#Not to mention she and Bruno are both so empty

[femmeroi]

All robots please.. take off your clothes

[agroteraa]

Calling All My Lovelies

Felix Catton x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: AU where Saltburn's ending never happened. Felix lived happily up to 2017 (and on), where he happened to meet you. Meaning he is around 29-30 here.

Featuring the song "Calling All My Lovelies" by Bruno Mars

Also mentioning songs like "24K Magic" and "Too Good to Say Goodbye" by Bruno Mars, you can listen to them or even the whole "24K Magic" album for the right mood and atmosphere ❤️

Tags: fluffy angst, AU.

Warnings: mentions of sex, kinda?cheating, relationship misconception.

Word Count: 2,7K

Felix's London apartment was luxurious. Of course, it wasn't Saltburn, but there was a lot to see and be impressed by here too. Especially the view of the Thames, which was strewn on both sides with many lights of the most beautiful sights of the UK capital. Felix and all his guests found the lights especially bright in winter, as on this late February evening.

Especially the girls. Each of those whom he brought here stopped in awe at the huge panoramic windows and looked at the views almost from the height of the flight of a city bird. If before that they had somehow not been one hundred percent fascinated by Felix and his lifestyle, then this luxurious apartment was always the final charming argument.

Y/N was no exception.

When he brought you to his place after a fun evening full of alcohol, it seems that you looked at the views of the city more closely than anyone else and even managed to point out to him some new places from afar, which he did not pay much attention to or did not know what exactly these places were.

Felix smiled warmly - he would love to admire the view of the city with you, preferably standing in an embrace. But then he wasn't interested much of it back then, rather in something else. When he returned from the kitchen with a bottle of expensive alcohol and two glasses, you barely had time to taste the drink, as you merged again in a passionate kiss, which flowed into an even more passionate night. One of the best for both of you, and oh how he would like to repeat it.

But you weren't here right now.

There was no one but Felix himself, this evening was also full of alcohol, but there was little fun in it.

And all because you misunderstood each other. Very much.

When he brought you to his house from the club that day, he didn't think that you would take it all so seriously. Kate didn't take it in. Therefore, from her friend (or whoever you were to her, or maybe you didn't communicate that close? After all, if Felix had to think about it, it was the first time he saw you there with her…) he expected the same understanding.

You had a great time at the club, and then a night at Felix's apartment. Then you started to chat online a lot, went for a brunch and for a walk in the park, where you talked for a long, long time, cheerfully chatting about everything in the world. Well, except for discussing relationships. Then another night together, no less, if not more wonderful than that the previous one. Then another brunch. And after that… You had a lot of work and things to do, while Felix had a lot of free time and his own needs.

When you found out from Kate that he had slept with a couple of girls during that time (not with Kate herself, though they stopped sleeping not so long ago), you were crushed.

And she just shrugged her shoulders and said that you should have known or guessed that Felix lives in a free relationship mode.

You didn't know. Or you didn't want to know. And the main thing was that you thought that something special was going on between the two of you, you saw it in Felix's eyes, felt the distinct warmth of his touch and a certain special thrill overall. The way you talked to each other. It wasn't just sex or an empty mindless flirt, even in the beginning of your relationship was very fast and passionate. It was all felt even after two nights and many days, evenings and nights of mutual texting and calls.

Anyway, you didn't discuss otherwise. That was the whole point. And so, when, after things suddenly got clear, you received another usual message from Felix, you ignored it for a long time, unable to respond, being numb with pain, indignation and shame. You still was processing it and didn't believe to the end (that it would happened or that you were such a fool, you weren't sure yourself, probably both). Then, after a few more of his messages, you somehow pulled yourself together and answered all of them at once, quite briefly and dryly.

After some dialogue in a manner like that, Felix realized that there was clearly something wrong. He started asking what was the matter, to which you answered him:

"As if you don't know yourself."

"Explain?"

"I don't want to, I'm not in the mood to talk to you right now. If ever at all."

"???"

You didn't answer. Felix called. So, roughly in ten minutes of a phone conversation, you found out in raised tones that he "doesn't owe you anything nor didn't promise anything" that you "are fine as you are now, why complicate everything" and that "please, let's keep seeing each other, it doesn't mean anything special" was a real argument to him.

You almost shouted into the phone "No, if you don't want to complicate things, then I do, I'm sorry! More precisely, I wanted to. I thought we were serious.… Maybe... it seemed all... special. That's it, look, I... I don't want to talk any longer. And don't call me anymore, okay?"

And so, one day had passed, then two and three. And now the fourth day was already ending, turning into the fifth. You really didn't pick up the phone anymore and didn't respond to his messages, which were getting fewer and fewer every day.

But Felix had more and more thoughts in his head instead. He has almost passed all the stages of acceptance these days:

denial - "no, it's nothing, she's going to be mad a bit and come back to me";

anger - "not coming back? Well, fuck her!";

bargaining - "please, Y/N, answer my messages already...";

depression - "have I really lost touch with her forever?..".

Except for the acceptance itself, of course. And besides the fact that he was returning to all these stages randomly from time to time.

He really did not understand, he was not used to the fact that a girl could take a relationship with him that seriously, especially so immediately. Okay, these infatuations at school and even sometimes at university, when people fell head over heels in love with him, romanticizing him without really knowing him, but now? In the adult world, when everyone should understand the "rules of the game" and that no one seriously owes anyone anything until it is discussed. That was how Felix thought about it. And that was why it was so strange to him that it could hurt you so deeply.

He contemplated about it all the time and, to tell the truth, it even began to flatter him that someone could fall in love with him so much and take him that serious from the start. If he got everything correctly. Yes, at first it surprised him, then it worried him, then it flattered him, and after that... something inside him began to hurt unpleasantly?

He wasn't lying back then. These girl didn't mean a lot to him. But did this mean that Y/N did?..

His heart and mind began to fill with deep, complex feelings that he had not experienced for a long time and, to be honest, had not realized properly and processed in an adult way, being almost-thirty.

And Felix got scared. He was genuinely scared, that was why, first of all, he was pouring alcohol into himself all evening, inhaling lots of smoke as well.

And right now, he decided to brighten up his company not only with wine, champagne and cigarettes, but also with music. He chose Bruno Mars, whose new album he has listened to quite often since its release. Fancy stereo speakers filled his apartment with the loud sounds of "24K Magic".

Felix danced to the rhythm of the songs, sipping wine straight from the bottle. Now he tried to imagine that he was having fun in a club, and not alone in a dark empty apartment, and he almost succeeded in that.

That way Felix Catton decently lifted his mood along with the level of alcohol intoxication.

He skipped the song "Versace on the Floor" because he wasn't in the mood for slow romantic songs. But when "Calling All My Lovelies" started playing a little later, Felix was unable to switch it either.

He leaned back in one of the chairs, frowning and very intently listening through a decently tipsy consciousness to the lines of the song that had begun.

I got too many girls on hold for you to be so bold

Too many on my team for you to act so mean

"Oh, yeah. Exactly so," Felix thought.

You say you wanna go and have fun, well, you ain't the only one

If I ring, don't let it ring too long or I'm gone

"That's bloody right," he said aloud and nodded slightly several times, taking another sip of wine from the neck of the bottle.

I got Alicia waitin', Aisha waitin'

All the -eeshas waitin' on me

And also Stacey, Tracey, Macey, Lacey… Had he mentioned Tracey already? In general, all sorts of -aceys were waiting for him too, and not only them.

So why you contemplatin'? Playa hatin'?

If this is how it's gonna be

I'm callin' all my lovelies (Callin' all my lovelies)

'Cause I can't get a hold of you

At these words, Felix gripped the bottle so tightly that it almost broke under the force of his fingers squeezing it. It was definitely unpleasant for him to hear from Bruno Mars things that Felix was afraid to admit even to himself. He shook his head, closing his eyes. No, that was bullshit.

Since you ain't thinkin' of me (Since you ain't thinkin' of me)

Oh, look what you're makin' me do

Sharp breath. Closed eyes. Exhale.

Honey pie, I'm far too fly to be on standby

Sendin' me straight to voicemail, suga, what the hell? (What the hell?)

That was right! What the hell was all that? You ignored him too! How long had he been texting you and even calling you? Was that fair? Why should he run after you? He shouldn't.

Ooh, you ought to be ashamed, playin' these childish games

I don't get down like that, tell me where you're at, hit me back

Yes. Come and tell him that to his face. Oh, how he wanted you to be right in front of him now. Or didn't want to. No, he actually did. And not only to talk, getting things clear, but also to repeat the night like these… His imagination had already begun to draw pictures of how he would kiss you, undress you... and then… Your sensual moans echoed in his head. He almost felt your skin with his elictrified fingertips. And after that... no, no, stop.

Mmm, I got Alicia waitin', Aisha waitin'

All the -eeshas waitin' on me

"That's it, Bruno, you understand me, buddy! Felix mentally raised a bottle of wine as a toast and drank another sip to "them boys" and to "free spirits".

So why you contemplatin'? Playa hatin'?

If this is how it's gonna be

He could have called any of the girls he mentally had listed. And everyone would come to him immediately or at least as soon as possible, doing everything Felix would have wished. Ha. How do you like that, Y/N?

But for some reason he didn't want to text to any of them, much less call them.

The only voice he wanted to hear right now was yours.

I'm callin' all my lovelies (Callin' all my lovelies)

'Cause I can't get a hold of you

Since you ain't thinkin' of me (Since you ain't thinkin' of me)

Oh, look what you're makin' me do

For the second time, he couldn't stand listening to these words. Abruptly and carelessly putting the bottle on the glass table and staggering decently, Felix wandered off to get his phone. It was time to call his not-even-ex-not-girlfriend. Catton-Jr. seemed to be listening to the dial tone more on purpose, just not to listen too closely to the words of the song that went on:

Pick up the phone, pick up the phone

'Cause all this lovin' needs a home, oh, yeah

Oh, no, look at what you started, baby

Now, I'm left here brokenhearted, baby

"Pick up the phone, yes, pick up the phone, come on," he repeated, tapping his foot. The phone dropped the call after a short time, and the guy dialed for the second, then the third time and…

There's a pain in my chest, I cannot explain

I told myself I wasn't gon' cry (Oh, not gonna cry, no, no)

But somebody's gotta come dry these eyes 'cause (Dry these, ah, 'cause)

The dial tone beeps continued. Felix studied London at night under their measured rhythm. His favorite activity was to peer at passing boats and ships of various sizes, models and speed, as well as trying to count their number. He often got distracted, but still loved it.

So, he didn't notice that the beeps from the real phone had flowed into the beeps from the song. In "Calling All My Lovelies" Bruno's imaginary crush was a famous actress. Her voice "responded" in lively yet sensual tone:

Hi, you've reached Halle Berry. Sorry I can't get to the phone right now

But if you leave your name and number, I'll get right back to you *mwah*

Damn... (Bruno Mars' voice hissed back with increasing echoes and annoyance).

At this point, Felix himself clenched his teeth and threw the phone on the floor out of anger. Fortunately, the carpet was soft enough for the phone to survive the fury of its owner and continue to function in case you suddenly wanted to respond.

I'm callin', callin', callin', callin' all my lovelies

'Cause I can't get a hold of you

Oh, since you ain't thinkin' of me (Since you ain't thinkin' of me, baby)

Look what you're makin' me do

Felix almost whimpered at the realization of what a fool he had been and what a stupid situation he was in right now. Where he led himself. Why couldn't you two just talk? Why couldn't he just tell it all at once, from the start? Maybe it would have been different otherwise now. Resting his forehead against the big window, he felt its pleasant coolness, but it could not cool down his burning resentment inside. Most of all, he did not like it when the blame for the current situation could not be shifted to anyone or anything else, and this pained him incredibly right now.

Pick up the phone, pick up the phone

'Cause all this lovin' needs a home, oh

He collapsed into a chair near the window, clutching its handles tightly and stretching his long legs. If only he would…

Felix inhaled and exhaled noisily, throwing his head back and taking a pack of cigarettes along with a lighter out of his shirt pocket. The fingers did not obey a little, as the hands of their owner were shaking slightly from nerves and alcohol intoxication. He growled slightly in irritation. When the guy was finally able to light a cigarette, he took a long drag on it.

Now he wasn't in the mood for energetic and carefree songs. He skipped "Finesse".

That was how the last song from the album started playing - "Too Good to Say Goodbye":

I've made mistakes

I could have treated you better

I let you get away

There goes my happily ever after

Tell me why, why can't we try and start again?

This can't be how our story ends…

Oh, please…

He really did miss you.

And he was not right.

He wanted to win you and your trust over again. He finally admitted it with all his heart to himself. He would try. Really.

If only you could…

The phone, thrown on the fluffy carpet, suddenly came to life and started vibrating.

Releasing all the smoke from his lungs, which Felix had inhaled, at once, he abruptly bent down to the carpet.

Your name appeared on the phone screen, gleaming brightly in the darkness.

[sseomtada]

being [ruben dias]

your move to Manchester signifies a triumph - the result of nearly a decade of relentless, hard work. However, your sweet victory is quickly turned sour when you reencounter the person you once deeply loved.

a/n: remade secretly only to be back on my bs...here's to praying for me to finish this fic? | 1/??? | 4191 words

This weather was nothing short of an utter atrocity.

It was the kind of bone-chilling freeze that overpowered even your skin's ability to raise its own flesh. Every ounce of energy repurposed instead to turn that evolutionary feature inwards. A futile effort, at least in your case. Even back home in Amadora, you suffered from genetic lack of internal warmth.

