#i should work on studying them both some more sometime. gotta keep on learning!!!!

[orcelito]

One of the funniest things about learning both Spanish and Japanese is that. When I'm rambling to myself in one or the other (as I tend to do, living alone as I do. It's good practice), I sometimes end up unintentionally mixing up "y" and "と(to)". Like they both mean "and", and they just have the same Feelings to me as words. So sometimes I'm speaking in Spanish and catch myself throwing a と in there by accident. Less frequently done with Japanese just bc I am nowhere near as fluent in that as I am in Spanish (and thus less able to just Ramble in it like I can with Spanish), but the spirit is there I think.

Idk I think it's something with the vowels. Spanish and Japanese just have very similar sounding vowels. Makes it real nice to be learning either of them, bc they have pretty similar mouth-feels. Not Entirely the same, especially not once u add consonants in there, but for the basic 5 vowels? A Spanish a is a あ, e is a え, i is a い, o is a お, and u is a う

And I just think that's very refreshing. I really do enjoy learning both these languages, even if sometimes my talking to myself ends up being some hilarious conglomerate of Spanish, Japanese, and English. It's just me talking, so it's fine to get a little silly with it, I think

[ebdanon]

jfc another ask

anyway, he said we could get the stuff we needed from the cabinet, use it, and put it back when we're done or when we go to bed. which sounds reasonable if it's something like a mug that you use for a bit and then put away with the rest. but not expensive tech we've worked hard to acquire and use extensively, that you then have to store in a cabinet that barely has any room, so you have to put one laptop on top of the other one, and then more stuff on top of them and do that any time you need them? bitch if im not working on my laptop im doing other shit on it, whether it's studying, or entertainment, or looking for another job so i can move. its also not made to be stored that way. so there was a huge argument about him feeling the freedom to take and move shit around that doesnt belong to him. and my mil was defending him. it then devolved into her talking shit about how many things we had and why couldnt we bring some stuff over to my parents' apartment. that they were horrible people and likely told us to store it in their house because that's what they do, give us instructions we have to follow.

around a month or so into that, i learned that my mil and shitty grandma had become close friends. i realized this because some of the shit talking she did sounded suspiciously familiar. like word for word familiar. one day i caught them on the phone together and it made sense. so thats where my mil was getting her tea from to call my other grandma a whore, my aunt dumb and incompetent, and even made up her own conspiracies on top of that. like how my husband and i were working freelance for my sister. she does work freelance to but something i have no idea how to do. sometimes she'll come to me about how to deal with a client or an admin issue because ive been doing this a few years longer. but we stopped talking after that funeral/party weekend. she was pissed at me for not attending the party. but somehow this woman got it in her mind that we were working for my sister or that my sister was working for us. she said it either way a few different times so idk. but basically the issue there was, her daughter is a stay at home mom in a different country, low on cash, we should be giving her money or work because she needs it more than my sister. what she doesnt know is that my sister in law is the one we've been lending money to for years now with nothing in return. they're having a difficult time with a small kid, we want to help. if they can pay us back at any point fine, if not fine. there are more issues in that particular situation but that's irrelevant here. anyway, pretty often, my mil goes on rants about the country her daughter is in is shit, the people there are shit. there's been a huge brain drain from our country to that one in the last two decades. she keeps saying more and more people are coming back because its so shit there. except its more shit here which is why we're trying to leave too. people arent coming back, shes making it up. how if her daughter came back, she wouldn't have to be a stay at home mom, because my mil would find her a job. except that's the reason they left. my sil and her husband couldnt find jobs anywhere here that paid decently. and they had a toddler. no one was helping them financially from both sets of parents, so thats the solution they found.

in that first month, i kept asking my mil where she keeps various things like baking supplies or cleaning supplies or whatever else i needed that the apartment already had (former) or we left behind (latter) which i never got a response to. "hey where do you keep the stand mixer? silence, leaves the room" is a common example. my fil years ago, made the garage (oh yeah theres a garage too) to fit two cars. except to park them, they gotta be one behind the other, so you have to take out one to drive the other, if my description makes sense. our car is always the one on the inside because "we dont need it much" according to them because they go to work every day and we work from home. any time we need the car, we have to ask them to move theirs so we can get ours out. we're not touching their car no matter how much they push us to sell ours and drive theirs, or just move theirs whenever necessary because that's just a shitstorm masked as a kind gesture. i stopped asking about the cleaning supplies and we bought our own, even though i know she has a set for each floor because she's told me. funny thing i learned last night: the bathroom we got assigned had a single toilet cleaning product in there. the bathroom was also absolutely filthy. we kept trying it out to clean the toilet with the product but nothing was happening. so i checked the date and it turned out to be expired. i left the expired one where i found it because god forbid you touch anything of theirs. im not even allowed in parts of the house. so there were two identical toilet cleaners next to the toilet. my mil brought it up in one of her screaming monologues last month, and we told her why there's two. so she proceeded to yell about why we never told her. and she grabbed the expired one and threw it out. last night during the shitstorm, my father in law said it wasn't that kind of toilet cleaner. he bought some off brand cleaner that her poured into the packaging of this expired bottle (im like wtf u could have made poison gas or something mixing chemicals like that) a while ago, and you're supposed to scrub hard to get any sort of cleaning done. and i said well if the instructions said that, i would have done that, but everyone here takes the pleasure in keeping everything hidden. he said he didnt bring it up earlier because he wanted to see us "tear each other apart" because he was bored. so not even his wife knew. psycho fucking behavior i swear, sometimes i dont know whos worse between the two of them.

my sister in law and her family were over for the christmas holidays, and my niece's bday was coming up soon so she asked me to bake some muffins for her to decorate before the party because she needed the oven at their place to bake other stuff. i said no problem, and had to scavenge a whisk i remembered seeing because idk where the stand mixer is despite asking multiple times. and being ignored. oh but my mil knew id be making them and kept trying to convince my sil against it because im incompetent and would fuck it up and its best if my mil bakes the muffins. my sil assigned mil on muffin decoration duty. which my mil didnt do because she was too busy. i dont even

anyway, since the year started, i decided to make a spreadsheet to keep track or all the shit my mil says about me or my family. i keep track of dates and what she said because the first few months i felt like i was losing my mind. she would say some crazy shit, my husband would call her out and she'd say she never said such a thing. hence, spreadsheet. it got too much for me to handle and my body started reacting. she tends to start shit during weekends. my blood pressure started spiking during the weekends as soon as id wake up. id get shakey, out of breath, my heart rate would go up. my husband and i went to a bunch of doctors, just like we did for him last year. his dad was there too, because thats how shit works here. my husband had to kick him out so i could explain the symptoms to the doctors. so they could examine my chest because they were worried its a heart issue. idk my fil is weird and creepy and thats a nice way of putting it. he walked in on me in the bathroom multiple times. just me, no one else. im now the only one that locks the door when using any bathroom. because my husband asked what his problem was and he said he's not used to other people in the house. yet he never walked in on anyone else. any bathroom any time of day. fil asked why i didnt lock the door and i said my mil and husband said not to do that because the locks are old and rusty and i could end up stuck inside. he said thats not true so i started locking the door. he still tried to get in. weird behavior aside, turns out my symptoms were due to hereditary thyroid issues triggered by stress. the blood pressure has gone back to normal since but not everything else, and especially not during stress, everything spikes then. many times since, she'd start yelling, my husband would notice im not looking great, and he'd pull out the blood pressure monitor so we can check. and she'd continue yelling how she doesnt care i have health issues, im gonna take it, she has health issues too and no one gives a fuck about her. she's shoved me out of the shed when i went to grab something for her daughter while yelling at her daughter why she has things in there (it was a pair of forgotten shoes). several times she's screamed/asked me what she's done wrong for me to mistreat her, how shes opened her soul to me and ive been using it against her, how i changed since we moved out of town and changed her son too. ive asked her how ive used anything against her, no response. ive asked what ive done wrong, no response. so i didnt respond to her question either. until last night when she screamed/asked again.

okay last ask will be about last night ive been typing for so long im sorry for clogging ur ask box with my lore

ur mil would literally argue with air atp jesus christ

[icharchivist]

I mean, yeah, obviously, Reddit videos are harmless fun and sometimes you just want some noise while you debate whether you're gonna take a nap or not, but thanks anyway.

And yeah, looks like you'd already familiarized yourself with Somerton's thoughts then, if you already read the stuff he's been plagiarizing.

You explained that really well btw, maybe you should also do investigative journalism 🤔

But it definitely feels like you dodged a bullet. I just feel bad for people who weren't so lucky and admired and even supported these creators. That's gotta be quite a shock.

I also agree on the plagiarism discussion being in the spotlight right now being a good thing. I just hope it stays there and doesn't just disappear again in two weeks, because it is an important topic and it doesn't get less important in times of Chat GPT and such, but I'm also rambling.

It was a good video and I was thoroughly entertained and yeah, I'll keep my eyes peeled from now on. Semi-related, but Somerton is a bad person on a lot of fronts, between the plagiarism, the victim complex, setting his co-writer up as the scapegoat and the misogyny. Just an all around despicable person.

If you haven't even watched a show, don't make content on it, you stupid idiot. May he find an office job now that his career has hopefully imploded.

yeah right! i just felt the need to reassure in case, it can be so easy to beat oneself down for some silly stuff like that, i felt the need to clarify ^^

And yeah lmao, quite wild turn of event, all things considered.

And aww thank you so much! i don't know if i could ever go into investigation journalism, it demands a whole lot more research and patience than i happen to have ahah. But for what it's worth i do have two diplomas centering around researching and analysing historical texts and various media analysis (mainly literature, but also cinema in general). One of those diploma is in French (which also involved philosophy analysis) and the other is in English (which involved translation and linguistic analysis) so yeah. (while at it i also have a general art diploma that also involved art history analysis for instance). Like i don't like to brag about it and all and i still think i have many blind spots, but it's kinda why i'm passionate about media analysis and about historical integrity in general. I don't think i'm doing things super well, but as Harris says in the video, this is the typical type of skill you don't realize you have because it's a second nature to analyse the stuff you run into that way. (i did get teachers tell me that i had a natural gift for analysis and incredible insight, but i haven't recovered from that at all and if i let myself talk i'll downplay it super bad lmao but that sure was a thing) So at least i do have the desire to dig into stuff on another level, it's the way i've interreacted with media both for fun and for my studies to start with. But i'm also very lazy about sourcing, mostly because i read a lot of things, forget where i read it, and then it becomes just my base knowledge so if i want to regurgitate it i'm just like weep. what is a source. so i have no pretension of doing it professionally and i encourage people to take everything i say with a grain of salt honestly.

but yeah, i definitely feel like i dodged a bullet but i feel horrible for the people the guy scammed. Like he was stealing the work of vastly more experienced creators, and even surface levels stuff are fine because there's a first to any topic you get into - and i think he specifically appealed to people who didn't have a lot of ressources to start with, so those things were brand new for them. We can't blame people for wanting to learn. It is however shocking to see someone using this desire for his own notoriety while trampling over the rest of the community he builds himself upon while stealing from it.

I sympathize a lot with the people who did use to follow him. It's harder to see the red flags when you feel your concern heard for once in your life and you have nowhere else to expend your horizons to. I truly hope the former fans are going to be okay, and i feel so much for those who actually paid money for all of this :(

and i agree, i hope the conversation about plagiarism stays there and is actually discussed in depth. I do worry people might scapegoat Somerton so much that they forget the main point about the plagiarism complains, but it is also hasty to make this remark now as everyone is heated by the content of the videos and it's normal for now they're talking about Somerton more than not. I do hope the conversation about plagiarism remains when everything else die down though. It is an important thing in our current landscape, especially with AI, as you say, and yea, as Harris also says

shows how well you understood one of the purpose of the video that you saw this argument coming right ;D you should be proud of yourself for actually connecting the dots honestly.

I'm glad you liked the video though! truly!

And yeah Somerton is...truly problematic on various level. I do appreciate that Harris focused on the factual approach of plagiarism, the one thing people can't really go against. But the more you look into his general behavior, especially the stuff he adds when he goes off script from the plagiarism, the more it's bewildering. and honestly i feel horrible for the people he stole the words of, who had to have those disgusting addition added to their own personal experience. What a dreadful thing.

AND YEAH GOD how does he get the CONFIDENCE to talk about a show he didn't watch just from stealing from people!! and i have an imposter complex when i talk about things I HAPPEN TO KNOW VERY WELL because i'm constantly stressing out about "shit what if i misread it though"??? if anything thanks to this video for doing a number to beat down my inferiority complex. Like geez i might be an analysis fraud but at least i only engage MY OWN OPINIONS when i'm wrong! that's a win!

but i'm honestly glad to see the general reception to this video on tumblr, even from ex-Somerton fans. It shows the willingness to really look into things, the intellectual curiosity that is necessary to navigate this type of analytic corners.

I've seen a lot of Internet History fans on twitter being super mad at Harris for this video for being "an hypocrite" who "is only blasting IH because he's not a leftie" like...... tell me you didn't finish watching the video without telling me you didn't finish watching the video.... And it's bewildering to me how they're missing the plagiarism concerns because they're too busy supporting the political allignment of the guy who is accused of it.

This video is a reckoning honestly but good lord. what a mess.

[nerves-nebula]

hi your "hunter escapes and has a fun little camping moment" au is living rent free in my brain rn, please Please share some more thoughts and rambles about it!

ANON PLEASE- (affectionate)

you gotta understand I was not lying when I said I have 5 pages of a google doc worth of comic ideas. Unfortunately it's still kind of a mess and I'm still sorting out some of the basic dynamics of this AU. I also like the idea of keeping most of my notes and making them into their own comics/posts so idk how I feel about just saying stuff in a list AND YET.

So here's some stuff I think I can say outside of a comic?? I’ll still probably make some of these into comics/doodles, but anyway I hope this is what you were looking for.

Hunter:

Hunter gets very into studying wild magic up close, something he wasn't allowed to do much before. But now he lives in the forest surrounded by wild magic. Because of this I plan for him to discover a few glyphs on his own, like Luz does, mainly the plant one. But you’ll see how that goes later ;)

He's also still trying to cure his uncles curse. He insists he's not going to go back to Belos, but if pressed on why he's searching for a cure for a man he plans to never see again, he'll get very defensive and angry. Sometimes it's not as easy as "I'm leaving and never coming back." sometimes you still wanna help the people who hurt you :P and THAT one is from personal experience

Hunter takes a while to really get into the whole “I’m on my own and can do whatever I want” thing, but I plan for him to mess around with his presentation once he gets more comfortable.

