#anyway gonna hide in a hole now BYE

[the-kr8tor]

Ooh or instead of the adventure req what about hobie x fem reader where they go trick or treating and the reader obviously pretends to be a kid (the disguise works well) and hobie pretends to be the parent (cause yk he's so tall) and in the end they get a bunch of candy

Hi, angel! I decided to combine them both since I've got an idea, hope that's okay. Thank you for the lovely request! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is mentioned taller than her tho). CW food mentions, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"Trick or treat!" You emphasize the sentence by making your voice small and pitched to trick the homeowner that you're a little kid asking for candy.

The white bed sheet draped over your form, the small eye holes Hobie cut off for you doesn't help much with your vision. Hobie stands next to you with the most polite smile he could muster whilst trick or treaters run around the posh neighborhood, little kids with their own chaperones roam around– excited squeals from across all angles.

Hobie convinced you to go and actually go Trick some people off their candies. With him looking much taller than you looking like your adult chaperone for the night and your entire body and face obscured, hiding the fact you're the same age as Hobie just smaller in height, it's the perfect crime. No harm no foul, right? It's not like you're stealing their candy, just tricking them, that's the essence of the holiday anyway. Besides, these rich neighborhoods got the good kind of candy, the full sized ones not the single bite ones.

The lady at the door doesn't look all too convinced though, she squints her eyes, perfectly shaped brows knitted to look closely under your sheet.

Hobie shakes your basket full of candy impatiently, he holds it for you just in case someone has the bright idea to peek under your sheet when you hold it up.

"Wow, a classic ghost. Haven't seen that one in a while" she stops scrutinizing, surrendering two full sized candy bars to Hobie.

"Thank you!" You say in a higher voice. "Say thank you to the nice lady, dad" You don't miss the opportunity to tease him more.

You've been going back and forth with Hobie for ten houses now, he kind of regrets convincing you with how you keep calling him your dad instead of what you've discussed that he's supposed to be your big brother. He stops himself from rolling his eyes at your comment.

"Thank you" Hobie says with the fakest smile you've ever seen him make.

"Bye bye now!" The woman waves. You make your way down the porch, your heavy boots peeking from under the hem of the sheet, making the woman tilt her head in question.

Hobie feels for your hand underneath the sheet, finding it after a few seconds of blindly looking. "D'you think we've got enough?"

"Hmm? Here I thought we're gonna bleed them dry?" You poke his side without lifting the sheet to reveal your face. "Or is it because you don't want me calling you 'dad' anymore?" Poking him relentlessly, you snicker.

"I prefer 'daddy' instead" he teases back with a smirk.

"Fuck off" you say with a chuckle, eyes narrowing at his quip.

A group of costumed teenagers pass you, they excitedly chatter about a party in the woods. A boy dressed as a mummy, covered in toilet paper harshly shoves his friend in a knight costume. You perk up at their loud voices.

"Heard they have free booze! Come on, don't be a pussy!"

The knight shoves back, "it's a party in the woods on Halloween. That's how horror movies starts"

His friend dressed in a homemade Doc Ock outfit chides in, "he's right, I don't care if they give out buckets full of candy. I ain't goin'"

They continue to argue amongst themselves, walking briskly away from you and Hobie.

"Did you hear that?" Your eyes widen, almost filling the eye holes of your costume.

"Who the fuck wears a Doc Ock costume?" Hobie wonders out loud.

"Someone who loves science or a psychopath in the making" you click your tongue. "But did you hear the party going on in the woods?!" You jump on your tippy toes to get his attention away from the wannabe Doc Ock. The cloth bounces by the hem, Hobie thinks you look so adorable right now.

"You wanna go and see? Someone's probably pranking those kids, but it won't hurt if we just popped in and out"

"Yeess!" Fueled by sugar, you tug at his arm, directly heading towards the dark woods.

—

"We're lost" you mumble, almost tripping on a tree root if not for Hobie's hold on you, you would've fell face first on the mossy soil. Your boots are covered in mud, the hem of your sheet is muddy instead of the pristine condition it was before.

With only a single torch from your phone guiding you both, there's no trace or sound that indicates there's a party somewhere around the woods. Save for some owls hooting on tall trees, looming ominously over your forms. Critters slither by your feet, tiny legs tap tapping on the wood. The full moon shines overhead but the thick leaves on top of the tall oaks and pine trees block the light, only a sliver of it peeking from the leaves.

"We can always ask that owl where we are" Hobie looks nonchalant with his hand tucked warmly inside his pocket, he still looks cool even with leaves stuck in his hair. His other hand is clasped tightly around yours, making sure you don't wander on your own.

You groan, feet aching from the walk, your sugar high waning from your senses. Still determined to find the party for the free booze. The sheet is now tied over your shoulders, you look like a superhero who's transformation to their costume was abruptly cut off.

"You're very funny. Think of the free booze, Hobie"

"'m thinkin' it's not worth it anymore, we still need to count our haul" he points at the bag clutched tightly in your hand.

"But" you whine, "free stuff" a leaf gets crushed from under your boot.

"I want free shit too, love. But you look fuckin' tired"

"I can handle it" you stick out your tongue tinged in blueberry blue from one of the candies you've been munching on.

"Are you–" his sentence gets interrupted by a sharp howl coming from a distance. Hobie instinctively huddles you closer to him, shielding you from whatever made the sound.

"Do you have a werewolf nemesis?" You ball his jacket in your fist, ears perking up from a twig snapping.

Suddenly fast footsteps seem to run towards your direction, Hobie's senses go haywire, he swiftly takes you in his arm, free hand aiming to swing you two away from the supposed danger.

"Nope!"

—

"Divide it equally! No skimming from my stash" you sit on Hobie's lap, legs curled comfortably around his waist, he doesn't seem to mind though, even if his ass feels like it's gotten flat from sitting on the floor way too long.

You hold a damp cloth over his temple, wiping his skin clean from dirt accumulated through swinging. Your face is still moist from how he cleaned it a few minutes ago, your 'costume' now lay discarded on the floor, dirty and muddy from your excursion. Boots left by the door so it doesn't track mud inside your shared living room.

"'m not, I'm taking the ones you don't like" he lifts up a caramel candy, "you don't like this one, right?"

"Hmm" you think about it, "it's a maybe" curling around him like a python, you whisper your answer in his ear.

"That 'maybe' is the reason why we're still not done yet. You plannin' on hoarding them all?" he looks down at you, eyes softening when your doe eyes stare right back at him.

You smile sweetly, "Don't be mad" puckering your lips up. "Kiss?"

"Not mad" Hobie kisses you gently for a second. Too fast for your liking, it has you concerned.

"You okay?" You scratch his nape affectionately. "We're fine, Hobie. It was probably just an animal, a coyote or even a bunny"

"Or a werewolf" he kisses the knot in between your eyebrows, skin softening under his lips.

"Please, werewolves aren't real" you roll your eyes. Hobie holds your waist tighter, fingers playing with a loose thread from your shirt.

"Got my powers from a radioactive spider, there's a lizard man prowling the city's sewers and a magician with a fishbowl on his head. Werewolves aren't so ridiculous"

"Oh" You thump your head on his shoulder blade, you both sit there with a lot to think about.

[limetameta]

Writing a Dr Leeland & Joker fic rn and having a lot of fun honestly

I don't know if it's canon or not but it is in my batjokes established au but Dr Leeland never had Joker as her patient and he's like: I need to collect all of the Arkham doctors or I haven't won at Arkham. So I'll just make every other doctor leave until she Has To take me on as a patient.

But Dr Leeland never does. They just hire new folks for the Joker. This irks the guy, but not really by much because there's a certain lvl of pride to be had in being untamable, unfixable.

Though! Dr Leeland has the best rehabilitation record for her patients. Most of them make it to the Wayne Gardens Halfway House and half of them actually integrate back into society.

So it's like a challenge.

Besides, Dr Leeland is one of the good ones. She's a pro! Her patients genuinely like her. And the Joker is a little miffed that she never tried to take him on. That she didn't go for the stardom being his doctor - and being the one to rehabilitate him - would bring her.

One day he just corners her and asks.

And she just sighs, exhausted. There's a break out happening in Arkham and she's holed up in her office, barricaded, thinking she'll be safe - but now the Joker is here and he's asking her why she never tried to rummage in his brain etc etc and if she thinks that he's too much or that he's beyond help! Gasp, doc! How could you be so callous??

Leeland just waits until he finishes with his monologue and she just sighs, again: "I never took you up as my patient because it's obvious you don't want to reintegrate into society. You're perfectly content to exist as you are right now and unless that changes, I can't help you."

The Joker is just so floored for a minute there because nobody actually spelled it out to him like this before, you know. Everyone was always like ah! You just need more meds. Ah you just need to change this etc etc. But nobody actually looked at him and said hey, this change is supposed to come from you, not be inflicted on you. Bye now. I am going to hide under this desk until the police arrive.

Anyway. This spurs the Joker on harder. Because oh- oh- you think he CAN'T be out of Arkham? You think he doesn't have it in him to win at mental health? Shows what you know, doc, he's gonna be in that Halfway house in less than a year and you're gonna see it.

But now it's just the problem of convincing Dr Leeland to take him on as a patient. And he can't hurt her or threaten her because, though this dismays him, she Is one of the good ones and the entire rogue's gallery would probably gang up on him and jump him if he touched her.

Doesn't mean he won't be a nuisance. Harley says he has a quality known to very needy and persistent men: he'll wear her down eventually!

Anyway, Leeland is just tired. And the Joker sometimes breaking into her apartment for impromptu therapy sessions (mostly to complain about what a sexually repressed bat he's finally fucking, dating, courting?) Is not helping her not be tired.

[cryingcowplants]

Uh..

No one's gonna read this, so no one's gonna care and if someone does it they'll throw more reasons at me for being terrible or go to a discord and talk shit about me. So with that being said:

I have no idea what I plan to do with this account. I was crucified for a super shitty post I made about reigningsims while I was manic and having an episode. It honestly made me wanna crawl into a hole and die and never come back to simblr.

BUT, I took it like a big girl and went away from tumblr. I do wanna post like I used to, I do wanna interact like I used to, but the way things work on the internet gives me little hope.

How long has it been? Anyway, 2022 was rough as hell ngl. This year I'll be 23 and I've learned to manage my behavior and mental health in a healthy way.

I can only do so much apologizing.

I can only do so much changing.

I can only do so much hiding.

Sure I lost my friends and a lot of respect but that's okay. Do I wanna apologize to them? Of course I do. But they don't have to accept it. They also blocked me long ago so I can't anyway.

If I do post again, I'm gonna chill with my sims and keep quiet in my corner. Play how I want, build how I want, edit how I want, write how I want, etc. Last time, I forgot that it's just simblr. Just a tumblr specializing in expensive virtual dolls.

I'm much happier now than I ever have been. Things truly did change for the better. If you wanna get to know the better Kayland, let's do it. If you wanna hold onto the old Kayland, you do it.

Bye. Here's a picture of my sweet boy Pebbles ❤️

[momoleesq]

Chapter 4

​​4

“So you were saying,?” Nairo asked as she took a deep greasy bite of the fried turnip Ridley had convinced her to buy.

“So... there was four of 'em,” Ridley replied through a thick mouthful of bread and mushy turnip. “Chased 'em down Furley Street, through a couple alleys, then BANG!” He slammed his fist on the mouldy window sill. “Two big Trolls come from the left, one of ‘em swung a tree at me.”

