#my only acceptions are ND people because i feel being ND gets left out in zodiac stuff

[planefood]

Autism and Isolation, discussing my experience and my characters

I think i've said here before that my robot characters represent my experience growing up disabled where I live. My characters being robots specifically were made to represent feelings of being made to feel less human in some way due to it. While all my characters in that story are on the spectrum and represent different parts of my experience, I used Mikey as the cover of this post because he represents a certain part of myself that makes me incredibly attached to him (there's a reason I say I like writing him so much, despite him not being the main protagonist). He's the part of me that understands I need help with things but is too afraid to ask leaving me in horrible positions, he's the part of me who screams in public when I feel trapped, he's the part of me that could probably never live by myself, he's the part of me who's scared and vulnerable. Among other things. But also he's the part of me who, like many of my peers, feels isolated in everyday spaces and autistic spaces alike due to peoples perceptions of what autism "should" be, these same people welcome fidget toys and stimming with open arms turn around and think its okay to call me the r slur or infantalise me or make fun of until I cry. But I only cry because I thought i'd be welcomed in those spaces with my autistic peers and I cry because I told my younger self it would get better and people would be nicer to us once we were an adult with like minded people. These same people who, despite being open and proud about supporting neurodiversity still think its okay to use the word autistic as an insult against me. I feel like while people appear so much more accepting of disabled people with these small gestures than I was when I was growing up, I still feel like an outsider in these spaces but this time it feels like I've hit a wall. Like a, "who will support me if the people who are meant to don't?" it leads to a lot of insecurity and self loathing, it makes me feel like I'm not autistic in the "right way" and there's just something wrong with me as a person. I wrote these into Mikey, which makes him seem like he has a 'thin skin' to people like Tandy. Mikey, in my story, is often left behind or teased by other characters in my story even the ones who are also on the spectrum. They also struggle with their own battles with facing ableism and self hatred due to it but don't realise the first step to tackling that is unpacking how they treat others around them. You'll never be able to love your true authentic autistic self if you throw ableist rhetoric at people around you. That includes saying shit like "I'm autistic and I don't act like that guy does whats their excuse" or "I'm not making fun of them because they're autistic they just act weird" I'm low support needs autistic, I've seen how people treat high support needs autistic people and its even more sickening, other low support needs autistic people like to pretend they don't exist or throw them under the bus to make themselves more appealing to ableists: "See autistic people don't actually act like that, support me because I can mask" or even trying to say autism isn't a disability. My characters and writing while being a representation of myself being disabled is also a scathing criticism of the cruelty I see in the world at large, the cruelty I see in other people in ND and disabled communities and the cruelty I see within myself. I get scared about my future with how people treat me, but when I have characters I can write these struggles into it makes it a little easier. I know there's people who love me for who I am and there's people out there who love you guys for who you are too.

[madfantasy]

New 3 things that happened:

*I got my new ID, my id expired and to renew it I had to get photographed, and since I just opened my bank account a year ago it depends on it so already I was giving up on the idea to keep the account but by miracle a photographer agreed to picture us at home, and it turned to us cuz I wanted all my sibs to have theirs taken with me too and because I had to argue first time to get my ID forever, so i didn't have the energy to keep doing it for the rest of my sibs so now it was the chance. The day of the photographer coming I was shaking with fear and I thought I would never leave the bathroom gotten ill. I fear seeing people more than dyin so I don't know how I held it together, I literally don't remember how it went or how I did, but I recall my sibs looking the same as I felt but it was finally done. parents too taken their shoots and because one needed their passport renewed to renew their id, them alone costing 1k$ and the appointment was set 6 months ahead, we R now close to it anyway, and the thought of how we have to pay to exist some more costly made me think of my worthlessness and helplessness even more, making me ashamed of still living.

The thing that blinded me, me the first to be tested on lo

*my eye is better, I still see a dark spot looking in a certain direction, getting an eye mask surprisingly helped keeping my eyes less dry cuz they be the most when I wake up and I had the driest time before it got infected and swelled, and already I'm used to the spot and can ignore it..

*I'm still drawing, literally it's making me live love and laugh, I don't care about improving or drawing my best constantly, ai can get poisoned for all I care as it continues to dehumanise the whole point of art-- keeping humanity alive ( btw use glazing ❤️🖤)

I realised that I don't have any physical collection of my art & since I can't look at the screens forever just to browse, nd printing all my stuff isn't feasible, then I came across those mini albums Nd I got the idea to just print one sheet = 9 pics! They look good too for trashy quality, I love it 8' and yes, purple and silver is the 10% obsession to my 90% red and black pallets, thanks to remembering Freeza c'x

But as usual posting my drawings never cease to eat me alive with anxiety, but I think I'm slowly becoming indifferent to it, even if the thought of that no one actually sees my art but me, which is the main case cuz I am living in isolation and being drawing in secret till few recent years because of my conservative surroundings, I feel much calmer when I'm not seen and maybe it's self destructive in a way cuz to stay posting I need to be commissioned cuz net bill, but it became irrelevant cuz I accepted that i can't have the mental capacity to be a social media person or chase anything that I already knew I can't maintain, I had an art block for a year I almost believed that was it for my art drive and me cuz it my sanity— cuz burning out so bad. If my post has a description it was in my drafts for months cuz I plan for every piece I share, but if can't form words I allow myself to let it be captionless, I draw faster than I form words and that's why art is important to me on a personal level, it's my first way of express even if its indirect, the only bit of human Mani left to live in me to put through lines and paint splodges. Even if no one sees it, and to be honest with myself, have very weak chances of being seen on a level that benefits me financially, I'm on the other side of the world, never seen the sky beyond my schooling days, nonverbal irl and know that I can get taken advantage of easily in social manner because it either I don't get the social cues or can't say no..

I'm grateful that at least I got the chance to experience being in a loving nurturing fandom like Sev's that made me experience genuine human goodness and care I never thought possible, made me have some self worth, personality beyond a made for marriage caretaker, and allowed me to get art tools and clothing that I was never allowed or could afford, and many first time small life pleasures like perfumes, food and toys, even if I only recognise 5 or 10 of you dears now, by DP liking my posts- (I suck at remembering names sorry)

I'm also grateful to have a room after endless years of couch and house movings, I have a safe space to still be able to draw and be cool under an AC in this 50° weather..

I think realistically that's the best it can get having spent all my life trying to get anywhere but isolated, and nothing working. At least I'm indifferent and fine of being the caretaker of my disabled guardians and siblings, I need them as much as they need me, even if it caused me the same cycle of mental anguish and earth leavings hehe

Wish U all the ease and peace and yummy peas 🫶🏽

4 am, sleep deprived

[thevirgodoll]

I want to stop allowing people who treat ne with disrespect or make me feel low mentally in my life both online and offline sometimes I'm aware that they are coming only when they need something or they are going to use me but I can't stay no I can't reject them i accept them even after what they did to me

A girl used to bully me but I helped her when she was feeling down and had fight with her friend then when I went to study where she used to go she continued to bully me - trying to embarrass, body shame me.

I met a girl online too I thought I was friends with her I explained how others attacked me for not liking 1 song of my fav which was also their fav she said how she didn't understand but when others wwre attacking me she took their side She twisted my words to make me sound the villain or fake fan she came back when she had no friends left nd I was aware od that but still accepted her. When I confronted her for the twisting words thing she was like leave it as if she was avoiding to apologize also some other girl told me that maybe communicating would help but it communicating helps if we are talking to honest and real people not with liars nd fake people .

I unblocked her and she would often defend and be toxic sometimes I would block bur then unblock her . She would say she wouldn't repeat it but continued to do so.

Last time she also disrespected me . She was fake and I allowed her again in my life after knowing waht she did. She didn't even apologize for her past behavior

Why do I allow such people knowing their reality waht is wrong with me

You allow people to be straight up garbage towards you because you don’t want to be rejected or left alone. Sometimes we think it’s better to have friends that aren’t really your friends than to start over and also face yourself in the mean time.

You’ve gotten complacent and enabled people being mean to you because you desire acceptance that badly. I used to be like you, and it spread me so thin like literally ran me dry. My heart was way too big and I felt obligated to accept everyone back in my life on the potential that they’d finally be a better friend to me, a better person.

NO. They will not change. They’ve shown you time and time again they aren’t your friend. This is why I don’t agree that you HAVE to forgive absolutely everyone and have permeable boundaries to be the “bigger person”. No, sometimes people are just shitty and we should leave them where we found them at. The only way to get better at this is to truly ask yourself: what are they giving me that I’m currently not giving myself? What is their benefit to my life?

And often, you’ll realize there aren’t any benefits besides the ones you made up in cognitive dissonance to keep yourself comfortable. You need to completely rework your standards for having a friend… envision that new friend and pray for that new friend. She’s out there somewhere.

You deserve way better. And the best you have right now is yourself. Take care of her.

[echofromtheabyss]

Medium talk is worse than small talk and probably what we're all most afraid of

We all know Small Talk:

hi, how are you, nice weather, how about them (insert sports team here).

Small talk follows algorithms and a kind of ritual pattern. It's the kind of appropriate conversation level for interacting with retail workers in public, and total strangers.

We also all know Big Talk. (I'm only calling it that as the logical inverse implied by Small Talk.) Which is basically where a high degree of familiarity is assumed. A common ND fuckup is conversing in conversational modes that, to many of the general population, are reserved for high familiarity. Either in terms of talking at length about a topic (which I feel is something that was actually more socially acceptable in the past, but has become broadly unacceptable over time; this was NOT really part of a diagnostic category in the 70s) or in terms of overfamiliarity/not being at the right level of social distance from the person for the thing you're talking about.

Most people rely on lots of context cues that inform how they will hear what the other person is saying, and those context cues may not be there for a near-stranger. All they're left with is the most uncharitable possible assumption about your intentions.

So with this in mind, this leaves me with the WORST conversation category, that nobody acknowledges, because we're stuck on Small Talk and Big Talk:

Medium Talk.

You actually need something in common with the other person or something you relate to, to really successfully do Medium Talk. Small talk can be done with total strangers you're never going to see again, and Big Talk can cut past a lot of stuff; I don't need every social belongingness or ideological thing or hobby in common with my family members, or other people in a high-trust relationship with me, to have a meaningful conversation with them.

Medium Talk is actually where a lot of the tripwires and landmines are.

People are making decisions to escalate or de-escalate here, and listening for loyalty indicators. You run the risk of keeping things superficial while missing an actual connectedness bid, or of being overly familiar - or getting too comfortable and offending/scaring the other person before they have any context for processing what you're saying to them.

Medium Talk is when you're moving from the Social Niceties, along the continuum toward Big Talk. You're dipping your toe in the water, moving toward the deep end.

Average to high social skills people will often throw out feelers about escalating the conversation. In the 90s, LGBT people would sometimes drop hints about some or other thing that only other LGBT people would know about, based upon some kind of context cue. There is ultimately some of this same dynamic going on with some forms of nerdy gatekeeping ("name one star war") albeit in a clumsy way.