Rascal helps him change his eye bandages! I haven’t decided if his eye is damaged yet or just the area around it tho so stay tuned.

Hunter will often assign himself “missions” to go on because he doesn’t know what else to do with his free time. He knows he doesn’t technically have any deadlines or stuff like that anymore but he gets stressed not having a goal to strive towards so to cope he just.. gives himself arbitrary goals !

Funfact! This is not the first time Hunters pissed Belos off so bad that he’s fled the castle for a moment. But it IS the first time he stays away for this long. 

Home Hunter AU subscribes to the “Hunter is the grimwalker/a clone of Belos’ brother” theory just for extra angst. I kind of like the idea that he wasn’t even a big part of Belos’ plans though, just that Belos saw a chance to “Bring back” his brother and went for it fsdfsfsdf.

Hunter is terrified of relying on someone too much because no matter how much he trusts them, they could always kick him out. And he’d rather kick himself out before they get the chance. Boys still got issues, is what I’m saying. 

Because Hunter lives in the woods he starts to get a bit... Feral. People will not see him for a week only to realize he’s been not showering or changing his clothes. He was never the most normally-socialized kid but now he’s in the habit of hissing at people the way he does at wild animals that encroach on his tent.

Hunter is very possessive of his belongings (he has so few) and will tackle you if you try to take something from him without asking. He also hoards food and has trouble sharing it, but he feels a bit more embarrassed about this habit than others so he tries to hide it.

Luz:

Luz is basically the first person Hunter reaches out to after living in the woods for a few weeks, and she’s the only one he trusts, at first. 

She offers to let Hunter stay at the owl house a LOT, and sometimes he does :D ! But usually only if it’s raining or he has an injury he can’t heal himself, or if they’re just hanging out. 

Luz’s Super Secret Sad Boy plan is to try to trick Hunter into staying at the owl house for extended periods of time, so that he eventually doesn’t want to go back to the forest. She brings it up A LOT. This has yet to work though, because Hunter feels very uncomfortable about not understanding their family dynamic. That and it makes him feel a bit worse about his own. (kind of like when you go to your friends house and their parents are nice, so you cry afterwards. But to the extreme that he has trouble relaxing cause he’s viscerally aware of how much he doesn’t feel like he fits in.)

Luz tried to teach Hunter glyphs but he brushed it off. 1. because he’s still nervous about wild magic lmao but 2. because he didn’t think he needed to learn them since he has Rascal. He only starts looking into them when he personally finds them in nature on his own. After that point he starts eavesdropping on Lillith and Eda’s glyph lessons and hijinks ensue.

Lillith:

I’m actually super down for the idea that Lillith would bond with goldie in some way. They both know what Belos is like so they can bitch about him together!

I’m also a fan of the “Lillith regrets calling Hunter a brat” idea. Idk if she’s canonically seen his face or anything but I like to think that, at least NOW, she sees him for what he really is. A poor little meow meow. 

That being said don’t think that Mom!Eda is out for the count. They’re  ✨ co-parents  ✨ and I like to think they bring different things to the table when it comes to caring about Hunter. Raine might show up eventaully too :D. They still can’t get him to move out of the woods tho.

Belos:

Not much to say about him and his plans yet, but what usually happens when Hunter runs off after upsetting Belos is that he comes back a few hour/days later with something to win back Belos’ favor. So the emperor isn’t concerned at first, but then a week passes, and then another. 

In this AU Belos is very protective of Hunter but in a weird, possessive, fucked up way. Basically, he’s convinced himself that nothing is really a threat to him or Hunter (since he trained Hunter personally and believes in his nephews abilities). He was never afraid of Hunter being killed or leaving him cause he never considered those things as possibilities. So when Hunter doesn’t come back and is seen actively avoiding him, he goes a little apeshit? But like in a subtle way? Like, he’s losing it but quietly lmao. BASICALLY I do have plan for Belos to attempt to do a lot of stuff to catch/coerce Hunter, and maybe he succeeds! We’ll see.

That should be enough for now!

important to note that a lot of this could change on a whim since I’m still thinking about all of it but y e ah these are some things I’ve mused about.

also I hope this makes sense, I’m not really a writer so I just kinda type it how I talk it I guess.

[iamwhoami]

Until the Fire Comes (One Chicago)

One Chicago

Y/N Halstead, not only the baby sister to Will and Jay but the entire Chicago family, is secretly dating Connor Rhodes but what happens when she gets injured during a call?

Warnings: Inaccurate Medical Stuff

Requested = Yes

Growing up as the younger sister with two older brothers, you quickly learned that relationships worked better when Will and Jay were kept out of the loop.

You loved them, more than anything else, and they loved you too, but sometimes their love would become a little too much and you realized that they took everything as a threat to your safety.

When you became a firefighter, your dating life became even harder to manage as it was no longer just your two brothers.

You now had an entire firehouse that would beat up a guy in a second if he even looked at you the wrong way.

With that being said, when you began dating Connor, you knew it was risky. He worked with Will for crying out loud! However, he loved you, and you loved him, and with that, you two made it work.

"So, are we going to keep this a secret from them forever?" Connor asked, glancing over at you.

You were over at his apartment, a cheesy rom-com playing on the TV. Nights like these were your favourite. Homemade popcorn and terribly wonderful movies spent with Connor.

"Maybe just a little longer?" You quirked an eyebrow.

Connor laughed, "You can't put it off forever Y/N."

"I'm not putting it off forever," You pouted, "Just a little longer."

Connor only smiled back, throwing his arm around your shoulders so that he could pull you closer into his body.

"Is that okay with you?" You whispered into his chest, the sound of his heart beating soothing your swirling mind.

"Whenever you're ready," Connor told you, "We'll tell everyone whenever you're ready."

~~~

"You did not have to kick him out," You chastised Stella as you two walked into the firehouse along with Brett.

"He was getting all handsy with you! I definitely had to give him the boot!" Stella shot back but there was a slightly defensive tone to her voice.

You groaned, "For the last time he was not handsy with me! He was flirting with me!"

"And you looked uncomfortable," Stella said matter of factly.

You sighed, "Look, I appreciate that, I do. I couldn't ask for a better friend, you always have my back Stella and I will always have yours but you know, I can handle myself."

Stella pursed her lips, "I know...I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

"I know and I appreciate it but you gotta let me handle it sometimes," You smiled up at Stella who returned it after a beat.

"Okay."

~~~

You knew the risks of your job.

Your brothers knew the risks as well, which was why they were so hesitant when you told them your plans about joining the CFD all those years ago.

They were going to be furious.

That's all you could think of as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

At some point, you blacked out completely but when you opened your eyes again, you saw Brett's worried face hovering above yours.

"You're going to be okay Y/N," Brett told you when she noticed that you were awake, "Just stay with me okay?"

You wanted to open your mouth and reassure Brett that you would. That you would try your best to stay awake.

Your best efforts weren't enough though as the weight on your eyelids won over and you shut them again, against Brett's pleas.

~~~

"What the hell happened?" Will exclaimed when he saw your unconscious body being rolled into the ER.

"The roof collapsed," Brett was on the verge of tears, "She went back in for the daughter. She's in the ambo behind us."

Maggie pushed Will aside, a non-verbal reminder that he couldn't treat you before turning to Brett, "You're going to Baghdad. Dr. Rhodes!"

Upon hearing his name being called, Connor rushed out of the doctor's lounge. He was expecting the incoming to be a trauma, but he wasn't expecting it to be you laying on the gurney.

"Y/N?" He whispered and froze.

"Dr. Rhodes!" Maggie's voice rang out through the ER.

Connor shook his head, "I can't treat her..."

"What do you mean?" Will was furious at Connor's lack of productivity when his sister was potentially dying on the gurney.

"We're dating," Connor's voice was barely audible, "I can't...she-"

Connor didn't get a chance to finish before he was rammed into the side of the nurse's station by Will.

"Hey!" Maggie yanked Will off of Connor and shoved him aside, "Dr. Bekker! You're taking this one!"

Luckily, Dr. Bekker had already jumped in once she realized what was going on and was working on you.

"It looks like she's bleeding internally," Dr. Bekker called out, "I won't be able to see the extent of it without going in."

"I need to call Jay," Will mumbled numbly and a nurse kindly guided him away to the doctor's lounge.

Connor stood there and watched as they prepped you for the OR. How could such a normal start to the day end up like this?

~~~

"She's stable," Dr. Bekker said and the moment the words were out of her mouth, a sigh of relief rippled throughout the room.

Will and Jay immediately embraced each other, both on the verge of tears.

"I'll have a nurse take you to her room," Dr. Bekker nodded and then stepped away, giving your brothers and Connor some privacy.

There was a moment of awkwardness as the three of them stood in silence, unsure of what to say or do now that the good news had arrived.

"You should see her first," Jay motioned his hand vaguely at Connor.

"You sure?" Connor quirked an eyebrow, "I mean, she's your sister."

Jay chuckled, "And you're apparently her boyfriend."

Even with Jay's approval, Connor still wasn't completely sure and looked over at Will, studying his face for any sign of protest.

"Jay's right," Will agreed after a pause, "You should see her first."

It may not have seemed to be very much but it was clear to everyone in the room that Connor had the approval of both your brothers.