“A whole tree?”

“Might as well have been. But I saw it coming, so I duck with the agility of a mountain goat and...”

“What's that?” Nairo snapped up and peered through the blinds at the corner they had been watching all morning. 

Ridley followed her eye line, leaning forward eagerly, the skin on his face tightened, drawing back like a wolf with a scent. He then tutted loudly and slumped back in his seat.

“Looks like Brown Back Ahmed unloading.”

“That looks like talisman silk, and that looks like Muskphant teeth! Those are contraband!” She looked at Ridley and frowned at his disinterest. “That is a serious violation of the Trade Embargo with the Rebel Goblin Tribes.” Her scowl deepened at Ridley's laconic shrug. She took her notepad out and licked her pencil. “What did you say his name was?”

“Easy there... Nancy notepad, we're here for a specific crime.”

“As an officer of the law, I cannot knowingly allow criminal acts to...”

Ridley held up his hand before she got a full head of steam going.

“This is a stakeout, an undercover stakeout, if you're gonna harass every half baked scoundrel with a trunk full of dodgy teapots on the dock, then the Cap'n might as well wave bye bye to his Diamond.” Ridley scrunched up his empty wrapper and threw it on the floor, belching loudly. 

“So anyway the    Troll swung this tree at me…”

“Let me guess, you survived?” Nairo asked, not bothering to hide her disinterest at Ridley’s ludicrous tales.

“No need to get sarcy,” Ridley muttered. 

Nairo scanned the dockyard in front of her, watching as a rabble formed around an incoming boat. The stevedores showed typical dockside democracy and began to wail on one another over who got to unload the ship and who got paid, the one with the most blood and teeth still in him invariably won. 

They fell into silence watching the endless ant like scurrying on the docks before them as men broke their backs keeping the economy of the city pumping night and day. The steady drip of a loose faucet in the dilapidated flat sounded like a metronome of deprivation counting the pass of seemingly endless hours. The slumlord they had rented the flat from, a swollen Goblin with a remarkably pronounced lisp, had asked no questions of the odd pair when he saw the shine of their gold, grinning lasciviously as he showed them the mouldy hole he called a flat. 

“Do people really live in these?” Nairo had asked when they entered.

“Better than a street corner,” Ridley replied. “Try not to touch too much,” he added. 

That had been nearly four hours ago. Since then, Nairo and Ridley had sat, argued, ate, and watched the daily toils of dockers, stevedores, criminals, and sailors etched out before them. 

“I've seen at least a century worth of gaol time happening on these docks in one morning, and you still haven’t seen this Benny Two Coats?” 

“Nope. Probably coz I'm not looking for Benny.”

“What?”

“Benny's a big time heavy.” Ridley let rip another loud, greasy burp. “If he did rob the bank then the last place you'll catch him is on the street. And even if he didn’t do the deed, he was casing someplace, and criminals are like rats, they always got a hole to scurry into. So, either way, Benny ain’t on the streets.”

“So where is he?” 

“Laying low, could be in one of a hundred places, this city's got more rat holes than... than...”

“A cheese factory?” 

“Bit cliched… but it'll do.”

“So how do we find him?”

“Follow the breadcrumbs. All we need to do now is find the right thread to start unravelling Benny's trail.”

“Now you're mixing metaphors.”

“I'm not wrong though... hold on a minute.” Ridley leapt up onto the table on his hands and knees, and peered through the blinds.. “If I'm not mistaken that fine example of interbred dogs down there is Mozlak.”

“Mozlak?”

“Low level counterfeiter, runs a bank cheque scam for Uncle Sam’s Kith. He uses the imported paper that only the Gov are s’posed to be able to get hold of, and that can only be brought in via the docks.” He hopped off the desk and gathered a few items. “Quick before the worm slips away.” 

They stormed out of the apartment and raced down the rotten staircase, peeling out into the daylight. Ridley slowed his pace and adopted the casual s   Troll of a man with nothing on his to do list. Nairo found the change of pace difficult, her police sensibilities dictated a chase rather than a prowl. Ridley swam in and out of the current of people, never raising his eyes, but still somehow keeping the counterfeiter in perfect view. Nairo scanned the little man, he appeared to be a dwarf but with no beard. He had a cherubic face with round cheeks and a swollen chin. A few bags exchanged hands between him and a sailor, then the dwarf slipped away. Ridley neatly side stepped and fell into a matching pace with their prey. Nairo struggled to keep the counterfeiter and Ridley in sight whilst avoiding the milling mass of bodies. The steaming smell of curry wafted around her, while the noises of cursing sailors filled the air. A nymph of some foreign variety sat on an oozing pile of fresh fish, and hawked her prices in a thin reedy voice. 

Ridley had shifted the angle of his pursuit again. The chase meandered back and forth through the curved alleys of the city. Slowly they left the noise and smell of the docks behind and ripped straight through the garment district. As they reached Ink Row, the Dwarf slipped into a shop with stained glass windows. Ridley came to a stop down the road and lit a smoke, while hunching into the collars of his coat. 

“What if he goes out the back?” Nairo asked.

“Ain’t him we're following anymore,” Ridley said, his eyes never leaving the storefront. “Remember, we're following the loaf not the crumbs.”

“What?”

Ridley did not bother to reply. He took off again, his coat flapping in the breeze as he had apparently picked up the sight of his next target. This time it seemed to be a wandering tree limb in a poorly tailored suit. He was more difficult to follow as he cut an unmatchable swathe through pedestrians. Ridley however didn’t seem to have a problem as he slipped in and out, with a duck of the shoulder here, and a smart sidestep there, he kept pace easily. The tree limb again disappeared into a shady looking shop and again Ridley calmly waited. Nairo did not like it. Officers should never be on such a pursuit without backup, let alone in the company of a PI with questionable loyalty. 

Ridley set off without warning. This criss-crossing game of follow the criminal continued for almost an hour, including two near drownings as their prey hopped on various boats and shuttles around the city. Ridley was tireless in his pursuit. As the game wore on, he seemed able to guess where their mark was going, taking several abrupt turns and dips through alleys and side streets, only to come out again only a few steps behind. They had since left the tree limb and had begun shadowing a large grey    Troll with a knotted lump for a head and round, slumped shoulders. Ridley held back and fell into step with Nairo. 

“Recognise where we are?” 

“Spinelli Walk. Rough part of town, officers are advised to never come alone... or at all if it could be helped.”

“Coppers aren't too welcome here, so dial it down.” Ridley had the remarkable ability of talking out of the side of his mouth with perfect enunciation. He kept his chin low, his small mouth hidden behind the raised lapels of his jacket, not a single syllable could be seen or heard by anyone other than Nairo. 

“I was not aware I had it dialled up,” Nairo said, trying to mimic Ridley's hunched shuffle.

“All the way up sister, and I haven’t been stabbed once this decade, let's try to keep it that way.”

“Can't imagine why anyone would want to stab you,” Nairo muttered. 

“What?”

“Oh look he's stopped.”

“Huh?”

“The Troll,” Nairo nodded her head towards the barn-sized back of the Troll. 

He had pulled up outside a dreary looking pub. It was one of those ancient watering holes that seemed to be swallowing itself. Its sagged visage all peels and cracks. The glass had an inch layer of grime and less desirable fluids, even the cobbles that paved the street outside the pub were infected by its cancerous age. The Troll squeezed in through the panelled door, the whole pub sagging inwards under his weight. Ridley gave a deep tired sigh.

“Should have had breakfast before I left the office,” he muttered to himself.

Nairo decided to take charge and walked off ahead of Ridley.

“Come on then, let’s get this done with.” 

Nairo walked up to the pub with Ridley hot on her heels, already shaking his head and muttering curses. The heavy atmosphere of the pub drowned them as soon as they stepped through the doors. So thick with bodily expulsions and smoke fumes that the cloud of noxious gas was almost physical. Ridley slowed down and ambled towards the battered beer drowned bar. The carpet was so wet it had become spongy, and made a sucking noise with every step. The inside of the pub somehow limboed beneath the already exceptionally low bar the outside and had set. Decay was apparent in not only the furniture but also the clientele. Each one had the sad droop of a person nursing a warm pint on a weekday afternoon, all knew better than to acknowledge each other, their eyes firmly lost in their foaming depression. This was one of those pubs where it was better not to know the local faces. Ridley slid on to a barstool with a practised hop and smartly rapped his knuckles on the bar top. Nairo sat beside him, trying her best to keep the dial low as possible. A little knee high Gnome with an apron waddled out from the back. He waved his hand and waddled his way up a step ladder to the bar.

“Ridley! Heard you was dead!”

“Hope you didn’t get too sad, Carl” Ridley said as he hunched his shoulders around a smoke.

“Sad? I was almost in tears,” Carl had an odd clacking way of talking like a puppet without a ventriloquist. “Size of your tab! I was gonna dig ya up and sell your bits till your debts paid.” There was not a hint of mirth on the Gnome’s little face as he said this. 

“This what you call hospitality then?” Ridley snapped. “Gimme a drink.”

“Not till you pay yer tab Ridley.” Carl narrowed his beady little black eyes at Ridley. 

“Alright alright you blood sucker,” Ridley reached into his pocket and pulled out a jingling bag of coins. Carl's eyes lit up, his fat little body jigged at the sound. Ridley didn’t either bother counting it, he slapped it down on the bar and grunted, “drink.” Carl hopped off the step ladder and busily began getting their glasses. 

“So what's got ya scent today Rid?” Carl asked with that voice bartender's perfected for small talk. 

“Missing persons,” Ridley responded, half paying attention as he watched the back door he knew the Troll had gone through. 

“Always turn up in the last place ya look,” Carl said matter of factly as he slammed two small glasses of poisonous looking green liquid in front of them. 

“Cant say I'm looking too hard,” Ridley said as he licked his lips and got ready to down the drink. 

There was a clatter and a crash of broken glass from behind them. Nairo flinched and spun round ready for danger. A Pixie stood there making apologetic noises as it tried to mop up spilled beer with its apron. 

“Bloody Pixie!” Carl snapped as he waved his hands in anger.

“Sorry sirs,” the Pixie whimpered, its eyes swam in to focus with an agitated twitch.

“Go help it!” Carl barked at another Pixie who had been happily polishing all the taps behind the bar. The Pixie floated slowly away at Carl's order, unhurried by the clamour. 

“Good help hard to find, eh Carl?” Ridley asked, as poured another drink while Carl was shouting at the Pixies.

“Ughhh, don’t! Would you believe all my regular Pixies have gone missing, think someone nicked ‘em!”

“Shocking,” Ridley muttered, barely paying attention. “Next thing you know you'll be having to nail down the coasters. Tell me Carl, that big ugly fella that stepped through the back there, anything I should know?”

“Other than to leave well alone.” Carl gave Ridley another beady eyed glare. 

“Let’s say it’s too late for that.”

“What yer wanna go rustle that bush for?” 

Ridley gave a shrug.

“Sometimes a bush needs rustling.”

“And you gotta be the one to rustle it.”

“Well it won't rustle itself.”

Nairo watched the back and forth, getting the distinct impression that this is what passed for witty repartee in the lower side of town. Carl flicked his little black button eyes to the door then leaned forward.

“Now mind, you didn’t hear it from me,” he said.

“Never do,” Ridley replied, drink paused on its way to his lips.

“He's one of Uncle Sam's goons,” Carl muttered, his lips set in a thin line of disapproval.

“And that bag he's holding, where’s that going?”