But people do it all the time.

I think there is a tendency for some people to assume talk is 100% verbal while habitually ignoring the visual and relational context cues that are processed as communication. It's especially hard for people who *can't* process that information, but I think that there are lots of reasons some people end up just not learning to do it.

People often escalate small talk based upon presence of some kind of marker such as a nerdy enamel pin, or a sports jersey. This is what wearing tons of geek swag is actually all about. 70s-80s social skills guides and advice for single people, often advised having/carrying/wearing some kind of "conversation starter."

Once I learned about 70s/80s/90s gay hanky code, I realized that there was a lot of this going on in all kinds of ways and that people scan other people visually for various kinds of context cues for the escalation of small talk.

A big problem is getting too "real" too fast, and people in the Medium Talk Zone will commonly use celebrities, low-stakes fandom stuff, and the like as socially acceptable proxies for discussing their viewpoints while saving face. If you are still in a low trust space, then the problem with just blurting stuff out to another person is that they don't know you well enough to have any context for what you are saying.

Most people are processing a ton of context cues while you are speaking, besides the words you are saying. When still in a low trust zone, you are likely to be taken in bad faith. You saying the same thing that their friend said, is not being heard by their brains as actually the same thing.

Nor is your presentation of the project being heard by the boss as being the same presentation that is being given by the shinier co-worker who steals it from you.

Most people don't just process the information, they process *who is saying it* as a *necessary part* of that information.

And this is where Medium Talk is so dicey.

Small Talk? No problem. Most of us can do it on a good day and most of us do it without realizing how much we do it.

[gleesongtournament]

Glee Song Tournament Update #1

I’m hoping to start the tournament on Sunday the 16th, but I will post a more concrete confirmation of the schedule once I get it 100% sorted

For now I wanted to talk about the songs that are included and excluded, and how I’ve set this up

What didn’t I included? Well the only two concrete answers were anything that was just a dance performance with the original song in the background (Single Ladies, Bubble Toes, etc), and any song that was album only with no filmed scene to go with it (Dancing On My Own, I Was Here, etc)

Some musical moments I left out might seem hypocritical. I left out songs by rival glee clubs that basically only served to show that yes, there is a third club competing, here’s ten seconds of their song (Broken Wings, Starlight Express, etc) but I included ten second snippets of songs from main characters (Respect, Mr. Cellophane, etc)

I also didn’t included (most) songs whose only purpose was to be bad or get cut off which unfortunately cuts out half the times Tina got to sing. Some exceptions are Crush (because we at least got a full studio version) and Pink Houses (which we heard enough of in the episode). But things like The Climb or Revolution will not be found here

Lastly, songs in deleted scenes. These were cut or kept in based on what I thought was more popular. I can understand someone being miffed if Santa Baby or I Want You Back wasn't included, but I doubt anyone would care as much about Oklahoma or Mr. Monotony (if you stan the latter two songs, I'm sorry). So I only kept in the ones I thought were more well known/liked

If you're upset about one of the above songs not being included, or think I'm not being fair, you should know that there will be 340 match ups consisting of 681 songs in round one alone. I only trimmed the tiniest amount of fat, and I promise there are still plenty of songs for you to vote on. But hopefully everyone can understand where I'm coming from and just accept what got cut x

Now, with hundreds and hundreds of songs in the mix, I wanted to do something a little more interesting than just throwing a million random match ups your way with no rhyme or reason. Bc 1) It could get boring and repetitive and 2) It could be harder to follow if it weren't split up in some cohesive way. That's where the categories come in

What are the categories? Generally speaking, they're the ways I've broken down the polls into themed sections. Hopefully this will make everything easier to follow, plus who doesn't love some good theming?? Specifically, the categories are...

Holiday Songs. All the Christmas songs + the one Hanukkah song. If you hate Christmas music, feel free to skip this round

Original Songs. Basically just any songs that aren't covers, whether it's the humorous or serious ones

Mash Ups. All the songs that are two songs combined

Same Songs. The songs that were covered multiple times on the show, pitted against one another. The only round that isn't matched up randomly

Tributes. Songs by artists/from musicals that the show frequently paid homage to (RHPS, WSS, Grease, Beatles, Britney, Fleetwood Mac, the Jackson fam, Madonna, Whitney, Stevie Wonder)(also the songs are from all eps, not just the one(s) that served as the actual tribute ep)

Musicals. Songs from musicals not listed in the last bullet point

Rivals. Songs performed by opposing glee clubs (The Warblers, Vocal Adrenaline, etc)

Guest Stars. Songs performed by, or heavily featuring, any of Glee's numerous celebrity cast members

New Directions. Songs performed by the main club. (Not necessarily a group number. Could be sung by half the club, or even two or three people, but as long as the rest of the club is there vibing, it counts)

Solos. Songs sung by one main or recurring character

Duets. Songs sung by two main or recurring characters

Misc. Everything else! Mostly trios, quartets, or group numbers that go beyond just ND

Of course there are plenty of songs that could fit into multiple categories. For example, "Somewhere" could fall under Tribute, Guest Star, and Duet, but will only be included in one of those. So if you think I left something out of a certain category, don't worry, you'll see it pop up in a different one later!

So I think that's all the basics so far. If you have any questions you can send them here or on my main @angelhummel

[hexfane]

oh shit i forgot tumblr is the PLACE to BE for oversharing. if you see this but dont care no you dont

absolutely insane rabid chomping at the bit madness in part because *hypo*manic episode and in part because genuine life changes nd trying to unlearn bad habits :~[

i am so fucking sick of holding myself back but i am such a dumb kicked puppy for no reason

i eternally am waiting for the shoe to drop. it always feels like im one second away from getting my heart ripped out of my chest and every day i feel so much shame when i Literally Didnt Do Anything. believe me if i had anything to actually gaf about i wouldn't be willingly expressing shit. but im always like Theyre Going To Get Me. who queen!! or Theyre Going To Find Out. find out what queen!!

why am i ashamed of being happy. why am i ashamed of being myself and doing things i enjoy.

why do i have fucking catholic guilt when i wasnt even raised religious lmao

and especially with big ol neon letters why am i ashamed of the fact i want to be known and cared about? ive internalized the fact im undeserving of care and that im doomed to never have it i dont even start and any attempts to even find piece in the segments of reality i set aside for myself makes me feel like im fucking evil. i get so mad at myself for expressing genuine emotion like actually fucking angry like im doing something wrong and people are going to hate me.

i also have a nebulous counter in my head that decides when i have been Too Free and that Now Everyone Will Hate You. Why Did You Do That? You Have Fucked Up. and i only know when i reach that point after ive done it, and it can be triggered by something as simple as liking a post or literally done absolutely nothing

just kidding i know why! it is the neurodivergence. i feel like the way my brain works makes me exist in a manner inherently incongruent from other people and that i am like a fucking creep for even trying to relate to other people, like i am a subhuman for the way i think and feel and live

i left my job recently bc of dumb petty teenage drama that made me have a massive meltdown at my Grown Ass Age and i think that also really fucked my shit up even further because im like borderline agoraphobic about talking to other people now? or being in situations socially that arent fully normalized to me? like im pushing through it and doing New Things TM but it is pretty taxing mentally and i think im on the butt end of that where now im just kinda empty feeling

also if you read this and are psychoanalyzing me yes i already know i suffer from paranoia/delusion issues and thats a big part of my shit ik. i dont do anything to exacerbate any kind of psychosis because for as much as i meme about it i am a pretty fucking conservative smoker and drinker. i eat my wheaties and shit, body has no reason to make me so crazy, and yet.

just know if i ever talk to you or interact with you in any way i have already accepted the fact that me doing that will make you think less of me just by default and fussed over it internally already before making the decision.

did you enjoy the spectacle, if u got down here? dw i dont mean that in a mean accusatory way i like reading these too, i'm nosey. thanks for listening

[average-tennis-ball-enthusiast]

recent happenings

tw: rant

so i just kinda realized something huge about what's been happening in my life. i was in a group at my school with 7 or 8 people, most of whom in the same grade as me. and throughout the latter part of 2021 through basically all of 2022, i was friends with them, and would do things with them. after i built up my trust with them, i would start hanging out with them outside school, and we all had a good time. now here's the thing: most of them are neurotypical. which meant, as an asexual nd cisgender guy, i never really got some of what they would do. but i would do my best to listen and to understand. everything was all good and dandy until around mid-to-late october. now granted, i was in a bit of a downward mental health spiral then, considering a handful of hard things happening then, but i would reach out to them and offer to take them places, and they would accept, right? i took a group of myself and 3 others to mcdonald's, and paid for everyone (which was about $23), and i didn't get much in return. i let it go because it was my treat. i took one of them to wendy's to get food because he was hungry before band practice, didn't get ANYTHING back. i also took him to walmart, stopping at dutch bros along the way, my treat. only paid for my drink because thankfully dutch bros is awesome and makes drinks for both people if only one can pay, and only makes them pay for the one drink. but at the same time, i was using my own car, my own gas, and my own money to do these things. i wanted to wait to tell the entire group that i was beginning to expect some form of compensation in return, but i felt like that time never came. i mentioned it to the same dude i took to walmart and wendy's and mcdonald's, and i'm like 98% sure that he told the rest of the group WITHOUT letting me know, and there it began. people would start picking at me, mostly those associated with the same guy i told, for a variety of things. first i'm venting without warning into the group chat (which is understandable, it can't always be dealt with), but meanwhile someone else is doing SCOT-FREE. then i'm told i can't make gay jokes around them (even though previously they appeared fine with it, and joked along with me). THEN i'm told i'm just being disrespectful, because i felt like i've just had to walk on eggshells around them because i didnt want to set them off again. then one of them had the absolute AUDACITY TO SAY THAT I DONT CARE. AFTER I ASKED THEM FOR SUPPORT, BECAUSE I WAS SCARED OF LOSING THE OTHERS' TRUST. at that point, i lost my trust in 2 of those folks, and things appeared to carry on as normal with everything else. then, new years eve, the final straw for me. about 9pm that time, it was time for the bereal, where everyone would show what they were doing. 2 of them posted AT THE EXACT SAME HOUSE OF ONE OF MY OTHER FRIENDS, AND THEY WERE HANGING OUT WITH SEVERAL OTHERS IN THE GROUP, AND DID NOT TELL ME ANYTHING. i had always had a feeling since they first started picking on me that they were conspiring against me, someway somehow. that the final fucking straw. i just up and decided to leave the group a couple days later. i no longer trusted them. i had been complacent with their shitty behavior for far too long. there was nothing left for me to salvage out of it. now it's been a week since i left the group chat, and nobody has said anything. from the glimpses of them sitting together at lunch, they seem to be carrying on just fine without me. and frankly, i couldn't give a shit anymore. part of me still wants to remain optimistic that someone would own up and apologize or at least say something, but honestly i'm losing hope of that too. i pieced it all together, and i concluded that i have been manipulated, used, and made to believe i'm a bad friend. i've wanted to just lash out at them in anger for everything, but i won't, despite me wanting to so fucking bad. i want retribution for what i've had to go through. and now i'm in the process of trying to find another group, and i really don't want to trust people anymore. it's just too tiring.