You were going to be ecstatic.

~~~

You woke up to the steady sound of a heart monitor. Groaning softly, you opened a bleary eye to see a concerned Connor hovering over you.

"What happened?" You mumbled and went to rub your eyes when you noticed the IVs connected to your hands.

"The roof collapsed," Connor whispered, "You had some internal bleeding."

Your eyes widened when you realized where you were and Connor had to stop you from shooting up and potentially ripping your stitches.

"My brothers-" You started but the look on Connor's face made you stop in your tracks.

You groaned and covered your face, not wanting to even think about what your brothers would have to say to you about your secret relationship.

"I think they actually took it pretty well," Connor said and took your hand into his, "They're outside waiting...do you want them to come in?"

You nodded and Connor briefly left your side to get them. Your stomach began to churn when you saw Will and Jay enter the room.

"I'm sorry-"

You were cut off as both your brothers wrapped you up in a comforting hug.

"We thought we were going to lose you," Jay croaked out, "God, Y/N you have to stop with these tricks. You're going to give us a heart attack one day."

"That's what I do best," You joked.

Will shook his head, "You could have died. Do you know how lucky you are?"

"Very," You agreed, "Very, very lucky."

"You know you could have just invited us over to break the news about Connor," Jay teased.

You laughed, "You know me. Always with the dramatics."

"Of course."

[peterpparkerwrites]

begin again - part two

a/n: currently on hiatus - look at my pinned post for more info! I have this series and the following ones scheduled to post twice a day - once at 11:00 AM PST and once at 5:00 PM PST. since I will be gone and can’t update links, if you want to find previous parts, just scroll down my page :) warnings: language, death mentions, ptsd/anxiety pairing: college peter parker x reader word count: 3.9k

masterlist ~ requests are closed ~ part three

taglist: @lilbeatlebear @somefuckshit1 @hufflepuffseeker

~

Peter was shaping up to be a pretty good friend, all things considered.

Yes, he was closed off about himself, and he sometimes he would seem like he was lost in his thoughts and when he snapped back to reality, he was much quieter. He didn't talk about his past that much after you met Ned - he usually only asked about yours, and in the beginning, he didn't ask at all. It took weeks for him to let you in, and for him to start seeming more interested in an actual friendship outside of study sessions.

But there were moments where he would laugh a real, genuine laugh, and joke back and forth with you, or offer you help with whatever you needed without you having to ask - he was proving to be one of your closest friends, actually. He took a while to open up to you, and you knew he would, but you were pretty persistent.

And when he showed up to a study session with a hot chocolate for you and a joke about how it would at least taste better than your usual sugary iced coffee, you knew you had broken his shell a little bit.

One thing you learned quickly about your new friend was that he was smart. Insanely smart - the guy looked at a few bio problems and worked them out before you could even begin critically thinking. He even helped with your math homework, something that you didn't necessarily struggle on like science, but he had ways of solving problems that you had never seen before.

"It'll take less time if you do it this way," Peter showed you once a way of finishing a difficult math equation, making it seem way simpler. You were both sat in the library hunched over his notebook while he taught you some new methods. "Plus this way it's easier to figure out."

"Jesus, dude," you gave him a look, "Do you secretly have a PhD or something?"

He laughed, shaking his head, "Nah, just picked up a few things from a good tutor."

She was a pretty good tutor.

"Peter, you dummy, that's a five," she erased his pencil scratchings, laughing, "I gave you one job."

"I thought it was an S, your handwriting is hard to read!" He protested, making her shake her head.

"Why would I be putting an S in this equation? That makes no sense."

"You make no sense, babe"

"Stop being cute and get back to work," she bit her lip, nudging him with her arm while he laughed. "We need to get you to pass this class that you keep skipping."

"I'm skipping for good reason," he said slyly, slipping a hand over hers and stealing the pencil, "And I know this stuff, I just need to catch up."

"Spider-Man is a good reason, but it shouldn't even be a reason, because you should be able to separate Spider-Man from interfering with school life," she countered, snatching the pencil back. "Now are you gonna let me help you, or are you gonna distract me some more?"

"I was leaning towards the latter, actually."

"Well lean away from it, cause I'm gonna teach you a really cool alternative way to solve this problem that'll totally blow your mind."

"Why did you word that like our teacher when he's trying to be fun and relatable?"

"Leave me alone, Parker, if you want me to help you, you gotta be nice."

"I'll try my best."

"Why is it so cold in here?" you complained after a minute, not even having noticed Peter zone out as you rubbed your hands up and down your arms.

Peter shook his head a little to rid the memory, glancing outside to where it was still pouring rain. Winter had seemed to come early to New York this year and while it wasn't snowing yet, he was sure it would come soon.

"Seems like the librarian didn't get the memo that it's freezing out," Peter joked a little, glancing at the front desk. "I doubt the heater is on."

"I can't even concentrate," you shivered again, frowning at your now empty cup of hot chocolate. It had been piping hot when Peter brought it to you, and maybe because you had your hands wrapped around it so long, you hadn't noticed how cold it really was in there.

"We can move this to my place, if you want," he offered, and again you could hear a bit of hesitance in his voice, but hey - it meant something that he even offered it, right?

"Good idea, I hope you left your heater on," you chuckled, moving to pack your things.

"'Course," he scoffed, shrugging his coat off. "And here, you can uh, wear this if you want. I still have a sweatshirt under."

"Thanks, Peter," you smiled as you took it from him, pretending you didn't see the rosiness in his cheeks. Maybe it was just the cold doing that.

"No problem," he said softly, watching as you slid it on. He tried to ignore the warm feeling in his chest at seeing you wear his clothes. Maybe it was a bad idea to give you that.

It was too familiar.

"Should we go brave the winter?" You asked, feeling much warmer with the coat on, trying not to focus on how much it smelled like him.

He laughed, shaking his head at you, "Yeah, let's go before your toes start falling off."

-

You had never been to Peter's place before, and if you were honest, you didn't think you would be there for a while. But here you were while he fumbled to find the right key, letting you in the see a fairly clean and simple apartment.

"This is cozy," you commented, raising an eyebrow at the six pack of Budweiser's on the counter. "You drink?"

"Not usually," he scrunched up his nose, "Those are my roommate's. Don't think he's here right now, though."

"That's too bad, I'd love to meet a guy who likes the nastiest drink on the planet," you snickered.

He chuckled with you in agreement, leading you to his room.

You weren't sure what you were expected his room to look like, he was so closed off about his interests and past that the only thing you knew about him was that he enjoyed photography, was smart, and did chemistry as a major.

He had a lot of pictures.

They covered his wall upon entering, so pretty hard to miss. You chose to look at a few of them while he tossed his bag on the bed and took a seat at his desk, letting you look around.

A lot of them were landscape photos - mostly of New York, but you saw some that looked like they could be somewhere in Europe. Along with those photos were some of Spider-Man - you frowned a little at those remembering the hero hadn't been seen in months, almost a year. But they were nice to see - Peter had gotten some really good shots and it was obvious why the Bugle hired him to take photos.

There were many of him when he was obviously younger - a man and woman were with him in most of them. His parents maybe? You saw a lot with his friend Ned, a few with a pretty girl, a couple prom pictures with a bigger group - the same girl and a few other people doing different poses. He had an arm slung over her shoulder in some of them, but you chose to ignore that.

It really wasn't your business to wonder what she might've been to Peter (or what she might still be).

You skimmed a few more, one of him and Tony Stark, which was a little shocking but you decided to ask about that later - he had died a few years ago but you weren't sure how close he might've been to the man, and based on how the picture looked...they were quite close. You don't think you had ever seen him look as happy as he did in those photos.

"You used to wear glasses?" You smirked when you saw another older one, and he just rolled his eyes at your teasing tone.

"Yeah, don't really need them anymore," he shrugged, seeing you still smiling at the old pictures of him with the man and woman you had first noticed.

"Parents?" You asked quietly, almost like you knew there was more backstory than that.

"Aunt and uncle," he said simply, not offering any more information, but you were happy with even that much.

You took that as your cue to leave the pictures alone, moving your gaze to the rest of his room. He had an old camera on his shelf along with some books and another framed photo - this time of two other completely different people. You noticed he looked a lot like the man in the photo and had the same brown eyes as the woman, but chose not to ask again. There were some posters on the wall, one of Star Wars and one for a band you didn't recognize. Other than those few things his room was surprisingly neat for a teenage boy, and mostly plain.

The only thing that really caught your eye were the flowers on his desk.

They were a little out of place, the colors standing out - they were beautiful, a bright pink color and you smiled when you realized they were your favorite type of flower - carnations. He didn't have that many but they sat in a vase at the end of his desk and you had a feeling there was a specific reason they were there.

"Those are pretty," you nodded to the flowers, and he turned a little pale hoping you wouldn't ask why he had them. "Carnations are my favorites."

He blinked, a little surprised. "They are?"

"Yeah, I love them," you touched the petals lightly, smiling, "They're the best to photograph, in my opinion. Are they your favorite too?"

They were her favorites. He only bought them as a reminder.

"Uh, yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to change the subject. "So, bio?"

"Right," your eyes widened a little as you set your bag down and took your textbook out, flipping through the pages. You chose to sit on his bed, and his eyes found the patches all over your backpack while you skimmed through your book. There was a few movie reference ones, a rainbow, a bike, a camera design - but his eyes focused on the one that was shaped like Spider-Man's mask. His mask.

"You are a fan, huh?" He tapped on the patch, and you smiled a little, chuckling.

"Yeah," you shrugged, "He's a pretty cool dude. Sucks that he's gone."

He snorted at that description, shaking his head. For a minute he debating continuing the topic, wondering if it would be suspicious, but he decided it wouldn't be.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Peter asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it. He didn't plan on coming back, at least...not yet. But he was curious to see what you thought about it.

"I don't know," you sighed, fumbling with the pages of your book a bit. It seemed like you could never sit completely still. "I really hope he does."

"You do?"

"Well, of course," you gave him a look, "He's saved so many lives. He's a hero, you know? I respect him a lot. He's saved people I know before, and...and it just sucks without him. Even the police want him back."

He laughed at that, "Yeah, even them."

Luckily you changed the subject when you found the right page, showing Peter what you'd been struggling on.

-

You left after a few hours, complaining about the hard class that you had while Peter laughed and shook his head at you.

"Freshman year should be a breeze, don't stress too much with classes," he said with a grin while you just shot him a playful glare.

"Yeah yeah, every class is a breeze for you, Mr. Smarty Pants," you tapped his forehead, making him chuckle. "I'll see you later, Pete, thanks for the tutoring today."

He didn't say anything in protest to the new nickname, making you grin a little giddily as you waved him goodbye and left his place, bag over your shoulder. For a moment he considered peeking out his window to watch you leave safely but decided that was too weird and just sat back down at his desk, pulling out his books to start doing homework.

For a few minutes he managed to get some chemistry work done before deciding to grab food from the kitchen, but before he got up to leave, something caught his eye.

Your photography notebook sat on his bed.

He sighed, knowing you were probably too far away by now for him to chase you down. He grabbed it and put it on his desk, then pulled out his phone to text you and let you know it was there.

Once he did that he dropped his phone on the desk with a sigh, staring at the notebook. It was covered in stickers, mostly meme and vine references. Sticking out of it were random pieces of paper and what he could tell were photographs. And Peter was a curious person by nature, so...

It didn't look like you had anything private in there so would it really hurt to take a peek?

He decided to go for it since it wasn't like a personal journal or anything, and you were a pretty open person - it wasn't like he didn't know a lot about you already. He figured soon enough he would see some of your photos anyway since you were both partnered for the semester and had more projects coming up.

The first few pages were random scribbles - math equations, formulas, a grocery list and to-do list. One was an almost finished application to join the school's newspaper as a photographer, which he remembered you mentioning to him once. Another was about a job fair at the end of the semester, a few coupons for the coffee place on campus, a project outline for a class.

The photographs stuck in there were random - there was one of a dog, which might've been yours, some polaroids of you and other kids, friends back home he assumed. Plenty of flowers, carnations mostly, and some portraits of people. But some of them made him frown - they were of the city, but they were a little blurry in certain places-

His eyes widened when he realized they were attempted photos of Spider-Man. Peter was careful - he needed the job at the Bugle desperately at the time he had it, and if he didn't sell pictures of himself as Spider-Man, the editor in chief probably would have fired him long before since they already had plenty of regular photographers. He couldn't just let anyone start taking pictures of him in case they wanted to try and steal his job.

But you actually managed to get some shots that really weren't bad at all - in fact, they were really good. They might've been a little blurry, but he noticed they all had a sort of aesthetic feel to them - the city was still, the only thing blurred was his red and blue figure swinging through the buildings.

It was obvious how talented you were even just by these.

That had to be what most of the photos were - his semi blurry self swinging by buildings. Some of them featured his webs - you had taken some pics of them that he had left behind on buildings, glinting in the sunlight, hanging off of street lamps and even some of when he had left bad guys strung up and had little notes attached to them that said "from your friendly neighborhood spider-man - you're welcome!" and things like that. Maybe you had taken those pictures when you weren't able to catch any of Spider-Man himself.

There was one of when he webbed words into the side of the Brooklyn Bridge - his heart skipped a beat when he realized which words you had managed to snap a photo of.

"Really, Pete?" she waved her hand at the bridge, where they were both sitting a good distance away from now. He watched her smiling at the words, knowing she wasn't really one for dramatics, but he didn't care. He just liked seeing the look on her face when she read the "I Love You" webbed into the side of the bridge.

"It's romantic, isn't it?" He asked, swinging an arm around her waist while she shook her head and laughed.

"It's so cliche, but you're right, it is," she smiled, leaning into his embrace. "People will be making rumors for weeks about who the lucky person is that has Spider-Man's heart."

"Let 'em talk," he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, "They'll never find out who. I'll keep you safe, always."

"I know you will."

The universe works in mysterious ways - he remembers his uncle saying that a lot. Was it a coincidence that he thought of those words often now when remembering how he lost the love of his life just hours after telling the world (or at least, New York) that Spider-Man loved someone?

Maybe it was stupid, but how was he meant to know that that simple gesture that should have been harmless ended up costing him the best thing in his life? He assumed there would be some stupid articles in the papers spreading rumors about Spider-Man secretly dating like, Black Widow (hey, they didn't know how old he actually was), or some other superhero.

Instead all the papers were reporting on the sudden disappearance of their local hero, and wondering what could have possibly caused it.

"You know I don't like swinging," she whined while he just chuckled, pulling her along to a secluded alleyway. "It makes my hair all whack and my eyes watery!"

"Yeah but it'll be so much faster to get home, babe," he promised, holding her hands in his and giving her a cheeky grin, "Plus I know you like seeing me in the suit."

"Shut up," she mumbled, pulling his hands toward her and making him stumble against her, "You're pretty cute for someone who's so annoying."

"It's a talent," he smirked a little, leaning forward and brushing his lips against hers. "But you love it."

"Sure," she laughed and kissed him, only pulling away when they both heard a loud bang from down the alley. "What was that?"

Peter tensed, feeling goosebumps on his arms and the hair on the back of his neck rising. "Get behind that car."

"What? Peter-"

He didn't let her finish, pulling her a little forcefully behind the nearest car. She stuttered out more questions but he ignored her while he shrugged off his pants and jacket, revealing the suit under his clothes. There was another even louder bang and she jumped while he slid on the mask.

