeting. Great customer service, really."

Martín shrugs. "You know me. And I'm too hungover to try to pretend to be nice." He smirks. "You look like you need a big cup of espresso, am I right?"

The man's posture relaxes slightly, smile becoming sincere once more. He scratches at his chin before nodding gratefully. "I would appreciate that."

Martín smiles brightly at him. He definitely likes this guy.

(That's about like around half of what I've got😅.)

So Disney Princesses AU is just kind of like a vague idea at this point.

Basic premise is that it's like your typical Disney movie, ridiculous situations and all. BUT both of them are the helpless princess. They somehow save each other from trouble while also getting in problematic situations themselves. It's just some plot outlines and ideas at this point so I don't have a snippet. But another thing I know is this: Sergio is a talking donkey, and Raquel is the badass kingsguard he falls in love with. 

And then finally the Marvel AU has the same problem. It started as a prequel to my fic 'Catch Me When I Fall' then became a sequel and then ended up as an actual Marvel AU. So the idea is that Martín has no powers but he is a genius engineer (a la Tony Stark, except that he's broke) who builds himself a suit, he's kind of a slight amalgamation of Iron Man and Black Widow. Then Andrés is the super powered man out of time, but unlike Captain América he's not a goody two shoes but more of a Loki type of character (or he could be some kind of Doctor Strange, haven't decided yet). Then Sergio is Andrés' demigod half brother who abandoned earth grief stricken after his death. Raquel is the exasperated government agent in charge of assembling the team and making them work or they'll all end up behind bars. The others I haven't decided yet but the whole banda will be there. So it's kind of an enemies to lovers thing while they are saving earth (and doing a terrible job of it). Until Martín gets kidnapped by aliens because of his superior brain and they have to go save him. It all goes downhill from there. Obviously as it's me, it will have a happy ending if I ever get to write it.

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

[techouspeaks]

Short Review on Ducktales 2017

With it’s cancellation announced, I take a look back on the reboot and share my final thoughts on it.

Now, a while back I did say that I didn’t care too much for the show, that I couldn’t get into it, but that was when the first or maybe even second season came around and I wondered if my thoughts changed over time after watching some episodes.

What are my thoughts on it? About the same...-ish. I dunno if I stated this before but I always felt that the 2017 reboot was trying to be too edgy and what I mean by that is that it tries to do more of the Darkwing aspect and often seems to put too much action when Ducktales was more about adventure than action. I mean, sure in some episodes they do stop a bad guy or they save the world in the old show, but they kept this more humble and light hearted feel to it and overall, kept it more of an adventure than just action. All the characters are always pumped up for action and adventure and craziness and not enough seem to be in between that. I especially didn’t like what they did with Webby because she felt like a Gosalyn 2.0. I don’t mind strong female and flawed leads but I felt like 2017 DT was always afraid to show a full on nurturing character, especially a female character. 

Don’t worry, we’ll get to her in a minute!

Take Flora from Winx Club. 

Her nature is kind, loving and nurturing. She’s completely feminine and vulnerable too. However, she can be pushed to her limits especially when she realizes she’s been taken advantage of and she’s useful in terms of magic and her nurturing side is seen as a strength since she can heal others and take care of things when it’s time for relaxation.

In DT 2017, all the female characters are strong and do have a nurturing side too but there aren’t too much of variety. They’re usually tomboys and as a tomboy myself and gender fluid, there’s nothing wrong with that but I like variety. I don’t think all female leads have to wield a sword or desire action all the time. Sometimes the greatest strength can come from say a seemingly “weak” character because their kindness and even loving nature is their strength and as long as they seem to be useful in some regard and have a brain, I don’t think it’s bad. I think what people assume feminism is that you can’t have even one or two female characters that aren’t bad ass action packed girls and that’s not really what it is. Basically there’s hardly any balance of female characters or even characters in general. They’re all about the same always crazy and pumped up characters or they’re too serious. 

Louie is kinda not so much that but he also comes across as whiny especially since his actor is clearly a man doing a kid voice and more often than that I don’t mind it, but their voices for all triplets sorta grated on my nerves and even though I appreciate making the triplets different and having different voice actors, they still kinda sound the same and when they whine it actually hurts my ears. If you don’t have child actors, maybe settle for a woman doing a kid voice. Least even when it’s sorta noticeable it’s not as annoying and yeah I get it. The voices of the old triplets were annoying too but least they sounded their age. I always felt like their voices in the reboot sounded like a man getting strangled whenever they shouted.

Than you have Gyro in the 2017 reboot. They took what used to be this humble, shy friendly male character and turned him into a hipster jerk! I mean come on! Look at his get up! The moment someone sees him they’re gonna know the show was done in the late 2010s. He’s not settle in that appearance and his attitude. He’s so full of himself too! I absolutely HATED that! He’s not even like how Darkwing was full of himself, where he was full of himself but because it was sorta childish full of himself, he came out as charismatic! 2017 Gyro is just...Stuck up, jerk full of himself. I mean, yes he has his kinder moments sometimes but if you’re gonna do strong, action packed female leads, why not make some of the male leads have a humble, shy side? You could go Flora with him and made him sweet and nurturing but still very brilliant. That’s what Gyro was! And I know they wanted to change him up but they didn’t change Scrooge all that much, so I don’t see why they couldn’t have kept Gyro the way he was!

What made the old DT good and even timeless was the fact most of the characters were more humble, the show had a humble feel and I get that the new series characters can be too but the thing is they CAN be, but not most of the time. It’s not their complete nature and yeah that makes them seem rounded in some ways but it also can take away what made the old show welcoming.

And again, I feel like the show is trying to be a bit too action packed and not enough of the adventure or mystery. It seems like the characters are always on edge and ready for anything and again maybe trying to be too much like what Darkwing was instead of more of it’s own thing. Though, again, this is just my opinion and maybe I’m just trying to explain more of the feeling of why I can’t get into it as much as others do and I’m not a nostalgia purest either! I really do try to be open minded with new things! I do even like some of the Disney remakes even if they’re not perfect or no way close to the original. Shoot, another reason that could be is while I did like the original DT, I wouldn’t say I was a die hard fan of it either. In some ways, I think even the original DT can be overrated and wish other shows of the old days got more attention.

Color pallet and art style is okay. I kinda miss the more colorful pallets they used but by no means is awful. It goes make the colors they want to pop out do pop out so it does it’s job. I just think it could have a bit more brighter colors.

Now does that mean I hate DT 2017? No! Far from it! As much as I complain about certain aspects of the show, there’s a lot to enjoy too and even the aspects I don’t like about the reboot, I can understand and get why others may like it. I can admit when something just simply doesn’t do it for me but by no means makes it awful. I do really like Della Duck, despite being another crazy tomboy! She kinda reminds me of me in some ways except for the fact I’m not adventurous in that way and I hate traveling due to anxiety.

I think why I like her the most instead of the other female leads is just she feels more genuine to me. I feel like with characters like say Webby or some of the other female leads, they were like “See! We got a crazy tomboy gal! We’re going against the gender norm!” and focus too much of that and not enough of just making a female strong lead for just simply making a good character.

 With Webby, I felt like they were trying too hard to go against the gender norm. Like “Look, she’s totally not the old Webby so you gotta like her! She’s smart, she’s over the top and total geek!” Which, with her I found kinda cheesy and almost fake. I know that’s kinda harsh to say and I kinda feel bad saying it, cuz I know people like this version and I don’t hate the character, I just couldn’t get into her character and again, it felt like they made her the way she did because of the SJW appeal and not out of honesty. 

(Note: I’m not entirely against SJW since I do agree with some stuff, but I’m not completely for them either. Put it short, I put myself in between AntiSJW and SJW as I always believe in being more balance especially when it comes to certain topics, thus being fair to both point of views.)

While with Della it felt they just honestly wanted to make her a good character and really funny too! I also like the fact she’s an adult and admits to her mistakes and tries to do better. That’s how you make a strong, GOOD female lead.

(Disney, take freakin note when doing your live action remake female leads! Lookin at you Mulan 2019!)

And lastly, the stuff with Darkwing Duck, YES! I loved it! Anytime they do something that had to do with Darkwing Duck I was down for! I felt like I did when I was watching Darkwing Duck back in the old days! Took me back to my childhood days! I even started to like the new Gosalyn! Like I was with everyone else and wasn’t sure if I liked it but she really grew on me! I really do like her and I’m all for the new remake of the show if it starred these characters!

And I think that’s why I felt this sort of action pack and kind of edginess with the characters fit more with Darkwing Duck than it does with Ducktales. When they did Darkwing Duck it’s fine because Darkwing was about that. With Ducktales, it’s okay but it also feels a bit out of place for me anyway, cuz I always associated the old show with adventure with more humble characters.

So how would I even rate Ducktales. I would probably rate it around a 6 or 7 out of 10 stars, if I had to rate the show at all. It’s not bad and the stuff I don’t like really has to do with more of a personal opinion, rather than something I find wrong with the show. I do recommend seeing it at least a few episodes before drawing a personal opinion and if you have kids that like action and adventure, I know for sure they will get into it.

[hockeytrashgoblin]

Ice Cold ~Part 5

A/N: A double update for yall tonight! I hope you guys are enjoying. It’ll really pick up after this chapter! 

William’s POV (just trying it. One more chapter is planned to have his POV but let me know if you like it and want more!)

"William you're dumb."

"Shut up Auston, you don't know anything!"

"I know enough that you're going to fuck this all up for us."

"I'm not fucking up anything." 

We were all out in the woods hunting. Animal blood was shitty but at least we got the thrill of the chase before we could get blood bags to satisfy the real thirst to be around humans. We were having fun until Auston decided to stop me.

"You're being selfish." He roared at me, his eyes turning black and veined. "We finally have a good life and you're willing to risk it all for some dumb fucking girl."

"Auston calm down." Morgan said earning a look of hatred from the other boy. "Now."

"This is such bullshit!"

"Auston. This isn't up for discussion. You know what I saw."

"She's not that bad dude." Kasperi said coming out of nowhere with Mitch.

"I don't give a fuck about any of this. She's a threat."

"She's my soulmate." I snarled pushing him to the ground. "You're just upset because you haven't found yours yet."

"Shut the fuck up! I don't care. I care about a weak little human who will react who knows what way to us b-"

"Morgan knows you idiot! He saw it. She's not going to react badly."

"Why are we even giving her a chance to react at all?" 

"Auston that's enough." Morgan yelled, silencing everyone. "You're behaving like a child. You have been the whole time and it's getting old, fast. As if William isn't having a hard enough time without you making it harder."

"Oh and by the way Aus, you should really stop following us around. She's noticed."

"There's no way she noticed."

"Listen you cocky little shit. She's talked to me about it. She's uncomfortable."

"Auston you promised us you wouldn't do that!" Mitch said hurt that his friend lied. Mitch always was the most sensitive person, especially towards Auston.

"I'm sorry Mitchy, but what if-"

"No Aus. You're supposed to trust Willy. You're supposed to trust Morgan, all of us actually. If you don't trust us what do we have? Nothing. And trying to keep him from his soulmate? That's so fucking low."

"Mitch I do trust you guys. I don't trust her."

"She's got a name." I mumbled.

"I don't care."

"I'm going to tell her Auston. I don't care if you give me the okay at this point. It's been 3 months and I'm sick of the secrets. If you can't get behind me finding true love and happiness, then you can just keep it to yourself."

"That's beyond stupid. He's created a new kind of stupid."

"Shut the fuck up you salty bitch!" Mitch practically screamed.

"I'm sick of this arguing. We're going home now." Morgan said starting to leave. "And if I find out that either of you killed each other to not deal with the other, I will kill both of you."

We all dispersed after that. I was beyond angry and took off. Just running, no particular destination, just going. I would never understand why Auston was acting like this. He's never been so broody and grumpy in the past few years I've known him. I hope Mitch could calm him down or talk some sense into him or something.

After a while I decided to head back home. I made sure that there was no blood on my face or anything and headed out. 

I didn't notice I was walking past (y/n)'s work until I smelled her. My senses were so intune with everything about her, if I concentrated I could hear her laughing with Amy inside. It made me smile hearing her get closer. I decided to wait for them and say hi. My still heart felt like it soared when she finally walked out. It only took a second for her to see me and come running up. She gave me a kiss and a hug that warmed me up completely.

"Hi." She said with a sweet smile.

"Hi baby." I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. "Hi Amy."

"Hey Will, we were just about to meet up with Mitchell for dinner if you want to join us?"

"Yeah sure I'd like that!"

We walked only a short way before we got to a little vegan restaurant. It was a really beautiful place. It was crawling with hipsters and elegant looking snobs. I didn't see the big deal about eating meat personally but I can't really complain since I don't eat a lot of human food.

We were seated quickly and the service was lovely. The food was also good. But I enjoyed watching (y/n) giggling and having fun with her friends. It was incredibly cute. She kept looking at me with these big happy eyes that made me feel like I was flying.

"What are you looking at?" She asked with a blush coating her cheeks.

"You. I'm just wondering what I did to get you to look at me with such beautiful eyes. I was just thinking I'm lucky."

"Stop doing the voice!" She accused blushing harder hitting my shoulder. I laughed at her.

"I don't even know I'm doing it until you say something." 

"I feel like that's a lie."

"Why?"

"You've got mischief in those eyes Willy."

"You guys are so cute." Mitchell said interrupting us. I almost forgot they were sitting there.

"Thank you." She replied quietly blushing.

"Don't get all shy, you are! You guys have such a sweet relationship." Amy said smiling at me.

"I just want to make her happy."

"Stooop!" (Y/n) said hiding her face against my shoulder. She looked up and smiled. "I wanna make you happy."

"You do." I kissed her forehead before looking back at the menu. "Does anyone want dessert?"

"No we're okay. We were about to get our check and head out."

"Don't worry about the bill, I'll cover it."

"Oh William you don't have to do that! We didn't invite you out so that you'd pay.."