[reserwrekt]

Sorry if you’re a Cap and offended when I say this, but I haven’t known a single one that hasn’t:

Inflated something about who they are to impress other people

Lived some sort of double life in the form of catfishing, or literally having another relationship or family as a secret or making many profiles

Hate watched people or basically- they obsess over things and people they hate

[heartoftheserpent]

Dumbledore Bros anon here - Amazing post and I agree with everything you said!! The description of what caused the three way duel is so vague in the books and Aberforth calling Albus and/or Gellert a slur makes so much sense. The whole "Albus learn't lies and secrets at our mothers knee" has me wondering if Ariana was the product of an affair?? She doesn't seem to look much like the boys in the book description. Really interested in your Kendra/Percival thoughts as well... :)

I also do want to add (because I forgot to) that bit where Aberforth mentions that he saw everything that happened in that house - everything. It does genuinely feel to me like he is trying to shame Albus for what he and Gellert were to each other. Like, dude, if my sister dated a scumbag I wouldn't bring up thirty years later that she did in fact have sex with him whenever I was mad. But of course, it's very easy to bring out that shame and self-loathing in Albus - and of course, that's weaponized often against queer people in general. "Don't forget, I know what you are, I know what you did."

Even if male homosexuality is treated differently in the wizarding world than the Muggle world at the time, Mould-on-the-Wold and Godric's Hollow were both mixed villages, with Muggles living there side by side. There's cultural bleedover for sure.

After some thoughts on the subject, here's where I'm landing on "secrets and lies" stuff: I think Aberforth was very affected by the sudden shift in the family paradigm when they moved. I think it was really really hard for him to adjust to the transition from "mildly eccentric family living happily together" to "father in prison, sister unstable," and I think he resented that Kendra and Albus were able to make that switch with what to Aberforth looked like relative ease. They were able to adapt to this new dynamic, both being clever, being good actors, and frankly they both had so much responsibility (as the Only Parent Left and the Oldest Child) that they didn't have a choice. Aberforth, whose mind doesn't quite work the same way (see @trothplighted for some truly excellent Dumbledore family ND headcanons), must have felt like The Only Sane Man for having trouble accepting this new way of life.

FULL DISCLOSURE, my Kendra and Percival headcanons are not based on ANYTHING, these are Full Blorbos based on the fact that I've loved them without any canon content for 15 years so I had to make my own (with, again, significant aid from Troth, with whom I share most or all of my headcanons, because being friends in fandom for a long time will do that to you). Frankly I don't even know where these headcanons came from, but.

Percival in my hc had a difficult relationship with his family and his Expected Place, and wound up running away to the New World. Kendra similarly had ditched her family when they tried to pressure her into marriage, and disguised herself as a boy. The two of them met while they were riding the rails, both hopping trains around the Canadian Pacific Railway in the early 1880s. The romanticization of that lifestyle for young people is usually really overblown, since it was incredibly dangerous and usually short-lived. However, I think for two young wizards it might have been a lot different.

They eventually met and fell in love, Kendra comes clean about being a girl, Percy doesn't care, they wind up bumming around the country getting into trouble and laughing it off for a few years. Percy gets an owl that his father has died and left him some property back in England, which he ignores - until he and Kendra accidentally get into too much trouble, and suddenly, retiring to a quiet life in England to hide doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

I see their first few years in England as the both of them working very hard to Play Their Roles - Percy trying to figure out how to be a Dad and a British Man when it's everything he ran away from, Kendra trying to figure out on the fly how to be a Wife and a Mom and a British Witch, both of them startled that they're pulling it off, even more startled that they really like their quiet lives as parents.

All of that is COMPLETE fabrication because I Like It. Here's the bit where I think I have more of a leg to stand on: I think the weird "The Dumbledores are an important family" thing is Gellert ascribing importance to himself, they're important to HIM. They're an old magical family, but they're not powerful or wealthy or influential.

Case in point, Percival.

Because if three boys (in my hc they're 15-17) are able to burst into your garden and hurt your daughter so badly she's never the same again, if you're so afraid of your daughter being taken away from you that you have no other recourse, you're NOT a powerful, influential family. Someone like the Blacks or the Malfoys could have simply put Ariana on their private estate somewhere, or bribed Ministry officials to have her "overlooked," or never have been vulnerable at all in the first place.

My further headcanon is that the reason he killed the boys rather than modify their memories is that they were attempting to blackmail the Dumbledores, to out them as freaks and weirdoes to the rest of the town or even the authorities, and he was afraid they'd left letters or written proof that would jog their memories (he's not that gifted at Memory charms). Percy knew he'd go to Azkaban for it, isn't a violent man, but saw it as protecting his daughter from being locked up her whole life. And. Frankly. Seeing them again, knowing what they did to Ariana, I don't think it was that hard for him to summon the killing curse.

(and for maximum pain, I hc that he didn't have any bad memories with Kendra, so he forgot her completely in Azkaban when the Dementors took all his happy memories. :) )

[captnjacksparrow]

I wish people would stop caring about the canon pairings and marriages in Naruto/Boruto because they should have absolutely no relevance for SNS shippers in terms of validating said ship. Those who say we are delusional because “Well, Naruto married Hinata so she is THE one he loves!” (I'll focus more on Naruto's marriage here... Is Sasuke's even a marriage?) simply don’t get that it just doesn't really matter who Naruto and Sasuke married because that in no way diminishes their feelings for each other. The main plot of the series revolves around the bond between Naruto and Sasuke. It is their story. They are each other's most important people and this was established back in Land of Waves arc even before the dramatic events that take place on the bridge - the whole point of that very first arc was making this a fact right from the beginning, because the story has always been and was always supposed to be about the two of them and the profound love and understanding that grows between them ever since they exchanged glances, smiles and pouts as lonely little broken kids. No reason to list all proof of their feelings and bond here, it has been done extensively, and if somebody watched the show/read the manga and missed it, they are missing half a brain. That these boys love each other more than anyone else is absolutely obvious.

So what about the canon pairings? Kishimoto stated time and time again that his focus was never romance, and that is not because he can't write romance as we know it (he clearly did), but it’s a matter of concept: what HE considers romance is the attraction that unites people with the purpose of marriage (confessing your romantic love for japanese people is the same as saying you want to be in a relationship, because feelings shouldn’t be voiced without an intention), and that, to him, is NOT the greatest expression of love, nor does it represent the most special bond two people can share.

It is understandable that westerners put so much weight into marriage because we consider it the epitome of love. Well, the truth is marriage in Japanese culture is mainly the only socially admissible means to have children and has very little to do with romantic love. In fact, in Japanese literature, it is much more common for unmarried couples to love each other than married ones. Obviously, there is no absolute truth when it comes to feelings and human relationships, what I'm doing here is generalising social norms and expectations (not exposing my opinion on them - that would turn this rant into something else entirely). A large number of Japanese marriages are loveless (and arranged, but no point getting into that either) and what motivates choosing a spouse is their ability to fulfill familial duties, meaning: is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? Is the man willing and capable of putting his occupation above everything else, working extremely hard and for long hours, with total dedication and diligence for his job, to the point of not even seeing his family most of the time, as an honorable man should do as a provider? That's what makes a GOOD married couple: two people following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family (again, please, this is not MY opinion!). What a Japanese man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children.

Do these descriptions ring any bells?

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true. Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it, and trying to discredit the obvious unmatched connection and feelings between two characters because they never got married to each other or married someone else is ludicrous. Yeah, a married couple can love each other deeply and above anyone else, but that is just not what marriage is ABOUT in Japanese culture and definitely not what Kishimoto wanted us to believe was the case here after dedicating 699 chapters to a story about the special bond between two boys that didn’t culminate in marriage. 

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Are more bells being rung?! 

Oh, some bonus info: We also tend to associate sex with romantic love. Well, Japanese married couples with children rarely have sex, if at all. After a woman becomes a mother, she is no longer considered sexually desirable and becomes a mother figure to her husband as well (what happened to Hinata’s big "attributes" in Boruto? Huh). This is especially true when couples sleep in separate rooms and the mother shares a bed with her children. (Hinata co-sleeps with Himawari and we know Naruto sleeps in a separate room. Just saying.)

What's your say?

Is Sasuke's even a marriage?

Geezz!!!! LoLLLLL!!!! This sentence just made me cackle so hard for a good 5 minutes, Anon!!!!!

Hmmm.... So let's get back to your ask.

Well, I don't know how to react to this ask, Anon. Because, I don't know whether you are from Japan or you have a very close Japanese friend who might've told you all these cultural thing about marriage and relationships.

So, what I am going to do is to analyze from the facts you have provided , combine with my own cultural relevance and provide my answer. If there is any Japanese readers who are reading this, you can confirm or dispel this by sending me an ask. But again, I don't want exceptional case like, 'No, my family is different'. I want to know about the general lifestyle of a common citizen and their married life.

Having said that, this ask made me just yell at myself, 'Goshh!!!! Seriously???'

Because whatever you said, It fucking exist in my country too and is still followed by almost 70% of people in my country and I absolutely detest it. That is,

Most of the marriages here are loveless nd arranged - Check

Is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? - Check

People following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family - Check Check

What a man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). - Check Check

Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children. - Awww!!! A million Check.

That's why I was envious of Western people in this aspect, because they have a freedom to choose their own partner without any time constraints and when they do, their marriage can be said to be 'The Epitome of Love'.

My parents marriage is also an arranged one. And whenever they have disagreement and that leads to verbal war, they let out this words, 'I'm here with you because of my 2 daughters otherwise I would've left you long back'. So... Yeah. Here, most of the marriages are child-centered. Again, it's not just my opinion. Majority of the arranged marriage based family revolve around their child.

And I was born, a year after my parents' marriage, and If I hadn't been born, then people will question my parent's fertility factor and start to discriminate them. So, I can boldly claim that, I was not born out of Love or something. I was born because of social obligations.

But it doesn't mean, my parents don't love each other now. How should I say???? It's like a Stockholm Syndrome??!!!! Like when you stay with a person for a long time, you will eventually start to develop some feelings over the course of the time. It took them 15 years to come to a complete understanding of each other. It's the same case with many couples here.

Considering all these, Sasuke never even stayed with Sakura enough to make her understand him, So I wonder what kind of couple are they????? Weird!!!!!

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true.

Awww!!!! Man, Seriously???? I made this claim long back in this post where I said, these women were used as a tool to bring out Next Generation Kids. My claim was based on Analytical Perspective.

