#trying not to break under the workload of uni

[sweeteastart]

Pretty boy that can't apply lipstick to save his life

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

may i request miguel helping reader to relieve stress after a long day at school? uni's been HELL and i just know miguel would treat me like a princess and pamper my exhausted ass after a 10 hour school day.. tysm in case you do it! 🙏

hii!! as it’s in italics, im taking that as nsfw?? I really hope so bc that’s what I did oops😭 if you did mean sfw, send it in again so I can redo. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

--

word count: 611 // {18+ fem!reader, mdni}

thots below cut

firstly, miguel is just so proud of you for going to university. he knows it's tough, and you often struggle with the workload, but he is just in awe of you for furthering your education. he knows that when you come home exhausted and tense, all you want is a way to relieve said stress. he intends to do that for you in the only way he knows works- the only method with a zero percent fail rate. 

when you get back, miguel is already helping you- taking your bag, removing your coat, helping you take off your shoes. he doesn't want his pretty girl to overexert herself, especially if she's had a strenuous day, so he does things for you- treats you like a princess, his princess.

his towering, intimating height would lead you to the sofa, guiding you with his large hand in yours, kissing the back of it every several moments. he'd stand before you, kissing at your neck as his fingers snake into the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down as his kisses lowered, trailing down your arm as he knelt to the floor. the slow and delicate line would continue down your now exposed thigh, holding you still by the waist as he pulled your trousers off your ankles. 

"hermosa," he'd mumble, taking your hand and guiding you to the couch- making you sit down.

you'd do as he says, and he'd sit on his knees between your spread legs, dragging you by the hips so that you're right at the edge of the sofa, spread nice and wide for him. he would hold under your foot, gripping the heel as he trails kisses up the inside of your leg, brushing over your upper inner thigh before swapping to your other leg. moving slow and teasingly, like he was trying to ease you.

he would lightly kiss at the crease where your cunt meets thigh, not daring to touch it yet. skimming over the edge of your underwear as he mumbles what he wants to do to you, muttering about how perfect you are- how pretty you are.

you're tired and stressed, almost fragile at this point, so he'd be careful with you- not teasing you for too long, not wanting you to break before he's already begun. he doesn't tempt you for too long- just long enough to see a small, needy wet patch form in your underwear. 

you're desperate and whiney, blabbering about how much you need him, how you don't like getting teased- especially right now. so he gives in, giving his girl what she needs.

he'd part your underwear aside, hooking it over your pussy, keeping the fabric in place with his large fingers. he'd mumble a few curses as he darts over your pussy, staring at the way your slick made it glisten, how you'd clamp and tighten around nothing- the way your clit would practically be throbbing, almost begging to be touched. 

he loved to watch you like this, a quivering and needy state, desperate and urgent for him- loves seeing how much a mess he has made of you, without touching even you. 

he'd itch closer, exhaling over your pussy in a way that made you shudder before finally giving you what you want. lavishly licking over your folds and sucking them into his mouth, practically slobbering all over you. making out with your cunt and caressing you with his skilled tongue. 

he wouldn't stop until you're pushing his head away, writhing under him, and even then, he'd struggle to pull away. but miguel couldn't help it. he just loves your sweet, pretty pussy. and his beautiful girl <3

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[ethereal-engene]

Don’t Do That | Sunghoon

pairing: bf!Sunghoon x fem!reader/self-insert

genre: angst, comfort, fluff, non-idol!AU & uni!AU

warnings: self-depreciating thoughts & not proof-read

word count: 1.1k

summary: Sunghoon comforts you when you get too into your head

Honestly sometimes it feels like your day doesn’t really start until you get to your last class which so happens to be calculus. Not to say that your other classes don’t stress you out, but when it comes to comparing the workload calculus wins all.

From the weekly homework, online quizzes, and lab quizzes. It felt like you were running a marathon every week. To a certain extent of each topic, you’d understand a good chunk of it with the occasional running into not understanding something.

However, those little setbacks made you feel so stupid & you couldn’t do anything but berate yourself. God forbid you celebrate what you do but focus on nothing but what you don’t understand.

It was an awful habit you had and despite trying to break that habit, you can’t help it. It’s even worse when you realize what a tiny mistake it is. Thinking to yourself: if you were just a little bit smarter or took your time with solving it, you wouldn’t have gotten it wrong.

To compound that stress, timed (and) test anxiety just crawls up behind you to give you the biggest and longest squeeze ever. Not being able to escape from their hold, you start to crack under pressure and give into their hug.

It doesn’t matter if you tell them to let go, they don’t listen. They’re quite stubborn and refuse to listen to rationality… which is exactly how they got here in the first place. The overthinking and stressing over a weekly lab quiz not so subtly invited those two others. The irrational thoughts received a cue to send them over.

Actually they paid a visit when you took your weekly lab quiz this week. It was an awful experience, to say the least. You were stuck on the first question and kept on trying to resolve it as many times as needed in order to find the right solution. To no avail, you never found it.

It felt embarrassing when too you realized that being focused on getting one question right, left you to finish two other questions that you hadn’t either started or finished. But how could you focus when you couldn’t even get past the first question? It frustrated you the entire time.

The bad thoughts by then already started flowing in. Calling you stupid, idiot, and dumb. Thinking to yourself, if you can’t do this, what will you do on the exam??

The time eventually reached the end of class and all you could think about was how freaking stressful and miserable you did on this. It crushed your spirit and confidence into tiny little pieces. All you wanted to do was figure out how to do it and learn from this so that you never make this mistake again.

Being so in your negative thoughts, you barely heard your boyfriend call your name. He was walking beside you, and when you didn’t respond, he decided to walk in front of you. Maybe in hopes to get your attention and to see what was up. It wasn’t like you to ignore him.

He took a glance at your face wearing a pitiful look and at your phone. Along with your silence filling the space between you two. Sunghoon was able to piece together.

God he hated when you did this. It hurt him to see you be so mean to yourself when you would literally give anyone else encouragement or comfort when they needed it. Who was going to do that for you? The answer is always going to be him.

You won’t ask for it but your face & actions say it all. While you’re still feeling upset about your quiz, you walk into something… that turned out to be someone. Not even looking up, you apologize and try to walk past them.

However, Sunghoon gently grabs a hold of your arm. Making sure to not let you go. Only then do you look up and see your sweet boyfriend. All you want to do is cry in his arms and tell him how bad the test was. But you don’t, instead you just hold his hand.

Sunghoon thought he’d be able to elicit a reaction out of you with that but fails. So he opts for the next best thing, giving you a forehead kiss and making sure you make eye contact. He needs to see that you’re okay, even though he knows you’re not.

When his lips land on your forehead, your eyes and his meet. He can see the light in your eyes dimming. Sunghoon wishes nothing but to make you feel better.

Still no reaction and no response. You guys continue walking to your next class in silence. Finally he can’t take it anymore and says to you, “Stop. Don’t do that.”

Your eyes find him and try to play coy. Tilting your head and raising your eyebrows. You know he probably knows but you don’t want to admit it. “Don’t do what? Hold your hand?” A nervous chuckle leaves your mouth in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“No. You know what I mean. You’re being mean and harsh on yourself again. I’m not saying that you can’t be upset about a grade but baby, you have so many more chances to do better next time. Plus, why don’t you ever give yourself credit for trying the best you could or be glad that you understand some of it? It hurts me that you do this to yourself.”

His eyes lock eyes with yours. A little stare down is happening and he doesn’t intend to lose. Your eyes eventually look back to the ground.

“A bad grade won’t ruin your life… mostly but I know who you are. A smart, kind, lovely, and hard-working woman. Someone who doesn’t give up, usually. You also have been going out of your comfort zone to even ask questions, when I know you normally would just hope someone else asks it too.” Sunghoon gently lifts your head back up to hold your face in his soft hands.

“I’m proud of you always but my love, you have to be gentle with yourself. You’re doing great! Give yourself some grace so that you can ace anything.” Kissing your hand, he releases your face and continues walking with you.

You stop him from walking to give him a cheek kiss and thank him. “You always know what to say, Hoonie. Thank you for always being my voice of reason and encouragement. I appreciate you more than the words I love you can even mean.” Upon hearing that, a smile appears on his face.

“You know I’ve always got you, love.” 

I severely needed this a few weeks ago 😭 actually lowkey last week and the week before. I was so mad and upset at for not doing better, but anyways !! I hope you get to let how you feel about a situation flow through and let it out. And also slowly let it go because it's temporary. May your hard-work and efforts get you where you want to be & I'm cheering you on the sidelines :))

signing off with love,

- ash

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien's Through Thousands of Mirrors event translation (Day 1 -Thursday)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a HEAVY SPOILER for the event that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Through Thousands of Mirrors Event | Day 1 (You're here!) | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | HS/Uni SSR Story: Monochrome Scenery

-

[Tidbits: I don't wanna break the flow so I'll put some information here first 😂. Dr. Lawson is Lucien's post-grad professor. Before, he also appears in UR MQ Distant Similarity. During his post-grad he has three seniors Colt, Elliot, and Caroline.]

-

[Math]

Seeing the particularly puzzled expression on the classmate next to him, Lucien starts to consider whether he should offer some assistance within his capabilities.

For instance, he thinks about telling the classmate that the topic currently being discussed on the blackboard is not from the same chapter as the one in the textbook he's currently reading.

-

[MATH/BIOCHEMISTRY]

After the vending machine devours Lucien's one dollar and twenty-five cents for the third time, and with only three minutes left to get to his next class, he begins to seriously contemplate whether he should try some mysterious repair method—like giving it a good smack or a swift kick.

-

[BIOCHEMISTRY]

Lucien coincidentally runs into Colt by the sports field, just as Colt is about to attend a cricket practice session.

Upon realizing that his senior from the lab is not only managing coursework and a significant project workload but also juggling a 20-hour weekly part-time job and daily school cricket team training, Lucien begins to contemplate whether there is any room for further optimization in his own schedule.

-

[PREVIEW/COMPUTER SCIENCE]

During the brief half-hour period, Lucien typically uses the time to prepare for the upcoming class or visit the library to research and gather information.

In any case, that time should not be spent on arguing and explaining to people, like the enthusiastic campus volunteer in front of him.

"No, thank you. I'm not a high school student attending a summer camp. This is my student ID, and I'm indeed a student here, a graduate student. Yes, I'm not lost, and I need to get to my class. Can you please let me go?"

-

[COMPUTER SCIENCE]

Lucien presses the enter key, intending to ask the teacher if he can leave early once his coursework is done. However, the error message on the screen deters him from that thought. So, he sits back down and begins to examine it again.

But that's okay, he does understand the commonality between computer science and experimental research: it's often hard to know right away if the thing at hand will work, why it's not working, or even why it's even working.

-

[LAB]

Come on, come on, come on. After moving this box, there's another.

And after moving that box, there are three more to go.

The prospects for the future and the shine in one's eyes are often taken away by the God of research in such necessary yet mechanical repetitive work.

-

[LAB]

Lucien goes out to get some water and returns to find a school burger on his desk.

Colt, with dark circles under his eyes, waves at Lucien and saying, "No need to thank me, newcomer. Have some food, we might be staying here today."

Lucien quietly eats the burger, hesitant to tell Colt that he has spent more time in the laboratory than in the dorm.

-

[LAB]

When Dr. Lawson enters the laboratory, what he sees is a scene where his graduate and doctoral students are sleeping and sprawled all over the place.

On the laboratory whiteboard, several words were written in large letters: "Publish immediately! Guaranteed to be published in Nature!!"

Dr. Lawson retrieves small blankets from the cabinet, covering each of these research madmen.

He proceeds to organize the data and take over the finishing work on the project. Of course, when it comes to authorship in the paper, not a single one of these kids' names can be left out.

[viaetor]

exhaustion

im sorry for throwing this here in the first place. I generally don't post vents on tumblr dot com, but I've been under so much stress lately and I just. don't have anywhere I can dump things yknow?? i don't wanna feel like a burden to my friends or as if its their responsibility.

but I've been so, so exhausted lately. but it's so hard to just *stop* or *take a break*.

currently, im working 3 part-time jobs, participating in 4 uni projects, writing my thesis, finishing up my government-funded research, completing translations, on top of having my regular classes. not to mention more work and projects ive been "invited" to accept that are still starting up and my upcoming mandatory internship. my parents have been entrusting me with more and more responsibilities regarding their physical health as seniors. but i also need to keep an eye out so that my drug addict sister doesn't do anything stupid and gets thrown out of the house again. I'm also worried about another sister of mine.

Lately i tried to distract myself by involving myself more with my friends. I've helped a few friends out with their own stuff (moving, writing, job interviews, emotional support) and ive been reconnecting with long past friendships, which is pretty neat. and it was working for a while, but im starting to get drained from even the simplest interactions.

now every time I look at my phone or get out of my room, people are calling me to ask to do stuff for them. I'm so numb to it all, I just do it automatically even when my body is sore and my brain is dead.

the worst part is that I can't quit anything. there are no vacations waiting for me, and no way I can lessen my workload more than I already have. I'm numb to it all, it's exhausting, but I feel so ashamed for even feeling tired. I feel like I have no right to feel that. I'm so used to being "reliable" and "efficient" to others that I'm not sure if I know how to Not be what people expect of me.

Ive been trying not to smoke or stress-eat and instead just hit the gym to get rid of the stress and anxiety, but even that hasn't been enough.

I want to write. I want to draw. I wanna learn languages. I wanna study. I wanna chat. But I just don't have the energy to do the things that make me feel happy and healthy. even if I'm ironically already doing some of them. I feel like an ungrateful brat. especially since I'm surrounded by so many awesome people.

I'm really lucky to have you all. I love getting your messages, seeing your posts, writing with you. I'm so happy with how I've been developing bonds with people here. thank you so much for investing in me! i really do cherish and appreciate it. I just want to apologise for seeming so distant and emotionally unavailable, not to mention how long i take to reply sometimes. to those that have been nothing but kind and patient to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope I can make it up to you!

I'm just really, really tired at the moment, and I'm not sure how to juggle through everything in my life right now. so I'm really sorry.

I wish I had dottore's skills so I could make clones of myself ngl. that'd be pretty neat

[libmoopsychblog]

New semester, new me (I hope)...

I've had a lot of time to stare at my wall and re-evaluate the way that I tried to approach my first semester on the MRes course! But now I think it's time to do a bit of self reflection and to form an action plan for semester two so I don't burn out before graduation.

My experience of the first semester was challenging to say the least! Throughout my full life in academia, I've always struggled to stay on top of workloads and to start an assignment earlier than 24 hours before it's due date. At the start of semester one, I told myself that this would be the year for me: I'd convinced myself that a switch would flip in my brain and this year I would turn into the academic weapon that I was born to be. But it just didn't happen... Every submission in semester one was proceeded with a frantic rush up to the last second that was made ten times more stressful because of how much more difficult this work is to any I've had to submit in the past. Take the coding assignment as an example- I still have nightmares about how much my head hurt trying to finish that task on time!!

Whilst I've always been able to (somehow) walk out with good grades doing work in this way, it's just not a sustainable way to submit work at a Master's level. Not just because of the higher standard of work, but I've found 27 grey hairs coming through on my head since last November and I can't afford to dye my hair every week to cover them up. Joking aside, eventhough it makes me feel smart and accomplished to be able to write a 4000 word essay in 15 hours with no prior planning, I'm going to make sure that this is going to be the semester, albeit my final semester, that I become the academic success story that they write books about.

To give myself credit where it's due, I have constantly proven to myself that I can work under pressure. Pressure has always been my main motivator when it comes to submissions- I leave it until the pressure is at its peak to even begin thinking about writing. So at least now that when I get asked if I "deal well in high pressure situations" in a job interview, I know myself I'm not lying. But I have seen the negative consequences of this method on my mental health in the long run. I've constantly been in this cycle where I'll get mad at myself when I submit something because I know it's not my best work and this just can't continue.

When I think deeply about it, I think it is the constant passing grades that have stopped me from ever changing my ways. Why change a system that works, right? But I need to value my own mental health, stress levels and sleep more than I ever have. For me, it goes back to a classic theory I studied in A-Level Sociology- the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy. I have convinced myself that I am somebody who needs a looming deadline and peaked pressure and who cannot work on an assignment in small, manageable chunks so that is exactly the type of person that I have become. So from now, I'll take my whole academic career so far as a learning curve and break the beliefs that I have forced upon myself about the conditions that I need to work in.

So here we are: the all important action plan.

1: Dear Diary...

A diary! I don't know how it has taken me 21 years to come to such a blatantly obvious revelation. But from now, I'm keeping a diary dedicated to all things deadline, planning and uni related. This way I have to hold myself accountable to the plans I've made for myself and can never say I don't know when something is due because it's in the diary.

2: Going to sleep on deadline Eve.

No more all nighters the night before a deadline! I've made a pact with myself that my work has to be submitted early so there is absolutely no work to be done the night before something is due. This way, I can be all tucked up in bed early the night before like a kid on Christmas Eve... bliss.

3: Slow and Steady Wins the Race

A lesson that I should have learned in primary school when they used to read the book about the tortoise and that rabbit. All of my work will be broken up into manageable chunks that I can complete in the weeks leading up until the deadline, rather than it just being done in one go.

So there we have it, a concise three step action plan that'll (hopefully) make semester two an absolute breeze... I'll let you know how that one goes.

[marshmallowprotection]

Saeray's tips for calming down anxiety/feeling low when it's not even active in my mind?

By that I mean like, I'm not even thinking about anything in particular but my body's gone into nausea mode for something I can't even make sense of yet

But then again I'm going back to uni soon which does make me feel anxious, so that's probably it -_-

My body must just be like no, we're gonna make ourselves anxious way before we actually set foot in the place. Essays? Not anywhere near deadlines but already uneasy. Socialisation? I don't even have any friends because I just freeze with anxiety in every situation. Or just like, back away....ugh

I understand that I'm an anxious person but the way my body just reacts, I can't stop feeling like my throat's welling up and feeling like I'm shaking and just so uncomfortable

But Saeran brings such comfort to me

Do you think he'd have any tips on how to calm down nervous, even sickly feelings inside before I like...fully transform into a mess XDD

It's just honestly so awful

I get so hypervigilent and can't relax because my literal nervous system thinks I'm under threat when absolutely nothing is happening

Who is Saeran Choi but a ball of nerves? There are so many things that he stresses out about. There has never been a time in his life when he didn't feel like there was a crushing feeling on his back. It's gotten better in recent months because the workload he's had on his shoulders isn't what it used to be. He isn't working himself into the ground to be able to stay alive. He's able to take things at his own pace and there's no worry about it. He doesn't have to stress himself out. There's still a strong feeling of bumblebees in his stomach but it's not going to consume him.

Living and coping with anxiety can be the hardest thing someone learns how to do. Not everybody is going to be able to cope the same way. What winds up working for him may not be able to help you at all. It's just the unfortunate reality of things. That doesn't mean he won't offer to show you what he does to feel better at the moment. But it does mean he's open and sincere with you when it comes to what may or may not work.

If things don't wind up working, don't beat yourself up. It's going to be okay in the long run. You just have to give yourself some credit where credit is due because it takes a lot of hard work to be able to sort out your feelings. You were there for him when he felt afraid, lost, and concerned. He's going to be there for you as long as you need him to stay.

In every sense of the word, sometimes taking a break can make it better. If you want to feel like the world is working with you instead of against you, you need to be able to see things from a different perspective.

A great way to do this is to watch how you speak about yourself. If you find that it's easy to insult yourself or belittle yourself, you need to change that. You need to learn how to speak about yourself in a positive way. If you can help it, the most important thing to do is to Simply say that you're doing your best. you're not a failure.

You wouldn't believe how much perspective in tone can make a difference in somebody's life.

It all changed once he stopped calling himself an airhead or a bug. Sure, it wasn't perfect. It's not always going to be perfect. even if you put your best foot forward and you try to see the brighter side of things, that doesn't mean that it's instantaneously going to make it all better. This isn't something where things get better overnight.

You have to be willing to wait and work with it. There is no instant fix.

As far as confronting anxiety when it comes to being in a situation that you've never been in before, the only thing that you can do is face it head-on. If you're afraid of something that you've never done before because it feels overwhelming or frightening, the only way to make that go away is to try it. Sometimes in life, you have to rip off the Band-Aid no matter what. It's a price of being alive and well it's annoying in many ways, you have to go with the flow.

There's no way to sugarcoat that. There are ways to get people to come with you if you feel like you need a buddy to make it less frightening, but sometimes you have to face things yourself. If you've been living with anxiety all your life, you might not even notice that it's happening when it happens. It might feel like you're not on edge, but you might actually be on edge. It's hard to turn it off when it's been on all the time. A perpetual state of adrenaline pouring through your veins can make you feel exhausted. 

If you want advice from Saeran, it’s simple. You need to take care of yourself. You need to be gentle with yourself when you're afraid and you need to be stern with yourself when you're avoiding things that need to be done. You can't let fear consume you because then you won't even be living. It's good to be cautious but don't let it hold you back. If he lived in fear forever, he never would have known what it was like to love you. Don't you want to take that chance? 

[ellewords]

Hi Elle! It's been quite awhile since I dropped by. Uni has been so hectic 😩 There are so many writers too who aren't as active now due to uni workload. Well anyhow, I saw you have another written on the margins abt first dates, and I hope youre doing well! Here goes Ushijima on your first date

▪︎Let's be real, awkward as heck, but you see him trying tho 🥺

▪︎Prior to your date, he asks you to dress up✨ (gives you a hint that it'll be prddy fancy 😬)

▪︎Fetches you at your house, and you see him all lookin a little more dashing than the usual 🥵

▪︎When you finally settle in his car, he reaches for the back seat and brings out a beautiful boquet of roses surrounded by carnations 💐

▪︎Gives it to you with a small, nervous smile 😩 but ofc you love it! So you thank him, and see him exhale through his mouth, all relieved and has a soft smile as he starts the car engine and holds the steering wheel. Then he looks back at your blushing face and gives you a reassuring smile

▪︎He brings you to the restaurant of a 4 star hotel because our man's a heck of a spoiler 😌

▪︎You knew you needed to break the ice more since the guy is kimda clueless but still he still would want you to have a good time nevertheless,. So he tries to answer your questions and attempts to ask things about you as well. There's something about his little awkwardness that makes him more charming <3 he tries real good okay 🥺

▪︎You had a great dinner but, even a greater drive home. The both of you were more comfortable in the car, rather in that fancy place. So there were a number of jokes, giggling, soft laughters, and ice breakers.

▪︎He steps at the break pedal and you're now infront of your house, both peeking at your home.

▪︎You look back at him but he was already looking at you. "Thank you so much for tonight, Toshi" you say with a soft genuine smile. "I really had a great time, and these flowers are beautiful. Thank you."