Miserable environment aside, the move would be worth it. Everything that you’ve done for the past few years - nearly a decade of sleep deprivation, being the brunt bearer of power trips and clinging to the slimmest sliver of rarely presented opportunities - had led to this.

Not the brutalist view spanning the length of your new floor to ceiling living room windows, but what it signified. Growth. The expansion of your firm here, in Manchester.

“Estou exausta…”

You pulled your eyes from the endless clouds to see your right hand, Aki, draped limply over the last of your boxes.

“Careful.” You bent to rip open the tape sealing the one near your feet.

“Oh, sorry.” She blew her overgrown bangs up to no avail. “Am I crushing your precious CB2 ceramics?”

“Actually, you’re slowly sinking onto my very sharp surgical steel kitchen knives.” The box cutter in your hand gestured vaguely to the label beneath her hips.

Aki’s yelp echoed off through the empty loft as she sprang from the impending mockup of a medieval torture method. Your laughter joined in when she grimaced and muttered something threatening to the thick cardboard that remained dent free.

“Thanks for helping me with all this.” You exhaled. “I owe you.”

“We’re even when you think about it.” She fetched a box opener of her own.

Your eyes widened. There was never a moment in your lifelong friendship when she didn’t take up on an IOU card. Not even when she purposefully served a suspension for knocking the lights out of a girl who blew gum into your hair in the fifth grade.

“I mean, you brought me along with you to open Bana. Full executive package, no less.” Aki beamed and then sneered upon unboxing her newfound arch nemeses.

That was true. Since she was the company’s Head of Finance, her immigration to Manchester was completed covered. Housing located right across the hallway, a brand new car of choice and an increase in salary to accommodate for the higher price of living wasn't the worst package to receive.

It didn’t feel like much of a repayment for her efforts when all things were considered. Bana wouldn’t be close to what it was today if it wasn’t for her. Any business was only as successful as how well they manage their finances, an aspect that she can solely and proudly take credit for.

Not to mention that you both would be extremely busy while trying to fully establish this new branch. If anything, she at least deserved the building’s penthouse suite for the headaches bound to come throughout this journey.

“So…is that a pass on the 1982 Bruno Giacosa?” You dangled the proverbial carrot.

Aki didn’t miss a beat, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Getting ready for your first day at the office never felt this good.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that your first ever job was, understandably, anxiety inducing. Being an intern for a well-known marketing firm wasn’t known to be a glamorous position - the multitude of reasons for that not stopping at being a coffee gopher.

After climbing the ladder to a mid-level position within your previous company, it became painfully obvious that the older leaders had no intention of making room for you soon. To eradicate any dreams of that from your mind, they even outright said it.

That led to your next go at a first day, the start of your own consultancy which would then go on to become Bana. Even though you had established your presence in the marketing world and had a few loyal clients, no amount of seminars you’d attended or books you’d read could’ve prepared you for the monster of a task you’d taken on.

This time felt different. There was always going to be an element of nervousness when stepping into a new venture. Even though this was a new branch on a tree you knew well, there was a lot to learn about operating in a new country and little time to do so.

What you had now, however, allowed you to convert that nervous energy into excitement. Experience, establishment and esteem. Those things among the equally as important trustworthy team behind you left you more confident than anything else that this could potentially only be the beginning.

“There better be a good reason why you’ve got me out early on a morning like this.” Aki’s poor facial muscles have yet to relax since the move it seemed. This time their scrunch was due to storm clouds looming in the distance.

“I think our very lovely AD has something exciting to share.” You nodded to give her the go ahead.

“Ladies, as you know I’ve been working on getting us an in with a certain business through my various sources and I’m happy to report that Bana was among the firms selected to pitch.” Cindy could barely contain her excitement.

Her optimism was infectious and part of the reason you recruited her. Another reason for bringing her into the fold to establish the new office was the insane network she had.

The blonde Londoner was in a similar predicament to you when you were starting out not long aog. Even hungrier, if you admitted it. Her former employer didn’t see the potential she clearly possessed, so you had no problem poaching her from them.

“And do we finally get to know the name of this state secret level business?” Aki leaned forward.

“Nike!” Cindy couldn't hold back any longer.

Even your face dropped at that. Not in the way that one’s expression would if they just found out that they’d been rejected from their dream school. It was something akin to finding out you’d won a fucking Oscar.

Among the celebratory cheers and shimmies, you thanked Cindy greatly for her hard work. And although it was a moment of uncontainable joy, the wheels had already began to turn in your mind.

There was absolutely no room for error if you wanted this pitch to be chosen. Being a newer firm undoubtably going up against major competition, Bana’s proposal had to be more than just that.

It had to be a statement. One that said you were not only a major player in this field, but that you also were to be seen as a direct rival.

You got to delegating tasks quickly. The sooner you got the bare bones of the pitch down, the quicker you could work on perfecting it. Aki was on budgeting as always - pricing presentation materials, researching and pricing the estimated budget for the product rollout for Nike.

Cindy was mostly on recon regarding the target audience. The product being launched was a new pair of their iconic AirMax, so you anticipated her using historical data as a guideline.

You’d have to do a fair bit of research yourself - getting into market research, the brand’s positioning and messaging - all while putting your firm’s spin on where you think Nike is hoping to go with this launch.

It was needless to say that the midnight oil would be burning. You set up a co-working space in the conference room to make communication seamless in brainstorming and building. This was the energy you missed so much, and a more sentimental reason behind your expansion.

Back home in Amadora, Bana was a well oiled machine. With a strong staff beside you, the hands on aspects of marketing were placed on the back burner by your own doing. In order for your employees to grow, you had to let them lead projects of their own and you trusted them to do so.

Now, you were back to inhaling concerning amounts of dry erase marker fumes and getting carpal tunnel from extensive mood boarding. That along with a side of meal deliveries and an equally as hard-working coffee machine made the long hours seemingly fly by.

“I’m so tapped, I need to power down for the day.” Aki stretched her back dramatically.

“Feel free to head out too, Cindy. Get some well deserved rest.” You took a moment of your own to release tension in your neck. “I’m good here for the next few hours.”

She was visibly grateful to be given the go ahead to clock out. From past experiences, you were able to sympathize all too well. You also made a mental note to have a conversation with her regarding working hours. There was never going to be an obligation of staying behind under your watch.

Cindy and Aki neatly organized materials for their return in the morning while you made your way to your office to continue outlining. With all of the research required collected, all you had to do at this point was place the information into their allocated areas.

There were three short raps at your door before you called her in.

“Still being here wasn’t exactly what I meant by rest, Cindy.” You chuckled, not looking away from your monitors.

“I’m on my way out now! Just wanted to bring you over the client mailing list I got from my source a minute ago.” She slid a USB drive onto your desk.

Your brows raised appreciatively, “Thank you, really. I mean it when I say that your presence here is essential and invaluable.”

Cindy waved a hand, her head shaking in time.

“I’m just happy to be helpful. See you tomorrow!”

You bid her goodbye and immediately got to taking a look at the information she left behind. It would be very useful in filling in some gaps you needed to flush out ideas that would attract the goal audience for the new product.

Influencers, Performing Artists, YouTubers…Athletes.

The last of those categories was obviously a given considering the brand. It also wasn’t the first time you’d come across that group in your line of work. This time though, seeing the label suddenly formed a knot in your stomach.

You were brought back to all of the avoidance in the aftermath - everyone in your life completely air-gapping the football world from your path. They did that to protect you, a gesture you still couldn’t bring yourself to thank them for verbally.

The mouse beneath your hot palm slowly shifted as you moved the cursor to click and expand the list. That knot grew to the size of a boulder. It squeezed your insides painfully within and forced a broken little noise past your lips.

One look at the name Ruben Dias was all it took to rattle you to your core.

o passado

At the age of seven, you moved to Portugal.

There wasn’t much you missed about your hometown, or even remembered for that matter. All you knew was that you were eerily calm for a child whose entire life up until that point had been uprooted. It was possible that your serene state of mind came from your mom.

She was all you had in the world. There was virtually no relationship had with her family - the only photograph you ever had with your grandparents was at your christening.

When it came to your dad, she put it as kindly as she could for a kid. You were smart enough to read the inference in her tone and the look on her face in the handful of moments he was brought up. He wasn’t in your life because he didn’t want to be.

Yet still, none of that made you sad or shaped you into a person defined by traumas. You intended to live the life that your mother encouraged you to. Be a kid, climb trees and get dirty, make friends along the way.

And that was just what you did. The first of them being the girl in your class that waved you over to the empty seat beside hers when you transferred. My name’s Akenna, but I hate it so I make everyone call me Aki instead.

She was the only person other than your mom who made you feel safe enough to confide in, just as easy to talk to as it was to listen to her wild recounts of her own life story.

Aki quickly became a regular in your home and you in hers. The giggles and secrets held in the various forts sprawling from your living room to bedroom would stay under lock and key until long after you both passed.

The next person you met would be the one who arguably shaped you the most. Loud shouts and tussling with a ball in the neighborhood park with his siblings was where you met Ruben. His tattered football rolled to your feet that touched the ground after you’d leapt from the swings.

With a weak kick, you returned it. Ruben shook his head in disapproval before he shot it right back at you. Try that again, with the left this time. You didn’t know if it was anger at being challenged by some random kid or genuine hidden talent, but when you hit the ball with your instep, it flew powerfully and directly into his own.

She’s on my team!

Inseparable wasn’t a strong enough word to describe you two. After finding out that you lived only one house down, he would come to your school to walk with you back home. On many of those occasions, Aki was there too. Your mom would be waiting with snacks and a warning, don’t play too long out in the sun, patifes.

Somewhere and somehow along the years, you and Ruben had become so close that it seemed you two were dating. Ivan jokingly asked one day as you were sharing a vanilla ice cream cone, ew, are you boyfriend and girlfriend? Ruben grabbed your hand, laced your fingers with his, and simply said, yes.

And that was that.

As for when you began to realize you loved him, that was harder to pinpoint. Maybe it came once you began to notice how helpful he was to you and your mom.

Ruben was always willing to lend a hand with repairs around your house, even if it meant searching up how-to videos when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Or how he’d go out of his way to walk your mom home when she worked night shifts.

Aki often griped and rolled her eyes at how you two were making her feel like a third wheel. Those complaints were always quickly followed with rebuttals that she’d spent a grand total of fifteen days as a single girl since she was thirteen.

Just make sure my maid of honor dress isn’t fugly at your wedding.

It was all but a given that marriage was pending in the future for you two. Ruben never had eyes for any other girl and you…God, you were terribly devoted to him. Even your posters of Justin Bieber found themselves catching dust in the closet, replaced by a collage of photos you and Ruben had taken together over time.

Five years saw graduations, proms, college acceptances and many, many firsts experienced together. His arms were the only man’s you’d ever laughed in, cried in, slept in. His eyes were the only one’s you saw when you closed your own. His lips were the only thing you wanted to taste on the good and bad days, and everything in between.

So, what happened on September 15th 2017?

To this day, you still had no answers to the why behind that question. Nor could you allow yourself to wrack your brain for them any longer should you want to hold onto your sanity.

As for what. Simply put, it was the worst day of your entire life to date.

On the eve of his debut for Benfica’s first team, an event he’d dreamt of and worked so hard for, one that become just as significant to you by extension, Ruben broke up with you. Over the phone, no less - which added humiliation onto a violent erupting volcano of destructive emotions.

Cold turkey, brutal, cruel. It’s over, don’t contact me, I don’t love you anymore.

There were no warning signs, no moments in retrospect left unturned during your spiral, that could’ve possibly made what you read true. You initially thought it was some sick joke. Maybe one of his teammates had taken his phone. Or perhaps there was some girl that wanted him and was jealous that he was yours, so she decided to play dirty.

It was none of that or the million other scenarios you came up with on you walk over to his home. You came to learn that it was, in fact, not a joke. Ruben meant it when he said he was done with you.

He made that painfully clear as he looked at you standing under the faint glow of the lantern on his front porch through the window. Those eyes you once dreamt of fondly seemingly someone else’s as he drew the curtain and shut off the light.

You don’t recall much of time that passed in the months following that night. Every now and then you’d get flashes - Aki crawling in and out of the bed you temporarily became one with, your mom scooping you up to help you bathe and wash your hair.

It was better that way, you think. A blessing in disguise to not be able to clearly recall the most devastating period of your existence.

When your memory resumed, it always picked up at the same place. You siting with Aki on the steps of an abandoned subway station in total silence.

In your mind, you were there with him years ago when the line was still functioning. The rush of the train brought wind along that rose your hair like lightning was about to strike. Ruben grinned toothily as he smoothed it back, tilting your face upwards.

He said I’d always be home when I was with him. Where am I supposed to go now?

The silence returned even louder following the question that neither of you had the answer to.

Instead, you sat there in it with your best friend and shed the last tears you ever would over Ruben Dias.

o presente

Seven years was a long time.

It came with two college degrees, laser focus and an ability to compartmentalize so strongly that it would terrify artificial intelligence.

Whatever threatened to upend you at the sight of his name was snatched up and contained to be dealt with sometime in the future. You didn’t put literal blood, sweat and tears into your career to let one old wound derail it at such a pivotal moment.

With the same vigor you scrapped up to move on with your life, you poured every ounce of energy you had into absolutely nailing your pitch. Five all nighters, thirty six edits and ten complete run throughs later resulted in Bana being chosen as the firm to brand the newest AirMax.

“I always knew you were a genius, but this project was just,” Aki kissed the air as she took the next left to drive back to your shared building.