And then one of the rabid SS stan reblogged my post and pulled out a hetero card stating, 'They are married and blah blahh...' when in reality, I never discussed about their sexuality in that post. That post was purely based on the number of pages each hetero couples shared with each other against the number of pages Sasuke & Naruto shared together.

Now, you have provided a cultural perspective for those shitty canon pairings.

On one side, I feel the need to smirk, because I am right.

But on the other side, I feel bad like, 'Is this how, this show must go on?? What are you trying to convey from this?'.

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Hmmm.... It's interesting to know this. Anon.

This is where it differs slightly in my country.

Romantic love here is,

No matter what happens, I'll stand with you, You are just not alone. I will leave my fucking clan, parents, relatives if they don't approve you and we will start a new life somewhere.

[[Here, marriages happen mostly between their clan members. If you love a person from another clan, you will be ostracized or tortured or honour killed by your very parents. It just differs from clan to clan. I was subjected to this same problem and that's why I hate my Clan and left my parents. And this is also one of the reason why I love Itachi. Because we share similar Ideals. That is, Not to be obsessed over your clan and think beyond this restriction.

Also, here in Asian Culture if someone is willing to leave their family (when they don’t approve you) and prefer you over everything.... It means.... that's some Love beyond Comprehension. Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his Family (like Sakura and Kakashi) and like to stand with Sasuke... Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his own family and go on a long mission with Sasuke]]

So does it remind you of anything?????

It's the whole SNS dynamics starting from their childhood to VoTE2. That's why I started to ship SNS, because it represents the true love we always wish for.

Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it

This is very true, Anon.

I mean, they don’t even have to take a groundbreaking route. 

They should have given everyone an open ending, just like Kishi left at chapter 699. What is the need of a marriage, if Naruto is going to adopt Kawaki??? If Orochimaru was going to create a Baby Artificially?? If Rock Lee is going to have a child out of nowhere???

But I am happy that SNS bond is the only one that wasn’t diminished in this hot mess called Burrito. So, atleast we should be happy about that.

When someone pulls the marriage card, I just block them immediately because they are not even worth having a good conversation. NH will pull out the Last movie and SS will pull out, ‘Sasuke called Sakura ‘My Wife’.... So, it’s just pointless.

So, to conclude

Considering my Analytical perspective, I already made earlier in other post and your ask which provides some insight about Japanese culture which eerily resembles the culture I belong to, It all makes sense that this whole pairings and trash is just for the sake of bringing out Next Generation series and those boys never loved those girls whole heartedly. And I agree with you on this.

[iwhishtomeetinournextlife]

An anonymous lover (Part 5)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, angst, arguing, not proof read

Word count : 2.2k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - You're here - Part 6 - Part 7

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

--------------------------

It is not possible. It is a mistake. He has dream of that moment so much, he is just imagining things now.

Sirius was in his dorm, laying down, looking at the stars on the canopy of his bed. He has stuck all the enveloppe he had receive decored with stars there, so he could see the sky before falling asleep, this had helped him to sleep better for the past few weeks.

But even the soothing looks of the stars could not help him calm his mind, he simply could not believe the person he was exchanging letters with, for now soon to be two months, was a slytherin. He knows her house shouldn’t be important, that no matter what she had helped him in so many ways, but he had developped such a hated for this house, he could simply not accept it.

He didn’t dare to compare the handwriting, fearing it would be indeed true, but after a few minutes he finally decided to look, he had to be sure, he couldn’t stay in the mystery like that for much longer.

He took the notes Y/N gave to him and the latest letter, the one he got today, it was a warming letter, she was talking about how she used to climb trees with her brother when she was a kid but never dared to go high, and how all the assignment was stressing her out and that writing to him helps her feeling better. Sirius felt like shit reading the lines.

He finally compare the two handwriting and threw his head back when they were the same. All the memories of the letter who were a source of joyed turned into a taste of disgust in the back of his tongue. What was before a blessing to be able to read those impossible lines became a curse. He hated it.

He hated how much of an impact her being a slytherin had on him, he didn’t want to deal with the emotion and decided to burry it deep inside of him. He didn’t copy the notes Y/N gave him and used Remus’ instead, he didn’t go to supper that evening, he didn’t respond to the letter like usual, and he didn’t sleep that night.

---------------------------------

Y/N was a bit surprise to not have any letters from Sirius that night, she had not see him in the Great Hall either, that got her a bit worried. She tried to reassure herself, he did say he had difficulties with that specific potion so he was probably studying.

She laughed at that idea, she had never seen him study before, clever and smart Sirius. Always finding ways out of situation, always the right answer in class if he bothered participating. The two month were over soon she realised and he had still to find her. She felt a bit of dispointment but also a satisfaction of winning the bet. She blushed when she remembered Sirius had promised a date if he find her before. Would he still wants to ask her if the bet  was over ?

She thought for a moment, she hoped he would, she was still a bit scared to reveal herself, but she was confident everything would go alright if she did. After all, they had spend so much time sharing their hearts, it couldn’t desappear that easily, right ?

The next day she searched for him in the crowd and she felt her stomach flip, he looked livid, her first thought went to his mother, has she send another letter ? She felt so bad for him, she just wanted to hold him in her arms and tells him everything would be alright because he was capable of anything.

When their eyes met, Sirius quickly looked away, he didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to think of all the things happening in his head and she was only making things worse. Y/N didn’t know what to think of that, she decided to let him his space, he could always write to her if he needed her help.

But Y/N’s concern only got worse, it was Remus who gave her back her notes, and when she asked if Sirius was ok, he just nodded and said he will be alright. He completly ignore her in class, and wierdly enough he seemed to look at her way more often than before but always looked away when she noticed him.

She send a little message, a very short one, “Are you ok ? I’m worried”, all she was able to write down, she felt a weight in her stomach getting heavier every day and sharp glass in her throat forbbiding her to talk.

Those feeling only got worse when Sirius only responded with “I know who you are. Astronomy tower, 11PM, tomorrow” Y/N has never sweat that much in her entire life.

-----------------------

The walk from the dungeon to the astronomy tower was a long walk, and she was very careful to not get caught by anyone patrolling the corridors, she was trembling like a leaf in the wind. Each step getting heavier. But when she finally arrived, he was there, looking at the window, he turned to her when he heard someone enter.

For a solid second they just stand there, looking at eachother, not daring to say a word, but after a few moment it Y/N who spoke. “So... You know who I am”

“Yeah..”, his eyes looked in the void, he didn’t know what to do, he felt completly paralized. “Well.. What now ?” she didn’t dare to look a him either. “I don’t know”

Y/N froze for a moment, he didn’t know ? He is the one who asked her to come here ! After all they shared to one another, all the words exchanged, all those freaking kisses and hugs that’s all he had to say ? What for ? “Is it because I’m a slytherin ?”

Sirius didn’t answer for a moment but that spoke for itself, Y/N scoffed, tears running down her cheeks. “Of course” Sirius frowned “What do you mean by that ?”

“Of FUCKING course the great Sirius Black can’t deal with the fact he befriended a slytherin, how could have i been this stupid to think he could get over his own prejudice on a house he knows nothing about” Sirius stood from the window seat and walked to her visibly pissed “I know enough ‘bout yer stupid house to know t’s just a bunch a soon to be death eaters !”

Y/N open her mouth, completly shocked “Death eater ? Death. Eaters ? What do you even know about it ? Have you even try to talk to-” “Actually, yes, I did ! And mind ya all those I have talked to are nothing but monsters, so I prefer keep you and your kind away from me as much as possible”

Heavy tears were falling, how could he say that ? Her voice were cracking “Me and my kind ?! Do I look like a monster to you ?” Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times “Maybe, yeah ! I know nothing about you !”

“NOTHING ?! I OPEN MY HEART TO YOU AND SERVED IT ON A GOLDEN PLATE !”

“WELL I DON’T WANT IT ! YOUR PEOPLE ARE NOTHING BUT A SHAME TO THESE SCHOOL, I DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND HOW YOU ARE LET STUDYING HERE !  NOTHING BUT ABOMINATIONS ! YOU WILL JU-”

“MAY I KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE ?!”

Y/N and Sirius froze, Professor McGonagall and prefect were standing at the door, arms crossed, a severe look on her face. “So ? I’m waiting”. Both the students were heads down, ashamed of being caught like four years old. It is Sirius who answered “Nothing Professor", she frowned when she saw the tears Y/N was quickly swipping away and her puffy eyes. “Well I am sure you will gladly do nothing at your detention tomorow after class”

“Yes Professor” have they replied in union, “Now, I believe you both know the way back to your dorm ? Go Miss Y/L/N, accompagny her Mister Collins, and it better not happen again” Y/N nod, unable to say another word and got out, following Collins. “Follow me Mister Black”, Sirius followed without a word.

After a few minutes, when they were starting to climb the moving stairs back to the Gryffindor commun room, she spoke, “I will not hide to you that I am quite desappointed Mister Black”, he frowned but before he could they anything, McGonagall added “I heard enough of your conversation to know what was happening, Mister Black” He felt his blood running out his face, probably leaving whiter than snow. “Professor I-”

“I don’t need your explainations, what you have said to Miss Y/L/N is simply intolarable, I thought better of you” Sirius was now red of shame, he didn’t know what to say, actually, he already regretted every words, he regretted them the second they have left his lips. “I can understand your disfavour toward the slytherin, I know your difficult relationship with your family and the fact they were all from this house, but I need you to understand that not all slytherin are bad people, the same way not all people who were from gryffindor turned out to be good people. Do you understand ?” Sirius nodded “I want you to think about it, goodnight Mister Black”

Sirius said goodbye and enter the common room before going to his shared dorm, he was not surprise to see that none of the marauders were sleeping. Sirius put the map he had used to sneek out in James drawer, his friend spoke “Where were you ?”

He didn’t answered at first, letting himself flopped on his bed, face first and groaning into his pillow. His friends looked at each other, worried, “Were you with a girl ?”, that only made him groaned louder. “C’mon, talk t’ us” said Remus, who stood up to sat beside his friend.

Sirius didn’t said anything for a moment, he was gnaw with guilt, he wanted all he said back, when he remember you crying his chest tighten, it was his fault if those tears were rolling down your cheek, if you were screaming at him, he had said such horrible thing to you but you didn’t said anything bad, you just observe a hard truth : this idiot could not go past his jugmental ass.

“The anonymous lover is Y/N”, all the marauders gasped together and hurried beside on his bed. “So ? What happenned ? You should be through the roof !” Sirius turned around, “I knew it for ‘ few days now”, James widen his eyes “ ‘nd you did tell us ?!”

Sirius grimaced “I know ! ‘m sorry ! ‘t just...” Remus frowned, something bad happened. “Pads, what have y’ done ?”, he simply put a pillow on his face, groaning and speaking intelligible words. “Wha’ ?”

“I TOLD HER SLYTHERIN WERE ABOMINATIONS !” they all sat there for a moment. James finally took the pillow from Sirius and hit him as hard as he possibly could with it “You. Are. An. I. DI. OT.”

