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#I know so very little and I feel like I have all these bread crumbs leading me to the answers but hhhh

j-nope-not-today · 7 months

Note

Can i get a request of what turns the turtle brothers on? If not thats 100% okay👍🏾 I HOPE YOUR WELL❤️

Tmnt turn on's

A/n: sorry it's been so long since I've written. Things haven't been the best lately, but I figured I should feed ya'll some bread crumbs since it's been so long. Please enjoy. Minor's don't read obvi.

Raphael

So as we all know..Raph is a big ass guy

So absolutely anything to do with your ass is a big turn on for him.

Like if you bend over in front of him..prepare to get got

Will not hesitate to slap your behind..bc it's already right there..

Would use the defense "But you were teasing me!"

I think another big turn on for him would probably be you scratching his shell

Which shouldn't be one..but he's a softie and it's such a nice place to be touched..I honestly think the first time would embarrass him

But it would lead to a very intimate, loving session between you two

Other than that I don't think there are any other note worthy ones to mention

Leonardo

As much as I love leo..I think he's a pretty basic bitch 💅

But not in a bad way..he just doesn't fall into any big mentions for turn on's in my opinion.

I think one he would have would probably be starting anything touchy feely in public.

Like caress his leg under the table or squeeze it and he's gonna get bricked up

I think anything that would get you caught or deemed as "wrong" would definitely be a big turn on

I mean he's always had to be perfect and fit into everyone's image..so he's definitely a little bit freaky.

Donatello

Donnie is a freeeeaaak

I could go on and on about what turns him on

Restraints..omg he's foaming at the mouth

You getting stuck somewhere..that's a definite secret one of his..

I feel you dressing up in cosplay would be a big big one for him bc Donnie is a nerd

But we love that about him

Toss your leg over his waist while your cuddling or sleeping and I ensure you..you'll gain a fun surprise

I feel like Donnie is shy about it at first..but once he's comfortable with you

It's game over..it'll be on sight

So good luck..and enjoy your ability to walk while you have it.

Michelangelo

Just about anything will get him going

Brush your hand on his knee..he's bricked up

Hug him and instantly he'll whine into your ear "Angelcakes~"

He's always in the mood and always ready to go

But he has his limits..I don't think anywhere in front of anyone would get him like that.

I feel he is a very private person..jokes are fine and good..but the real deal and all that is for you two alone

He may be ready for spicy time just about any time..but the romance don't die

He may or may not have mentioned to you once that he wanted to role play himself and..you...delivering his pizza..don't ask..it's a Mikey thing.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt imagine #tmnt x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt mikey #tmnt leonardo #tmnt ralph

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rouiyan · 9 months

Text

𝘞𝘌’𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]

⧏ back to teaser || redirect to playlist ⧐

marks manages to land himself in a forty-two hour drive across the country with his archaeology major ex-girlfriend in the passenger seat. but for the duration of the whole ride, the only thing he can think about is that one twitter meme that states that “a majority of archeologists are women due to their natural ability to dig up the past.”

✧ photographer!mark lee x (fem.) archaeology major!reader ✧ exes to lovers, road trip au, referenced college au ✧ genres — fluff/angst, hurt/comfort ✧ word count — 25.2k

✧ disclaimers — profanity, mentions of food, legal (u.s.) alcohol consumption, they make out like once, emotional insecurity and vulnerability (i.e. several panic attacks, social anxiety), possible terminal illness (not of mcs), generational conflict, y/n cries a lot, mark sucks at parking

✧ caveat — this fictional plot is set in present-day america and does not accurately reflect the locations referenced. furthermore, this publication is not an endorsement of the brand or the product featured. all credit is given where it is due. (sources linked upon conclusion)

✧ author’s note — happy 24th birthday to my dear mark! note that the first scene is the exact same as the teaser, so if you've read that already, feel free to skip over! also note i half-assed the proofread so please let me know of any typos, plotholes, and other stupid stuff that i forgot to adjust. as for myself, you can catch a little update on the past two years of my life at the end of this fic so for now, enjoy!