“Team effort, Aks.” You mumbled.

The thing about throwing yourself entirely into one project was that when the hard work was done, all the was left was the shit you were avoiding. You could feel it there, gnawing at the back of your head like a mice on a fresh piece of cheese.

“What if we watched an old coming of age movie like we used to on nights like this? Pop out some wine, get in our pj’s…real wild stuff.” She nudged your elbow with hers.

You casted a fond glance at her. Aki would never come outright and say it, but it was her way of checking in with you. The client mailing list was no secret to her since she needed it for the budgeting, so there was no way she missed him being on there.

The mice grew hungrier. Throughout all of your breakdowns and pain, she held all of hers in unselfishly and arguably stupidly. You weren’t the only one who lost someone important to you on that night.

“We do that after product launches. The deal has only just been sealed.” A smile was managed to form on your end.

“Ah…best not jinx it then, huh?” Aki blew a raspberry.

In order to keep her worries at bay this time, something you silently promised to do ever since your senses had returned, you squeezed her arm and doubled down.

“Besides, I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in nearly three weeks. I think I’ll just go for a short run, take a shower and hibernate.”

She nodded, liking the sound of that plan. You would’ve felt proud of your disarming skills had you not known the real reason for her shoulders relaxing. She was looking forward to having the next two days off more than anyone else.

“Don’t forget to text me when you get back.” Aki stuck out her pinky.

“Always.” You locked yours in tight.

The repetitive beat of your feet meeting the ground had the ability to still your mind nearly as much as pouring yourself into your work did. Left, right, left, right, left. When you added in the accompanying swing of your arms, the constant reminder to keep your breath in control and music that made you feel like you could punch a hole through a wall - you were nothing short of a machine.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanism you’d clung to back home. Every day, you’d take to the streets of the new neighborhood you moved to and then to the track at you university.

You’d gotten so good at it that you were scouted to run for the school’s team. Going pro was never a part of your plan, though. You only accepted the offer because it came with a free ride.

A drop of water hit your face, but it was cold.

Your treads slowed a bit as your eyes turned skyward. The clouds illuminated against a murky purplish background with the warning of distant lightning approaching. You refocused and pumped your legs faster. Fucking Manchester.

In between your songs transitioning, you heard a faint rumble. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the sound distorted by the headphones muffling your ears playing tricks that twisted the noise to sound partially human.

Whether it was or not, you weren’t trying to stick around to find out. It was late at night and the weather was going to get hellish soon.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a shadow ripping behind the streetlights - closing in on yours with each meter. Lactic acid built painfully in your muscles as you pushed even harder, breath control thrown to the wind.

It was gaining on you while rain began to fully fall.

Within a matter of seconds, which is all you had, you came to a decision. You were too exhausted from sleep deprivation and being nearly an hour into your run to beat whoever was chasing after you. The only option you had now was to steel your nerves and use the keys in your pocket as a last line of defense.

Your right hand blindly reached down and was met with lint. Terror hadn’t been felt until that very moment. A thousand and one scenarios raced through your mind with you reaching for the ones that would allow you to leave this situation at least narrowly unscathed.

The one you got a firm grip on using the element of surprise to hopefully distract them from whatever intentions they had for an instant. You took one last deep breath before spinning around swiftly and throwing out a fist.

A man in a baseball cap dodged the punch to his credit, albeit not very ideal for you. His balance, however, was in your favor. He slipped on the slick sidewalk and landed flat on his back with a pained groan.

You were the last thing you should’ve been given that you’d been granted an escape - frozen. On your behalf, you would’ve been halfway down the street and barreling towards your building had it not been for the wide eyes staring up at you.

Those eyes…Ruben’s.

[zenkor123]

Tong and Leeg free form

"What sort of poisons do you think would have been added to a Katniss mutt” Leeg says

“Some sort of venom, I Remember this happening with a test subject named 111, they were discussing it and I overheard them mention Cone Snail venom” Peeta answers

“You mean Violetta Johnson” Tong asks

“Who's Violetta Johnson?” Peeta says

“She confessed to having that number and being programmed to kill Katniss when we take the Capitol” says Leeg

“So we've been basing this all on her, haven't we?” Tong

“I think the comparison can only go so far, Violet Is meant to last for longer, and I think Catpiss would have been given harsher treatment” Leeg says

“Oh yeah, I agree, also it's different kind of human mutt attack, more like the one Katniss survived but in reverse.” Peeta says

“Violet is a tracker mutt” Tong says

“I think she can track Katniss’s scent too" Peeta says

"That's been confirmed" Says Tong

Leeg says “We order you on penalty of latrine duty to draw Katniss as Test Subject 123, we can use the drawing anyway we see fit”

Peeta looks at the commander of the training center who nods and points a laser pointer at him indicating a high level order. Peeta makes a quick sketch of Katniss as a human muttation.

Leeg says “no offense but I don't see the muttation, she's like this even without any Mutt Makers”

Peeta “I have a question for you, do you know what happened to test subject 625, he was backup in case I died from the venom, sounded like he was from 2"

“Now draw Catpiss mutt scratching you with poisoned nails” Leeg

Peeta has no choice but to comply

“That's Bruno Stone, they've both been recovering in the hospital wing this whole time, their doing well" Tong answers.

"That's great!" Peeta says

“Pissy would certainly solve our Tracker Jacker problem” Tong continues

“And Look no less uglier” says Leeg

“We have to go, thanks for your courage in telling us this” Leeg says

“And don't even ask us not to roast her, you may have forgiven her, but we never will, she has no respect for you, views you as little more than a subhuman animal” Tong says

“She refused to let me kill myself, Katniss risked her own life to stop me!” Peeta says

“That's only because we would've drown her to death in the latrine” Leeg says

“As opposed to me shooting her? I don't think there's anything that will convince you to leave her alone”

Leeg says "Never forget that your supposed lover and wife left you to fend for yourself. That's why all the children in 13 call her catpiss. Why the fuck does she deserve to be the Mockingjay?"” Replying to Leeg Tong snorts, "It's not you, I think she'll get over whatever is bothering her" Tong replies

Leeg say “Katniss thinks your the freak, the danger, the one its ok to humiliate in front of both squads and disrespect but the only pariah is her, if she abuses you or Annie, in any way, she's taking another shit bath” Tong and Leeg leave to refill their canteens.

"I wouldn't care what Katniss thought of me, even if that were true" Peeta says.

Peeta feels guilt for complying with Leeg and Tong's orders as they walk into the bathroom Katniss is hiding in, with his sketches and leave empty handed.

Peeta stares at the commander of the training center with questions in his eyes then shruggs "all 13 lives as one" he thinks tohimself, "the rumor mill needs fresh meat."

"Are you proud of yourself doughboy?" Gale walks up to him.

"The rumor mill needs fresh meat, I've been ordered to provide it" Peeta defensively replies.

"And you, you were part of the viewing audience while they roasted her" accuses Peeta

"I got you some coffee, you look like you need it" says Gale.

"I do?" Peeta blushes embarassed and takes the canteen of coffee.

[thejojosanctuary]

I just started med school and I can say it is something different surely. Can I get Bruno whose s/o's days suddenly have started filling up with only medical studies? She adores it but also gets easily frustrated cause time, schedules, and self care- thank u

IDK WHEN THIS WAS ASKED BUT I HOPE THAT YOUR STUDIES ARE GOING AMAZING HUN WISHING YOU ALL THE BEST IN WHATEVER YOU DECIDE TO DO!! ♡♡♡

Had an absolute blast working on this one hope you enjoy it~ ♡

======

♡ Bruno is so, so proud of you and all of the effort that you’re currently putting into your studies. It’s a tough field to pursue, and though your commitment to your studies leaves you with less and less free time than you once had, it’s clear you’ve got a passion for the work, and he won’t shy away from letting you know just how admirable he finds it that you’ve chosen a field to study in. The day you got accepted to study at your chosen University he’d taken you into his arms and held you close, with praising words nothing short of adoring as he’s pressed a kiss to your forehead and smoothed a hand through your hair mussed from the mad dash you’d made to tell him the news.

♡ It goes without saying but he is incredibly supportive, and Bruno’s love language is acts of service so he is sure to do plenty for you in the name of supporting your goals and letting you know you’ve got someone in your corner the whole time. He does enjoy cooking, though he doesn’t have the chance to do it as often as he’d like; so when he’s able Bruno will cook for you and help you meal prep foods that you can transport to and from school/work. If your medical field requires a particular placement these meals are an absolute lifesaver when things are so hectic you don’t have time to buy anything for your break. If time allows he’ll sometimes even be able to drop them off for you personally, though fair warning it’ll be hard to ignore the colleagues fawning over how sweet a couple the pair of you make the whole time (because trust me Bruno knows how to play the crowd your coworkers will be congratulating you for weeks for snagging such a caring partner.)

♡ On the times where neither of you have the time to cook he’ll order something to pick up straight from Libeccio’s and bring it home for you both to enjoy. Even if it’s something quick, he wants to make sure that you’re taking the time to get something to eat to give you energy between work and your studies to make them more manageable. There’s nothing worse than trying to get everything done on an empty stomach. Not to mention that he uses this as a way to spend some quality time together with you - he finds a lot of comfort in these little domestic moments together, and it gives you time to both catch up on what's been going on in your respective lives. Brun’s an attentive listener while you talk about your studies, life and everything in between; while he enjoys hearing you chat about what’s going on, he loves being able to spend this quality time with you far more. Whatever you want to talk about he’ll gladly lend an ear if it means getting to spend more time with you. Your time has become a precious commodity now thanks to your studies, and he wants to monopolize on it as much as you’ll allow, giving your hand a gentle squeeze across the table and leaning closer to study the look on your face as you speak.

♡ Will absolutely leave little notes for you - words of encouragement and reminders for all of the little events that you have to look forward to once you’re next free - he hopes that they’re enough to get you through the rougher parts of your day and give you a goal to aim towards once your work is finished. While he would much rather gives you these notes of motivation verbally than over notes, the strict schedule your both currently under doesn’t always leave time for that. Unfortunately, being a Capo comes with many new responsibilities on top of everything he was taking care of before, so he’s away from you more often than he’d like. To make up for it Bruno compensates by communicating through these notes he leaves for you in places you’ll always find them - stuck to your door, or the bathroom mirror, or tacked to the kitchen fridge.

♡ If you’re the type of person who has to study locked away in a particular room he won’t disturb you, though you may occasionally turn away from your desk or computer to find a loving note placed alongside a drink or snack close by that was there before. A little pick-me-up between studies thanks to a bit of sneaky help from Sticky fingers 

♡ Bruno admittedly does get worried that you’re sometimes not taking the time to take care of yourself properly, or giving yourself enough breaks - your work ethic is truly, truly inspiring, but between classes, studies, assignments and everything else it is important to find the time to take a break and enjoy the little things. (ironic coming from the man currently holding the #no1 overworked Capo award this side of the globe, but your rebuttals always seem to fall on deaf ears). God forbid you live with or have any other members of the gang around at the time because he will call in to check on you and if you haven’t been taking care of yourself one of them is absolutely telling Bruno. Trust me the gang love you as their own, and if you’re dating Bruno you’ve already been somewhat absorbed into the little found family they’ve got forming; but if they find you aren’t taking proper care of your mental or physical health while you work? Especially in such a demanding field of study? Yeah you aren’t standing a chance, so staying on top of your wellbeing is important.

♡ Bruno will gladly work around both of your schedules to set aside time for you to relax both on your own and as a couple. Prefers to try and get you out of the house at least once in a while, even if it's only for a small chunk of time. Be it park dates or a stroll through the local shops or taking you out to see friends or family that you’ve been missing since you’ve been cooped up working - just say the place and he’ll do whatever he can to get you there just to see you smile. These days out together aren’t just so he can spend quality time with you however (though they’re a huge part to why he insists on them) - getting away from your usual work setting periodically helps to prevent burnout and allows you to better tackle your problems with a fresh mind and a clearer head than before - the new perspective definitely helps a little and can give you motivation to draw back on when you’re grueling through some of the harder study days.

♡ The little victories are cause for big celebrations. Even if you don’t think there’s anything big worth celebrating, every step forward you take in your studies is a little victory. You’ll find yourself awash with gifts that clearly have your tastes taken to heart - your favorite desserts, accessories you’ve eyed up while out together. Those aren’t the only gifts however, as he will gladly praise you for all of your hard work, peppering your cheeks and lips with kisses as he assures you that, with all the effort that you’ve been putting in, there is no doubt that you’ll succeed, and how proud he’ll be to see your work pay off in the end.

♡ Is especially attentive when exam season rolls around as, understandably, it’s the most intense and stressful times of the year. It would be a lie to say he doesn’t miss you terribly when this time rolls around as even with your schedules leave free time thin to begin with, the time you get to spend together for longer than a couple of hours are few and far between when the exams start making themselves known.

♡ Will help you with your exam prep if there’s anything that you need memorized or have to remember. Bruno is the kind of partner who will read through some of the focus points in your school books and remember them by heart so he can help quiz you through some of the sections you struggle with. Sure, you can always study on your own, and he will leave you to it if you insist on needing the time alone to focus, but just knowing that you’ve got a little support system set up in your partner who’s been in your corner this whole time is a much needed comfort that will truly help in getting you through these exam seasons in one piece.