“OUCH ! Yeah, YEAH ! I know, stop hitting me !” but he didn’t stop before a few more hit. He stop and catched back his breath. “I wouldn’t like to be you” said Peter, “Yeah, no shit Worm-” -another hit from James- “What do I do now ?!”

“Wha’ ? ‘cause you want her now ?” questionned Remus, he did not approve of his friend behavior, but he assumed that since he basicly called her a monster, he must not want to be with her. He observed his friend for a moment “C’mon, tell us everythin’ “

Sirius told them everything, from how he foud out, to what McGonagall had told him, passing by the horrible things he said to Y/N and him hiding his feelings away, getting interrupt occasionly by hit from James. But then he stopped, realising something horrible. “Oh no. Oh no no no no, I’M BECOMMING MY MOM !” He put his face in his hands. “I said such horrible things to her, she didn’t deserved any of it ! How do I make her feel better ?” He sounded desperate.

James put a hand on his friend’s shoulder “You gotta show her you really regret wha’ you said”

“Maybe some gifts ?” suggested Peter.

“Nah, first you have to deal with yer slytherin hate” said Remus.

Sirius frowned “What do you mean ?”

“If you want to date a slytherin, you have to deal with your irrational hate towards all of ‘hem”

“It’s not irrational ! I have perfectly good reas-” but he stopped mid-sentence, it was the argument with Y/N all over again, he sighed, he did need to deal with that.

“Let’s sleep, it’ll be better tomorow” said James who went to his own bed, the rest nodded and did the same.

Sirius put on some pyjamas and laid there for long minutes, thinking about why he hated slytherin so much, about his family, about Y/N. About the tears he caused, he wanted to punch himself for that, he swore that night that he will do anything to put a smile on her face and never see her cry again. He knew it will be hard but he will do anythign to deserve her fogiveness.

----------------------------

@blackpinkdolan  @jentaculargums @bruxa0007 @deathkat657 @theincredibledeadlyviper @bleh-bleh-blehs @whiskeypowder @edithsvoice @weasleybeb

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

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

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

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stares back at you. “No.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 1: Denial|

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

You eye him. “Okay…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a beat, and then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

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

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

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

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

She nears you. “Explain.” 

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

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

“You like him, you bitch!” 

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 2: Anger|

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

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

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

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A toboggan, you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This all feels too real, now.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You knew?”

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

—

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

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

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

“You sound nervous,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

[eclipsedpascal]

Making Daddy Proud

Stepdad!Duncan x Female Reader

After moving in with your estranged mother and her new husband, Duncan Shepherd, you started to grow very close to your new stepdad. The two of you had a great relationship and he was doing his best to be a good father figure for you, knowing you missed your dad so much. But there was a problem, you found yourself insanely attracted to him and were starting to notice little things indicating he might feel the same way.

Warnings: very inappropriate relationships, Stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, Cheating is ofc implied, 20+ year age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex (but I kinda imagined the reader to be on birth control so is okie😌) fingering (female receiving), choking, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving) and face fucking😃

Notes: Okie sooo I know some people will hate this fic and ofc I understand that, but if you do hate it then please don't send me any hate!! just don't read it🖤 anywayss I got dis ask saying "Concept: Stepdad Duncan x naive reader😉" nd omg i LOVE the whole concept of Stepdad!Duncan sm, like if you've been in the fandom for a while you'll probably know the fic "The Hand That Robs the Cradle" by Langdonsrapture nd that fic was my holy grail when it came out!! so you know I just had to go all out here nd get carried away writing it hehe:')

word count: 5.4k

●●●●●●●●

The opportunity to study political science at American University in Washington DC had been one you simply couldn’t pass up on, but unfortunately it meant moving away from your father to stay closer to campus grounds. You knew it was worth it in the long run, I mean you had been waiting on this chance for years and wanted to make your father proud, but you would miss him.

He was never home too much, always busy working, but he meant the world to you. It had been just the two of you for a long time now. Your mother had moved away once their divorce finalised 7 years ago, impulsively leaving you in his custody as she ran off and gallivanted around the world, meeting all sorts of interesting men she would tell you about.

Luckily for you, she had settled down with one of those interesting men in DC recently, and upon discovering your acceptance into the prestigious university she had offered you a place to stay whilst you studied.

It was a frightening move to make, but staying with your mother in DC had actually been pretty interesting. You hadn’t spent time with her in so long and it had been nice to catch up with her, I mean sure she had been a little distant, but that was expected with having not spent any real time with her in so long.

You were just grateful she had let you stay with her in the first place, thinking she would have probably preferred to be left alone with her new husband, Duncan Shepherd.

They had been married about four months when you moved in and from what you could see, things were going well; especially considering she had sprung the engagement on everyone pretty fast. You were just happy knowing she was happy.

Though you had only met the man in question once before moving in, he really seemed like a perfect partner. He didn’t have a single obvious flaw to him, but see that was the problem. He was completely flawless to you.

You had tried to find things you didn’t like about him, even just tiny things, thinking hating him would be far better than thinking of him the way had been, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to fault him. And the longer you stayed with them, the worse your little problem became.

You weren’t 100% sure of how old he was. You only knew he was in his early to mid forties. But being at least 20 years your senior, you knew he was definitely old enough to be fulfilling the role he was as your stepfather. It felt strange to have a new stepdad at the age of 20, (almost 21) but it was even stranger with you being so blindly attracted to him.

And it wasn’t even just his looks. Though, yes, they were quite the spectacle, it was more than that. He was confident and cocky, always knowing exactly what to do and say to make the people around him do whatever he wanted them to. He could make you laugh until your stomach was in cramps, and not just through telling dad jokes. Charisma rolled off of him in waves.

He was intuitive and crafty; smart to put in plainly. And his interests appeared to be more intellectually based than anything else, which was quite the opposite of your mother, so it baffled you as to how your mother had managed to snatch him up so easily in the first place.

Now it’s not that you were jealous, really. It was more that you didn’t understand how these two polar opposite personality’s had ended up colliding together in the manner that they had.

Whenever the three of you would sit and have an evening meal together, Duncan always made you feel welcomed in the conversation, which was a great comfort to both you and your mother, being the relationship you had was so strained. Because of this and the fact you both had quite a lot in common when it came to your interests, Duncan and you had become almost good friends in the small time that you had been living there.

It was obvious he was doing his best to be some kind of fatherly figure to you. knowing that you were missing your actual dad, he did his best to help you with the things he knew your dad usually would. Whether it was school work or just having someone to joke with from time to time. He was there.

Sometimes when he was there, though, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he felt something more too. Such as the moments where his stares would linger on your form for just a little too long, or the way he would sometimes fix your hair for you if it had strayed across your face the wrong way. Just small things he did that fatherly figures didn’t typically tend to do with their daughters; especially when his wife, your mother, was right there. Sure, she seemed oblivious to it, but you certainly weren’t.

●●●●●●●●

Taking your now lukewarm cup of coffee from the breakfast bar counter, you brought it to your lips and gulped the bitter liquid down, fighting viciously to stay alert. It was nearing 3am and you had been writing for hours. Concentrating was no longer your most favourable asset and your half lidded eyes were growing wearer by the minute, but you just had to finish this paper.

It was 17 percent of your grade and due in two weeks. A persuasive essay on propaganda within the current American political climate and you had been slowly working at it for weeks, but you knew if you left it hanging over your head any longer it would drive you insane.

Sitting back in the stool you resided on, you took quick solace in the many noises coming from the ajar kitchen window, listening to a low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the constant pitter patter of rain falling from the gloomy DC sky above. It had been hot and humid all week, eventually cultivating into large clouds that had now given in, spilling out showers for almost the entire day past.

You recalled all the time you’d spent by the pool with your mother and Duncan in the past week, enjoying the current heatwave by sunbathing next to it on one of the many loungers. The house was kind of set up like a hotel that way. With Duncan always needing to be prepared for any events he may have to hold for his company’s business associates or press, he had furnished the home with what was to the three of you, unnecessary seating and tableware; amongst other things.

You stirred, returning your eyes back to the last few lines you had written and attempted to go over them in your head, but quickly realised you couldn't even manage that without stumbling over them or jumbling the words up beyond comprehension.

Abruptly interrupting your confused stream of thought, was the kitchen door groaning open. So with a frown plastered to your face, you shot your head up to recognise the intruder. But your frown was quickly blown away at discovering that it was Duncan who had entered the balmy room, and he was in more glory than you had ever seen him.

You had seen his silhouette whilst he showered before. Having gone into his and your mother’s shared bedroom whilst searching for earrings, you had seen him through the whited out, frosted glass of the on-suit bathroom door. But this was something entirely different. This was him, stood in kitchen doorway with nothing on but his grey Calvin Klein boxers.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you were still up.” He quirked a brow at you, wondering why you were still sat in the kitchen so late at night. You swallowed deeply at the sight of him. Your eyes magnetised to his body, dilating with such a sultry image before them. Pulling your eyes back up to his face, you hoped he hadn’t seen their little detour down to his crotch.

“Uhm.. i’m, uh.. w-working on an essay.” Fuck! He’ll definitely know how nervous you are now. You looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and cringing at your own attempt to speak. “It’s due in next week and I wanted to get it finished.” Okay that’s better, you thought. Maybe he’ll just think you’re just too tired to have a proper conversation or something.

“Oh, right,” he trailed off, looking you up and down a bit as he walked further into the room. You watched the back of his head as he opened the fringe, holding it open and scanning the contents of it. Deciding on a small bottle of water, he retrieved it from the middle shelf before closing the door and walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter from you.

He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact he was practically undressed in front of you. Of course, you weren't complaining, but it was interesting. You tried to think of something else you could add to your open word document, wanting to distract yourself from his displayed body. But thinking as hard as you possibly could, your mind still brought you nothing.

You awkwardly pulled at the sleeve of your oversized ‘American University” sweater and hoisted it back up onto your shoulder. It had ridden down your arm whilst you were aggressively fiddling with your fingers - a nervous habit you had developed in your early teens. People would often point it out to you, but it was just one of those things you couldn’t stop doing.

There was a deafening silence stuffed between the two of you. So looking around the room, you tried to focus on anything in your line of vision that wasn’t him. It was just too hard seeing him like; his plump lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth as he drank, his sleepy un-styled curls falling just above his perfectly manicured brows and wearing nothing but those fucking grey boxers. He was making it unbearably hard not to stare.

Deciding to speak, you cleared your throat. “So did you just wake up? Or could you not sleep?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the most random shit.. and you know how your mom is, she snores a lot.” He chuckled. His eyes never leaving you, beginning to feel as if they were boring holes into your soul as you kept full eye contact with him.

“Yeah, that must get pretty annoying.” You nodded slowly, thinking about how many nights you had spent wide awake when you were younger, all due to her roaring, loud snores passing through the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

“It does.” A smile played on his lips, taking another swig of water before speaking again. “so what’s the essay about?”