"I know you didn't. It's no problem, honest. I just want to do something nice for you guys."

"Are you sure?" Mitchell said still looking very unsure.

"Absolutely positive. You guys go ahead."

"Alright I guess. It was nice meeting you William, nice seeing you again (y/n)."

"You too! I'll see you Saturday! Amy I'll see you tomorrow. We're meeting at the arena right?"

"Yep! I'll see you then!"

With that they left us there alone. I couldn't help but stare at her while she looked at deserts. I was in a trance until the waitress interrupted.

"Would you like any dessert?" She asked putting her hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off but she put it back. I rolled my eyes at her disrespect.

"I don't but she would."

"What would she like?"

"Maybe you should ask her." I said losing the smile. She did the same and rolled her eyes towards (y/n).

"What do you want?"

"Willy I-" she looked really uncomfortable and it made me upset.

"Well? What do you want?"

"I um-"

"Spit it out."

"We'll take the bill please. We're not going to sit here and be treated this way." I said speaking up for my sweet girl.

"Oh um alright." She gave me the bill and left quickly. I put some money down and stood up with her coat to slip over her shoulders.

"Let's go baby, we can stop somewhere for dessert if you want something." I took her hand and led her out. She was still quiet. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure? You seem upset."

"It's dumb, just forget about it."

"Hey, don't say that. It's not dumb if it's bothering you." I pulled her over to a bench when I sat down and pulled her to sit on my lap. "Tell me what's bothering you."

"It was just that girl."

"I'm sorry she was so rude to you."

"It's not even that. I didn't like her flirting with you. I'm sorry I told you it's dumb."

"Is that what she was doing? I thought she was just being annoying."

"Will." She whined.

"I'm sorry darling but I really don't care. She could've been standing there naked and she couldn't have stolen my attention from you." She looked at me quietly for a minute and I was worried about what she was thinking before she broke into a big smile.

"I love you. I know that it's crazy early and you absolutely don't have to say it back, I just needed to say it. But please say something because my anxiety is threw the fucking roof right now." She said with a nervous laugh. I could hear how fast her heart was beating and it made me worried for a second before I realized it was just her normal heart racing. Funny that my lovely little human had a normal racing heartbeat.

"Do you honestly think for a second that I haven't completely fallen for you?"

"I don't know."

"Stop with your insecurities. I love you. As cliche as it sounds this was a love at first sight kind of thing for me."

"Me too." She said smiling super big.

"Let's walk." I said lifting us both off the bench making her squeal.

"Willy put me down!"

"Never."

"William!"

"Fine, fine." I gave her a long kiss before setting her down just for her to stumble. "Watch out bambi."

"Shut the fuck up. You can't kiss me like that and expect me to not be affected." She grumbled, taking my hand.

What happened next happened in slow motion for me, which was really saying something because everything usually moves really fast. A car slipping on slush, (y/n) turning in fear to see the car coming towards us, me pulling her to the other side of me, covering her body as the car crushed into mine. All slow motion. I was so terrified of losing her that I completely threw caution to the wind to save her. I looked around but we were on a pretty empty street. The driver was alive but unconscious. I looked down to (y/n) and she was just staring at me. I stared back not knowing what to say at all.

"Did you just pull an Edward Cullen on me?"

"No don't be ridiculous. Do you need to go to a doctor?"

"No I'm okay."

"We should check your head."

"No."

"Stubborn." I muttered, calling Morgan. She fell asleep. "Morgan I need you to come here right now. I fucked up."

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Seventeen

A/N: here we go again, enjoy :)

Warning: pure, unadulterated fluff

w/c: 2.3k+

Chapter Seventeen

“So he said he loves you?” Savannah asked. You were sat in the middle of a bustling, hipster coffee shop in West London, nursing your mismatching mugs with stupidly small handles. You nodded. 

“Have you talked about it since?” 

You winced, “I tried to bring it up the other day but I chickened out. I knew he’d ask me if I loved him too.”

“And you don’t?”

“I definitely don’t not love him,” you pondered. 

She scoffed, “That sounds promising. You two are so shit at communicating.” You began to protest but she just laughed, “You know I’m right! Look at how long it took for you two to get together ‘cause you couldn’t bloody talk to each other.” 

Your face was heavy as you frowned, “This isn’t helping.” 

“I’m sorry,” she conceded, “Tell me what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking about how I thought I was in love with Matteo, but when things got tough we fell apart, how do I know the same won’t happen with Ben? The shoot’s about to end, we’ve only got a week left and then everything’s going to change. I’ll be off on another project and Ben’s going to be back and forth to LA for a little while.” You sighed, “It’s just been so easy up ’til now, since we got together I mean. Even when it came out we were dating everyone was fine with it.”

“Apart from that arsehole Josh, right?”

“Yeah, well he’s shut right up now. I don’t know what Graham said but it worked. Anyway, I feel like we’re getting to the hard bit now. It’s gonna make it so much harder if I decide I love him.”

“That’s not exactly how it works, I don’t think you get to decide.” 

You rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“You’ve got commitment jitters, that’s all.”

“How can I be scared of committing to Ben when I basically fell in love with him the second I saw him?”

She placed a comforting hand on yours, “You just need to give yourself time. It sounds like once you two finally got going everything moved pretty fast. It’s been a while since you did the whole ‘serious relationship’ thing, cut yourself some slack.”

“Ugh Savvy, how do you always know what to say? You’re so wise.”

“I know,” she smiled kindly, “Besides, you think you’ve got commitment problems, Chris keeps talking about having babies!”

The last week of filming went by frighteningly quickly, and all too soon it was the last day and you were at the wrap party, drink in hand and talking far too loudly. Ben had his arm around your waist, announcing to everyone that you were his. He had been delighted since it had come out that you were dating and despite your nerves, it had been a relief to you too. A few people had been skeptical at first, throwing judging looks at you, but as soon as they’d seen you together they could tell you were serious about each other. You were grateful that you didn’t have to hide, and even more so that Josh ignored you apart from throwing you the odd bitter stare. 

“Can you believe that only four months ago we were playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ to get to know each other?”

“I know, it’s been the longest four months of my life,”  you said with a grin. “I can’t wait to get rid of you lot,”

“No way, you’re gonna miss us. I bet you’ll wake up every morning and cry at the thought of me being on the other side of the Atlantic,” Joe protested.

You sighed dreamily, “There’ll be a whole ocean between me and your dad jokes.”

“I’m gonna text you one every morning.”

“Then I’ll definitely cry,” you scoffed. 

As much as you joked and bantered with the guys, your heart was heavy. In fact, the teasing was mostly to keep the mood light because you sensed that you were in danger of getting far too emotional about the whole thing and breaking down into tears at the thought of not coming into work every day and seeing their idiot faces. 

“Well it’s fine for you and Ben,” Gwil interjected, “You guys will see each other all the time.” 

“Actually I’ve only got three weeks until I’m off to Scotland for nearly four months for a film I’m doing up there. And then we have just over a month before Ben goes to Italy to start on his next film.”

“Ouch, I don’t envy you guys. It’s hard enough being in a relationship when one of you travels, but both is going to be tough!”

You didn’t need the reminder. “Plenty of couples do it.”

“You guys are basically going to be long distance for most of the year.”

You muttered under your breath, “Yeah, and who knows for how long after that.”

From the way Ben’s arm tightened around you you guessed he had heard, but made no mention of it.  

“I’m more worried about me and you, buddy,” Ben interjected. “How’re we going to continue our bromance across continents?”

“It isn’t a bromance, it’s a full-on love affair,” you laughed. 

“You’re the lucky one Y/N/N, at least you’ll be in the same country for a while.”

You challenged, “Babe, Scotland is a different country.”

“What?” cried Joe, “I thought it was like different states.”

“Christ, I hope you’ve never said that to a Scot.”

Through the course of the evening you danced a little and drank a lot, and cheered with your whole body when Rami and Joe dueted ‘Under Pressure’, but mostly you soaked up every second of all being together. The job had been such a joy and you could hardly bear the thought of it being over, so mostly you drank and joked to distract yourself, but you couldn’t help getting a bit contemplative as you and Lucy watched the guys play beer pong — Brits versus Americans. 

You leant against a counter, glass in hand, as Lucy sighed, “God they’re idiots, the lot of them, but I am going to miss them.”

Joe had just performed a particularly distressing celebration after getting the ball in Ben’s cup.

“Are you worried?” you said suddenly, turning to face her. “Rami’s going back to the States, you’ll be in London…”

“No,” she said lightly, “I’ll be over there a lot for work anyway and Rami’s going to visit me here when he can. Anyway, We care so much about each other, we’ll find a way to make it work.” 

“God, I wish I was that confident.” You turned back to see Gwil miss.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, darling. If both of you want to be together, which you do, then you will. Ben adores you, we can all see it. You just need to have a little faith.”

You smiled and nodded, conceding that she was probably right and that fifth glass of prosecco was making you paranoid. 

Once the game finished Ben came up to you and pulled you close, linking his fingers behind your back and pressing a firm kiss to your lips.

“Congratulations on winning,” you grinned.

“Thank god, hey? Otherwise Joe would have been insufferable.”

“Oi Y/N,” Joe shouted, “Stop hogging my boyfriend!” 

You laughed loudly, “I could say the same to you!”

Ben nudged his nose against yours before nuzzling into your neck. “You’ll always be my number one, angel.” 

By the end of the night you were all singing ‘I’ll Never Forget You’ by the Noisettes at the top of your lungs, holding back tears (some of you more successfully than others), and finished on ‘We Are the Champions’ just in case there was still a dry eye in the room. It was with great reluctance that you parted in the small hours of the morning and when you got into bed with Ben you held onto him tightly, determined to make the most of him while he was still at your fingertips.

———

Those three weeks you had together were bliss: with neither of you having too much work — just a few bits of research and the occasional meeting between you — you seemed to have the world at your feet. Days passed in lazy contentment, waking up late, spending an hour or two in bed (morning sex was usually involved, it being a new practice since the early starts had not previously allowed for it), taking Frankie for a walk in the crisp winter air, then cuddles, tea, Netflix, often more sex. Dinner dates, coffee dates, cultural dates dragging Ben around art galleries (despite his being an actor, you didn’t believe him for a second when he assured you that he loved it). You spent most of your time at Ben’s, only going home when you needed clean clothes and to wash your hair. You took it in turns to make dinner, and occasionally Ben would walk to the nearest bakery to buy you fresh pastries for breakfast before you woke up. You wasted time watching Ben play with Frankie, your heart swelling as you saw how much he loved her, and daydreamed about what a great dad he would make. It felt like bliss, like your life was a movie with every detail perfectly executed; you were in heaven. 

As excited as you were to start your new job, by the time you were due to leave the next morning, the thought of tearing yourself away from Ben all but broke your heart.

“Can’t you stay?” he whined, ignoring the old rom-com that was playing on the telly, mostly just serving as background noise by then. “I’m sure they’ll manage without you.”

You scoffed, “What a rousing indictment of the value of my work.”

He glanced at you from where he lay on the sofa, Frankie curled up on his chest, snoring softly.

“Come on, it’ll break Frankie’s little heart if you go,” he whispered, covering her ears to shield her from the truth.

“When. Not if,” you said firmly. “She’ll be sad for a day and then forget all about me.”

He became distant as he whispered, “It’ll break mine.”

You snuggled down the sofa, squeeing yourself between him and the cushions and cooed, “No, it won’t. I’ll text you everyday and we’ll FaceTime and send each other dumb memes. And I’ll come home whenever I can.”

He cocked his eyebrow, “Home? Does that mean here?”

You smiled, “I guess it does.”

You turned back to the film but could tell Ben was distracted by the way his eyes roamed about the room, and he kept taking a deep breath in as if to speak, only to release it and retain his silence. Eventually you reached over to the remote and pressed pause.

“What’s up, Benny?”

For a while he was silent, composing his thoughts, and when he spoke he didn’t meet your eye. 

“You know that thing I said a while ago,” he ventured, “when we were talking to Graham…”

You knew exactly what he was talking about and instantly felt your heart rise to your throat. You were nervous, partly because you feared he would be upset that you hadn’t said it back, and partly to hear him say it again. But mostly you felt adrenaline rushing through your veins; the rush of love. “Yeah,” you hesitated, your chest swelling like a ballon, full of anticipation.

“I meant it.” He distracted himself scratching behind Frankie’s ear. “I’ve been trying to bring it up over the last few weeks but it never felt like the right time. You always seemed so happy and I didn’t want to ruin it in case you weren’t ready to say it back. And don’t feel like you have to, I don’t want to rush you but I just need to say it, you know-”

You interrupted his rambling by placing you hand gently on his cheek. 

He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m in love with you.”

His eyes were so round, so wide, so full of innocence and fear and hope. You could see the whole world in those eyes.

And all of a sudden it felt like you were floating, a balloon carrying you high above yourself. You smiled, a laugh bubbling sweetly from you. “I love you, too.”

Then you were both grinning like naughty children and he kissed you with absolute certainty.

He dropped you off at the airport the next morning and you were close to tears as you said goodbye. 

“Text me when you land, okay?” he asserted and you assured him you would. In return he promised to give Frankie a kiss for you. 

You thought you saw a watery hue in the green of Ben’s eyes but you blinked and it was gone. He held you closely, resting your cheek on his chest and his face buried in your hair. He kissed the top of your head, then your forehead, and you sighed heavily. You tried to take in every detail of his face — you almost felt silly, really, because it wasn’t like you were off to war and might never see him again. In fact you had already arranged to come back in six week’s time and you knew you’d FaceTime him almost everyday. Still, you absorbed the curve of his jaw, the roundness of his nose, his big lips, dimpled on each end, green eyes so pale in the morning light, the few golden curls peeking out from below his beanie. You memorised every detail as best you could.

“I’ll see you soon. I love you,” he purred, his tone soft but strong.

You smiled; it felt right hearing those words. It felt right to say them. “I love you, Ben.”