▪︎Still holding your gaze, he responds "Thank you for allowing me to take you out y/n. I had a wonderful night..." His smile grew just a tad bigger "...with a wonderful girl."

▪︎You couldn't hold his gaze anymore and eyes wondering at the ground and other psrts of the car since you got so flustered. You just give him a shy smile, looking at him under you lashes, while he's still looking and admiring your beautiful face.

▪︎He pecks your forehead "Good night, beautiful." 💜

▪︎You gracefully get out of his car, and when you're inside your house, you practically run to your room bec you're basically screaming inside and loosing all your screws 🥴😫😵

-👒

— from elle ! okay you can’t keep making me imagine ushi in those outfits because i will actually scream >_< i just know he would look so so good ugh what do i have to do to get an ushijima in my life ??? literally what ?? because i will actually do it :<< anyways, thoughts + additions ( i’m picking up where you left off for this one ) under the cut as usual :)) tysm for sending this in and i hope you are having a lovely day and uni isn’t treating you too terribly <33

notes : timeskip!ushijima x f!reader, headcanons, pure fluff, wc: ~0.5k

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

okay so while you are screaming into a pillow, dancing around your room, trying to find a vase for the bouquet he gave you, ushijima is freaking out just as much, though not exactly outwardly or directly

like the true gentleman he is, ushijima waits for you to enter your home before actually leaves your street ; baby boy just wants to make sure you get back inside okay

anyways, ushijima doesn’t strike me as the type to go up to a stranger, or someone he’d only just met, and ask them out on a date. no, he has to have liked you for a while now. so him asking you out on that date is the culmination of months of pent up emotions and trying to convince himself that what he felt towards you didn’t go beyond friendship.

which is why he spent the entirety of his drive home with a small smile on his face, replaying the events of the night in his head : the way you looked in that dress, the conversations the two of you had, the way you smiled when he kissed your forehead

for a while, he never really got what the phrase “butterflies in the stomach” could possibly mean. but after your first date, he understood it perfectly ; the way you made him feel like he was floating on air, the way his heart fluttered.

ushijima would be the type to turn his phone off during the date, wanting all of his attention on you alone. so when he finally gets home and turns it on for the first time that night, he’s immediately greeted with tons of text messages.

a lot of which were from the adlers’ groupchat, his teammates asking how his date went. ushijima never really told them directly that he was interested in you, his teammates kind of just knew every time you would come and watch them practice or go to one of their games that you were basically off limits ; hoshiumi tried flirting with you once and oooof—-

anyways, he texts the team back with that same giddy smile he wore on the drive home but now it’s coupled with a light blush on his cheeks as he recounted the general details of the date ; he uses emojis (that isn’t the smiley face or the thumbs up) for the first time and that’s how the team knew his night went well.

even as he prepares for bed, he’s still thinking of you, already preparing on how he’s going to ask for a second date. listen, it would break his heart if this was just a one time thing :(

but luckily for him, it isn’t. you text him just before he goes to sleep, inviting him out on a second date, maybe something more casual or just a nice, quiet night in. a grin spreads across his face, immediately agreeing

needless to say, his dreams that night were the sweetest — all of them filled with you <3

tldr; ushijima date me challenge.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what are the hq characters like on a first date?  |  written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29 @sakusasimpbot​ @aoirohi @kokogxddess

join my hq taglist here. <3

[luminescencefics]

the light inside

Natasha Reynolds is trying to figure her life out. She’s newly single, behind her deadline for her newest book release, and currently stuck in her best friend’s house while her home office is being renovated.

Harry Styles is just trying to complete this project. He’s in the midst of his own home renovation, but when he steps foot into Natasha’s townhouse, he finds that there’s more to life than just trying to rebuild.

A oneshot about starting over, learning how to cope, blonde haired toddlers, and finding the light that shines inside of you.

written for @majorharry​‘s 20k fic celebration

prompt #27: “your hands are soft,” prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that,” prompt #33: :”I--I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

harry/ofc, 8k

Natasha Reynolds is losing it.

She’s currently sitting in the half-finished nursery of her best friend’s unborn child. It's the only room in Ellory’s home that has some semblance of quiet, and that is exactly what Natasha needs considering she’s about three weeks behind her workload. Her inbox chimes with a notification of a new email, and Natasha sighs, ignoring it as the red number on her laptop screen grows from forty-six to forty-seven. No doubt they’re all from her editor. And, no doubt that if she doesn’t respond in the next hour, her phone will start to ring incessantly.

Natasha’s life never falls out of order. She has always been a woman with a plan, ever since uni, and that mindset has paved a road of success for her that she never thought she would achieve at this early an age.

Right after uni, she drafted about twenty query letters and sent them out to various publishing agencies throughout the Greater London area. She had been penning her mystery novel series her entire last year of university, and with a stroke of luck her first book was being edited and published before Natasha could turn twenty-five.

The first book was a success. It became an even bigger hit overseas, and not long after was her agent proclaiming that she must develop a second book. Three more books and three and a half years later, the Midnight series was finished. It allowed her to travel the world, meet fans of the book, and earn enough money to own property in Mayfair.

But now that her series was complete, her editor and agent were begging for Natasha to release a new book. Natasha wanted to branch away from the mystery genre and come up with a brand new book, one that would not be developed into a four-part series.

And, considering her newly single status, it made sense to venture into romance.

As of lately, Natasha feels like she has bitten off more than she can chew. Sure, she loves writing. And sure, her relationship imploding definitely gave her the push she needed to start writing again. But she’s suddenly at a standstill—battling a difficult case of writer’s block.

On top of all of that, she’s been sequestered at her best friend’s townhouse because her home office was currently under construction. Natasha usually plans for these things, and she definitely would not have decided for her writing space to be completely transformed while she’s trying to reach her deadlines. But her ex-fiancé ended things abruptly and that office was the only space in her home that he had called his, so it only made sense to completely tear it down and start fresh.

If only the timing was appropriate.

Just as Natasha began writing the eighteenth chapter of her unnamed novel, she starts to hear high-pitched giggles get louder and louder down the hallway. She can hear the gentle thud of feet, and not long after is the door to the nursery thrown open.

“Tasha! Come play!” Maude calls from the doorway of the room.

Her hair is in wild curls and her cheeks have a gentle flush to them, no doubt from running away from Ellory and trying to find Natasha’s hiding spot. Yesterday, Natasha was hiding in the guest bathroom to get work done and it only took a few hours before Maude heard the toilet flush and suddenly found her.

Today, it only took an hour and a half.

“Hi Maude,” Natasha says with a small smile.

“Why are you in sissy’s room?” Maude asks, hobbling towards Natasha’s spot on the enormous bean bag chair in the corner of the room.

“Trying to get some work done. Where’s mummy? I thought you guys were supposed to be baking shortbread?” Natasha asks, tearing her eyes away from her computer screen and looking at Maude who has now become eye level due to the bean bag’s relativity to the carpeted floor.

“We did! Come see!” Maude’s sticky hands reach out towards the screen of Natasha’s laptop, and before her fingers can make a mess of it, Natasha slams it down with a gentle click. Maude starts giggling, reaching for Natasha until her forearms are sticky from flour and egg.

Sighing, Natasha follows after the three year old. There’s no way she’ll be getting any more work finished today.

Ellory looks up from the oven when she sees her daughter dragging her best friend into the kitchen. She gives Natasha a look, laced with an apology and a bit of pity. Ellory knows that Natasha is struggling. Her personal life has been shit the entire year, her workload is only increasing, and now her home is in a state of disarray.

“Maude, love, what did I tell you about bothering Auntie Tasha?” Ellory asks, her ivory hands resting on her cocked hip. She’s giving her daughter a pointed glare, but Natasha knows that it’s no use. Maude always finds a way of getting out of trouble.

“Sorry mummy. I just wanted to show Tasha what we made!” Maude says, holding her arms up so she can be placed on her chair by the kitchen island. Natasha just shakes her head a little, wordlessly telling Ellory that it’s okay. She wasn’t really being productive anyways, to be fair. Baking with her best friend and her daughter sounded better anyways.

“Any progress on the book?” Maude asks, pouring Natasha a cup of tea from the still-hot kettle on the stovetop.

Natasha just shrugs before slumping down on the chair next to Maude. “I’m still stuck on chapter eighteen. Diane’s going to ring my neck.”

Natasha’s editor Diane was nothing but a terrifying presence in her professional life. Granted, she was phenomenal at her job, and without her guidance the Midnight series would probably never have become the success it had, but Diane struggled with understanding how Natasha worked.

She knew about the break up. She knew that her life was in shambles. But Diane pushed through all of that. She was a career-woman first, and didn’t believe in distractions. Therefore, she continuously pushed Natasha to write.

Sometimes, Natasha just needed to breathe.

“You’ll get there, Nat. You just need to find some inspiration,” Ellory offered kindly, resting her hand on her baby bump.

Ellory was always ten steps ahead of Natasha. Starting in secondary school back in Hammersmith, Ellory was already thinking about where she wanted to apply for uni. Although they went to different schools, they still kept in touch. And while Natasha was struggling to finish her final exams and finish writing book one of her series, Ellory was falling in love with Isaac and already planning her wedding.

That happened four months after graduation. Isaac was in finance and came from a wealthy family, and not even a year later, Maude was born. Natasha was still living in her tiny flat in the center of the city, far too cramped for her liking. She was in the middle of writing book two, so her royalties from the first installment hadn’t come in yet. Ellory was already planning Maude’s first birthday when she encouraged Natasha to stop being a reclusive author and start dating, and that’s when she met Will.

Will was smart and posh and worked at the same office as Isaac. He was a career-focused, well-mannered, completely tailored gentleman, and for some reason he took a liking to Natasha’s abnormal life. They were the same age but he felt eons ahead of her. His flat was in a luxury building with a doorman, he owned more suits than he did casual clothes, he drank bourbon like her father did, and he never tried to understand why Natasha wanted to become an author.

He never pushed it though, and he never really tried to understand Natasha either. After she meets his family and they announce that their cousins are to be married, things began to change. Will’s family was very traditional, and when they found out that Natasha and Will had been together for two years and were still living in their own separate flats, Will hired a realtor and they started looking at homes in Knightsbridge and Belgravia, and they all felt too regal for Natasha’s taste. One afternoon when she’s visiting Ellory and newborn Maude at their home in Mayfair, Natasha comes across a dated townhouse that was for sale. It had crown molding and exposed brick, a dated fireplace and exposed beams that showed the true character of the place. With book three finished and her bank account expanding, Natasha puts a deposit down and they move in a week later.

Not even a year later, Will proposed. At the time, Natasha thought it was everything. She finally felt ready, and she thought that her and Will would be happy together. But then after that he started getting colder, and their relationship started feeling more rushed than ever before. She couldn’t even remember what she loved about him in the first place, and whenever she would ask him why he wanted to marry her, his response was always, “Because that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Natasha was unhappy. And when they sat down a week after they had already mailed their wedding invitations to their guests, she told him that they shouldn’t get married. She expected Will to put up a fight and beg her to reconsider, but instead he gave out a deep sigh of relief.

A week later he moved out.

And three months after that he was engaged to another woman.

The ringing of the timer rips Natasha out of her thoughts and she laughs quietly when Maude starts jumping up and down in her chair, clapping her sticky hands when Ellory announces that the shortbread is finished.

“Tasha! Will you help us decorate?” Maude asks, grinning up at her mum’s best friend with wide shiny eyes.

“Of course,” Natasha responds, placing her arms under Maude’s armpits and lifting her off the chair and sits her on the granite countertop near the shortbread that’s resting on the cooling rack. Ellory lays out different colored icing, yellows and pinks and blues, and Maude greedily sticks a finger in the pink bowl and brings it up to her mouth when Ellory isn’t looking.

Maude starts to giggle when Natasha raises her eyebrows comically, before copying the three year old and digging a pointer finger into the blue bowl. Maude’s giggles grow louder when Ellory grows suspicious, but Natasha stays quiet, smiling at Maude as if they were sharing a secret.

Midway through icing the shortbread cakes, Natasha’s mobile begins to ring from the island. She groans, knowing that it’s probably Diane asking for an update, but when she gets closer she notices that the number isn’t one she has saved into her contacts, so she brings the phone up to her ear and offers up a quick hello.

“Hi, is this Ms. Reynolds?” a deep voice asks. It’s low and guttural and Natasha instantly recognizes it as the voice of the contractor currently redoing her home office a few streets away.

“Yes, this is she,” she says professionally.

“Right, this is Harry, we’ve spoken a few times before about your renovation. I just thought I’d keep you updated. The desk was delivered later than expected so we’re running a bit behind schedule,” Harry says.

Natasha groans because of course things were running behind schedule. It seemed to be the theme of her life these days.

“Sorry?” the voice asks, and Natasha slaps a hand to her mouth, realizing that her groan came out much louder than expected.

“Nothing. That’s fine, you can stay as late as you can in order to have everything back on schedule. I really would hate to push the completion date any further,” Natasha explains, ignoring the look Ellory gives her from the other side of the kitchen.

“No problem Ms. Reynolds,” Harry responds kindly.

“Thanks for the update,” Natasha says, saying a quick goodbye before ending the call and placing her mobile face down on the countertop.

Things really weren’t going her way.

***

Normally, Natasha leaves Ellory’s house by four o’clock the latest, and by four oh five, her house is void of contractors and construction workers and painters. Ellory offers for Natasha to stay for dinner, but after Maude throws a temper tantrum and Ellory grows increasingly tired from her pregnancy, Natasha decides to just head home. She could avoid the noise of the downstairs office by hiding away in her bedroom on the floor above, and she probably should respond to the growing number of emails in her inbox.

When Natasha arrives at her townhouse, she can already hear the erratic hum of the numerous power tools from inside the office. A large white van with Styles & Co. is parked right outside her front door, with a black pick up truck parked behind her parking spot across the street. Natasha unlocks her front door and is immediately hit with the smell of sawdust.

She closes the door a bit softer than usual so her presence would stay undetected. But while she slips off her flats and discards her jacket in the foyer, she hears the heavy sound of boots come closer and her head snaps up.

In front of her is a tall man with broad shoulders. His brown hair curls over the tips of his ear and stands taller in different areas around his head, most likely from pulling on the strands out of frustration. He has a thin layer of stubble surrounding his mouth and chin, and his green eyes are wide, searching her face the same way she was searching his.

“Ms. Reynolds?” he asks, and his voice has the same timbre as the one she was speaking to on the phone a few hours prior. She cocks her head to the side in surprise, taking in his long jean-clad legs, brown toolbelt, and white henley rolled up at the sleeves, revealing black ink etched onto his tan skin.

“Uh, yeah,” she responds, her mind growing a bit foggy.

He smiles in front of her, revealing a straight set of white teeth. “Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, wiping his hands on the tops of his thighs and extending a long toned forearm.

Natasha is a bit dumbfounded for once, because she figured the Harry she was speaking to on the phone for the past week and a half was someone much older. His deep voice reminded her of her father’s, and she had never come across a contractor so handsome in her entire life.

“Hi,” she responds after she realizes his hand has been extended a bit longer than normal. His eyes stay on hers as they shake once, twice, before her hands retreat back to her sides.

“Your hands are soft,” he says offhandedly, and she’s not entirely sure if he meant to say it outloud. His calloused hands are rough from his work, and when she looks into his eyes with a smile, she can’t see any ounce of regret or embarrassment.

“Thanks,” she says, shouldering her tote bag a little higher on her body.

“We’re almost done for the day, Ms. Reynolds,” Harry explains.

“Natasha’s just fine,” she responds, and she feels even warmer when she hears his Northern accent echo her first name to her.

She likes the way it sounds coming out of his mouth.

“D’ya want to see the progress so far?” Harry offers, hoping she’ll say yes.

Against her plans of retreating in her room to stare blankly at the whiteness of her screen, Natasha nods and follows Harry out of the foyer. The hallway splits in two and he takes a left, bypassing the staircase and entering the back part of the house where Will’s office used to be.

The room is much brighter due to the lighting fixture only having light bulbs without the lampshades. Natasha explained to Harry on the phone that she wanted the room to not be as cold and uninviting, and when he recommended painting the chandelier, she agreed instantly. White tarps were placed over the original hardwood flooring with paint buckets and rollers placed haphazardly around the room. Two other burly men were on the far side of the room near the big bay window, sanding down the large wooden desk and attaching different pieces to the furniture to make it the focal point of the room.

“Wow,” Natasha announces breathlessly, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around with wide eyes. It was such a contrast from what the room was before, and she could feel the weight on her shoulders growing lighter and lighter.

“It’s not nearly finished,” Harry says from behind her. Natasha just shakes her head, realizing that he probably doesn’t understand how much this room transformation actually means to her.

“Oi! ‘Arry! Where’s the cabinet?” One of the voices calls out. He’s older than Harry and has a few wrinkles surrounding his face, but he has kind eyes. His accent makes Natasha smile, and when he looks up he gives her a grin in return.

“Got distracted by the pretty lady, I reckon?” He repeats, and the man to his left cackles. Natasha looks over her shoulder just in time to see the flush creep up Harry’s neck, and she giggles a bit to herself.

“Enough of that, you two. Finish up and I’ll go grab it from the garden,” Harry says, his voice thinning as he retreats towards the back entrance of Natasha’s home where most of the furniture and supplies were situated.

“It looks great, guys. Thank you for your hard work,” Natasha says to the two men, watching as they stop their previous tasks and give her matching grins.

“No problem, lass. Reckon you’ll write another bestseller in this room, aye?” The darker haired man says. His accent is much deeper than the previous man and Harry combined, and Natasha laughs a bit when he mentions her writing.

Before she could respond, Harry is back heaving a large cabinet in front of his chest. Natasha jumps to the side, shocked at how strong he actually is. His long arms were wrapped completely around the piece of furniture, with his large hands fanned out over the doors in order to keep them from opening. He grunts as he places it on the floor in front of the two other men, standing up and wiping his brow with sweat.

Natasha really needed to stop staring.

She coughs to herself, averting her eyes even though she can feel the two other men’s gazes from across the room. She’s sure if she looked over they would have amused looks covering their faces.

“Right. Anybody need water or anything? Tea?” Natasha asks kindly, praying deep down that nobody actually needed anything and she could make herself a brew and hide away in her bedroom for the rest of the evening.

“We’re good lass, thank you,” the older men say, before grabbing a power drill and getting back to work.

“I’m all set, thanks though, Natasha,” Harry says, standing right in front of her. She really wished she didn’t love the way her name sounded leaving his mouth.

“No problem. I’ll leave you boys to it,” she announces, nodding her head before turning on her heel.

Before she enters the kitchen, she chances one last look over her shoulder, and she’s met with bright green eyes and a boyish grin.

She skips making her tea and runs straight upstairs, closing her bedroom door with a loud thud.

***

The next morning, Natasha wakes up much later than expected. After Harry and his crew had left, she went downstairs and made herself a late dinner. After an explosive phone call with Diane, Natasha managed to write two chapters that definitely were not up to her standards. It took her much longer than usual to write, and after a cup of black coffee that she only saves for emergencies only, she couldn’t fall asleep.

She wakes up to the sound of power drills and the smell of paint.

Ellory has called her twice already and texted her enough times to earn an eye roll from Natasha. She knew she was expected over there two hours earlier, but she needed rest. She responds as she’s traipsing down the stairwell in boy shorts, a tank top, and an old flannel button down. Her hair is in a bun and she hasn’t bothered putting her contacts in, and it’s only once she reaches the bottom of the stairs when she realizes that she isn’t wearing a bra.

Harry’s standing before her, green eyes blown wide. Natasha isn’t sure if it’s from her thin tank top and lack of appropriate undergarments, or if he’s just shocked to see her in general.

“Natasha—uh, hi.” He sounds breathless and she just gives him a tired grin, noticing the same two guys from yesterday hauling in different materials from the back garden. The door is open and the chill November air settles into the ground floor, and Natasha crosses her arms over her chest subconsciously.

She hopes Harry doesn’t notice, but she watches his pupils dart down for a millisecond before shooting back up, and her cheeks start to flush.

“Morning Harry,” she replies. “Want some tea? Coffee?”

She starts walking towards the kitchen without waiting for a response. Natasha can hear the heavy clunking of his boots, so she can only assume that he’s taken her up on her offer. He only responds once she’s filled up the kettle and turned the burner on.

“Uh, coffee, black. If you have it,” he asks cautiously. He’s leaning on the doorframe of her open kitchen, unsure if he should step further into the room. Natasha just nods before turning the coffeemaker on, adding grounds to the appropriate compartment and waiting for it to heat up.

She turns around then, resting her tailbone on the lower cabinets of the kitchen. Harry saunters forward, before sitting down on the barstool across from her, resting his arms on the countertop. She waits for him to say something.

“Figured you’d be at work or something,” Harry says after a beat.

“Slept in, I suppose.” Natasha shrugs, pivoting on her heel and grabbing two porcelain mugs from above and placing them on the granite.

“Sorry if we woke you,” Harry says, watching as she pours his coffee before grabbing her tea bag and pouring the hot water from the steaming kettle into her matching mug. He thanks her quietly when she places his mug in front of him.

“Nonsense. I should have been up hours ago,” Natasha responds as she’s steeping her tea.

She watches him idly as he wraps his long fingers around the mug. Without thinking, her eyes drift down to his left hand, second spot in from his pinky finger. It’s bare, and she squints under her glasses to try and see a tan line in the place where a wedding band should be. Maybe he doesn’t wear it while he’s working, she thinks to herself.

Harry of course is watching her, and he doesn’t need to mimic her inquiries in order to make an educated guess that she is in fact single. The foyer is filled with women’s jackets and high heeled boots, and in the two weeks he’s been working on her office, there’s been no trace of a man coming and going.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Just continues to let her stare.

“Will you be here all day?” He asks finally, watching as her brown eyes dart up to his face. She doesn’t seem embarrassed that she’s been caught.

“Probably. The glory of my profession—I can permanently work from home,” she offers with a hint of amusement, and Harry laughs softly to fill the space.

“Well, I’ll make sure we stay out of your hair,” he says, taking a large gulp of his coffee and standing up from the chair.

Natasha just smiles. “Don’t worry about me.”

Harry smiles back. “Cheers for the coffee,” he says, grasping the white mug in his hands and exiting the kitchen before taking a right and following the hallway down into the office.

Natasha goes back upstairs and writes three more chapters. When she checks the time and realizes that it’s a little past noon, she goes downstairs and hears silence. She enters her kitchen and prepares a small salad, and when she finishes to clean her plate, she notices the white mug resting on the drying rack.

She smiles for what feels like the fifteenth time that day.