“It’s that one I was telling you about a few weeks ago, if you remember. it’s a persuasive on propaganda within the current American political climate.” You reminded him of the conversation you had about it when he dropped you off to class one morning not too long ago. The two of you often carpooled together, with the University campus being so close to his office, it made for an easy drive on the days he was needed in.

You guys would listen to playlists together on the drive and make fun of each others music taste, that was when you weren’t too busy being amazed by how similar they could be.

“Are you struggling with it? I mean, it is getting pretty late now.” He turned to check the clock which hung on the wall behind him, then looked back at you questioningly.

Duncan was good at helping you with this kind of thing. He was extremely well versed in politics, with his family’s background and all. Your mom had told you he used to be very involved with the white house, saying when he was younger he even went to prison for a short time before president underwood had pardoned him.

“I just can’t concentrate, but I really need to get it done or it’ll stress me out.” You lifted your bare feet up onto the stool seat, your knees coming up to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. You were only wearing panties with the sweater, it being too hot to wear anything more.

“Can I come over and check it?” He closed his bottle of water, tightening the lid with his muscular arms as he spoke. You had almost forgot he wasn’t wearing much before he said this, but watching him screw the bottle cap on as he asked to could come round to your side of the counter? It had you weak for him all over again.

“Uh.. yeah, course.” He padded his bare feet over the white, tiled flooring towards you, placing the bottle down on the counter and moving behind you to read the most recent paragraphs you had written. His hand was stretched over to the other side of you, resting on the edge of the breakfast bar as the skin of his arm grazed across your back.

Even with you being sat on such a tall stool, he still managed to tower over you. His hight was usually intimidating as it was, but with the added factor of him being almost completely undressed it was even worse. A small waft of air blew his expensive cologne towards you, creeping past your nostrils and possessing your senses completely before you started to feel his breathe on your upper neck. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to make your cunt start pulsating.

You were disgusted by yourself. He’s your mother’s husband! And your Stepdad! What the fuck was wrong with you? You could only imagine what people’s reactions would be if they knew of the truly sinful thoughts you had about him, and you hated yourself for it.

He was your type, yes. A rich, older man who wasn’t actually an asshole, and they were hard to come by, but that wasn’t relevant. You needed to control yourself. No matter how hard that may be.

“What you have so far is really good. Your argument is strong and as always with your work, it’s written well. You’re smart, Y/N. It’s impressive.” He humoured himself with a scoff, his voice interrupting your lewd thoughts.

You blushed at his compliment, hiding your face behind your knees slightly and looking up at him. “Thanks, Duncan.” You knew he was just trying to be a good dad figure to you, but you couldn’t help being attracted to the way he was so caring for you. Maybe it’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault all you need is an older man’s approval to become turned on.

“I mean it.” He looks so sincere as he talks to you. His face would be intimately close to yours if you hadn’t hidden it from him earlier. You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes again. His stare no longer felt friendly, but more.. lustful. Were you crazy or was he really doing this?

Suddenly he looks away from you, moving his eyes back to the laptop’s screen. “Maybe you should just get some sleep. I know you said it’ll stress you out, but if you get some rest you’ll be able to get back into it tomorrow with better concentration.” He does his best to steer the conversation back to where is once was, reminding himself that you’re his fucking step daughter and that he has a beautiful wife sleeping just upstairs.

“I know that, its just..” You sighed, blinking up at him. You brought your legs back down you hang over the edge of the seat, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to you, wanting to do nothing more than to drape your arms behind his neck an-.

“Nope I won’t listen to it. From what I can see it’s an incredibly strong piece of work already, so just go get some sleep and come back to it in the morning, okay sweetheart?” He laughed a little, looking down at you again.

That nickname. Sweetheart. He called you it all the time and yet it always managed to take your breath away. But the thing is, he usually wasn’t this close to you when he did. So when you squeezed your legs together and bite down on your bottom lip, doing your best to ease the overwhelming desire you felt for him in that moment, there was no way he hadn’t seen it.

You were frozen staring at him, his face static and unreadable. You hoped he didn't choose to shout at you for how repulsive your behaviour was, or maybe he would kick you out? Your mind began spiralling, wrapping itself in intricate knots as you held your breath, awaiting a reply from him.

“Do you like that? When I call you sweetheart.” His voice was deep, sultry and dripping with desire. Shock coursed through you. That was definitely not what you had expected him to say. He seemed even larger now, his confidence making you feel small in comparison as your mind scrabbled to find the words you were supposed to use in your current predicament, but it never found any.

"You like it when daddy gives you nicknames?” He moved his hand up and delicately grasped the skin where your neck met your jaw, his eyes half lidded with lust. Your heart was beating so fast now and your breathing had grown shallow. You were so lost for words, only able to whimper out a weak “yes” before looking down to his boxers, trying to avoid his eyes but still wanting him just as much as he now appeared to want you.

He lifted your chin and kissed you roughly, drinking in your lips as if you were the water he had ventured down stairs for all along; and you began to wonder if you perhaps were. Maybe you were what he had been craving, just as you had been craving him.

He pulled the stool closer to him with his spare hand, leading you to wrap your legs around his torso as you tangled your tiny fingers through his sleep rustled hair. It was passionate. His kiss was sloppy, yet perfectly executed as his tongue slipped past your lips to glide over your own. His greying stubble dug into your skin, burning it with pure contact.

You parted to breath; and for just a moment, though it felt like hours, you stared into each others eyes with a ferociously neither of you could nor wanted to tame.

He tuts. “You really shouldn’t drink so much coffee little one, it’s not good for you. And it’s all I can taste.” He couldn’t help but reprimand you for the little habit, he had just gotten so used to doing it over the past three months, and using it to tease you sounded even more appealing.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off when he lunged at you again, kissing you viciously. He began to move his hands all across your body, his fingertips grazing over every inch of you they possibly could as he started to undress you, pulling your oversized sweater above your head and taking handfuls of your breasts. He was kneading them, leaning down to kiss and suck on them whilst he watched you throw your head back, completely enthralled by him.

You were taken aback by how quick things had escalated, your sense of control had deteriorated far too rapidly and was ebbing away even further with each little kiss he left on your skin.

His large hand slid down to your panties, playing with the lacy bow that was centred on the waist band. He hovered his hand over your heat, cupping it and feeling just how sticky you had become for him. You let out a moan, all sense of wrong and right leaving you completely as you uttered a soft “Daddy” and ground your cunt into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right. So desperate for daddy.” He mused, ripping your thin underwear off and dropping it down onto the floor beneath you. Bringing his face to yours again, your noses bumped and leant on each other for some kind of purchase, the both of you watching his hand as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, gathering a fair amount of slick on them before pressing two inside you.

“Ahh!!” You let out a moan, it was louder than you expected and reminded you of what was really going on here. Having been too caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even thought about how being complete fucking naked with your step father between your legs would look if your mother had decided to come downstairs.

“Ah, ah, shh baby. We don’t wanna get now caught do we?” His breathe was hot on your lips, whispering as to not alert anyone. “So tight.”

You whispered back. “I’m sorry daddy, it was an accident- mmph!” You muffled your moan.

“That’s it. Who’s my good girl?” He lay a gentle peck on you lips, only stopping as to allow you to answer his question.

“I am daddy!! I’m your good girl!” You spoke with urgency, but did your best to keep the volume low, which was quite the struggle in between moans. Duncan could see this, so he pressed your lips together. Kissing you into a muffled silence.

You felt his spare hand on your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to still breathe okay when he pulled away from your mouth, moving his lips to the shell of your ear and biting the lobe. He murmured in your ear. “Do you know how hard it was, this week? Having to sit there next to your mom at the poolside and see you just lying there like that?! That fucking bikini. It took everything in me not to cum right there.”

His fingers were moving slowly, going in deep and curling up against your g spot, making you cry out and lean on his shoulder, biting it to keep yourself quiet. he started to rub your clit in hard circles. He was so experienced. It was mind-blowing.

“Would it have served you more pleasure to know, I only wore it for you?” It was true, you had only worn it for him and it had obviously worked. You certainly had his attention now. He growled at this, pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to him, speaking down to you. “Just for that? Get on your fucking knees.” As soon as he let go of your throat you were climbing off the stool and onto the floor. The heat of the room, and of your acts too, made the marble tiling feel like ice pressed onto your flushed skin. But you didn't care.

You watched him pull his boxers down, cock springing free, adjacent to his stomach. Never having been with anyone of this size before, you had never seen a cock this big. You reached out and touched it, feeling just how hard he was. He hissed at the contact, looking down at you as you watched his facial expressions with wide eyes.

You played with it in your hand, stroking it with one and palming his balls with the other. He stroked his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring look as you licked the tip. The salty taste hit your tongue, making you crave his cock even more. So without another second going to waste, you took him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Ahh fuck!” You began bobbing your head, your eyes fixed on him as a groan left his lips. He was watching you intently, threading his fingers through your hair and onto your scalp to get a good grip on your head. You let your jaw go loose, knowing what he was about to do and preparing yourself for it.

He started thrusting his hips into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with almost every shove. You had honestly impressed yourself, I mean you knew you gave good head, but taking a cock this big as it fucked into your throat was something to be proud of.

“Mmm that’s it sweetheart.” Your stomach fluttered at his approval. The gagging noises you were making giving him even more pleasure. “You just wanna make daddy proud, don’t you princess?” You mumbled a wet “yes daddy” around his cock, sending sweet vibrations through it as he pushed himself as far as he could into your throat.

You couldn't even fathom how this was happening. You had pictured this moment late at night with a vibe pressed to your clit far too many times to count, so it finally happening was something hard to comprehend. Somehow he looked even more handsome from down on your knees than you had ever imagined he would. His stubble contouring his face perfectly with the ‘o’ his lips were forming.

Suddenly pulling you off of him, you gasped out for oxygen and tried to wipe away some of the saliva dribbling down your chin. It was like a snapshot from one of Duncan’s wet dreams. You looked so incredibly fucked out. He thought it was beautiful.

“Come on little one, stand up. Daddy wants to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” You moaned as he talked down to you, stroking his calloused thumb over your bottom lip and pulling it down just to watch it bounce back up again.

You stood up, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you had wanted to all this time. He pulled you in for a kiss, one much slower than the rest, communicating something more to you than just pure sexual carnality. His embrace was comforting, making you feel protected and small in his arms.

His hands grabbed at your ass as he picked you up, sitting you back down onto the bar stool and adjusting the hight while his lips stayed connected to yours. Once the seat was low enough for his liking, he picked up your thighs, shelving them onto his hips and laying you back just enough so that you could lean on the backrest.

The room was sweltering, your body hot against his and anticipating having him buried inside you was getting too much to handle. He dragged his cock through your lips, teasing your clit and moving back down to almost enter you, but he never would. Just wanting to get you all worked up and loving the way you would squirm when he did.