"Stay here," he said firmly, seeing the hesitance in her eyes. "Don't come out until you see me."

"Please be careful," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his masked cheek. He stared at her for a second before nodding and getting up, heading for the sound down the alley.

It was easy - three, maybe four guys were mugging a lady at the other end of the alley. He focused on the two guys that he noticed had guns out and tugged them out of their hands before fighting. The lady ran off and it was a bit distracting fighting more than one guy at once, but Peter was practiced by then.

In almost no time he had them strung up to the wall, guns webbed up far away and they were all knocked out. He let out a sigh as he turned and saw his girlfriend standing near the end of the alley.

"I told you not to leave the car!" He huffed, going and hugging her close to try and relax. He hated that she was right there when he was fighting bad guys, even if they were just muggers - it could had been much worse.

His senses still felt all over the place as she hugged him back tightly, even though the three guys were webbed up and weren't waking up anytime soon. There were only three, right?

"You were here and they're all strung up, I figured it was done," she said shakily, pulling back.

"We should leave, now," he mumbled, still feeling on edge. She nodded but looked back at the darker parts of the alley, squinting a little and frowning.

"Are you sure you got all of-"

All he heard was a gunshot.

His phone buzzed loudly with a text and Peter scrambled to grab it with shaky fingers, grateful for the distraction. He had almost forgotten that he had texted you about the notebook in the first place.

shoot I didn't realize I left it, can I just walk back now and grab it? it has some pictures I need for the paper application and they're due tomorrow :)

He didn't want you to see him like this - sweat was forming on his forehead and he was sure his cheeks were bright red, his hands shaking and his breathing labored. This was the first time in a few weeks that particular memory hit him this hard, but he managed to send a text back.

how far are you? maybe i can bring it by later if you're already back on campus, i'm coming back for my late class anyway.

Anything to get you to not come back to his place right now. He sat on the floor by his bed, leaning his back against the side of it and bringing his knees to his chest. With a few deep breaths he shut his eyes, running his hands through his hair while you sent a text back.

sure, thanks peter! you're a real one!

He smiled a little at the emoji you sent with that, feeling his heartbeat slow down and his hands not shake as much. Something as stupid as one of your silly texts managed to calm him down easier than any other method he tried had.

With some reluctance he stood up, gathering the photos and putting them back in your notebook, but his eyes caught one more.

He picked up the photo, one that made his chest ache again. It was of the mural he had come across weeks ago, the one of his mask with the words "come back" written across it. You had taken it during sunset, which made the colors pop really nicely - it was definitely one of the best he had seen in this pile.

You had a sticky note stuck to that photo, stuck right underneath the painted words that said "come back".

will he?

[tiktowafel]

How about some post war arc headcanons for TetsuKendo?

yes

i love these two so much, they're such a nice healthy couple

- I hc that they started dating during their school years (post war arc makes sense because that's where everything calms down and stuff) and they were the first official relationship in the class

- Setsuna and Komori were so damn happy because they shipped it since day one and it finally happened, the otp became reality!!

- Also, aggresively supportive Monoma. Imagine him following them around all like "oh my god look at them, they're so beautiful together, truly a match made in heaven, go on and show me a class 1-A couple better than these two, oh wait, NO ONE'S DATING IN CLASS 1-A WHAT A SHAME" and Kendo wondering whether she should karate chop him or not

- Kendo would often help Tetsutetsu with studying even before they started dating

- They both suck at cooking, but this doesn't stop them with trying to learn it (i mean they have to, someones gotta cook when theyre adults) and making everyone worried about the well-being of the dorm kitchen

- These two have so much power couple vibes, they definitely work out together and they're sparring partners too

- They think of each other a lot when doing hero work, like the "what would Deku do" thing some 1-A people do.

Tetsutetsu is quite reckless and tends to throw himself into action without thinking about it much, Kendo on the other hand is a great planner who sometimes ends up overanalyzing the situation, so they make a perfect balance - Tetsutetsu thinks "Itsuka would probably stop for a moment and think it through" and Kendo thinks "Tetsu would probably stop overthinking this thing and actually go kick that villain's ass"

- Ok but adult Tetsukendo working in a shared hero agency and generally being one of the most well-known hero couples out there (i think that some hero couples are more public but others are more independent from each other, own separate agencies or keeping their relationship secret for one reason or another. Tetsukendo is definitely more like the first kind)

- Also the "married couple who keeps making their kids cringe because they refuse to stop being cheesy in public" dynamic fits them so well

[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

[slasherhaven]

okay okay, now I REALLY gotta ask: following up on the art s/o request, how would the boys feel if they've found LEWD drawings of themselves in their love's sketchbooks 😏😏

The Slashers reacting to their S/O’s lewd sketches of them:

Thomas Hewitt 

Honestly...good for his self esteem. The sketches are definitely surprising to him, he wasn’t expecting them and he supposes it’s a way of reminding him why he shouldn’t go nosing around in your belongings. He’s definitely flustered but you must think rather highly of him to draw these...and looking at himself through your eyes, he can see himself more positively.

Still very flustered though. You drew these...adding all those details. Yeah, he’s extra thankful for the mask right now because he’s blushing. When you catch him with your sketchbook in hand, he’s even more flustered, and very apologetic. Will blush every time he sees those sketchbooks.

Michael Myers 

That usual stoic expression as he presents you with them. He places the open book down in front of you, lewd sketches of himself on the pages. You look up at him with wide eyes, unable to tell what he was thinking or feeling, as usual. He just looks between you and the pages, like he wanted an explanation. So you gave him one, even if you stuttered once or twice.

Silently teases you about it. He is admittedly curious about the images but more amused by your reaction. He doesn’t need to speak to tease you. Hiding the sketchbooks so that you have to ask him for them, randomly placing one of your drawings in front of you, sometimes you even know what he’s thinking just from the way he’s looking at you. And he never fails to get a reaction from you.

Jason Voorhees

Feels like he shouldn’t be looking at these. Even though they’re of him...he feels like they’re private to you. He’s certainly flustered and even more so if you catch him. He won’t approach you about it, that’s all your business, but he isn’t going to hold it against you either. Just maybe blush a bit whenever he sees you for a little while.

It’s a little...freeing. If he had stumbled across these when you first got together, he would be freaked out and probably distanced himself from you for a long time. But now, now that you already have an intimate relationship, that you’re close and you trust each other. It’s actually a little freeing because it’s all the more convincing that all of this is nothing to be ashamed off, something that you’re still trying to help him with.

Brahms Heelshire

Super smug. Look at how good he looks in these! You must really like him and must be really attracted to him to make and keep all of these. He’ll have them spread out around him as he examines each other. He didn’t realise you thought so much about his nude body, he’s going to have to bring this up to you! He has plenty of compliments, not really stopping if you’re flustered by his discovery.

Could you, maybe...do some of yourself? These are nice and everything, very flattering, but he would much prefer having some lewd sketches of you than himself. Oh! Better idea! How about you do some sketches of you both together? He would love those and some would definitely go ‘missing’.

Bo Sinclair

Not sure whether to be smug or freaked out. He just isn’t sure how to feel. It definitely feeds his ego and makes him even more cocky than usual but he also thinks it’s a little strange. He knows you’re an artist and everything but...would a photograph just be easier? No offence, Bo just does understand the artist process. All he knows if he would rather have a picture of you rather than a sketch.

Will tease you about it. Despite all of that, he knows what this means. You just can’t get enough of him, can you? Something about him must enthral you so much that you just have to spend your free time sketching his nudes from memory. That also makes him smirk, you’ve memorised every detail of his body. You’re feeding that ego and it’s your own fault!

Vincent Sinclair

Very flustered under the mask. That mask might be pale but his face his bright red. But does that stop him from flicking through your sketchbook? Not at all! He’s...curious, sure, that’s the word. All of these sketches of him. The artist in him admires the talent and detail. The normal guy in him wonders what you are doing drawing his body. Similar to Thomas, it probably builds his self esteem just a little.

Is more likely to show you his own. Of course he has done plenty of sketches of you, even before you were dating. You inspire him. He might have already shown you one or two but only ever the innocent ones. The more inappropriate ones he didn’t dare share with you. It felt wrong to make them but he loved them, loved you, so much. But you clearly have the same artistic inspiration so...maybe he should show you some of his sketches of you.

Lester Sinclair

Has to double check. Are these really of him? They really look like him. Do you really think he is worthy of drawing and of drawing like...this. Everything was so...accurate. You must have done this from memory, you must know his body better than him at this point. And he found something about that both flattering and...exciting.

Mutual embarrassment. You’re embarrassed because he found your sketches, he’s embarrassed because you just walked in on him flexing in the mirror. He was trying to see what you see! He’s just had an ego boost! He’s honest with you though, you don’t have to be embarrassed. He’s very flattered and they’re really good. And, well...you don’t have to stop drawing them.

Bubba Sawyer

This is him? Of course it’s him, it looks exactly like him, and who else would you be drawing in these...situations. He’s a little flustered but any of that is wiped away by his curiosity. He’s able to look past the lewdness of it all, just so proud of your talent. Then he focuses back on exactly what it was you were drawing and blushes ten times harder.

Let’s just hide these a little better, yeah? They’re very good, very impressive, and he likes them. But he couldn’t even imagine the teasing both you and he would get from his brothers if they found any of these. You both agree that they’re just for the two of you.

Billy Lenz 

Naughty, dirty, little Y/n...As soon as he sees the first one, he’s grabbing the book and heading for the attic to properly relax and examine them. Muttering to himself the whole time about how naughty you are for drawing these. And when you get home, he’s scurrying to meet you, forcing the sketchbook into your hands. Wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear all about your pretty drawing.

Maybe you should do more of these...including you. Really, he thinks they’re wonderful, very talented, very detailed. You should do more! But do you know what might be better? If you did some more of him that included you, wouldn’t that just be so much better, Y/n? Will keep his favourites up in the attic.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Teases you about it. He just likes seeing you flustered, that’s it really. And this is the perfect opportunity. He’ll be sitting in the lounge, them spread out on the coffee table, two in his hands as he examines them. They’re good, he will give you that, but the look on your face when you find him like that is even better.

Becomes determined to make these sketches a reality. Asa now sees this as a challenge almost. Whatever fantasies you have put to paper, he wants to make them real. Every position, location, whatever it is, you will both work your way through them. Not that it feels like work.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Appreciates the art form. He prefers videos but he appreciates your preference for drawing. He particularly appreciates your art when it paints him in such a positive light. So you have these drawing of him...can he have some videos of you?

He’s not bashful about it. He’s flattered! He sees your talent and compliments you on it. But his new favourite thing to do? Taking one of those drawings and placing it down in front of you, making you look up at him, wide eyed and flustered. But it gets the message across just fine, this is the sketch he would like to recreate tonight. You’re pretty sure he only does it to make you flustered though.

Otis Driftwood

Is surprised but will tease you about it. He definitely wasn’t expecting this but it’s better than anything he could have guessed you liked drawing. It definitely inflates his ego that you’re drawing him at all and the fact that most of them are so lewd is even better to him. He doesn’t think they’re any need to be embarrassed or ashamed, they’re really good! But he can’t resist teasing you about your infatuation with him.

Will definitely show you his own (if he hasn’t already). It’s perfectly possible that he’s already showed you his pornographic sketches of you, and he has a lot of the. But if he hasn’t, this will definitely get him too. You show him yours and he’ll show you his, it’s only fair even to him. Plus he hopes it will encourage you to share any future sketches with him.

Baby Firefly

Is flattered and think you’re cute when you blush about it. She’s honestly just flattered and impressed. They’re good! You’re so talented! But if you’re embarrassed or blushing about her finding them, she will both compliment and reassure you while teasing you just a little. You’re too cute to not tease at least a bit.

Will pose for you in future. Baby doesn’t really have any embarrassment about this kind of stuff, and she clearly has nothing to be ashamed off if you keep making these. So of course she will pose for you, she might even get more into it than you.

Yautja (Predator) 

Are these for...science? No? When he first finds them, he believes them to be studies of his anatomy. He is curious about your race and it makes sense that you’d be interested in his, wanting to learn as much as you want. But as he kept looking through the sketches, he could see that these were not scientific.

Flattered. He’s not going to get flustered, this type of stuff doesn’t really bother him. He feels a sense of pride that you admire him so much to put your time into these, he’s also impressed by their accuracy.

[byunbaekby]

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

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

—DAY ONE.

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

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

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You love her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST NIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he wants you.

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

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

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

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

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

“You’re giving it up or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST TASTE.

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

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

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

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

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

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

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

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

Does he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want a puff.”

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

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

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

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

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

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” is his response.

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

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

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

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw drops. 

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

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

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just need to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

—THE FIRST CRASH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tease me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

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

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

Cocaine. 

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

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

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathless, you nod without words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

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

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

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

Luckily, neither will find out. 

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

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

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

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

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

But that hadn’t happened.

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

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

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

—THE FIRST BURN.

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

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

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