[ctrlaltsoob]

18. weird - take a hint (csb)

summary: worrying about anything else couldn’t matter less to huh y/n, who cares so desperately at beating the one and only choi soobin in absolutely everything she can. although maybe there are some things than only can take the trophy for first…

or where two people fail to realise that the line between love and hate is very thin, even though they might be the smartest in their studies.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (no smut), empty insults, Fluff . read: soobin not knowing how to deal with his emotions and making a big mess out of it

a/n: i start college soon Gross . so pls bear with me if the updates get a little slow

17. bruno mars | masterlist | 19. #goals

more under the cut [wc. 2.9k]

hosting movie night was not something soobin thought would be on his summer agenda. neither was having you look after his hedgehog or having you sleep in his bed for a good two hours, but he supposes that’s just how it is sometimes. he also didn’t expect to catch himself wondering where the hell you were nearly an hour after everyone else had arrived.

when he opens the door to see you holding a watermelon in your hands, he hopes he doesn’t sound as stupid as he thinks he does in his mind. welcoming you inside consisted of short, awkward sentences, and somehow he ends up kneeling down and untying your shoe laces when you struggle to undo the knots.

“you’re late,” he says, trying his best to not look up at you as he fiddles with the string. he can feel his face burning up when he realises exactly what he’s doing. “everyone else arrived ages ago.”

“was debating whether or not i should’ve come here,” you mumble, eyeing the family portrait hung up on the wall. “i don’t think i can show my face anymore, not after that stunt you pulled.”

soobin makes a face as you finally remove your shoes and follow him into the kitchen. “what are you on about,” he sighs, pulling out a chopping board and knife to slice the fruit.

“you know they think we fucked right?” the way you say it so casually makes his head whip up so fast that he swears he’ll break his neck. he stares at you with an unreadable expression on his face, but you decide to continue despite seeing his grip on the knife tighten. “on sunday? at the housewarming?”

“i know when it was,” soobin replies, slightly annoyed. “so what if they think we did? we both know what the truth is anyways.”

from the corner of his eye he can tell you’re beginning to get frustrated. should he have phrased it differently? maybe, but he honestly couldn’t care less about what your friends think.

“i told you that you should’ve just left it until after they left,” you say unabashedly, and he has to stop what he’s doing so that he doesn’t end up accidentally hurting himself. “now look.”

“it’s not my fault that i needed a charger for my dying laptop? let’s not forget that it was my room — my bed, you were sleeping in,” soobin hisses, cutting the last slice of watermelon a little too forcefully that the sound makes you flinch. “why do you always get so worked up about shit like this? it’s really not that deep.”

“i’m just tired of having to deal with all that, okay? so please, let’s not make things any worse,” you sigh, hands gently wrapping around his forearm. you’re too close to him, and he can feel the heat creeping up to his ears, so he leans forwards on his palms and dips his head to collect his thoughts. “does it really not bother you?”

“of course it bothers me. i just don’t care enough when i know it’s not true, you know?” he lifts his head and looks you in the eyes. soobin immediately regrets it though because your eyes are filled with something akin to despair, and the fact that you’re standing so close makes his brain short circuit. he attempts to swallow the lump in his throat before he speaks. “you need to stop caring about those things, y/n.”

the atmosphere is oddly intimate. he’s not entirely sure what you’re thinking about, but he can see how doubt flickers in your eyes and it makes him feel conflicted inside, like his conscious is telling him to apologise for snapping at you. some part of him wants to reach out and tuck the stray hairs behind your ears as a silent sorry, but he can’t bring himself to do it, not when he knows that doing so could just make more problems in the future.

“i know,” you say softly. the urge to caress your face grows stronger, like your words have put him under a spell. his mind is screaming at him to not move, but the human heart is fickle, and so his hand reaches out anyways. soobin touches you like you’ll break at any moment, his fingers barely brushing against your skin. he watches as your eyelids flutter, hands slightly squeezing his forearm.

soobin thinks you look pretty like this. it’s the only time he’ll allow himself to admit that, but of course he’d never say it aloud. and if having you so near to him wasn’t fatal enough for his weak mind, when you subconsciously lean into his touch, he swears he could die right then and there.

his hand is still softly brushing your hair behind your ear when he speaks. “we should go to the others now. they’re waiting.” it’s a miracle how his voice still sounds clear as he speaks to you, eyes staring into yours. you hum a quiet affirmation, yet none of you make an effort to move. it’s as if he’s enchanted you too, from the way you stare at him with wide eyes.

the sound of someone clearing their throat cuts through the room, and you repel away from each other with the force of a rubber band that’s been stretched so thinly being cut in half. you immediately open the nearest cupboard to you, coincidentally pulling out a plate to compile the cut pieces of fruit on, while soobin coughs and sees taehyun standing awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen.

“we’re about to order food, but if you guys are busy then—”

“no!” your voice rings out at the same time as his, and it makes him cringe because he now realises exactly what you were trying to avoid with your friends. taehyun only blinks, staring at you both with wide eyes that look more mischievous than anything else. he only presses his lips together, a impish look consuming his features.

soobin clears his throat again. “we’re not busy, i mean,” he clarifies, dying a little when taehyun shifts his weight on his feet and crosses his arms. you nod along with him, focusing on making sure that none of the watermelon falls off the plate. “you guys go ahead. i’ll clean up here.”

you turn your head to stare at him, and taehyun watches as you and soobin have a silent conversation with your eyes. it’s not until soobin nods firmly once more that you sigh and take the plate of fruit with you to the others, taehyun immediately jabbing at your side. as the two of you walk away, soobin sighs and begins tidying away all the equipment, regret creeping up on him like a ghost.

what the fuck was he thinking? you two are barely friends, and yet here he was, caressing you like you’re his girlfriend or something. it’s so stupid how his heart is beating abnormally fast, and how his mind just doesn’t seem to get the image of you out of his head. it’s just you, he tells himself as he wipes down the countertop. it’s just you.

as he walks into the living room where everyone else is, soobin sees you curled up on the couch by ryujin’s side. he pauses for a second, contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to grab a piece of fruit from the plate in front of you and risk making the rest of the night awkward. eventually he decides against it and makes himself comfortable on the other couch, ignoring the curious eyes of taehyun.

amidst the bickering going on between all his friends, soobin finds his eyes repeatedly drifting back to you. he’s not entirely sure why it keeps happening, but he knows he needs to stop before someone gets the wrong idea. yet despite all his efforts, heesung kicks at his side.

“what is wrong with you?” he glares, rubbing the area where heesung harmed.

“more like what is wrong with you?” heesung fires back, blinking quickly. he glances back and forth between you and soobin when his friend doesn’t catch on. “i’m beginning to believe the shit i see them say on twitter.”

“fuck off. not you too,” soobin sighs, rubbing his temple because you’ve never been more correct in his life. “it’s nothing. i didn’t even realise i was—”

“oh wow beomgyu is right. it is happening.”

“fucking hell,” this time his sigh is much more exaggerated. heesung watches as he hides his head in his arms and pulls his legs up onto the couch. “i promise you, nothing is going on.”

“are you sure about that?”

“yes.”

“are you really sure? because taehyun—”

“taehyun what?” soobin’s head immediately shoots up hearing his name. the wide-eyed look on his face makes heesung slightly laugh. “if he said anything, ignore him, he’s not telling the truth.”

“i don’t know,” heesung exhales, shifting around to make himself more comfortable. “you did take a bit too long in the kitchen.”

soobin groans, head dipping down to hide his slightly burning ears. “whatever he told you, it’s nothing.”

“nothing is going on with y/n?”

“nothing.”

“what’s nothing?” yeji’s voice cuts through their conversation. despite the innocence of her question, the glint in her eye tells soobin that she may or may not have heard their entire conversation.

“uhh, don’t worry about it,” he says, blinking when she simply nods and passes him the remote. he clears his throat, ignoring the sideways look he sees you give him. “what movies did you guys wanna watch?”

eventually everyone settles down, and before he knows it, they’ve watched two movies back to back. at some point when he makes his way to the kitchen, soobin sees you at the entrance putting your shoes on.

“y/n?” he says softly, catching your attention. he watches as your face reddens when you recognise his voice. “what are you doing? you can’t be leaving now. we still have to watch kiki’s delivery service.”

his words make you smile which leaves a strange feeling in his chest. it’s similar to the one he felt when you leant into him as he tucked your hair behind your ears. soobin has to force himself to not stare at your face, because he’d rather not have a repeat of what happened earlier in the kitchen.

“i know, i know,” you mumble softly. “but i didn’t bring any spare clothes so i can’t sleep over.”

soobin frowns. “yeah, but it’s like,” he pauses and checks the time on the grand clock hung on the wall. “nearly two in the morning. you can’t go home at this time.”

“i’ll be fine,” you say, somewhat caught off guard by his sudden courtesy. “don’t worry about me.”

“i’ll let you borrow something. everyone else is staying,” he pleads, watching as you stare up at him with a million thoughts behind your eyes. “just this once.”

it’s not until after a lengthy silence that you slowly nod your head. there’s an odd sense of pride that he feels after managing to successfully convince you, and so he smiles, both dimples appearing on display. it triggers you to bashfully do the same, ears burning red as he looks at you.

“great,” he says, eyes smilling along with his mouth. “i’ll just put this away and i’ll take you upstairs in a sec.”

soobin makes sure that there’s not a random taehyun in the corner of the room, watching him speak to you as he walks you upstairs. you make ample conversation with him, which he’s grateful for because he’s sure that he would just stay in silence and make everything awkward again. when you sit on his bed, talking about how cute you find his hedgehog, soobin smiles into his wardrobe as he searches for clothes for you to wear.

“he probably shitted on like, half of my mom’s fancy pillows, but he’s so cute i literally did not care.”

“you won’t say that when he shits on your bed twice a week,” soobin grimaces, pulling out a shirt from the numerous piles of clothes he has. “here. this should be good.”

“thank you,” you accept the piece of clothing with a shy smile. “i think ryujin brought a spare pair of trousers so i’ll just use that.”

soobin nods as you speak, fiddling with random clothes so that he looks busy while he tries to think of something to say. “um, i just wanted to apologise,” he starts, turning his body so that he’s now facing you. “for earlier. in the kitchen.”

your face is evidently shocked, and it makes soobin regret bringing it up in the first place. did you want to just forget about it and move on?

“oh right,” you laugh nervously and shift around on his bed. “don’t worry about it. it’s not that big of a deal.”

“yeah i didn’t mean to snap at you,” he says sheepishly, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck like it always does when he gets nervous. “sorry, about that.”

“ohh, you mean that?” your words have him confused, and he looks at you with his brows furrowed. “i thought you were talking about the, you know?”

you bring your hand up to your ear and start tucking your hair behind your ear, mimicking his movements. once he catches on, his face turns a deep red colour, almost the same colour as yours.

“oh, well, i mean, i’m sorry for that too,” soobin blurts out, and he cringes in the process because he definitely could’ve worded that better. “i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.”

“no! no, i wasn’t,” you pause to swallow, and suddenly your eyes are avoiding his. “uncomfortable, or anything like that.”

“oh,” is all he says, before a long silence ensues. he didn’t make you uncomfortable? despite doing all that? friends don’t even do that and yet here the two of you are. “i’m glad then.”

there’s a small smile on his face as you nod, but for some reason you’re still avoiding his eyes. the silence in the room is palpitable, and it doesn’t help that it’s just you two, alone in his room, while the rest of your friends are probably scheming and betting with each other on what you’re both up to. the air is suffocating, and he desperately wants to say something to break the tension, but you alone with him in his room is honestly driving him insane.

“are you tired? do you want to sleep?” he asks, relieved that he noticed you yawning. you shake your head and try to stop yourself from yawning again, but the small laugh that he lets out just shows that you’re unsuccessful.

“shut up,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes as he laughs again. “i’m not sleepy, let’s go downstairs before it’s too late.”

when soobin sees you wearing his shirt, he tries his best to play it cool and not look at you every five seconds. but it’s not the easiest task in the world, especially since you always find a way to involve him in your conversations. it seems like he’s lost his grip on reality lately, because why on earth does his brain keep going back to you?

you’re the centre of his thoughts when you laugh at his jokes, and you’re the centre of his thoughts when you unknowingly compliment him. when he carries you upstairs because you’ve passed out on the floor, your sleeping face is all that’s on his mind. and while the others are spread across the two guest rooms, soobin knows that you prefer to sleep alone, so he rests you in his bed. it takes too much of his self restraint to not run his fingers through your hair and caress your face. mainly because a) he’d probably look like a creep, and b) because you aren’t close enough for that.

there’s a part of him that wonders why he’s being so accommodating to you, especially since you crushed his knee when he came to visit odi at your place. and yet despite all his questioning, there’s a small reason in the back of his mind that links to an incident a few years ago, that might be the reason why he’s suddenly doing all this.

but he’d like to think that it’s just something else.

still, the fact that you snuggled into him when he had you in his arms has his mind going crazy and his heart beating at light speed. so when he finally leaves his room and shuts the door to his parents’ room behind him, he knows that he’s gone insane.

and this reality hits him once he lays down in a bed that’s not his own, because why has he given up his own bed to let you sleep in it? his parents’ bed might be comfortable, but there was literally no proper reason to have you sleep in his bed. with a mind that has never been this distracted before, soobin shuts his eyes like it would shut out the thoughts of you in his head.

falling asleep has never been harder for him.

taglist (open): @bergandysam @beepbopbee @minbit @shwizhies @glyxiebear @lowxkie @rlajjunie

[icouldntfinditsoiwroteit]

Yandere Madrigal Family AU part 3

(F/N) sighed in relief once they finally finished washing all of the wool their aunt had told them to finish cleaning which was something (F/N) was grateful for, since the wool was almost completely clean, so no poop in there, which (F/N) was so relieved for.