With one last kiss you turned away from him, stealing a glance before you headed to security only to see him watching you leave. You waved, and he raised his hand in reply, subdued, resigned. And you rounded the corner and he was gone.

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[unibrowzz]

My 2020 reviews

All the cool kids were doing these so now I finally dragged my ass into doing them too lmao. 

Albania- Fall from the Sky

A song I swear cursed this whole contest from the moment it won Festivali i Këngës. Like with the shitshow this song caused I just knew the whole year was fucked. With half the fandom whining they didn’t get their first club song of the year to the other half smugly shoving it as their winner despite no other songs being around to compare it to, the whole fiasco just left me knowing that 2020 would end in tears, just hopefully not my own. As for the song, it’s lame. It’s a standard ballad with OBSCENE amounts of autotune, which is weird because the girl can actually sing pretty decently without it, so why they decided to make her sound like a damn computer is beyond me. And WHY did they translate it, haven't the past few years proven that Albania's better off leaving their songs in Albanian? 

Armenia- Chains on You

A bootleg Ariana Grande song, and a really shit one at that. The kind of song only people who think being young, gay and mean counts as having a personality would say is good.

Australia- Don’t Break Me

One of the few decent Australian entries (but that REALLY isn’t saying much coming from me, I barely care they’re in the contest by this point) but marred by a horribly untidy performance and lacklustre lyrics. At least it’s not fucking pop-opera, that’s all I can say. I’d rather listen to the sound of my face being dragged down the runway at Heathrow airport than be subjected to another Zero Gravity.

Austria- Alive

One of those pseudo-jazz dance songs, á la Olly Murs or Bruno Mars (I swear there’s a song like this in every recent contest). I mean, it’s good, but it’s just kinda meh since I’m kinda getting tired of this genre rearing its fedora-wearing head every time a new lineup rolls in.

Azerbaijan- Cleopatra

One of the “better” trashy entries this year, comprised of about five different musical genres, six ancient cultures being appropriated and absolutely zero class. Probably sounds at least 50% better when you’re absolutely steaming drunk and face down on the floor in the middle of a gay bar.

Belarus- Da Vidna

Somehow, this song sounds both very unique and original yet trite and average at the same time. I couldn’t decide whether listening to it was a new experience or if I’d heard it a million times before.

Belgium- Release Me

A song which just drones on till it ends. I would say it’s ripping off the song that won last year, but it forgot that having a chorus stops your song from being three minutes of snooze.

Bulgaria- Tears Getting Sober

A typical breathy mumble-girl song, AKA a genre I can’t fucking stand. Really don’t see the hype with this one, the melody is pretty but the vocals are out for lunch and it’s otherwise completely and utterly boring.

Croatia- Divlji Vjetre

One of the token big dramatic ballads you listen to once, enjoy, then forget about until Darius in the Discord server plays it one night whilst you’re hitting up the radio bot with requests. You’ll find that “nice, but forgettable” is a common theme for this year.

Cyprus- Running

Ironically Cyprus didn’t send a crappy Fuego knockoff for 2020, and I say ironically because a crappy Fuego knockoff would’ve actually stood out this year, and I say crappy because honestly Fuego wasn’t even all that great to begin with. "Running” itself is just one of those edgy tortured soul pop songs which, let’s be honest, would have been paired with an impressive performance which would’ve overshadowed how bland it is. Kind of like “You’re the Only One”. Or even Fuego for that matter.

Czech Republic- Kemama

Standard Afro-pop, a genre we don't often see at the contest so I'll let it pass. I feel like this is the kind of song that’s infinitely better live, and that it would’ve been one of those songs that suddenly became a frontrunner after the semi finals, but I guess we’ll never know eh?

Denmark- Yes 

The quintessential mid-10s Eurovision song. It's got guitars, happy people, Scandinavian origins… it’s just a typical radio guitar song, nothing special.

Estonia- What Love Is

I mean it's better than La Forza. Granted, the sound of someone pissing directly onto a microphone installed in the bowl of a toilet would sound better than La Forza but still. Going back to this song, it’s just... a standard Eastern-ballad with some very desperate lyrics. It feels kind of outdated, if I’m honest. Like something about this just reeks of 2011.

Finland- Looking Back

Yet another dreary, forgettable ballad. It comes to something when the best song they COULD have sent was a party song which sounded like it was from the mid 90s. At least that song was memorable. That said, this one at least has some decent lyrics. Bravo for that I guess.

France- Mon Alliée

France decides to say “fuck it” to being an underground fan-favourite and takes a leaf out of the UKs book by sending the same rent-a-Swede schlock they’ve been sending since 2015. I’m just confused as to why anyone in their right mind would choose to follow the UKs example but you do you France.

Germany- Violent Thing

A rehash of Sweden's entry from two years ago, but this time sung by Justin Bieber circa 2008. Kind of alright if you can stomach the singer's whiny voice, but otherwise pretty dull and kinda forgettable.

Greece- Superg!rl

Hello fellow kidz, we are hearing you like the girl power? The super heroes? The t3xt $p3ech? We made you song, please give us the votes *dabs*

Georgia- Take me as I Am

I mean… this sure is a choice. This feels like one of those songs that everyone memes on because the lyrics are kinda janky and the singer’s voice (and accent) take a bit of getting used to, but other than that it’s just one of those NQ songs for hipster fans to declare as their unironic winner at a later date. All in all this just feels like the male equivalent of one of those mid-10s fat acceptance women’s songs, only a lot shoutier and this time he has more flaws than not being skinny.

Iceland- Think About Things 

A bootleg George Ezra song, performed by a load of disinterested tumblr users in their pyjamas. Because if there’s one thing that sells me on a song, it’s being given the evils by a bunch of nerds who look like they’ll send me death threats for not agreeing with their Pokémon headcanons. To be fair, the song is kind of groovy since it sounds so 70s, but the performance is very off-putting to people who aren’t in the Eurovision loop. And also people who are, because I sure as Hell don’t see the appeal in this myself and this whole performance just feels like Save Your Kisses for Me without the charm. I feel like this would’ve come second or third, definitely with a lot of televotes but either the jury would’ve dragged it down or it wouldn’t have scored enough televotes to win.

Ireland- Story of my Life

A song that’s at LEAST ten years out of date by this point, think like an early Katy Perry, Jessie J or Avril Lavigne song. I’ll forgive it because even though it sounds like it should’ve been entered in 2013 (at the latest), it at least evokes some nostalgic memories of shitty school discos and holiday parks.

Israel- Feker Libi

The female equivalent of the Czech song. Unsurprisingly, people went wild for it when it was released. I guess only women are allowed to sing Afro-pop at this contest. Like with the Czech song, I’ll forgive it since Afro-pop is a cool genre anyway, and even though this is just another club song I can at least see myself dancing to it.

Italy- Fai Rumore

Well, at least my wish of “Italy sends a typical power ballad devoid of anything the mainstream fandom likes” finally came true. It was pretty refreshing to have a year where people weren’t shoving Italy’s entry up my nose left right and centre. In terms of my actual thoughts I can’t deny that the guy has a tremendous voice, but for some reason the song just doesn’t… click with me. I guess I like my male Italian singers a little more gruff and raspy, if you know what I mean. They gotta sound like they smoke at LEAST five packets of cigarettes a day for me to take notice.

Malta- All of my Love

Listen I am 100% rooting for Destiny Chukunyere to win this contest some day but man was this song a disappointment. It feels so… un-special and generic, like it gets the job done and that’s it. It’s not the stand-up-and-belt-it-out soul anthem I’d hoped for, it’s just… there.

Moldova- Prison

All I remember about this song is that it vaguely reminds me of that one Meccano song about the gypsy who makes a deal with the moon or something. And I’ve TRIED to remember more about what it sounds like, trust me.

Latvia- Still Breathing

The one horrible weird song you get every year which overuses strobe effects to the point it comes with an epilepsy warning. Would be bearable if it wasn't for the singer’s insistence that this is actually some feminist masterpiece when it's really just a self-empowerment club song about the singer fingerbanging herself over the fact she writes music.

Lithuania- On Fire

One of the songs everyone thought was going to win at one point, even though it seems like a surefire non-qualifier to me. It’s one of those weird entries, but not the kind of over the top, batshit insane, you’d-have-to-be-drunk-to-enjoy-it weird, the kind of subdued surreal weird. Like this is weed instead of LSD or cocaine weird. Granted my mom, who I consider to be a "typical" Eurofan, actually really liked this song when she saw it in the recaps, so who knows maybe this would have done well with televoters after all.

Netherlands- Grow

I appreciate this song for how artsy and clever it is with its structure, since it starts off acapella and the instrumental builds up with the song until it stops suddenly, symbolising a person’s growth from a child into an adult, and ending suddenly with their death (Geddit? The song’s called “Grow”). But it feels like the kind of song that would be lost on a Eurovision audience. The juries would have taken note, for sure, but the televote… let’s be honest, they’d have been too busy drunk voting for Russia to care about anything else.

North Macedonia- You

Well, it's better than the miserable dirge they sent last year, but given how I'd rather pleasure myself with a steak knife than listen to that song, that really isn't saying much. Going back to “You”, it really just feels like a diet version of Switzerland’s entry from last year, combined with Sweden’s song from 2018. What I’m saying is it’s your average “I’m a man in a club and I want to dance with and probably fuck this hot girl I just met” song, which I a new genre I just made up. You’re welcome.

Norway- Attention 

One of those songs you appreciate because it sounds nice and the singer has a good voice, but instantly forget because it’s really not all that interesting. If I sound like I'm repeating myself, welcome to Eurovision 2020.

Poland- Empires

“Rise Like a Phoenix” but sung by a wannabe Adele and not a mascara-wearing Jesus in a dress. Like a lot of other songs on this list, it’s just average across the board, likeable when it’s on, but instantly forgettable as soon as the next song comes on.

Portugal: Medo de Sentir

Pretty, but also similar to their ill-fated 2018 entry, only with a bit more energy and less pink hair. What I’m saying is this would have been another NQ unless the crowd who enjoy subtle ambience music come in to save it like they did with Slovenia's entry last year.

Romania- Alcohol You

See Bulgaria, because this is practically the same song. It’s just as dreary, just as badly sung (if not worse because holy shit this girl sounds like she’s being suffocated), and I suppose you COULD excuse that by saying she’s drunk or hungover… but I don’t want to listen to someone ungracefully mumble into a microphone for three minutes.

Russia- Uno

A classic big camp party song, the kind of song people who haven’t watched Eurovision since 2003 think wins on the regular. I can see why people would like it (especially in this boring year lmao, I applaud Russia for taking the opportunity to loosen their corset and just send a complete mess instead of their usual clinical vote grabs), but it’s just not something I enjoy. It's the song that plays into the misconception that Eurovision is just a clown show for drunk people, like this is just here to be that one flash-in-the-pan meme song that only entertains people who don’t really care about Eurovision until the day before it airs. Kind of like the old ladies they sent in 2012 (remember them?).

San Marino- Freaky!

San Marino, in true Sammarinese fashion, have yet again sent a decade-ambiguous song which sounds like it was either released in 1978 or 2003. I feel like this would have been one of those songs which could have surprised us if it had a really wacky, creative performance (think like Moldova in 2018), but this is San Marino so you know that would never happen.

Serbia- Hasta la Vista

Insert unoriginal joke about a decade wanting their shitty trend back right here. Okay maybe that’s a bit harsh, especially considering how this song is actually, yanno, unique in comparison to the rest of this year. But it still feels weirdly dated, in a way where I can’t decide whether it sounds like it belongs in 1998 or 2018. I suppose girl power ages a song regardless of when it was released.

Slovenia- Voda

Yet another standard Balkan-European power ballad which you appreciate because it’s well sung, but forget the moment it ends because it’s kinda boring. … Does anyone else have a bit of deja vu?

Spain- Universo

For some reason I feel like this song is shilling itself out to someone but I have no idea who. Aside from the horny people voting solely because the singer is moderately attractive even with that wretched Jedward haircut.

Sweden- Move

Imagine soul but… boring.

Switzerland- Répondez Moi

Imagine Arcade but… in French.

United Kingdom- My last Breath

Not the best the UK could have done, but it’s at least a modern offering unlike the residual dregs of the mid-90s that we sent throughout the 2010s. It’s definitely a bit too generic to have done any better than maybe 15th, but hey at least the cancellation means we won’t have to see it not do as well as the BBC thinks it’s entitled to do, prompting a billion clickbait articles about how Brexit somehow affected our performance.

Ukraine- Solovey

At long last we come to something you probably weren't expecting: a song I actually really like. Which is weird because I usually don't care for or don't like whatever Ukraine vomits into the contest, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a song I liked from them in such a weak year. This song isn’t for everyone, it’s white noise singing which is a very acquired taste, but this is honestly the only 2020 song I find myself coming back to over and over. And it’s in Ukrainian too, so you don’t have to put up with their usual mangled English offerings.

[markswoman]

slow hands | ml

mark’s lips are soft, warm, and sweet. they feel perfect pressed against your cold, dry ones. you think it must not be very pleasant, kissing your weak, dying lips but mark doesn’t seem to mind, kissing your breath away at any given opportunity. it probably isn’t good for your health, being breathless so often.

but death by kisses sounds like a nice way to go.

pairing | mark lee x terminally ill!reader | fluff + angst | 11.6k |

warnings: swearing, depressing thoughts, death

cr to haechanforpresident2020

“I want ice cream.”

Taeyong frowns at you. You know what he’s going to say but you don’t want to hear it. You really, really want some ice cream.

“I haven’t had anything but soup for the past two weeks! Please, Taeyong, please!”

“But—“

“Please, please, please,” you cut him off. You know Taeyong is stubborn but you’re even more stubborn and you’re going to get some ice cream if it’s the last thing you do.

Taeyong starts saying “You-,” but, before he can get anything else out, you cut him off again.

“I need to get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in here for five hundred years; you need to let me out if you don’t want me to go crazy!”