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

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

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

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

It’s the cocaine. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

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

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

God, he’s fucked up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 

But you’re not alone. 

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson. 

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 

[junko-and-riri-domain]

push and pulls | ot7

↬ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader ↬ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: fluff | requested | headcannon (paragraph form) ↬ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none ↬ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: anon ↬ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴀs: “cat and dog relationship with classmate!enhypen ? hehe headcannon or any format that you're comfy with :3  they could be highschool sweethearts in the end too 😭” ↬ ᴀ/ɴ:

i tried i'm sorry if this sucks 🤧

jake and jay’s are are like semi-suggestive (i think?) imma just say that they are semi-suggestive to be safe

i aint gonna lie i’m a sucker for Jay cooking 😪

jake & hoon’s are kinda short bc it’s like 1 am rn 

Heeseung

Heeseung has always been good at everything no matter what it is. It isn’t to discredit any of his effort whatsoever, but as the school year continues everyone knows that things are just natural for Heeseung. Ever since your freshman year of high school, you’ve seen him as your main competition for 1st place in school. The problem? This man isn’t even aware of it. To you, he just breathes and wins the competitions, gets all the attention, and is at the top of everything. To him, it’s the only way you’ll even notice him. The competitions? It gives him a chance to stay after school to be with you. The attention? He’s only focused on yours. Him at the top of everything? Well, that one’s just because he’s Lee Heeseung. It’s after school one day and the both of you have stayed to help clean up the classes for extra credit. Like a thief with a bagful of stolen glances, his eyes drift to you whenever you don’t notice. Except for this one time.

“Stop looking at me!” you say, your eyes glaring at him. He’s taken aback as he never meant to offend you.

“Sorry,” he said, thinking that you’d just leave it at that. But instead,

“I know you’re fricking judging me Lee Heeseung.”

“What?”

“I can feel it in your eyes. I’ll always be second to you and I get it, you don’t need to rub it in, so just stop!” You throw the rag at the window, walking out of the classroom and he’s left alone wondering what the hell just happened. And suddenly the gap between first place and second begins to grow. To him, staying after school to study for competitions are no longer fun when you won’t even tell him to be quiet when he starts to sing. Your attention is gone just like his sanity. Being at the top never felt so lonely when you weren’t next to him. To you, staying after school becomes something you dread because of the silence in the room that you caused. Your attention seems as if it’s on everything but him but every day you have a hundred thoughts and all of them are infected with him. The two of you enter yet another school competition, making it to the top 3. Yet, unlike previous times, neither of you is in first place.

“In first place, we have Sim Jaeyun!” the announcer says. You and Heeseung look at each other in shock that the other wasn’t on the podium. Yet, you couldn’t care less. Because not getting first place causes you to go off on a rant that Heeseung joins in on. Staying after school turns into study partners at the nearby cafe which becomes study dates. Both of your attention is openly on the other. And while you’re both at the top academically, you become the couple goals everyone wishes they could achieve.

“ace of my heart 💞” you caption an Instagram post of a picture of Heeseung.

rest of the boys under the cut!

Jay

Culinary class is peaceful for Jay. He has control of everything, knows where the ingredients and cooking tools are, can do something he loves, and did we mention control of everything? As a chef, he learned what you were like the first few weeks of class. You were messy with apple peels next to the lime squeezer, engaging in a way of cooking that you defined as “organized chaos.” You didn’t use measurements, cooked things by eye, and used whatever seasonings felt right. It wasn’t that you were bad at cooking, he actually enjoyed your dishes. But your process was just something he couldn’t stand. And maybe he doesn’t really like you since you accidentally used the last of his honey when making cupcakes but that’s a story for another day. The culinary teacher decided to try something new to promote teamwork and for a week, the class would be in partners and cooking a dish new to both people. And who did Jay just have to end up with? You. As the two of you read the recipe for your first dish which was a dessert of sorts,

“What do you wanna use first, jackfruit or durian?” he asked. You looked up at him, a teasing smile on your lips,

“Durian, because it looks like you,” you said before making your way to the table where all the ingredients were.

“Inner peace,” he muttered to himself as he watched you walk off. The next day, you were making peach tarts.

“Yah, Jay, look here,” you said as you held up your phone and the peach. In the photo you took, the peach was next to Jay’s face, sort of comparing the two.

“Why’d you take a picture of me?” he asked. He didn’t really mind photos, knowing full well how good he looked but you taking one of him came completely out of the blue. As you glanced up from your phone after hitting post, you were unable to stop your laugh,

“Your hair looks like a peach,” you said with a wink as you went back to cutting the ingredients.

“Do I just, do I just look like food now?” he muttered to himself with a huff.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind eating you,” you teased. You were smooth, he’d give you that. But, damn, he wanted to make you feel the way you were making him feel right now.

It didn’t take long for you to learn that Jay’s way of teasing made you flustered as hell. If you’d ask him to hand you something, he’d hold it above your head forcing you to have to jump up. It just so happened that he did this once right in front of someone else’s station and as you jumped, you almost knocked into them which led to his arm around you,

“Watch where you’re going,” he warned with a teasing edge as he handed you the carrots.

When you handed him something, he’d take it in a way that his hand held yours for a second but that second was enough. As the two of you cooked together, you entered your own world with no one else but the other in it. He was patient with your organized chaos, his own habits finding a place alongside your cooking routine. For the last day of working as partners, you two were to bake cookies. You put in a pinch of salt then some sugar when suddenly,

“YAH!” you hear from next to you. Met with Jay’s wide eyes as he looked in the bowl where you put the salt and sugar,

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I told you to taste the salt and sugar before you used it.”

“The first one tasted like salt so I put more of the second one.” He took a pinch of the sugar already in the mixing bowl then tasted it, a disgusted look appearing on his face”

“You put salt then more salt, good job y/n.”

“Huh?” He took another pinch then brought it up to your lips and as you tasted it,

“Why the hell is there two kinds of salt here!”

“One’s fine, the other’s coarse. I wanted to eat these y’know.”

“Fine, head over to my place after school and we can make cookies together.”

“That’s not funny. You can’t mess with cookies,” he muttered.

“Who said I was joking? We can even drizzle honey over it.”

Jake

Perfection doesn’t even begin to describe Sim Jaeyun. A gentleman, kind, smart, has an accent that you can’t help but sometimes tease him about, and obsessed with Layla were all things you couldn’t fault him for. But sometimes, just sometimes, he could be a little too nice. You couldn’t help but feel jealous at the sight of the girl chatting with Jake by the benches and her feeling his arm up.

“Geez, tell her to go away!” you wanted to say to him as you started walking towards them.

“Hey,” Jake said with a smile as his eyes landed on you. The same smile he smiled at her with.

“Are you ready to go?” you asked, trying not to sound pissed but couldn’t help yourself.

“Yeah hold up.” Jake looked at the girl, “Just text if you need help with anything else on the homework,” he said before walking off with you.

“Who was that?” you asked as the two of you made your way to the cafeteria.

“New girl, needs help with physics so she asked me for help.” Jake was supposed to help you with physics.

“You gonna help her on Tuesdays?” you asked, referring to the day Jake always helped you. If he did notice your jealousy, he didn’t say anything about it. Oh, but he did notice. And he kind of wanted to edge it on to see how far things would go.

“Should I? She can hangout with me and Layla.”

“See if she likes me better than Layla.”

“Might take you up on the offer, watch your words, y/n,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yeah? You introduce her to Layla and I’ll divorce you then take full custody.”

“I didn’t know we were married, don’t we gotta go out on a date first?”

“I don’t know, do we?”

“Let’s do it right now then.”

“Fine! Wait what-?”

Sunghoon

On the ice, you and Sunghoon went together like sugar and tea. Off the ice, you two were like the coarse salt that ruined the cookies in Jay’s fic. You and Sunghoon skated well together, putting on a performance that typically got you first place, but that’s exactly what it was. A performance. An act. Nothing more, nothing less. Neither of you talked when you saw each other after practice the next day at school. Neither of you actively told anyone that you knew each other more than most couples did. But there was just something about talking to Sunghoon outside of ice skating, acknowledging that there you had an ice skating persona as well as the persona you showed to everyone else, that frightened you. So both of you made an unspoken agreement that you’d keep your ice skater lives in the rink and outside of it. Except for right now where the transfer student who coincidentally just so happened to be an ice skater and was wondering if you’d be his partner for the upcoming showcase.

“Y/n already has a partner,” Sunghoon said, cutting in as he stood next to you. The transfer student’s eyes settled on Sunghoon,

“You’re Park Sunghoon, the guy who-”

“Almost made it into the Olympics? Yeah. And y/n and I are gonna do it together this year.” You weren’t quite sure how to feel about Sunghoon suddenly “claiming” you (not in a toxic way whatsoever, we don’t condone that here). But you did know that this meant Sunghoon knew of your existence outside of the rink.

“Says who?” you said, trying to see how this would go. He looked at you, fear flashing in his eyes at the thought of the two of you not doing this together.

“I thought, I thought we were? Are we not? We have our outfits planned and everything.”

“I mean… plans change, Hoon.” That nickname, the one only you were allowed to use for him.

“Do you not wanna do it together?”

“I’m just gonna… go,” the transfer student said.

“I do wanna do it together.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“We kinda don’t have a relationship outside of the rink, Hoon.”

“We can make one, then. Right now.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Sunoo

You’ve always held a level of jealousy towards Sunoo. Sunoo has always been the guy who’s everyone’s friend even if he’s popular, the type of guy who waves at everyone, greets them with a smile on their face, and gets people to attend class/school events. Whereas you’re more on the introverted side, not really liking people. When it’s lunchtime, you tend to eat alone not really giving a damn about everyone else. You’re not exactly an outcast, just more comfortable  by yourself. You’ve always been jealous of how Sunoo’s open to people, talkative, and just overall likable. Because unlike him, people think you’re being mean when you’re quiet and it looks like you’re not listening to whatever it is they’re saying. Around school, Sunoo has earned the nickname Sunny while you’ve been given the nickname Winter. Everyone sees how you walk away whenever Sunoo waves at you in the halls. Everyone is aware of how you scoff whenever Sunoo does aegyo in front of you. Everyone notices how you get mad whenever he links his arm with yours. But it’s Sunoo who sees the glint in your eyes the second they meet his by your locker. It’s Sunoo who notices the slight smile that plays at the corner of your lips whenever he calls himself “ddeonu.” And it’s Sunoo who’s aware that no matter how much you protest when your arms link, you’re never the one to let go first. So he sits at the desk in front of yours during lunch, chatting his butt off about his day while stealing bites of your lunch. He gives you face masks with the excuse of “it was a buy one get one free deal and I don’t know who else to give it to.” He asks if he can style your hair playing it off as “practice.” Little by little, you begin to open up. When you see him in the halls, you start to give him a smile reserved only for him. When he does aegyo you tease him by saying that Jake does it better. And when he links his arms with yours, your pinkies intertwine. You bring an extra bag of chips for lunch and start making your portions larger to share with him. You invite him to the mall since you saw an online promo while walking by. You start to enjoy the way he plays with your hair, sometimes even craving his touch. Because we all know, the sun has its way of melting ice. 

Jungwon

Yang Jungwon, the class president, has a 100% success rate in getting field trip forms submitted on time. Well, it would be 100% if it weren’t for you. It seems as if you’ve made it your life’s mission to do everything and anything that’ll piss off Jungwon. Every time there’s a permission slip that needs to get signed, he constantly finds himself having to remind you of it so that it’d get turned in on time. Yet despite this, you always turn it in a day later. When things are kind of slow in class, you’re always talking to someone and have earned the title of the chatty kid no matter where the teacher makes you sit. Jungwon has no clue how someone as big of a procrastinator as you, always chatting with people when you don’t need to, and has your music playing so loud that everyone else hears, gets the good grades that you do. But regardless of what you do, you don’t bring down the class average so he’ll give you that. It’s time for a new seating arrangement and where does the teacher have you sit? Right next to him. So he’s dreading it, knowing that for the next 2 weeks he won’t get any work done, have to deal with you chatting to everyone, and has to be the one to catch you up when you enter class late.

“Hey,” you say with a smile as you settle in the seat next to his. He likes your smile, he won’t lie. But you’re annoying as hell. One week goes by as a back and forth of you constantly making efforts to get on Jungwon’s nerves but he returns the favor while teasing you back. With the two of you as partners, he starts to notice some things about you. Things like how you play with your thumb before raising your hand to answer the question. He sees that your notes are full of rushed scribbles and you dot your i’s close to the center but not just there. Your binder is covered with artwork of things you like and photos of you and your friends. Amidst your chattiness and tardiness, he finds himself looking forwards to certain things. He looks forward to your messy hair as you rush in 15 minutes late and start scribbling your notes in an effort to catch up. He looks forwards to how your conversations become a distraction from lectures. And he wonders to himself, what it’d be like if he were a photo in your binder.

As the second week continues, you start to see things differently with Jungwon. His reminders become less annoying and more useful as you take it in mind. When you’re late, he already has a second copy of the notes waiting for you on your desk. He buys you stickers for your binder using the excuse of “I stole it from my sister.” Before either of you realize it, it’s time for a new seating chart.

“Guess you’re happy to get rid of me, Wonie,” you joke as the two of you stood up to head to your new seats.

“I want you to sit across from me,” you hear him say.

“Huh?”

“At the Eggy Cafe on our first date,” he says before heading to his new seat.

Ni-ki

Dance class, it’s exhausting. Countless hours spent practicing a choreography that only lasts for a few minutes. Constantly getting yelled at by your teacher when you take a wrong step. Continuously in an unspoken competition with the best dancer of the school, Nishimura Riki. Ni-ki fools around during practices, usually to get on your nerves. Whenever you buy bungeoppang at the stall in front of the school, half of it instantly belongs to Ni-ki as he takes a bite when you’re not looking. Whenever the two of you are the only ones who’ve got the choreography down, sometimes you’ll slow things down to piss him off. There’s a flow to Ni-kis dances that no one else can replicate, a flow he was born with and can never be taught. Everyone, including him, is aware of this. But you’ve always been different from everyone else. All his life, he’s been told how good at dancing he is but you criticize him. While the others applaud his performance, your eyes are watching his every move. He almost hates how well you can spot the mistakes he can’t even see on himself. But as time goes on, these little competitions start to develop between you two, even outside of dance. When dance class ends, the two of you race to see who’ll get to the bungeoppang stall first. Last one there pays for bungeoppang. This is the competition you let Ni-ki win, using “I’m already tired from dancing” as an excuse. In the mornings, you compete to get to first period. Loser pays for lunch. This is the competition where there’s a middle ground between you two. Sometimes you win, sometimes he wins, other times you enter class together. When walking home, you compete to get to the bottom of the stairs at the subway station first. Whoever loses has to carry the other’s bag until you get home. Ni-ki lets you win this one, using “If I ran any faster I’d trip,” as an excuse. These small competitions become the things you look forward to throughout the week, enjoying the thrill of small moments with Ni-ki. At one point, the two of you (on separate occasions) talked to Jungwon about the competitions, telling your side. To the both of you, he says the same thing. “Why don’t you see who asks the other out first and plans the better date?”

❦ written by riri (@enhykkul)  | blog masterlist