“Daddy.. please.” You steadied yourself by holding on to the sides of the seat, hoping he would end his tournament and fuck you already.

He slid the head barely into you. “Hmm… Since you were so polite, suppose daddy should reward you.” He spoke calmly before snarling and stuffing himself into you, pushing as deeply as he physically could. He felt your walls clamp around him as he set his pace. It was a lot. Having never taken a cock this big and the fact he didn’t even let you adjust, you couldn’t help but wail out.

He shot his hand up to cover your mouth, needing to keep you quiet and seeing you clearly couldn’t do it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy now, would you baby?” you attempted to utter a “No daddy”, but his hand kept your lips glued shut.

He fucked you. Like really really fucked you. He was making the stool shuffle underneath you, the powerfulness of his thrusts causing you to slide down in the seat. The only reason you didn’t slip off completely being the barbarian hold he had on your hips.

It actually surprised you how rough he was. A pleasant surprise, of course, but he had been so delicately caring towards you since becoming your step father and now here you were, receiving the best of both worlds.

The closer you grew to your high, the more incoherent your thoughts became. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips trembling as he picked you up off the seat and held you closer to him. Supporting your ass, his hips ricocheted up and off yours as he tried desperately not to yell out.

His thumb was brought back down to your clit as he pressed you up against him, swiping at it hellishly, trying to hurry up your release upon feeling your legs begin to quiver; and knowing his own was approaching rapidly.

“That’s it sweetheart, come around daddy’s cock… Gonna cum so fucking deep inside your cunt. Would you like that?” You could see a thin line of perspiration cascading down his cheekbone, he was almost breathless and his thrusts were messier now.

“Yes da-AHH!“ you whipped a hand up to your face, holding your mouth shut as you came. You dug the hand you had placed on his shoulder deep into his skin and was quickly reminded of his marriage to your mother. You hoped you hadn't left any nail indents she might see.

You felt his hot seed spurt onto your walls as he rested his head on yours, mouth open wide and letting out a silent groan. His release was long and powerful. The both of you were left panting, the only noise in the room being your own breaths and a small creak from the stool when he softly set you down onto it.

He pulled out, your mixed juices gushing out of you along with the sexual haze you had been overcome with. The severity of what you had just done began to settle in. His head still resting on yours as you started freaking out, contemplating what would happen if your mother was to ever find out what had just occurred.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing his comfort and squeezing him in an urgent hug, which he returned. his fingers stroked the sweaty skin of your back, trying to ease the thoughts he too had running through his mind. He lifted your chin up, the look he had in his eyes telling you everything would be okay.

Kissing you cautiously, he savoured the feeling of your lips on his and prayed he would get a chance to feel them again. “Are you okay?” He whispered

You didn’t really know if you were. On one hand, that was something you had wanted for a long time and it had been far better than you ever imagined, but on the other you had just helped your stepfather cheat on your mother. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He stood up, grabbing your sweater and panties, handing them to you before putting his boxers back on. “Well, at least that paper won’t seem like such big problem now.” He chuckled, doing his best to find humour in a humourless situation.

You giggled a little, hurrying to throw on your sweater and being reminded of how he had ruined your panties. “True. Now this can hang over my head instead.” You wiped any left over salvia you had on your face onto your sleeve and thought about how you would probably need to shower after this. “At least the sex was worth it, right?”

He sent you a dark smirk, picking up his bottle of water and walking towards the kitchen door. “It was. hopefully it'll be just as good next time too.” You opened your mouth, faking shock at his confidence as you watched him open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N” He gave you one last look as he sauntered through the door, getting ready to close it behind him and leave you alone in the kitchen with no one but your thoughts. The thoughts of your acts. Remembering all the little moments you had just shared together.

In that last moment before he left, you struck eye contact with him, chewing your inner lip and speaking.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

●●●●●●●●

Thank you sm for reading!🥺🖤

Tags: @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby i'm so so sorry if you don't like this kinda fic or it has triggered you in anyway, but just let me know if it has and I won't tag you in this kind of thing ever again! You can also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too:)

[soranis-sunshadow]

Entrapta deserved better

My posts are usually either detailed analysis or memes and shitposts.

I’ve re-watched the show and this will be an angry rant…  

With every viewing of the show, Entrapta’s arc makes me progressively angrier because I empathize with her so much.

She is introduced to the show as being a reclusive scientist, known throughout the Maker’s guild for her genius. Even her staff is weary of her. She spends all her time alone with her robot friends in her lab within her isolated castle.

The alliance interacts with her with the explicit purpose of recruiting her into their war effort. They want her for her ability to build weapons for them. That’s as deep as the relationship goes this far.

Entrapta has no stakes in the war, the Horde hadn’t attacked Dryl. She joins them because she wants to be their friend; she wants to help them in the only way she knows how, using her technological prowess to their benefit. Due to her isolation (and her being autistic), Entratpa struggles to understand interpersonal dynamics. Human interaction is a skill she has had little practical experience with. She understands the concepts, the rules of the game, so to speak, but she has seen it in play only as a third party rarely ever practicing it herself.

She’s invited to the Princess prom due to her princes status but she’s an outsider there too. No “friendly” princess seeks her out to hang out with her as a friend would. The only person who does so is Catra, and she does it for her own reasons…

With Glimmer abducted, the alliance mounts a half-baked rescue operation. Everything Entrapta did in this episode had a purpose, it looked like she kept getting distracted when in actuality, she was studying horde tech, rescuing Seahawk and furthering their mission and she had no time to explain herself (it also occurs to me that Entrapta might not explain herself because no one asked and no one ever understands her reasoning anyway) The princesses try to control her because she’s being “difficult”. They don’t care why she’s being difficult, they want her to conform.

Once they rescued Glimmer, they don’t even come back to check if Entrapta’s actually dead, or to get her remains and put them to rest respectfully. They allready have the princess they came for.  

Entrapta is all alone with her new robot friend Emily in the Frightzone vents, expecting that she’d get rescued because “no princess left behind” but rescue never actually comes.

Catra uses this new abandonment to convince her to switch sides. Entrapta didn’t jump ship because of her tech hyperfixation, she switched sides because Catra used her skill at pinpointing someone’s weak-spot and poking at it. 

Catra may not have been Shadow Weaver’s favorite ward (she was her scapegoat and punching bag, the poor girl) but she did learn from her and repeatedly put those skills to “good” use.

Once they find out she’s alive, the alliance wants to rescue her but she’s made new friends in the Horde and she think that they understand her fascination with science, friends that actually interact with her directly. She actually feels included here and as such, she’s not eager to return to the alliance’s side.

Entrapta befriends Catra and Scorpia but even in this trio, she is the third wheel. Catra is focused on herself, her ascension in The Horde and on her missing Adora. Scorpia is focused on Catra and on pinning for her.

Once Entrapta and Hordak start growing closer together, Catra stops talking to her. Perhaps she was hurt because Entrapta “broke her promise” to not go in Hordak’s sanctum, perhaps she was envious of her closeness to the Horde leader, or perhaps both, either way, the friendship is broken from Catra’s side. Entrapta still sees her as a friend and fights Hordak over the decision to send her to Beast Island. Despite his grouchiness, he considers her request and grants it.

As recompense for saving her life, Catra backstabs Entrapta when she tried to stop Catra from triggering a potentially world ending event and then sends her to the fate Entrapta saved her from: exile on Beast Island.

When faced with the choice between Catra and Entrapta, Scorpia choses Catra. Hordak is lied to so he doesn’t know to look for her, he believed she used him and is heartbroken about it.

You can actually pinpoint the moment his little heart breaks in this scene:

 Even so, he spends most of season 4 wanting to face her; he’d rather see her as an enemy than not see her at all.

After Catra proves herself a bad friend, (after months) Scorpia finally decides to rescue Entrapta and goes looking for help, deserting to the alliance. She has this little realization:

Adora is the only person that actually wants to go right away and rescue her. Bow wants to rescue her because they need her tech savvy and Glimmer says that they can rescue her after the war or something… (the Island she’s on is a death trap, she might not live that long for all they know)

she said this 

then this

She knows that this is a time sensitive issue but she wants to put it off  despite the urgency, if that doesn’t sound like friendship to you, then what does?  *sarcasm intensifies*

Contrast this with how the villain of the show reacted to the news of her being sent to Beast Island:

On Beast Island Bow gives her a longwinded speech about how she’s supposed to work harder at friendship. I know he’s projecting his own issues here but it still makes me so damn angry. Entrapta’s trying; she’s trying so hard, no one ever tries back! No one makes the effort to understand her (except that one clone but we’re not talking about him), she has to conform to their expectations, the reverse is never applicable.

Anyway, stuff happens and Glimmer is abducted again, by Horde Prime this time.

Then that whole “Lauch” episode happened. Entrapta is distrusted by the alliance more than Scorpia is. She is seen and cold and interested only in tech, she has to explain and redeem herself in their eyes after they treat her like rubbish. They don’t connect the fact that helping them with tech is how she shows her friendship. 

It’s the only thing she thinks she’s worth to them. She wants to be accepted by them so badly.

 Entrapta gets emotional over rescuing Glimmer! 

The person who when faced with the same prospect, said she’d do it later…

Even Catra’s apology to Entrapta for trying to kill her is a blank “I’m sorry”. Pls say what exactly you are sorry for Catra. Entrapta deserves that much. Bow received a better apology for far less of an offense.

All she ever does in the show is work towards furthering someone else’s goals, her own are always a second thought. As @cruelfeline​ pointed out, even a small scene with her discussing what happened with Hordak, her reaction to it and the gang focusing on Entrapta’s troubles for ONCE , even if it’s just offering her emotional support, would have meant so much.

Why is the show trying to tell me that Entrapta should work on being a better friend?

That's a terrible message!

She doesn't need to work harder on her friends, she NEEDS BETTER FRIENDS.

So many of us ND people end up being third wheels at best and we blame that on ourselves, we internalize the reasoning that our friendship fail because we’re weird and we’re not doing it right. That we’re the ones that have to try harder to be understood and that our concerns should come second.  That is a terrible thing to internalize, we are blaming ourselves constantly because we try to understand others and they never try to understand us back. 

With age, I’ve grown out of trying and being different so that other people would like me. They’d end up liking the mask I project, not me anyway. I’ve found people that understand me and that like me for who I am, but only after I’ve stopped trying to be “better” for others to accept me. With being honestly “weird” with those around me, I’ve been accepted far more than for trying to fit in. And I’ve realized that people that shun my otherness are not worth the effort to try and befriend in the first pace .

 That is what young autistics need to hear, not “git gud” at friendship.  You are not wrong, you are not defective or broken, you are you and you’re beautiful just the way you are. If other people don’t see that, then the failing is theirs. Don’t change, just look for people that see you. 