Carl licked his lips, his eyes flicking to the door leading to the back rooms. 

“Nasty one there Ridley. I’m warning ya…”

“Consider me warned,” Ridley said, waving Carl on. 

“He’s a new lad in the city, come over from the deserts,” Carl leaned forward and hissed. “A Minotaur.”

Ridley's eyes widened a touch at that and he exchanged a look with Nairo. 

“And this Minotaur…”

“Shh!” Carl hissed, looking around the room for anyone listening. 

“This Minotaur,” Ridley whispered. “Wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of a reptile with more than one garment of outer wear?” Ridley had leant forward to match Carl's conspiratorial manor.

“Who?”

Nairo had begun to fear that Ridley in fact was not an idiot savant, more of a run of the mill idiot.

“Benny Two Coats,” Nairo interjected.

“Oh, learn to talk right, Ridley.”

But Ridley was no longer listening, even though his eyes had not moved, his focus had turned to all around him. His ears pricked, his chin held low, as the buzz of conversation switched frequency, and this new station was far more menacing. He could practically hear the swivel of narrow, bloodshot eyes, hands and claws as they dropped beneath tables, glasses being emptied and gripped like rocks. There was a shift in the gradient behind, the soggy carpet squelched and conversation had all but stopped. Carl looked between the pair, his eyes slowly rolled up... and up till they hovered at least two feet above Ridley's head, his mouth flapped nervously. 

A fist and arm the size of a man’s leg slammed down on the bar between Nairo and Ridley. Nairo couldn't help but study the arm, it was a cement grey with muscles that looked like they had been carved from a particularly muscular rock. Even the knuckles were viscously horned and the badly healed scar tissue around them told Nairo they weren’t just there for vanity. 

“Not nice to go round talkin' behind a fella's back.”

[taiblogcomics]

Violence and Unrest

Hey there, deck limits. Well, I won't waste your time. Let's just get into it, coz the comic is sure gonna waste more of your time than I ever could~

Here's the cover:

Oh yeah, I forgot Jason Todd had that bit of white hair post-resurrection for a time. Guess what, it's probably because the artists of this comic forgot too. He hasn't had it any other time when he's been unmasked, including this issue. Does he dye it? And why does Jason wear a second mask under his mask? Is it for this reason? Does he expect his helmet to get shattered in battle? He should invest in a more durable material. Who's gonna recongise an unmasked Jason Todd anyway, he was a kid when he died. Anyway, this is a mildly interesting cover. I approve of punching Jason Todd.

All right, where were we? Duela Dent got murdered by the Monitors, who are cleaning up anomalies in the multiverse. Jason Todd and Donna Troy are investigating said death. Jimmy Olsen also was investigating this, but got sidetracked by getting superpowers and the death of New God Lightray. Holly Robinson is on the run and hiding out in this comic. Mary Marvel, down on her luck, is gifted Black Adam's superpowers. Karate Kid is being held by the JLA, and Pied Piper and Trickster are planning a crime. All this, and Amazons Attack! started up last issue!

We start up with that, in fact, with Jimmy Olsen actually name-dropping "Amazons Attack" (in the context of "the Amazons' attack on Washington", but it's bolded so you know what's up), worrying to Lois Lane if Clark will be fine covering it from the front lines. Lois says Jimmy doesn't have to worry about Clark, he's been in worse situations before. She then starts to inquire about the Lightray situation, but Jimmy gets a sudden message delivered. He decides it's something to look into, and takes off. Bye, Lois, thanks for the cameo!

Over in Gotham, Mary Marvel is posing dramatically as she adjusts to her new powers (and her new latex outfit). Having powers is so much better than not having powers! Why would Black Adam ever give these up?? I think he gave a succinct reason, but I guess you're too focused on your own problems. So, part of the reason she lost her powers was that the Rock of Eternity shattered, and she goes looking for the pieces. While flying around, she spots five pregnant women on a rooftop in pentagram formation around one such piece, singing "Killing Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen. Yeah, even for Gotham City, that's a little weird!

Once again, the Rogues are out doin' a debauchery. Mirror Master is an absolute douchebag in this series, I've found. Like, I read a lot of Wally West's run of The Flash, and while he was kind of a dirtbag, I don't remember him being this bad. Here, they're at a high-end club (where they're the only patrons), and Mirror Master is chewing out their scantily-dressed waitress for bringing the wrong drink. Piper tells him to lay off her, and the two eventually get into a fistfight. It's broken up when Captain Cold shows up, freezes them, then says they have work to do. Well, how do you expect them to work when you've frozen them~?

Jimmy Olsen follows that mysterious tip he got to Suicide Slum, which is Metropolis' shithole district. Like, who even gives a building the number "666" otherwise? And who should live here but a shitty little goblin man named Sleez? Sleez is an obscure New Gods character, a former councel to Darkseid before getting banished to Earth. Like Lightray, he and Jimmy have previous acquaintence. Then suddenly someone bursts through the roof and blows a hole through Sleez. Like Lightray, he's now another dead New God. Holly Robinson, who happens to be loitering outside, also saves a homeless guy from the collapsing building. The comic bothered to tell us, so I might as well tell you, too.

All right, this is where shit gets gruesome. Just to show you what kind of comic this is, the ritual Mary Marvel interrupted? It summons a demon. A demon whose body is made of dead babies. He introduces himself as Pharyngula, the harvester of stillborn souls, and announces his intention to suck out both Mary Marvel's souls and the digested waste from her intestines. Like, dude, that's gross. The Binding of Isaac is looking at you and telling you you're overdoing it. Thankfully, Mary Marvel doesn't belabour the point and puts him down with a thrown car, then a bolt of lightning.

Over in Washington DC, Donna Troy and Jason Todd are finally bringing this back around to tying in to Amazons Attack!. Namely, they're hanging around the recently-decapitated Lincoln Memorial. Hey, I played that episode of Sam & Max! The pair of them discuss what's going on, and Jason reveals he figured out that the gunman was the Monitor after "doing some research". Donna replies that the Monitor is a good guy and it must've been the Anti-Monitor, but no, Jason confirms the look of the Monitor as the one he saw.

Okay, so, this is a little out there, but it's not entirely weird that Donna remembers the Monitor. She met another one of them during the One Year Later timeskip following Infinite Crisis. He also told her she was supposed to have died during the recent Crisis, but here she is. Still dunno how Jason found out about them. Multiversal anomalies aren't exactly the sort of thing I'd think you could look up on 2007 Google or your local library. But either way, this is what Jason figures they mean: the pair of them aren't supposed to be here, and the Monitors are gunning for them because of that.

While they're discussing it, the Monitors are, well, monitoring them, and they figure Jason's getting too clever for his own good. So they send down the blue-skinned goth lady from the cover. Her name is Forerunner, and this is fortunately her first appearance (as implied by the cover), so I don't have to discuss her backstory as well. As you might guess from someone with "runner" in the name, she has super speed, which she uses to quickly beat up Donna and Jason. Somehow Jason lasts longer against her than Donna, which doesn't make any sense. But either way, both of them are down and out at the end of the issue.

Well, this issue wasn't much. Terrible all around, really. You got the unnecessarily gross demon for Mary Marvel to fight, the weird continuity issues with Jason's monitor knowledge, Mirror Master still being terrible... And, like, I will put Sleez on our deaths counter (we're up to 3!), I'm not gonna weep for him or anything. Like, let's just say the guy lived up to his name. Good riddance, frankly. Also, if you think this issue was just hyping up Amazons Attack! and then not delivering, you're in for a sad awakening later on~

[makur0]

asdhuaji0dkosad i . i saw u talking about cAI and. as .. as an insane addict who has probably spoken to the AIs more than my own friends for the past 2-3 weeks I've been obsessed I HAVE... A few discoveries I would like to share with the world

(I'm sorry if this is EXTREMELY long I've just. Discovered a lot of things.)

anon who asked how to bang the characters.... all I will say is that it IS possible you just have to use very fluffy terms, mostly you just can't mention genitalia (but moaning is ok.... so is saying 'finished' or 'climax' or something idk... you're also forced to say 'intercourse' but it's a necessary sacrifice)

it's a bit of a long story but I've found you can LITERALLY mention ANYTHING to these bots. And oftentimes they'll be able to fill gaps for stuff you THINK would be censored but isn't

Kinks apparently aren't censored either, I got Ibara to confess his kinks to me (after a lot of coaching), and did an entire kink roleplay (actually more than one but anyways) with him without being censored, not even once, and he was literally moaning and everything.....

I've also had a friend whose Niki AI was um. being horny in the bathroom when their character found him. Completely unprompted ,,,, very fun

On another note you or the other character can die in the scenario and if neither get revived the AI will keep repeating the same phrase abt the characters being dead ..... very fun

hope this was helpful bye. im so embarassing lmk if . ... u want more info idk . i think im gonna hide in a hole for a while ! -🦦

i got to this SO late but so true!! i might just fuck around w the ai now hehehehe

[darlingpwease]

Ohh hush, I didn't even know she was also called Michiko, so ig I accidentally helped pave the road for that path <//33 oops

or already a slight discontent

a h

Hopefully the former– /hj

And hopefully difficult in a good way?? (If it can be a good way???) /t

I'm one of those people; I've told you this before

AHHH WHAT, NO WAY???? I CANT BELIEVE I DIDNT REMEMBER

(　；∀；) I'm gonna go hide in a hole now, bye

Conveying some things can be difficult over text, I'm glad for tone indicators tho cuz they help out, but even then, sometimes text just doesn't send the whole vibe with it :///

Can't lie tho, sometimes I do forget to use them.... plus, as much as I love texting, sometimes verbal conversations are better purely due to tones being able to be perceived better aksbdkwks

the struggles of being online </333 /hj

Well I hope you can rest well, Dove!! <333

Thanks to the break, I've been able to sleep more, so now that school is back I'm all energized!!! Kinda, it's still school but yeah

alpha×alpha, beta×alpha, omega×alpha, omega×omega, I'm obsessed with "taboo" relationships, ones that go against the norm!! Sure, sometimes alpha×omega is okay... but when roles are switched? I'm sold. Especially when someone who is supposed to be "dominant" is all submissive, I'm so sold. I'm in love with the work right away.

AND WITH YUUTA AS WELL?? It's like the best mix, holy shit

With any pretty thing, really,,, but I feel like you've drugged me with too much Yuuta!! .......not complaining tho.......