You can see Taeyong‘s resolve breaking. You put on your biggest pout—Taeyong’s one and only weakness—and bat your eyelashes. He rolls his eyes at you but when you hear his resigned sigh, you know you’ve won.

“Fine—but don’t start celebrating just yet,” he snaps at the look of triumph that spreads across your face. “You have to be back in 20 minutes.” You enthusiastically nod your head and Taeyong sighs again. “Put on some sunscreen; it’s really sunny. Take an umbrella too. And put on your cap. Also, don’t forget—“

“Yongie,” you cut him off for the third time and you’re sure Taeyong would’ve yelled at you this time if you hadn’t called him Yongie. You never call him Yongie.

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Stop worrying,” you flash him your cute, kittenish smile and walk to the door. “It’s not like I’m going on a five-week hike through the desert. The ice cream parlor is literally just ten minutes away.”

“Still! Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?”

“No!” You’re already rushing out the door as you call out, “Thanks, Taeyong!”

You hear his faint, “Be careful” and chuckle, slowing down.

You cheerfully swing the umbrella you grabbed on your way out and hum as you make your way to the elevator. Just as you get to it, the shiny metal doors open and an old man, followed closely by his daughter, hobble out.

“Hello!” He greets you happily. “Going out?”

“Yup! For ice cream. Would you like to come with, Mr. Kim?”

Mr. Kim shakes his head, smiling sadly, “I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got a hot date with my bed.”

“Well, then don’t let me keep you,” you laugh. “But you should join me one day.”

“One day,” Mr. Kim’s smile grows even sadder. “If I’m not dead by then.”

You frown but don’t say anything. What could you even say to that? Fortunately, you were saved from having to come up with a response by Mr. Kim’s daughter, who mumbles, “Stop saying stuff like that,” and drags him away.

“Have fun, kid.” Mr. Kim waves you goodbye.

Still frowning, you wave back. “Yeah… thanks.”

With spirits significantly dampened, you trudge into the elevator. You know it’s not Mr. Kim’s fault but you still blame the old man for ruining your mood. You’re finally going to get ice cream after two weeks of craving it and now, thanks to old Mr. Kim, you can’t even enjoy it properly.

You grumble to yourself about your day being ruined but, as soon as you exit the elevator and slowly walk out of large, white gates, you instantly feel better. You love going out, leaving that horrid building you have to live in, breathing in air that smells grassy and windy and just so natural.

You walk slowly, swinging your umbrella with every step.

The sight of the ice cream parlor brings a smile to your face. You and Donghyuck used to go there all the time. Both of you went there so often that everyone who worked there knew you. You wonder if they still remember you. You haven’t been there in a while.

As soon as you enter, the first thing you notice is how many people there are. The place is absolutely crowded, which is understandable since it is the middle of summer but you were definitely not expecting to see so many people. You look around and nervously adjust your cap.

“Wow, is it really you?”

You jump and spin around to see, Chenle, your favorite employee at the ice cream parlor, smiling very happily at you from behind the counter.

“Hey, Chenle,” you grin, “Long time no see.”

“I know!” He exclaims and, after a moment, asks, “The usual?” Even though he knows the answer.

He’s already scooping your ice cream by the time you say, “Yep!”

After paying and thanking Chenle, you look around again. There’s no place for you to sit and you don't want to go back to Taeyong and his constant fussing just yet. Sighing, you walk out of the parlor to find a place to sit outside.

As soon as you leave the cool, air conditioned interior of the parlor, a gust of hot, sticky air hits you square in the face, making you wince. There are a few empty benches but all of them are directly under the sun. The only bench protected from the harsh rays is occupied by a boy and his guitar. Unfortunately for you, the boy doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up anytime soon.

You think about sitting in the sun before concluding that that’s a very bad idea. The only two options you have left are going back or sitting with the stranger.

You observe him for a few seconds. The boy looks to be around your age, maybe a year or two younger. He’s wearing a bright green cap, has a cone of bright white ice cream with blackish brown bits in his hand and has a very bright smile. Overall, he seems like a very happy person. He definitely doesn’t look mean or particularly threatening in any way and, even though you aren’t great with strangers, you’re by no means a shy person. So you slowly walk over to the bench with your friendliest smile on your face.

When you are just a step away, the boy finally notices you. He smiles kindly and the first thing you notice is his tiny dimple. You’re distracted by it for a second before you finally snap out of it and ask, “Can I sit here?”

The boy smiles a little wider, nodding. He makes room for you, scooting a little bit to the edge of the bench and dragging his guitar with him.

“Thanks,” you say, sitting down a little awkwardly because you seem to have forgotten how to act in front of ‘normal’ people. “Can I have your name?”

The boy shows off his tiny dimple once again. “I’m Mark.”

“So, um…” you decide to try and make conversation. Nice ice cream.”

You mentally scold yourself for sounding so awkward. That’s what lack of practice does to a person. You make a mental note to tell Taeyong about this to convince him to let you go outside more often so you don't become completely antisocial.

Mark doesn’t seem to think you’re too weird though because he flashes you another smile. “Yeah, it is. Cookies and cream. What’s yours?”

“Brambleberry crisp,” you proudly say. Not many people share your taste in ice cream which makes you feel very important and hipster.

Mark’s eyes grow a little wide. “Brambleberry crisp? I’ve never tried that before!”

“Well, you should,” you say seriously. “It’s the best ice cream flavor out there.”

“Really?” Mark looks skeptical. “I don’t know, I really like cookies and cream.”

“Cookies and cream is okay, I guess. It’s really sweet and perfect for little kids—”

“Hey!” Mark interrupts you, looking mildly offended. “Cookies and cream is not just for little kids!”

He’s flailing his hand around and trying to scold you but all you’re looking at is how the ice cream on Mark’s cone is dangerously close to falling off.

“Um Mark,” you try to warn the boy. “You might want to stop moving your hands so much.”

“Huh?”

Too late. Mark hasn’t even realized he’s holding an empty cone; he’s just staring at you with wide eyes, still looking somewhat offended.

“You dropped your ice cream.”

Mark’s face goes through a series of highly exaggerated expressions once he realizes what you’re talking about. First there’s confusion, of course. Then shock. Then anger. And then finally, despair.

“My ice cream!” He whines, staring at the fallen treat. “My baby!”

You laugh. “Stop being a drama queen. Just buy a new one.”

“I can’t just buy a new one,” Mark turns to glare at you.

“Why not?”

Mark sighs, deflating. “They’re all out of cookies an cream. I got the last scoop.”

“That’s perfect!” You jump to your feet. “Now you can try brambleberry crisp and see what you’ve been missing out on your whole life.”

It takes a bit of persuasion but you manage to convince Mark to spend the rest of his pocket money on, what you tell Mark will be, a life changing experience.

When Mark takes his first lick, you watch very closely. If Mark wasn’t so preoccupied with his ice cream right now, you’re sure he would have been creeped out by how intensely he’s being watched.

“Well?” You ask, a little apprehensive. “Do you like it?”

None of your friends are fond of brambleberry crisp. Donghyuck had even called it an ‘abomination’ once. You don't understand why. Even though you love it, you don't think the ice cream is interesting enough to deserve that title.

“It’s good!” Mark exclaims. “Not as good as cookies and cream, though. But still good.”

You groan, deeming him a lost cause.

As you both finish your ice cream, you just talk. You don’t really talk about anything in particular, topics ranging from the importance of ice cream in daily life to Mark’s adventures in Vancouver to which superpower would be the most fun to have.

“I’m not going to be all mainstream and say invisibility or flight,” you declare. “I think the power of lightning would be super cool.”

“The power of lightning?” Mark laughs. “So what, electricity?”

“Okay, not just lightning. Storms. The power of storms.”

“That sounds kind of lame to me,” Mark giggles at your gasp. “It also sounds very destructive. If I could have any superpower, I’d choose the power to heal.”

A year ago, you would have poked fun at anyone who’d choose healing as their superpower. But now, you think Mark may be on to something.

“What would you heal?”

Mark must have been expecting you to make a snide remark at his choice of power because he takes a minute to answer. “I’d heal hearts,” he finally says. “Broken hearts and corrupted minds and lost souls and, of course, ill bodies. I’d heal anything that needs healing and stay far away from things that don’t because, you know what they say, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’” Mark says the last bit in English and you burst out laughing.

“Don’t tell anyone I said this,” you tell Mark when he’s finally gotten all his giggles out. “No one would ever believe you even if you did. But your superpower might actually be better than mine.”

Mark beams at you, smile so bright it almost blinds you.

Eventually, you remember you have a curfew and reluctantly check your watch. You almost have a heart attack when you see you spent not 20 but 80 minutes at the ice cream parlor. The thought of leaving Mark has you unwilling to get up. You’ve known the boy for an hour but it feels like you’ve known each other for years.

“Hey, Mark” you force yourself to say, interrupting Mark’s story about how he once got attacked by pigeons at his friend’s house back in Canada. “I kind of have to go now.”

“Oh,” Mark frowns, looking as disappointed as you feel.

“Yeah, I'm already late,” you sigh. You have to get back quick, before Taeyong files a missing persons report. Mark nods, waving a tiny wave when you stand up.

“See you around!” You wave back and hurriedly walk away, ignoring the little pang in your chest because you know you probably won’t ever see him around.

On the walk back, you feel sad but you also feel incredibly happy. You feel normal, something you haven't felt in a while.

Unfortunately, your happiness is gone as soon as you step in through the dreary hospital gates and come face to face with Taeyong. He has his phone in one hand, your phone in the other and a look of pure malice on his face.

Oh, shit.

“Where were you!” He screams, charging at you. “Twenty minutes. I said twenty minutes and you took over an hour! And you didn’t even take your phone with you! Why aren’t you using your umbrella? Are you tired? Are you alright? How could you just leave your phone? Seriously, what if something had happened?”

Taeyong keeps fussing over and chastising you all the way to the elevator.

“Sorry. Lost track of time,” you mumble, trying to tune out his incessant shrieking. He’s still lecturing you as he walks you to your room.

Forcing you into your bed, Taeyong tells you to rest. “Isn’t your hyper friend coming to visit today? You need to store up some energy to deal with him.”

You yell at Taeyong that you’re not tired and Donghyuck isn’t that hard to handle, but as soon as the nurse is out of the room, you slump down, exhausted, and fall asleep almost immediately.

Almost as soon as you fall asleep, you’re woken up by an obnoxiously loud voice yelling, “Holy shit!” right into your ear.

Groaning, you open your eyes to glare at your best friend. “What are you doing here so early? Weren’t you supposed to come at four?”

“I’m actually late,” Donghyuck pouts from where he’d just tripped over the chair next to your bed. “It’s already five o’clock.”

You’re a bit amazed because you’re so sure it was still two in the afternoon and that you had just fallen asleep. You feel more than a bit disoriented because apparently you’d been asleep for three whole hours.

“Why are you so late, then?” You eventually ask.

“Got sidetracked,” Donghyuck shrugs from the floor, not bothering to get up after his ungraceful fall. “There was this cute guy downstairs. He was singing to kids and looking so hot…” he trails off dreamily.

You roll your eyes. Typical Donghyuck. “Well, it’s almost time for my radiotherapy so we can’t hang out for long.”

“But I just got here!” Donghyuck starts whining, finally picking himself up off the floor.

“That’s your own fault.”

“It’s not my fault! If anything, it’s the cute guy’s fault! He’s hot and plays guitar, which means he’s exactly my type.”

You choose to ignore him and close your eyes, trying to go back to sleep until Taeyong comes to take you down to radiotherapy.

“Speaking of hot people who play guitar,” Donghyuck continues, “where’s Dr. Park?”

You wrinkle your nose, “Gross, Hyuck.”

“Don’t be such a downer.”

“I’m not being a downer,” you force yourself to open your eyes in order to glare at him. “I just think it’s creepy you have a crush on a fifty year old woman.”

“She’s not fifty!” Donghyuck squawks indignantly. “She’s like 35 tops! And it doesn’t even matter anyway,” he says, climbing into your bed. “Age is just a number.”

“Not if it’s illegal,” you snort.

“It’s not illegal, you twat. I'm already a legal adult!”

“Donghyuck, Dr. Park was already at least 17 when we were just babies—”

“Love is love!”

The door suddenly opens and Taeyong comes barging in. “What are you two yelling about? Donghyuck, get off the bed unless you want to attend radio too.”

You bid farewell to Donghyuck, who pouts again and hugs you, saying, “I’ll come back sometime next week. My parents are taking me on another stupid trip.”

You chuckle at his sour expression. Donghyuck’s family is always going on vacations, road trips and adventures. Donghyuck hates it but you’re actually kind of jealous of him.

Dr. Cho is already there when you get to the radio room, as you like to call it. It sounds a lot less scary than radiation lab.

You end up falling asleep in the middle of your radiation therapy and is woken up by a gentle pat on the arm by the doctor.

“You must have been really tired if you were able to sleep in that head mask,” Dr. Cho smiles teasingly.

It’s true, you were very tired. You’re still tired. All you want to do is go straight to bed and sleep until your mom gets back from work.

But no, you’re going to go up to the roof first because it’s part of your routine and you love it up there. It’s the only place you’re allowed to go that doesn’t smell like a hospital. It’s the only place where no one comes to bother you.

Well, except Taeyong who comes to drag you back to your room once it gets dark.

So, for the sake of your sanity, you slowly trudge up to the roof and, you breathe a sigh of relief as you open the door to greet the slowly darkening sky.

No one’s ever there at this time of the day, so you’re taken aback when you see someone already occupying the little ledge you usually sit on. At first you’re annoyed. The roof is the one place you can hide out without having people constantly fussing over you and now it’s been stolen from you.

But as you inch closer to the person, you realize something. You stare at the person’s back, their guitar, their suspiciously familiar bright green cap.

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Mark?”

Mark, or maybe it’s not Mark, yelps and jumps onto his feet, clutching his guitar to his chest. Your heart leaps. It’s Mark. All thoughts of your safe space being invaded are gone in an instant.