「 DAY 00, 01:42 PM 」 — CUPID DABBLES IN BURNT TOAST

"oh, come on. i thought you were nicer than that!"

it's at times like these where mark is led to think that haechan only considers him as his very best friend for three things. his toaster, his car, and then of course, how easy it is to torment him.

he’s experienced enough to know that the guilt he feels is really only a direct result of haechan's guilt-tripping antics. and so he responds sarcastically, "yeah, nice enough to save a girl from a week of being in close proximity to the person she hates most in the world."

the toaster dings and haechan catches the two pieces of toast in their flight. he sticks one in his mouth, breaking off a bite, whilst turning to toss the other onto his friend's plate. chewing roughly, he leans back onto the counter opposite of mark, watching in contempt as the latter spreads jam across the burnt slice of bread.

haechan points a finger and juts it in his direction, offhandedly commenting, "i'm starting to think that it's you who hates her," a fact that both friends know isn't true. and because of that, mark doesn't make a big deal of denying it. "i don't hate her. i'm just..." he trails off and haechan takes the opportunity to craftily stage his intervention.

"not trying to make her uncomfortable?"

"yeah, i guess."

"not wanting her to hate you more?"

"there's that too."

"not over her?"

"hey, not cool."

a passage of silence elapses as mark sets the butter knife aside in exchange for his orange juice. gulping it down, he gets through two thirds of the glass before haechan perks up again. "actually, i think she still has a thing for you."

mark sputters, barely swallowing his drink before it could hurl out his disbelieving mouth. trying to smooth over his show of defiance, mark recovers a nonchalant expression as he deadpans, "there's no way. you know better than i do that she fucking hates me."

haechan takes another bite, aware but indifferent at how the crumbs have been gathering at his feet. his eyes trail absentmindedly to the clock on the wall behind mark, but only briefly for the hands are far past where he'd expected them to be. shoving the last of the toast into his mouth, he rushes to gather his belongings whilst uttering to his bewildered company, "shit, i'm gonna be late. pack it up."

obediently downing the rest of his orange juice, mark grabs his half-eaten, jam-slathered, burnt-to-a-crisp toast in one hand as the other reaches for his car keys on the way out. the unbearably hot sun of an early summer afternoon only hurries mark further along to his car, his wishes that he had worn shorts instead of jeans already too late to come true. but once both car doors have been shut and seat belts have been strapped, haechan carries on with his agenda without missing a beat.

"just give her the ride, mark. she'll keep you company and, i don't know, make sure you're not falling asleep at the wheel. and plus, she said she'll split the toll and gas fees."

mark shoves the last bite of toast into his mouth, the charred-ness of it procuring a nice crunch. even after he swallows, it takes him a second to respond. and though his answer is still far from budging, it sounds more like a justification, as if he needs convincing of his own opinion. "tell her it's cheaper to just catch a flight. and faster too."

exasperated, haechan retorts under his breath, "that's the same thing i told you," to which mark gives a raised brow, not catching what he said. instead of repeating, haechan only says, "just take her. you guys need to make up anyways."

that renders mark quiet for the rest of the ride as he tosses the thought over in his head. it's a thought that he knows he's been pushing away for far too long, hoping one day it'll become redundant enough to simply forget about. unknowingly, mark begins to speed a little, his turns become a little tighter, and when the traffic light signals red, the nose of his car is pulled daringly close to the car in front.

mark parallel parks shoddily in front of the archeology department building four minutes earlier than google maps had estimated. his best friend looks over at him expectantly and that in itself is enough to squeeze the reluctant words right out of him. "fine, i'll think about it."

haechan's face lights with a satisfied glow as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, making his way out of the car as quickly as he can. and just before mark can think to wish him good luck on his last exam of the spring semester, haechan blurts out the one crucial detail he had neglected to bring up until now.

"thank god, because i already told her you said yes."

「 DAY 01, 07:48 AM 」 — ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD

the trunk of his beloved subaru crosstrek slams shut from behind. mark winces. the car door of the passenger seat slams shut shortly after. mark winces once again, but doesn't venture to comment on it. instead, he comments on something else entirely. "so why am i picking you up from the hospital?"

you roll your eyes, traces of hostility already to be found in your expression. "as if that's any of your business." you position the tote bag you brought up front by your feet and the contents inside clank against one another. mark gives you a questioning look, thus questioning, "what’s in there? rocks?"

instead of answering with what he would assume to be the same thing you said prior, you simply huff and lean back into the seat to fasten your seat belt. mark does the same, then hastens to shift the gears from park to drive. "you ready?"

lips set into a firm line, you're staring straight ahead when you say, "ready to get this over with." mark takes that as his cue to start the forty-two hour drive across the country, past barren lands and hilly roads, trading the smog of new york for the smog of los angeles.

the drive begins with a screeching hour of silence, all of which you’ve spent scrolling on your phone. and when you finally look up from your screen, the city view outside has already mellowed into sprawling countryside. mark takes this new development as a window of opportunity to spark up conversation, although you beat him to it nonetheless. “how many stops are we taking?”

he clears his throat for fear of a cracking voice and gathers his scattered thoughts to form a response. “about two or three times a day.”