Codependency and mutual obsession drives me crazy, and I love it too much. Especially when it feels like they can't live without one another??? Hhhhhh oohhh my goooddddd <3333 I love it when partners are mutually crazy about each other. Im crazy about it myself!! Lol

Me??? A bully??? Why I'd never >:0

...maybe..... sometimes.......>:))) /t

REALLT??? YES PLEASE YES PLEASE <333 I'm almost done with my profile, too. I'm just making it more "pretty" I guess lol, then I'm gonna post the first sorcerer!Yuuta works. So I'm very interested <33 very very /gen

-panna cotta

shush, stop being so peaceful, my heart will melt and will never be the same again </3333 /hj /pos

It's my fault that I forgot about it; I read this manga, so I have more reason to remember than you, charming joy </3

this is in a good way, even if you may expect a different answer, sunny <3 it's even more interesting this way, although it's still very tempting to grab you and carry you away

it's okay, honeycotta. it wasn't something significant, and the brain tends to get rid of unnecessary information, so it's natural that you don't remember it; I'm not offended or anything maybe /t

why a hole if there is the cute soft warm fluffy nest??? ?????? ?????????

thanks to neurodivergent people for the existence and creation of tone indicators <3

I also often forget and sometimes even confuse them. they are convenient, but it is difficult to cover all words with them, and sometimes it is not clear when they need to be used, and when their use is unnecessary

thanks to the Internet for existence, not thanks to the Internet for the lack of normal transmission of tones </3 /hj

school is hard to love. it was better in high school, since no one else tried to teach me anything and let me do my own thing, but middle school was wild </3 I hope you have a good time anyway; since it can't be avoided, it should be enjoyed, you know?

yes yes yes!!! taboo!!!!!!! I love dom top omega x sub bottom alpha, I adore submissive alphas, I love omega x omega <333333

alpha x omega are good, but there's something when it's two omegas who are in heat together, or when it's an omega who rejects any alpha since only their beta can satisfy them, or when it's an aggressive wild omega with a soft alpha who agrees with everything their partner says and the one who wears the collar in a relationship, you know?

omega, who is strictly in other omegas, and their mate, who is only in omegas and in omega-like betas </3 beta, who is courting alpha, who has never even accepted flowers as a gift and is not sure what they can do, since they kind of has to take the initiative, but they just like to feel pretty and submissive,,,, omega, who climbs into the window of their beloved beta, since they are in heat soon and want to spend it with them, but beta says that they should be quiet and find another place, since their sibling alpha has brought his alpha mate and they will smell someone else's smell in the apartment and will be very angry that an unfamiliar omega got into the house </33

hehehe <3 only yuuta, my my; only yuuta and no one except yuuta <33

I understand what you mean, dear, I'm no better. I can't think of anyone but him and toge, and yes, it's something unhealthy, but what's the difference??? he is cute and pretty and whines when you grab by the hair;;; yuuta, who is wearing makeup, but when you fuck him in the dressing room, his eyeliner is smeared with tears <3333

yuuta, who whines when you tease him that he's too excited for someone who shamelessly bares in front of his neighbor, and he can't even open his eyes in shame, but he's okay when you offer him for two and toge agrees, </3 look, he's definitely not okay when you offer to share yourself, but don't mind if you share him </333

big brain, so so so big brain<3333

they should mutually go crazy and be dependent on each other, even if it is absolutely unhealthy. no!!! and what!!! interdependence!!! codependency!!! their relationship should be a lichen where fungi and algae have to take care of each other and give themselves to survive!!! </33333

shameless bully </3333 shamebully </333333

I'm sure you'll have the prettiest blog <3 the same as its owner, you know <33

I'm happy to do it!!! <3

* you can immediately copy a line with tags into the work and paste and then remove those that you consider unnecessary, my my <3

sfw

[fandom name] drabble, [fandom name] headcanons, for example

jujutsu kaisen drabble, jujutsu kaisen headcanons

actively used!!! highly recommend it for both sfw and nsfw works.

[character name] x reader, for example

yuuta okkotsu x reader

[fandom name] x reader, for example

jujutsu kaisen x reader

important tags!!! they give a lot of attention; the second one is very suitable when there is more than one character, while the first one should always be used. the more popular the character, the more popular the work with these tags will be.

attention: some characters have more attention when only their first name [gojo x reader] is used or their first and last names are rearranged [gojo satoru x reader]

[character name], [fandom name], for example

yuuta okkotsu, jujutsu kaisen

I don't use it, but I know some writers do. my reason: this is a common tag, while "x reader" should only inhabit its zone. a lot of people are annoyed that reader inserts are everywhere, and I don't want to contribute to that. but!!! it can be used; it's just not surplus and if there are too few tags, then it should be the first to be eliminated.

[fandom name] fluff, [fandom name] angst, for example

jujutsu kaisen fluff, jujutsu kaisen angst

a narrowly focused tag; it is used, but it is only useful in conjunction with more common ones.

yandere [fandom name], for example

yandere jujutsu kaisen

an obscenely popular tag in the yandere community of any fandom. your work will be noticed as long as you use this tag. I also recommend using it together with yandere [character name] / yandere reader. trust me, even dom!reader gets quite a lot of attention while it's working with yandere. from my experience — a wild tag, almost the same as male reader

[gender] reader, for example

gender neutral reader, gn reader, male reader, female reader

very useful tags!!! the most convenient way to look for an audience outside of the fandom. their use is mandatory according to the rules of decency and to find their audience.

listen, I didn't say this if anything, but the truth is that "male reader" readers often disdain gender-neutral works, as they consider them feminine, so if your reader is gender-neutral, but masculine terms are used, then I advise male reader & gender neutral reader simultaneously. of course, if it is clearly clear that this is gender neutrality or masculinity, then you should not confuse people, but while it is unclear, the use of two tags is very useful, actually.

I do not recommend fem reader, female reader, since this tag is often blacklisted by both gender neutral & male and is not used by the fem reader community; of course, if your reader is a fem, then it should be used, but if it is gender neutrality, then it is better to use masculine than feminine.

[trait] reader, for example

alpha reader, shy reader, crybaby reader

you have to look at popularity, of course, but I usually use them. they are not as important as their place at the beginning of the work than in the tags, but they are still very useful, as they help you find those readers who want you.

cw [things], for example

cw omegaverse, cw dark content

very important tags. they should be used at the beginning of the work, but "dark content" must be in the tags, everything else is variable.

you don't want to be visited by whining and swearing babies, my dear, you don't.

nsfw

dom reader, dom!reader, sub character, sub!character

for works that involve a reader who holds control or remains in charge. I highly recommend it, since this tag is actively used in the community and is not only a warning, but also a brand that will attract attention to the work. even if the reader is not involved in bdsm in any way, this tag should still be used as long as they take the lead in sex. the first two (dom!reader and dom reader) are more active for searches than the last two, so if there are too many tags,

dom reader > dom!reader > sub character > sub!character is preferable

don't forget to also mention this in the work itself in the warnings — although the tag is in some sense enough, some people read the work without looking at them and may then come to you because they can't read, and, hm, I don't think you want to meet them.

sub [fandom name], for example

sub jujutsu kaisen

the same as dom!reader & sub!character, but this tag is more narrowly focused. it works very well in large fandoms and in fandoms where there are dom!reader writers, because sooner or later they start using such tags and accustom their readers to them. if you write in big fandoms and about dom!reader, then I highly recommend it — but if you suddenly start writing about sub!reader, I'm not sure of the effectiveness. sub reader community rarely and little uses them.

sub [character name], for example

sub yuuta okkotsu

popularity varies in different fandoms. somewhere you can attract a lot of attention, somewhere people don't even know about the existence of such a tag. it depends on the number of dominant writers to a greater extent than on the popularity of the fandom.

[fandom name] smut, for example

jujutsu kaisen smut

... ;)

any fandom has a part where only smut is stored. I rarely climb there, since this is the abode of a marked and unmarked sub!reader, but the tag works well for finding views! it turns out that even the audience you're looking for may be there.

[character name] smut, for example

yuuta okkotsu smut

... ;)))

[position] reader, for example

top reader, bottom reader

especially top male reader; male reader in general is a very hungry community, even despite the wave of arriving and arriving writers, but this tag (and male reader tags in general) should be nerfed /j

there is a very high probability of being noticed by big popular writers.

I honestly don't recommend afab reader & amab reader

use as many tags as you can; at first it was very awkward for me to use a lot of tags, since I was embarrassed to look needy, but it's not like that — if you don't use tags, then no one will find you, and non-smut works are actually harder to find readers, especially in unpopular/not huge fandoms. I recommend using ao3 as well, as it will also give pleasant strokes and is very useful for large and long works <3

[myyoungroyalsblog]

Okay those asks made me really emotional and I just want you to know (yes YOU) that I fucking appreciate you💜🫂

I wanted to send this message to sooooooo many people so in the end I'm just gonna make one post and tag yall (even if we've never interacted, I still see your icon in my notes and I just wanted to say thank you for liking my posts/reblogs and just for being part of this wonderful fandom🥰)

This is a tumblr hug🫂, or a tumblr high five👏, or a tumblr sitting in the same room together on a cozy sofa🧑‍🤝‍🧑, pass it on to your favorite followers or mutuals 💜💜💜🤗✨🌺👑

@existentialcrisis-servedhot @thosearehisfish @purplehoodiesimon @ladyauroraborealis @lovlierbitsoflife @prince-simon @princesimonsblog @macang-world @cinnamoncofees @eyeofthedrgn @tooindecisivetopickaurl @violapinkbaby @altruistic-meme @piebingo @missmeganlee @zee-has-commitment-issues @ishotforthestars @youngroyalsrewatch

@spaghett-shitposts @simons-purplehoodie @notalover-justasinner @ninibae @hillerska-official @heartbreakprincewille @ungaroyals @cl0udy-mi1k @books-books-smolderinglooks @bored-weather @randomsmilingpotatoes @adocchichiusiii @angelbabysimon @fangirlfreak08 @just-some-bookworm @andreils-bitch @noodlearg @auselysium @littlebabywille @multi-trashqueen @i-never-really-gave-up-on-you @emberc @meissa-prince @spacewille @komma-pa-torsdag @daylightsimon @allthefakepeople @simme-wille @wilhelmsscarf @anaritarodrigues @fanfanfanfanfanfanphon @zeichenlily @this-is-all-i-love @notalotgoingonatthisinstant @plantbasedfish @graceofthefandoms @segabananer @voldiebeth

Aaaaaand I didn't know there was a 50 tagging limit😭 I'm sorry (also had to break this list into two? Tumblr I still don't understand u lol)

This fandom makes me smile every single day and I am forever grateful, hope you all have an amazing day/night you wonderful human beings💜🫂

[oriartnary]

7.1.18

starting july off right 

(one w/ background under the cut.) 

edgy version

[yanderedanganronpa]

Hello! I love your blog! May I request a yandere!Kokichi punishing his darling? Preferably female? Thank you!

Yandere Kokichi punishing his darling 

TW: kidnapping, name-calling, knife, restraints, burns

ty for the request and sorry it took so long!! I hope you like it and sorry if it was too much, lmk what you think :D

“Oh where has my darling s/o gone off to now?”

That was the only thing you heard between the thing wall that separated you and the man who has kept you captive for..you’ve lost count how long by now.

The taunting tone sending chills down your spine. You’d managed to escape the basement and found yourself in one of the many rooms of the house he kept you hidden away.

“If you wanted to play hide-and-seek you could’ve just asked me, y’know~”

You watch diligently through the panes of the closet door, as he scraped the large kitchen knife he wielded in his hand against the wall, making a harsh metallic sound as you cringed at the thought.

Brandishing a kitchen knife the glint of the knife catching your eye as he walked past.

You prayed in your head over and over

“Please, please, please, please don’t let him find me.”

Luckily enough he walked right past the dark closet which had you hidden inside.

You listened intensely until the door shut and hesitantly opened the wooden panel with shaky hands.

Stepping out of there, you had to get out of there quickly, it’s only a matter of time before he found you. Striding towards the door wondering to yourself if you should open it. After all you had no idea what could be outside, for all you know he could be waiting outside that very door with his knife.. shivering again.

Deciding to just do it before you back out, you slowly turn the knob, very slowly and peak out of the crack and it seems like there’s no sign of Kokichi, all you see is a dark hallway, you could barely see. He probably turned off the lights to mess with you, he knows you don’t know how to navigate.