When he sees you, Mark’s startled expression morphs into one of absolute delight.

“Hey!” He exclaims, putting his guitar down and scrambling to you. “What are you doing here?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You ask, barely believing you’re actually seeing Mark.

“I’m a volunteer here,” Mark says, proudly. He stands a little straighter, showing off his stupidly handsome again. “Today is my first day, actually. I play songs for the kids. Help cheer them up and stuff,” his smile wavers a little and then comes back in full force, his beauty almost blinding you for the second time today. “What about you? What are you doing here? Are you also a volunteer?”

“Uh, no,” you shift uncomfortably. “I'm a patient.”

Mark just nods a little bit and, thankfully, doesn’t ask any more questions.

“So,” you start, eager to change the subject. “You play guitar for sick kids, huh? How noble of you.”

Mark blushes and walks back over to the ledge where his guitar is sitting. “It’s nothing like that. I just love playing and, for some reason, kids seem to love my music. Plus,” he smiles when you sit yourself next to him, “my motives aren’t entirely selfless.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching Mark play with the strings of his guitar.

“I know one of the kids and,” he pauses. “He’s not doing too well. So, I want to spend as much time with him as possible and make him smile as much as I can before…”

You ignore the familiar feeling of heaviness in your chest and gasp at Mark. “You monster!” You clutch your heart, “And here I was thinking you were some sort of kindhearted saint but no, you’re just a disgusting, self-centered asshole.”

“Sorry you had to find out like this,” Mark solemnly bows his head while you shake your own, muttering, “selfish, selfish, selfish.”

You continue teasing Mark, who laughs loud enough to wake up the entire hospital.

“Those kids were really sweet,” Mark says, looking at the ferris wheel in the distance once you’ve run out of clever ways to tease each other. “I wrote a few songs just for today and they seemed to really enjoy them.”

You want to ask Mark to play something but Taeyong decides to pick that moment to show up.

“You little br–!” He yells, swinging the metal door to the roof open only to come to a stop. Both you and Mark turn to look at him.

“Oh, hello.” He says, clearly surprised to see another human on the roof with you. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

All of a sudden, he smirks and, from the way his eyes are flitting from you to Mark, you know exactly what Taeyong is thinking.

“Okay, well I guess that’s my cue to leave,” you hastily jump up and scurry over to Taeyong before he can say anything embarrassing. “Bye, Mark!” You call out before completely disappearing from his line of sight.

You’re given a lot of time to feel guilty about abruptly leaving Mark. As soon as you step in the elevator together for the second time today, Taeyong starts nudging you.

“Who was that?” He asks, looking a little excited.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “A friend, I guess. His name is Mark. He plays guitar for the kids downstairs.”

Taeyong keeps asking questions about Mark even when you’re all tucked up in bed.

“Taeyong!” You yell when he asks you Mark’s shoe size. “First of all, why do you even need to know that?” You narrow your eyes at him. “And second of all, I literally just met him today; I don’t know his whole life story for god’s sake.”

“I’m just curious okay!” Taeyong defends himself. “And I'm glad you’re making friends who seem well-mannered and polite.”

You chuckle at the obvious shade Taeyong is throwing at your best friend. You love Donghyuck but Taeyong is right about the boy not being the most polite and well-mannered teenager out there.

You hear your mom enter your room a few minutes after Taeyong leaves.

“You’re up!” is the first thing she says when she sees her child. “I was worried you’d be asleep and I wouldn’t get to talk to you.”

“It’s just ten o’clock, Mom. I don’t get sleepy until at least after midnight.” A yawn immediately follow your words.

Your mom smile knowingly at you, sitting down next to your bed. “Taeyong told me you went to get ice cream all by yourself today.”

“Yeah, I’m a big kid now, aren’t I?” You bat your eyelashes at your mom who giggles.

“My baby is so precious,” she coos, pinching your cheeks.

“Mom, get off me!” You flail, pushing your mother away. “I thought you said you wanted to talk to me, not manhandle me.”

“Oh, yeah,” her smile disappears and she looks a little guilty. “I have to go out of town for a few days. I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could skip it. I really don’t want to leave you. I even told my supervisor that I can’t go but this is a very important business trip and they really need me and—”

“Mom,” you cut off your mom’s rambling. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I understand.” You say it as sincerely as you can, trying to show your mother that you really do understand.

She has a job that keeps her so busy she can barely see you even though you live together. Sometimes you feel bad for your mom. She works from early morning to late at night every day, sometimes even on weekends. You know she mostly does it because she genuinely loves her job, but also so she can pay your hospital bills without having to give up food for a month.

“I should tell Taeyong,” she says, grabbing your hand. 

“I need to make sure he takes extra good care of you. And doesn’t let you run away.”

“I'm not going to run away, Mom.”

—

When you go up to the roof the next day, Mark is already there, strumming his guitar, looking lazily at the large wheel in the distance.

“Hello,” you say, sitting down.

Mark stops playing and, immediately, you miss the soft music.

“Hey,” Mark smiles. “Do you come up here every day?”

You nod, “Every day after radio.”

“Radio?” Mark asks, slightly frowning as he puts his guitar back in its case.

Oh dear. Usually you avoid talking about all things related to your shitty health so you won’t have to see the looks of pity being thrown at you. You hate yourself whenever you accidentally let anything slip.

“Radiation therapy,” you tell Mark.

Just like the other day, Mark just nods and asks no further questions.

You wonder if he’s uncomfortable.

For a second, there’s a bit of tense silence, then you pout a little bit and point at Mark’s guitar case.

“Hey, why’d you put it away?”

“What? My guitar? Mark asks, looking confused.

“Yeah,” you pout even harder. “Can you play something for me? Please? Please, please, please?”

Mark laughs, “You’re worse than the kids.”

He takes his instrument out of its case a little excitedly, spurred on by your begging, almost banging it on the hard floor.

“Mark! Holy shit, calm down!” You yell.

Mark smiles sheepishly and positions the guitar on his lap.

“I’ll play you the kids’ favorite song,” he says, eyes crinkling. “They made me play it nine times today!”

Mark plays a happy tune and starts singing in what sounds like English. He has a nice, soft voice that makes goosebumps appear on your arm.

Without realizing it, you start swaying side to side with the beat, laughing when Mark gives you a smug look and says, “That’s the power of my music.”

Mark plays more songs for you and you hum along to some of them, making Mark look even more pleased. Mark tells you that you should come down to watch him play for the kids one day.

When Mark puts the guitar down, you immediately starts showering him with compliments.

“Those were some pretty impressive fingering skills, Mark Lee,” you tease, making Mark burst into a fit of giggles and blush a deep red.

Mark, in turn, compliments your humming, although his compliment actually has innocent intentions. You tell him you’d been in your high school’s choir and you used to love singing all the time.

“You don’t anymore?”

“Not really.”

Mark doesn’t ask why.

When Taeyong finally comes to get you, the only source of light on the roof is the tiny crescent moon above the two of you and the lights from the ferris wheel; but it’s too far away to actually light up anything.

“See you tomorrow!” You say, getting up and dusting off the bottom of your pants.

“Looking forward to it!” Mark calls back as you rush inside to catch up with Taeyong.

It’s your third meeting with Mark when Mark finally asks what you’re in the hospital for.

“What do you think I'm in a cancer hospital for?” You tease, laughing a little at the panicked look that settles on Mark’s face. “Don’t worry,” you say, putting a hand on Mark’s knee. “I’m just messing with you.”

Mark doesn’t look reassured though, so you decide to just tell him.

“Brain cancer. Or anaplastic astrocytoma, but I personally think brain cancer sounds less scary, don’t you?”

Mark’s eyes widen comically and he looks so concerned, you almost feel bad for telling him. Mark seems to realize he’s making a strange expression because he quickly changes it into a poker face, though you can still see hints of worry and sadness.

“Oh,” he says.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” you apologize, removing your hand from where it had been resting on Mark’s knee.

“No, no, no!” Mark hurriedly says. “Don’t be sorry! I was the one who asked.” After a pause, he hesitantly asks, “Is it—are you getting better?”

You honestly don’t know if you are. You can’t really say you feel much better but according to Dr. Cho, you’re recovering really well and according to Dr. Park, you’ll be better in no time. You don't even know if you want to believe them because it seems way too good to be true.

You don’t want to burden Mark though, so you just tell him, “Yeah, my doctors say I’ll be fine.”

At this, Mark looks relieved and continues asking questions that you’re tired of answering.

“I had a pretty rare tumor that was all tentacle-y and gross and it looked like long fingers were holding my brain,” you explain. You sneak a look at Mark, who’s wearing an unreadable expression. “Anyway,” you continue, “I had surgery and they removed it, or as much of it as they could. Now I'm doing radio to get rid of the rest.”

Mark nods, softly saying, “I'm sorry you have to go through all of this.”

“Well, it’s not the most fun thing in the world,” you chuckle. “But at least I'm still alive.” For now.

“And,” you add, “I get to miss school.”

Mark mumbles something about never complaining about his life ever again, making you smile.

You don’t talk much after that, both of you lost deep in your own thoughts. You’re just watching the ferris wheel spin round and round when Mark’s phone suddenly rings, filling the strange silence wit his jarring ringtone.

“It’s my friend,” Mark tells you before answering the call.

You try not to listen but it’s quiet and you’re the only ones on the roof so you still hear Mark’s say, “Hey Yukhei,” and, “No, I'm still at the hospital.” And, “Yeah, I'm coming.” And, “No, it’s okay.”

When he finally hangs up, Mark looks a little disappointed. “Sorry, but I think I should go now.”

You wave off the apology and say goodbye to Mark with a small wave. You stare at the ferris wheel for a few more minutes before thinking you might as well go back too. It’s a little strange Taeyong hasn’t come to drag you down yet.

What’s even stranger is, when you enter your room, your mom is already there.

“Where have you been?”

“Roof,” you tiredly tell her, climbing into bed.

Your mother smiles and walks over to sit on a chair next to your bed. “Were you getting some fresh air?”

You sleepily nod.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet,” your mom frowns, shaking you fully awake. “I brought you soup!”

You groan. “Soup, really? I think I’ve had enough soup for a lifetime.”

“It’s homemade! You won’t get to have my homemade soup until next week.”

You groan again but graciously accept the soup when your mom hands it to you.

The next morning, you’re softly woken up by your mother, who quietly whispers, “I'm going now, okay? See you in five days. I love you. Bye.”

She kisses your forehead and you mumble, “Bye, mom.”

You hear her chuckle before falling back asleep.

It’s one of those days when you’re bored and hate your life. Why are you stuck in a hospital? Why do you have cancer? Why is your life such a mess?

Taeyong tries to cheer you up whenever this happens. He usually just calls Donghyuck who always comes running over to hang out and effectively make you feel better. But Donghyuck isn’t here.

“Why don’t you hang out with your roof friend?” Taeyong suggests.

“I can’t,” you moan into your pillow. “We only meet on the roof after radio.”

“Didn’t you say he plays for Dr. Kim’s kids downstairs?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you meet him there?”

You end up excitedly running all the way to the pediatric wing. You bump into Dr. Kim on the way and the poor doctor almost falls. “Sorry, Dr. Kim,” you hurriedly call out, still running.

You don't know if you’re more excited to see Mark so early in the day or to see Mark play for the kids he never stops talking about. Probably both.

As you enter the pediatric wing, you can see Mark surrounded by children, and even a few parents, in the tiny waiting room. Smiling at the sight of a dozen little boys and girls looking up at Mark in awe, you quietly step in the room, careful not to attract any attention to yourself.

You find a small unoccupied beanbag chair and drag it to a corner of the room to watch Mark in peace. Mark still hasn’t seen you and you’re glad you can see Mark in his element.

Most of the songs that Mark plays are the same ones he plays on the roof and you find yourself humming along to more than a few.

Mark finally sees you in the middle of a song and pauses for a beat, flashing one of his blinding smiles. As soon as the song is over, Mark announces that it’s time to take a break and hurries over to you.

“You came!” Mark squeals like a little girl. “Did you like it? How was it?”

Before you can answer though, something small runs into Mark’s legs and wraps two tiny arms around them, yelling, “Mark hyung! You were so good!”

You laugh at the look of shock on Mark’s face as the little boy gives his legs a squeeze and runs away. “Well, there’s your answer.”

“That’s Jisung,” Mark tells you, who’s watching the kid run up to Dr. Kim. “His mom is friends with my mom.”

“Is he your selfish reason for coming here?” You ask.

Mark smiles, plopping down on the edge of your bean bag chair. “Yeah, but now that I’ve grown way too fond of all the kids, they’re all my selfish reasons for coming here.”

You shake your head, sighing. “I’ve never met anyone so selfish in my life.”

Soon, Mark goes back to the middle of the room to play again and, minutes later, Taeyong arrives to take you to radio. Mark is too busy to notice you leaving but it’s okay because you see each other again on the roof.

It becomes a sort of routine for you. Every day, before radio, you go to see Mark play for the kids. Then, after radio, you go to see Mark on the roof, and usually make him play again. By now, you have almost all of Mark’s songs memorized, sometimes even singing along with him even though you have no idea what he’s saying.

Whenever you sing along with him, Mark lowers his own voice so he can hear yours better. That is, until you catch on and seal your lips, shaking your head at a pouting Mark.

—

One day, Mark asks you where your parents are. It’s so out of the blue that you’re a little taken aback. Mark looks embarrassed and apologizes for being nosy. You tell him he apologizes too much.

“My parents are divorced,” you say. “And yes, I know my life sounds like a sad John Green book; the kid with cancer has divorced parents and was raised by their single mother who is never around.” Mark cracks a smile at that so you continue. “Anyway, my dad lives in China with his wife, and my mom is currently away on a business trip.”

“Does she go out of town a lot?” Mark asks cautiously, as if he’s afraid of overstepping boundaries.