“and how many days are we gonna be on the road?”

“three to four. i’m thinking we should take a few overnight stops as well. and also,” there’s a break in his sentence where he stops to scrunch his nose, “i might want to stop at random points to shoot some pictures. is that fine with you?”

you take your eyes off the road momentarily to get a good look at mark. he has a hand on the wheel and the other propped up by the window adjacent, eyes held forward all the while. looking back ahead yourself, you give in with a slight hitch of indignation in your otherwise colorless voice. “sure, why not.”

mark refers back to a time where the silent air between the two of you would sit comfortably and thinks of how he might have brought about conversation back then. he tries, as he might, to do the same with this scenario, catching the moment before the prolonged silence warrants it too late. “so what’s your business in LA?”

surprisingly, he spots less bite in your tone the more you speak. “my sister asked me to be maid of honor at her wedding next week.” mark’s automatic response comes out first as a laconic, “oh nice” but he follows up quickly after with an inquiring, “is it...is it still jaehyun? or is that a thing of the past?”

“it’s still him. they’ve been engaged for a while, remember?”

mark nods in agreement. he even remembers that exact phone call you received from your sister on the day your freshman year finals ended. sat across the couch, he can even recall the way you tried to motion the whole conversation with your hands to him while on the phone with her, your excitement on full display when you later hugged him tight since he was the only other person in the room.

he bites down on his bottom lip at the thought of the memory that’s still fresh in his mind. time seemed to pass more quickly for him now that it wasn’t divided into semesters and school years. taking a glance over at you, mark can’t help but think that while college life turned out to be unsuitable for him, it had done wonders for you in just the past year.

with little to no trace of the temper you initially harbored, your voice is about as neutral as it gets when you take your turn in questioning him. “what about you? what are you doing in LA?”

his answer is simple, really. his plan originally focused more on capturing the sights along the way to LA rather than the city itself. but seeing as how you’d expressed wanting to make the trip as curt and necessary as possible, he acquiesced for the lesser truth. “i’m just planning on taking some pictures and meeting some friends there. it’s a change of scenery too, i guess.”

the prospect of conversation eased in difficulty the more it steered in the direction of friendly small talk and catching up with one another. his career and his career-related decisions were always somewhat of a prickly topic, after all. his parents scorned him for it, calling it “easy money” that would just as easily come and go. his friends always said he just got lucky in the industry. and his old professors had shook their heads when he told them about his plans to drop out.

to mark, you were the only one who had ever cared to really understand his relationship with the passion that was now his life’s work. and because of that, his answer comes most naturally when you ask him, “what’s still keeping you in new york, though? i mean, you’re not there for school anymore and you’re not exactly a street photographer either.”

and without a thought to spare, mark blurts out, “you.”

what a perfect way to kill a perfectly fine conversation, he thinks in the midst of the grand silence that follows. red creeps its way up from his next to his ears until he’s flushed clean with embarrassment and terrible terrible regret, the only consolation being that your eyes seemed to be glued up ahead and not at him.

although it seems you’ve since dropped the conversation — seeing as how you’ve checked your phone five times in the last five minutes — you still make it your job to clear the air for any future attempts at conversing. after all, you’re going to be stuck with him for the entirety of the next three days. and that’s at the very least.

“mark, i don’t even want to know what you meant by that, but can we just keep our distance as…” you pause when you realize there really isn’t an appropriate label to describe your relationship with him. what do you call someone that you know really well, but aren’t on talking terms with, and have a long history of romantic instances with?

at the three-second mark in your hesitation, he lends a hopeful suggestion, “as friends?” and it’s another three unsure seconds spent on your end — unease on his — until you finally give in with a sigh and a small, albeit resolute nod. “as friends.”

he’s going at almost a hundred miles per hour on the empty road when you noticeably look over at him in time to catch the quirk of his lips, before he reassesses with a nod of his own in confirmation. with the first of (what you’re sure will be) many awkward exchanges passed, you reach a hand into the backseat to draw forth a thin blanket. “alright, i’m going to continue sleeping then.”