***

Natasha and Harry have fallen into the habit of having tea and coffee together each morning. She starts staying home to finish her book, ignoring Ellory’s questions on what suddenly has changed for her.

“Inspiration,” Natasha would respond, offering nothing else.

They don’t really talk about much, her and Harry. She tells him about her book and he tells her about his house that he’s almost finished renovating in Chiswick. He tells her that he grew up in Cheshire and she tells him that her family home is about a thirty minute drive away. They don’t talk about the reason why she’s remodeling the office or why Harry is the only thirty-two year old Natasha knows who isn’t engaged or married.

Harry estimates that the remodel should be finished in about a week’s time, and Natasha somehow feels a bit sad about that. At one point she schemes of a way to delay the remodel, to ensure that Harry will be around for a bit longer than seven days. But she knows she’s ridiculous. She knows he probably has way better things to do than hang around her house in Mayfair.

One afternoon after she’s finished writing chapter twenty-nine, she hears a loud bang from the room below her. Immediately she flies down the stairs, takes a sharp right, and enters the office with wide eyes. In front of her, the coffee table that was supposed to be where the seating area would be is in shambles. The glass covering has cracked, and she checks the white tarp for spots of blood.

Rory and Gareth, Harry’s workers, are swearing at each other. They obviously figured that the glass would stay intact from the shipment center they ordered it from, but when they opened the box, they found that it was in twelve different pieces. She notices Harry in the corner, frustratedly pulling at his hair.

“Everyone okay?” Natasha asks, mainly directing the question at Harry. She can sense his annoyance from the other side of the room.

“We’re alrigh’, Natasha. The fuckin’ idiots who packaged the table clearly did a terrible job at it! It’s fuckin’ fallin’ apart!” Rory says loudly, his voice getting louder with each curse that passes his lips.

“It’s fine, I’ll reorder another one. Just please be careful when removing the glass from the house, I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Natasha orders, watching as Rory and Gareth reach into their back pockets to retrieve gloves. They start picking up the glass shards slowly, before placing them into the cardboard box.

Harry just watches her, feeling the frustradness leaving his body. She’s very gentle, and watches the guys like a hawk, ensuring that they don’t get injured. Before they’ve finished, Harry announces that they can go and take their lunch break. Rory and Gareth thank him repeatedly, announcing that they need a smoke after the table debacle.

“I made too much stir fry, if you’re hungry,” Natasha says once the boys have driven off to eat their lunch in the park.

“Starved,” Harry replies with a grin. He follows her down the hallway and into the kitchen, admiring her long legs under her leggings. The jumper she’s wearing is big and warm, and his eyes latch onto her right shoulder, watching as the fabric hangs revealing smooth white skin.

Natasha fills up two bowls and they sit at the breakfast nook on the far side of the kitchen near four windows. He watches as she slides her glasses up her forehead, resting them like a headband in her dark hair. He thinks she’s the prettiest girl he’s seen in a long time.

“How’s the book coming along?” He asks after a few bites.

“Surprisingly, not as terrible as I thought. I’m actually right on target to finish it on the deadline,” Natasha replies. And it’s true—she’s gotten more writing done in her busy townhouse than she ever did in Ellory’s home, hiding away from Maude in closets and unused bedrooms.

“That’s great. You didn’t want to wait until your office was finished?” Harry asks, and Natasha can almost feel the follow up question coming.

“Didn’t want to fall behind schedule,” she replies quietly, waiting for him to just say it.

“Why did you decide to do a full renovation right before your deadline, then?”

And there it is.

It’s not like she still cares for Will. Because those feelings for him have been left in the past. Although it took her a little while to fix her messy heart, the sudden news of his brand new proposal practically catapulted Natasha into officially feeling nothing for him. But, whenever she tells the story to somebody, she’s always hit with a pitiful look. Everyone always tells her the same things: I’m so sorry, and, I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel, and, you’ll find someone much better than him.

She didn’t want Harry to look at her that way. She didn’t want to hear her name fall from his lips at the end of one of those sentences.

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Natasha says, deflecting.

Harry pauses, knowing.

“Didn’t mean to overstep,” Harry says, holding up his hands in surrender.

Natasha just shakes her head, takes another bite, and racks her brain for anything else to say to take the attention away from herself and her failing relationship.

“So, what about you? Where are you hiding the ring?” She asks, noticing the way Harry practically chokes on his chicken and rice.

“Sorry?” He’s completely confused.

“Your wedding ring. I assumed you didn’t work with it, which is smart, because it’ll practically get ruined with all the hammering and sawing you do. Plus, you’re always on the phone in hushed conversations, and Rory and Gareth are always talking about the pretty girl you never shut up about, so I assumed…” Natasha’s voice trails off as she notices the pained look fall across Harry’s face.

For the first time in a long time, she’s said too much.

“Why do you assume I’m married?” Is what Harry chooses to ask her.

She’s grown quiet, unsure of how to respond. “Well, you’re in your thirties. And you’ve recently renovated a home in Chiswick. Most people who live in Chiswick plan on having children to fill those rooms up.” Natasha suddenly starts wondering if her logic is flawed.

The pained expression on his face grows bigger, and she watches as he gently places his fork against the glass bowl, seemingly finished with his lunch.

“I was in a relationship. We were together for awhile, and I was planning on surprising her with the house in Chiswick because I was ready for the next step. She wasn’t. She left and I spent a year renovating a house that had three bedrooms next to a school by myself.” He stands up, walking halfway towards the door before turning around and looking at Natasha.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He says, anger radiating off of him.

Natasha isn’t sure how to respond.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Harry says sadly, shaking his head and looking down at the tiled flooring. “You never bothered to ask.”

And with that, he walks out the front door and she can hear the tires of his car skid away.

Natasha spends the rest of the night holed up in her room, typing and retyping chapter thirty. It stays unfinished.

***

Three days goes by and Natasha feels absolutely horrible. She tries to avoid going downstairs as much as she can, because she knows the second she sees Harry’s face she’ll start feeling even worse. She sneaks out the front door when she knows they’re working in the back part of her house. Instead of going to Ellory’s, she walks and walks around London. She ignores her emails, ignores her book, and starts analyzing why she’s so messed up.

It was horrible of her to assume that Harry was married. He’s spent the past few weeks drinking coffee and chatting with her, and he was the closest thing she had to a friend in a long time. All of her other friends were Will’s friends, sans Ellory, so when they broke up and he left, they stopped inviting her around.

Harry was the first person who actually tried to get to know her. And Natasha kept continuously keeping him at arm’s length. She didn’t want him to ask the questions that everybody else asks, but thinking about it all now, she knows that Harry would never look at her the same way the rest of them did.

She was forced into a world she didn’t fit into. She was simply Natasha, a girl who loves to write, can sometimes forget to make her bed, and always puts too much sugar in her tea. She ignores her scary editor and she can only make stir fry and scrambled eggs, and she spent the last few years of her life feeling vastly insignificant compared to Will and his elitist friends. She shouldn’t have made assumptions about Harry, because that’s what people have been doing about her for the better part of her twenties.

There’s a reason why her writing increased tenfold when things were going well with Harry. He was kind and beautiful and inspired her, and now that things are shit, her writing has been horrible. She’s having trouble connecting words into sentences and she knows that’s because she needs to set things straight with Harry.

When she gets to her front door, she doesn’t even stop to pull it shut completely. She’s on a mission, her legs dragging her down the hallway before she can even peel her trainers off her feet. She enters the room without saying hello to Rory and Gareth—instead she eyes the curly headed boy in the corner, leveling shelves before she calls out his name.

She watches his body turn rigid. Rory and Gareth look between the two of them as if they know too much. They try and get back to work, but Natasha can feel their eyes on her. Harry lowers the leveler and looks at her with a blank look on his face.

“Can I talk to you, please?” She asks, and she’s pretty sure he only agrees because he can hear the desperation in her voice.

He follows her out into the back garden, past the tools and materials and into the verandah. Most of the time she sits here with a book and a warm mug of tea and forgets about the world for awhile. But now, she’s hyper aware of Harry’s eyes on her frame, and suddenly she feels much smaller than usual.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, brown eyes meeting green.

“Natasha—”

“No let me finish.” Harry’s lips shut tight and he nods slowly, watching Natasha take a deep breath in and out.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. The reason I asked you to renovate my office was because it used to be my fiancé’s. It didn’t work out, it was all too much, and then a few months later he was engaged to someone else.” She pauses, waiting for the look of pity, the awkward apology, the acknowledgement of her sadness.

Instead, his eyes are focused on hers. And she continues.

“I wasted too much time with him. He made me out to be this person I wasn’t, and whenever I was with him, I felt inferior. It felt like I had to dim my shine so he could glow the brightest for the both of us. I was so stupid, ya know?”

Harry doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t expect him to.

“I chose this house. Our agreement was that he got the office. But when he left, it took me a while to figure myself out. And then when I heard he was getting married, I changed everything back to the way I wanted. I got new linens. I bought new mugs. The last thing was the office.” Her eyes are downcast, staring at her Nike’s. She knows that Harry probably wasn’t expecting her to unload all of this on her, but she needed to do it.

Suddenly, she sees the toes of his leather work boots touching her black trainers. Her eyes shoot up and Harry is standing right in front of her, closer than ever before, and he’s looking at her so intensely and she feels warm all over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says so softly that Natasha has to lean in to hear him.

“I, uh—you’re welcome. I should’ve told you that a few days ago, to be fair,” Natasha replies, her cheeks feeling flushed.

Before he can say another word, or possibly step a few inches closer so their lips are touching, Gareth calls out Harry’s name and she can almost hear the whine lodged in his throat. He looks as if he doesn’t want to leave, as if he’s anchored down to the flooring of the verandah, but Gareth calls out again and Natasha just tells him that he should go, and their warm bubble is suddenly popped.

That night, Natasha writes three more chapters and has the best sleep of her life.

***

Before Natasha can even comprehend, it’s the last day of the remodel. When she wakes up, Harry is waiting for her by the foyer like usual. She makes him his black coffee and she drinks her tea, and just before they part ways until the afternoon for lunch, Harry asks her if she could step out for the day until they were completely finished.

“Are you hiding something from me?” Natasha asks, cocking her head to the side and trying to persuade Harry into telling her. She hates surprises, and was never fond of them growing up. So whatever Harry had up his sleeve, she wanted to know.

He just gives her that grin of hers she’s grown to love. “No more questions. I’ll see you at five.” And with that, he places his hand on her lower back and shoves her gently towards the stairs.

“You’re infuriating,” Natasha says, lying through her teeth.

“And no peeking on your way out!” Harry shouts from the back of her house.

Natasha begrudgingly obliges, deciding to spend the rest of her day at Ellory’s house with Maude. For the first time in a while, she goes over without her laptop. Instead, she brings a children’s book for Maude, and the three of them spend the afternoon playing games and running around. When Maude goes down for a nap and it’s just Ellory and Natasha lounging on the sofa, Ellory finally acknowledges her good mood.

“What’s got your spirits so high? Or should I dare say, who?” Natasha just laughs, shaking her head to try and distract from the growing redness creeping up her neck and settling on her cheeks.

“It’s nothing, El. For once, I’m just letting things happen without planning beforehand,” Natasha explains, this time actually believing herself.

“Well, I for one am excited,” Ellory says, grabbing her best friend’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze. No matter what happens in Natasha’s life, she’s always been grateful for Ellory’s love and support. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.

With four creeping up, Natasha starts getting anxious. Maude overheard Ellory and Natasha talking about the renovation, and she can sense her mother’s excitement in the air. She starts begging Natasha to let them come see it with her.

“Of course, Maude. You’re always welcome at my house.” Maude grins and wraps her arms around Natasha’s neck, and just like that, she feels her anxiousness settle.

Ellory wraps Maude up in a trench coat, and the three of them tread over towards Natasha’s townhouse. Natasha keeps clicking the lock screen on to check the time every thirty seconds, and Ellory just stays quiet, eyeing her best friend suspiciously. Maude is positioned between the two, her small hands grasping one of Ellory’s and Natasha’s.

When they reach the front door, Rory and Gareth are settling into the white Styles & Co. van on the street. Natasha walks up to the window, knocks gently, and waits for Rory to push the button to lower it.

“Miss Natasha,” Rory says with a smile. Natasha grins back, and there’s no denying that she’s grown fond of these two men the past two weeks.

“I guess this is it, boys,” she says sadly, watching as Gareth gives her a knowing look.

“I’m sure you’ll see us around, lass.” Natasha just rolls her eyes, because of course they know that she’s grown extra fond of their boss. They have been watching them for weeks now, laughing to themselves and saying more with just looks between the two of them than words ever could.

“Thanks again for everything,” Natasha says sincerely.

Rory just grins, reaching out and giving her forearm a squeeze. Words aren’t needed.

“Auntie Tasha, come on! Let’s go see!” Maude calls out impatiently from the front steps. Ellory is still holding onto her hand, but her eyes are on Natasha with an amused look.

Natasha walks by them and reaches for the door, feeling Maude wrap her tiny arms around her left leg. She grins down at the toddler before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the foyer, discarding her coat and boots at the door.

“Five on the dot,” Natasha hears from down the hallway. She starts to smile immediately, hearing Maude ask Ellory in the background who that voice was. Ellory looks just as confused as her daughter, and suddenly, Harry is in front of them.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a light patterned button down shirt, opened enough so that Natasha can see his thin white tank top underneath. For the first time since knowing him, he’s wearing Chelsea boots instead of his work boots. He looks even more handsome dressed up, and Natasha can’t help but blush when looking at him.

“Who’s this?” Ellory asks, although she can already tell that this is the boy who’s made her best friend unequivocally happy these past few weeks. Harry extends a hand in greeting, and Ellory looks at Natasha with a smirk on her face.

Maude is hiding behind Natasha’s leg, hand still wrapped around her kneecap.

“Maude, do you want to say hello to my friend?” Natasha whispers, watching as Maude’s big blue eyes look up at her, then over to Harry, then back to her.

She nods before walking in front of Natasha. Harry crouches down so he’s eye level with Maude, and Natasha can’t help but feel the swell in her heart.

“Hi there, I’m Harry,” he says, gently sticking his hand out to shake.

Maude wraps two of her hands around one of his, shaking it up and down a few times until she giggles quietly. “Hi Hawwy. I’m Maude.”

“That’s a pretty name. How old are you?” he asks, grinning when her personality starts to shine through in front of him.

“Fwee! Auntie Tasha says I’m the best fwee year old she’s met,” Maude announces, and Natasha grins down as Harry’s green eyes meet hers.

“I’m sure your Auntie Tasha is right.”

Maude begins to babble and Ellory reaches out to grab her hand, shushing her so that Harry can show them the office. He leads the way, and Natasha starts feeling butterflies flutter in the pits of her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s from Harry or the office or both, but she can practically hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Just before the office comes into view, Harry stops short and Natasha almost runs right into his back.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry starts, “but I found some boxes in the storage room and I figured an author should have a library so, I sort of took the liberty of making you your own bookshelf.” He looked bashful, but curiosity was eating her alive, because she knows exactly what boxes Harry’s talking about.

They were the culmination of her favorite books since she was a child. Collecting books was what made her want to write her own, and her tiny flat in the middle of London was filled to the brim with them. But when she moved into the Mayfair house with Will, he only offered her the bookshelf near the kitchen nook that only held about fifteen novels. She had kept the rest stowed away in the storage room, allowing them to fill with dust, unused.

When Natasha steps around Harry and the office comes into light, she’s floored. Her hand shoots up to her mouth in awe, and she can practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

The original brick flooring that Will had covered up in favor of a more traditional hardwood look was finally given the light of day. Surrounding the wooden door on each side was an archway of bookshelves, curving around the door. It had seven shelves on each side with an eighth over top in the middle, each filled to the brim with all of Natasha’s books.

“Harry…” Natasha is not one for stunned silence, so this is a first for her.

Harry looks sheepish as Maude ogles at the sheer amount of books. “Mummy, is this every book in the world?”

“In Natasha’s world, my love,” Ellory responds quietly, watching her best friend in awe.

Natasha walks through the door and the room is lighter than anywhere else in the house. It reminds her of the verandah in the back garden that she’s grown to love, filled with white wood and green plants. The coffee table has new glass, the love seat and matching chairs are tan and pale yellow respectively. Her actual office desk is white and vast and exceptional. Her laptop and desktop are placed up top, with her best selling books framed on the side. A giant blush pink office chair sits on wheels with her favorite bay window behind her.

She’s absolutely floored. Maude being the toddler that she is runs straight into the room, gasping at everything in awe. She tries to climb on the desk chair and Natasha can see Ellory begin to scold her daughter, but all she can think about is Harry.

Harry.

She turns around and he’s right where she’s left him. His bashfulness has grown to sheepish, and with one enormous grin, she runs towards him and engulfs him in the biggest hug she could muster.

He leans back, surprised at the gesture, but then his strong arms snake around her back and settle on her tailbone. Her arms are locked around his neck, and she can feel him bend down and breathe into the crook of her neck.

“I don’t know what to say other than thank you,” she whispers, her lips falling over the swallows tattooed under his collarbone due to their height difference.

“You’re welcome, Natasha.” There’s her name again, falling beautifully past his lips. She removes her hands from his neck and leans back so she can look into his deep green eyes. They’re standing close to each other again, just like they were in the verandah, but this time they both have no desire to let go.

“The bookshelf—I just. It means so much to me. I don’t know how to repay you,” Natasha says breathlessly.

Harry just smiles softly. “You deserve it, Natasha. You don’t have to repay me. I wanted to do this for you.”

Before she could react, Maude suddenly appears below them, her tiny fist tugging at the bottom of Harry’s jeans.

“Do you think you could make me a bookshelf, Hawwy?” Maude asks shyly.

Natasha looks at Ellory, and for the first time in five years she actually feels something. She feels excited, she feels hopeful, she feels as if everything is starting to make sense to her. And Ellory knows this, and she looks at her best friend with the warmest smile she could muster.

Harry is crouched down in front of Maude. “Of course I can. Whatever you want.”

Harry looks up and Natasha is giving her a look that he hasn’t seen before. He can feel Maude giggle excitedly in front of him, her little hands leaning on his thighs, but all he can think about is Natasha and her brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he jokes, standing up and wrapping his arms around her body again.

“I can’t help it, I’m just really happy,” Natasha replies, feeling the light inside of her burn brighter than ever before.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry can feel it too, and together they shine brighter than the sun.

[sleepingrenjun]

nervous | ML

the gorgeous banner was made by the one and only @hyuckiebabie

Genre ♡ angst, badboy!Mark Lee 

Length ♡ 16.9k

Pairing ♡ Mark Lee x reader

Warnings ♡ character death, violence, making out, mild swearing, mild alcohol consumption, kinda mafia, uhh shitty parents? Basically just angsty badboy!Mark, it’s rather tragic I do apologise.

Playlist ♡ nervous playlist

Summary ♡ You find yourself falling deeper and deeper into Mark’s fiery touch despite the dislike you once felt for him. But Mark Lee is dangerous and nefarious despite his gentle desire to love and protect you; the two of you are star-crossed and you will forever be damned into the very pits of hell.

-

Your clothes were beginning to stick to your skin, the rain blurring each and every neon sign into one big mess of colour against the onyx canopy of the sky above the city. The faint sound of cars screeching along distant streets could only just be heard over the music blaring through your earphones. You stumbled ever so slightly against the sudden outcry of wind as you rounded a corner and looked up through your lashes to see the refreshingly familiar street which housed your favourite late night coffee shop. You looked down again in order to give your cloudy eyes a break, eyeing your slightly scuffed, and now very soggy converse as you trudged a little further until you made it to the door of your beloved safe haven.

 You used your right shoulder to help you push the heavy door open, relieved to see that the lights were still on. You pulled your earphones out, shoving them into your tote bag unceremoniously.  

 “Oh hey, y/n,” you looked up to see Donghyuck smiling sleepily at you from his position behind the counter as he raised his golden hand in a small wave.

 “Hi Hyuck,” you threw a lopsided smile in his direction before carefully drying the soles of your shoes on the mat which lay before you.

 “It’s a little late for you, is everything okay?”

 “Yeah, yeah, I just got caught up with uni work, I guess,” you tell him as you take your phone out of your soaking wet hoodie pocket, before tapping on the screen, thus confirming that it was indeed later than you had realised, 10:53pm. He hummed in understanding as he continued to steam-clean the tea cups which sat on the polished granite in front of him.

 Donghyuck studied at the same university as you and so he understood that sometimes the workload would cause you to spend hours on end in the dusty, old university library situated on the top floor of the main building. His major was in English literature, and if he wasn’t in the coffee shop working then he could often be found studying with his nose buried deep in a coffee-stained book with his exhausted round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Donghyuck was lovely, in every sense of the word. His strawberry blonde hair looked gorgeous against his honey-stained skin. He was warm and flamboyant and just, quite simply, alluring. His raspberry-stained lips were soft and full, just as his cheeks were. Donghyuck was the type to wear tight black jeans paired with an eccentric, ill-fitting jumper and a pair of beaten up doc martens, yet he wore it so well.

 You weren’t exactly friends, but you had a sort of routine. You confided in eachother more often than you liked to admit, but only inside the safe environment of his workplace, you didn’t really speak at any other time. Every Thursday, without fail, you would stop by to order a latte from the lonely coffee shop that he worked at. You were studying fine art, which meant you had to spend a lot of time at the university, whether it was using the studios for various workshops, or losing yourself in copious amounts of books in the library in order to help you write extended essay after extended essay. With that said, it was usually between 7 and 8pm when you stopped by to order your coffee on your way home, hence Donghyucks concern.

 “The usual?” he spoke up after a moment of tranquility.

 “Mmm, please,” you hummed in response as you fiddled with the slippery metal of the rings on your fingers while you waited for the coffee you had been looking forward to for several hours prior. You took out your money and left the correct amount by the till and then proceeded to make your way quietly over to your usual round table before flopping down languidly, the table was situated by the window, allowing you to watch the world outside go by peacefully as you tapped your nails along the surface of your phone screen restlessly.

 The coffee shop was warm and cozy, the smell of coffee beans welcoming anyone into the glowing space. Your weekly visits were something that you looked forward to now, although you did sometimes make an appearance at other times, Saturdays, for example. Occasionally you popped in for a cup of tea in the morning and engaged in polite conversation with Taeyong, the owner of the place. Taeyong was delightful, in a different way to Donghyuck, though. He was sharper and had a witty sense of humour to match the bubblegum shade of his hair. He was kind and wise beyond his years and so much more – but you didn’t have the same unspoken understanding with him that you had with Hyuck. Perhaps that’s why you looked forward to Thursdays, Donghyuck understood you without even trying, as did you with him.