“She used to,” you shrug. “She stopped after I got sick but apparently this was unavoidable. She works a lot though. Like, all day long. That’s why I'm here, actually. You don’t actually have to stay at the hospital just for radio but my mom didn’t want me home alone.”

Mark looks hesitant to ask any more questions and you don't really want to talk about this anymore so you poke Mark’s guitar. “Aren’t you going to play for me today?”

Mark’s smile, once again, tries to blind you. “Of course I am.”

When you get back to your room that night, you have the urge to call your mom. All that mom talk on the roof made you miss her.

She sounds a little breathless, albeit happy to hear from you, when she picks up.

“Mom, are you busy?” You ask, instantly regretting calling and disturbing her.

“A little bit, but it’s okay. Is something wrong?”

“No, I just missed you,” you mumble, snuggling into your covers.

The line is quiet for a minute and you think your mom must have hung up on you until you hear a sniffle.

“Oh,” she says softly. “I miss you too. So much.”

“Are you about to cry?” You ask. “Mom, please don’t cry.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” she tells you, voice breaking.

You sigh, “So, things are really busy?”

“Yeah,” your mom sounds like she’s already crying. “I know I was supposed to come back this week but things are really not going according to plan and it looks like I might have to stay longer.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” you soothe, wishing you could be with her to make her stop crying.

“I’m so sorry,” she keeps apologizing in her shaky voice. “I shouldn’t have left you. Now that I'm here, I can’t just get up and leave until everything is done.”

You keep comforting your mom, telling her that it’s okay and you understand until you hear someone on her end calling her name. You tell her not to cry one last time before you hang up and tell yourself the same thing before you go to sleep.

It’s one of the warmer nights on the roof when you leave your jacket up there. Unfortunately, you only remember about it when you’re already comfortably sitting in bed. Feeling grumpy, you stomp your way back up to the roof to retrieve it.

When you get there, though, you’re surprised to see your jacket is not on the ledge where you left it, but with Mark, who still hasn’t left.

“Mark!” You yell, startling him. “What are you still doing here?”

“Uh,” Mark looks at you and then the jacket in his hands. “I was going to give this to you.”

“So, you stayed up here for half an hour to do that?” You raise your eyebrows.

Mark shrugs, “I didn’t want to go home just yet.”

“Are you going home now?”

“No.”

“Then come to my room!” You poke Mark’s nose. “We can talk some more.”

The next day, when Taeyong comes to whisk you away, you ask Mark, “Are you going to go home now?”

When Mark says no, you smile.

“Well then you’re coming with me!” You latch yourself to Mark’s arm and drag him downstairs with you.

It becomes a new routine. You stay up on the roof, talking while Mark plays his guitar as background music. Then, when Taeyong comes to take you down, you take Mark with you.

One day, while you’re both on the roof, you ask Mark why he doesn’t like going home.

“I wish I could go home,” you say, trying to keep the longing out of your voice. “Or at least leave here. I’d never voluntarily spend time at this place.”

“Well,” Mark says, not looking at you. “I like spending time with you.”

You’re glad it’s dark outside because you can feel your cheeks heating up.

“How about before you started coming to my room?” You ask. “Why didn’t you go home then?”

“I don’t know,” Mark shrugs. “I just don’t like going home I guess.”

You know there’s more to it than that but you let it be. For now at least.

—

Donghyuck finally comes back from his family vacation on one of the rare days you don’t have radio. He barges into your room early in the morning, shouting, “I’m here! Did you miss me?”

Taeyong, who had been fussing over you, groans. “Hello, Donghyuck. Welcome back.”

“Thanks, Yong,” Donghyuck winks at him, hopping onto your bed and hugging you. “I missed you!”

Before you can tell him to get off, Taeyong glares at Donghyuck, sternly saying, “Lee Donghyuck. Get off the bed now.”

Donghyuck whines but still complies, mostly because not even he has the guts to disobey Taeyong. Still, when the nurse leaves the room, Donghyuck climbs back on the bed, cuddling up next to you.

Donghyuck and you talk (nonstop for hours because it’s you and Donghyuck) until you realize it’s way past the usual time you go to see Mark downstairs.

You think about ditching Donghyuck but you’re too nice and end up taking Donghyuck, who’s still talking with you.

Donghyuck loudly gasps as soon as he sees Mark and has you instantly regretting your decision to bring him.

“He’s that guy!” Donghyuck whispers into your ear when you sit down at the back of the room together. You wrinkle your nose at the feeling of your best friend’s hot breath in your ear.

“What guy?”

“The guy I told you about!” Donghyuck says excitedly. “The one who’s hot and plays guitar!”

“Oh yeah,” you remember.

“You know him?” Donghyuck asks, wide eyed.

“Yeah we’re friends.”

Donghyuck gives you a look.

“What?” You ask, sensing trouble.

“Are you fucking?” Donghyuck smirks and you choke on your spit. “Doing the do? Sexing each other up?”

“Donghyuck!” You hiss, looking around to make sure nobody heard Donghyuck’s obnoxiously loud voice.

“Are you?”

“No! We’re just friends!”

Donghyuck gives you a disbelieving look. You choose to ignore him.

“So, what’s his name?” Donghyuck eventually asks.

Reluctantly, you tell him, “Mark.”

“Not Korean?”

“He was born in Canada.”

“Interesting…” Donghyuck looks thoughtful.

“What,” you halfheartedly ask.

“Nothing, it’s just,” Donghyuck leans in a little closer, “Mark is really hot, man. If you don’t want him, give him to me.”

You laugh. “What about Dr. Park?”

“Alas,” Donghyuck sighs dramatically. “I am in love with two beautiful people!”

Once Mark puts down his guitar and finishes saying goodbye to the kids, you take Donghyuck over to him to introduce your two friends to each other.

Surprisingly, Donghyuck doesn’t flirt with Mark.

You'll never admit it, but you’re kind of relieved.

—

Two days before the end of your radiation, Mark and you walk into your room to find someone sleeping on the chair next to your bed.

“Uh, you,” Mark says. “There’s a stranger in your room.”

You smile. “Looks like Mom’s back.”

On your last day at the hospital, you have a checkup with Dr. Park and then radio with Dr. Cho. You go to see Mark during the five minutes you have between the two.

“I want to hear you play again,” you whine, poking Mark’s guitar.

“Hopefully, you will soon,” Mark smiles, pulling you into a hug.

“Hopefully not here,” you mumble into Mark’s neck, making him giggle and push you away.

“My mom is talking to Dr. Park right now,” you tell Mark. Mark hums. “Guess what?” You sound way too enthusiastic for what you’re about to say. “She said I’ll have to come back for a checkup every week.”

“Am I hearing right?” Mark gasps, pulling away from you. “Are you excited about having to come to the hospital every week?”

“It’s not because of you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you glare at Mark. “I'm excited because I’ll get to see little Jisung again.”

Mark pouts. “So you’re not happy, you’ll get to see me?”

“Seeing you will be the only downside of coming back.”

All throughout your radio, you try to come up with a plan to try and see Mark as much as you can. Maybe you can convince Mark to visit you at home since you don't actually want to visit the hospital aside from your weekly checkups.

You’re still thinking about it when Dr. Cho pats you on the back at the end of your last radiotherapy session. “Your hair is finally going to grow back,” he says with a grin. “Maybe not as nicely as you wish, though. It’ll probably be very patchy. Actually it might not even grow back at all. I once had a patient who…”

As Dr. Cho keeps rambling, you decide that you'll invite Mark to your house today. And then you’ll keep on inviting him. And that can be the new routine. Mark can come over to your house every day.

You don’t even realize Dr. Cho has stopped talking until the man pats you on the back again and tells you to take care.

Satisfied with your plan, you rush up to the roof to find Mark, your mom yelling “Don’t take too long!” as you whizz past her. You’re out of breath by the time you make it up there.

“What?” Mark says, surprised. “Aren’t you—”

“Come over to my place!” You breath out. Mark looks stunned and you laugh. “Let’s hang out at my house! It’ll be fun and my mom will drop you off later.”

Slowly, Mark smiles. “Are you sure? Haven’t you gotten tired of me?”

“Shut up,” you shove him. “Have you gotten tired of me?”

Mark’s signature smile shows up with his tiny dimple blinding you for the millionth time since you’ve met Mark. “Never.”

“Then come on!” You wrap your hand around Mark’s wrist and pull him all the way to your mom’s car.

—

Your plan ends up working. Mark doesn’t come over every day, but he does visit you a lot. Those days are your favorite days. You get to just sit at home and talk to Mark almost all night long.

You’re in your room, texting Mark, when your mom comes in, pouting. It’s one of her rare off days and since the moment you woke up, she’s been hovering around you and pouting.

“Mom, why have you been pouting all day?” You ask, putting your phone down. Your mom’s eyes light up a little and she sits down on your bed.

“I was thinking,” she says excitedly. “Since we never get to spend time together, how about we have a fun day!”

“A fun day?” You repeat. “Right now?”

“Yes! Come on! We’ll have so much fun! We can have ice cream and play board games and do puzzles and watch your favorite cartoons!”

That’s exactly what you and your mom do. Normally, you wouldn’t consider playing board games and solving puzzles to be fun activities, but you actually enjoys spending time with your mom doing, what you tell her are, old people activities.

Even though not much physical exertion is required to do those old people activities, you’re exhausted and sleepy by the time the sun goes down.

Your mom notices you falling asleep in the middle of the cartoon marathon and drags you to bed, tucking you in. She sits down next to you and starts singing you to sleep, just like she used to do when you were seven years old and missed your dad.

“Hey, Mom?” You mumble, opening your eyes a tiny bit to look up at your mother. “Aren’t you tired of being single? I mean dad’s already married and you haven’t even dated anyone since,” you shudder, “Dr. Cho.”

Your mom laughs, “I’m married too, you know. To my work. And I can honestly say it’s the best husband I’ve ever had.”

You roll your eyes under your closed eyelids. “But aren’t you lonely?”

“Of course not! I have you.” She kisses you on the forehead, “Now sleep.”

—

Your fourth weekly checkup ends up being on the day your mom has a meeting and Donghyuck has to leave for another family trip. You’re not upset though because it means you can, after a whole month of just hanging out with Mark in your room and occasionally the children’s waiting room, finally hang out with Mark on the roof.

Getting to the hospital is a bit of a hassle. You have to take the bus and walk a little so by the time you make it to Dr. Park’s room, you’re almost completely worn out.

Dr. Park gives you good news, telling you that you can come for your check up in three weeks.

You thank her and eagerly go up to the roof. Mark isn’t there yet so you decide to hide. After exactly 14 minutes, Mark arrives, humming one of his songs. You quietly creep up behind him, crouching a little. Mark is too preoccupied with his humming and doesn’t notice you getting closer.

You’re not sure if you should pounce on Mark or push him or just yell ‘BOO!’

You decide none of the above and inch close to his neck. As quietly as you can, you suck in a breath and blow.

The reaction is immediate. Mark screams, falling to the floor and clutching his hands to his neck. He buries his face in his knees and cries, “Get away! Please! I don’t have any money!”

You start laughing so hard you can barely breathe. You fall to the ground and point at Mark, who has finally lifted his face from his knees and is looking at you with shock and betrayal all over his face.

“I wish I saw your face,” you wheeze. “That scream was priceless!” You start rolling around on the dirty floor, clutching your stomach and still laughing.

“You’re so mean!” Mark yells, crawling over to you and climbing on you. “I hate you, go away!”

You try to roll away from under him but Mark pulls you back and, somehow, you two end up wrestling on the dirty roof, getting dust and who knows what else all over your clothes.

“I concede!” You finally give up, tapping your cap on the floor when Mark has you pinned down underneath him. You feel like you don’t have a single breath in your body and you’re sure your face is bright red. And not just from exhaustion.

“What kind of monster are you, fighting a sickly person?” You pant as Mark helps you up.

“You started it,” is all Mark says before ruffling your hair.

When you settle down, you smile at the ferris wheel.

“I missed that guy,” you say, pointing at the large, circular structure.

“He missed you too,” Mark ruffles your hair again.

You swat his hand away. “You have got to stop doing that,” you warn, giving Mark the most threatening glare you can create.

In response, Mark does it again. “You’re cute,” he laughs when you scream.

—

One day, Mark shows up to your door unannounced with two tubs of ice cream. One cookies and cream and one brambleberry crisp.

“Today was my last day at the hospital,” he tells you, as he searches through your kitchen for two spoons.

You walk over to help him, asking, “Why? Did you get tired of it?”

“Of course not!” Mark gasps. “I just won’t have time to go every day now because school is about to start.”

Oh yeah, school. You forgot that was even a thing. The last time you had gone to school was the day you fainted in front of everyone in the cafeteria.

“So,” you start, handing Mark a spoon and leading the way to your room. “You’re probably going to be really busy, right?”

Mark’s dimple shows. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll still come visit.”

“I wasn’t worried!” You quickly protest but you don’t bother hiding the huge grin that spreads over your face.

—

“You know,” Donghyuck says, lying with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish on your bed. “I’m worried Mark is going to steal you from me.”

You snort, shoving Donghyuck off your bed. “You’re the one who never visits anymore.”

“You know that’s because my family is always taking me to places I don’t want to go!”

“Yes, yes,” you rub your temples. “Now, will you please stop screaming, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Sorry,” Donghyuck whines, climbing back on your bed, this time pulling you with him. “Go to sleep, babe,” he coos, snuggling into your chest.

Donghyuck ends up falling asleep first, your headache keeping you awake. You think about how you really do spend a lot more time with Mark than Donghyuck. But Mark won’t steal you away from your best friend.

Hanging out with Mark is different than hanging out with Donghyuck, or any of your other friends for that matter. Whenever you’re with Mark, you just feel

different.

You never really feels great, health wise, but two weeks after your last checkup, you’re at an all time low. You haven’t done anything all week but you’re still tired. You’re still only eating Dr. Park approved food but your stomach hurts. You’re sleeping well and haven’t been exposed to any loud noises, not even Donghyuck, but your head hurts.