“mhmm,” he hums, watching in the corner of his eye as you lower the seat back. the position you assume, curling into the blanket, is as familiar as it gets and mark is reminded of countless road trip memories that he has never bothered to unearth. he sighs. “go ahead, we got all the time in the world.”

and after making sure you’ve fallen fast asleep with your slowed breathing and occasional snores, mark slows the car to a cruising 70 miles per hour.

「 DAY 01, 10:33 AM 」 — MORE THAN I THOUGHT

“keep right to stay on the i-81 south.” you slit an eye open, wide enough to see that the road ahead is blanketed in a gleaming white. the sun must’ve parted from the clouds. you close your eye in an attempt to fall back asleep. but just before you do, the automated voice from mark’s phone perks up again. “keep right to stay on the i-81 south.”

annoyed and disgruntled, you shrug the blanket off of you and, this time, crack both eyes open. sitting up in your reclined seat, you rub at your eyes and realize two things. one, the car is no longer moving. and two, you’re in the car alone. suddenly alert, you jab your finger into the ‘cancel’ button on his phone just as it continues its mantra of “keep right to sta—” and grab your own phone as you make your way out of the car.

the car itself is parked haphazardly in front of what is labelled to be a colon and rectal surgery building, with half the whole vehicle outside of the designated lines. but just as you begin to question mark’s motives, you turn to see a vast expanse of water on the opposite side. there’s small islands and clumps of trees jutting out and just across you can see a rise of buildings in the distance.

approaching the road that separates you and the riverbank, you bring a hand to shield your eyes from the light of the sun which you have yet to adjust to. and sure enough, through the blinding haze you make out a figure on the other side of the road, unruly black hair scuffed by the wind with a giant camera held at his hip. his other hand is held in the same shielding stance as you, and even his posture alone is enough to tell you that it’s mark.

both hands now cupping your mouth, you yell out a resounding, “mark!” just as a truck whizzes by but when the body of it passes, the man is revealed to be looking back at you with a silly smile plastered across his face. he holds the heavy film camera with both hands now, as he rushes up the slight grassy incline and jaywalks casually across the street.

you’re about to scold him for not even looking out for any incoming cars but up close, he only grins harder. mark is less than five feet away when he thinks to enlighten you, his beaming smile quickly growing sheepish, “google maps told me to keep right but i stayed on the right for so long, i ended up exiting the highway altogether.” his free arm gestures outwards in exclamation while he beams, “but look where we ended up!”

the sincerity of his bright eyes and bright smile puts a dampener on the tension, so much so that you even venture to joke, “the upmc pinnacle colon and rectal surgery center?” whilst pointing back to the sign. “you’ve no idea how confused i was when i woke up.”

“sorry about that. we’re in harrisburg now. so i’m guessing this is the susquehanna river.”

you shoot him a surprised look, “nice. almost halfway through pennsylvania.”

he ducks his head, a small smile adorning his nod in agreement, “yeah almost.” mark likes this new development of mood you seem to be in. chipper? not exactly. but much more pleasant than before? absolutely. he knows from personal experience that it’s the sleep. good sleep and good food do that to you. and thus he suggests, “should we get a quick brunch before getting back on the road?”

your eyes ignite a glow — rival to his — at the sound of brunch, though you have enough patience to consider, “did you get all the pictures you wanted already?”

mark nods once again, even though he isn’t even through a fourth of his first roll of film. he figures he’ll have plenty more opportunities to use it up down the line. plus, he likes the little smile on your face way too much to be the one to deny you what you want. and so he rushes to get his equipment back in their travel straps and he clambers back into the driver’s seat, all to careen his way about four blocks down to the mcdonald’s (but only after you’d shaken your head whilst he was pulling up at the wendy’s).

he orders drive through and you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns to ask, “same as usual?” and though you’re sure your usual order has changed at least once or twice in just the last year, you nod anyways. mark pays at the till and you’re handed a sausage burrito with large fries. as you’d supposed, it’s not your most up-to-date order but at this point, almost anything will get your mouth watering.

at your first bite, you sneak a glance over at mark. his head is bowed over the egg mcmuffin in his lap, hands clasped lightly together as he says grace. looking away, you give an unprompted chuckle under your breath in remembrance of his faith, new memories ringing up old habits in the back of your mind.

the next time you place a glance towards him, there’s crumbs littering the lap of his jeans and sauce smothered around the curves of his mouth. and when he looks over at you, an eyebrow raised in question at the sudden onset of attention you’re giving, you pay little mind to the fact that you have to stifle yet another chuckle in exchange for simply tossing a napkin his way.