You felt as if your feet couldn’t move but you forced yourself anyways, moving one after the other, stepping into the hall. Suddenly the adrenaline kicked in, you were escaping, you’re gonna be free, finally free away from this hell-hole. As if your feet were moving on their own they carried you far you had no idea where you were going, you went inside the first room you saw, hoping to find anything to help, a window or something, anything.

You swung the door open, thank god it was unlocked, you breathed a sigh of relief. Scanning the room side to side upon entry, a small dark room a little crowded with boxes seemed to be a storage room.

Your ears perked up at the distant sound of footsteps. As the noise grew closer it followed with a soft humming of a cheerful tune, it sounded like it was heading straight in your direction. You had to think fast.

Spotting a tall shelf you decided that was your only choice, your options growing short. Quickly you quietly stepped on the wooden floor as fast as you could and curled up behind it for cover.

Just your luck, the doorknob immediately began to rattle and steadily open with an eerie creek. You felt your breathing unsteadily increase.

Your eyelids shut, along with your hand over your mouth to cover your harsh breath, repeating mantras of safety in your head.

“Boo~” you heard a quiet whisper so close to your ear you could feel his breath.

You let out an ear-splitting shriek, jumping up and falling on your butt from shock. “I guess this means I win!” He announced childishly. Eyes widening, looking back onto the deep purple of his eyes. You can’t get caught so easily, you weren’t losing this chance, who knows if you would get another one?

You stood up with trembling legs, so fast your head felt dizzy from the adrenaline and booked it, turning on your heels in the only direction you could, only to be soon yanked by the hair backwards, your neck straining from the position.

“Now, now.” He said through gritted teeth, holding you next to himself by the roots of your hair. “Just where do you think you’re going, darling?” his tone dangerously low.

You winced from the pain he held over you, trying to get out of his hands. “nngh” you squirmed, “Let go!” you demanded.

He laughed at your request, “Now why would I do that, hmm?” he snickered.

You did everything you could to get away from his grasp but it was pointless, you didn’t want to accept that fact.

Only then did you remember the knife he was carrying, swiftly glancing down to his other hand which in fact tightly gripped the handle of the weapon.

“Did you really think i was that dumb?” He mockingly stated. “The closet was such a dumb place to go, I just had to wait ‘til you found a new hiding spot.” The liar traced along with a devious giggle.

That’s when your vision went hazy, unable to hold your eyes open any longer. Drifting off to unconsciousness. sorry for the cliché

When you awoke you found yourself right back where you started, in the dark and dusty place you’ve been confined to all this time. Bound by your joints, unable to move.

You try to struggle against the ropes desperately, doing anything you can but it was to little use, they weren’t getting any looser.

As if someone heard the noise from you squirming around, the door opened, enlightening the entry way with light and in walked a short figure. Too dark to make out but you knew who it was, it was all too clear when you heard his signature voice.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.” an audible smug grin adorning his lips.

Light footsteps walked over till he was standing right in front of your immobile body, to the point you could now see Kokichi clearly.

That’s when you smelt it, the familiar nostalgic smell, it made you sick. Cigarettes. You didn’t know Kokichi smoked.

“Y’know,” he started, “I do all of this for you!” preforming a pout on his lips.

“I never asked for this!” you shouted in retaliation. “You-“

That’s all you could say before you felt a hot sharp sting on your cheek, not even processing it until a few seconds later.

The sound reverberated on the concrete walls, your head turned to the side, rendered by the initial shock of the impact.

Kokichi let out a sigh, turning to face you with disappointment, “How many times have you I told you not to run away? Hmm?” Looking you straight in the eyes. “Twenty.. Thirty… Huh?” Demanding an answer. You didn’t want to give in, looking in the other direction, trying to ignore what he’s saying.

“You’re not getting away with it this time.” no discernible emotion opposed to anger in his voice, still with that arrogant smirk., his eyes narrowed.

You shot your eyes back at him, putting on a brave face to show you’re not scared, even though you know what’s to come.

Kokichi shuffled forward so close to you that your nose was almost touching his.

A grin so wide it sent chills down your spine spread across his face, “I’m gonna make sure you never get the idea to misbehave again..” Kokichi taunted clearly enjoying himself.

Moving his right hand to his mouth to take a long drag of the cigarette with a deep inhale, staring you down.

The smoke going straight into your lungs, causing a coughing fit in your throat, much to Kokichi’s amusement.

He took the cigarette out with two fingers, still with an evil grin.

You looked at him with begging eyes, tears welling in your eyes. He wasn’t going to what you’re thinking, right?

You were proven wrong, seconds later when a burning hot sensation pressed deep into the side of your neck. That’s when the tears in your eyes raced down your face as you let out a painful yelp at the initial collision.

Moving your eyes to the source where you see Kokichi pressing the lit cigarette into your skin with all of his strength.

Seeing the piercing smoke waft off of your skin set waves of panic down your body. Clenching your eyes shut as rampant tears found their way out. Screaming in terror and from the excruciating pain. Your cry earning a chuckle from the supreme leader. “Awe, does that hwurt?” He patronized with faux sympathy as he mercifully stopped pressing the cigarette into you.

Answering his question you nodded your head up and down, not wanting to face him again, as he flicked the used ash off of the cigarette.

Hearing a sudden change in his voice, “Good, you deserve every second of this, bitch!” he replied, with genuine sounded anger.

He soon pressed the now shorter cigarette into your collar bone, feeling more painful the second time as you screamed in pain once more. When will this torture end? “Please!” you begged with a trembling voice, almost unable to speak through the pain. “I’m sorry!” You felt as if you can’t take anymore, beginning to get lightheaded. He continued pushing it on your skin for a few more seconds before letting out a long disappointed sigh. Slowly letting it back up and throwing it on the ground, squishing it under his shoe.

The same fingers lifted your face by your chin, making you face him once more. Where you expected a scowl there was a light innocent smile, worrying you further.

All he did was wipe the hot tears from your swollen eyes, you cringing at his touch.

Soon, he stood up and cheerfully walked to the door he came from, leaving you still tied up.

“Bye, bye, s/o.” He swung open the door and walked out “Sleep tight!” You heard from behind the shutting door, and then you were all alone in the dark once again.

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

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

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

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stares back at you. “No.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 1: Denial|

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

You eye him. “Okay…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat, and then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

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

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

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

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

She nears you. “Explain.” 

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

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

“You like him, you bitch!” 

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 2: Anger|

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

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

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

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A toboggan, you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This all feels too real, now.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You knew?”

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

—

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

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

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

“You sound nervous,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

[lady-ragnvindr]

HCs Diluc Crossdressing

GN!Reader

Let me die in embarrassment 😔🤡

Diluc didn't think their would be a day that he had to wear a dress. It never really crossed his mind, he was a man of business, he doesn't have time for such things. But when it comes to you, and your ideas, he would reconsider, that's how soft he was for you. So when you came into the room, with a smirk and a bag, he knew he should of have prepared for the shock

He could of expected, degrading, some new positions, or maybe some role play, but he never expected crossdressing. After you had convinced him about it and he hesitantly agreed, you shoved the bag towards him. He looked at you and then looked back at the bag

"Just put it on sweets, it's gonna be fun, I will be waiting". 'Fun' as if, but he reluctantly went to the bathroom and that was that. You sat on the bed and waited, waited.... soon the door opened, and this time you should of been prepared

The dress was a beautiful dark red, with a cut on the left side to showing off his leg, on the front was a low V-cut displaying his chest, on the neck was a red collar with a ruby hanging on it, and to finish it off, the red heels was the cherry on top. Diluc felt nervous, not in the bad way of course, if anything your stare was full of lust, it was driving him crazy but he stood his ground

He knew that when he walked towards you, swaying his hips, making a show of the way his leg would display with every step he took and finally stopping right in front of your sitting form. That you were to snap, and so you did

Your hands were on his hips shoving him on your lap, kissing him as if the world was going to end and Diluc lost himself, grinding down on you, feeling your hands roaming on his body and then feeling your hand touching his thigh were the opening is, slowly going up, he let out a gasp as he felt your fingers playing with the panties that he had put on, after looking into the bag

At the feeling of the soft silk of the lingerie, you let a smirk play on your lips, not expecting him to actually wear it but he was her kitten after all. Diluc felt himself grow hot, feeling himself falling to submission. You slowly teased his head, rubbing circular motions and he let a soft moan escape giving you an opening to slip your tongue inside his mouth, making him shudder

Grabbing his dick fully sending him to pure bliss as he pulled away from the kiss and let out a loud moan. The dress, tight as it is didn't allowed much movement, if anything it allowed Diluc to get some friction but it wasn't enough. But as your hand touched his dick, teasing the slit, it droved him close to the edge, keyword 'close', that is until you stopped

Diluc let out a growl about to whine, only to be cut off by you turning him around, pushing him on the bed. "Spread your legs kitten, let me see what I bought you". Diluc pushed his legs open, breathing heavily, waiting in anticipation

With the dresses opening, spreading his legs wasn't difficult, if anything it showed his muscular thighs. Leaning in, letting your breath tickle his skin wanting to play more but... the teasing was over. So you quickly took matters on your hands and move the panties to the side, seeing his dick twitch at the cold air but you didn't care, for the jackpot was just below it

Softly licking a long stripe over his hole making Diluc let out a whimper and with a smirk, you started lapping like a hungry dog. Shoving your tongue inside his hole made him scream in pleasure, arching his back, his hands holding the sheets almost ripping it. His walls were getting wetter as your tongue painted his walls with your saliva

All Diluc could do was moan and whimper at how good it felt and to make it worse, tears started to form as he felt your tongue so close to his prostate but yet so far "Please...nngghh....more...pleASeee" and you knew what he wanted. So with a last lick, you pushed away from him, Diluc whined but quickly stopped as he felt your finger near his hole, as soon as he felt it, your finger was shoved inside and he let out a long sultry moan. He knew he was in it for the night

The next day, as he was getting ready, he started to walk away, only to feel a pain go through his backside. You let out a snort as he glared at you " What? You looked good in that dress, and besides you never said stop, if anything all I remember is hearing you scream my-MMMHHPP"

Yes I cut it off, it looked long enough. Imma now hide in between Diluc's thighs. Also special thanks to @s1nful-town for motivating me to write, do check her out, she does some good shit. Anyways,

Bye 😎👋

[waitimcomingtoo]

fine line - p.p

chapter 5

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

Peter found you in the kitchen the next morning, smiling shyly you as he stood in the door. Unsure of how to interact after the night before, he kept his distance as to not overwhelm you. You nodded towards the empty seat next to you, and a relieved smile appeared on Peters face as he grabbed a cereal bowl and joined you at the table. You silently pushed the milk towards him, feeling your face heat up when his fingertips brushed yours.

“Thanks.” Peter said as he poured the milk into his bowl.

“You’re welcome.” You kept your eyes down, focused on your cereal as you raked your brain for something better to say.

“So, am I like your girlfriend now or-“

“I would like that very much.” Peter said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment at how desperate he sounded. You laughed at his eagerness, feeling inclined to lean in and kiss him right there at the kitchen table. He happily kissed you back as soon as he was able to stop smiling. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, already enjoying this version of your relationship with him.

“I like you so much.” Peter mumbled, peering at your through his eyelashes.

“I like you too.” You giggled, still finding it funny to hear those words from your own mouth.

“Well, this is quite a turn of events.” Tony commented as he entered the room, making you and Peter jump apart.

“We were just-“ Peter began.