requests are currently open! rules can be found here | anon emojis

[mediocre-writerr]

don’t blame me [emily prentiss]

emily prentiss x fem reader

requested: i have a emily prentiss request! reader and emily have been fighting and something happens to the both of them and they make up at the end

“Emily please!” you placed your head in your hands as you were having yet another argument in your shared apartment.

You took a deep breath as she started yelling again, “What Y/N?! Are you cheating on me with Spencer?” 

“What?” you ask, giving her an incredulous look. 

“You two have been awfully close lately.” she points out.

Spencer has always been your best friend. Ever since you joined the BAU together and being the youngest out of the pack. The two of you grew an instant bond despite all of his annoying knowledge. 

“We’ve always been close Em! Do you really not trust me that much?” you ask, looking up at her. 

She just stood there unsure of what to say. But the silence said it all, she didn’t trust you. 

“We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you don’t trust me. Got it.” you whisper, getting up to pack an overnight bag. 

Emily didn’t say anything. She just stood there and watched. Tears stinging her eyes. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. I’ll be at JJ’s.” you whisper, leaving the apartment.

Emily didn’t know what to say. She was running thoughts through her mind. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. This was the longest relationship she’s ever been in (Doyle does not count). 

I guess she was scared. She didn’t want to ruin it so she was self-exploding the relationship herself. Making Y/N hate her until she eventually runs off so she doesn’t have to deal with the pain of Y/N breaking up with her on her own.

You found yourself at JJ and Will’s house, knocking on their front door. 

JJ opened the door confused, but with a small smile on her face, “Y/N, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” 

“Emily and I got into another fight. She thinks I’m cheating on her with Spence.” you say, “Can I stay here tonight?” 

“Of course. Come in, we can talk more about it here.” she whispers. 

Will comes down the stairs, “Hey Y/N, it’s nice to see you again...” 

He continued talking, but you couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. So you stuck with the pleasantries, “It’s good to see you too.” 

JJ poured the two of you a glass of wine as you curled up onto the couch. Henry came running into your lap when he saw you on the way to say goodnight to his mom. 

“Hey bud!” you say ruffling his blonde hair. 

“Hi.” he whispers meekly as you gave him a squeeze. 

You smile at the boy as he hugs his mom goodnight. 

You start to explain everything to her from the past week of the two of you just going at each other’s throats. And even though you were a part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you had a hard time reading Emily. 

Or anyone who wasn’t a killer/kidnapper/arsonist. 

“Y/N, remember that this is her first actual long-term relationship?” JJ says giving her a piece of the puzzle and you nod not understanding her point, “And you know that her relationships haven’t quite worked out in the past?”

“Mhm, I don’t see your point.” you say, completely clueless.

“You do work the BAU correct?” JJ asks laughing. 

You roll your eyes softly, “Duh.” 

“I think you should talk to her. Just ask her what’s going on and go from there.” she suggests and you nod, “Get some rest, we don’t know when Hotch is gonna call.” 

You didn’t understand what JJ was trying to get at. Emily was the best thing that ever happened to you and you would never break her heart in anyway. But the past few days she’s been breaking your heart.

Something she always promised she wouldn’t do.

As JJ expected not even three hours into your sleep, you were woken up by a phone call from Hotch talking about some unsub in Newport, Rhode Island. 

The two of you slowly got ready as the lack of sleep the two of you were experiencing was apparent. JJ drove you two to the BAU headquarters. As you exited the elevator Penelope held a drink carrier in her hand full of hot coffee.

“Thank you.” you whisper to Penelope, shooting her a grateful smile and patting her back. 

As you went into the briefing room, Emily was already sitting there next to Derek. Spencer was also sitting there across from Em with a small smile on his face. 

You walked around the table greeting everyone. You ruffled Spence’s shaggy hair, and fist bumped Derek. Purposefully, avoiding Emily. You didn’t want to talk to her if she doesn’t even trust you. You took the spot next to JJ as you waited for Hotch to come in to give the background. 

“Hello everyone, sorry about the lack of sleep tonight, but this is the fifth death this week.” Hotch says stifling his own yawn, “We have Peter Taylor, age 34, single with no kids. Blunt force trauma to the head before being shot in the heart.” 

Hotch goes over the rest of the victims going all the way to the very beginning. All of them had the same MO’s: blunt force trauma and being shot in the heart. They were also men around the same age. 

He was about to continue on as everyone pitched ideas for what kind of killer this unsub may be, but Hotch got a call. He stepped out of the room and as we waited, Spence kicked your leg softly from under the table. 

Sliding you a note from his notebook: Are you and Em okay?

You quickly wrote down a response: Honestly, no. 

That’s all you put. He read it trying to study, both you and her. Emily noticed the little exchange of notes that was passed. It was enough to make her feel insecure about her own state. Passing notes like they were back in elementary school. 

But maybe this was for the best, Emily thought. 

“Alright guys, we gotta go, there was another body found.” Hotch says, “Wheels up, like now.”

“His killing time is shortening which means he’s gonna go out of control.” Derek says and we all look at each other with determination in our eyes. 

All of you headed onto the plane in a flash. Every time you were on the plane you took the spot next to Emily. It was a little thing the two of you did, basking in the comfort and the safety of each other before going out into the dangerous field. 

Sort of like a good luck charm.

But this time was different. Emily waited for you expectedly to take the seat next to her, but you didn’t. You took a seat by yourself, away from the rest of the group. The entire team eyed each other, all of them concerned at the couple’s behavior recently.

You put your headphones drowning out the rest of the noise, trying to get much sleep as possible. 

When you arrived in Newport, the air was cool as the costal breeze hit your hair. The smell of the salty sea filling your nostrils. You loved being along the coast, it was one of your favorite things. 

It brought you calmness and peace. 

You and the rest of the team got to work as you reached the police station. Hotch paired the team off as per usual, pairing you and Em to go check out the most recent body. 

The two of you walked together in silence, neither of you knew what to say. It wasn’t the comfortable silence the two of you have while lying in bed watching whatever was on the TV. It was an awkward silence of you at your breaking point in the relationship, not understanding what’s wrong. 

“Blunt force to the head, shot to the heart. This is an act of our guy.” Emily says softly, the first time that you were speaking since last night. 

You looked down at the body and noticed a little paper sticking out of his pocket. Picking it up with your glove, you opened it as it read three simple words.

Don’t Blame Me

“Don’t blame me?” you say, more of a rhetorical question than anyone else. 

“What?” she asks.

You hand her the note, “It says don’t blame me.” I whisper.

The handwriting didn’t look a man’s handwriting. It was neat and polished. Men’s handwriting are usually messy and sometimes illegible. 

You start to walk away from the scene finished with the crime scene, leaving her behind. When Em notices you’re gone she immediately starts running after you.

“Y/N!” she yells, finally catching up to you and spinning you to face her, “What’s the matter with you?” she asks.

You scoff in response, “Tell me why.” 

“Why what?!” she asks, yelling, frustrated with how cold you’re being to her.

“Why don’t you trust me?”

“Y/N I-” she paused struggling for what else to say, but nothing was coming out.

She was left speechless, just like she was when you left the night before. 

You nod, “Never mind. Come talk to me when you’re ready.” you whisper, disappointedly. 

As the day went on you learned more and more about the unsub. The team gathered more clues and realized that all of the victims were connected to one women. 

Hayley Nolan, a bartender at the famous bar in town. She was 26 and very popular with the guys and gals around town. 

Whoever this unsub was targeted all of the men who flirted with her. She wasn’t married or had any kids. But she was in a relationship with a one Matthew Grimes. 

We interrogated Matthew, but checked all of his alibi’s that he was at work every night of the attacks. 

You and the team were in Hayley’s home, making sure to keep a cop with her at all times. When you took a look around the house as you watched the time go by, you realized that Matthew still wasn’t back yet.

“Hayley? Where did Matthew say he was going?” you ask as you entered the living room again. 

She shook her head trying to remember, “He said he was going to the gym, but that was a couple hours ago.”

All of you shared nervous glances as you realized that he was probably in danger right now. Reid and JJ come bursting into the room, “We found out who the unsub is.”

“Hayley, does the name Taylor Hunt ring a bell?” Reid asks as he sits down on one of the chairs in the living area. 

Hayley nods softly, “Yeah. She’s one of the regulars at the bars.”

“Does she ever seem protective when someone tries to flirt with you?” you ask.

“Yeah, all the time. I always thank her for it by giving her free drink. Why?” and then it all starts piecing together for her, “Oh my gosh. You don’t think she-” 

JJ squeezes her hand softly, “You see Taylor is living in her own little fantasy world. Making her believe that you’re flirting with her and want to be with her. When in reality you’re just being nice. So she kills off anyone who she thinks is a threat.” 

“We need to find Matthew now.” Derek says sternly. 

You and him run out of the house and into one of the vans. Driving your way as quickly as possible to the gym.

Your phone started to ring and you answered it, your eyes scanning the road you were driving on, “Police called and said they’re inside the gym. Hostage situation. Me and Prentiss are right behind you.” Hotch says. 

Making your way into the gym, the two of you noticed that you Hotch and Emily were already in there. Both of them had their guns away so both of you put your guns away. 

When Taylor saw us come into the room, she pointed her gun towards us. But Emily was quick to intervene.

“Hey, it’s okay. They won’t hurt you. I know how you feel.” Emily says softly, trying to get through to her. 

“You do?” Taylor asks.

Emily nods and you were intrigued at where she was going with this, “I know how it feels to love someone so much you’re scared everyday that you’re gonna lose them. Everyone is so intrigued by them and they’re so beautiful and funny that you can’t help but feel that she’ll choose someone else.”

Your tilt your head to the side as Emily makes a quick side glance to you.

“But the difference is that you’re stronger than me. You’re trying to protect what you have with Hayley. I tend to just cause useless fights because I’m scared that they’ll break my heart. So instead of being surprised by the heartbreak, I explode our relationship.” Emily adds on. 

And everything finally starts clicking. Everything JJ was trying to say, all of it.

“Now you don’t want to do that so if you really love Hayley, I need you to put the gun down. And let Matthew go.” she whispers.

Taylor lets out a quiet sob before putting down the gun and letting Matthew go. Em goes over to her and puts her hand behind her back, handcuffing her. Hotch takes her to the cop car while Morgan tends to Matthew’s wounds. 

You ran over to your girlfriend embracing her in a huge hug. She holds you close and tight, like she’s afraid that you might walk away again.

Taking your hand you place it underneath her chin to get her to look at you, “I love you. And I am never gonna break your heart. I promise.” 

[thepartyresponsible]

this soundtrack fill is for kittenlzlz, who i cannot tag because it’s all sabotage all the time over here. also, i'm sorry, i didn’t realize you’d changed your prompt until after i wrote this one, so this is for the first thing you sent in.

anyway, here’s some dystopian sci-fi angst for sam and bucky with a hopeful ending. the song for this one is “achilles come down” by gang of youth.

                                                         —

When he was young, Sam spent thirty-seven weeks in New Mexico, learning how to keep people alive until evac. That others may live was a motto they preferred to operationalize rather than idealize, and, without the EMT training, pararescue tended to turn into high-risk body retrieval. So he spent the better part of a year learning how to keep a body breathing, and he learned, also, how to recognize when any effort was likely to be wasted.

Which is how he knows that what he’s looking at isn’t fully human. Because a human would already be dead.

It’s the blood that tells him, more than anything else. The Chitauri bleed a thick, dark blue substance that goes black if their cybernetics are leaking. And there’s plenty of blue and black puddled on the asphalt, but that red is a hemoglobin gift, and that means it’s all human.

“Shit, man,” Sam says, crouching next to the only human at this massacre. “You could keep a blood bank in business all by yourself.”

The man lifts his head and blinks at him, slow and a little dazed. Not dazed enough, though. He can almost focus on Sam’s face. “Not anymore,” he says, after a beat.

More blood bubbles up at the corners of his mouth. Sam can see it between his teeth.

“Yeah,” Sam says. And he laughs, because he might as well. Because he came out here with a team of ten to clean out the aliens, and it looks like one guy did their work for them. “Guess not.”

He’s a pathetic sight, really. Ragged body armor, hair clumped together, skin sticky with blood and ichor. He’s belly down on the cracked parking lot, and there’s a smear of blood behind him, showing exactly how far he’s managed to drag himself.

Sam’s not excited about what he’s going to see, when he rolls this guy over on his back.

“You gonna fight me if I help you?” he asks.

Most of them, these Enhanced, the surviving Super Soldiers, they can’t help it. Sam’s had to put a few down himself, although not for a while now. It’s been almost a year since he had to kill anything with a human face.

The man sighs. He rests his forehead against the asphalt, closes his eyes. His fingers flex and then go still. “I don’t know,” he says.

That others may live, Sam thinks. But the problem has always been that lives are balanced on both sides of the scales, and, sometimes, saving one means sacrificing another.

This man killed fifteen Chitauri, and he did it alone. There are kids back at the base. Vulnerable people.

The safest choice would be to leave him here. Let him save himself, if he can. But Sam’s never really been the safe choice type.

“Okay,” he says, hands curling around his shoulders, carefully rolling the man over on his back, “let’s see the damage.”

It’s enough to kill a human. But that’s not really what he’s dealing with.

                                                           —    

The Super Soldiers were a desperation play. Sam was supposed to be one of them. The best of Earth’s fighters, dosed with serum, patched up with cybernetics based on Chitauri tech, sent out to face the enemies that had invaded the planet.

Sam’s still not sure exactly how it happened, what level of their defenses failed. He only knows failure by its consequences.

The neural implants were hacked. The soldiers turned against their people. Sam, who’d been four days out from his own procedure, was shifted to a team tasked with hunting them down and eliminating them.

These days, there aren’t many left. There’s not much of anyone left. The Chitauri fundamentally misunderstood their target. Sam could’ve warned them. The species of mutually assured destruction was never going to die quiet.

He thinks about that while the Soldier sleeps, chained to a bed in a locked basement in an abandoned building two miles from the base. Sam keeps watch. He has a radio in case anything goes wrong, but he doesn’t intend to use it for anything other than warning them what’s coming.

“I could’ve been you,” Sam tells him. And then, smiling at nothing, shaking his head, “Hell, you could’ve been me.”

He wonders where he’s from. He wonders what his name is.

He wonders, when he can’t help it, what he did. If he ever killed anyone Sam used to know.

                                                           —    

The Soldier sleeps for forty hours and then sits straight up in bed, rips the chains off his wrists like they’re pipe cleaners, and then turns to face Sam. “What the hell,” he says.

“Oh, well,” Sam says, too startled to be afraid. “Didn’t want anyone stealing you.”

The Soldiers makes a face at him, an incredulous sneer that twists up his mouth and pulls his dark eyebrows together, and he looks so human, so perfectly skeptical, that Sam starts laughing.

“Well,” he says, with a shrug, “you killed fifteen aliens with a tire iron. You’re a treasure.”

“And I want it back.” he says, immediately. “Where’s my tire iron?”

“Confiscated,” Sam says.

He glares, and Sam‘s probably meant to be intimidated, but he knows – they both know – that, if this guy wanted to scare Sam, he could just start breaking bones. Or walls. “I want it back when I leave.”

“Leave,” Sam repeats. He kicks back in his chair, balances on the back legs as he swings his feet up onto the Soldier’s bed. “Why’re you leaving?”

The Soldier stares at Sam’s booted feet near his knees. “Usually it’s the fact that I’m a timebomb that chases me off,” he says, “but it looks like your manners are the real horrorshow around here.”

Sam grins at him. He’s merciless about it, uses the most charming smile in his arsenal. He expects the guy to soften a bit, but he’s not expecting the doubletake he gets, the there-and-away bounce of his stare, like Sam’s suddenly something he wants to look at but doesn’t want to get caught looking at.

Huh, he thinks.

“When’s the last time you hurt someone?” Sam asks.

The Soldier’s face crumples up and then flattens out. “What is this? Some kinda trial? An interrogation?”

“If this were an interrogation, I wouldn’t’ve given you the soft pillows,” Sam tells him.

The Soldier doesn’t look like he buys it. But, after a moment, he tips his head to the side. “Probably wouldn’t want to get blood on these white sheets,” he acknowledges.

“Christ,” Sam says, because that more or less seems to be the only thing he could possibly say to something like that.