"Tired?" She heard Mirabel asked and even if they were grateful about the extra hands, they still couldn't really take the nervousness they felt around not only the two Madrigal's but around people in general, so they just gave a small yes without looking up from the wool.

"....Okay, so maybe we should....put it to dry?" Maribel seemed to be just as awkward.

*This is the WORST!!!!* (F/N) though as they nodded and began gathering the wool in the baskets.

"We have to wring it first and then leave it to dry," (F/N) muttered as they took hold of their cane, the smaller basket, and began leading Maribel towards where the wool was wrung and dried as Mirabel carried the other two baskets.

*She is carrying so much, should I try to help?*

*But what if I fall, it would only cause more trouble,*

*Maybe I should try to make some small talk....but what if she prefers to remain in silence????* Before (F/N) could really say anything they were both already in the spot so (F/N) simply repeated what their aunt had told them as she pointed from one of the full baskets to an empty one and then towards a few crates with a layer of fabric to lay the wool on top of.

"So we need to lay the chunks on this area, wring them and leave them to dry," (F/N) explained as they showed how their aunt had said was the best way, which (F/N) didn't really understand.

*How is there even a better way to wring something??* (F/N) wondered but decided to not question since it got the job done, they both remained in a not so awkward silence thanks to the work but it was only a matter of time before one of them spoke.

"So, what brought you to Encanto?" Maribel asked.

"Well...um, we had an accident and stuff, so we had to come here,"

"Is that why you need the cane?"

"Kind of?"

"Your cousin can shapeshift then?"

"Yup,"

"Can you do the same?" They both still did not make eye contact.

"Not really, but my family has other gifts," Mirabel shrugged.

"What can they do?"

"Oh you know, Luisa has super strength, my mamá can heal anything with her food, the usual.....?"

"Sure, pretty normal," (F/N) couldn't help but comment and they both fell into a long minute of silence.

"Soooo, can you do something?" (F/N) broke the silence this time.

"Not really, but it's okay, I am still a Madrigal,"

"Sounds....nice," (F/N) muttered.

"So, your family helps around the town with their powers?"

"Yeah, my big sister Luisa helps with heavy stuff, but she doesn't let it overwhelm her, Isabella helps with some of the plants that she can grow and my prima Dolores uses her hearing to find lost cattle,"

"What about your uncle and aunt?" (F/N) couldn't help but ask, curiosity winning over their awkwardness.

"My tía Pepa handles the weather with her emotions, but my tío Bruno can see the future, but there were things people didn't like that he saw, so he stopped doing that long time ago,"

"Your tío was who no one talked about then?" (F/N) asked, remembering their aunt mention it one time.

"Yeah....."

"It must have made things difficult when it came to calling for my tío loudly," (F/N) couldn't help but chuckle and Mirabel seemed to find this thought amusing too.

"It caused some really funny mixups," Mirabel smiled at some memories about similar things happening.

"Really, you know some?" (F/N) looked up for the first time as her eyes shone with curiosity before ducking back as she almost finished wringing the wool from her basket.

"Yeah, one time when I came to buy some yarns I called his name from across the street and everyone turned around to say "We don't talk about Bruno," Mirabel retold exited.

"In this place, everyone really knows everyone, huh?" (F/N) asked before getting up with a bit of trouble as they pulled the wool basket up.

"Yup, was it not normal back where you lived?"

"Not really, the city is enormous compared to Encanto so it was more small communities formed by neighbors," (F/N) tried to explain as they started to spread the wool unto the small nets to dry with Mirabel doing the same shortly after.

"I'm guessing anything is bigger than Encanto,"

"Kinda, on our trip here, we found some towns bigger and smaller, so you could say it's average," (F/N) answered.

"But don't take me very seriously, during the trip I was half passed out since the trip was so tiring,"

"Was it difficult?"

"Traveling so far is always going to be tiring, but the fact that there isn't any actual or direct road to get to Encanto, was very tiring, not to mention how I couldn't really help that much, even less than Alicia and she got dizzy at the drop of a hat," (F/N) joked a bit.

"Was it due to your leg?"

"Yeah, I'm still getting used to using my new cane," They gave their cane and leg a look to try and emphasize their sentence.

"Is it painful?"

"Not really, at least not anymore, but I have to still be careful,"

"And.....I think I should apologize," (F/N)'s eyes widened in surprise.

"We shouldn't have been spying on you or your family,"

"Hey, don't worry, besides, I'm the one who roped you two in this mess too,"

"It's not a mess, I'm actually happy I can help since I think the change from the city has to be a big one,"

"You have no idea, I had one of the best sleep since I got here," (F/N) said with a small smile.

"Is the city that loud?"

"Yeah and well, during the night it is a lot calmer but even during the day, this place is just so peaceful, an-" (F/N) was interrupted when running steps came into earshot of both of them.

Soon enough, Alicia and Camilo came into view and ran towards them with clear urgency on their faces as Alicia was pulling Camilo.

"Quick, I need help," Alicia came to a stop, causing Camilo to almost bump into her as she finally let go of his arm.

"What is it, did something happen, did-" (F/N) began to ask worriedly but Alicia quickly answered.

"I lost two of the baby sheep and I need your help," (F/N) was shocked into silence by this revelation.

"I hadn't meant to, but there was a sound that I didn't manage to hear and it scared the sheep and I hadn't closed the pen yet, so when I noticed and managed to calm the other sheep down I saw that two were missing," She explained while gesturing wildly.

"Did any of you see where they went?" Mirabel asked and both shook their heads.

"Weren't you helping her Camilo?" Mirabel asked him with some anger filling her voice.

"What, no, I had just finished my chores and coming here, when she found me, I'm actually just finding out what happened," Camilo explained a bit awkwardly and both (F/N) and Mirabel gave Alicia a confused look.

"I saw him on the way here and I really didn't think about it before I pulled him along, I thought that the more the merrier," Alicia shrugged and (F/N) sighed loudly.

"Alright, putting that aside, we should split up, three of us go looking for them and the other one goes and tells tío-" (F/N) began.

"NO!" Alicia interrupted.

"We can't, tío will be so mad that I lost two of the babies the first time he let me handle them alone,"

"Alicia, neither tío nor tía will be mad with you," (F/N) tried to assure but Alicia seemed too scared of the possibility.

"We could ask Antonio or Dolores for help, one of them could find them," Camilo offered.

"But then my tío or tía could find out, not we need to find them," Alicia said with wide eyes filled with nervousness.

"Please," With this small plead the three became convinced.

"We will try and find them, but if we can't find them in an hour, we will have to tell tío," (F/N) conditioned and Alicia nodded.

"Alright, the sheep must have run off towards the threes, so we could try and lure them out with some food," Mirabel offered and they all nodded.

"Great," (F/N) said sarcastically as they all began to walk towards the pen of the sheep., when they got there, Alicia took out a big bag with food for the sheep.

"So we split in two and cover more ground, Alicia, you go with Camilo to the left, and Mirabel and I will go towards the right, we meet back here in twenty minutes and if we haven't found them we will go deeper but all of us together," (F/N) planned as Alicia filled small bags with sheep food for each pair and soon enough they all separated and began searching.

Mirabel and (F/N) walked around trying to find the lost lambs or to try and bribe them into coming out with food, but they made sure to leave small pieces of food on their path so that maybe one of the lambs would follow it back home.

But soon the twenty minutes ran out and they had not found anything, but they needed to go back, but as they made their way back, they found out that the trail of food had become slightly successful as there stood on the of the lost lambs.

"Hey, there little guy," (F/N) approached carefully the lamb not wanting to scare it away.

"You had us all pretty worried-" (F/N) froze when the small lamb took a step to run away.

"No need to worry, I'm not going to hurt you," (F/N) assured as they slowly even if painfully got to their knees before extending their hand to try and reach the lamb who didn't move back and gave a tiny step forward.

"Hey, are you hungry, want any food?" (F/N) retracted their hand and then offered it back again but this time with a big amount of food, this seemed to convince the lamb as it began to feed greedily and it let (F/N) pet it and use their arm to prevent it from running away.

"There we go, such a good lamb,"

"Mirabel, I'm going to need for you to grab it," (F/N) informed as they looked the lamb over for any kind of wound but Mirabel stood there frozen.

"Mirabel?" (F/N) asked and Mirabel finally unfroze and did as told.

(F/N) then took their previously discarded cane and groaned before getting up.

"You alright?" Mirabel asked worriedly.

"Yeah, my knee just didn't like what I did a second ago," (F/N) said with a small smile as they began walking once more.

"It was cool, how you managed to make the lamb trust you," Mirabel complemented.

"Nothing special, I just bribed it with food," (F/N) waved off.

"But it was, I know it would have run off if it had been me," Mirabel assured.

"Well...thanks," (F/N) finally accepted the compliment with a small smile as they soon came back to their place of meeting where Alicia and Camilo were already waiting.

"Oh thank god that you found at least one," Alicia rushed towards Mirabel before petting the little lamb.

"I'm guessing you two had no luck?" (F/N) asked and Camilo nodded as he walked beside Alicia.

"You don't know where your little buddy is, little one?" (F/N) asked the little lamb not really waiting for any answer.

"One down and one to go, but one of us has to take this little lamb back into the pen," (F/N) informed.

"I can, I already have it in arms after all," Mirabel offered and they all seemed alright with the idea.

"Great, just put in one of the smaller empty pens and we can later put them back with the moms," Alicia instructed before they parted ways, Mirabel towards the lamb's pen and the others deeper into the jungle.

"How did you manage to find it?" Camilo asked.

"We left a trail of food on our path so that maybe it would go back the trail and we found it while going back," (F/N) explained.

"Ugh, why didn't I think about it?" Alicia cursed.

"Because tía Luz has all the brain cells left in the family and I sometimes borrow it on accident," This was able to bring a small smile to Alicia a release some of her stress, which, in turn, made (F/N) happy.

"So, how do we know the other sheep hasn't been eaten yet?" Camilo asked and Alicia's stress doubled.

"Oh god, tío is going to kill me,"

"You had to ask that, didn't you?" (F/N) knew the reason for the question, they could smell it from a mile away and the boy's smile didn't help.

"What, it is true, it's getting dark too, so...." The boy shrugged and (F/N) was about to strangle him but they stopped when Alicia stumbled.

"Alicia, you alright?"

"Yeah, just a bit dizz-" Alicia assured but as she tried to use a branch for support, but she missed it and almost fell over a hole-like area.

"CAREFUL!!!!" Both (F/N) and Camilo said in unison as they moved to catch her, Camilo was able to get to her side as (F/N) managed to pull her and swap their place but (F/N)'s prosthesis got stuck and made them fall right into Camilo who also fell into the hole-like area as he had no support, and they both began to role down before coming to an abrupt stop before they reached the area, with Camilo hanging from (F/N)'s hand as they hang upside down.

It took (F/N) a moment to process that they had come to a stop but when they did they looked up and saw that their prosthesis had become entangled with some vines and branches and was the reason they had come to a stop, they then looked down and focused on the ground, Camilo wasn't that far away from it, he could land fairly safely.

(F/N) sighed in relief before looking back at Camilo who was grasping their arms tightly with his eyes glued shut, but (F/N) really didn't think about that, more concerned with how long would the vines be able to hold on.

"Hey, I think I can drop you," (F/N) said bluntly.

"WHAT?!!!!" Camilo said in protest opening his eyes in shock.

"You're not that far from the ground, you can make it without getting really hurt," (F/N) assured.

"NO!" He protested, holding tighter to their arms and closing his eyes again.

"If you don't believe me, just look down and see for yourself,"

"NO, IS THIS BECAUSE OF THAT QUESTION??!!?!" Camilo refused with his eyes still glued shut.

"Wha-Of course not, I'm just trying to get you to the ground safely-" (F/N) refuted before they felt a small jolt from the vines not being able to handle both of their weights.

"The vines aren't going to hold on forever," (F/N) tried to pressure but he remained still.

*Is he scared of heights?* (F/N) wondered as they felt how Camilo gripped their arms tightly.

*Wait, he can shapeshift, can't he??* (F/N) remembered.

"Hey, listen to me, I know we're still a bit far from the ground, but you can shapeshift into someone tall and the fall will be lesser and easier to withstand, it's a small fall," (F/N) tried to assure him but he was still holding them tightly with his eyes still closed.

*He's terrified,* (F/N) thought with a bit of sympathy and remembered what they themselves had wanted to be back in the accident.

"Or into someone small, then the vines will be able to resist longer and I can find a way to get us to the ground," (F/N) offered, and before they could say anything else, he shifted into a kid almost as in on instinct, it was so fast (F/N) almost lost a grip of one of his hands, but was enough to recover their grip and pull his to their chest, looking at the vines that seemed to be a little less these with the loss of weight.

But (F/N) was still hanging upside down, the only reason they were really able to pull Camilo was thanks to the support of the slight curve of the wall they were resting on at the moment, they looked around and saw a big tree not far from them.

*It looks old and it clearly has its roots well into the ground, so it has to be stable enough for us.....*

*But I would need to swing us to even reach it......*

*Would the vines be able to hold on??* (F/N) worried but when they felt another one of the vines snap and lower them a few centimeters, they knew it was the only option.

They held Camilo tightly with their right arm as they looked for anything that would help them reach the tree without swinging that much and saw a branch that could help, so they quickly used their free hand to try and give themselves more support to try kneel before reaching out for the branch, once it was secure on their hand they were able to kneel better as they began pulling the vines until their prosthesis was free.