On top of all that, Mark and Donghyuck both started going back to school, so you don’t have anyone to help cheer you up or distract you either. All in all, you feel sickly and weak and just awful.

You mope around the house, complain to your mom as soon as she gets home and send your two best friends lots of sad texts on a daily basis. Donghyuck usually replies with some nonsense only he understands and Mark doesn’t even reply, which only makes you feel worse.

“Aw, is your boyfriend ignoring you?” Donghyuck teases you whenever you complain about Mark’s silence.

“Shut up,” is always your clever retort.

—

Your moping has risen to a max by Saturday. It’s the weekend, which means Donghyuck and Mark don’t have school but they still can’t visit you because Donghyuck has to go to a family get together at his grandmother’s and Mark is still missing.

By Saturday afternoon, you just want to crawl into a little ball and sob. Why do you only have two friends? Why does your mom work on weekends? Why are you too sick to go to school? Why are you so desperate for human interaction that you want to go to school?

So many questions and no answers.

Frustrated to the point of insanity, you yell, “Shut the fuck up, will you?” At your phone when it starts ringing. You think about chucking it out your bedroom window until you see who’s calling.

Mark •̀ᴗ•́

You scramble to pick it up, almost actually throwing it out the window in the process.

“Mark!” You yell. “Where were you?”

Mark laughs, “Missed me?”

“You wish,” you spit, it’s not like Mark can see you’re smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

“Are you free right now?”

“No, I'm very expensive.”

“That sounds like something Donghyuck would say,” Mark groans. “Just answer the question, will you?”

“Yes, I'm free. Why? Are you coming over?” You’re already excited. So much so that even your headache goes away.

“Yeah, and I'm taking you out so put on some decent clothes. No pajamas.”

“Out?” You inquire. “Out where?”

“It’s a secret. See you in ten,” Mark says before hanging up.

Your mind is a complete mess but you somehow manage to make yourself look presentable by the time Mark rings the doorbell.

Mark doesn’t even give you time to say hi, pulling you out the door as soon as you open it. “Lock it, fast. We have somewhere to be!” He says, jumping up and down.

“Calm down,” you laugh, closing the door. “So, where are we headed?” You ask once you’ve checked, and Mark’s double checked, that the door is locked and you can finally leave.

“It’s a surprise,” is all Mark says.

Mark tries to blindfold you but you refuse right away. “People are going to think we’re some kinky couple, Mark,” you hiss, shoving the blindfold Mark handed to you in your pocket.

“But how will you be surprised if we know where we’re going?” Mark frowns.

You sigh,“How about I close my eyes?”

“Okay!” Mark looks satisfied. “But you have to keep them closed the whole two bus rides there, okay? No peeking?”

“Two bus rides?” You nearly shout. Mark nods excitedly and you have no choice but to sigh again and mumble, “Fine.”

Agreeing to keep your eyes closed may not have been a bad idea, you think as Mark helps you off the second bus with a tight grasp on your hand. Mark held your hand the entire time. Even while you both were just sitting still inside the buses.

You kept your promise and didn’t peek, partly because you wanted to be surprised as much as Mark wanted to surprise you, but also because you didn’t want to see the disapproving looks you knew strangers were giving towards you and Mark.

“Okay,” Mark says, after what feels like an hour but was probably just a few minutes of walking. “You can open your eyes now!”

At first you have no idea what you’re looking at. All you see are a bunch of gears and metal rods. Then Mark lifts your head a little bit and you realize you’re standing in front of a ferris wheel. The same ferris wheel you and Mark used to look at every day from the roof.

You’re touched.

“Mark,” you say, prying your eyes away from the wheel and looking at him. You don’t know what to say but Mark saves you from having to come up with anything.

“You’re welcome. Now come on!”

You ride the ferris wheel four times together—even though it actually isn’t all that exciting—just because you want to and you can. You still feels overwhelmed as Mark takes you around to all the food stalls lined under the wheel.

Even as fatigue starts to make you a bit wobbly, you don't want to leave. You’re filled with so many feelings towards Mark you can’t think straight. You look closely at Mark’s face as he’s shoving some corn into his mouth and talking about all the types of barn animals he’s met.

Mark has a really nice face. It’s smooth and clear and houses that wonderful dimple. You just can’t get over how cute that dimple is. You just want to poke it. It’s so tiny and charming and right next to Mark’s lips. Mark’s lips are really nice too. They’re full and pink and, even though his bottom lip has a bit of corn on it at the moment, they’re perfect.

You wonder what it would feel like to kiss his lips. Your head spins a little at the thought. Maybe you should try it. If Mark doesn’t kiss you back, you can just pass it off as a joke.

“Mark,” you say, still staring at his lips.

Wait, why does Mark have four lips all of a sudden? Aren’t people supposed to have two? Or is it one? What’s the average number of lips on a person?

“Are you okay?” You faintly hear Mark ask, his four lips getting closer. If Mark’s lips are so close, why does his voice sound so far away?

You’re about to call Mark’s name again and ask why everything feels so weird but before you can even open your mouth, everything goes dark.

—

The first thing you find out when you wake up is that your tumor is back. It’s regrowing, and at an abnormally fast rate.

After crying for nearly an hour, you call Mark to apologize for fainting on him in the middle of a public space at almost ten o’clock at night, but Mark doesn’t even let you get the words out of your mouth.

“You’re up?” He screams into the phone, making you wince. “Why didn’t anyone call me?”

“Calm down, Drama Queen,” you smile. “I'm calling you now.”

Mark seems to know why you called him because whenever you get close to apologizing, he says, “Don’t you dare,” and changes the subject.

Your first surgery had been scary but the second one is even scarier. You hear Dr. Park telling your mom that your chances of survival have gone down, that it’s a fairly simple surgery but the fact that your cancer cells have started regrowing at an alarmingly fast rate could mean you might not wake up.

Your mom holds your hand the entire night before the surgery, squeezing it so tight, you lose all feeling in it.

Even though they have school, Donghyuck and Mark come to see you before you’re wheeled in. You wish everyone would stop looking at you like you’re about to die. Well, you are about to die but you don’t appreciate the looks.

“Stay with us,” Dr. Park tells you before sticking a needle in your skin.

You blink a few times before you can’t open your eyes anymore and, for the second time that week, everything goes dark.

—

This time when you wake up, the first thing you find out is that the surgery went well, but you’re still very sick. No one needs to tell you for you to know that. You can feel how sick you are when you try to move or speak or even think.

Donghyuck and Mark still visit but they visit a lot less because of school. You’re actually glad your friends can’t visit you often. You don’t want them to see you like this.

Somehow, things start to get even worse after that. Everything hurts. You can barely think, your mind is constantly screaming, your ears are constantly ringing. It hurts to open your eyes, it hurts to breathe. It hurts to be alive.

You lose the ability to eat without the help of a tube, and Mark starts visiting you every day. You know Mark has school but still doesn’t question why he drops by every day. You never have the energy to entertain Mark, so you just stare at the ceiling and listen to Mark quietly play familiar tunes or softly tell you how his day was.

You want to be able to give Mark your full attention, you want to be able to reply to Mark’s questions or laugh at his bad jokes, you want to be able to ask Mark why he still doesn’t go home until late at night. You want to be able to be close to Mark without constantly having your thoughts drift off to how tired you feel and how pathetic you are and how much everything hurts.

You’re tired. You’re tired and you just want this to end.

You look at Mark as he plays with the strings of his guitar on the chair next to your bed. You think about the ferris wheel and how happy Mark made you the day he took you there.

“I wanted to kiss you,” you speak for the first time in days.

Mark immediately stops what he was doing and stares at you, eyes impossibly wide.

“What?” He whispers.

“At the ferris wheel,” you clarify. Your voice is rough and scratchy. It doesn’t sound like your voice at all.

“You wanted to kiss me?” Mark looks stunned.

“Yes. Even though you had corn on your mouth.”

“Why?”

Mark doesn’t see you rolling your eyes. “Because I like you, silly.”

There’s a moment of silence and you’re too tired to even feel embarrassed about your impromptu confession.

But then Mark kisses you.

“What was that for?” You squeak, your voice the loudest it’s been in the past month.

Mark smiles, but it’s not one of his normal smiles. It’s not happy and sweet and there’s no dimple in sight. “I thought you said you wanted to kiss me.”

You sigh, “Mark, you didn’t have to do that just because you feel sorry for me. I know I may look like it but I'm not some charity case.”

“No!” Mark says loudly enough to make your ears start ringing. “I didn’t kiss you because you’re sick, I kissed you because I like you too.”

You're not sure if you believe him but even so, you ask Mark, “Then can you kiss me again?”

And Mark does, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

And for a moment, you don’t feel like you’re dying. You don't feel like you’re sitting on a hospital bed, losing your brain to cancer.

You feel like a normal person kissing the boy you like until neither of you can breathe.

Mark’s lips are soft and warm and sweet. They feel perfect pressed against your cold, dry ones. You think it must not be very pleasant, kissing your weak, dying lips but Mark doesn’t seem to mind, kissing your breath away at any given opportunity. It probably isn’t good for your health, being breathless so often.

But death by kisses sounds like a nice way to go.

—

Your condition is not getting better. Even though your love life is suddenly thriving, your body cannot seem to do the same.

You have conflicting thoughts. You want to feel better and fight for your mother, your friends, your boyfriend, and yourself. But it’s so hard. You just want it to end. You want to give up.

You start sobbing one day. It’s never going to end. You’re never going to feel better. There’s no point in even trying anymore.

Mark holds you and comforts you, or at least tries to, but you’re already hysterical. You hear Taeyong run into the room after you scream, “Just make it stop! Please!”

Mark is holding your hand, and playing with your fingers. He occasionally brings them up to his lips and presses tiny kisses on them.

He’s so handsome and kind and caring. He’s perfect. And he deserves so much better than this.

“Mark,” you whisper so softly you’re not even sure Mark can hear you.

But he does and looks up at you with a soft smile. “Hey, how long have you been up?”

“A while,” you try to smile back. “I’m sorry Mark.”

Mark frowns and you want to scream at him to bring the smile back. “Hey,” he brings your hand back up to his lips. “Please stop apologizing. None of this is your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, smiling slightly when Mark narrows his eyes at you. “It’s just that you deserve someone who can do things with you and for you, someone who doesn’t constantly worry you, someone you can grow old with and have little mini Marks with. Not someone who… could drop dead any second.”

“Stop that!” Mark says sharply, surprising you by how angry he looks. His face softens and he sighs. “You are that person, okay? You are not going to,” he sucks in a breath, “die anytime soon, do you hear me? You are not allowed to come into my life and make me fall in love with you and just leave.”

“Mark,” you start but Mark hushes you. He squeezes your hand and looks straight into your eyes.

“You are going to get through this. We are going to get through this. Just, please don’t give up.”

You don’t tell him you already have.

—

July is coming to an end and you’ve never felt worse. You can’t do anything but try not to scream in pain every waking moment of every day.

You’re lying down with your eyes clenched shut and your mother rubbing your arm. You vaguely register Dr. Park telling her they can do another surgery. She’s saying the same things she said before the last one. “It’s extremely risky but this time, I believe we’ll be able to get rid of it once and for all.”

“Once and for all?” You say through gritted teeth. Your mother yelps, probably because she thought you’d been asleep.

Dr. Park also looks surprised to see that you’re awake. “Uh, yes, but I must tell you, you, this procedure is more high-risk than the other ones we’ve done.” She looks back at your mom, “There’s a higher chance you might not wake up.”

“But if I do,” you look at both your doctor and your mom with pleading eyes. “It will be gone, right?”

“Most likely, but—”

“I know it might come back later but it also might be completely gone, right?”

“Yes,” Dr. Park looks at you with concern.

“Please, mom,” you start begging. “Please, this might just be the end of all this. Please.”

Your mother is reluctant but you keep pleading. You’re determined to make it through this.

Your surgery is scheduled for August 1, which means you’ll probably miss Mark’s birthday. This leaves you in a grumpy mood the entire day.

Before you’re wheeled into the operating room, your mom gives you a tight hug, getting your chest wet with her tears. Donghyuck also hugs you and makes you promise not to die.

You turn to Mark when Donghyuck finally lets go.

“Mark,” you start but Mark stops you.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re going to say, probably ‘I love you’ or something like that, but you’re saying it like it’s goodbye and I don’t want to hear it.”

You smile weakly.

“You can tell me when you come out,” Mark crosses his arms.

“I’ll try to be out in time for your birthday.”

You know the clock is ticking and it’s almost time for you to go in. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you want to do something, just in case things don’t go well.

“Kiss me?��� You ask Mark.

Mark smiles, his tiny dimple still so blinding to you, and then he kisses you. It’s still the best feeling in the world.

You’re smiling when Mark pulls away, whispering, “I’ll be waiting.”

You think about the kiss when a deep voice says, “We’re putting you under now. Stay with us, okay?”

Then everything goes dark.

But this time, everything stays dark.

[beautifulletdownfics]

‘I’m Going To Throw You Off The Bridge’ - A Hina Outtake

Hello! 

This is a scene from the original Someday, Someday (the version I started writing in 2013!) and it hasn’t made the cut for the new edit but Katie mentioned it and I’m a sucker for Hina so here it is for you to read! 

So, enjoy! 

The Canary Wharf bridge over the Themes was lit up with the lights of the city before me. The London Eye glowed neon blue across the river and the green reflection of Westminster and Big Ben shimmered on the surface of the water in my peripheral.

“Why don’t I come here every single night?” Nina asked, spinning around on the balls of her feet a few paces in front of me. Her wide eyes sparkled and the reflection of the lights bounced off the shine of her hair.

I laughed, “You wouldn’t think it was as beautiful if you saw it every night.”

“Well, that’s romantic,” she deadpanned and I immediately wished I could eat my words.