The Soldier shrugs. He brushes his hair away from his face, blinks, and gives Sam a skeptical sideways stare. “Did you wash my hair?”

“With a firehose,” Sam confirms. “Damn near shaved the whole thing off. You were a mess, man.”

He shrugs. “It’s messy work.”

And, sure, it is. Sam knows. His base is the first resettlement outpost in this region. They’ve been clearing Chitauri out of the area for months.

But he still takes a damn shower whenever possible.

“Who were you?” Sam asks. “Before the program?”

The Soldier looks away. Looks at nothing. After a long pause, he recites, careful and rote, “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 107th.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “James. When’s the last time you hurt a human being?”

He worries at his lower lip, teeth pressing into the skin. He’s quiet for a very long time. “Thirteen months, ten days,” he says, finally.

Sam considers the timeline. “You think it’s over?”

“I think the implant’s in my fucking brain,” he says. “It’ll be over at brain death.”

“It’s just a chip,” Sam says. “It’s not sentient. Someone’s gotta send the message, right?”

The Soldier’s jaw works. “Even if the aliens stay out, there’s gonna be plenty of people who want to use someone like me, as soon as they rebuild enough to manage.”

It’s a hell of thing, and it could’ve been Sam.

He nudges the Soldier’s knee with his boot, and the Soldier stares at the point of contact. He doesn’t look angry anymore. If Sam had to use a word to describe the expression on the Soldier’s face, he thinks he’d use something bittersweet and barbed, something like lonely or longing.

“Gonna be a long damn time before anyone’s rebuilt,” he says.

“Aliens could have reinforcements here at any time,” the Soldier says.

“Maybe,” Sam says, although he thinks they might’ve learned some kind of lesson. At the very least, they’ve probably learned that it’s just not worth the effort.

“Look,” Sam says. “I think you should come back to the base.”

“No,” he says. Immediate and definite, louder then he’s been so far.

Sam expected it. Maybe part of him hoped for it. “Okay,” he says. “Then we’ll stay here. And, when you’re better, I want you to take a radio. And I want you to check in with us. All right? Every day.”

The Soldier stares at him. “Why the hell would you want that?”

Sam smiles, studies the hollows of the Soldier’s face, the scars, the freckles he must’ve earned when he was young, used to play too long in the sun. He has, Sam thinks, beautiful eyes. “There’s not a lot of us left,” he says.

“‘Us,’” the Soldier repeats, scoffing audibly.

“Us,” Sam repeats. He nudges the Soldier’s knee again, and the Soldier cuts his eyes away, glares at the wall. But, a moment later, he shifts, leans his knee into Sam.

                                                         —      

His name is Bucky Barnes. He’s fussy as hell, stubborn beyond belief, helpful every chance he can get, and fond of cats and songbirds. He doesn’t cheat at cards, and he doesn’t accuse Sam of it either, even when Sam beats him damn near every hand.

He’s a good man. Even now.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Sam says. Because it’s been two weeks, and Bucky’s decided he’s well enough to go.

Bucky ducks his head. “Shut up,” he says.

Sam wonders if he was always this head shy about affection.

“C’mere,” he says. “I’ll give you a goodbye kiss.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, practically scuttling away, head still ducked. When he raises it, he’s grinning one of his ghost grins, the ones that almost show who he used to be, like a faint echo of a louder, happier man.

“Okay,” Sam says. “But if I don’t get a goodbye kiss, I’m definitely not gonna talk dirty to you on that radio. You gotta put in the work, Bucky.”

“I hate you,” Bucky tells him, and his crush couldn’t be more obvious. Sam would be embarrassed for him, if he weren’t busy being charmed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says. “Check in every day, or I’m gonna track you down.”

“Hm,” Bucky says. He adjusts his pack on his shoulders. He’s got that tire iron, an alarming number of knives, and two guns. He’s setting off to kill more aliens. He’s going alone. “That supposed to be a threat?”

He was a Barnes in the Army and Sam was a Wilson in the Air Force, and so Bucky is a Super Soldier and Sam is not. It’s unpredictable, sometimes, the way mercy falls.

“Be careful out there,” Sam says, and he knocks his elbow against Bucky’s.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He rolls his eyes and then catches Sam watching, and he blinks, falters. “Yeah,” he says, again. Softer, steadier. A promise, not a joke.

Sam considers him, lets the moment hang. Waits. Sometimes, all Bucky needs is the space and time to make up his own mind.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Bucky says.

“There it is,” Sam says, grinning, almost crowing in triumphant. “There--”

“Oh, Jesus,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes again, getting theatrical about it. “I already regret saying it.”

“Can’t take it back,” Sam taunts, grinning wide and smug.

“I’m going,” Bucky says, and he starts off, doesn’t look back.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam calls, when Bucky’s just about to break through the treeline, disappear into the woods. “I hate to see you go, but I love----”

“Fuck off, Sam!” Bucky says, but he’s laughing, and Sam can still hear it – surprised and happy, fully human – even after Bucky disappears.

[prettyboy-asmo]

Spending time/showing affection to GN!MC (Brothers+Side)

I’ve had terrible writers block lately so I decided to just do some general HC about how the boys show affection/ spend time with MC to hopefully get back into the swing of things.

MC is gender neutral and most of the hcs are written with romance in mind.

pure fluff

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a busy Demon, so He’ll take any time with you he can get, Even if it’s just the both of you sitting in the same room, working on your own things. 

He cherishes the moments when you can both do nothing together- a moment to relax with you. When you get that rare moment with him, he likes to be close to you, sitting close enough your shoulders are brushing or his head in your lap or you on his lap- it doesn’t matter

He also likes taking you out on occasion- a nice dinner, maybe some sort of show, symphony, theatre, if you like it he’ll go. Getting to see you dress up more than usual and knowing his brothers won’t be there to barge in. 

He’s not overly touchy in public, but he’ll usually keep a hand resting on your back around others. 

He’s not as verbal about his affection around others either, but when it’s just you two he tends to be far more open with it. 

An absolute favorite of his, however, is when you get to fall asleep together. He’d never, never admit it to anyone else but getting to fall asleep cuddling you is the best thing for him. Especially when it’s you holding him, when he doesn’t have to worry about anything else besides feeling content in your arms. 

That’s also when the verbal affection becomes more open as well, soft whispers as you drift off to sleep.

Mammon:

When Mammon wants to spend time with you, he usually invites himself into your room and just throws himself on the bed. It doesn’t even really matter if you say anything or not, he’ll scroll his D.D.D. until you finish whatever you were doing and pay attention to him. 

If you take too long though he will start to complain.

If he wants your attention and he has something he needs to do like a modeling shoot, he’ll drag you along. 

No matter what it is though, Mammon is always touchy (Despite how much he denies it) things like a hand lingering on your shoulder, fingers interlaced, leaning on each other's shoulders- he likes to be touching you in some form. 

In public he’s just as clingy, his arm wrapped around your shoulders to hold you close to him, (you should want everyone to know you’re with the great Mammon, after all.)

Loves movie nights with just the two of you. It usually ends up with his head on your shoulder or lap, fingers running through his hair. 

He won’t outright say he wants headpats or your fingers in his hair, but he’ll take your hand and place it on his head without a word (he also won’t make eye contact when he does, poor boy is blushing so hard) 

He’s definitely not as verbal with affection. Though if he notices you’re stressed or having a bad day he doesn’t try as hard to deny his feelings and he’ll remind you how much he cares about you. 

Levi:

Obviously, Levi loves being able to marathon Anime or spend hours playing video games with you. 

At first, it’s you who has to initiate any sort of physical contact. It starts slow, sitting closer together, leaning against him, small things. The more you hangout and the closer you get however, the more used to the idea he gets. 

Eventually, anime nights are spent cuddling while watching whatever show was chosen, and more often than not you find yourself in his lap when you guys play video games While he can still end up a blushing mess sometimes, he’s more comfortable asking for physical contact. 

But it’s not just anime and video games. If you show any interest in cosplay he’ll jump at the chance to create costumes together. If you don’t know how to do something, he offers to teach you. 

As you grow closer, he also grows more vocal with his affection, tells you how happy he is to spend time with you or how glad he is that you actually like him and indulge in his hobbies as well.

If for some reason, you both end up going out in public together, he seems far less hesitant to give physical contact. Usually it’s just him holding your hand (sometimes he’ll absentmindedly swing your hands back and forth)

He also enjoys when you simply sit with him while he plays video games- whether you’re cheering him on, watching him progress through plot, or even doing your own thing on your D.D.D. the fact that you choose to spend time with him is enough to make him feel fluttery in the best ways. 

Satan:

Another one who enjoys the quiet moments with you. He likes to sit with you while reading, just sharing the same space as you is nice. 

He also likes reading to you, and while he’s not very touchy in general he likes to have you close in those moments- especially when it’s you in his lap, leaning back against him and your head on his shoulder or you lounging with your head in his lap. 

As cliche as it is- He’s a sucker for cafe and bookstore dates. He likes to see what kind of books you’ll take interest in, offer his own suggestions and ask you about your favorites, he gets to spend time with you and learn about you at the same time. 

Will find a cat cafe to visit with you or an animal shelter. Lucifer won’t let him get a cat but he can at least enjoy them this way- and since it’s time he also gets to spend with you it’s even better. 

He will absolutely tell you how much he cares for you. He ends up being far more verbal than physical when it comes to affection- he says his fair share of cheesy things (You gotta love it though.) 

Like Lucifer, around others his hand is usually sitting light on your back. 

He’d also love murder mystery dinner theaters and the like. That includes watching true crime documentaries/ unsolved mysteries with you. 

Asmo:

He loves to pamper you. Spa days with just the two of you- offering you new products to try for hair/skin/etc. 

If you let him do your nails he will be absolutely over the moon, even if it’s just a clear coat of polish. 

Asmo is naturally a very touchy person- it’s one of the main ways he shows affection. When you’re spending time together, he’s almost always touching you in some form. Draping an arm over your shoulders, holding your hand, resting his hand on your arm- whatever you’re comfortable with.

It’s not just touch however. He has no issues telling you how much he loves spending time with you, he’s very vocal about everything he likes about you, how much he cares about you.

As much as he likes to stay in for spa days, he also enjoys going out with you. 

Loves to drag you shopping. He loves picking out outfits for you, asking you what kind of style you want and going from there, it’s one of his favorite things to see your eyes light up when you try on his suggestions. 

Will also take you out to the Fall and to some parties. It’s true he thrives off the attention of his fans, but when he takes you with him he’s far more focused on you than his followers.  

He can get extra touchy in public. He wants everyone to know you’re with him. Even if he does interact with his fans, the conversation often swings back around to you and him- “Aren’t they just wonderful? I picked out their outfit myself, it really suits them, right? Don’t we look so cute together?” 

Beel:

Beel cherishes any time he gets to spend with you. No matter what it is he’s excited to be able to share his time with you. 

If you like to cook or bake though, he will absolutely be more than eager to offer his help or keep you company in the kitchen. 

If you accept his invites to the gym, whether you do your own workout routine or film him so he can see his own form later, He’s glad to know you're willing to spend that time with him even though he can’t turn his full focus on you. 

Also, while it’s not really spending time with him, if you come to his practices and games he will be so happy. He’s like an excited puppy and he’ll always thank you for supporting him after he’s done. 

Will 100% give you piggy back rides whenever you want. Sometimes he will insist on it, especially if you seem tired or you're somewhere crowded enough that others keep bumping into you. 

He does enjoy cuddling up with you, especially when you end up using him as a pillow or clinging to him- he got used to that stuff with Belphie and he’s glad that you feel comfortable enough to be that close to him. 

A demon of few words, but he does have little actions that show how much he adores you. The most common one when you’re relaxing together is when he lifts your hand in his own, sometimes laying his palm against yours, sometimes playing with your fingers, sometimes simply interlacing your fingers and giving a soft squeeze. 

Sometimes though, he’ll bust out an “I love you,”- usually the most random times, if you’re sitting with him while he raids the fridge, walking to classes, studying together, sometimes he just has to say it. 

Belphie:

Napping together is his favorite, hands down. He’ll take any chance he can get to snuggle and nap with you. 

He’s not one for high energy activities for obvious reasons, but he’ll never turn down a movie night or binge watching shows with you. 

Love it if you read to him. He finds your voice soothing and relaxing, so being able to close his eyes just listen to you is nice. 

Laying together in the planetarium is something he’d never even dream of turning down. 

He’s naturally very touchy. Leaning against you, wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, he just likes to be as close as possible to you. 

 When it comes to verbal affection, it tends to come in the form of teasing comments. Though, when he’s just waking up expect sleepy whispers of affection. 

Around others he’s even more clingy than usual. Hanging around your shoulders, holding on to the fabric of your shirt, sometimes his tail will make an appearance and curl around your middle. 

Similar to Beel, he has little unconscious actions of affection. Tracing patterns along your arm/leg when you’re cuddling, nuzzling his head into your hand if you run your fingers through his hair, most often though is when his tail curls around you or drapes over you.

Barbatos:

Another busy demon, but he always makes sure he has extra time to spend with you. 

Outings to markets and joining him on shopping trips is pretty common, and it usually includes a meal at a cafe or nice restaurant. 

He will gladly let you keep him company while he’s baking or cooking- he’ll even teach you some recipes if you show interest. 

While not outwardly affectionate by nature, especially in public, he will keep a hand on your shoulder in crowded areas and he makes it clear that you’re with him. 

If you want to cuddle, he’ll oblige, but he usually won’t initiate it- It’s not that he doesn’t want to or that he doesn’t like it, He just likes it better knowing that’s exactly what you want. 

He does like to hold you when you lay together, both arms and tail around you- he will absolutely bury his face in your hair/ neck. 

You can also expect plenty of gifts-sweets he’s made, little things he sees that he knows you’d like, flowers, etc. 

Even though he’s pretty reserved, his gestures make sure you know he cares about you and is thinking about you. 

Diavolo:

Busy, busy, busy. There’s always something going on that he’s supposed to be doing, but Diavolo always has time for you. 

It doesn’t matter what it is- The fact that he gets time with you is enough for him. 

He does like to treat you to fancy dinners and such, though, in fact, he just likes to treat you in general. 

Diavolo also is very liberal with gifts, though it’s not just small things. Anything he sees that he thinks you’d like, things that remind him of you- anything is fair game. He doesn’t really have to worry about price, and honestly, he’d want to get you the best of what you enjoy anyways. 

Very big on both physical and verbal affection. 

He loves to be touching you in some way, holding hands, an arm around you, you leaning against him- he has absolutely no reservations or hesitations about pulling you into his lap or into his side at any time. 

He will melt if you run your fingers through his hair or lay your head on his shoulder/chest while you’re relaxing. 

He’s absolutely not shy about saying ‘I love you’ or any other sort of affectionate thing, public or otherwise. (He will blush though, especially if you return his words.) 

He doesn’t need to, but in crowded areas he will keep your hand in his or an arm around you.

Solomon:

If you’re willing to sit with him while he does research, that’d be great- if you're willing to help that’s even better. 

He also enjoys taking you to cafes or simply being able to talk a walk with you- the change of pace is nice and your presence is something he can bask in. 

He’s also the teasing type. Snarky comments and bold flirting- He likes to see what it takes to make you blush. He’d also get a kick out of it if you tried to make him blush. It’s not as hard as he thinks, though, some genuine words of affection and he’s blushing like mad. 

He will try to cook for you. Once. 

In public, he’ll let his arm drape over your shoulders, making sure to keep you pretty close to him. He’s got a protective streak to rival the brothers- he’s got plenty of experience with Demons, after all. 

If you show an interest in something, he will be willing to teach you about it. 

Man is a sucker for massages. Will melt into a puddle if you rub his shoulder/back. He also won’t hesitate to return the favor. (He’s surprisingly good at it- Won’t admit it’s because Asmo taught him.) 

Simeon:

His favorite is little tea dates or picnics with you. A nice calm atmosphere and pleasant conversation with you is just what he needs to relax. 