 Donghyuck slid the disposable cup onto the table in front of you, snapping you out of your daze.

 “Thanks,” you smiled up at him before you realised that he was, in fact, now sitting opposite you at the table, with a coffee of his own in hand.

 “What’s on your mind, princess?” he asked you with a cheeky smile as he leaned back into the chair before sipping a little of his coffee. You chuckled at the nickname and hummed as you thought of how to reply.

 “I’m just exhausted, Hyuck,” you said as you let your head flop softly onto the rough wooden surface of the table before closing your eyes gently.

“Uni deadlines are exasperating; my parents are driving me mad and I just really need to sleep” you breathed out drowsily as you peered up at the boy through half closed eyes.

 “Yeah, I feel the same. Uni has me really stressed too,” he cupped his steaming coffee with both hands and leaned across the table, “what’s up with your parents, though?” he squinted at you, genuine curiosity adorning his friendly face.

 “Just the usual, you know,” you sighed after taking a long gulp of coffee, not feeling up to explaining everything to him at 11pm on a Thursday. Donghyuck vaguely knew about your relationship with your parents, if you could even call it that, although you liked to avoid bringing your friends into that side of your life; you weren’t proud of it.

 “Care to elaborate, princess?“ Your reply was soon cut off by the sound of the front door opening suddenly and the fierceness of the storm outside immediately filled the peaceful room, the sound of the ‘open’ sign hitting against the wall alerting you to the fact that you were no longer alone in the coffee shop.

 You looked up in surprise and proceeded to try to fix your composure at the realization that the person who had entered the premises was none other than Donghyucks best friend; Mark Lee. The two were polar opposites. While Donghyuck was late nights by a crackling fire and cups of steaming hot chocolate, lazy afternoons spent surrounded by blankets and makeshift pillow-forts and summer evenings spent reading during the golden hour. Mark Lee was everything that Donghyucks general aura protested against – he was burning hot embers and cigarettes, sunrises and motorbikes screeching along empty streets at 4am. Mark Lee was cold yet hotheaded and harsh and a lot to take in. You had only seen him from a distance, picking Donghyuck up from the university on the back of his bike. The two were so different but they were the best of friends and it baffled you.  

 “Hyuck, what the fuck is taking you so long? Let’s go-,” he voiced as he ran his hand through his damp hair and shook his head a little, completely ignoring your presence. He was clearly irked about something, his eyes were dark, black almost, and he was clutching his bike helmet under his arm tightly. Hyuck looked across the room to the vintage clock which was perched just above the coffee machine behind the counter, before muttering a profanity to himself and looking up at you with apologetic eyes.

 “Shit sorry y/n, I completely forgot, I was meant to close up 10 minutes ago,” it was nearing 11:15pm now.

 “Oh yeah, it’s fine, I should probably get back home anyways” you offered in acceptance before tearing your eyes away from the two boys in front of you to look out of the window at the storm you would have to brave once more. Mark cleared his throat as he made eye contact with you for the first time,

 “are you two done now or…?”

 Mark opened the door, a subtle hint that he was leaving and that Donghyuck should hurry up if he wanted to accompany him to wherever the two were off to at this hour. You scoffed as you took in his appearance, his damp, jet black hair was falling into his eyes in soft curls, his tanned skin was wet, and the neon yellow hoodie he wore under his signature leather jacket had darkened by at least two shades from the rain, as had the black skinny jeans which were tightly clinging to his legs.

 “Will you be okay to get home?” Hyuck asked you as he turned off the coffee machine and motioned towards the door with a light tilt of his head. You nodded and replied with a “yeah” as you swiftly picked up your takeaway coffee cup and headed out the door which mark hadn’t managed to hold open for you. Hyuck followed you out after turning the lights off and grabbing his own helmet, locking the doors behind you. You nodded towards Donghyuck, turning away from the boys you clutched your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm as you walked in the direction of your shared apartment.

 “See you, y/n.”

 You turned your head and waved in return at Donghyuck who was smiling at you as he put his jet-black helmet on whilst he leaned on the back of Marks motorcycle. Mark offered you a smirk as he took a long drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the floor and putting out the glowing stick with a swift movement of his foot, his tattered black converse catching your eye. You continued forward in the torrential rain and not a minute later you could hear the revving of the engine as Mark and Donghyuck pulled away and sped past you, Mark deliberately not avoiding the growing pool of floodwater on the street next to you, splashing dirty water at you in the process. “Fucking fantastic,” you groaned in exasperation.

 -

 It was the following Tuesday when you next saw Donghyuck with his best friend in tow. You were packing up your things after a long day in the library, sneezing and sniffling every so often; you had managed to catch a rather bad cold after walking home in the pouring rain last Thursday. You had just turned around after placing your last book in your beaten-up bag when you heard Donghyucks contagious laughter coming from your left, he and Mark were walking towards you and away from a small group of three boys you often saw Hyuck hanging around with between classes, you weren’t sure of their names. Mark was once again holding on tightly to his helmet as he mumbled something to the velvety boy beside him and ran his other hand through his disheveled hair.

 You fished your phone out of your pocket and turned it off airplane mode before stuffing it back into your pocket and looking up, just in time to hear your name being spoken from a few feet away.

 “Hey! y/n!”, Donghyuck exclaimed, looking surprised to see you, “you got home okay then? On Thursday?” he queried, stopping before you, causing Mark to roll his eyes at his friends genuine concern.

 “Yeah thanks, Hyuck. What are you guys doing here?” you chuckled in reply, it wasn’t unusual for you to greet him in the library as you both spent a fair bit of time there, Marks appearance, however, was a little less common.

 He was obviously there to pick Donghyuck up, probably just to take him home or to a party or something; what was unusual was that he didn’t usually come inside. If you ever saw him at the university, he would be leaning against the outside wall, by the doors, often holding a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other. He was a couple of years older than you, only a year older than Donghyuck, and although you knew that he had graduated from the same institution that you attended, you didn’t know what his major was, not that you particularly cared. Your train of thought was interrupted by Donghyucks reply,

 “Oh, Mark just needed to talk to Jaemin about something,” he gestured towards his friend, who was clearly already bored with your conversation.

 Just as you were about to speak, your phone started ringing. You took a deep breath once you saw the caller ID, before picking it up and holding it to your ear.

 “Dad?” you breathed out, his timing could not have been worse. You had a complicated relationship with your parents; your father was controlling to say the least, and it frustrated you to no end.

 “So, you finally decided to pick up the phone then?”, he greeted you harshly. “I’m sorry, I’m in the library, my phone was off,” you offered him an apology, hoping it would suffice. You looked down at your shoes and wrapped your free hand around your waist, turning away from the two boys who were waiting patiently before you, hoping to gain some privacy for what would most likely not be an enjoyable conversation with your father.

 “You’re always sorry, it’s not good enough y/n,” he complained, “anyway, I called because I need to ask a favour from you.” He only ever called you when he needed something, and he certainly wasn’t one for pleasantries, he always found a way to try and make you feel bad about yourself – although you’d grown a sort of immunity to it now that you knew what he was trying to do. You remained silent, signaling for him to go on, “your mother and I are hosting a dinner party tonight” you place your hand on the back of the chair in front of you, “and we expect you to attend, can you be at the hotel for 7pm?”

 Your grip on the chair tightened to the point that your knuckles were beginning to turn white, you looked at your watch and groaned softly so that he wouldn’t hear, it was already 6:47pm. “Dad I don’t think-“ you started, knowing perfectly well that you wouldn’t be there on time – it was nearly a 40 minute walk to your parents’ hotel from the library.

 “Great! See you then, don’t be late!” he cut you off, not allowing you the time to tell him that you wouldn’t make it for 7 before he ended the call. “Jesus Christ,” you exclaimed as you let your iron grip on the chair go, moving the same hand to push your hair out of your face.

 “Is everything okay?” you turned around to see Donghyuck and Mark both staring at you in confusion.

 Your parents frustrated you a lot. They could never be bothered to make time for you but the second they had the opportunity to use you to their advantage, they would milk it. Your father loved to patronize you and put you down while your mother loved to brag about all the wonderful things you were supposedly doing, she loved to make you sound like their perfect child, when really, they were nothing but disappointed in you. They were disappointed in your art major and disappointed that you chose not to intern at your fathers’ company – you wanted as little to do with his illegal activities as possible - so disappointed that they actually felt the need to lie about practically everything you did.

 “Oh, yeah I just-,” you paused, trying to clear your head and come up with a way of fixing the mess you were about to get into, “sorry but I have to go, I have to be somewhere in like 10 minutes and it’s a 40 minute walk so-,” you rushed out, panicking as you grabbed your bag, flung it over your shoulder and proceeded to walk quickly down the hall towards the staircase. You didn’t make it very far however, as Donghyuck managed to grab your wrist and turn you around.

 “Hey, wait!” he exhaled deeply, “do you need a lift? Mark can give you a lift, right?” he suggested, turning to his friend in question.

 Mark looked as horrified as you felt at the thought of being perched on the back of his bike, “yeah, not happening,” he exclaimed, “she doesn’t even have a helmet or anything-” Donghyuck cut him off by thrusting his own helmet into your arms unceremoniously “now she does!” he retorted cheekily, throwing a smug smile in Marks direction.

 “No, Hyuck really-” you started, the idea of being in such close proximity to the stranger not sitting right in your stomach.

 “Donghyuck, what the fuck?” Mark exclaimed in obvious annoyance at the lively boy who had seemingly already made the decision for you both as he sauntered off down the hall, leaving you alone with his best friend.

 -

 Mark didn’t speak to you as you made your way down the stairs side by side. You felt your heartbeat speed up as you walked through the automatic doors and saw the back of his motorcycle come into view. The model was sleek and rather elegant, the matte black of the main body suited Marks nefarious persona perfectly and the egg-yolk yellow accents made it all the more beautifully daunting.

 “Ever ridden a bike before?” Mark exhaled at you, already knowing the answer to his foolish question.

 You shook your head, “I haven’t. But you already knew that”.

 Mark nodded his head in response before putting his helmet on and climbing onto the bike in front of you. You mirrored his actions and secured Donghyucks helmet into place with shaky hands; the jet-black helmet was a little big for you, but you managed to fight against the strap until it was tight enough that you felt somewhat protected. You shuffled into the small space behind Mark and had barely just lifted your feet off the ground when he revved the engine and kicked off, sending you surging forward into his firm back in order to not fall off.

 Mark snickered at your immediate reaction, “you might want to hold on, sweetheart,” he told you in amusement as he turned his head towards you slightly. “I’m gonna need directions,” he announced as he turned back to the road and pulled out of the university car park, the sudden acceleration encouraging you to grab onto his shoulders firmly in an attempt to balance yourself.

 “Yeah, okay. Continue down here for a bit and then take a left just before the gym.” You instructed as you assessed the road before you.

 “Alright,” he responded casually, veering off to the right to overtake a car, causing you to stiffen even more.

 Sitting on the back of Marks bike was rather unnerving, but it was also thrilling and rather freeing. You could feel the wind in your hair and you were able to let yourself go a little. You closed your eyes for a moment and embraced the carelessness you felt bubbling up in your stomach; if your parents ever found out that you’d been on the back of a boys motorbike they would be livid, but in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You leant forward and informed Mark about the next turn he needed to make, to which he responded with an okay and as if sensing your sudden carefree nature, he applied a sudden pump of pressure on the gas and sped up even more. He was trying to scare you, to irritate you, and it was working. The wind in your hair suddenly felt too cold, too loud, and the traffic surrounding you too fast.

 “Mark,” you warned him as you moved your hands from his shoulders to wrap them tightly around his waist. “Hey, slow down!” you shouted in his ear once you realised that he wasn’t letting up.

 “Relax, baby. You’re alright,” he chuckled over his shoulder, sounding completely unbothered.

 You tightened your grip around him and closed your eyes as you tried to calm down, no longer finding the experience enjoyable. You could feel the soft flesh of his toned stomach through his shirt; the vibrations of Marks laughter as he felt your grip tighten and your forehead press softly into his shoulder. He was warm and deadly and you could feel your hot blood rushing through your veins. You breathed him in slowly; his aroma was cigarette smoke and peppermint; his shirt stained with the faint scent of his cologne and cinnamon. You hated to admit it, but Mark Lee smelled heavenly despite being the embodiment of Hades himself, and it was intoxicating.

 “Sweetheart, you need to look so you can direct me,” he said blatantly, you opened your eyes briefly before closing them again with a shake of your head.

“Take the next right and then pull up on the left just before the hotel,” you breathed out.

 Mark was soon slowing to a halt and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. “Thank fuck that’s over” you exclaimed before releasing your grip around the devilish boy in front of you, feeling slightly embarrassed that you’d been holding him so tightly. You swiftly removed your helmet and thrust it into Marks arms with a mumbled thank you before turning on your heel and heading towards the front door of the building. You faintly heard Mark calling your name, but you weren’t really listening as when you reached the door you felt your stomach drop, your dad was waiting for you and he was furious.

 Ten minutes later, you were seated next to your mother and opposite to your father, you were trying to settle the growing pit of nerves in your stomach as you knew you would be confronted by your dad soon enough. Around an hour into the meal, one of your parents’ guests decided to ask your mum about how you were getting on at uni, they were trying to make polite conversation, although your mothers response irked you rather.

 “She’s doing great! She’s loving her classes, aren’t you honey?” she directed at you with a knowing look in her eye. You simply nodded and replied a polite “yes, it’s great.”

 The same guest then went on to ask what it was you were studying, to which your parents simultaneously responded with ‘law’, as if rehearsed, which it most likely was. You knew your parents had never been happy with your decision to study fine art, and you couldn’t say you were surprised to hear that they were lying about your major, but it pissed you off, nevertheless. You clenched a fist underneath the table as they continued to brag about how well you were supposedly doing at law school. The evening continued like that for the next hour; your parents telling their ‘business partners’ about all the achievements you had made and how proud of you they were. Your family was built on a mound of lies.

 You knew that they were careful about what they told you about their business, but you were alert enough to be aware of the fact that the deals they made were not what might be expected of a typical hotel chain. They lied in front of you to try and cover the illegal activity that was going on, and while you weren’t entirely sure what that involved, you had an idea.

 Your parents walked with you to the entrance of the hotel when the dreadful dinner party was over, and you braced yourself for what you knew was coming.

 “You’ll never guess how our y/n arrived here earlier, love.” Your dad gestured to you while speaking to your mum.

 You looked down at your feet and fiddled with the hem of your jumper in anticipation. Your dad was business suits and stainless steel while your mother was sterile surfaces and fake smiles and you hated it, you hated them and the stupid lifestyle they had dragged you into. Nothing about it was real, nothing about it was fair.

 “She arrived on the back of a boy’s motorcycle,” he informed her with disgust evident in the tone of his voice, his facial expression unsettlingly straight. Your mother gasped in horror and you had to hold back from rolling your eyes at her dramatic reaction. “y/n what the hell were you thinking?” she asked you with a raised voice, anger evident.

 “I needed a ride, it’s a forty-minute walk otherwise!” you responded honestly. You weren’t going to let them manipulate you into apologizing to them.

 “Imagine what the guests would have thought if they’d seen you arrive in such a bedraggled way!” she screeched at you, to which you just responded with a shrug; not having the energy to argue with her.

 “You will reply when your mother addresses you, y/n.” Your father seethed through his teeth at you, anger taking over his stout features. You turned away from them in an attempt at getting away from their suffocating presence, talking back to them was not going to get you anywhere. But before you could walk through the now half open door, he grabbed onto your wrist harshly, “if you pull another stunt like this, there will be consequences, y/n, and stay away from that boy, he’s bad news.” He spat the coarse words into your left ear no louder than a whisper.

 You could feel your eyes beginning to water a little, “don’t touch me.” You breathed bitterly before yanking your wrist out of his forceful grip and slamming the glass door behind you.

 You finally let yourself go once you were outside, the tears flowing freely and silently down your cheeks. You were tired, exhausted even, of trying to mask how much their actions hurt you. Nobody at your university had a clue, not your roommate, Lisa, none of your art class acquaintances, not even Donghyuck, who you often found yourself confiding in when things got a bit too much and you found yourself on the verge of a breakdown.

 You were looking forward to getting home, your apartment was cozy and warm and just what you needed after dealing with your exasperating family. Your parents had bought you a 2 bed flat on the top floor of a crumbling apartment building, which you had the pleasure of choosing. After being brought up in a mansion-like house that didn’t even look lived in, you opted for something small and homely so that you weren’t rattling around in it. Two weeks after moving in, it still felt a little empty to you and so you advertised for a roommate – that was when Lisa came into your life. The two of you had your differences but you loved each other, you supposed she was probably your best friend, not that you were one to give people titles. Lisa was away on a two-week trip to Florence with a few of the people from her major, meaning you had the place to yourself; you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

 “Dinner party went well then?”

 You turned around and were met with the sight of Mark leaning against the wall next to the door of the hotel, he was somewhat hidden from view, his dark clothes melting in to the ebony of the sky. He held a cigarette between his lips and a lighter in his left hand, he took a long, slow drag before plucking it from his lips with his free hand and blowing the smoke in your direction.

 You stifled a cough and rolled your eyes at his actions before continuing in the direction of your apartment, “why are you still here, Mark?” you asked him as you lifted a hand to wipe the tears away from your rosy cheeks, curious as to why he’d hung around for you.

“I thought you’d want a ride home,” he shrugged as he caught up with you, lifting the cigarette again and this time leaving it hanging from his pink lips, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

 “The last thing I need is for my parents to see me on the back of your fucking bike, again.”

 Mark chuckled dryly in response, “did your dad give you a hard time?” he cooed, clearly finding your upset state funny. When you didn’t show any signs of amusement, his cheeky smile turned into something more sincere.

 “I heard what they said to you, you know,” he gave you a pitiful look, “I’m sorry that they treat you like that.”

 You raised your eyebrows and bit back a laugh, “cut the crap, Mark.” He looked a little taken-aback by your curt response, giving you a questioning look as he slowed to a stop beside you. “Don’t act like you suddenly care,” you sighed at his obliviousness, turning to face him.

 Mark Lee was not known for his kindness, caring nature. He was known for being cold and troublesome, he was like a snake; constantly shedding his skin and becoming a different version of himself. One minute he was dangerous and sinful and all things devilish and red, yet the next, he was soft like the feathery wings of an angel with kind eyes; and it was impossible to tell which version of himself he would present to you each time you met.

 You looked at him, really looked at him and took in his appearance. His soft dark hair was falling in his eyes with a slight parting in the middle, his sun-kissed skin rich and deep under the soft, golden light of the street lights you were bathing in. Your gaze fell to his cherry-stained lips and to the glowing stick he held between them, soft clouds of smoke occasionally leaving his lips as he exhaled. The heartbreaking truth was that Mark was attractive, you found him attractive and you didn’t know how to stop the way your breath hitched when you looked into his dark eyes. He was looking at you, observing you in the same way you had been observing him, and it was unnerving. His eyes flitted between your own and your lips briefly before he pulled his gaze away from you and towards the now-familiar motorbike which was sat just a few feet away from where you were stood.

 “Come on, let me take you home.”

 You didn’t talk to Mark as he drove you home aside from directing him to your apartment, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. You were exhausted, and you found yourself feeling a little numb as you clutched Marks waist tightly and pressed a cheek into his back as you closed your eyes. You couldn’t find the energy to think about your father seeing you on the back of Marks bike. If he saw you, then so be it. You were utterly sick to your stomach of the way they pried and warped you into what they thought was the perfect child, the child that their fellow businessmen and women would want to hear about. They objectified you and they underestimated you and it royally pissed you off.

 You found yourself almost enjoying the feeling of betraying them, perhaps you’d take it up as a hobby. Perhaps you’d befriend Mark just to get under their skin, you’d undoubtedly relish in that feeling if you were a little more like the boy who you currently had wrapped in your tight embrace. But you weren’t like that, you were good and caring and you had so much love to give yet nobody to give it to. You couldn’t intentionally play someone like that, it wasn’t within your capability, nor was it your true desire. You didn’t want to use Mark, no matter how perfect it would be or how much it would irritate your parents. So, you pushed your delirious thoughts aside and tightened your hold on Mark as if to thank him for not asking too many questions or rubbing in your ill-fated situation. In response you felt a tight squeeze on your left thigh as he reached back to comfort you subtly, and that was all that was needed for you to begin to feel a little better.

 Mark pulled up outside your apartment building after what felt like forever. You heaved your heavy body off the padded seat behind him, your worn shoes scuffing against the edge of the pavement as you did so, causing you to stumble forward briefly before a strong hand gripped at your waist and pulled you back. You turned around at the sudden feeling of Marks arm wrapping around you, only to notice that you were standing a lot closer to the raven-haired boy than you’d anticipated. He had leaned off his bike a little in order to reach you and you now found yourself brushing up against his jean clad thigh.

 “Easy there, princess,” you could feel his hot breath on your cotton-candy stained cheeks and you struggled to appropriately place your gaze. You’d never been this close to him, face to face anyway, and you found it unsurprisingly intimidating. You observed and noticed his perfectly placed eyebrow piercing, the two silver balls gleaming even in the dark of the night. Marks eyes were deep and dark, black almost, a heavenly contrast to his honey-stained skin. They were half lidded and verging on sultry as he blinked and brought his eyes to meet with yours, his tongue briefly darting out to wet his lips before he gently brought the hand which wasn’t wrapped around your waist up to eye level. He hesitated briefly before he lifted his hand and started to unfasten the strap on the helmet you had borrowed from Donghyuck, “here, let me get that-”.

 Your breath caught in your throat as his hand brushed against your soft skin, the rough texture of his calloused hands contradicting your own smooth, milky complexion. You looked into his eyes as they were concentrated on removing the heavy helmet; he looked so innocent like this, so pure and refined. It was almost like the fire inside him had been dampened momentarily and the ice around his heart was beginning to melt, of course that wouldn’t last. You knew that the next time you saw him, it would be like this hadn’t happened. He would go back to smirking at you or blanking you entirely. It would have been a moment of utter serenity if it weren’t for your caged heart beating at ninety to the dozen inside your chest. You were nervous. Mark made you nervous.

 Once he’d lifted the helmet off, he realised he was still holding you and quickly moved his hand from your waist to rub the back of his neck, you became suddenly all too aware of your close proximity and took a small step back, clearing your throat and crossing your arms in the process. He roughly planted said helmet into your arms with an “I’ll see you around” before he kicked off and left you standing by the side of the road, looking a little flustered.

 Needless to say, the second your head hit your pillow that night, you were out like a light.