[stargazing-dreamer-girl]

You & I

Requested by anon: “Could I get a Luke Patterson x reader where the reader is able to see Luke, Reggie, nd Alex. The only difference from julie is that she can make contact w/them.”

A/N: I rewrote this a bunch of times actually because it never really worked out but here is this xD just some Luke fluff

Pairing: Luke Patterson x female!reader

WC: 1.6k

“Luke!” You spun around with your hand on your chest begging your racing heart to calm down. Luke had scared you by just appearing behind you. “What the fuck?! You can’t scare me like that, it’s bad for my health!” you complained, turning back to your locker. There were already people looking at you because of your outcry and you didn’t want to raise more attention.

“I just came to see you. Is it really that bad that I missed my amazing, beautiful girlfriend who I haven’t seen in way too long?” He leaned against the locker next to yours dramatically, his gaze never leaving you. He gently reached out to your wrist playing with the guitar charm on your bracelet. It had been a gift from him. Well, he asked Julie for help since he couldn’t purchase anything given the fact that he was a ghost, but he was the one who chose what to get you and Julie bought it for him. Now, you never took it off.

You chuckled at his theatrics. “We just saw each other yesterday,” you reminded him. You had been over at Julie’s to help her with some homework which resulted in the two of you spending time in the garage with the boys and not getting a lot of stuff done. Instead, you had talked, played some music and joked around. A good alternative to studying in your eyes.

“That doesn’t count!” He pouted. “You were there for Julie, not for me. When was the last time we spend time together, just the two of us?” The question caught you off-guard. It had indeed been a little while ago. Way too long, you thought. Somehow someone was always around, whether it be Alex and Reggie, Julie, Flynn or even your parents. Although your parents were oblivious to Luke’s presence, it was like they knew when he was in your room, so they would barge in to interrupt. Or they would call when you were out, needing you to come home immediately or do something for them right away. Whenever you tried to do something together, someone always seemed to intervene.

“You’re right.” You sighed, looking over at him, but you turned right back towards your locker when you realized there was another person at their locker right behind to Luke. You wouldn’t want them to think you were talking to them. Luckily, they didn’t pay you much attention. You tried to look busy by reorganizing your books. When you spoke again it was in a quiet voice. “I hate that we weren’t able to be together without anyone else around. It feels like the universe is trying to keep us apart or something.” You laughed, playing your statement off as a joke, but it was a thought that had occurred to you many times before. Being in a relationship with a ghost was… It was great, actually. You loved Luke and he loved you and there wasn’t a human alive on Earth that you had a similar connection with than you had with Luke, but there was always Flynn’s nagging voice in your head reminding you that he was a literal ghost. He was not alive. And how could this ever be something real, if you were alive and he was not?

But it didn’t feel like that to you. You were able to see Luke, to touch him. He was just like any other boy to you in those regards. Sometimes when you were alone with him you even forgot that he was a ghost. You’d be harshly reminded of it again when someone would walk through him or he would walk through something or when he would teleport out of wherever you’d be. Your logical brain, backed up by Flynn, would tell you that it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t right to be in a relationship with a ghost, but your heart? Your heart told you that you loved Luke. It didn’t care about what the future would hold. It cared about the here and now, the moments you shared.

Luke could read the troubling thoughts that were on your mind from your face, your furrowed brows and pursed lips a dead giveaway. He leaned towards you. Determination written across his face. “Let’s get out of here!” He grabbed your hand and pulled you away, closing your locker in the process. You tried to keep up with him, so it wouldn’t look like you were being pulled by thin air. The idea of skipping class and spending time with Luke instead actually sounded great. You’d rather do almost anything with him right now than stay in that building and fight your way through three more classes. And the chance was slim that you’d get interrupted since Julie and Flynn were still at school, your parents at work and what Reggie and Alex were up to you didn’t know.

“Studio or my house?” you asked to check where you’d be going.

“Reggie might be hanging out at the studio, so let’s go to your house,” he answered. His hand still firmly held onto yours. “What’s on your mind?” he followed up when he noticed your focus on your intertwined hands.

“I’m just grateful, I guess, that I get to see you and touch you.” You gently squeezed his hand. You did that a lot, especially with your friends around. It was a subtle way to show your affection or to reassure each other of your presence. “I don’t know how it came to be that it is this way, but I’m really glad.” You smiled at him.

When you arrived at your house Luke immediately went to your living room couch and made himself comfortable while you put your bag away in your room. “Do you want to watch a movie?” You asked when you joined him. Without waiting for a reply, you grabbed the remote to pull up a movie on Netflix as you sat down next to him, but that wasn’t good enough for Luke. He always held back around the others because he knew it might make them uncomfortable, but he loved holding you, touching you, having you close, so he pulled you in to lie against his side, an arm securely wrapped around your waist. You rested your head on his shoulder still looking for something to watch. “What kind of movie are you in the mood for?”

“Just put on something you like. I probably won’t know it anyway.” That wasn’t a big help, but after a bit more contemplation decided on one. It was a movie you already knew by heart and thought Luke might like as well. But what movie was playing wasn’t of much importance anyways. The way Luke was holding you close, pressing kisses onto the top of your head from time to time, that was what mattered. His thumb kept caressing your side. With the noises from the movie playing in the background your eyelids grew heavy and it wasn’t long until you fell asleep.

Luke noticed it immediately when you fell asleep. You were leaning further into him and your hand had fallen from where it was lying on top of his. He carefully moved to lie down on the couch so as to not wake you up. When he was done your eyes were still closed and your breaths even, still, you seemed to cuddle into him even more in your sleep. Luke couldn’t help but fall even more in love with you at the sight. He was aware that you thought it was creepy when he watched you sleep but he liked doing it. There was nothing to disturb him from taking in all your features, to memorize every little thing about you.

He let you sleep for an hour before he decided it was time to wake you by pressing kisses all over your face. You scrunched up your face at the sensation, your sleep-induced mind barely registering what was happening. When you finally opened your eyes, Luke was smiling at you. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he whispered before he bent down again to connect your lips.

“What time is it?”, you asked him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you slowly sat up.

“Almost 2pm,” he answered after checking your phone.

“Already?!” you exclaimed, now awake. “Why did you let me sleep? You gotta go to practice soon! I thought we wanted to do stuff together today.”

“I do. And I let you sleep because it looked like you needed it. Anyways, technically we did spend time together.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Did you watch me sleep again?”

He already moved away from you, bringing some distance between the two of you in case you would resort to chugging a pillow at him at his answer. A cheeky smile appeared on his face as he pulled his shoulders up. “Maybe.”

You sighed frustratedly. “Please, don’t do that. It feels so weird to know you watch me sleep. Like, what if I drool?”

“You do,” he laughed, moving closer again. He leaned over the back of the couch to gently grab your chin and wipe over it with his thumb. “But it’s cute.” The grin never left his face while you swatted his hand away, pouting.

You groan. “You’re the worst.”

“But you love me,” he continued with a cocky grin which had you roll your eyes.

“I do. Even though I do wonder why sometimes.” You pulled him back towards you to kiss him again, smiling into the kiss. “And now come cuddle with me until you have to go to band practice.” You opened your arms. Luke happily accepted the invitation, jumped over the back of the couch and lay down beside you. With his head resting on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair he let out a sigh and relaxed into your embrace.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled lazily.

[carissalizz]

8X11 DID NOT DISAPPOINT!!

First of all, major kudos to Tracy Spiridakos, the queen herself, for pulling this off and portraying Hailey the way she did. Her acting was beautiful and it really did the story so much justice!!

THAT OPENING SCENE THO!! I truly did not expect that! It was soooooo freaking cute and their interactions were so gentle and genuine! The "day off" reference made me die a little inside and all of this came from literally the first few moments of the show.

The way Jay was constantly there for Hailey showed the dynamic between them two. He obviously knew she felt overwhelmed at his 'I love you' earlier and knew how to support her, even while giving her space. He reigned her in when she was about to go off the rails and that's what I love.

We finally got a Upgess moment!! I always thought that Kim nd Hailey would have a string friendship because they were the only 2 women on a team full of men (or grown children excluding Voight). To see Kim be there for Hailey in her own way is amazing in its own right! That gentle touch showed so much care that Kim had for the other woman. Maybe their friendship just isn't so pronounced on the show, which is why this scene made my heart melt! I hope that shows Hailey that she is supported but her team too!

The scene with Voight and Hailey..... I think Voight knows that there's something going on between his two detectives and are just waiting for them to come clean. The was Voight was talking to Hailey tho.... He was being firm, yet trying to be understanding of how this case pulled at her heartstrings. "All the things that make you bad at the job are the same as what makes you good at it." - this line was so powerful to me.... And I think that this talk with her boss will help Hailey become more determine to be better at her job, knowing she has people like Jay and Hank to turn to. Also, Hank really treats his team like family and I felt like this scene shows how fatherly Voight is towards his team.

Of course, I'm on to the scene at Hailey's apartment. The was he was so soft with her when he replied her question of "you came?".... It already shows that he really loves her and isn't fazed. When she started opening up to him, his face was laced with so much emotion and Jesse Lee Soffer portrayed it beautifully. Hailey, pouring out her thoughts and explaining herself shows how much growth she's been through. It shows how much she trusts Jay and in a way she's showing her love for him too. She wants to be with him and have this relationship with him because (I'd like to think) it's the best thing that happened to her in a very long time. Yet, she doesn't know how to overcome that barrier that stems from her childhood experiences with intimacy and love.

Jay did not waiver one bit. He really accepted Hailey for herself, even parts of her that are broken and slightly more closed off. She was always there for him, grounding him and now he wants to do the same for her. It's really amazing to watch!! When Jay said that he wasn't going anywhere, a look of relief flashed across Hailey's face and it makes me think that a lot of people would have left her after she opened up, making her guard herself even more. Jay isn't going anywhere despite everything that happened and I think in her mind she knows she's found her soulmate. Yes, I'm bringing out that word cuz they are soulmates!

Hailey said "I love you so much" to Jay and my heart was breaking and recovering so fast I really had no idea what emotions I were feeling. Seeing her take that step is so beautiful!! Also, that HUG!! It was full of emotion. His large frame wrapped around her small one ahhhhhh... They really do love each other and trust each other. The way they both melted in each other's arms is so sweet I can't stop replaying it goshhhh!

The whole episode and storyline was written so we'll! I loved all the emotions and dynamics laced throughout and it's so beautiful to see the layers unfold as I watched the episode.

This episode is one of my favourites and I'm sure I'll be rewatching it over and over! I can't believe all the manifesting and hoping for our shop to sail worked! The writers have graced us with the beautiful gift of Upstead and I'm so grateful! Can’t wait to see where Upstead’s gonna go.... (pls get married and have kids) <3

I’m also very grateful for all my friends here on Tumblr, especially @mashleighh!!! Freaking out wth everyone really makes this so much cooler hahahaha love y’alls <3

❤️🥰💕🙏🥺💙😭🤯💜🥳