*Okay, now I can jump,* (F/N) thought with relief that it had been easy to get rid of the vines, but now there would be nothing to catch them if they fell or didn't make it.

The branch made it so they finally could give their free feet some support for the small jump they would need to give, (F/N) took a small breath as they rearranged Camilo so that he would be hugging their neck, but even if they had tried they couldn't convince him to uncurl his legs, but it would still work since they would be able to use their right arm in case of any emergency.

With this in mind (F/N) made the jump.

Previous / Next

@choclatebabe

[tending-the-hearth]

listen, we all know i have So Many Emotions about Mirabel and Antonio's relationship, and i just need to talk about some of my favorite scenes that i think highlight their relationship perfectly:

Antonio Hiding/Mirabel giving him the plushy: The first thing about this moment that gets me is that Antonio is hiding underneath Mirabel's bed. Not his own. Of course, his bed is pretty much empty and cleared away, but he hid in a spot that obviously only Mirabel knows about (seeing as she knew exactly where he was while no one else did). After she gives him the jaguar plush, Antonio just falls against Mirabel, and the way she watches him just screams how vulnerable they're able to be around each other. She's Antonio's favorite person, and he's her favorite person.

The Gift Ceremony: Antonio saying "I need you" to Mirabel is something I've talked about before, but it's such an important moment, and something that probably meant the world to Mirabel. Antonio doesn't care what everyone else will think, he doesn't care about how things are supposed to go, he just cares that he's nervous, and he needs his Mirabel. And while Mirabel is obviously worried, mostly about what everyone will think, she tosses all that away to make sure Antonio is okay, because he needs her, and that's all that matters.

Antonio offering his room for Bruno to use: Antonio didn't even know who Bruno was. He probably heard that name in passing a few times, but he never met Bruno, of course, and Pepa probably never talked about him due to the memories being too painful. The moment the rats come to him and mention Mirabel's name, he absolutely agreed to help, because even if there's a stranger living in the walls, Mirabel trusts him, and that's good enough for Antonio, and he wants to help his Mirabel.

Mirabel returning to Casita/"All of You": The way they both just reach for each other as soon as they see one another makes me want to cry, because I fully believe Antonio was absolutely terrified when Mirabel disappeared. They've probably been around each other since the moment Antonio was born, so not having her near him definitely was a not-nice change. The way that Mirabel immediately drops down to Antonio's level in the moment, holding onto him, with a look on her face that only Antonio gets, just open and vulnerable, it's so sweet.

Mirabel going to her door: sobbing, crying throwing up, the parallels in this movie make me die. Antonio holds onto her hand the same way he did during his ceremony, but this time, it's him who's encouraging Mirabel to go to her door, he's the one that's leading her, because now she needs him, and all Antonio ever wanted for his Mirabel was for her to get her own door, and now it's happening, and he's just so happy and excited for her, and that's all that matters to him.

TLDR: Antonio and Mirabel are each other's person, and their relationship is one of the sweetest in the movie.

[toaverse]

(two seers au) How do Mirabel and Bruno do their personal hygiene? And how was it when Mirabel started to menstruate? I imagine the situation is very unhealthy if there isn't at least one bathroom in that little room...~ sorry my english, i just used google translator here.

Yeah…you can definitely say that their living situation isn’t quite healthy…

Trigger warnings just in case!: mentions of a bad living inviorment and hygiene, and mentions of menstruation!

For basically the entirety of those 16 years living inside the walls of Casita, Bruno and Mirabel had to be a bit creative with trying to take care of their hygiene, though they could never keep it up...

They would use a private space in the passage halls as a "bathroom", where they could at least wash themselves with an old wet cloth, though they only did that once a month. Brushing, or even taken care of their hair didn't happen until Mira was 8 (Bruno managed to steal a bottle of shampoo which they used a month until it was empty). And brushing teeth was basically non-existent.

Their living conditions and hygiene where pretty horrendous...

So horrendous, that both Mirabel and Bruno got used to the awful smell in the small room because of it...

As for Mira menstruating, Bruno already prepared for that by stealing some packs of pads. He had grown up with a mother and two sisters after all, so why would he worry?

12 year old Mira however, panicked and feared she was going to bleed out to death...

Yup, he kinda forgot to explain beforehand😬

[ahaaaoootblooded]

ok liveblogging or whatever smash rewatch (ep 3 only) while smashed. you get it right ywwwwwwahoooooo

megan hilty i'd do anything for you by the way

seriously why do they make derek so stupid i never understand that no way he listens to karen and he's like yeah she has a better marilyn you're joking right now

derek's accent dayummmmm

the sudden cuts in the first few episodes are hilariously bad why didn't they keep it man the awkward silences were gold

this website i'm watching it one is slow as hell

gonna kms if this buffering website makes me skip over a scene that has tom in it i will never forgive it

EWWW MICHAEL EWW WEWEWEEWWWWW

omg bruno mars music mention listen to silk sonic guysss please

ughh michael no way derek watched this-- actually no you know what with his shit taste i can absolutely believe he looked at michael and was like yeah i need this guy in my musical. the hell

ugh i forgot his last name is swift of all things

TOMMM TOM TOM TOM TOM LEVITT I LOVE YOU TOM

YEHEEEEE TOM

I LOVE YOU TOMMMM TOMMM TOM TOMTOMOTMMTMTM

HIS FACE WHEN JULIA SAYS SHE SAYS SHE LIKES DEREK TOM I WOULD KILL PEOPLE FOR YOU

his eyes are so fucking blue

forgot how weird it is to me sometimes when cborles hair is flat-ish and not fluffy. not to say i hate tom's hair like sometimes i love when it dose the bouncy thing but i like the fluffy hair more

mikeyy swift has a wife and kids michaelll you stupid cunt. and you too julia YOU BACKSTABBING BITCH

omg it's the kid whos annoying from community

i don't get ellis' charcter. like i can't get mad at him it's just confusing to me

julia i literally don't like you.

misster and mrs smith merely the folks next sdoor

strawberry ran out man plum tastes like shit

hey in my fucking country 200 dollars a week is a lot karen

omg derekkkkk. you're accent is so lovely

GANDA NIYONG DALAWA DIBA like not as a ship i feel nothing pero seperately like you're both gorgeous to me

ok i take back feeling nothing toward ellis i'm pissed he took julia's note book but also naiinisan ako kay julia so i can't be entirely angry at him yan nga lang kasi

what the hell am i watching

tf why are you showing us michael and his family and friends and kids that just makes me more angry about him and julia and the whole thing. frank deserved better 2023

so funnaaaay this affair was totally avoidable you empty headed fucks

suck my dick don't ask about her family and don't entertain his quesitons you guys are both stupoid

STOP STANDING NEXT TO EACH TOHER

'YOU SMELL GOOD' GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHUT UP BRO

omg eileen and alcohol i haven't reached it yet but i am looking forward to that bartender dilf guy

those earrings look like shit

mahal kaya ng 50 dollars dito limang libo yan dito ah

TOMMM TOMTOMOTMMTMTOMMM I LOVE OYUUU

I TLOVE YOU TOM

YOU'RE SO CUTE TOMMM I LOVE YOU TOM YOU'RE SOO OSO OSO SO SO O CUTE

oh hes angry!!!! angry face

hehehehehe

stfu julia you know nothing about goodf decisions

OF COURSE YOU'D SAY PEOPLE JUST SLEEP TOGETHER IN THIS BUSINESS AND DON'T JUDGE YOU CHEATER. CHEATER

ok not gonna lie she looks decent with this outfit for once

i truly genuinesly don't give a shit about this rivalry going on between julia and ellis. seriously

idk ellis actor giving cunt. like by that i mean he's being a cunt and i mean that in a good way

hadc to answer a time pressure survery in the middle of watching i am so sorry to the students receiving my paper its[' probably fucked up and wrong in grammar and answers soo sorry

what the hell is this country song. listen it's not that i don't like country i like some but this is just sad

i'km not american or rednecked (whatever that means i still don't get it actually) so i have no fjcking ida what shes one about right now

love you ivy lynnnnnn i mean you're mean to kayn but i'dstill treat you right personally

stove my ass derek i'dve brought her home the second she asked girl

boyl an eig that accent tho

MEGAN HILTY YOUR SMILE LIGHTS UP THE ROOM

TOMMMM HI TOMM SMILEYS WILDE

SING SOME MORE HEHEHEHEHEEE

wish he had a lrgit duet with megan hilty

sorry to debra messing but i would've actually died if he did the right regrtets but wiht megan hilty

Tom you're so pretty i love you tom tommm tomtomtomotomtmmm

tom you're SO GYAUYYYY GAYYY YGAY GAY YOU QUEER YOU'RE SUCH A QUEER

GAY AS HELL

TOMMMMM MOTMO TMMOTOTMMTMMM

THE GASP HIS GASP GUYSYSSS\

toms eyes rolling to the back ofhis head iilwlmm gonna die

bruh i would never. fuck yo guys i'm would never cheat on frank brin d'arcy james chemistry teacher singer. never ever ever

WAIT I CAN PLUG THE WAIITIIITI

https://www.tumblr.com/ahaaaoootblooded/712838762060775424/have-you-listened-to-brian-darcy-james-singing?source=share guys listen to that thanks its the right regrest by brian darcy hames

karens generally meh to me but that's real i'd kill to be a chorus oerson on broadway even once that'd killl\

i don't understand what the ywant me to feel like karen like seriously\

so funny to me when we never ever see thiese friends of karen ever so funny man

ok i hate michaerl but not gonna lie mr and mrs smith is ok actully. not groundbreaking but it'sgood to me

LOVE YOU MEGAN HILLTYYYY LOVE YOUUUU

lol the joe dimagio outfit i don't know what joe actually looks like btw but so hilarious to me in the polay

OMMGMMGMMGMGM BRIAN DARCY FEATURE I LOVE YOU D'ARCYYYYY LOVE YOPUUU

julia you're so annoying

BRIAN I LOVE OYUUUU

FRANK FROM NBC SMASH I LOVE YOUUUUU

TOMMMM I VLOE PYJUIUYUTUOSDFUOIADUFOAJSDOIASOIJ

TOMMMM I LOVE YOU TOM I SERIOUSLY NEED YOU

omg he knows hes watching that recording knowing things

HI BRIAN DARCY JAMESSS AGAIN

love you megannnn love your voice

so 2011 ivy what are you wearing

UGH DON'T LOOK AT EAHCH OTHER YOU"RE RECORDING AND JULIA HAS A WIFE AND KIDS

ok thats okk

[byunbaekby]

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

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

—DAY ONE.

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

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

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You love her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he wants you.

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

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

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

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

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

“You’re giving it up or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST TASTE.

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

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

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

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

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

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

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

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

Does he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want a puff.”

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

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

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

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

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

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” is his response.

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

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

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

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw drops. 

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

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

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just need to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST CRASH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tease me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

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

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

Cocaine. 

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

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

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathless, you nod without words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

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

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

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

Luckily, neither will find out. 

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

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

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

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable. 

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know. 

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left. 

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him. 

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth. 

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin. 

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat. 

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck. 

It’s the cocaine. 

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!” 

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor. 

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—” 

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths. 

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room. 

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case. 

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.” 

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up. 

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life. 

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better. 

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems. 

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you. 

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him. 

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called. 

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods. 

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right. 

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 

But you’re not alone. 

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson. 

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 

[capypub]

Summer Wine (Ch.14)

Bruno Madrigal x Original Female Character

Chapter Rating: T (mentions of alcohol)

(Masterlist)

“A-and then…and then, Felix had to ice his chimbo for a week!” Pepa squealed, laughing loudly as she told the story of the first fight she and Felix had after they were married, “he still has the scars,” she added, essentially cackling at this point.

“I can’t believe you lightning struck your own husband,” Marisol giggled, her cheeks warm and tinted pink.

She didn’t know how long they’d been sitting at the table talking and drinking, but so far they had worked through the bottle of wine and almost all the room. The guaro was half-empty at this point. Julie had been very attentive, keeping their glasses full throughout the evening.

“Ay, Julie told me about Isa walking in on you and Bruno,” Pepa snickered.

“Oh no,” Marisol giggled, blushing, and raising her hand to cover her face.

“At least it wasn’t mamá,” Julie said, her words coming out slower and only slightly slurred, “I thought she was going to throw Augustin out the window…”

“No!” Marisol gasped, breaking into another fit of laughter.

“Mhm,” Pepa nodded, “a week before their wedding, mamá decided she wanted to see Julie in her full dress and mantilla.”

“Who does a dress fitting at nine in the evening?” Julie questioned, starting to blush as she recalled the memory.

“What happened?” Marisol asked, eager to hear this story.

“She came into my room with la mantilla. Augustin,” she snorted, causing the other two women to break out into giggles, “Au-Augustin jumped into the closet and was trying to hide, b-but” she gasped for breath between her laps, “but mamá went straight to the closet to get my dress and saw him half-naked hiding with my shoes!”

“Ah!” the table broke out in careless laughter, all the women laughing so hard they had to take a second to catch their breath.

“I can’t believe you two,” Marisol sighed, her cheeks sore from laughing so much.

As they each finished their glasses, they heard the front door open and shut. Going quiet, they listened, hearing the boys laughing and whispering to each other as they tried to sneak into the house.

“Shhh!” Felix hissed loudly, followed by Augustin tripping on something, leading to Bruno laughing.