 -

 You entered the coffee shop two days later, Thursday, at your normal time of 7:15pm. Only this time you had more of a purpose; you, of course, were looking forward to your latte, but you had also brought Donghyucks helmet since Mark had left it with you.

 “Donghyuck!” you greeted the familiar face as you made your way towards his position behind the counter. “Here” you lifted the heavy black helmet onto the counter for him to take. He thanked you as he took it from you and went to put it in the back room.

You took the chance to look around the room, noticing a few familiar faces, mostly students huddled over their laptops or buried in a pile of dog-eared books. You spotted your usual round table and smiled at the site of the empty chair sat by it. You would soon be just like most of the other customers in the coffee shop, head down and engulfed in a heap of Gustav Klimt books, your chosen artist for this semester.

 “Hey, have you seen Mark around?” you were brought out of your thoughts by the return of the radiant boy in front of you, who was now busying himself with making your coffee.

 “Not since Tuesday, why?”

 “I haven’t seen him since then either, he normally drops me off for my shift today, but he didn’t show,” he replied sounding a little concerned for his troublesome friend. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” you hummed in response.

 You thanked Donghyuck with a warm smile as you paid him for your coffee before taking it over to your table and getting your notebook and a couple of books out of your scruffy bag. The next hour went by relatively quickly, you alternated between writing notes and actually annotating the books in front of you; you had a bad habit of defacing books. Whether it was folding pages or actually drawing on the pristine pages, you enjoyed making them look used and a little haggard.

 You had been so engrossed in your work that you hadn’t noticed Mark’s brief appearance in the cozy coffee shop, he was only present for about 30 seconds before Donghyuck excused himself and stepped outside to talk to his friend. You had your head down when you left through the heavy doors, you weren’t listening as they hushed their conversation at the sight of you, and you didn’t notice when Mark, who was sporting a bruised cheek and a bloody lip, cast his gaze over to you from behind his friends’ shoulder.

 You were living in your head as you walked home that evening, thinking up your future, where you wanted to live, and what you wanted to be doing. You’d just decided that you liked the idea of settling in Paris or somewhere similar when you felt the first sign of rain hit your cheek. You cursed to yourself as you pulled your hood up over your head in an attempt to shelter yourself from the inevitable downpour. You were never prepared when it rained, you usually just wore a hoodie and jeans to uni and you had never got into the habit of carrying a jacket or an umbrella around, you should probably change that, though; it rained a lot in your city.

 Not even two minutes after the rain started, you heard the screeching of tires on the wet road as a familiar looking bike skidded to a stop alongside where you were walking.

 “y/n get on!” Mark yelled over the deafening downpour surrounding you, taking his helmet off as you jogged over to him.

 You weren’t sure why you decided to listen to him, especially after he tried to scare you the last time. Perhaps it was because you knew you’d be home in a fraction of the time if he took you, walking would be at least another twenty minutes. Or maybe part of you actually liked the idea; somewhere deep down in the burning embers of your soul, you quite enjoyed the cryptic boys’ presence. He was everything you had stayed away from up until now, and although you would never admit it aloud, you found yourself reveling in the risk of it all.

 You tried to refuse his helmet, saying that he needed it more, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Just put the damn thing on,” he argued, only moving off once you were sat behind him with his helmet sat snugly on your head.

 Your arms curled around him in the same way you had recently become accustomed to. He was soaked through to the bone and cold, so cold, it seemed Mark wasn’t one for dressing according to the weather either. While you were at least wearing a hoodie, he was only wearing a t-shirt, a white one at that. His muscular back suddenly became painstakingly obvious through his soaked shirt and you tried to focus on the road ahead as you rested your chin on his left shoulder.

 Not even 10 minutes later, you had arrived at your apartment building.

 You jumped off the bike as soon as it had stopped moving, keen to get inside and rid yourself of your drenched clothes as soon as possible; a hot shower sounded absolutely wonderful right now. You expressed your thanks and looked up at Mark to return his helmet to him once you’d wrestled to get your wet hair untangled from the strap, only to see that he had his head hung low and turned away from you.

 “Hey, Mark?” he hummed in response, seeming somewhat distracted. “You good?”

 “Huh? Yeah, I should really go-”

 “Why won’t you look at me?” you hesitantly reach across and hear a sharp intake of breath from him when you grip at his jaw, turning his head to face you for the first time that night. Your breathing faltered at the sight of his black and blue cheekbone and your eyes scanned the rest of his face to discover that his lip was also rather swollen and coated with dry blood.

 “Mark…” you whispered as you ghosted your hand over the tender skin, blinking down at him as his hand gripped at your wrist.

 “It’s fine, y/n,” he gritted his teeth, still not looking up at you.

 “Who did this to you?” you thumbed at his puffy lip gently, the question more rhetorical than anything else.  

 You had never seen the boy before you look so worn out. In fact, you weren’t sure if you had ever witnessed someone being hurt like this before. You blinked twice and moved your hand away from him in order to brush your own disheveled hair out of your eyelashes as you realised that the rain was only becoming heavier.

 “Come inside,” you said unexpectedly, surprising both yourself and the bloodied boy sat before you. You tugged at his sleeve, “just let me help you, as a thank you of sorts”.

 “I really shouldn’t, I-,” you didn’t let him finish, you instead found yourself dragging him away from his beloved black and yellow bike and into shelter.

 He followed you up the stairs until you were on the top floor, you had your key in one hand and his bike helmet in the other. He didn’t speak as you walked up the five flights of stairs, the only sounds were your sopping wet shoes squelching each time you took a step and the shaky breathing coming from the pair of you.

 You stepped into your small apartment with Mark in tow, switching on the lights as soon as you were in the door. You placed your stuff down alongside Marks helmet on the long wooden coffee table in your little living room before disappearing into Lisa’s room to find something for Mark to change out of his wet clothes into. When you walked back into the living room, he was still standing there, hands clasped together and rocking back and forth on his toes lightly.

 “Here, I think this stuff should fit you.”

 Lisa sometimes had boys over, usually they were just one-off flings but sometimes they’d come often enough that she had managed to accumulate a growing pile of their clothes. You’d found a pair of loose black shorts and a large light-grey hoodie that looked around Marks size.

 You directed him to the bathroom so he could change, before turning to your own room and stripping off your drenched clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and a loose fitting shirt as quickly as you could. You grabbed some wet cotton wool and a bag of frozen peas to help take down the swelling, you didn’t have a first aid kit in your apartment, so this would have to suffice. You found Mark sitting on your sofa when you returned, his head leaning on one of his hands whilst he texted someone on his phone with the other. He heard your fluffy sock-clad feed padding against the hard wood floor as you neared him, looking up and instantly turning his phone off and placing it next to him once he realised you had reappeared.

 You knelt down in front of him, placing the frozen bag on the floor beside you and turning your attention to the injured boy.

 “Stay still,” you could feel Marks eyes following your every move. You dabbed at his wounded lip, trying to help take the edge off the sting he must be feeling. You steadied yourself by placing your free hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn his attention to you rather than whatever he found so interesting behind you.

 “Where’d you get the clothes from?” he gestured to the hoodie he was now wearing.

 “Oh, they’re from Lisa’s- my roommate’s ex, I think,” he nodded at your reply.

 “Don’t move,” you whispered as you held his head still and wiped away the remainder of the blood. “It’s not like they’d be from my ex, given that I don’t have one. Or a current boyfriend, for that matter.” Your weak attempt at a joke fell flat as you suddenly realised the implications of what you had just said. Your eyes grew wide, “that was stupid, I don’t know why I said that. I just-”

 Your ramblings were cut short when Mark gripped your arm and took the bloody cotton wool from your hand, dropping it to the floor while keeping his half-lidded gaze on you. He moved your hand to hover just above his heart, resting it there. You kept your eyes on his hand as it covered yours, not daring to look up at him for fear that you may crumble. You felt like putty in his hands and all he was doing was touching your hand. Your face flushed as your hands began to tremble subtly.

 “Do you feel that?” you did. You could feel his heart beating rapidly, just as yours was. “Baby?”

 You dragged your eyes up to meet his and nodded delicately as you let yourself tug at his hoodie a bit, trying to cease the nerves rising up from the pit of your stomach to the very tips of your fingers. Mark lowered his head until his forehead was brushing against yours from his elevated position on the sofa. You could smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke coming from his lips, which were now barely three inches from yours.

“What are you-,” he rubbed his nose against yours and murmured a barely-there “shh,” as his eyes fluttered shut.

 Mark pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips and moved his soft grip from your hand to angle your face up towards him, bringing his other hand up to cup your jaw before moving to plant a slow peck on your plump lips. “y/n?” you hummed when he pulled back a couple of inches, keeping your eyes closed. You didn’t want him to stop and you hated yourself for it. You tugged at his hoodie again, hoping he would understand your signal for him to continue. You didn’t have confidence in words, opting to not say anything and instead moving your left hand up further to reach the nape of his neck, pulling him into you.

 The feeling of having another’s lips pressed against yours was unfamiliar and yet, strangely addictive. Your breathing was getting heavier in sync with his as he left long, drawn out kisses on your lips, alternating between your bottom lip and your top. You found the angle was getting a little awkward and so, with the help of Mark, you sat up on your knees, only staying like that for a moment before you found yourself situated on his lap with your legs on either side of him.

He barely paused for breath before capturing your lips again, this time prodding at your entrance with his slick tongue. The sensation was effortless with him, your lips slotting together over and over again with such ease and precision. His tongue massaged against yours as he relocated his calloused hands to rest around your waist, squeezing the soft flesh as your shirt rode up slightly.

 You let out a soft whimper as his cold hands touched your hot skin and you threaded your fingers through the damp locks of hair at the back of his head, your other hand clenching and unclenching, taking fistfuls of his hoodie as you tried to make the feelings in your chest evaporate. The air was hot and sticky, and you gasped into each-others open mouths, you couldn’t get enough of him.

 Kissing Mark Lee made you feel more alive than you had ever thought possible, it was both heavenly and sinful, and he took all your breath away as if it was nothing. He tasted sweet and smoky and he was enthralling for he was the devils incarnate, yet the most celestial being you had ever laid eyes on. You hated him, you wanted to hate him. But he was radiant and god-like and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, for Mark Lee was magnetic and you will forever be drawn to his sacrilegious self.

 You were panting and breathless as you took his lower lip between your teeth and looked into his amorous eyes, but he winced, and you found yourself pulling away from his swollen lips as a coppery taste lathered your tongue. You were flush against him; your immediate proximity making you blush, given the circumstances. “Sorry, I forgot- about your lip I mean,” you stammered out, feeling rather flustered.

 “I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Mark leant forward to press his lips to yours again messily as he dragged his hands along your thighs, he couldn’t seem to sit still.

 “Mark,” you tried to pull away again, you knew he was using this situation as a distraction. He hummed as he ran one hand up your side until he was cupping your jaw, trailing his wet lips down the side of your neck. “Mark, stop.” You said firmly just as he nipped softly at the flesh under your ear, pushing him tenderly by his shoulders until he was far enough that you could look at him properly.

 “Did I do something?”, his panicked eyes searched your own for an answer.

 You sighed, “no,” as you slid off his lap and made yourself comfortable on the sofa next to him. “I just- why?”

 “Why what, baby?”

 “What did you do to deserve this?” you asked him tenderly as you crossed your legs and turned to face him, tracing your fingers from his harsh eyebrow piercing to the soft skin of his cheekbone. Under the soft light of the lamps in your living room his bruises were faint and indistinct, but they were still there. The black and blue painted on his skin somehow looked pretty, it was a deep contrast to his normal warm tone, but it didn’t exactly look bad – just sore.

 “Can we not talk about this, please?” he groaned as he dropped his head into his hands.

 “Just tell me what happened!” You argued, your voice raised a little in exasperation. You didn’t understand why he was so reluctant to talk to you about it. Everyone knew about Marks reputation, he was known for sporting the odd black eye and not holding his tongue when he should. But as you were sat next to him, you realised that you didn’t actually know why.

 “I can’t-“

 “You can, please-”

 “No, you’re staying out of this y/n,” Marks voice was deep and hoarse as he spoke loudly to you, letting you know that his decision was final.

 “Why won’t you talk to me? Doesn’t this mean anything to you?” you breathed out, as you covered your face with your hands in frustration, letting your elbows rest on your knees, you looked up at the boy before you. “Is this an act of pity or something? Did you only come in because you felt sorry for me?”

 “What? No I-,” his phone ringing cut him off before he could speak further. Mark cursed once he saw who was calling him, “I’m sorry, I have to go, I’ll see you around.” He grabbed his stuff from the table before rushing out the door to answer the phone, leaving you alone and bathing in the now strangely silent room to process everything that had just happened.

 -

  “So, tell me about Florence!”

 Lisa was finally home from her time in Italy, and she’d somehow managed to persuade you that catching up over a drink or two was a good idea. You’d never been the type to drink to get drunk, not that you hadn’t been drunk; it just didn’t happen very often. You were more of a coffee lover, that’s where you and Lisa were different. While you would spend your free time slaving over a book with a steaming mug of coffee, she would spend hers sharing secrets with strangers over a bottle of beer.  You supposed your dynamic wasn’t so different to Donghyuck and Mark, like earth versus fire, air versus water; you were somewhat dependent on eachother, the perfect contradiction.

 “It was incredible, the architecture was phenomenal, as was the art and gosh you would’ve loved the culture!” She gushed excitedly after taking a long gulp of her fruity cocktail.

 If you didn’t know her personally, you might have been jealous of Lisa. Upfront, she seemed unmistakably perfect, her hair was thick and shiny, her skin was clear, and she flourished in social settings. But you did know her, well enough to know that her happy exterior wasn’t always genuine and that she too found life to be rather stressful at times, she was just better at relieving that stress than you were; hence her tendency to party and pick up boys every now and then.

 The two of you talked back and forth about her time in Florence and your time without her, although you failed to mention anything involving Mark, the last thing you needed was Lisa breathing down your neck about something that you weren’t entirely sure about yourself. She raved about the museums and galleries she’d visited and made sure to recite each and every individual piece of art that she’d enjoyed; yes, you were jealous. You were jealous of her freedom and you were jealous of her carefree nature, you wished you could be like that. Perhaps if it weren’t for your family, you would be a little more like Lisa. You thought back to a few days prior when you were sitting behind Mark, clinging to him tightly as the two of you rode through the rain; that was the most unburdened you had felt in a long time.

 You were snapped out of your train of thought by Lisa standing up from her seat next to you at the bar, “I’ll be back in a minute,” she signaled to the bathroom before traipsing away from you, leaving you with your thoughts and a half empty glass of vodka and lemonade.  

 As you waited you found yourself casting your gaze around the busy room; the bar seemed to be teeming with students like you, apart from the odd older guy. You spent a lot of your time observing people and their actions, it was almost like a hobby, being a bystander. There were booths filled with youngsters, chanting and laughing and having the time of their lives, there were bar stools filled with friends downing shots and getting plastered, and then there was you. You, who would rather be at home, curled up and watching a movie with a bowl of shitty popcorn. So, when you were approached by a sleazy looking man who seemed to be rather under the influence, you were somewhat bewildered.

 “Two shots for this lovely lady and I!” He hollered to the barman over the blaring music as he gestured roughly towards you. He reeked of alcohol and sweat, a rather nasty combination which could absolutely not be considered attractive.

 “Oh, no I was just leaving-”

 “C’mon, just one drink!” he interrupted you, sending a ratty smile in your direction.

 “No really, I’d rather not” you raised yourself off the tall stool you had been perched on, reaching for your bag as you desperately tried to remove yourself from the situation. This was why you didn’t like going out, you were terrified of exactly what appeared to be happening right now. You felt vulnerable as soon as he appeared next to you, your instincts quickly telling you that the man before you was bad news.

 He grabbed your wrist firmly, making you wince at the abrupt action. “Don’t touch me,” you seethed as you tried to pry away his painful grip on your wrist.

 “You’re a fair handful,” he slurred as he moved closer to you, moving his other hand to clutch around your waist under your shirt, making you feel uneasy. You could feel tears of panic begin to sting at the corner of your eyes as you looked around frantically in exasperation at the fact that nobody seemed to be aware of what was going on. He pressed himself against you and you were struggling to get away from him as you felt him begin to trail his hand to your backside.

 “Get your fucking hands off her,” a familiar voice threatened from beside you, although you couldn’t quite figure out who it belonged to.

 He didn’t comply. You felt sick.

 He was suddenly ripped away from you as a large hand grasped at the neck of his shirt and a swift punch was thrown, and then another two. “I warned you,” your eyes widened at the scene which was playing out before you.

 “Mark, stop!” you shouted as soon as you recognised the dark mop of hair that you were now well-acquainted with. Of course, he didn’t listen to you.

 The drunk man tried to retaliate but was soon rendered defenseless as he took one final hit to the face and staggered backwards with blood dripping down his chin, “sorry man, didn’t realise she was yours,” he laughed as he spat blood onto the floor and disappeared into the crowd.

 You looked away from the man who was swaying away from you and, sure enough, standing before you was Mark Lee in all his grandeur. He was dressed from head to toe in black and his bruised cheek was mostly faded now, barely visible unless you were really looking for it. His knuckles looked red and sore as he splayed his hand out to check for any broken skin.

 Your devilish savior ignored his distasteful comment as he diverted his attention to you, “are you alright?”

 You shook your head, “I just need to get out of here”. You felt claustrophobic, like you couldn’t breathe. And, god, you were itching to shower and scrub off the feeling of that man’s grimy hands on your body.

 You pulled your gaze away from Mark for a second, just long enough to see Lisa walking your way from the bathroom. “Y/n? What’s going on?” she asked as she looked between you and Mark, who was standing so close that you could feel his hot breath on your neck.

 She undoubtedly knew who Mark was, everybody at your university did. He was striking in both appearance and in demeanor, although not always for the right reasons. And so, she would most likely be wondering what someone like him would be doing speaking to someone like you. The two of you were so drastically different; if he was the devil then you were the purest sinner to walk this earth. He was dripping in warning signs, he radiated bad news, yet you found yourself being drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and it would appear that he too found himself unable to shake you from his mind.

 “Nothing, it’s fine.”

 “Why is he here?” she nodded to the boy standing behind you, sending you a look of questioning.

 You heard Mark scoff under his breath as you glanced round to him, trying to think up an excuse to leave the bar that wouldn’t lead to a lengthy conversation with Lisa later.

 “Something came up, I’m sorry. I can’t stay,” you offered her with pleading eyes, praying she would understand your need to leave, even if she didn’t know the reason behind it.

 “Alright, be safe,” she responded with a sigh and a quick hug, and with that, you turned on your heel and walked quickly out the door.

 You could feel Marks presence behind you as you walked along the pavement with your head hung low, your feet dragging and scuffing along the stone as you sifted through the multitude of thoughts that had gathered in your head. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence for a while, you breathed in the cold city air and exhaled heavily through your mouth as you tilted your head to gaze up at the dark sky which was faintly painted with the warm glow of the city lights.

 You could breathe clearly out in the fresh air, the sticky heat of the bar finally cooling on your skin; it wasn’t a particularly nice feeling but it was better than being coated in the sensation of a strangers touch.

 Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your trance-like state, you reached into your pocket and fished it out, stopping dead in your tracks as you read the message on your lit-up screen.

 [dad]

One of my business associates just saw you leaving a bar with that boy, remember what I told you, y/n.

 You rushed to turn around as you looked back along the long stretch of street in search of someone looking at the two of you, but you saw no one. You were nearing the canal just to the west of the city centre and the street lighting was limited, not giving you the best view of the road you’d just walked down. Mark looked at you in confusion as he lifted his hands to rest on your shoulders and looked into your fiery eyes, “is everything okay?”

 You shook your head and shrugged off his hold on you, already beginning to walk again, more hurriedly this time. “You have to leave, Mark,” you told him firmly as you breathed in shakily.

 “What, why?” he questioned as he crept up beside you, easily matching your determined stride.

 “Please just- it’s for your own safety, I can’t be seen with you,” you told him truthfully, knowing that it sounded a little harsh. Your dad was, however, a powerful man, and you didn’t doubt for a second that he would do whatever he deemed necessary to get what he wanted; and if he wanted you to stop seeing Mark, then he would not hesitate to dispose of him in some way. All for his stupid business and riches. All your parents seemed to care about was their reputation, as long as their names, yours included, were untarnished, the company would keep raking in stacks of money and numerous money-making deals. And they would do whatever they had to, get rid of whoever they had to, in order to keep it that way. They’d been like this for as long as you could remember and there was no part of you that would ever be able to challenge your father’s threats. Because that’s what they were; threats. And he meant every word that he said.

 “Y/n, what the hell are you talking about? If this is about the bar or the other night then I’m sorry I-,” he shut up when you turned to face him once more and gripped both his hands in yours, lacing them together intimately. His brows furrowed as he looked down to your interlaced fingers and then back up to your eyes.

 “Please, Mark.”

 “I don’t understand?”

 You sighed up at the dangerous boy before you, trying to think of an appropriate way of telling him that your father probably wanted to kill him just for being near you. “My dad doesn’t – he doesn’t like you”

 “Your dad? I haven’t ever met him, though?” his face twists as he processes the information, struggling to fathom how your father could possibly have an opinion on someone who he’d never even spoken to before.

 “That doesn’t matter, you don’t exactly-,” you paused and chewed at your bottom lip, tilting your head to look at your feet and lowering your voice to a whisper, “- have the best reputation.”

 He squeezed your intertwined hands comfortingly as he sighed, dragging your hands up to rest around his neck gently before circling his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

 Mark wasn’t particularly proud of his not-so-perfect character, he knew that people talked about him, he knew that he didn’t do himself any favours by consistently sporting some form of bruising or blemish and getting himself into fights. But Mark was soft, too. He had a heart of gold when it mattered; he was like the purest form of oxygen in a smoky room, he never failed to show his good side when his loved ones were in need.

 “I’m not all bad, you know, princess” he chuckled soothingly, his breath tickling against your face.  

 Your fingers played with the soft tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want you to get hurt-,” you started, stopping to think quickly. You weren’t sure where these feelings were coming from. You’d barely known Mark until a couple of weeks ago, the two of you having never payed eachother any great amount of attention before, but Donghyuck had introduced him into your life and now you couldn’t seem to shake him from your mind.

 “-because for some reason, I care about whether you get hurt or not,” you laughed breathlessly, rolling your eyes as you looked up to the sky once more, perhaps searching for the answers to all the questions swimming around in your head at the moment.

 “Can I kiss you?”

 You shook your head, chuckling nervously at his question, it was so very Mark. He managed to completely ignore your concern, instead opting to act on his own thoughts. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said?” you said in exasperation, feeling somewhat frustrated.