sitting here in the passenger seat of his car, you can’t help but think that there must be something inherently wrong about spending time with an ex. especially when the two of you parted on terms that seemed somewhat insignificant, though only at the surface of things.

for the most part, mark was a good boyfriend. and the mark that sat to your left doesn’t seem any different than the mark you knew back then. maybe he got around to shaving his stubble a little closer and cleaning up his car a bit more often, but he wears the same carhartt jeans, eats as clumsily as he always had, and still drives his car as if he had extra lives to spare.

from his nose scrunches to his dutiful faith, the mark you’re sat next to now is undeniably the same mark you fell in love with what seems like ages ago.

and as he backs out of the parking space, almost reversing straight into the car opposite, you catch the uttered “shit” that falls so casually from his lips. the same lips that you could never get enough of against yours. the song that’s blaring from the speakers is a favorite of his, you know that best, and it has him humming lightly with the same voice that once serenaded you to sleep. his fingers drum incessantly on the steering wheel as he waits for a red light to turn green, the same fingers that once struggled, but succeeded against all odds, in learning how to braid your hair.

you swallow thickly and think of how unfair this has come to be. it feels impossible to have to sit with the fact that you revoked his license as your boyfriend, but now have to regard him as just a friend. it’s the same as holding someone you once held close at arm’s distance. and it’s like trying to purposefully forget the name of your favorite show, or your beloved dog, or even your own name.

all of a sudden, you feel like you’ve been caught in a fervid windstorm so strong that it threatens to uproot whatever reasonings had kept you grounded, amplifying whatever feelings lingered in his wake. except, the only thing you have left to hold onto is the realization that although the mark in the driver’s seat is the same mark you fell in love with way back when, he’s also the same mark that broke your heart without even a single word said.

「 DAY 02, 01:17 AM 」 — MARK LEE SMOKING?? (100% CLICKBAIT)

a bout of carsickness hits you at seven in the evening, right after sitting in at a roadside diner that served mashed potatoes that were suspiciously tinted green. but even after he pulled over so you could throw up on the side of the road, you’d implored mark to keep on driving until the two of you were at least at the outskirts of illinois. and that had happened on three separate occasions.

reluctantly, he’d kept his promise and poorly parked his car in front of relax inn, the closest and cheapest place that google maps could turn up. located in marshall, illinois with a striking two-star rating, it had everything you needed: free parking, shitty wifi, and even complimentary breakfast. or, it had everything you needed except two separate and unoccupied rooms.

you had been surprised, at first, when the man at the front counter had only charged mark $58. but that was after he had conveniently left out that the amazing deal was actually for only one room, not two. sighing, you drop your bag to the ground in resignation at the sight of the single queen-sized bed. despite the stiff sheets and musty smell, it still stands to look inviting after ten hours, give or take, of almost nonstop driving.

with only two stops taken for restroom breaks or gas fill-ups, you figure that either one of you has reason enough to claim the bed. there is a thought of mentioning how the two of you had slept side by side with no sexual implications many times before but it’s fleeting, dismissed, and gone within seconds.

instead, you begin drafting your argument, pulling out the persuasive points of your monologue about why you were more deserving of the bed. sure, he’d driven the car the whole while, his eyes must be strained and his ability to concentrate and energy have probably been rendered null. you, on the other hand, could pull the motion sickness, weak composition, nauseated passenger princess card. yeah, surely that’d do the trick.

your opening lines are right at the tip of your tongue, ready to win over a hefty opponent, when you turn to see that mark has already situated his belongings on the ground by the couch. wary of how you’d been standing there for a good two minutes completely unmoved, he looks your way and very plainly comments, “you take the bed. i’m fine with the couch.”

and suddenly you feel very supremely guilty for having even thought of going into a full-blown verbal altercation for a slightly more comfortable place to rest. you now think about thus commencing a full-blown verbal altercation over the slightly less comfortable place to rest, if not to ease your guilty conscience, then just out of politeness. but you digress because after all, mark is way too nice and you’re way too in need of a good night’s sleep. even if it’s just slightly better.

laying in bed, scrolling on your phone, you recall that this is how it’s always been with mark. that at one point, you became too tired of always trying to be the nicer person out of politeness when mark had the kind of genuineness you’d find in about one of a million persons. sometimes, a simple exchange of things like who should get the bed could blow itself out of proportion without either of you meaning for it to have gone that far. you came to the conclusion long ago that fights about who was the nicer person weren’t necessarily fights on character, but rather just fights like any other. and choosing to let mark carry through with his niceness — accepting the last french fry, taking his jacket when it was chilly, and now letting him have the couch — didn’t mean you were inconsiderate. in a way, it was a compromise of its own to allow him the opportunity to be of service to you.