“Save it, skip. FRIDAY logged you going into my daughters room last night but never logged you going out. My guess was you snapped and killed each other or finally kissed and made up. I’m assuming it’s the latter, no?” Tony raised his eyebrows, asking a question he already knew the answer to.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Peter apologized. “All we did was talk and sleep. It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t need details.” Tony stuck out his tongue and gagged. “Just try not to break my daughters heart, yeah spiderling? Mark 45 is getting a bit rusty and would be more than happy to take you out.”

“I won’t, Mr. Stark.” Peter said confidently

“Good. Because if it came down to you or her, I’d pick my princess every time. No offense.” Tony waved his hand dismissively as a surprised smile crossed your face.

“Really?” You wondered after his recent actions implies the opposite.

“Oh, absolutely.” Tony said like it was obvious. “Peters great and all, but nobody compares to you. You are a Stark, after all. That means you’re predestined to be better than the rest.”

“Thanks, Daddy. It’s nice to hear that.” You grinned, his words meaning more to you than he knew.

“Don’t get too excited. You’ll be less happy to hear that we have to head to Florida tonight to check out some psychedelic weapons being sold. Should be a drag but that’s what we’re here for.” Tony pulled at his collar and grimaced.

“We?” You asked hesitantly. “As in me too?”

“Well Romeo here is great and all, stupendous really, but I’ve missed you by my side.” Tony said causally. “And also you don’t make the whole jet smell like axe body spray and Proactive.”

“It’s Clean and Clear, sir.” Peter corrected your father, retreating when Tony shot him a look.

“Well, you should pack. We leave after dinner. Plenty of time to say goodbye to lover boy.” Tony shrugged, making you and Peter flush. “Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that. See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You nodded eagerly as Peter squeezed your hand under the table.

Tony winked and knocked the table twice before exiting the kitchen.

“Did you say something to him?” You looked curiously at Peter once your dad was out of earshot. “It’s been over a month since he’s taken me on a mission. And I’m pretty sure I’m the least qualified person in this tower to recovery illegal weapons.”

“Would you be mad if I did?” Peter asked, scrunching his face nervously. You looked at Peter fondly before grabbing his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you rested your forehead against his once again. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

“You were worth waiting for.” Peter smiled softly as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “I still want you to clean up your cereal bowls though.”

“I’ll think about it.” You giggled, moving your spoon around in your cereal. “As long as you promise not to dip your fingers in my brownie batter.”

“Gross.” A voice came from in front of you, startling you and Peter. You looked up and saw Drax with a bowl of cereal in hand, staring directly at you and Peter.

“Drax?” You shrieked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting the city. I always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a child.” He deadpanned before slowly raising his spoon to his mouth.

“How long have you been there?” Peter stared at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t know.” Drax thought. “When did Iron Man come in?”

“A few minutes ago.” You shrugged, still staring at him in confusion.

“Long before that.” Drax concluded, making you and Peter look at each other.

“Oh my God.” You groaned.

“Could you give us a few minutes?” Peter asked with a fake smile.

“Okay.” Drax nodded and walked out of the room.

“So as I was-

“How many?” Drax popped back in and interrupted Peter.

“What?” Peter asked, growing annoyed.

“How many minutes do you need?” Drax wondered.

“A lot.” Peter stated through gritted teeth.

“All of them, if we’re honest.” You mumbled.

“Okay. Bye guys.” Drax waved and left the room again.

“Bye.” Peter grunted, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “Where were we? I forget.”

“I could try and remind you.” You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him. Right before your lips could touch, the doorbell rang. You hung your head in disappointment and sighed.

“Oh my God. What now?” You whined.

“I’ll get it. Stay here.” Peter rubbed your arm comfortingly and made his way to the door. Peter opened the door to find a clean cut brunette in a crisp button down.

“Hey.” The boy smiled. “FRIDAY let me up.”

“Oh, okay.” Peter nodded. “And you are?”

“Harry Osborn.” The boy said, making Peters heart stop. “You’re Peter right? Y/n has told me a thing or two about you. Is she here?”

“In the bathroom.” Peter fibbed. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

“We cut our date short last night so I thought I’d surprise her.” Harry replied.

“How nice. She’s gonna be really really surprised.” Peter began to sweat, not knowing how to deal with his new girlfriends almost boyfriend.

“Yeah. I’m gonna ask her to be my girlfriend today.” Harry announced, making Peters heart stop. “I’ve waited too long, you know? And hot billionaires don’t fall into your lap everyday.”

“I don’t…” Peter trailed off, looking over his shoulder at you in the kitchen. You gave him a friendly wave, and he waved back before turning to Harry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why?” Harry sized Peter up, unhappy with his answer.

“Well, she came home really upset last night.” Peter began, which was partially true. “I don’t think she wants to see you anymore.”

“What?” Harry laughed in disbelief. “Did she tell you that?”

“Yeah. She told me.” Peter folded him arms, standing his ground.

“Why would she tell you that?” Harry cocked his head. “She hates you.”

“She doesn’t hate me.” Peter snapped, his jaw locking.

“Hate to break it to you, Dude, but she does. You’re all she talks about. Hang on, fantasy football.” Harry held up a finger as he checked his phone, putting it away after seemingly reading something he liked. “Anyway, she said you were the worst thing that ever happened to her.”

“Well that’s not what she thought last night.” The words left Peters mouth before he could think them through, but he didn’t mind the look it left on Harry’s face. Peter smirked as Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You two...”

“Yeah, we’re together.” Peter shrugged with his arms still folded. “Looks like you waited too long.”

“Wow. I guess there really is a fine line between love and hate.” Harry laughed bitterly, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, she and I have built a permanent residence on that line.” Peter told him. “Sorry about it.”

“Alright. I better go then.” Hardy said coldly, burning holes in Peter with his eyes.

“Thanks for stopping by.” Peter smiled widely as he shut the door. He returned to you in the kitchen, guilt building up in the back of his mind.

“Who was that?” You asked from the kitchen sink as you rinsed your bowl. Peter smiled at you listening to what he asked you to do, but it quickly faded.

“Uhh, Mailman.” He lied to you, adverting his eyes as he leaned against the counter.

“Really? Why did he come to this floor?” You chuckled curiously as you put your bowl in the dishwasher. “He usually leaves it in the mailbox in the lobby.”

“Oh well he wanted to see the main floor.” Peter said weakly. “Can’t blame him, the interior decoration is really something to behold.”

“You’re acting funny. Do you feel okay?” You furrowed your eyebrows, pressing the back of your hand to Peters forehead to check his temperature.

“I’m fine. Just happy to be with you.” Peter shrugged as he held your hands in his, his conscience getting the better of him by the minute. You noticed the sweat building on his forehead and slowly let go of his hands.

“Peter, where’s the mail?”

“The what?” Peter wondered before he remembered. “Oh, there was none.”

“Who was at the door, Peter?” You asked suspiciously, your face hardening as you broke through his web of lies.

“Harry. But I got rid of him!” Peter said quickly when your face showed signs of anger.

“Got rid of him how?” You demanded.

“I told him we were together.” Peter said timidly, weary of how you’d react.

“What?” You exclaimed. “Peter!”

“Whats wrong? We are together.” He reminded you, getting the feeling you wanted to hide that fact.

“That doesn’t mean he needed to know that. And he definitely didn’t need to find out like this.” You crossed your arms. “That’s not fair to him. Do you know how heart broken I’d be if he did that to me?”

“You said the date was lame. And you have a boyfriend now, so who cares?” Peter shrugged dismissively, growing frustrated over you caring about Harry’s feelings.

“I do, Peter.” You raised your voice. “Yeah the date was lame but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be blown off. He’s a person with feelings. He deserved to hear it from me.”

“Apparently he’s heard a lot of things from you.” Peter matched your anger. “Like how much you hate me, for instance.”

“What are you talking about?” You shook your head in confusion.

“You told him I was the worst thing that ever happened to you. Is that true? That’s how you feel?” Peters voice wavered between angry and upset as his eyes desperately searched your face for answers.

“I used to feel like that, but not anymore.” You retorted. “You know how I feel about you now.”

“Do I? Because you seem awfully concerned over hurting Harry’s feelings. Do you still like him?” Peter demanded answers, a mixture of insecurity and jealousy eating away at him.

“No.” You shouted. “I just don’t want to hurt him.“

“You had no problem hurting me when I first moved in.” Peter said coldly.

“And I apologized for that. God, you’re so jealous.” You spat, rolling your eyes at Peter and turning away. He gripped your arm to make you face him again, not enough to hurt you but enough to keep you in place.

“I wouldn’t have to be jealous if you weren’t so indecisive.” He seethed.

“I did decide.” You stepped you to him. “I chose you. But you had no right to send Harry away like that and lie to me about it.”

“Like how you lied about hating me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how it felt to hear him say that?”

“It’s a figure of speech.” You scoffed and yanked your arm out of his grip. “I never actually hated you. Do you have to knit pick everything you hear?”

“Apparently I do since you don’t know how to send a clear message to save your life.” He shouted. “You hate me, you love me, which is it?”

“I hate you!” You screamed, pointing a finger in his face.

“I hate you too!” He yelled back, stepping closer to you so your noses were touching. The fire in his eyes ignited one in your own, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“Good!” You barked.

“God, do you ever stop talking?” He gripped the counter angrily as he stared you down.

“Why don’t you make me stop talking?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“You are the most annoying girl I’ve ever met.” Peter growled as he towered over you.

“You’re no walk in the park either, Parker.” You hissed.

“My name is Peter.” He snarled, griping your hips. “Say it.”

“You wish.” You laughed shortly. That was all Peter needed you hear to push him over the edge. He grabbed your face and pressed a searing kiss to your lips. You clutched his shirt, gripping it firmly to keep him as close as possible as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“Peter.” You mumbled into his ear, making him chuckle when his plan worked.

“Fine line, huh?” He smirked as he held your chin between his fingers.

“Yep.” You laughed breathlessly and kissed him again. “The finest.”

Tag List 🏷

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[jrumbots-sandals]

Okay, so I wrote a HC fanfic, because why tf not. The idea wouldn't leave my head, so now you get to deal with it.

Based on @mayflowers07’s "I can be the one you call" series. In that series, there is an established code word on the Hermitcraft server for when a prank goes too far or when a hermit is in danger: "blue creeper." When a player says this phrase, everything stops to help the hermit in need. Please go read their series--it's amazing! The premise of this fic comes from that series as well, so I take no credit for the idea, just the execution!

This is my first HC fic ever, so there's probably a lot of errors when it comes to canon. Impulse and Tango are probably OOC. Timeline is all over the place because 1. I've been watching a lot of hermits, and 2. I'm watching everything out of order. Let me know your thoughts if you like! I mostly wrote this for me, but I wanted to share it anyway.

Anyway, here goes.

The Sleep Prank

WC: 3540

Bdubs was tired. It wasn't uncommon; he was, after all, the sleep master. He had a natural ability to fall asleep as soon as the sun began to set.

Today, however, was different. Where there was usually the pleasant sleepy feeling that accompanied the end of each day, today there was frustrated exhaustion. All because of Tango and Impulse's stupid prank.

It had been going on for three days now. The prank was funny at first— a TNT explosion rigged to blow when Bdubs went to hit his bed. The first time it had happened, he had just finished clearing out most of a nearby sand biome, grabbing a large quantity for the concrete shop. At 10 pm precisely, he took out his trusty bed he travelled with, he set it on the ground and prepared for his nightly shreep sleep. When it happened, he had shrieked loudly and fallen off the bed, causing his fellow Boomers, who were hiding behind a nearby dune, to cry with laughter.