 “Yes, I have, but I don’t care, y/n. I’m not going to leave, your dad doesn’t scare me, and you make my heart beat far faster than I’d ever care to admit - I know you feel it too. So please, y/n, let me just have this,” he pulled you closer by your waist as he let himself wear his heart on his sleeve momentarily, pleadingly looking into your eyes.

 “He’ll kill you, you know,” you warned faintly.

 “I can take care of myself.”

 “I know I just- I think you’re underestimating this. He’s powerful and he warned me to stay away from you. Hell, you barely even know me, Mark, I’m really not worth this-,” you gasped as you felt one of his large hands squeeze your waist and he used the opportunity to shut you up completely, mumbling a soft “stop talking,” before pressing his lips to yours in one swift motion.

 You stayed like that for a moment, your body flushed against Marks chest as he held you tightly to him, as if he were afraid that you would disappear if he wasn’t too careful. He soon pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed. You admired his dark lashes fluttering against his satin skin and the way his lips were full and wet from your kiss, he was breathtaking. You couldn’t deny your attraction to him, your heart practically begging to be released from its cage whenever he was close to you like this; he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

 “This is dangerous,” you whispered, encouraging him to open his doe eyes as he parted his lips a little in thought.

 “You look so good right now, I just- I can’t,” he stumbled over his words, his voice breaking under your gaze. “God, I like you so much.”

 You would have giggled at how he sounded like a schoolboy if he hadn’t kissed you again, gliding his right hand up your body until he was cupping your velvety skin and pulling you closer still. He kissed you with so much feeling and emotion, you barely recognised him as the boy you had first met anymore. His cold, harsh exterior completely melting away under your gentle touch. He let himself groan as you kissed him back with just as much ardour, letting your tongue gently pry his lips apart as you tried to convey your feelings for him. You let yourself momentarily forget the posing threat from your dad, enjoying Marks successful attempt at distracting you from it.

 His touch was fiery-hot, his hands leaving a burning trail in their wake as he touched you delicately, as though you were a doll who might break if you fell into the wrong hands. He pulled away once more and grasped your hand in his before leading you away from the canal and towards his home.

 -

 Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of a hushed voice nearby, propping yourself up with one hand and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the other. You blinked groggily several times before you managed to keep your eyes open for long enough to sit up with your legs dangling off the side of the unfamiliar mattress, the cool air of the room making your hairs stand on end. You looked down at your cold legs and noticed that you were only wearing an oversized shirt with your underwear – the shirt, you recalled, was Mark’s.

 He’d brought you back home with him last night, you didn’t really feel like going home and explaining the events of the night to Lisa. Your brain was still half asleep and hazy as you tried to recall all that had happened yesterday; you could remember Mark offering to sleep on the sofa, but you also recounted that you’d asked him if he could stay with you, his presence alone helping you feel at-ease. He made sure to keep his distance, to keep to his side of the bed, even if he was itching to reach across the sea of sheets to hold you. He made you feel warm and safe and at-ease and that scared you a little – how quickly he’d earned your trust, if that’s what you could call it.

 You couldn’t make out the muffled voice coming from next door, but you imagined he was probably just on the phone to someone. You stifled a yawn as you reached for your phone, which had been thrown onto the carpeted floor by the mattress in haste before you knocked out fast asleep last night. The time was only just gone 7am, you wondered who Mark could be speaking to this early, a friend possibly? A parent? It was when you thought about things like this that you realised just how little you really knew about him. You knew that he liked living more dangerously than most, that he had an unhealthy love for driving his motorcycle too fast, too late, and too often, you also knew of his friendship with Donghyuck; but after that, you struggled to find anything you could add to the list. You barely knew the boy.

 “Sorry, did I wake you?” he called from the doorway, startling you out of your tired thoughts. You looked up and felt the air leave your lungs as you saw him; he looked ethereal. He was leaning with his left shoulder against the flakily-painted frame, his navy-blue hoodie was too big and his honey-coloured collarbones were only half hidden by the drooping neck of his bed-attire. His boxers were fitted to his thighs and you had to pull your gaze away to stop the inevitable blush that would otherwise creep up your neck. He’d probably already noticed your staring, anyway.

 “Yeah, but it’s okay,” you said groggily as you stretched your arms back to relieve your aching shoulder-blades – you must have slept on them funny.

 You made the effort to stand up but were swiftly turned back around as Mark placed his warm hand on the small of your back and guided you back to the plush mess of bedding and blankets. You lay back down on your side, with your head facing the door and your back to Marks side of the bed. The sheets smelled of him, you realised. A little musky perhaps, like cinnamon and spice. His aroma was warm and comforting as you pulled the duvet up to rest just beneath your chin to try and keep out the chill of the room, your hands clasping together just below the covers. You felt the bed dip as he sunk into the pillows beside you, his breathing was shallow and yet you could somehow still just make it out over the quiet sounds of the city outside waking up.

 “Do you mind if I- can I lay with you?” he asked you, sounding unusually shy, although maybe it was just his lack of sleep.

 “You lay with me last night, Mark” you chuckled.

 “No, I mean-,” he cut himself off, shuffling around behind you until you felt his arm reach around your waist tenderly. His chest was radiating his body heat, just a couple of centimeters from touching yours. “Like this,” he whispered in your ear, softly pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear as he grasped your clasped hands in his blindly.

 “Oh” you replied, barely there. He made your brain go mushy and you were still so tired, having not gone to sleep until late. You wiggled yourself backwards a little, just enough so that you could feel his heartbeat on your clothed back as arm tightened around you. “Let’s just stay like this forever, it’s so nice,” you murmured, letting your eyes fall shut as you basked in Marks warm embrace.

 A few hours later, you find yourself back in your apartment. You’re nestled into the warmth of your sofa with your legs tucked into your chest and a pillow hugged tight to your chest. Lisa was sat next to you, in an equally relaxed position, her fluffy socks tickling at your side faintly.

 “He gave you a ride? Twice? On his bike?” she repeated fragments of what you’d told her back to you. You’d told her more than that, but her eyes grew wide the second you had mentioned Marks name. You nodded in response, “yes?”

 She breathed out heavily, “he’s hot too, do you know what you’re getting into?” she wiggled her eyebrows at you, making you laugh and throw the pillow you were hugging at her. She shrugged, “hey! I’m just saying, the attractive ones always cause the most trouble”.

 You didn’t reply, instead you placed your head in your hands and lulled to the side, looking up at her and sighing like a lovesick puppy. “I really like him, Lisa,” you mumbled, the atmosphere turning more serious, “I just don’t wanna get hurt”.

 “You have to see past that. Live a little, y/n, let yourself loose for a bit,” she told you. You knew that she was probably right, and that she was only encouraging you to do what she knew best. It was easy for Lisa to say that, she was renowned for her extroverted, care-free personality, and you did sometimes envy that. But maybe it was time to take a leaf from her book, you didn’t know what would happen with Mark, you just knew that there was a strong connection between you two that you couldn’t ignore anymore. You couldn’t keep fighting against it. No matter how much you willed yourself to hate him, you never could. He was so much softer than you thought, there was more substance to him.

 He was bright and full and carefree, almost the exact opposite to you. He was a little similar to Lisa, actually, just more devious. More devilish. You could see that his harsh front was beginning to melt around you, though. You seemed to have some kind of effect on him, and he hated that. You loved it. You found yourself wanting to get to know the boy hidden beneath all those layers of toughened-up skin. “Maybe I will,” you replied, with a knowing smile on your face.

 -

 Your lips parted as you panted, out of breath as you pulled back for air, throwing a quick glance to your buzzing phone, signaling yet another call from your father; you ignored it. Marks lips trailed lazily down your neck as he kissed faint flowering bruises into your soft skin, his teeth occasionally nipping and biting at the juncture of your neck. You closed your eyes in bliss and threaded your fingers through his curly, raven hair, tugging at it to signal your enjoyment.

 Your father had been texting you and leaving you voicemail messages frequently over the past week. At first you were concerned for Marks safety, but it seemed that his threats were empty as nothing had come of them yet. And so, you found yourself seated in Marks lap for the third time that week. He let out a low groan as you tugged at his hair once more and shifted slightly in his lap, “stop moving, baby,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly as he squeezed you into his embrace.

 A knock at the door of Marks small, one-bed apartment stilled the pair of you. He lifted his head up to look at you with a cheeky smile, “what?” you looked down at him with wide eyes.

 “You’ll see,” he replied as he placed a soft kiss on your plump lips before picking you up off his lap and placing you down on the warm blanket-covered sofa, you crossed your legs and looked up to him in anticipation.

 He padded over to the front door, just out of your line of sight, you heard him open the door and engage in conversation with the visitor. You glanced around the room and took in your surroundings, observing, as you always did. You’d been in Marks apartment two or three times by now, he seemed to keep it relatively clean, everything seemed to have its place.  You squinted as you noticed a sliver of silver on the bookshelf in the corner of the room, it seemed to be an expensive looking watch, a rolex, perhaps. It looked to be of that sort of style. You wondered briefly how Mark would come by such an expensive watch but didn’t think much of it, perhaps it was a family heirloom?

 Your gaze trailed down as you noticed a hard, black case protruding from its space under the shelf. It didn’t look like a briefcase, in fact it looked to be rather heavy-duty and you wondered what on earth Mark would have one for, you’d only ever seen things like that when people were housing weapons or something similar. You knew this because your father liked to keep cases full of handguns around your house, not that you were supposed to know, you were merely a curious child who went snooping where you shouldn’t have.

 “Hey, so pepperoni or cheese?” you snapped your gaze from the case over to Mark who was just emerging from the hallway to the front door, two greasy pizza boxes in hand. A warm smile lit up your face as the delicious smell of pizza filled the room, “you ordered pizza?”

 “Yeah, I figured you’d be hungry, you do like pizza, right?”

 “Of course,” you hummed, shuffling over to make room for Mark to sit next to you.

 You spent the next two hours sharing the food between you and talking, laughing like normal youngsters should. It felt good to finally be in each other’s company without watching your back or worrying about the future. You had the television on in the background, it was playing an old black and white film that you weren’t really paying attention to, and you felt at home.

 Mark placed the empty boxes on the coffee table once you’d finished with them, pulling you into him and tangling his legs with yours as you rested your head on his chest and listened to his quickened heartbeat. “What do you do? You know, when you’re not causing trouble”

 He visibly tensed at your question and looked away from you as he thought of what to reply “I work for a company, just running errands. It’s nothing special,” he shrugged, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You mind if I smoke?” you shook your head.

 “That sounds a bit boring,” you yawned into his chest, feeling the vibrations of his chest as he let out a soft laugh. He leaned over you momentarily to reach for his pack of cigarettes before leaning back again and fishing his lighter from his pocket.

 “Yeah, I guess it is,” he replied as he caught a cigarette between his lips and brought his lighter up to encase the stick in a flame, leaving behind a glowing tip. He took a long drag, letting his eyes flutter shut in bliss for a second before blowing the smoke out, angling his head up so as to not blow it in your direction.

 “Why don’t you quit?” you coughed a little, fanning away the smoke that had snaked its way down to you.

 “Smoking or work?”

 “Work,” you chuckled, glancing up at him and tracing a finger along his jawline. Admiring the way his jaw flexed as he exhaled another plume of smoke.

“It pays well”

 “You get paid well for running errands?” you raised an eyebrow at him, not quite believing his reasoning.

 “Yes?”

 Before you can say anything else, Marks phone rings from its place on the floor by the empty pizza boxes. “Shit I better get that-,” he lifted the cigarette from his lips and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the table after taking a final, lengthy drag from the glowing stick.

 “It’s okay, I should probably head home anyway,” you cut him off, it was getting late and you didn’t plan on staying the night, you had a 9am lecture the next morning.

 “Alright, baby. Get home safe,” he stood up, pulling you up with him and pulling you in to press a peck on your supple lips, and then another slightly more drawn out kiss before you dragged yourself away from him, not wanting to get carried away. He tasted like wispy smoke and peppermint again and you could so easily get lost in his lips, the effort to pull away proving to be gallant.

 “I’ll see you later,” you blushed up at him, fiddling with the sleeves of your jumper. You turned your back and walked towards the exit, hearing him pick up his phone and answer the incessant ringing. His voice was muffled through the thin wall of his main corridor, and although you knew it was wrong, you found yourself listening.

 “Hey, Sicheng. What’s up?”

 “No, not yet. Hey, can we talk about this later? Now’s not a good time, man.”

 You could picture Mark furrowing his brows in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, smiling softly to yourself as you slipped on your shoes.

 “Yeah, y/n just left, actually”

 “Yes, Sicheng. I know”

 “I’ll do it soon, I swear”

 Your ears perked up at the mention of your name and you suddenly felt like you were invading his privacy by staying and listening to this conversation. You didn’t feel comfortable hearing information you probably shouldn’t have been privy to. And so, you slipped out of Marks warm apartment as quietly as you could and walked home at a brisk pace, eager to jump into the comfort of your own bed and fall asleep.

 -

 “That’s all for today, don’t forget your deadline next week!” you stood up from your seat in the lecture hall and stuffed your laptop and notebook into your scruffy bag before walking down the stairs to the exit. You’d just finished a two-hour lecture on the history of fine art, the one part of your major that you didn’t absolutely love. It’s not that you didn’t find it interesting, you just felt that it dragged on sometimes; half an hour felt like twice as long in that class.

 You left the room as quickly as you could, already imagining how good your Thursday latte would taste once you made it to the coffee shop. You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to notice the boy walking in your direction until you bumped into a firm structure, far broader and taller than your own.

 You looked up and smiled as your eyes were met with the pretty sight of Mark’s curly black hair - messy as always, yet still so perfect. “Hi” you grimaced up at him through your lashes.

 “Hey, princess-” he chuckled, “-mind if I join you?” He didn’t give you time to reply as he took your hand in his and pulled you out of your lecture building. “I’m guessing you’re heading to Hyuck’s café?”

 “Yeah” you replied quietly as you glanced down at your intertwined hands, a rosy blush spreading its way up your neck and onto the apples of your cheeks, you tried not to smile too much. You hated the effect he had on you. He had the ability to turn you into a blushing mess at the drop of a hat, and he made it look so easy, it’s like he didn’t even have to try. You wiggled your way out of his grasp, remembering that you were in public. The last thing you wanted was for one of your dads associates to report something back to him, again.

 “How was your day?” he peered across to you, ignoring the way you had separated yourself from him.

 “It’s been alright, pretty standard. How did you know where to find me?” you replied in question, wiggling your eyebrows up at him, “stalker” you giggled, watching as he opened his mouth to respond, shutting it before he could say anything. He looked like a fish.

 “You mind if we take the bike?” he nodded his head towards the striking motorcycle just ahead of you, it wasn’t parked very carefully. He had obviously just pulled up and jumped off in a rush.

 “Oh, it’s okay I can just walk-”

 “Nonsense, baby. Hop on,” he picked up his helmet, placing it on your head and fastening the strap under your chin. “Perfect” he smiled once he was done, admiring how you looked in the soft light of the early evening for the first time. His smile was sad, though you didn’t really think anything of it.

 The two of you usually crossed paths when the sun had set, and the stars were visible for the night, it was nice to see Mark in the golden hour of the day for once. His skin was glowing as he bathed in the light, his black curly hair a stark contrast as his messy locks fell against his forehead and into his eyes. He looked breathtaking, although you supposed that shouldn’t really come as a surprise to you anymore; Mark always looked breathtaking, ethereal even. It was as if he was sculpted by the gods themselves, his beauty truly not of this world.

 You rode through the city, the warm air blowing your hair over your shoulders as your arms automatically wrapped themselves snugly around Marks toned core.

 You found yourself in a state of serenity when you were close to him like this. His warmth and his intoxicating aroma were the deadliest of all combinations. Truthfully, if Mark was an erupting volcano, you would most likely swim towards his lethal inferno. You didn’t understand why you felt this way; he had some unknown, invisible control over you and you were sure you were already addicted.

 “Oh, crap,” you heard under a hushed breath from in front of you. Mark was looking from side to side in a frantic motion, his sudden state of distress immediately alarming you.

 “Mark?” he muttered something that you didn’t quite catch, ignoring your questioning plea. The air around you turned static at the revving of an engine or two coming from right behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck raised into goosebumps and you called out his name once more.

 “It’s fine, baby- shit-” you heard a sharp intake of breath and you lifted your head slightly so that you could rest your forehead on Marks shoulder, letting your eyes screw tightly shut.

 The bike swerved violently to the right as you heard the first gun-shot ring out, it’s deafening sound leaving a painful ringing in your ears. “What the fuck was that? Was that a gun-shot? Holy crap, oh my God-” you stopped yourself and were now verging on terrified as you buried your face further into his warm body. “Mark? What’s going on?”

 “Just hold on real tight, okay?” he briefly glanced back to your quivering, hunched over figure, placing a reassuring hand on the lower part of your thigh, hoping to send you some form of comfort – it didn’t really work. “We’re gonna be fine”

 He seemed determined to get you both out of this mess unscathed, urging his bike to reach dangerous speeds as he steered you both through the bustling traffic of the city, weaving between cars and turning down backstreets, trying desperately to lose your unwanted companions. His entire body was tensed - you could feel it. The adrenaline that was rushing through his blood was causing his veins to pulsate and protrude and his arms were firm with concentration, his grip on the handles of his motorcycle never wavering.

 Another shot rang out. The bike juddered speedily along a small one-way street as you both felt the impact of a bullet nestling itself into the framework; luckily not hindering your getaway speed. “For fucks sake” he cursed as he noted the damage to his precious motorcycle.

 You were muttering a mantra under your breath as you prayed to the Gods that you didn’t believe in; you prayed to Ares and Dionysus and Hades. You chanted and begged to Marks Godlike entity, willing the gunfire to end and for you to be able to have him in piece. You just wanted to be with Mark. That was all. You wanted to enjoy his presence without constantly feeling the watchful gaze of someone lurking in the shadows. You’d been on edge about it ever since you’d received that text, maybe this was your punishment. Perhaps you’d have to endure this as your comeuppance, your retribution for disobeying your fathers’ wishes. What you didn’t realise, however, was that your father wasn’t your greatest threat.

 The wind only grew colder as you sped along the quiet streets, it seemed that Mark was leading you out of the city and away from the bustling streets. The cloud of polluted air covering the city faded until you could only smell fresh, salty air and the never-ending traffic blurred into the soft sound of waves crashing against the sand of the nearby beach. Mark had brought you to the sea.

 “They’re gone” he called over his shoulder as you slowed to a halt at the empty end of the beach. You didn’t dare move from your place behind him, holding him so tightly you feared you may be suffocating him, but he didn’t complain. He instead hung his head low and released his grip on the handlebars, opting to drop his head into his hands and let out the breath he’d been holding in for the past fifteen minutes. “C’mon”.

 You took the hand that Mark offered you once he’d stepped onto the rotting wood of the boardwalk next to you, letting him help your shaking form stand up. You looked up at him with fearful eyes, you didn’t know what to think. Who were they? Had your dad sent them after Mark? After you? You weren’t sure if you wanted to know, you were just glad to be standing back on your own two feet and by the safety of the ocean. You felt safe with Mark, regardless.

You let him guide you down the grassy dunes and onto the soft white sand, neither of you exchanging any words for quite some time. You were in shock, perhaps. You weren’t really sure where to begin. The two of you took your time drinking in the lengthy stretch of sand before you, hands loosely linked together in an attempt to reassure one another that you were both okay.

 It was Mark who spoke up first. He let out a shaky sigh after you’d been walking aimlessly along the beach for several painfully silent minutes. “I guess I should probably start talking, right?” he let out a nervous laugh and lifted his free hand to rub at the back of his neck, something you’d picked up on as a nervous habit of his.

 You looked up at him, the look in your eyes enough to tell him that he should explain himself.

 “The company I work for, the errands I run aren’t exactly legal” he started, not even able to look you in the eye as he spoke. “I’m so sorry you’re caught up in this, y/n,” his voice breaking as he spoke.

 “What do you mean? I’m not caught up in anything. We lost them, Mark. We’re alright.” You stopped walking, tugging on his hand until he turned around and stood in front of you. The almighty, Godlike figure you’d first met suddenly looked like a trembling mess, his tough gaze breaking under your scrutiny.

 “God, I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.” Mark whispered softly as he looked into your eyes, his pupils flitting around your face, he seemed uneasy. You weren’t entirely sure you’d heard him correctly, though. Mark loved you. He loved you, and you were too stupid to see it. “Why did it have to be you?”

 As you looked up at the raven-haired boy, you realised something. Or rather, you understood something. You understood what it felt like to have something that you never wanted to lose. In the few fleeting weeks you’d known Mark, you’d grown to care for him. His towering frame made you feel small and helpless but being in his presence somehow also made you feel powerful and free. When you were with him, it felt like nothing else mattered, he was everything; he was the air that you breathed, the drug that you were addicted to, the celestial being that you didn’t know you craved so badly until he’d first kissed you. You needed him, and perhaps you did love him, even after only a short time, you’d grown so attached.

 He plucked his phone from his pocket and looked at the text he’d seemingly just received, swiftly putting it back in his pocket before you could see, “Not now, God. Not yet.” He muttered frantically, he was manic, the look in his eyes unlike anything he’d ever expressed to you before.

 “This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t meant to happen. I’ve fucked this all up and I cannot express how sorry I truly am-,” he cut his rambling off when you reached up to cup his face in the smooth palms of your hands, stroking your thumbs lovingly over his cheeks. He was a wreck, a trembling cage of beauty in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss his fears away.

 “They gave me an assignment and I don’t know what I was thinking when I accepted it,” he searched your eyes in panic, lifting his own large palms to cover your dainty hands, pulling your hands down to rest on his broad chest. “They’ll kill me if I don’t deliver, I always complete my missions, I-” he heaved out a deep breath and gave himself a moment to think. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

 “Baby, it’s okay. We can figure this out together, alright?” you were calm as you spoke, although your heart was racing ninety to the dozen. You were scared, yes. But Mark made you feel safe, you had nothing to fear when you were with him, that much you were sure of now.

 You grasped his hands tightly in yours as he held them against his own chest, the thundering beat of his heart hard to miss. “I love you.”

 “Let me love you, Mark,” you trained your eyes on his lips and leaned into him, melting into his embrace completely the second your lips met his. You kissed him so delicately, letting your feelings mold into every fibre of his being with each and every peck, each time your lips met becoming more and more heavenly. He wrapped you up in his arms and you couldn’t possibly be any closer to one another no matter how hard you tried; your chests were pressed flush against each other, your hands touching every inch of skin as your tongues met in a passionate dance.