you think of showering the following morning for it seems unlikely that you’d depart the comfort and looming sleep the bed provides. squirming around, you tuck yourself under the blankets but before you could fully relinquish your body to the confines of sleep, a soft rustling by the edge of the bed coaxes your eyes to open a sliver.

mark’s squatting so that you’re right at eye level with him. his hair is mussed more than the wind had done and wet at the tips, sticking up in several places that seem to defy the laws of gravity. with an elbow set on the bed, he peers at you over the screen of his phone, eyes wide and set in the frame of his black-rimmed glasses. he doesn’t whisper though his voice comes out so low, you wouldn’t be able to tell much of a difference anyways. “sorry, i know you’re tryna sleep. just wanted to ask when you’d want to wake up tomorrow.”

repositioning to face him, you smush the side of your cheek into the pillow and the unease in mark’s face ebbs away. half alseep and a good amount dehydrated, your throat is scratchy when you pass it back to him, “what do you think?”

mark scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, “i, uh well… maybe six...?” and he traces your eyes as they find the clock on the nightstand. it reads 2:02 AM and he seems to share the same thought as you. “...thirty? six-thirty?”

you close your eyes, already losing your grasp on what he just said as you mumble out the last of your thoughts, “okay, we’ll grab breakfast downstairs and leave at seven?”

whatever he responds with goes in one ear and out the other. and it isn’t until he wakes you up, bright and early at 6:20 AM, that you remember the conversation even happened. in reality, you roll around in bed, trying to find another sweet spot that will lull you back into sleep, for about ten whole minutes. by the time you’ve given up, gotten out of bed, and begun collecting your garments for the shower, it’s 6:30 on the dot. it doesn’t even register in your mind that mark had accounted for your scheduled morning bout of grogginess until you’re out of the shower with a clearer head.

you sit across from him at breakfast and he passes the black pepper when you spoon your scrambled eggs. he offers to go refill your orange juice at one point and at another he apologizes adamantly for accidentally nudging your foot under the table. it’s only after he takes your empty plate with his back to the clean-up counter that you really bother to take a good look at him.

he must’ve skipped his morning shave, for his stubble is visible though not much more than a mere shadow. there’s a silver chain at his neck, one with a dangling cross pendant, and it sits prettily atop his plain black pocket tee. mark leads the way towards the front desk to check out. you notice the way he swirls the both the room key and car key around his fingers, his straight posture when he walks depite the heavy backpack mounted on him, and even the worn-in outline of his wallet from the rear pocket of his jeans.

and when he mistakens the pristinely cleaned glass door for a wide opening, resulting in a blooming red splotch on his forehead, you take the time to consider his big endearing head, and his big boyish eyes, and his big sloppy smile. you laugh along with him, but perhaps for more of a different reason. mark may have a big head, but at least it’s filled with good and godly things.

seconds later in the parking lot and you think to rescind those same regards. mark may be nice but there’s no way you’ll be the one to compromise on this one.

you’re fully in the seat and ready to get the car going, except mark is standing right where the door should be closing with his arms crossed and a foot hiked up on the frame of the car. his stance is a plain show of defiance, as are his firmly-stated comments. “i’m not letting you drive. you were vomiting everywhere just last night.”

“give me the keys, i need my redemption arc to happen right now.”

mark only tilts his head in disapproval, eyes boasting a look that emanates something along the lines of ‘are you kidding me?’ you press your lips thin in consideration, realizing that this has turned out to be harder than you’d bargained for. eyeing the keys hanging loosely from his left hand, you decide that your efforts were going to amount to nothing if not by way of force.

when you lunge for the keys, mark takes that you’re attacking him or something of the sort, throwing his hands out in front to block. in the three seconds the debacle had taken to unfold, the sharp end of the car key had scraped the length of your inner arm, nicking your skin clean apart. much to your chagrin and his relief, you end up in the passenger seat anyways.

mark wipes diligently at the long cut with an alcohol pad, whilst you use your unpunctured arm to search for where he’d claimed the first aid kit with the bandaids would be. you look away from the glove box to find his unimpressed disposition, and you hold the gaze until he meets it. but he only meets it for a split second before ducking his head back down to the red-stained alcohol pad, muttering low but loud enough for you to catch. “god you’re a mess, y/n.”