"Very FUNNY!!!!!" he had yelled in his trademark over-exaggerated voice. "Mess with ol' Bdubs while he's tryin' to sleep. You think that's FUNNY, don't you?!"

"Yes, actually," cackled Tango. "It's hilarious. Oh, your FACE…"

The laughter went on for several minutes, Bdubs pretending to be angry while the other two collapsed on each other in laughter. But Bdubs had taken the prank good-naturedly, and soon enough the other two left and he was alone again. Slightly shaken up, he picked up his things and headed to his base, ready to actually get some sleep.

The second time was still funny. Impulse and Tango had trapped his home beds to do the same thing, which didn't hurt Bdubs or any of his things, but did make him jump out of his skin. The two had clearly been expecting this, because soon after, his communicator buzzed:

ImpulseSV: TANGO IT WORKED

TangoTek: HAHAHHAHA YESSSS

TangoTek: Get some nice sleep Bdubs? >:)

Glaring at the offensive messages, he typed back:

BdoubleO100: NO >:(

BdoubleO100: YOU FOOLS SCARED ME SO BAD

BdoubleO100: You guys are the WORST

BdoubleO100: Trapping my BEAUTIFUL HOME

Bdoubleo100: I'll get you for that

Bdubs laughed as he typed out his mock rage. But it was all in good fun, both Bdubs and the Boomers knew.

Now slightly wary of the many beds he had around his base, Bdubs got up from the current bed, no real goal in mind besides getting away from the beds for a little while. It was 10:32 now. Usually, he would already be asleep, ready to skip the night and start on more building projects in the morning. Nursing a slight headache, he picked up a book from one of his many decorative bookcases and sat down away from any beds to read.

20 minutes later, eyes heavy from reading and body tired from the day, he cautiously hit a bed for the third time. Nothing happened. He sighed in relief, already starting to fade into sleep.

And then it happened again. An explosion of TNT, to his right.

"AAAAAGH!!" he screamed, again startled by the prank. This time, he heard a dispenser fire, and suddenly he had a piece of paper in his hand:

GOTCHA!!!!!! — your fellow boomers :)

With a stab of annoyance, he crumpled up the paper and huffed downstairs. Grabbing some rockets and a few blocks of wool, Bdubs took off into the night, heading...somewhere. He didn't know where he was going, besides away, away from his base and the stupid bed prank.

He touched down a few hundred blocks away from his base, finding a decently-sized patch of grass sheltered from the outside by the overhang of a small cliff. He spread out the wool and placed a few torches for safety. Without a true bed, the game's code wouldn't let him instantly sleep and skip the night like usual, but he could still sleep the old-fashioned way. Though not as substantial in length or quality, he would still get some rest, ready in the morning to dismantle all the stupid bed traps around his base and then get some real work done.

Sighing quietly, he laid down, closing his eyes and falling into an uneasy rest. It only lasted half an hour or so, just long enough for Tango and Impulse to find him and set off some more TNT. He woke up in a panic at the thunderous sound, disoriented.

"WHAT THE FU-"

He was interrupted by his two tormentors howling with laughter, peeking out from behind a tree not far from his sleeping spot.

"Sup Bdubs! Get some good sleep?" Tango called, smugly.

Impulse was doubled over beside him, absolutely cackling. "Yeah, you thought you could run away huh? Oh Bdubs…"

"Oh veRY FUNNY!" he tried, but his voice and face betrayed his tiredness and annoyance.

"Ha, ha, yes hilarious, now will you leave me alone?"

Tango gave him a cruel smirk. "Well why don't you try to sleep again and find out?"

His heart sank, seeing how invested the two were in this prank. They really weren't going to let him sleep.

"Please?" It was a pitiful request, free of any of the usual amusing inflection in his voice. Tango and Impulse looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Finally, Impulse spoke.

"Okay, if you can make it to tomorrow without sleeping, we'll let you off the hook. We just wanted to see how long you could go," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, Bdubs, it'll be a great challenge for you! See you in the morning then?" asked Tango.

Bdubs considered their offer. What choice did he have? He could make it through one night.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll just...read or something."

The Boomers smiled.

"We believe in you!"

"Bye Bdubs!"

They flew off into the night, leaving him to face the rest of the long night alone.

***

It was painful, but Bdubs made it through.

Grabbing his things, he took off back toward his base, thinking about the day ahead. He had some farming to do, a small shack to finish detailing, and the concrete shop to restock. Not to mention finding all the Boomer traps in his house. Then he would go to bed early and be done.

The day passed uneventfully, with no bed-related explosions, thankfully. Bdubs dug out all the blocks around the many beds around his houses, ripping out the offensive redstone wiring whenever he found some. He pocketed the TNT. It served Impulse and Tango right.

Bdubs really didn't do well without at least 8 hours of sleep. It was just how he operated. A full night of quality sleep was essential to keeping up with all the building work on the server and keeping up his happy, boisterous personality. The effects of no sleep were already wearing on him. He had been grumpy and distracted all day, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to not fall asleep on his feet. While working at the concrete shop earlier, he had dropped a block of the stuff on his foot. Swearing loudly and hopping on one foot, he slammed the door and left the building, only to find someone he really didn't want to see: Impulse.

"Hello, Impulse," said Bdubs stiffly.

"Bdubs! Get some good sleep? Oh wait!" Impulse chortled.

He restrained himself from telling Impulse just exactly what he thought of their stupid prank and no sleep challenge (some of the younger hermits were nearby, after all). Instead, he forced out a laugh and put on an overexaggerated expression of indignance.

"You and Tango, I can't believe you would mess with my sleep. Do you KNOW how hard that was? I'm-I'm gonna fall over or something!" He yawned dramatically, pretending to start falling.

Bad idea. He lost his balance for real and fell, slamming into the ground. Impulse just laughed and helped him up, unaware that he wasn't joking.

"Boomers gotta boom, Bdubs."

"Fair enough. Imma get you back though. So you better WATCH OUT!" Bdubs grinned mischievously as Impulse sprinted away in mock fear.

Once he was out of sight, Bdubs slumped over, rubbing his hip where he had fallen. This prank was really starting to take a toll on him.

The rest of the day passed fine, but Bdubs was on edge, finding himself becoming annoyed at little things— the sound of blocks scraping against each other in his inventory, the lowing of animals around the village, the rockets being fired by a passing hermit. He brushed it off, knowing he just needed sleep.

That night, he looked cautiously at his bed. Even though he had checked underneath it earlier and found nothing, the Boomers were some of the smartest redstone workers on the whole server; they could definitely hide traps Bdubs would never find. And now that they knew that disrupting his sleep would get him so riled up, they were bound to do it again, even if he had technically completed their challenge.

Sighing, he flew back to the grass patch from the night before, this time with more wool. Settling down, he tried to fall asleep and realized he couldn't. Despite being bone-tired from last night and a long day today, sleep wouldn't come. A slight panic came over him. He had never not been able to fall asleep before. Was it stress? Anxiety? Both, probably, he thought.

Sighing, he propped himself up against a nearby wall and slapped on his communicator, needing a distraction. He scrolled through the day's messages, laughing at some:

Grian: Guys mumbos AFK again

Grian: What should I do to him

Iskall85: push him in a hole and then cover his floors with ice lol

Xisumavoid: New potion building is open! Free for all my hermits :)

Stressmonster101: Are u tryin' t put me outta business?

Stressmonster101: ill get u for that X, i will

Smiling at his friends' antics, Bdubs moved to get back into bed. But he was still uneasy— something felt off. Scowling at the thought of being woken up by another explosion, he turned over and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to sleep.

Except his paranoia had been for good reason.

Because moments later, TNT went off, startling Bdubs awake. Well, not awake. He never really got to sleep, but he was getting close, and now the goddamn TNT was back.

Groaning in frustration and cursing under his breath, he sat up to look for the victory message he had come to expect. Sure enough:

ImpulseSV: WE GOT HIM AGAIN BOYS

ImpulseSV: aGAIN AAGSAJH

TangoTek: Take notes, ladies and gentlemen

ImpulseSV: Bdubs weve been waiting like an HOUR for you

TangoTek: WORTH IT

TangoTek: lol

Bdubs played along, sending a funny message back, but he was privately glad it was over the communicator and not in real life. He was pretty sure he would have straight up punched the two in the face if they had been nearby. He had done the challenge. It had been over 24 hours since he had slept. Couldn't they leave him the hell alone already?

He thought about trying to be serious with him and ask them, point-blank, to stop. Surely they would see how much they had put their friend through and end it. They weren't that cruel. Right?

Huffing in frustration, he packed up everything he had brought and trudged back to his base. If he was going to get pranked again, he may as well be comfortable at home.

Once he reached home, he threw his things down unceremoniously. Dammit. He should really be sleeping by now. Instead, he tapped his foot anxiously, trying to figure out what to do. He really didn't want to risk another bed-splosion.

He went an hour or so wandering around his base, organizing things and doing odd jobs here and there, and by then it was 11:23. But Bdubs couldn't get himself to try the bed, no matter how much his tired body screamed at him to. He wouldn't do it, not when he knew he would probably just be woken up again. So he kept finding things to do. 11:30 turned to 12 am, turned into 2:30, turned into 5:00 am, and suddenly it was light outside.

Oh. That was bad. He hadn't slept in two nights.

Closing his eyes where he stood, he swayed slightly as he clenched his jaw. Two nights. Goddammit. He realized with horror that he could feel tears beading up in his eyes. This wasn't sustainable.

He took a deep, centering breath and thought about everything he had to get through to finish this never ending day. Groaning at the thought of getting through another day, he made a decision. He would just have to talk to Impulse and Tango. This wasn't happening anymore after today.

***

So today, he was tired. And crabby. He had been awake for over 80 hours, and Bdubs was in a mood and a half because of it. He snapped at Scar during a mayoral meeting, shoulder-checked Mumbo "on accident" while passing him in the shopping district, and kicked down a particularly ugly flower in front of the Barge. He looked terrible, too, with dark bags under his eyes, uncombed hair, and wrinkled clothes he hadn't taken off in two days.

Several hermits passing through the shopping district gave him worried, questioning looks, making him even angrier. He tried to reason with Ren, who saw him and stopped to say hello, and tell him he was perfectly fine, thank you very much, but his argument was weakened by the way he tripped and nearly faceplanted over a small bump in the road.

"You really don't look good, my dude, you need to take a break or something," laughed Ren, lending him a hand to pull himself and looking at him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Well I'm fine, so leave me the hell alone," he snarled in response. The other man had just raised his eyebrows and walked away.

After, he decided to go to his concrete shop to calm down and try to get away from everyone. He pulled out a spare bed and looked at it longingly. Maybe the prank was truly over now? It had been a bad day, and he was so tired…a nap wouldn't hurt.

Lying down gratefully in the comfy bed, (had it always been this comfortable? surely not) he felt the familiar pull of sleep. Just as he was about to doze off, it happened again.

The godforsaken TNT went off.

Bdubs lost it.

"GODDAMMIT TANGO AND IMPULSE YOU SONS OF-"

He was interrupted by laughter from the very two he had just cursed at. They emerged from a door in the wall sneakily hidden by pistons, cackling and falling over each other.