The girls looked at each other with knowing smirks. Getting up, they made their way into the courtyard, finding Augustin on the floor and Felix and Bruno leaning on each other as they tried to muffle their laughter in the other’s shoulder.

“Ah, mi amor, you’re still up?” Augustin asked as he struggled to stand, his words slurred much more than Julie’s had been only moments ago.

“Did you have a good night, mi vida?” Pepa asked, going over to Felix who was still trying to calm his laughter.

“Very good night, amor, and you?” he asked, wrapping both arms around her, causing Bruno to stumble.

Marisol was quick, even in her inebriated state, taking a step towards her fiancée to help stabilize him before he ended up on the floor like Augustin. He wrapped an arm around her neck, grinning down at her with hazy eyes.

“Hola,” he said softly, his breath wreaking of cigars and beer.

“Hola,” Marisol copied him, laughing as he tried to focus on her face, “did you have fun?”

“S-sí,” he nodded with a hiccup, “I-uh, I won at tejo,” he said proudly, glancing back at Felix and Augustin who were both being led upstairs by their wives.

“That’s great, mi amor, I didn’t even know you were good at tejo,” she said, brushing the hair from his eyes, feeling how warm his face was.

“I didn’t either,” he giggled, nuzzling into her neck, lightly biting her shoulder.

“Ah, Bruno,” she gasped with a grin.

“You smell good, amor,” he muttered into her neck as he leaned more into her.

“And you smell like the cantina, let’s get you upstairs, hm?” she teased him, turning them towards the staircase.

While Bruno continued to ramble to her about his night, she put all of her focus that her buzzed mind allowed into making sure neither of them fell. Casita was very helpful, shifting the railing and a few tiles along the way when Bruno slipped on a step or Marisol lost balance because he leaned on her too heavily at some points. As they reached his room, trying to contain their giggles, Bruno slipped his hand down from her shoulders to the curve of her ass, giving it a light squeeze.

“Eres muy sexy,” he chuckled with a lopsided smirk, his eyes flicking down to her butt as she opened the door.

“Let’s go to bed, Bruno,” she said with a laugh, rolling her eyes and pulling him inside.

“Chiquita, I am,” he hiccupped, “I’m almost a married man, ¡que escandaloso!” he grunted, stumbling over to the bed, kicking his sandals off haphazardly, one almost hitting one of his rats that had been sitting near the bed.

“Do you need help?” she asked, amused by his antics.

“There’s two of you,” he muttered, staring at her, slouched over like he might collapse at any moment.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smirk. “Arms up,” she said.

“Ah, I like it when you take control,” he giggled, raising his arms like she had asked.

She was able to pull his ruana and shirt off with little resistance. Bruno’s hands began to wander as she worked on undoing his belt. He tried to slip a hand under her skirt, but she slapped his wrist, telling him to behave.

“Sí, mamí,” he slurred with a smirk, only trying to do it again when she had turned around to set his clothes on his bedside table.

“Bruno, I swear,” she muttered, finding the whole thing amusing, “if you don’t stop…”

“Are you going to punish me?” he asked with an arched brow.

“I just might, querido,” she teased him, pushing him to lay in bed while she went and changed into her nightwear, hearing him chuckle and hum keenly.

They did not do anything that evening. By the time she got settled in bed beside him, he was snoring. It was interesting to see him so relaxed, so flirtatious. As she settled to get comfortable with her head on his chest, she could hear Bruno muttering to himself in his sleep unintelligible words and noises.

“I love you, mi amante tonto,” she sighed, snuggling into him, falling into a heavy sleep.

[isabellayourboyfriendshere]

Pepa woke up with a stifled groan. She felt awful! Not her usual type of awful where she felt upset with her Mama because she couldn't control her emotions nor was it a hangover type awful where everything, her head especially, hurt.

It was more the everything was churning in her stomach type of awful and she knew if she didn't find a bathroom SOON then she would need to clean up. Gagging as she felt bile raise in her throat Pepa rushed to the nearest toilet and emptied her stomach of last night's tortillas.

Coughing up the rest of what was in her mouth, Pepa could sense Felix come into the bathroom holding a glass of water. Saying nothing she was grateful for it and took a small sip, shuddering.

"Amor are you alright? This is the third morning in a row I've found you spewing your guts out" Felix observed sitting on the floor with his wife.

Pepa gave a sniff, blowing her nose "I don't know Felix I..."

She had a clue what was happening but she wasn't willing to believe it. From a young age she knew what happened when a mami and papi love each other very much, they took an oath, signed a waiver and the stork would deliver a baby. At least that's what she thought till she found out the actual truth which was, in her eyes, more complicated and gross.

She had held that belief till she was in her early twenties when Felix came along.

Felix was different than the other men Pepa had dated in the past. He was filled with laughter, music, rhythm and dance, he listened to her and didn't chide her when she had a cloud above her head or if she started a drizzle. Even their wedding he described as a "a joyous day" despite the hurricane.

They had been together for five years, courting for three and being married for two. Alma had started to ask about the little pitter patter of tiny Madrigal feet, making Felix choke on his drink and Pepa create a nervous storm cloud. Since then they had avoided the conversation entirely making up excuses when Alma mentioned it.

That was until their fourth year together, Pepa found she actually might WANT to have a baby, her own decision not her mother's. She began to talk with Felix earnestly getting him excited too, the thought of an actual infant becoming one they were both happy with.

Turning to Bruno, Pepa asked for a prophecy to see if their dream would become a reality. He had granted his hermana with a vision, a one of her and Felix embracing, holding a beautiful little miracle sometime in the future. Pepa was ecstatic, hugging Bruno as a rainbow filled the sky. As much as she liked to tease her hermano rata she also adored him even if the rats were creepy.

Telling Felix the good news the couple toasted with some wine, starting with one glass....then two...before ending the night drunk with fermented grapes and love.

That was two months ago.

As Pepa headed to the kitchen, she grimaced as she could smell breakfast, hot chocolate, changua and arepa con huevos. This was definitely odd...she usually loved the smell of food especially Julietta's cooking. But it just didn't sit right with her today, neither, the more she thought about it, the past week. It made her feel nauseous and queasy. She forced herself to eat some though ready for the day ahead.

Julietta was four months pregnant with her and Agustin's first child, a baby girl that Bruno had prophecised to be so beautiful, so perfect, so loved by all. It reminded Pepa of that story Mama would often tell them, the one of la Bella durmiente where a baby was born so perfect the evil witch put a curse on her forcing her into a 100 year slumber.

As she sat down at the table Pepa saw her siblings in deep conversation, only hearing snippets.

"I'm telling you there's another on the way.."

"What are you on about Brunito?"

Pepa cleared her throat, alerting the two adults.

"Pepa!" Bruno smiled, taking a bite of egg "We were just talking about you!"

Pepa raised a quizzical eyebrow "You were? Something good I hope?"

Julietta kissed her sister, pouring a cup of coffee "Let's just say... The nursery isn't going to be just the one baby"

Pepa stopped, a cloud appearing above. What? Was Julietta REALLY implying that she could be.... She shook the thought out of her head as well as the cloud. There was no way she was...

Taking a sip of the coffee Pepa stood up quickly to spit it in the sink. That was vile! Disgusting! It smelt like it had gone off ages ago!

Wait.. wasn't that a symptom? Thinking about it Pepa paled; she had all the symptoms Julietta had when she found out. The irritability, the tender breasts, the heightened smell and sickness.

Bruno was right.

After breakfast she excused herself, feeling a worried cloud appear.

"PEPA!"

She ignored it, knowing it was her mother ready to have a go at her. She wasn't in the mood, she just wanted to find Felix.

"Pepa, I'm talking to you, don't run away.." Alma started reaching out for her daughter only for her to pull away.

"Not NOW Mama!" Pepa said sounding exasperated as she climbed the stairs "I know I have a cloud, at least it's not worse!"

"I know about Bruno's vision."

That made Pepa turn around. She had tears in her eyes "You know?" She whispered feeling it drizzle "Who told you?"

Alma motioned to her daughter "You did, you're carrying yourself differently, you're glowing, I recognise those signs. Oh mi corazon" Alma said, cupping Pepa's face in her hands "If you need anything, ANYTHING, just let me know hm?"

Pepa nodded excitedly "Si Mama, I need to go find Felix... Know where he is?"

Alma pointed towards the courtyard "He's helping Agustin, at least he was five minutes ago"

Pepa squeaked excitedly heading back down the stairs "Gracias Mama!"

Felix wiped his brow, waving as he saw his Pepa run excitedly to him, catching him off guard as she kissed him deeply. "Amor, is everything okay?" He asked looking into her eyes.

Pepa nodded earnestly "It's more than okay mi Vida...in fact.." she placed his left hand onto her belly "We're both okay"

Both...BOTH? Felix let out a shaky laugh as he realised "What...when, how? I mean I know JOW but.."

"I've just found out myself amor...can you believe it? We're going to be parents!"

Felix felt tears in his eyes as he hugged his beloved, a slight warmth appearing. They were going to be a family.

So I wrote this slightly drunk and feeling broody but I think this would be so so cute? Like Felix is super excited to become a Papa and helping Pepa all the way through so when Pepa goes I to labour even when he's not there she FEELS his presence and had Dolores!

[gio-is-writing]

Bucciarati and Abbacchio helping this shy and timid girl he just saved from an abusive family integrate into his gang? Like helping her socialize with them and be friends?

REQUEST: Bucciarati and Abbacchio helping this shy and timid girl he just saved from an abusive family integrate into his gang? Like helping her socialize with them and be friends?

This request has been in my drafts for quite some time but it’s finally getting posted hehe, hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of past abuse (bruising), female reader

EVERYTHING I WANTED

Bruno Bucciarati has a cold and fast calculating mind, a true professional at what he does within the mafia but it’s no secret to those around him that he also has a warm and kind heart to those in need.

The first to know was Abbacchio. Bucciarati came to him because he has suspicions on a new family that moved into the city. Bruno knew everyone and everything in his area and this new family wasn’t your typical domestic family looking for a new start. Abbacchio agrees to take a look for himself and then assures Bruno that he is not the only one that thinks this family is strange to say the least.

A family of three, a middle aged couple with a young daughter. After some time investigating they discover they were indeed right and the couple had some business with some drug trade from another area. Listening to the voices of the town, the old ladies complaining about noise ar night or families from the neighborhood that expressed their worry for the young teen.

“They never go out during the day, not even for grocery shopping!” “It might be my worn out hearing but I hear them screaming every night” “That poor girl, the hell she might live in...”

Bruno has a plan of action and Abbacchio is quick to follow through. They arrive at their house one evening, taking matters into their own hands. These people were the lowest from the mafia so dealing with them wouldn’t be an issue.

They do put up a fight, screaming that they have nothing to do with any drug trade and that they family is perfectly fine trying to push them out but a box is dropped from the kitchen table and it says otherwise. Bruno can see a glimce of a stand retreat up into a hallway and he calls out his stand, with Abbacchio they take out the couple easily.

Inspecting the house everything is old and worn out, just taking up space. Fridge is empty and not a single bag or can of food around anywhere. Bruno remembers the teen daughter and takes off to find her, she must be hiding somewhere after all the noise.

Walking into one of the bedrooms he notices the single bed and an old wardrobe in the corner of the room, door closed but he knew better. Without taking another step he tells Abbacchio to wait outside for him and the blond complies. Bruno reassured her that she’s safe and that he won’t hurt her and somehow she believes his soft tone of voice, nothing compared to the screams she heard downstairs.

“You have a stand don’t you? You were the one who dropped the box.”

She nods and he invites her to join his gang. Offering shelter, food and companionship. She hesitates but accepts, taking his hand and following out of the house and into the car Abbacchio and him arrived in. The tall silver haired introduces himself and notices the slight bruising in her arms but doesn’t bring it up.

“If you ever need anything and Bucciarati is not around, come to me.”

YN notices he is very serious and probably always frowning from the lines in his face but she thanks him for his kindness. Arriving at where ever they were located, Abbacchio is the first to step out of the car while Bruno and (Y/N) stay in the car. He warns her about the possible chaos going on inside and that Abbacchio is going ahead to let them know she’s coming in.

After a couple minutes Bruno steps out and opens the door for her. As they walk into the place she is hiding behind him, there’s a lot of noise but it doesn’t scream violence but instead she can hear laughter. She peeks from behind Bruno and she is met with new faces, young faces with welcoming smiles and reassuring eyes.

She’s dragged away by the pink haired girl and apparently the only other girl in the house. (Y/N)’s scared at first but Trish tries her best to let her know ‘it’s not that bad’ and to let her know that she joined not long ago as well. (Y/N) finds comfort in having a girl companion and even if she is not opening up as fast as Trish is, she feels safe.

Days start passing and everyone tries to get a conversation out of her to which she widens her eyes and takes off running into Bruno or Abbacchio (whichever is near) and hides behind them. The responsible adult then is quick to come to her rescue, Abbacchio usually screams at them to leave her alone and give her space. Bucciarati on the other hand reassures her that they only mean well by getting to know her and invited them to be more careful with their approach to which the others apologize and try to start over in a more gentle manner.

At dinner she sits between Bruno and Trish, the pink haired is whispering to her and they both giggle. Bucciarati smirks and Narancia and Mista whine about girls being so secretive about everything, they want to be part of the fun too! Someone who got her trust fast too was Giorno, his quiet and calm nature is really comforting to (Y/N) and she enjoys her time in his company. While she giggles quietly at Mista’s and Narancia’s misfortunes, she is still wary over Fugo and his rage attacks, staying as far from trouble as possible but under Bucciarati’s watchful eye they start to interact more often, Fugo find her really interesting and discovers she is pretty clever so he offers to teach her more about her favorite subject in the future to which she accepts happily.