you return your attention to your search for bandaids, eyes rolling far into the back of your head. “i already admitted defeat. do you have to rub it in?” to which he responds with but a fleeting laugh. and by the time he can come up with a, “there we go, all clean,” you’ve conjured four bandaids for him to top it all off.

as mark busies himself with finding the most appropriate arrangement that would cover the length of the cut, you shove the first aid kit back to where you’d retrieved it in the far corner of the glove box. it’s then that the streak of red that was presumably tucked behind it catches your eye.

by the time mark returns from discarding the wipes and bandage packaging, it’s already too late for him to stop what’s to come. the red box — at first glance, what looks to be a sizable pack of cigarettes — had already found its way into your unsuspecting hands.

「 DAY 02, 07:09 AM 」 — BROCKHAMPTON SATURATION II, TRACK #16

when haechan first introduced his sophomore photography major best friend to you back in freshman year of college, he had described him as the guy with no emotional depth. and you had shaken his outstretched hand anyways, awkwardly laughing along even though you had no idea that it was an inside joke between the two of them.

you laughed again on christmas day, same year, same joke. however, you still had yet to figure out what it meant when haechan had gifted your new boyfriend the card game, cased in a brilliant red box. he had said something along the lines of “maybe this’ll get him to dig deeper” and your group of friends, most of whom had known mark since high school, seemed to find it funny and fitting.

the game itself, you knew; it was a popular drinking game among your college friends. you had played it several times yourself at more intimate gatherings, the reflective conversational prompts amounting to several instances of sob fests, tissue shortages, and long hugs. it was good for heartfelt conversations, and apparently mark wasn’t one for feelings. put two and two together and that made enough sense for you to laugh along and move on without much thought.

but well over two, almost three, years later, you wonder why it’d been shoved into the back of his glove box, the plastic wrap still intact and pristine. it’s as if mark had quite literally buried his feelings into the depths of this car, subsequently forgotten and later dug up by his girlfriend turned ex. life’s a funny thing, because only now as his ex-girlfriend do you understand what the gag gift meant in the first place.

looking out upon the barren gas station, you feel restless standing in the face of ten — bordering eleven — hours of driving beside mark of all people. but when he slips into the seat beside you, freshly washed hands wiping themselves down the length of his jeans, you begin to think of a better, or at least more interesting, way to pass the time. holding the box of cards out for him to see, your bouncing leg finally comes to a still as you suggest, “wanna play?”

mark regards the box with a joking manner, and while his casual, “yeah, why not” might prove his act of nonchalance convincing, you like to think you know him better than to look past the way his eyes had lingered, or the hesitance set in his brows, or even the readjusting of his position. he starts up the engine and moves the gear out of park as you fumble with the plastic wrapping. a small tear later and you’re peeling back the packaging, throwing small glances at mark’s way whilst he throws unsure glances at the box of cards.

two minutes back on the i-70 west, you’ve shuffled the cards until your fingers began to feel sliced through, and only then did you deem it time to begin. fanning the deck out to your left, you gesture for mark to select his first pick. he shakes his head and wordlessly gestures back at you to make the first move, a lick of his lips giving his uncertainty away.

shoving the rest of the deck into one of the cup holders on the middle console, you read along as your other hand sets forth in finding your phone. “wildcard. press shuffle on your music library. explain the first song that comes up!”

phone in hand, you look over at mark inquiringly, “me or you?” and if you had to guess his next words, there’d be no doubt that it’d be a stiff and uttered, “you.” almost taking glee in his squirmishness, you pull up spotify on your phone and click into your mess of a “liked songs” playlist. mark passes you the carplay cord and you plug it in, pressing the shuffle button apprehensively after the beep indicates it’s been connected.

heavy piano chords pan out from the speakers and a smile is slow to spread across your face as you come to a realization of what song it is. for better or for worse, mark seems to know as well, retracting his gaze from the road for less than a second to meet your eyes. there’s a sort of ‘ahh’ in them, an understanding, an underlying fondness.

in the heat of the summer…

“do i really have to explain?”

you know that you should be my boy.