“Don’t misdirect my opinion of scenery with my opinion of people, Nina,” I argued back, “I never said the same applied to people.”

She turned away from me then, taking big, enthusiastic steps towards the middle of the footbridge. She had her phone out in front of her, taking pictures of what she saw. I started doing the same and for a few minutes neither of us spoke.

“Oh, ‘gram that!” Nina said in a silly voice as she snuck up behind me and saw the picture I had just taken.

“Excuse me, what? Was that your hipster voice?” I asked stupidly, chuckling at how ridiculous she sounded, “I’ve got second­ hand embarrassment.”

“Thought I’d try out some of your lingo,” she continued with the voice but stopped moving. Her forearms rested on the metal railing of the bridge and she leaned out over it to look in the water. I stilled and joined her, letting my shoulder lightly brush against hers.

“Well, I wasn’t aware Instagram had it’s own active verb,” I sassed her. “And the hipster community doesn’t appreciate your mocking tone.”

She looked at me with kind eyes, “Oh, look at you with your ‘active verbs’.”

“Yeah, look. A friend of a friend is studying literature or whatever ...” I waved my hands about in front of us.

“Uh, nerd,” Nina tried to sound disgusted.

I slung my arm around her and pulled her until she started walking, “I keep her around for the time being.”

We walked slowly chatting, and laughing, and something in me was calm while I was like this with Nina; learning her. It was easy, and fun, and made me stand up a little straighter. When we got to the base of the Eye, Nina stood quietly with her head craned back just looking straight up the structure.

“Wanna have a ride?” I asked her quietly, trying to see her face as the wispy bits of her hair were blown all over it by the light breeze.

She shook her head against my shoulder, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, “I just want to look.”

“Ah,” I nodded my own head, “I see.”

I didn’t see.

Nina’s eyes were wide and her mouth slightly agape as she continued to just look up at the blue London Eye. Every now and again her eyes would narrow as she followed one of the support cables all the way back to the bank of the river.

Growing impatient, I leaned my mouth down to be just next to her ear, “I just counted to one hundred. How much longer are you going to be looking?”

She jabbed my side and rolled her head so her cheek was resting on my arm and she was looking at my face, “You’re such a child sometimes, Harry. You have zero attention span.”

“I just don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking at,” I defended. “Generally people spend all their time looking on the Eye. Not at it.”

Nina huffed and stepped out from under my arm, throwing her arms up in the air in defeat, “Boys.”

I stood for a second, deciding my next move as Nina moved further away of me in the direction of Big Ben and Westminster.

“I take offence to that!” I yelled after her, running a few steps before grabbing at her waist and lifting her feet off the footpath.

Nina inhaled quickly when I picked her up and she quickly started wriggling against my grip. But she was laughing, so I didn’t let her go.

“I was talking about someone else,” she cackled, pulling at individual fingers of mine to try and get free.

“Lying isn’t going to save you now.”

“I’m not lying!” She squealed quietly, “I’m not. You’re clearly not a boy,” I squeezed her tighter and she let out a hearty belly laugh before finishing her sentence, “You’re a man. You’re twenty­ six, you’re a man.”

I grinned, thanked her and then put her down, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Nina shoved off my chest and laughed again before taking a big step ahead of me, “I mean look at that hairline, you’re practically middle aged.”

“Okay, now I’m going to throw you off the bridge,” I ran up behind her and pulled her by the arm up the stairs onto the bridge.

“No one’s on the other side, come on,” she kept tugging me along when we got to the top. “But there are no pedestrian lights,” I whined pathetically and dragged my feet.

We crossed over easily as there was no late night traffic around, when we got to the other side Nina slowed down and I did too. Westminster was lit up green and the clock face of Big Ben glowed opaque against the building.

“Makes you proud to be English,” I said in the same voice Nina had used to tease me earlier.

“Come on then, give me your phone. Let’s get a picture of you being proud and English,” she held out her hand and I passed her the phone without a second thought.

I stood still and watched as she took a few steps back and held the phone up. When I thought she was going to take the picture, she didn’t.

“Well? Am I smiling yet or what?” I asked.

She held up a finger, “Wait.”

I looked at the building behind me, “What for? It’s not going anywhere!”

Nina looked behind her on the road and then around in front of me, “I’m waiting for a bus to come past.”

“A bus.”

“We want people to be sure the photo is genuine London,” she asserted.

“Where else could it be?” I asked.

She thought for a second, “Vegas? They have minis of all the big things like this, don’t they? That’s what I learned from Despicable Me.”

I was still laughing and was about to argue when she shouted at me that a bus was coming. I took my pose but I was sure I was mid ­laugh in the photo. It turned out well though, and I made her do the same; waiting for one of the iconic London red, double ­decker busses, and then waiting for another one after the first photo I took came out blurry.

Then Nina was standing quietly, leaning on the bridge and looking over Westminster with the same scrutiny she had been looking over the Eye. I came up and leant next to her, showing her my phone screen.

[niall-official]

Hiii! I’ve never done a fic rec before but I read a ton so I figured why not! Please don’t forget to give kudos and comment on fics you enjoy!  Also, I reblog a lot more fics on my fic blog @verylarryfics so please check it out! 

📚 All I Do Is Want You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 (Harry/Louis, 31k) “Lou, if he knew how you felt, he might change how he feels?”

“And that’s the last thing I want!” Louis threw up his hands as he spoke, exasperated as he always was when it came to this particular topic of conversation. “I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something, or that he has to reciprocate my feelings, Zayn. He doesn’t feel that way towards me and I’ve come to terms with that, okay? You need to as well.”

“I would if you actually meant it,” Zayn mumbled in reply, barely ducking in time as Louis lobbed a cushion at him. “You know this isn’t healthy, right? That you can’t just keep fucking him because you’re scared you’re gonna lose him?”

Harry loves his best mate Louis. He especially loves the casual sex they indulge in. Trouble is, Louis’ in love with Harry. Surely it’s destined to end in heartbreak…

📚 Charisma by lululawrence / @lululawrence (Harry/Louis, 5k) Harry was smiling, and maybe blushing a little as well, as he accepted the phone back. “Thank you,” he glanced down at his phone and then said, “Louis.”

Smiling happily at the way Harry had said his name, Louis watched him leave the room. The further away he got, the more confused Louis was. Yes, Harry was gorgeous, but how the hell had he forgotten that Harry was also the man who had caused him to almost have a major accident earlier because of his haphazard driving? How had he allowed Harry to distract him with his charm to the extent that instead of giving the man a lecture, Louis accepted the offer of a date?

Well. Whatever the reason was, Louis wouldn’t forget when Harry called. Louis would give him a piece of his mind then and see if Harry still wanted to go out with him at that point. Because yeah, Louis was not mad enough about his overreaction to Harry, both on the road and at the event tonight, to turn that opportunity for a date down. He wasn’t stupid.

Or the one where Harry feeds on awesomeness (possibly literally). Louis is awesome and also angry. They’re probably going to fall in love

📚 Come to My Window by gettingaphdinlarry / @gettingaphdinmomo (Zayn/Liam, 4k) It had become their joke, ever since Zayn had come out. One of them would do something stupid—burp or trip or slosh their pint of beer—and the other would say, “You could’ve texted me” or “that wasn’t worth texting me?”

When Zayn got a full scholarship to college, he sent Liam a message. Need to talk to you. Call me. When Liam said to text it, Zayn said no.

That’s how it was, and they both knew it. You can text me was for easy things, nothing serious. If it was serious, it got a phone call.

But an hour ago, Liam had texted back.

-Zayn and Liam were best friends for years — and then things changed.

📚 don’t care if you’re too loud by disgruntledkittenface / @disgruntledkittenface (Liam/Nick, 2k) @grimmers did you take inspiration from @liampayne? Is that his workout secret?

📚 Enjoy The Ride by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

📚 (even when I messed it up) There You Are by rosegoldhl / @rosegoldhlfics (Zayn/Liam, 9k) “It’s so cold,” came a deep voice from his right.

Zayn snapped his head towards the source of the melodic sound, his heart wildly rabbiting in his chest. Liam Payne, firefighter.That’s all he knew about the boy with the kind brown eyes and pretty lips, who had moved to the apartment next to Zayn’s a few months back. He had dug that info from the mailbox downstairs– it was a low moment, he could admit that, but he didn’t do anything illegal, just slightly creepy.

“Maybe you ought to wear something then,” Zayn remarked, nodding towards Liam’s bare chest as he let out the smoke he had inhaled.

📚 going live by jaerie / @jaerie (Harry/Louis, 15k) Harry has only done this cam thing a handful of times when another camboy pops in to view his stream and unintentionally stirs things up a bit.

Or Louis and Harry are both camboys for some extra cash and meet each other in an unconventional way

📚 I don’t want a taste (I want it all) by thedaggerrose / @thedaggerrose (Harry/Louis, 3k) What Louis really needed was a fat fucking nap.

What Louis got instead was some hipster-looking wannabe arguing with him over the validity of avocado toast.

Or the AU where Harry tells Louis to go fuck himself, Louis tells Harry to fuck him himself, and Harry follows through.

📚 it started with you and started with me by thearcherballet (Zayn/Liam, 11k) It starts like this: you love a boy more than you love your own music, until he becomes the song your heart sings.

Solo artist Zayn Malik is recording his third album when he finds himself working with a new music producer, the amateur talent Liam Payne. Liam is saddled with the task to prove that Zayn can be the greatest musician of the 21st century. 

Zayn’s musical barriers start melting away as things get heated up in the recording studio.

📚 Life Saver by objectlesson / @horsegirlharry (Harry/Louis, 30k) Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

📚 my favourite colour is you by velvetnoodle / @velvetnoodle (Harry/Louis, 2k) Harry and Louis have been best friends for decades, and practically attached at the hip the entire time. Harry would scoff whenever the people closest to them would question their lack of an actual relationship, because the idea of the two of them being anything more than friends is the most preposterous thing he can think of.

Until, one day, it isn’t.

📚 Of the Earth by angelichl / @angelichl (Harry/Louis, 24k) Harry embarks on a backpacking trip in West Virginia to figure his life out after breaking up with his boyfriend. He meets Louis along the way.

📚 Superhuman Tonight by anonymous for @popularryculture fic fest (Harry/Louis, 23k) A group of young offenders doing community service get struck by lightning during a storm, and begin to develop superpowers.

📚 the little things i’d do to lose you again by larrymaybe22 / @larrymaybe22 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Louis wishes he could erase the look of defeat and regret painted over Harry’s face from his memory.

“I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head, “There’s never been anything wrong about us. You can’t just call the last two and half years wrong.”

Or, the one where being in love isn’t always enough the first time around.

📚 There’s Nothing I Can Do (I Only Wanna Be With You) by chaoticallyyours / @hazzaskilt (Harry/Louis, 6k) Roommates Harry and Louis both consider themselves matchmakers. Louis’ latest crusade is finding the perfect match for Harry, despite the admittedly disastrous results. With just a little bit of help from their friends and a lot of whining, Louis realizes that the best match for Harry might just be the person already sharing his flat.

OR: Louis is a dumb gay who doesn’t realize he’s in love with his best friend. Until he does.

📚 to the brim with fright by hereforlou / @hereforlou (Harry/Louis, 14k) The only reason he’s here is because it’s tradition. And also, Harry said it’d be fun to make Liam wet himself in fear and Louis agreed. It’ll be hilarious. He’s not an insecure new transfer anymore, thank you very much. It took him no more than a week to insert himself into a group, to get invited to his first party, and to start crushing on someone—he’s not what anyone would call socially impaired. He doesn’t need validation.

(Or, the one where Louis’ high and scared and Harry’s…also high and scared.)

📚 two loves have i by wreckingtomlinson / @humhalleloujah (Harry/Louis, 2k) “So, hang on a minute.” Niall puts the pen down. “You’re really trying to tell me that you think two people who look alike moving into the same building around the same time makes more sense than Louis cutting his hair and changing his clothes in the four days since you last saw him?”

~or, Harry is convinced the new guy who’s just moved into his apartment complex is not only hot, but has an equally hot doppelgänger.

📚 What I’ve Been Waiting For by styleandsin / @styleandsin (Harry/Louis, 14k) “Have you checked your twitter mentions lately?” Liam asks, almost hesitantly.

“‘Course not, I’ve been busy relaxing.” Louis gives Liam a smile, “Besides, isn’t that your job?”

“Well, I mean… Kind of, but you should check them.”

Louis sighs, “Fine.”

He picks his phone up from the table and takes a scroll through twitter, finding that apparently the book he was carrying on the way out of the airport was visible enough to see in the pap shots, and now his fans are excited. From about three minutes of scrolling and reading tweets he gathers the following: he and Harry share an overlap in fans, a lot of people are thankful for the book recommendation, some people say they ship him and Harry, whatever that means, oh and Harry Styles has seen the photos.

Or, Louis is famous for his singing. Harry is semi-famous for his writing. They’re both fans of each other.

📚 Whirlwind by sweetums / @darlou (Harry/Louis, 5k) “Noisy boys over at that table there, yes, you two, would you like to share something with us?”

“I was just saying that you’re probably the only person who’s ever literally taken my breath away”

AU inspired by Phoebe and David from Friends.

📚 (you and me are) the difference between real love and the love on TV by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 20k) Some pap photos spread like wildfire across the internet, published frantically on braindead celebrity gossip sites with headlines like “SHAWN MENDES AND NIALL HORAN: MORE THAN FRIENDS?” and poorly written articles full of puns on their song titles. His Twitter mentions are flooded with fans, both excited and distraught, and he clicks away from the trending topics tab as soon as he sees that he and Shawn have their own Twitter Moment. It’s all been thoroughly planned and carefully orchestrated - they all knew this is exactly what would happen - and it’s still fucking disarming as hell.

Or: a coming out story, a fake relationship, a realization of what everybody already knew.

📚 you’re the song stuck in my head (every song that i’ve ever loved) by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 13k) the thing is: niall is sure of shawn.