(Y/N) slowly but surely made her way into the gang that she now called a family, training with Abbacchio and strengthening her stand with Bruno. She is happy and smiling again every day thanks to these people who had a great sense of justice and showed her that they cared for her more than her own family could and that’s all she ever wanted.

[knifefather]

How about Mista showing Bucciarati some appreciation for mothers day? Maybe some tiddie sucking? 🥰

MMMM BRUNO I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK. You got a sexy noggin, boi. You know that I love me some BruMis mmmmm mmm MMM

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Mother’s Day sexy times, mentions of alcohol, sex toys, nipple sucking, and mommy kink. 18+ only as always!

Everyone in the restaurant was parting ways for the night. The parking spaces in front of Libeccio became more and more empty as the sky darkened. The gang had taken Bucciarati out to dinner as a gag for Mother’s Day, but the Capo took the joke lightheartedly. Everyone provided him with different gifts and tokens of appreciation, and after that, the team enjoyed their favorite food. Abbacchio went all out on purchasing wine, so nobody left the table without having at least one glass (one glass was all it took for Fugo to get trashed). By the time Bucciarati made it to the sidewalk outside, his eyes were a bit unfocused and the smell of the sweet spirits still lingered on his breath. With his arms full, he began walking home. 

“Need some help there, Mom?” came a voice from behind him. Bucciarati turned around to see Mista standing there, his arms outstretched and ready to take on some of the load. He was grinning at his own joke, per usual.

“Very funny. Yes, if you don’t mind,” Bucciarati said, handing him a few bags and opting to carry the rest himself. 

“Not at all.” 

The two men walked side-by-side down the sidewalk. Many families were still lingering around, escorting their mothers and grandmothers into cars and presumably about to head home for the evening. It warmed Bucciarati’s heart to see so many mothers being loved by their children, and vice versa. The thought was tinged with sadness as he thought of his own mother, and the lack of affection that she provided him when she was still around. He went quiet as he pondered this, almost forgetting that Mista was beside him.

“Bucciarati,” Mista said, breaking the ravenette’s train of thought. “When we get back to yours, I actually have a gift I forgot to give you at the restaurant. You’ll still accept it, right?” the beanie-wearer asked, another grin playing on his lips. Bucciarati raised his eyebrow curiously, giving him a look before returning his gaze to the sidewalk. 

“That’s fine. You all spoil me, really,” Bucciarati reasoned. His apartment wasn’t far now, he could see the outline of his building against the darkening sky.  “It’s your day, you deserve to get spoiled, Mom,” Mista joked, nudging his shoulder. Bruno couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re milking it for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

Mista gave him the side eye. “’Course. I could call you Mommy instead, ya know.” 

Bucciarati chuckled. “I might prefer that, actually.” Mista said nothing in response, pursing his lips. Even after Bucciarati looked away, his gaze still lingered on him. The mafioso’s place wasn’t far, and he couldn’t wait to get there and give him his gift. 

.｡.:*☆ .｡.:*☆ .｡.:*☆ .｡.:*☆ .｡.:*☆

“Close your eyes and put out your hands,” Mista requested, his tone giddy. He was excited to give Bucciarati his Mother’s Day gift, almost vibrating in his shoes because of it. He wasn’t sure how the Capo would react, but it was worth a shot.  

“Is this necessary?” Bucciarati questioned, but nonetheless followed his instructions. 

“Duh.” 

Mista leaned forward to where Bucciarati was sitting on the couch. Carefully, he placed a light package in his leader’s hands. When Bucciarati opened his eyes, he beheld the poorly-wrapped gift. Though, the wrap-job was oddly endearing. With deft fingers, he pulled the wrapping paper away. He made a confused face when he looked at what was underneath. Then, his face smoothed in understanding, a flirty grin coming to his face. Mista had gifted him a pair of lovely blue nipple suckers. 

“Well, what do you think?” Mista asked, biting his lip. 

“I’m not sure what these do,” Bucciarati said, feigning ignorance. “Why don’t you help me out?” 

Mista took a sharp intake of breath. His loins were beginning to stir already, but he swallowed and moved closer to Bucciarati. With an unsteady hand, he grabbed the zipper of his jacket and pulled down, exposing his chest even more. Bucciarati’s puffy brown nipples were on display, already hardening from being looked at. Mista shakily opened the toys, taking one of the suckers and giving it a few test squeezes. “They go on you, like this,” he said, applying the toy to his chest. Bucciarati gave a deep, shaky sigh as Mista pitched his nipples with the suckers. When they were on, Bucciarati felt almost winded. His cock began to become more interested, hardening in his trousers while Mista played with him.

“That feel good?” 

“Mhm,” Bucciarati hummed, sticking out his chest for Mista to see. His chest looked so wonderful like that, his nipples erect, his tattoo rippling with every breath he pulled in. “It would feel much better with your mouth on them, though,” Bucciarati whispered, setting a hand on his teammate’s leg suggestively. Mista was screaming on the inside, he felt like he was going to explode. But on the outside, he kept his composure, removing the suckers to make room for something better. 

“You got it, Mommy,” Mista responded coyly, knowing that he was pressing Bucciarati’s buttons. The Capo gave him a heavy-lidded look before guiding Mista onto his lap. Their hearts both raced as Mista lowered his head, latching onto one of Bucciarati’s stiff nipples. He squeezed the other pectoral reverently, groaning from the sensuality of it. His cock was now completely hard and no doubt jabbing into the other man’s stomach. 

“’M sorry,” Mista muttered from his chest, looking up at him apologetically. 

“That’s okay, baby. Keep going,” Bucciarati encouraged. He held the taller man faithfully to his chest, cradling him. Mista shivered in his lap but enthusiastically sucked on his chest, laving over his nipples with a wet and eager tongue. “Keep going for Mommy,” he added, his breath coming in more ragged. This sparked something inside of Mista, because he began to grind against Bucciarati as he sucked on him. With a little ‘pop’, he unlatched before giving his other pectoral the same treatment. 

Bucciarati was eating up the attention, moaning and rutting his chest against Mista’s lips. He ripped off his beanie and instead let his fingers sink into his curly locks, holding him. All the while Mista massaged his tits, squeezing and kneading, having the time of his life. At the rate they were at, Bucciarati felt as if he were going to cum in his pants. “Guido...” Bucciarati moaned, his head lolling on his shoulders. “You’re gonna make Mommy cum... Can you help me? I need just a bit more, baby,” he cooed, moving one of Mista’s hands to his crotch. The mafioso nodded eagerly against his teat and began to palm the bulge between his legs enthusiastically.

It took no time at all for Bucciarati to cum under Mista’s ministrations. The Capo’s body trembled as he reached orgasm, still grinding into Mista’s palm. The gravelly tone of his words had disappeared and were instead replaced by sweet, mewling sounds of pleasure. Mista could have came just from Bucciarati’s moans alone, but he was patient. He unlatched himself from his tits, his nipples littered with little marks from his teeth. Both of the men were sporting wet spots on the front of their pants, varying in severity. 

“Good job Guido, very good job,” the mafioso praised, petting Mista’s hair gently. Mista gave a pleased sigh and nuzzled into Bucciarati’s chest, feeling satisfied even though he didn’t get to cum. On that thought, Bucciarati guided him away and onto his back. Mista’s could hear his own pulse ringing in his ears as Bucciarati peppered his neck in kisses. “Thank you for the Mother’s Day gift,” he said, smirking against his neck. “But I have a present for you, too. Close your eyes and unzip your pants,” Bucciarati said sassily, mirroring Mista’s words from earlier. 

“Is this necessary?” Mista retorted, chuckling at the pointed look Bucciarati gave him. 

“Duh. But, I could unzip them for you, if you’d like,” Bucciarati replied, his eyes sparkling with mischievousness. 

Mista’s eyes reflected the same deviance. “Please do, Mommy.” 

[gubes-sweaters]

Ralvez x Reader (polyam)

Authors Note: I know this is a bit short, but I wanted to get this out soon. I also have finals that I'm studying for so it's a but shorter than most of my fics. I also saw that a lot of people had only Ralvez x Reader smut and I know that's what most people probably want. I just wanted to do something different but I will write that in the near future. I also don't know a lot a lot about polyamory, but I did look up some stuff up just to get a sense of different dynamics. Also thanks to the anon who requested this.

Content Warning: past toxic relationship (very very brief mention), slight age gap

Word Count: 1.2k

Most people are lucky to have a significant other that is perfect for them, so I must have the world's best luck to not only have one but two seemingly perfect boyfriends. We've always worked in perfect harmony. I think Luke and Spencer always appreciated that they could come home to a house that's full of life and not some empty apartment. They get to come home to me and the dogs now. At first, it was Luke and Spencer, upon meeting they clicked instantly. When Spencer went to prison they were already together, but they didn't tell their team because it was so early. Luke had to take some pretty drastic measures to ensure Spencer's safety. It bonded them even more than before. They're so close and that's why when we all started dating I was nervous because they were already so close. I was scared of the same possible jealousy from a previous polyamorous relationship I was in years before. I was also worried because I was only twenty-eight, and they both have a bit on me when it comes to age. Despite all of the possible ways, this could go wrong it didn't. They both treat me with the utmost respect, and we are all truly equal.

Even though I met Luke casually first, Spencer and I are more similar. Luke likes to call us both dorks, yet he's still here putting up with our dorkiness. When I first met the boys they were going through a rough patch. Spencer was yet to be reinstated into the BAU, and he was still getting adjusted to life as it was before. Luke also had to take some time off to help out Spencer and that's when they told the team. Since they had so much free time Luke found a new hiking trail he took Roxy on every day that was pretty close to Spencer's apartment at the time.

I also happened to be new to the area and I decided to take my bloodhound Bruno for a run every Saturday and Sunday. That's where I first bumped into Luke, but it wouldn't be the last. I was running with Bruno trailing behind me only by a little bit. I remember the crisp cool air hitting my face as we both ran on the trail with leaves crunching under us. Once I got into a clearing I decided to take a quick drink break. When I stopped I looked over and saw Luke for the first time. Roxy wasn't far behind him, and she ran right past him. She then turned around stuck her but in the air with her front closer to the ground, and started wagging her tail like she was challenging him.

"Hey come over here show off!" He called out to her. Patting his leg and then adjusting his baseball cap.

I giggled at how he talked to his dog like you would your kid. He must've heard me because he turned to me and flashed a big smile.

"Hey, I'm Luke and this is Roxy," he said before he walked over to me and gestured towards Roxy.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N) and this is Bruno."

"Well, it's nice to meet you two," he says before bending down and scratching the top of my dog's head. Luke must've found a scratchy spot behind Bruno's ear because he started kicking his back leg relentlessly before falling onto his side like a goof. We both giggle, and we find ourselves walking together out to the end of the trail.

"So I haven't seen you here before granted I haven't been jogging here for long either."

"Oh yeah I just moved to the area for my new job and this is my first time going on this specific trail," I tell him.

"That's nice where do you work?"

"I work for CPS, how about you?"

"I work for the FBI the BAU to be specific," he says with a proud smile on his face.

That memory will live with me forever because this brings me to today. I'm in the kitchen cooking with Luke as we playfully bicker as to what we're going to make for dinner. Spencer quickly flips through all of the recipe books and reads off any dishes that we have ingredients for. Luke seemingly gets impatient after a while and decides to kick him out. He's definitely the most impatient and stubborn one out of all of us. I'm the most impulsive and Spencer is the healthy medium that keeps us from spiraling into chaos.

"You know what this is my kitchen. This is basically my personal space. (Y/N) you have your art room and Spencer you have your office. This is my space and now I hereby kick the peasants out." Luke jokingly says as the dogs, Spencer, and I all give him very unamused looks.

"Didn't you hear me?"

"Oh yeah trust me we all heard you. I'm just choosing to ignore you," I spit back and Spencer gets tired of our daily banter about dinner. I know we do this everyday but it never gets old how me and Luke bicker like an old married couple. I know deep down Luke finds it very amusing that I try and fight back a little bit even though it means I never win the argument in the end. I normally end up winning in a different type of way though.

Spencer walks off towards the living room and both of our dogs follow him clearly just as done with the playful arguing. I decide I'm going to start on dinner while Luke is distracted, but I don't get far because as I'm about to reach for the fridge he picks me up by my waist and throws me over his shoulder. I scream and shout as I wiggle my legs trying to escape in any sort of way. The dogs start barking and running around the house, and he carries me to the living room.

Spencer has a horrified look on his face. I can practically hear him thinking about all of the different possibilities of us breaking something. I scream and kick while laughing so hard that I start crying. Luke throws me onto the couch next to Spencer and lets me catch my breath. I start to catch my breath right before Spencer starts mercilessly tickling me. Roxy and Bruno become spectators in me getting tickle torture from now both of my boyfriends. The dogs start to jump on and off the couch as we all start shouting once more. We all take a moment for a breather once more and we all slump over one another on the couch.

"There have you learned your lesson to not mess with my kitchen space," Luke asks after we all stop for a breath.

"Yeah, but only if we can compromise and order pizza."

"Deal"

That's how I spent the rest of my night, with both of my boys and our dogs cuddled up on the couch. Eating pizza and arguing over what movie were going to watch. I swear the bickering really does never end.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist @rexorangecouny @haylaansmi