He also likes to tease and flirt, but the second you retaliate he’s a blushing mess. 

Will absolutely take you to plays/musicals/ performances. Being able to share his interests with you is wonderful. 

He will for sure write love letters. It doesn’t even matter if you write any back, it’s easiest to show his affection and how truly deeply he cares for you in writing. 

He’ll be overjoyed if you sit with him when he writes. Sometimes he’ll even bounce ideas off you or ask if something sounds okay. He values your input above all else. 

He’s most shy about touch. He’s honestly not as used to it and it flusters him pretty easily. That’s not to say he doesn’t love it anyways. 

In fact, having you simply tucked to his side leaves him smiling and feeling warm. 

He also likes to be held, especially if you’re sharing a bed. Feeling absolutely loved and cared for in your arms is the best feeling he’s ever had, and he won’t hesitate to tell you that. 

[lov3nerdstuff]

Hi Kay!

I just wanted to take a moment and say how deeply moving (and overall comforting) I find your writing to be! I've gone through almost the entirety of your masterlist twice in the past month alone and have found myself returning more often to the pieces of literature/poems your reference sometimes. (Especially that one poem by Benedict Smith! I've read a few more by him because of you and they're just wonderfully lovely 💛 so I'm eternally thankful to you for including it.)

I may be wrong in assuming, but I believe you may have studied/are currently studying a degree involving literature. I hope this isn't too foreward of me but I was wandering if you have any other works of literature that you'd recommend? (I'd love to read anything you recommend from poems to plays 💛) I'm slightly embaressed to say but the works I've read are quite limited to a highschool level and since I'm currently studying Pharmacy, there are very few people who can recommend me such moving works. :)

I also feel like I should apologise for writing such a large ask, so please accept this apology as well hehe 💕🥺

Sincerely,

Bek 🌻

Hey there Bek 💚💕✨

First of all... I'm incredibly sorry for how long it took me to reply to this ask, I know you sent it weeks ago and I'm honestly just ashamed of myself for only replying now! I've been taking a bit of a Tumblr break again, or rather a break from literally everything, and I guess not having written anything in a while made me feel guilty whenever I opened Tumblr, so... All I can say for myself really is that I'm sorry you had to wait so long! Again, I never ever ignore anyone, I promise! It just sometimes takes a while for me to reply 😅🙈

Now, I'm so happy to hear that you've been enjoying my writing! 🥺🥰 Hearing that it's comforting and inspiring to you is honestly such a relief and indeed does make me happy more than I can say 💚 It's so cool that you're checking up on all the references I make aaahhh 🥺🥺🥺 I love it 😁 You're always more than welcome, love! I don't think I could stop including references to literature, culture, history and the science around it even if I tried 😅☺️

And yeah, I did study classics and newer literature as a minor for my undergrad degree 😄 But tbh I still work with literally a lot even now (I'm in grad school for media and cultural studies) even though it's technically not something I've been properly taught ☺️ I'm just a nerd who likes to learn on her own, and with media and culture you can pretty much delve into almost anything you want 😂😅🤷🏻‍♀️

Now, it's not forward at all to ask me for literature recommendations! 😁😃 I truly love recommending stuff!!! I have a few up my sleeve, even though you've probably heard of a few already, for obvious reasons: A lot of what I truly enjoyed reading was something Tom Hiddleston has worked on in one way or another! It's truly a magnificent guideline for picking new literature... Just look up the literary origins of his films/shows/plays and you will be in for quality literature most of the time! I don't think I've ever mentioned it on here, but me reading High-Rise (JG Ballard) because I heard Tom would be partaking in the film adaptation was actually what sparked my love and passion for literature!!! Yep, it's that good. Now on to the recommendations though 😁(This... got rather long):

Plays

Anything by Harold Pinter really, but for obvious reasons you'll find a lot of additionally fun stuff for Betrayal, which is lovely and truly funny if you're in on the kind of humour btw

Medea by Euripides (a classic, but I love it nonetheless... You can find translations in almost every language) ((and pls stay away from Seneca's Medea, because ugh... Euripides is far better AND the og story, as much as anyone can say that for Greek mythology)

La Bohème by Puccini (I know, this is technically an opera, but if you read the libretto it's honestly just like a play... And if you're up for it, the og story is in prose and written by Henri Murger... It's better than the opera, but oftentimes more difficult to find) ((this one is hilarious and basically explains an entire cultural subgroup in the 19th century)

Faust by Goethe (many people hate it, but I LOVE this one!!! It's also been translated into any and every language, and it's so interesting philosophically!!! It's also referenced SO freaking often literally everywhere, and the operas and ballets based on it are always my fave) ((there's technically Faust I and Faust II, but you're good to go just reading the first one)

Anything by Shakespeare, obviously... Though I do love me my Hamlet like every other literature enthusiast (Yes, I can do that one famous soliloquy in act 3 scene 1 by heart as well...)

Poetry

Again, anything Shakespeare for the win, but I LOVE the sonnets and keep a copy of them with me most of the time (Yes, I own multiple copies of the sonnets...) ((My faves are 116 and 91, but there's always so much truth to be found in there!!!))

A lot of the stuff William Blake wrote is amazing, though you have to pick carefully with him if certain religious motives aren't your thing... I love The Tyger, which is an individual poem, and the collection of works called Tyger, Tyger which does have many good ones and a few ones that are a little more on the mediocre side

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas (I know this one by heart as well... It's beautiful, and there's a version of Hiddleston reading it on YouTube, which gives you even more goosebumps than the poem does anyway)

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (same for this one, also read by the one and only) ((I love to read this when I'm feeling down or powerless))

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot (This is another wow piece with many quotable lines and truths... I love it a lot and keep coming back to it! It's also a great example of how literary modernism tried to condense the complexity and passing of time and history into a single frame that had to be intrinsically poetical in nature... As in, this poem could've been a short story in any other period, but modernists loved to make everything a poem so here you go)

Der Zauberlehrling by Goethe (This one sucks in all English translations I’ve found, poetically speaking, but in German it’s such a fun piece! If you’ve ever seen the Disney ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ with Mickey Mouse or listened to the orchestral piece by Paul Dukas, then this poem proves very useful in truly understanding either! But again, the English translation should only be taken for informational value... The German one is also worded hilariously)

Prose

Short edited by Alan Ziegler (This is a collection of short prose forms that honestly is a must for me... I love this book to pieces and have had it for years now! It’s an international anthology, so you’ll find more and less famous authors from all around the world represented with short stories, prose poems, short essays and just curious and interesting snippets of writing! I draw a lot of inspiration from this book)

High-Rise by JG Ballard (As mentioned above, I owe this book part of my personality... I don’t think I would be the same person without having read it. It’s not necessarily full of wisdom, but if you’re interested in a different kind of portrayal of the human condition, then this is the read you need to take a look at)

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers (This is another piece that changed my perception of literature, even though this is a more ordinary and ‘fun’-value read... It’s one of my favourite books and it’s endlessly entertaining! So if the classics are a bit heavy for you, this one is perfect for casual readers as well! Its value really does lie more in the realisation of how fun literature can be, and the freedom you have as an author... So really, I could recommend everything by Moers, his style is amazing both in the German original and in the English translation. Yes, I’ve read both.)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (This is comedic gold, stylistic gold and generally a bloody perfect book. Also a ‘fun’-value read, but it also does a magnificent job at showing you what you can do with literature, and how well-developed characters are supposed to be written)

The Penguin Book of the Undead (Penguin Classics) edited by Scott G. Bruce (This book is basically an education on fifteen hundred years of supernatural encounters and how culture wrote, used and perceived them. You get introductory texts for different periods and social groups, explaining how and why ghost stories were written and used, followed by passages of the prime source texts (eg. ancient necromancy shown on The Odyssey). Really, this book is just for cultural history nerds)

The Earthquake in Chile by Kleist (This isn’t necessarily one of my faves, but it has helped me understand what studying literature and culture can do for you. In case anyone remembers my insistence in Wicked Game that you gotta know what a pomegranate symbolises... this novella is such an instance where this knowledge would prove useful. Generally, it gives many opportunities to think about privilege and circumstance)

The Symposium by Plato (You’ll probably not want to read the entire collection of speeches tbh... But the concepts introduced mainly here and in some of Plato’s other work are well worth looking into! For example, the ‘double being’ introduces a concept that in modern fiction is called soulmates... Just sayin’)

[deanwasalwaysbi]

Thinking About How This Wasn't Actually a Denial

But was it self preservation?

The year was 2013 and rather than a denial, Jensen said "Don't ruin it for everybody now."

What was the fan 'ruining' for everybody? The Con? or something else? So if I was a tinhatter - and sometimes I am - I might think about other tv shows from the past that were covertly queer and how they handled the question, were TV shows 'out'?

Mainstream shows like Bewitched, you know, shows that are so clearly straight, you can tell because... well. ... they never technically used the word 'gay'. ... witches honor

SPN Film Studies is Back in Session! Join Under the Cut for more on supernatural & the story about how Bewitched! came out of the Broom Closet

Bewitched aired from 1964-72, it's so old the first season was in B&W. The show starred Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha, the strange housewife with a stranger secret. Her husband, Darrin, unwittingly married into the whole witchy family, from the now drag icon Agnes Moorehead's Endora with her open marriage, to the unmarried and batty Aunt Clara (Marion Lorne who played the mother in Hitchcock's heavily gay coded 'Strangers on a Train'), to the extremely coded Uncle Arthur (gay actor Paul Lynde). (We can't know for sure, but it seems at least 4 members of the cast were gay themselves.) The core premise of the show involves Samantha balancing who she really is with repressing that self for the safety and comfort of her family.

Samantha and her husband keep her [ahem] 'queer' nature a secret which gets harder on Samantha when she has to tell her daughter to live the same way, “I know what fun it is to be a part of the magical life ... to have so much at your fingertips. But we’re living in a world that’s just not ready for people like us, and I’m afraid they may never be. So you’re going to have to learn when you can use your witchcraft and when you can’t.”

There are plenty of generic 60s wacky hijinks but there are also whole episodes metaphorically about repression being harmful, episodes where characters asked if another was a 'thespian', episodes where Darrin was queercoded while under a spell, episodes about representation & bad stereotyping in media, and even two episodes where witches discussed whether it was time for witches to come out to the mortals, (whether mortals could accept that they were just nice normal people trying to live their lives like everybody else - or not - and would just freak out and kill them again).

When it came time to recast Dick York's Darrin with a new 2nd lead, Elizabeth and her husband, William Asher, knowingly cast the gay Dick Sergeant. (Although he wasn't out publicly at the time.) Then, when Sergeant came out in '91, Montgomery supported him and the two served together as the grand marshals of the Hollywood pride parade.

Dick Sargent expressed in the 90s what he would want in a Bewitched reunion episode: for Darrin to meet another like couple, a witch and a mortal who are married, and another, and another, and end up forming a whole community and support group, finding out that it was never so uncommon after all, that it was actually "about 10% of the population." The two would march in the first mortals and witches pride parade, saying they should have come out years ago.

In '94, Montgomery had this to say about the queer themes of the show, “Don't think that didn't enter our minds at the time. We talked about it on the set, that this was about people not being allowed to be what they really are. If you think about it, Bewitched is about repression in general and all the frustration and trouble it can cause. It was a neat message to get across to people at that time in a subtle way.” (x)

Interviewer: Are you concerned that your involvement in the gay-pride parade will lead people to believe you're a lesbian?

"[Laughing] I'm really not worried about that. There are bigger things to worry about. Like the presidential election and finding a cure for AIDS. I did the parade in support of Dick. I mean, in the end, didn't we all?" (x) (Montgomery was also one of the first celebrity allies to fight for LGBTQ rights and support HIV/AIDS-related fundraisers.)

So did they talk about it at the time? No. You can bet they didn't speak about it publicly. What would have happened if a fan, publicly, had asked Elizabeth, William, or Dick about the show's queer allegory content? This was a time when being gay was a literal felony. They would have had to have lied or risked losing the show, their careers, and possibly subjecting themselves to violence.

Now. back to Jensen and the Schrodinger's long con:

This was in 2013 - The same year that the Supreme Court of the United States struck down a federal ban on gay marriage. You certainly couldn't call homosexuality illegal in the US at that time. It's the same year that Dabb and Sgriccia spoke about the Aaron moment on the DVD and whether there's 'this potential for love in all places' for Dean. Of course Jensen said this about the very same scene: "But it was - you know - it was comedy. It was a comedic moment in the show and fortunately Dean gets a lot of the comedic moments in the show and it was just, you know, Ben was poking fun at the fact that - you know, how can we make this very kind of manly, heterosexual guy uncomfortable - uh -you know, or  or have him back on his heels and throw him off his game a little bit.”

I'm reminded of 2012 when Ben Edlund stepped in about a Destiel question at comic con, pretending it was some freaky thing that fans had made up even though he'd already written and directed TMWWBK, which had already aired.

Jensen: “What’s Destiel?” Ben Edlund: That’s some weird shit. Jensen: Is this something that you created, Ben? Ben: You don’t want any part of that.

Or the next year for season 9 when Jensen said “I think the whole Cas and Dean thing has gotten out of hand”  “I don’t think there’s anything secret to their relationship even though a lot of people wish there was” EVEN THOUGH- that season we got the nightstands acknowledgement and Misha (or both of them?) was told to “play him like a jilted lover”

Or Jensen's knowing bromance smile in 2015

I think recent events (cough spn gate) have made clear that the network and many viewers were still uncomfortable with CAS being gay in 2020, deleting even familial mentions of Cas from the finale episodes once he was revealed to be not only gay but also in love with Dean. (x) (x) (x) Can you imagine then what Warner Brothers would have said to an acknowledge bisexual Dean Winchester in 2013? Granted, there was no Trump election, but legitimate, could that have been the end of the show? Or the Russian and Conservative US viewership? Is it possible that Jensen would have feared so?

Is it possible that Jensen had a more personal reason for a knee jerk defensive response?

So was Jensen covering in 2013? Well. This happened 5 years later in 2018:

That hostile "? No." came even though Misha confirmed that he and Jensen had discussed Destiel by that point. Granted, discussing Destiel as a concept and accepting Dean being inherently bisexual are two very different things - Cas is GN after all - still, less than encouraging.

I may never get over the jumps back and forth that Jensen did. At this point I think there's no denying that a lot of SPN's queer content was on purpose, even as writers and actors were telling fans and network execs otherwise. Yet when each person involved was brought in? that question haunts me at night. I have gone off before about the timeline in my pursuit of whether Jensen was Ben Hur'd (x) and, if so, for how long. I'm sure many in this fandom have so much to add.

In the meantime we'll just have to cherish this moment from 2019:

Interviewer: 'So, tell us just a little bit about what you’re most excited to tackle with your character this final season.’ Jensen: “Cas. Just like a full football form tackle.”

Bewitched references in SPN:

2.05 - Dean: Well, it looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose, he's gotta use verbal commands.

2.20 - Dean says Barbara Eden was hotter than Elizabeth Montgomery - sigh - Dean.

7.05 - Dean thinks a husband has no idea his wife is a witch, and refers to him as Darrin. Dean also indicates he likes the first Darrin better. - (I guess I can't make a comment about how much TV Dean watched as a kid if I get all of his references and also haven't saved the world.)

14.03 - Jules refers to the witch as 'Brunhilde' - this is a minor character in bewitched but more so from mythology and likely referred to the cartoon witch from WB cartoons - the stereotypical witch that faced bugs bunny with the green skin and straw hair.

let me know if you have any to add. Stay Witchy ✌