 “Don’t shut me out any longer,” you gasped as you broke away for air momentarily, before reattaching your lips to his in a drawn-out kiss. “I can’t get enough of you, Mark,” you panted, digging your fingertips into his shoulders in utter, blown-out bliss.

 Marks hands travelled from yours to meet around your waist, your lower back, your hips, your neck. He was touching you everywhere, like it was the last time he would touch you, kiss you, like this. His lips sucked on yours and his kisses were feverish and open mouthed, his thigh propped between your legs as he tried to keep you both steady. He finally settled one of his hands to rest between your ear and your jaw, pulling away to admire your wind-swept state in the heat of the moment. “You’re beautiful, y/n. You know that?” you could see tears beginning to form in the corners of the gorgeous, doe eyes you’d fallen into so deeply, his gaze leering so heavily into your own.

 He pressed a final, barely-there kiss to your supple lips before dropping his head into the crook of your neck languidly. His hot breath stuttered against your neck, your hairs standing on end as you bathed in his being. His hold on you felt like molten lava against your skin, his very touch burning hot onto your sensitive skin, leaving red trails wherever his fingertips travelled.

 “I love you, please forgive me,” he sounded distraught.

 You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, and another shiver once you felt the cold metal come between your bodies, although you didn’t have time to react before you felt it, before you heard it. The sound in itself would have been enough to make you faint, it was piercing and deadly and you were gone. The gun between you fell to the floor as Mark shook violently in horror at your now limp body, which had now fallen, crumbled lifelessly into his arms. Your heart. He’d shot you straight through your heart, he’d put a bullet through all your love for him.

 “I’m so sorry,” he was hysterical, yet unnervingly tranquil at the same time.  

 “They told me I had to kill you. Your fathers’ company is our biggest threat and I-,” he paused, shaking his head as the tears began to cascade silently down his cheeks. “I had to do it. I had to make him vulnerable, I had to put work first.”

 “I didn’t have a choice, I’m so fucking sorry, y/n,” he lowered himself to the ground and sobbed as his arms thrashed into your unmoving body, his fists clenching at your blood-soaked clothes. The colour drained from your skin and in turn, Marks face paled in trepidation, his heart felt heavy, yet so incredibly empty. He loves you, but he’d shot you. You were dead.

[haroldosaur]

Advice for 16-year-olds (from someone who was once 16)

Always have good music as close to hand as possible.

Don’t be afraid to laugh, to goof off, to completely waste time you should spend learning just having fun. Those are the memories that’ll stick with you.

The vast majority of your peers are either going to be as stressed as you, or more stressed than you. Take heart from the fact that you’re not alone in your suffering, but don’t be afraid to be kind to someone if they’re stressing out, either.

Never stop consuming media. It doesn’t have to be the classics (or even books!), but anything that stimulates you and gets you learning, or inspired, or at least a bit creative.

However careful you think you’re being with your personal information on the internet, be at least 20% more careful than that.

Walking away is basically always an option.

People are going to see you as an adult and a child simultaneously, and you’re probably going to get the worst of both worlds (pressures of adulthood mixed with the lack of agency of childhood) – that’s just the curse of being a teenager.

If you condemn someone, make sure it’s for genuine ill intent and ill actions, and that they haven’t just made an honest mistake.

When it comes to drinking, make sure that the first time you get drunk, you’re with people you trust beyond any shadow of a doubt.

The sooner you discover your limits, as well as how you act when you’re drunk, the better.

If at all possible, don’t become famous.

(the rest is under the cut, it was getting long lol)

You can loop YouTube videos by right-clicking on the video while it’s playing and then pressing the ‘loop’ icon.

There’s always more free stuff on the internet than you’d think, but exercise caution and make sure you don’t download any viruses.

When people say they “aren’t political”, or don’t care about politics, the implication of that (which they may not even be conscious of) is that the system as it is now suits them just fine, and they have no desire to see the world change. Do with this information what you will.

If you’re looking for music to revise to, videogame soundtracks are the best. There are no vocals to distract you, they’re long, and they’re designed to immerse you and make you more focused.

Be careful when crossing roads – wherever you’re trying to get to may be important, but your life is importanter.

Make sure that your relationships with people are roughly give-and-take – if they’re initiating all the conversations, make the effort to reach out to them first sometimes. If you’re the one always making the effort – I mean, that one’s more situational, but I’d say you should at least consider the fact that you might care about them more than they care about you.

Have a handful of books, shows, or movies, that you think are really good and are always willing to talk about – bonus points if you can articulate exactly why you like them so much.

Being passionate and well-informed is a great combo!

Look at a sunset at least once a day.

On the subject of uni, I’ll just say this: going to a university is worth it for the accesses and privileges alone, because you’ll get to read all sorts of genuinely interesting papers and sources.

On the one hand, student debt. On the other hand, I got to read a paper about what drugs cave people might have been on. Just sayin’.

Keep an open mind, and never be afraid to admit that you’re wrong about something.

Make sure you can play an instrument at least passably.

A living space should be clean, but it should also be exciting, and be yours. Don’t be afraid to display yourself and the things you honestly care about.

Hugs are good. I’d recommend lots.

Know your history. There are always going to be influences on the present in the past, like them or not. (Also, when you try to say something about history and get it wrong, the actual historians will laugh at you. No-one wants to be laughed at by historians. They’re nerds. It’s like getting beaten up by someone less than 5 feet tall.)

Don’t get twitter. If you do, don’t make any posts, and stay out of the trending tab.

Always stay updated on your emails from school/university/work. As you grow older, the onus will be on you to remember things, so it’s up to you to keep on top of your responsibilities and workload.

Know at least three good dance moves (that you can easily bust out at any given time).

 Never listen to guys who criticise ‘girly’ videogames because ‘the entire game is just about doing tasks’ (like talking or farming or shopping). Point and shoot is also a task, it’s just violent. (or so sayeth the Tumblr post)

You feel old, which is fair, because this is the oldest you’ve ever been. But in a lot of ways, you’re still young, and it can sting to be reminded of that. Don’t get upset because you don’t have a lot of life experience yet – just listen to the people who do.

Of course, if someone is rude, patronising, or disrespectful to you just because you’re young, you have full right to tell them to shove it.

Never trust anyone who says treats animation like a genre instead of a medium.

Cite your sources whenever possible.

Question your sources whenever possible.

There’s a gannet to run between going along with the crowd, and being stubbornly contrarian at every opportunity. You’re gonna want to a look for a happy medium between these two.

Do lots of THINGS. You regret mistakes, but you regret the missed opportunities more.

The quickest way to double your money is to just keep it in your pocket.

Open a bank account as soon as you’re able - even if you get on well with your parents, it’s still nice to be able to buy stuff for yourself without having to run everything by them first

On that front, it’s definitely best to start saving up for stuff like a pension as soon as you can, if you’re in the position to do so.

Almost everyone looks at least a BIT ridiculous in photos, especially at the age of 16. The sooner you accept that and learn to laugh at yourself and others in equal measure, the happier you’ll be.

If you’re monolingual, try and learn another language. Go on. Do it. Make an effort.

There’s a reason that the classics are classics. Don’t disparage them and throw them away just because they’re old, or problematic.

Love yourself, love yourself, love yourself. You are your own best friend.

Legality and morality are so not the same thing.

That being said, breaking the law can definitely be more trouble than it’s worth. Don’t just do it for shits and giggles, yeah?

Cry if you want to. Especially if you’re a boy. I really think you’ll feel so much better if you let those feelings out instead of keeping them repressed.

You don’t owe internet strangers and weirdos a damn thing, least of all a debate.

Get outside and take a deep breath. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

Life is a series of venn diagrams. It is possible to hold multiple opinions on a topic, and it is possible to think in shades of grey.

If nothing else, hang in there for at least one more year, because at the age of 17, you are granted the rank of Dancing Queen.

Um

That’s it.

OH WAIT

Never be afraid to tell people you love them.

[sanghyukstattoos]

I'm sure of that. Dawon stans, show up here! 🙋🏻‍♀️ About your requests open, this is the best news ever 😍 So, let me think... What about something cute, I don't know well, maybe a cuddle night with a sweet make out session? Or a late night date watching the stars... Something like that. I'm lacking with my ideias these days, so feel free to improve it. And thank you ^.^ 💟 - 🦋

Date night 

Pairing: Lee Sanghyuk I Dawon x Reader 

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2699

Summary: Today, the heart- warming memories of how you two started dating came back to you and while work may not have been the best, it sure felt like the right day for a date with your loving boyfriend, Sanghyuk. 

A/N: Heyyy 🦋, I’m sorry for making you wait once again but here it is! *Presents proudly* I loved your idea and had such an amazing time writing it. Also, I���ve been receiving support on my other fic ‘Warmth’ and I’m really thankful for that so here is another fic that I hope you can enjoy!

Dates weren’t uncommon between the two of you but suddenly reminded of how much you love him, there had to be a date for a date somewhere in the near future. Since you started dating during the summer of last year, tooth- rotting fluff between the two of you made you shy. The kind of shy where you would smile widely but look away and try to force it off your face. You were embarrassed at how he made you feel so you tried to hide it and send subtle signs hoping he would get the hints.

Unfortunately he didn’t because anytime you would flirt, he would do the same under the guise of friendship. Ripples of frustration made its course through you and one day, all your pent up feelings splashed like a bucket of paint hurled across canvas. You didn’t go for the obvious options of screaming, shouting or crying but just kissing him. Pouring all your feelings into one kiss, relief flooded through you and the desire to hug him overcame you but holding back you hoped that at least this time he would be able to return your feelings. That is exactly what he did and ever since then, the both of you have been going strong. 

In the past couple of weeks there had been changes in your work. A change of leadership and office politics not only made the atmosphere tense but working with your team was hard. Back straight and unbiased smiles towards everyone, you made sure to do an excellent job of not getting involved in any drama. The outcome would be greater than getting involved however, it was eating away at you and you could see that the same was happening with your co-workers. The less the issue was treated, the more difficult it became to solve it. 

Break time came and you were about to leave when a buzz caught your attention. It may have been a passing moment’s worth of information travelling through your visual field but you knew it was him. 

Picking it up, you read, ‘’Hey, how is work? Are your co-workers still having that fight 😂😢’’ causing a smile to light up your face. 

Laughing, you texted back, ‘’Hey, work is still the same. Oh yes, they definitely are and this is making everyone antisocial 🤧 Feels great to be here, you know💀 How is your work?’’. 

Collecting your coat and making a headway for the elevator, you exited the building and walked towards the café opposite- not an unusual place to meet up with colleagues from different departments. 

Opening the door, you were greeted with the distinct smell of cinnamon and pecan nuts. Your eyes caught your friends sitting at different tables. They look like a bunch of students gossiping but the difference is that it’s over coffee. You smiled at the thought. They instantly recognised you and waves were exchanged. Making your way to the table and taking a free seat, a senior spoke, 

‘’I heard that there are some plans underway to build a building at the back’’ to which someone else replied, ‘’Is that where all the resources are going? We need more hole punchers though, because someone seems to be stealing all of them.’’ eliciting laughs from those at the table. 

Your phone buzzed back and opening the message, you read, ‘’Oh nooo, is my baby having a hard time? Don’t worry, some things take time so cheer up and hope for the best~~. Also, I’ve been thinking, since you need a break, why don’t we go on a date?’’. 

Your heart skipped a little at the mention of a date and you texted back, ‘’Ah yes, your baby is having a hard time T_T. Is there a small chance if any, for me to scream on the rooftop tonight? Thank you, I’ll be here waiting 🙋‍♀️ A date sounds super refreshing right now and I wouldn’t mind the idea ~^~’’. 

Online now he texted, ‘’Hehe, you’ll get plenty of hugs when you get home. Very funny or did you forget that we don’t have a roof? Obviously you didn’t so do you think our neighbours will call the police, they think we’re are crazy people already..’’

Resisting the urge to laugh, you replied, ‘’I don’t even know who our neighbours are, should I just call it a half day and head home? Time and place for our date?’’. 

‘’That’s cute ;) I’ll pick you up but at what time do you finish today? Also, I don’t remember our neighbours being scary or anything like that 😶. This one’s a bit random but one day, just one day, lets sleep in. The place is a surprise and no, it doesn’t matter how many times you budge me, I won’t tell you 😘 ‘’ came his reply.

Looking back up from the screen and sipping your coffee, you decided that you had a decent amount of time remaining. 

You texted him back with, ‘’I finish at 5:30 today, what about you? I could meet you at home if there is a lot of waiting time. It’s a bit random ahaha, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in and plus we could do it on a Friday so we have a three-day weekend. Because you won’t tell me, I’m super excited now. You may get into trouble if I call you right now but just wait, when we meet I’m going to shake it out of you😊’’. 

You could picture him laughing a little on the other side as he replied, ‘’I finish at 4:15 today so I’ll pick you up and don’t worry, it’s only a little bit of a wait. I love how we are scheduling a perfect time for us to be lazy and you know what? That sounds absolutely amazing to me right now so tell when you want to do that. Also, my lips are sealed 🤐 🤗 ’’. 

Excited for the date, a small smile reached your face as you texted back, ‘’I’d love that too so tomorrow let’s schedule it together. Alright, I guess I can wait for up to 6 hours 😑 I can’t wait to meet you though, see you soon.’’.

‘’Whoever said 6 hours is long? I can already see you frowning at the mention of that 😂 😂 . Anyways, see you soon babe’’ you read and pocketed your phone with the thought of a date lingering at the back of your mind. 

Break ended within the span of a couple of minutes and exiting the café, you made your way back to work. A small sigh escaped your lips thinking about the workload but you straightened your back and walked confidently pursuing the idea of dedicating these hours to doing what you loved the most. Even if it meant dealing with the tension, in hindsight, the office would most likely joke about it after it ended so until that time came, you just had to wait. 

Sitting at your desk, you took in a deep breath preparing yourself for whatever was to come. Powering through the work felt satisfying, if not, at ease because not only did you get most of your work done, it was almost the end of the day and you could finally see your boyfriend- the moment you had been waiting for. 

It had always been like this as the day was fun but the most exciting part was leaving knowing that you had done what you came for. In the elevator, your senior from another department walked in. Recognition flashed across your faces and you greeted one another but subtly, you felt nervous.

 Your co-workers absolutely, and you meant absolutely spent all day dreaming about how fit this man was. You couldn’t have disagreed more, nudging Sanghyuk forward as more fit even though he wouldn’t admit it even if his life depended on it. ‘’You okay?’’ he asked and you looked up, wondering what was happening. Small talk?. Nodding, you asked, ‘’You okay?’’ sealing the awkwardness in one question. After this you highly doubted any more words would be exchanged. 

Nodding, the rest of the ride was in silence and after exiting, the both of you parted ways like a middle parting hairstyle. Reaching for the doors, you kept a lookout for Sanghyuk’s car spotting it almost instantly. Inside, you could see him on his phone so you knocked hoping to scare him just a little bit and scared he was. Laughing as you opened the door, he placed a soft kiss on your lips, whispering a small, ‘’hey’’. Mouthing ‘’hey’’ back, he asked, ‘’Are you ready?’’. In excitement you replied, ‘’I’ve been waiting for this moment all day, so let’s go!’’. He laughed at your enthusiasm and you joined in, feeling content. 

‘‘By the way, you never told me where we’re going!’‘ you spoke suddenly, startling Sanghyuk. Ahahaha, he thinks I’ve forgotten, but forgotten I have not. ‘’Why do I feel like this is the start of you badgering me for information?’‘ he said as he laughed, rubbing his forehead. Nodding, you smiled replying, ‘‘Do we even know each other?’‘ drawing a laugh from him. 

‘‘Thank goodness the place isn’t that far away then’‘ to which you asked, ‘‘How far is it?’‘ knowing that wherever this place is, it was going to be at least half an hour away and that was enough time to break the surprise. ‘‘Forty five minutes’‘ he replied with a pink tint to his cheeks making you squeeze in delight. ‘‘Please tell me you can wait for that long’‘ he stated, making me look out the window and laugh. His eyes widened as you grabbed his hand in yours and you could tell from the look on his face that he was suspicious. 

‘‘You’re always doing something like that you know, like poking me or what not so honestly, I’m scared right now’‘ he said with a rush and almost immediately followed with, ‘‘Babe, I’m driving’‘. Suppressing the urge to tickle him, you wiggled your finger threateningly in the air as if to intimidate.

 Unimpressed and with the flattest look in his eyes, he stated, ‘’Bring it on. I’m just thinking right now, what’s the worst that could happen?’’ but you knew that his weakness was being ticklish, something you would love to voice loudly on speakers. Giggling, you raised it and dashed it as close to his suit jacket as possible, retreating when he smiled at your antics. Using a childish voice he said, ‘‘Cute’‘ dragging the end as far as the wide ocean and this time, it was your turn to be unimpressed. 

‘‘Wow, that’s mature’‘ which led him to give you an offended look. Bringing a hand to your mouth, you laughed to which he replied, ‘‘Coming from you?’‘. ‘‘Excuse me!’‘ you spluttered and the both of you sat there laughing. He shifted the position of your hands onto your lap and on the open road, the trees and the house passed by in a blur. If you looked back, the speed slowed down and everything was much clearer and resting your head on the headrest, you took in the fresh sandalwood scent of the car’s interior while the warm rays of sun ran across the dashboard as the ending of the trail led to his hand on the wheel. The backdrop a blur, your eyes traced the lining of his nose bridge all the way to his jawline, admiring his relaxed face. 

It wasn’t exactly a wonder but in the span of less than forty-five minutes, the sky had begun to darken. A pink and purplish hue descended mixing in with the darkness of the blue night sky. Among the low moon, the stars that littered the sky caught your eyes and this was the first time you had paid attention to the beauty of the sunset speaking gently, ‘’The sky is so pretty today’’. 

Looking up, he sucked in a sharp breath as he took in the stunning sight. ‘’It is’’ he said in agreement. Breaking the comfortable silence that enveloped the two of you, he stated with joy in his voice, ‘’We almost reached by the way’’ peaking your focus on your surroundings. 

‘‘Not a lot of people come here so we should have the place to ourselves’‘ he said, turning left and finding a parking spot. Stepping out, the wind blew calmly like the sea breeze at the beach- welcoming and pleasantly. Coming around the side, he hugged your hand in his own and tenderly tugged you along. 

‘’Where are we?’‘ you asked looking up at him with wide, honest eyes. ‘‘Somewhere where you can relax. A colleague recommended this place so I’m just as new to this place as you are.’‘ he ended with a twinkling laugh. Adorned with tiny, green plants, the pathway wasn’t lit but there was just enough moonlight for the both of you to walk up. From the distance, you realised how much wider the place actually was.

Sculpted, a dark green hedge was accompanied by dome- shaped, glossy bright orange flowers that could be seen even as night approached. It acted as an entrance and replaced all the signs welcoming confused visitors. Leading you towards a bench, the two of you took a seat side-by-side. He left your hand and instead wrapped an arm around your shoulder pulling you to rest your head on his chest. 

‘’Are you cold?’’ he asked and you shook your head disagreeing. ‘’You were right, this place is really relaxing. Thank you for thinking of me and bringing me here’’ you said in appreciation. Moving his right arm to the side of your head, he turned your head so that you were face to face with him. Eyes, a warm shade of dark brown, he connected his lips with yours.

Sweet passion fruit and milk chocolate, the sky blue hydrangeas bloomed; in the distant ambience of the place, a bird took its first flight, soaring. Carefully and softly, your lips moved with the flow of his lips which feel velvety and delicate. Leaning away, the both of you took a breath as he said, ‘’You know those people who you just click with? As in, you become their best friends and they become special to you. So always- I will always think of you.’’.

Your hands moved up to his face and capturing his cheeks, your lips met his. Connecting for the second time, he felt just as sweet as the first, like every kiss you had shared. Endearingly, he managed to daze you each time reminding you of the shiny and sugary glaze on doughnuts, simple and classic. 

Smiling, your hands moved to smooth his hair which really didn’t need any smoothing but you felt the need to press his face in between your hands. Slyly you said, ‘’I think I like you, like a lot’’ to which he chuckled and said, ‘’I like you a lot too so stay with me’’. ‘’I’m not going anywhere, I’m just here to bother you’’ you replied with a giggle and facing you he incredulously asked, ‘’Did you just ruin-?’’.

Laughing while shaking his head, he pressed a kiss to the side of your forehead making your cheeks turn pink. When you returned the kiss, he questioned, ‘’What was that for?’’ and looking at his flushed cheeks, you smiled at the accomplishment. ‘’Just so, for once, you can feel how you make me feel’’ you replied with a bright smile. 

Hand to his chest he acted like his chest was hurting and breathing hoarsely said, ‘’Slow down’’ making you laugh a little. Settling down, your head went back to lean on his chest. Fingers gently pushed your hair out of your face; you moved your arms to envelope his torso, feeling the toned lines. Lying in his embrace, the two of you sat and watched the stars.

 Therapeutic, your relationship was something that you looked forward to everyday because apart from seeing one another, new adventures and exciting thrills came your way. Ultra realistic stills of your time with him were printed and couldn’t be easily forgotten so together, you took baby steps, one day at a time.

[prince-liest]

Please take a mental Health break! You've been working so hard and have a lot of projects under tow. Medical uni is extremely stressful. My mom's mental health took a serious plunge from how stressful it is( her residency was a nightmare for the both of us). So many people drop out from the pressure. The fact that you're writng and studying is a big. And with the current circumstances, with C-19, it must be getting to you.

Unfortunately, that is not really possible! I do take all of Friday evenings after exams/classes off, which amounts to a nice 8 hours usually, but longer than that and I start skipping out on doing studies. And if I skip out on studies, I still need to learn that material - so I either have to do more later, or I fail to learn important material. All of that said, I’m gonna try some different tactics for my note-taking to triage a little better, and hopefully that will help. A lot of the difficulty right now is because our workload tripled for immunology, specifically because our immunology professor is a very excited PhD and we’re still doing anatomy - that’s why I have a lot of hope that things will get easier once we enter cardiopulmonary in a week and a half.

Also, fwiw, writing is my break, haha! I know it’s mentally engaging, but it’s relaxing for me compared to studying, and lets me engage in something I enjoy. Definitely does more to de-stress me than lounging around on Tiktok like I sometimes do when I’m really bleh... I’ve also been playing Hades to relax!

[terpia]

Under Pressure

Summary:  Dani is struggling with law school assignments, and Fiona is determined to do her best to help her. Unfortunately, life has slightly different plans for her.

Rating: T

Words: 2424

Ao3: (link)

Notes: This was written for the @phandomficfests secret Santa exchange, as a gift to the wonderful @yikesola. A big thank you to @jestbee for beta reading it!