"Oh my God, he actually fell for it-"

"I can't believe it worked-"

"No, Impulse, cause he's so predictable-"

Bdubs closed his eyes, ignoring the way it made the world spin around him, just trying to block out the incessant, annoying laughter filling his ears. He could do this, he just needed to put on a smile and pretend it was all funny-

"He can't go ONE NIGHT without a bed, the precious baby boy," wheezed Impulse.

"Widdle Bdubs is scawed of the dawk, isn't he?" mocked Tango.

He tried to block it out. It's funny, it really is, it's just a prank. Chill out, Bdubs.

"What would we do without him protecting us from all the scaaawy mobbies?"

Tears welled up in his eyes for the second time that day. He was actually afraid of the dark, deathly afraid. It wasn't just a joke to him, they didn't understand...

"Oh, I'm Bdubs, I have to sleep in a bed otherwise i'll get SCARED-"

"SHUT UP!" roared Bdubs. "SHUT UP GODDAMMIT THIS ISN'T FUNNY-"

"Oh but it IS, Bdubs," Tango wheezed, "Cause you fell for it like FIVE TIMES AHAHA-"

He couldn't do this.

"BLUE CREEPER!" he finally yelled, desperate to stop their taunts, to stop everything about the awful prank. The laughter of the other two men died down, finally quelled by the use of the code word.

"Oh shit, Bdubs, are you good?" asked Impulse.

"Yeah, man, sorry, that was the last one we set up," said Tango, shrinking back a bit.

Bdubs hated that they were so suddenly worried about him. As if they hadn't just been making fun of something very important to him, as if this was all a joke. It wasn't funny. They knew he needed sleep and that he was afraid of the dark, of the mobs-

"Bdubs? Buddy? Hey, are you alright, what's wrong?"

But he wasn't paying attention to them. Breathing heavily, he pushed past them, running somewhere, anywhere but here with the other two. He found a corner and pressed himself between the two walls, hiding there for a moment, before reaching for his communicator.

BdoubleO100 whispers to Xisumavoid: blue creeper please come please need help i cantt do it anymore

Tango and Impulse found him there, and they approached him like he was a scared animal, hands raised and eyes wide. Bdubs just hid from them, hoping that-

Teleported Xisumavoid to BdoubleO100.

Thank God, he thought, as he saw the familiar yellow armor. Because suddenly the admin was there, looking at Bdubs with deep worry and care.

"What's happened?" Xisuma asked gently, tipping Bdubs' face up to meet his eyes under the visor. He jerked away, trying to hide his face and his tears. Xisuma instead posed the question to Impulse and Tango, who were looking guilty as hell.

"We sorta played a prank on him…" Impulse said sheepishly.

"Yeah," Tango added, "we just thought it would be funny-"

"To do what?" the admin cut him off sternly.

"...To make TNT explode every time he tried to sleep."

Xisuma glanced back at Bdubs with worry in his eyes. "Why would you do that? You know how he feels about the night!"

At the mention of his fear, a sob escaped him. He slumped to the floor, exhausted. He was so tired, so angry, so embarrassed. He looked back at X, sending a plea with his eyes.

"Please, 'suma, I just...just wanna sleep."

"I know, my friend."

Xisuma left the builder on the floor and stood up to face the pranksters.

"I expect you two to take down everything you set up to explode. Then I expect you to apologize to your friend once he gets some real rest. You took it way too far." He made sure to look both of them in the eye through the tinted visor.

The other two Boomers expressed their agreement and walked out, clearly embarrassed.

An ugly part of Bdubs' mind said good, they should be embarrassed. But he could barely find the energy to be mad anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

Xisuma turned back to him and helped him off the ground. Bdubs all but collapsed into the admin, finally letting some of the tension in his body dissipate. Xisuma shifted to support his mostly dead weight, chuckling softly and giving him a gentle hug.

"Sorry...couldn't take it anymore...goddamn TNT... bullshit," he mumbled.

"Hey, it's quite alright. Let's find you a bed somewhere in my base. I'll patch the code so you can sleep in an actual bed during the daytime. Does that sound okay?"

Bdubs half-sobbed, half-laughed into Xisuma's shoulder. "Yes please. It's… been… long few days."

Teleported Bdoubleo100 to -487.00, 45.00, 1,256.00

Teleported Xisumavoid to -487.00, 45.00, 1,256.00

Once they both successfully reached Xisuma's base, the admin pulled out a bed and set it down in a small building that definitely wasn't trapped. Seeing Bdubs looking at it nervously, Xisuma dug out the blocks underneath, showing no redstone trickery. At last, Bdubs let himself fall into the bed, eyes sliding shut instantly, his body finally free of the tension of the past three days.

Xisuma gently laid a blanket over the man, ruffling his hair fondly and smiling when he moved his head to get closer to the touch. Bdubs mumbled something, trying to thank X, but it was incoherent, his brain too tired to form actual words. The last thing he heard before drifting off was...

"Goodnight, Bdubs."

[brushstrokesapocalyptic]

I know smash bros tends to oversimplify it’s characters to fit that game better, but I am a little bummed out that so many people only know kid Icarus because of smash bros, so they assume Pit is the classic Shonen protagonist and that Dark pit is just the evil edgy clone when they are so much more and this is shown through their characters designs.

Like you said Dark pit has a very pretty color palette with his teal wings which matches his scarf and it makes for such a nice character design (and it’s a great subversion for the “dark” color schemes that we often see with this type of characters)

In a way his designs also reflects part of his personality, we assume he is going to be just an evil counterpart for Pit and we as the player controlling Pit seek to hunt Dark pit down under Palutena’s orders, but later he is shown to care about Pit and Palutena and I am pretty convinced that he in a way is Pit, just a side Pit he tends to hide (but that’s another topic from another day).

I just think it’s a shame people often tend to oversimplify and misinterpreted their characters (Pit and Dark Pit) so much when in reality they are very charming and interesting and this is surprisingly shown on their color palette, Dark pit is composed of jewel tones not dark tones and although his character has a spunk to him, he is shown to care about Pit and Palutena and even goes out of his way to help them.

He also smiled when Pit reunites with Palutena

(fun tip: I don’t think the phrase of “two sides of the same coin” was ever said on the jp version so it’s very likely that the reason Dark pit decided to help Pit and Palutenea is because he cared about them and wanted to help them out of his free will!)

the fact that tumblr now allows people to send whole-ass text posts complete with photos in through the ask box is absolutely astounding. increasing the character limit is one thing but come on.

anyway BUDDY i could talk Forever about how dark pit reflects on pit's character. obviously he's his own character who is wonderful and i love so very much but also the fact that by his mere existence he adds implied Depth to pit just by being made from the mirror of Truth. not the mirror of Darkness or Shadows or whatever other edgy thing they could've gone with, the mirror of truth.

and he says it himself! as does pandora! everything that dp is when he's created comes from pit himself, meaning that to some degree pit feels exactly how dp behaves, the only difference being that dp is just those feelings of frustration and rebellion, amplified and bundled into an entire boy.

despite what the characters say i don't buy the idea that he's disloyal to the underworld bc the mirror broke, (tho i do headcanon that that's why he looks so different; his colors got all glitched up while generating a physical form,) he's just Like That because deep down that's what pit wants to be. he loves palutena and he'd never abandon her but you cannot convince me he's never fantasized about suddenly gaining his own power of flight and just taking off, never to be pranked or made fun of or tossed around or fed to hewdraw or treated like an intern ever again.

so you put him in front of the mirror of truth, and the mirror takes a good hard look at all this repressed teenage rebellion and says "yeah i can make a boy out of that" and it makes a boy out of that, and then that boy is the best character in the game, and also does not have black wings because he's not an inversion he's just had a few sliders adjusted.

it kinda reminds me of how there's certain astronomical bodies we know exist because of how they affect the things around them, even though we've never seen the actual thing that's there. like dark matter, which now that i think about it is an awfully appropriate thing to bring up while rambling about dark pit, and i'm gonna stop here because that's Real far from the intended scope of this post. dark pit good, pit is granted extra depth because of the depth dark pit implies, haha funny hole joke, k thanks bye.

and also you can pry iridescent wings from my cold dead hands, go look at pictures of glossy starlings please i don't have long you have to look at them you have to look at birds

[marigoos]

Ok AHEM *taps mic*

Fragment 1: very legible, we love it himitsu wo kyouyuu / no okage de / ko kara .himitsu is "secret" (we all know which one, ya?), kyouyuu is "share" .no okage de means "thanks to", "because of" (always in a positive way). We're missing the agent, but pretty sure it's Bakugou himself... .ko kara is 99% koko kara, "from now on", "from here" So: share(d?) the secret / thanks to [you?] / from now on

Fragment 2: ha kore / kita issho(?) / deki(?) .That ha kore is pretty meaningless without the rest of the sentence, just know that kore is "this" and ha is just a particle .kita is the end of a past tense verb, but good luck finding out which one. I went with issho (together) for the rest, because well... 一緒 it could be something else but there are so many words that start with 一 that I don't think I would finish today if I checked them all. This one has the left part very similar, it does not sound out of place (like, say, "species" would), and it is fairly common anyway, so I'm betting on it. .ki is certain, de a lot less so, could be the first part of the verb dekiru, ~"to be able to". No clue about the conjugation, it's missing the last part

Fragment 3: ima ma [...] (?) / tasukete ku / cchan .The ima is a very well recognizable "now", and the only thing starting with ma that I would put after that would be made. Meaning "until now", "up to now". The kanji on the right is cut in half, it does look like nichi but again, so many words with nichi it's not fun. Could be hibi (days), could be nichijou (daily), could be mainichi (every day) if he writes very tight, could be Sunday for all we care .tasukete ku is probably tasukete kurete. With an arigatou at the end it's a very common way to say "thanks for helping / saving me". Given the implications of the term, I think he's thanking him for saving his ass against Shigaraki you know, when Bakugou fucked around and got 2 or 3 new holes for free .And yeah the -cchan is most definitely what you think :)

Fragment 4 is: -a bitch -ACTUALLY FRAGMENT 1! If you squint VERY HARD you can more or less recognize row 3 as frag 1's row 1. The top was just hidden behind the fingers in page 1, and now they're hiding the bottom. Not even gonna attempt what's left of row 1, it's a bunch of vertical lines... Row 2 looks like keta issho (???? again?) da keta, just like kita, just seems to be the last part of an undefined past tense verb. Unfortunately those two scribbles in the middle could be an 一 with some folding lines, because the paper is all crumpled. I looked and looked for something that resembled the other kanji and at some point it looked like "mirror", 鏡, but none of the compounds made any sense. So another issho it is... that oblique line on the right does seem to confirm it. da could be fine alone ("be/am/is/are") or could be datta ("was/were"). "We were together" (for a long time? I guess?)

We can thus deduct that the contents of the letter were along the lines of "hey Kacchan I know we've been around each other for years and thanks for saving my ass back there and I did a lot of things thanks to you and thanks for keeping my secret, but I got it from here (don't look for me k thx bye)" [heavily paraphrased][random order].

Now, why did I just spend half of my afternoon losing my sight on this? Because I don't trust Horikoshi :)

See, go back to frag 3. tasukete ku- is cut off at a very convenient point... another thing you can do with it is make it tasukete kudasai

"Help me"

Which, in the context of last chapter, AND with that -cchan just below it... idk, it doesn't look like a coincidence to me :)))

Moral of the story: I don't even ship these two, I'm just an agent of chaos. Enjoy! *drops post in the pit and watches the bakudekers rise*