For as long as Fiona could recall, winter used to always be her favourite time of year. Between the break from school, Christmas and her birthday in January, the winter season just seemed to bring so much joy and excitement into her life when she was little. In many ways, that still hasn’t changed. Just thinking about the upcoming (and much needed) break from uni, the fast-approaching holidays and her January birthday “week,” as Dani called it, brought a smile to her lips. Unfortunately, growing up and progressing further in the education system sullied somewhat the purity of her winter enjoyment by introducing a new depressing factor: end of semester assessments.

Fiona stared grimly at her planner, where 3 major assignments and an exam were all crammed together in the first week and a half of December. Although purely number-wise this was less workload than she was used to while doing her undergrad degree, the increased requirements and larger word counts of a master’s programme meant that she found herself busier than ever. And this year, grades and meeting deadlines were not the only things she was worried about.

Fiona glanced across the room to where Dani was lying on the bed, surrounded by what seemed like ten thousand textbooks; some of them in small unstable stacks, others lying half-opened and abandoned, while others still were bulging with various objects that Dani has decided to use as bookmarks, ranging from pens and highlighters to empty wrappers and other textbooks. The books all had titles like “Legal Research and Writing” and “Introduction to International Law.”

Dani was staring pensively out the window, the open textbook in front of her completely ignored. Fiona noticed that the page Dani was on had some sort of diagram on it, completely unremarkable except for the fact that it was the exact same diagram that Dani was on an hour earlier.

Fiona gently closed her laptop and went to sit by Dani, who didn’t even turn her head as she sat down on the bed. Fiona just looked at her for a few moments. Even after almost a year of being together, Fiona still could not get over how pretty Dani was. As she took in Dani’s deep brown eyes, her curly shoulder-length hair and a hint of freckles on her cheeks, Fiona could feel a frown forming on her face. Dani’s curly hair, which was usually carefully straightened. Her freckles, which she typically took great care to cover with concealer. Her eyes, and the grey bags beneath them, indicating how little sleep she’s been getting recently. The sweatpants and hoodie she’s been wearing for the past week.

Dani started law school just this September, and it was already becoming pretty obvious that the study of law and Dani were not meant to be. She was struggling enough as it was with her regular classes; the upcoming assignments and exams were driving her up the wall. She was in turns ravaged by anxiety, pacing around restlessly in the middle of the night, or taken over by this strange silent apathy. Fiona didn’t know exactly how to help her, but she was determined to do her best, encouraging Dani and being there for her. She knew that the next few weeks would be hard, but she also knew that together, they could do this.

***

Fiona opened her eyes to a lovely and bright late November morning, and immediately knew that she could not do this. Her temples were throbbing, her eyes were swollen and way too sensitive to the light, and her throat felt as if it was lined with sandpaper. She had her suspicions yesterday evening, between the strange light-headedness and the inexplicable ache in her back muscles, but now it was certain: she was sick. Fiona groaned quietly. Now, of all fucking times. So close to the deadlines. But there was hardly anything she could do about it, feeling so dreadful she could barely force herself to get out of bed. After a brief internal struggle, she took some medication she found in her kitchen cupboard, texted Dani to cancel their studying session, and then immediately went back to bed.

Three hours later, she was woken up by the sound of someone knocking on the door. At first she had no intention of moving, but as the knocking persisted, Fiona at last found some strength to get up and go open the door.

Dani was on the other side. She still looked dishevelled and the grey bags under her eyes were still present, but there was also a strangely determined look in her eyes and a plastic bag in her hands.

Fiona blinked in surprise. “Oh, Dani! Come in.”

As Dani walked in, putting down the bag and getting off her coat, Fiona eyed her with confusion. “What are you doing here? Did you forget we cancelled our study session?”

Dani hung up her stuff. “Nope. You’re sick, right?”

Fiona thought that her swollen eyelids, paler than usual complexion and the pyjamas she was wearing in the middle of the day were rather obvious indicators of her current state, but she didn’t say any of this, biting back the unkind words that were pushing to the tip of her tongue. The cold was making her cranky. Instead, she just nodded her head.

Dani nodded back once in response. “Well then. That’s why I’m here. You’re my girlfriend, so I have to take care of you.”

And with that statement, she went to the kitchen. Fiona followed her in.

“I bought you some cough syrup, Lemsip and a nasal spray, as well as a tin of biscuits, because why not,” Dani said, taking stuff out of the bag and putting it on the counter

“You really don’t have to do this, Dani,” Fiona said as gently as possible. “It’s just a normal cold, really, and you have so much other stuff to do.” Dani’s first exam was in just three days.

“No, I have to be here. You’re more important than uni and I should be here for you when you’re feeling unwell.”

As sweet as that sentiment was, the way Dani avoided Fiona’s eyes when she said it seemed to suggest that there was more to it than she was letting on. Fiona wanted to argue the point further, but she was too tired to deal with anything right now. Giving in, she returned to bed with mumbled thanks, and fell asleep within five minutes. The last thing she heard were the sounds of Dani bustling in the kitchen.

***

When she woke up a few hours later, she was feeling a little better and her head was a little clearer. Dani was sitting across her on a beanbag, which Fiona had impulsively bought after spying it on sale. Dani was mindlessly scrolling through her phone, but as soon as she noticed that Fiona has woken up, she got up with a smile.

“Good evening, sleeping beauty. While you were asleep, I made us some dinner. It’s just pasta with tomato sauce, which I know is not the most conventional ‘get better’ kind of meal, but hey, you can only work with what you got.”

“It’s just as well I’m not with you for your incredible cooking skills,” Fiona croaked with a smile, her voice raspy with sleep and the cold.

“At least I didn’t light myself on fire the way you would’ve had, Ms Master Chef,” Dani said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, that was just one time! And it could have happened to anyone.”

“I seriously doubt that anyone but you turns on the stove using their feet.”

“It was an accident! I was just trying to grab a Sharpie lying ON the stove with my foot, and accidentally turned the ignition on.”

“As if that makes it any better?”

And bickering in this way, they went into the kitchen.

The food, as simple as it was, did actually make Fiona feel a lot better. And it was great to see Dani being so cheerful and energetic again, after what seemed like months of constant stress and moodiness. Nevertheless, even as they were joking around and laughing while discussing some ridiculous hypothetical situation (what if you were born with an extra pair of thumbs on your thumbs?), Fiona couldn’t help but to feel worry building up somewhere deep within her. Even though it was good to let off some steam like this, Dani’s sudden readiness to drop everything to take care of her made Fiona feel uneasy. Dani really should have been pouring all of her energy into studying right now.

She decided to delicately broach the subject.

“Besides making this culinary work of art, what else did you do while I was asleep?”

“Why, worried that all your priceless china has suddenly disappeared into thin air?” Dani teased.

“Nah, with you I’d be more worried about all of my Ribena mysteriously going missing.”

“Well, can’t make any promises on that front, mate. If you wanted your Ribena untouched, you should’ve hidden it better instead of just leaving it completely unprotected in the fridge. It’s basically your fault I drank it.”

“I’ll invest in a safe in the future,” Fiona joked lightly. “But seriously. What else did you do?”

Dani’s gaze dropped to the table. She fiddled with her glass, turning it round and round with one hand. “Oh, you know. I washed up the dishes. Cleaned up a bit. You really should stop leaving your dirty socks just lying around everywhere, it’s disgusting. I also read up a bit on how to best deal with the common cold. Apparently, green tea with honey is supposed to be really good.”

“Did you study at all for your exams?” Fiona said. She regretted asking that as soon as the words left her mouth. Dani’s body instantly tensed up.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t see why that should matter right now. It’s more important for me to see that you get better soon, right?” Dani’s voice was sharp, yet brittle. She still hasn’t looked up.

“I didn’t mean that as an attack,” Fiona said quickly. “And I appreciate you being here for me, I really do. It’s just that I’m worried, your exams start so soon, and I know that studying for them hasn’t been the easiest for you-”

“Well, I’m sorry for being so bad at it,” Dani said. Her shoulders hunched up even more. “I hope I haven’t offended you with my not trying hard enough and not meeting your fucking studying standards.”

“Dani, that is not what I meant,” Fiona said, beginning to panic. “I just-” Fiona’s voice cracked. She was being too loud, too shrill for her sick vocal cords. She went into a coughing fit which seemed to last for ages. When she finally looked up, tears streaming down her face, Dani was looking back at her, her face sombre and unhappy. She nodded her head towards the bedroom.

“You should be in bed right now. Go lie down and I’ll make you some tea.”

Fiona just nodded weakly and did as she was told. A few moments later, Dani walked in. She gently set down the steaming mug on Fiona’s bedside drawer and then slowly sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed.

After a moment, Fiona reached her hand towards Dani, who took it and gently squeezed it.

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted out suddenly. A second of startled silence and a quick exchange of glances. Fiona could feel her shoulders beginning to shake and soon they were both giggling like little girls, aware that nothing that funny really happened, but unable to stop.

As they both slowly calmed down, the change in the room was almost palpable. Even though the atmosphere was still awkward, some of the tension seemed to have left. Dani leaned back a little more and grasped Fiona’s hand a little more firmly.

“I’m the one at fault here,” Dani said. “You asked me a well-intentioned question, concerned for me even while not being well yourself, and instead of being thankful for having a girlfriend who gives a shit or two, I just got mad and yelled at you. And after all my talk about taking care of you, too.” Dani frowned. “I’m so sorry, Fi. I really don’t deserve you.”

“You’re talking nonsense,” Fiona said. “And I’m the one who should be apologising. I knew that this is a very stressful period for you, and even so, my first response to seeing you more relaxed than I have seen you in weeks was to start pressuring you to work more as soon as I got a chance. And that’s after you’ve come into this lair of disease and made me food. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

“Let’s just agree that we both could have handled things better,” Dani said, a small smile playing on her lips. Then she dropped her gaze down again. “And it wasn’t you pressuring me to study that set me off. If I can be completely honest...” Dani stopped and was silent for a while. Fiona said nothing, letting Dani express herself at her own speed and just gently squeezing her hand for encouragement. Finally, Dani said quietly, “I don’t think I want to study law any more.”

“You want to drop out?” Fiona asked, making sure to sound as supportive and non-judgmental as possible.

Dani just nodded her head once.

“You know that I’ll always stand by you and support you, whatever decision you’ll end up making.”

That made Dani turn round and look at Fiona. The smile on her lips, although still small and shy, managed to somehow lit up her entire face.

“Yes. I know.”

***

Later, after Dani has made Fiona more tea, gave her a back massage and helped her to take a shower (well, the type of “help” that Dani offered did not actually help Fiona at all with the cleaning process and, if anything, only ended up making her more sweaty, but it still managed to considerably brighten Fiona’s day), they were both lying in bed together rewatching Buffy for the n-tieth time. In spite of Fiona’s protests that she’d get sick too, Dani was cuddling up to her.

“You know,” Fiona said contemplatively after a while, “perhaps all along the real bug here has been the love bug we caught along the way.”

“God, you’re so lame,” Dani said, pressing her face to Fiona’s neck in an attempt to hide her smile.

[strawberryfitzsherbert]

I’m giving a few explanations under the cut. No one is in any way obligated to read it! Honestly, it’s more just a place for me to get some things out so that hopefully I can leave them behind going in to 2020. That said, feel free to take a glance if you want - it might explain some mood/attitude changes, infrequent activity etc if you’re at all interested, but it’s likely gonna get kinda long. Anyways, cue me working through things by writing them down (as usual).

2018 took so much away from me. Thankfully, 2019 has been much kinder. That said, it’s still been a process of recovery, and I’m still reeling from a lot of what happened to me in 2018. I don’t remember how much of it I explicitly stated on here, but what the hell, I’m gonna throw it out there.

In the summer of 2018, within the span of two weeks, my mother (aged 49) died suddenly while I was away in South Africa on fieldwork; I was attacked in a car park by a random man in broad daylight; I had to start two brand new jobs; my left lung collapsed suddenly (apparently probably at least somewhat triggered by all the previous events). 

I won’t go into real details of any of these things, but as you can imagine, it was incredibly hard. It was hard being completely alone without any family, half the world away in the African bush when I got the phonecall about my mum. It was hard recovering from my collapsed lung, knowing it meant I wouldn’t be allowed to scuba dive any more (diving with sharks has been top of my bucket list for many years - it was hard to hear).

Then I had to go back for my second year of uni. There, I fell in love for the first time and subsequently had my first real heart break. On top of everything, it was just too much. I started drinking first thing in the morning. Finally, after being forced to a therapist and having a couple of sessions, I took two months out of uni before going back again after Christmas.

But I digress. This isn’t about 2018. This is about 2019 and 2020. The only reason I mention the Bad 2018 Stuff is because this is what I’m still recovering from in 2019 and going into 2020.

ANYWAYS. After all of this, as well as some less recent stuff, I’ve come to the realisation that along with my anxiety, panic disorder and paranoia, I also have (mild) PTSD, which isn’t super fun. 2019 has been a lot about learning to cope with all this stuff alongside the ever-increasing workload at university and my part-time art business. 

So I’ve been working through these things, trying to get my entire life back to some semblance of normality, and my workload has been insane. That’s why I’ve been very absent from tumblr this year.

There’s still ups and downs but I’m proud of the progress I’ve been making. I’ve maintained Firsts (the highest grade, for those of you not using the UK grading system) despite it all, grown my art business and am slowly getting there with my mental health. I’m not in love any more, for one thing, which is a pretty recent and very relieving development. 

2019 gave me: 

Closure

An awesome trip to my favourite town in Turkey with my whole family

Planning some fun future things

Meeting cool people

Adopting two adorable rescue rats

Learning to overcome things I never believed I could

Turning 21 (a few days ago)

A ski trip

An education school visit where I got to bring my animals in and teach kids about them and their habitats

2020 is bringing me:

Two months alone in Australia to recover and reset and just exist peacefully, which is something I’ve never been able to do. No responsibilities or obligations. Just me and nature and the other side of the world. Distance is gonna work wonders, I’m sure

A trip to Disneyland with my best pals!

Graduating university at last, hopefully with the First Class degree I am currently on track to receive. Leaving formal education behind after 17 years.

Hopefully getting my first full-time job which I will be well qualified for and have relevant experience in

The ability to let go of people and mindsets that are no longer serving me. Letting myself be happy and calm.

Continuing to work through all of this and coming out of it stronger, more self-aware and more self-assured.

In terms of tumblr, I’m so in love with the characters I currently have. I’m definitely taking a break from my multimuse at the moment, but my love for my disaster boys (Tex, Rai and Eugene) is stronger than ever. I’m currently in the midst of a huge workload, but once I’ve made a dent in that, I’m hoping to come back to RP. The break did me the world of good and I’m really starting to miss my boys, and all of you guys, too.

So thanks for sticking by me, so far! It feels good to have a lot of this stuff off my chest and I really hope you all have an amazing 2020 full of peace, happiness, excitement, healing and whatever progress you’d like to make in your life.

[b-hardys]

familiarity / roger taylor

✩ __ hasn’t seen roger since she ran out of his flat one sunday morning, but after a gig is just the perfect time, right? wrong. 

a/n this took almost a week to write? hopefully this is okay have a lovely weekend its 1:30am in melbourne and its officially the weekend ok im rambling I love roger and wish I was a singer oops (p.s wish I was dead and deadly doll are actually songs by jesse jo stark so check her out!) 

With every blink, she swore he had moved to another spot within the crowded and musty pub. The gig had been good, room for improvement, sure - Fletcher had slipped up on a cord on the ground and knocked into Rowan’s drum-kit, throwing off the drumbeat in the midst of “Wish I Was Dead” - but a good gig nonetheless. The ‘afterparty’ or pub crawl, whatever you wanted to call it, was in full swing, the place had to be at full capacity, but people kept filing in. The word throughout the cramped and claustrophobic crowd was that “Queen was here tonight!” and whether or not the foursome had been at the gig or not threw __ into a tailspin.

“You know, you can be upset he’s here.” Rowan’s thick Irish accent never failed to frighten the young woman when it appeared out of nowhere. ‘He’ had to be Roger, __ hadn’t seen him since she stumbled out of his shared flat that Sunday afternoon, too overwhelmed with her own emotions to even grab the coat she’d left on the rack by the door or the pyjamas she had hung up to dry by the radiator. The decision to break up with him had been festering within her head from the moment whatever his fucking ex’s name was came tumbling into __’s life. The constant foreshadowing of Roger being unfaithful or leaving her behind in the dust circulated around and around her mind; one person can only harbour so much paranoia before they crumble.

“I should not be upset, I broke up with him. I can’t go gallivanting around being upset and torn apart, that’s just unfair.” __’s stance on her emotions and her guilt had been implanted within her while she pinballed herself home through the crowded and wet streets of London that fateful afternoon. This decision to bottle everything up inside once she reached the elevator of her building had been eating away at her, no matter what she did or how many pep talks she’d tried to give herself in the mirror - quietly, the walls were thin and Fletcher’s room is beside hers.

The more __ thought about it, the more she drank. Between the drinks being handed to her with the passing comment of “fucking good set tonight!” and those being bought between the trio that was Deadly Doll, __ found herself fucking plastered. Her legs ached from bouncing around with Fletcher and Rowan and their girlfriends and anyone who had bounded into the sunken floor being used for a dancefloor, and her head felt like it wasn’t even attached to her shoulders anymore as if it was floating above her.

Having lost sight of Rowan and Fletcher hours earlier, __ seemed to be floating from social group to social group, and she swore she’d stopped for a moment to compliment Freddie on the coat he was wearing - but with how discombobulated and colluded her mind was at that present time it could have been anyone wearing a garbage bag for all she knew. Her eyes, no matter how hazy her vision, could always pinpoint the blue-eyed bombshell that had invaded her life and personal space for the eight months prior to a fortnight ago. Her eyes could also spot the smaller brunette attached to him, her baby pink blouse effortlessly knotted at her stomach and her jeans hugging in all the right places. Her lingering hand wandering up and down the expanse of Roger’s arm turned __’s night immediately sour. Any thought or feeling of accomplishment or victory they’d been celebrating had completely vanished from view, the only thought or feeling remaining being one of utter, drunken, sadness.

Fletcher knew, more than anyone, how much breaking up with Roger had truly affected __. Her mood at home was almost a half-version of herself. Her time, and thoughts, were commonly associated with music, and music only, as if a moment outside of their blossoming career would just be a haunting reminder of how much she’d let outside sources control and manipulate her happiness. Fletcher also, had his own drunk girlfriend to take care of, as well as himself - they weren’t getting home by sheer intuition, he knew that. So upon finding the young woman he classified as his best friend, not that he would ever admit it out loud, drunkenly sulking and borderline crying in the corner of the dingy and hot pub they’d been bouncing around in for the past couple of hours, he was truly worried.

“__, hey, hey, c’mon you need to calm down.” His hot, clammy hands tried their hardest to soothe the younger woman with her hair askew and the lace trimming of her tank top so uncomfortably itching her skin. “It’s just everything unbottling itself, you're alright.” Her mind had truly snapped, the tether she had been so desperate to maintain had finally worn down and everything was just seeping out of her. By no means was this a private escapade, the two of them drunkenly embracing in the corner while one of them was crying was so easy for everyone to see - the flickering neon light above them was definitely not helping either.

“Hey mate, your girlfriend is looking- oh, Christ.” The sight before Roger was purely heartbreaking. From that Sunday afternoon onwards, __’s pyjamas hadn’t moved from the clotheshorse beside the radiator, and her perfume remained atop his chest of draws, the smell still lingering on her former side of his bed. “What - I mean, what’s going on?” Between __ sitting in Fletcher’s lap, her body slightly shaking and Fletcher’s horrified and concerned expression, Roger was rightfully worried about what the fuck was happening in front of him.

“She just had a lot to drink, and you know her! She’s just bottled everything up - it’s come out.” __ just could not control the absolute gibberish that was piling out of her mouth. The neverending “I’m sorry” and “I want to go home” just accumulating between the three of them in the corner. “I need to go find Clara. Rog, can you just wait with her? I’ll come back when I find Clara!”

Roger truly had not seen __ since she ran out his and Brian’s flat; hours before when she was singing her heart out on stage being the only exception. And now, standing in the corner whole Fletcher was scanning his eyes around searching for his girlfriend (who he was not going to find while sitting there consoling __), Roger knew that he had to step in. “I’ll take __ home. You go find Clara, I’ll get __ to call ya’ in the morning.”

With a nod and some acknowledgement, Fletcher was off squeezing through all of the patrons still loitering around, thankfully too drunk to notice that __ was drunk off of her face and plunging her face into the space between Roger’s neck and shoulder.  

Trying to manoeuvre __ through the lobby towards the elevator had to be one of the hardest struggles Roger had faced within the past couple of months (not including his heart being split straight down the middle, with __ running down the street with her respective half). __ could stand, but hardly, her drowsiness and alcohol intake severely slowing down her inhibitions and co-ordination.

“Rog, I’m so sorry I’m your problem, I’m so sorry.” Sitting on the end of Roger’s bed simply felt so wrong and invasive. Even considering her drunken state, __ could recognise herself all over the small bedroom. Articles of her clothing still lingering in the room, polaroids of the two of them stuck up amongst the posters and mock-up Queen memorabilia. “I’m just, wow, just so sorry.” The tension in the room was ultimately suffocating, and awkward. __ didn't know what to do, didn't know where to put her hands or whether or not she should fumble around and try to take her shoes off.

Roger still looked the same - his hair a mess and his clothes so haphazardly mismatched but like it always did, it worked, everything worked for Roger. He was so gentle, even through the process that was trying to undress __ he was always so, so gentle. Even though __’s arms could hardly hold themselves up and she kept almost crying whenever she remembered that she was in Roger’s room again, with him and that she missed him, so, so much. Managing to manoeuvre __ down into his bed and under the covers had to be a mission, and he knew that the glitter she’d covered her eye-lids in was going to be all over his covers in the morning, but Roger could care less.

“It’s so inappropriate but please just stay with me.” The soft whisper would have been completely drowned out if anyone else had been inside the flat in those early hours of the morning. If Brian was pondering around or fiddling with his guitar, Roger would not have heard __’s plea for him to stay with her.

And yes, it was inappropriate. And yes, Roger should have said no and slept on the couch, or even Brian’s bed that remained unused that night. But, looking down at her lying underneath his covers once again, latching herself onto the pillow that used to be claimed as her own, he became a weaker version of himself. And four o’clock in the morning became the perfect time for Roger to slide in beside __, for __ to snuggle herself up beside the man she missed so much, and for Roger to lay the smallest, chaste kiss atop of __’s temple. They’d deal with whatever their intoxicated minds had decided was normal later in the morning.

I’m feeling like I might write a part two to this but we’ll see if my uni workload agrees with that idea, let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! I really like these characters and story so who knows. x