“give it a go at least.”

in the heat of the summer…

“well…”

you’re so different from the rest.

you find yourself at a loss for words. amongst many other things that arise in this moment, your train of thought does its best to rationalize. why was this song still in the playlist? simple, you forgot to take it out. it’s only normal that things get buried with time. why can’t you just say that to him, then? simple, because then it’d be so easy for him to brush it off as a lame excuse, a cover-up, as to how plainly you still held onto your relationship. what the fuck are you feeling? panic. doubt. frustration. longing.

panic at the thought that he would read into it too much. doubt at the thought that there were other reasons for why you’d let this song gather dust in your playlist. frustration at the thought that there was only you to blame for this situation that you’d gotten yourself into. and longing. longing that had sat untouched for the same amount of time you’d decided to shove your feelings away instead of confronting them. longing that had since settled into your flesh and bones, going unnoticed. longing that, at the first chords of this song, had you casting your eyes downwards from the road ahead.

hastily, you grab for your water bottle, taking steady but large gulps. suddenly, your throat had become too dry. swallowing thickly, you wonder why the lump in your throat refuses to fall back. your breathing becomes noticeably haggard while the thing lodged in your throat remains. at the slightest indication of mark’s head turning your way, you snap your own in the direction of the window to avoid his questioning gaze.

biting down on your lip, your eyes fall closed even with the sprawling hills unfurling just outside. the sun is climbing to its height, as is your sudden onslaught of emotions that drowns out all noise except the sound of mark humming along to the song. you are numb, you are deaf, you are void of everything except his voice.

“do you remember?”

reverberating through you, it’s all you are able to feel.

“do you remember last summer at the lake?”

mind emptied, it’s all you know.

“it’s one of my favorite days, i’ll have you know.”

body capsized, it floods you. and it fills you to the brim until you can’t take it anymore.

“isn’t it funny that all my favorite days have been spent with you?”

and when it overflows, it comes in the form of tears.

your vision blurs and the wetness on your cheeks is quickly pulled into a pool at the edge of the seat. closing your eyes is a daunting task, even then, because you know just what you’ll see. you make the mistake of trying to blink away the tears, making them fall far faster than they had before. but for what it’s worth, it had been a favorite day of yours as well, albeit bittersweet.

the water was emerald green and the grass was knee-high. the sun rested overhead for almost fourteen hours a day and you had a tan comparable to that of a professional-grade spray. the wind was light though unrelenting, apparent in the way the clothes strewn across the clothesline were at the cusp of being carried away. everything under the sun was warm to the touch. the rocks, the grass, the water, his skin.

you snap your eyes open and only then do you notice that the car has come to a stop, pulled over to the side of the road. your hand is pressing into your forehead and the tears are still running free when you care to peer over in mark’s direction. both hands resting on the wheel, his eyes emanate in concern, lips pulled tight as if an apology was attempting to push past from within. it’s hard to pinpoint your finger directly to it, but there’s something about his expression that ticks you off so greatly that you regard him for less than a second before slipping out of the car.

the first inhale of fresh air makes the stuffiness inside the car feel like you had been breathing in water. the wind, just as it had been that day, is light though unrelenting, and it dries clean the tears in your eyes. your body sags and you give your weight into the side rails of the road, sitting against it and heaving thorough breaths to bring you some peace of mind. if you stared at your surroundings for long enough, the short grasses growing beside the road would grow long and the valleys in between the hills would carve out an emerald lake. the warmth would find its way back to you, but it’s far from pleasant and rather close to burning, scorching even. you fist and unfist your hands, recoiling from even the thought of it.

instead, you focus on the way the roughened wood of the rail nips at your skin through the thin spandex of your shorts. when you shift your position, the metal that accompanies it is hot to the touch and the uneven pavement beneath you is riddled with its fair share of pebbles and wood chips alike. taking your time, you come to pay more mind to your breathing, allowing the intakes to fill up your belly rather than your chest. the sky is a clear blue, the single cloud is pear-shaped, you can count up to seven peaks in the hills, and there are four dirt patches within your line of vision. it’s these little things that ground you.

seven minutes past. you hear a car door open you but you never hear it close. footsteps stop maybe three feet from your left but they never step any closer. he says, “whenever you’re ready,” but he never says anything more.

and perhaps that’s what hurts the most.

「 DAY 02, 01:56 PM 」 — LITTLE CRAZY LOVE SONG, MARY OLIVER 2014

“what’d you say?”

“nothing much, really—”

“well, you obviously said something if she’s voluntarily passed out for the last six hours.”

static crinkles on the other end and mark looks around at the endless stretch of trees surrounding the lone gas station. the signal is clearly not having its best moment here in the thick of the forest, but he rejoins anyways.

“i brought up last summer…” he trails off, hoping that just the season would provide enough context to tell of the situation without him explicitly having to name it as terrible, godawful, and no good whatsover. to be frank, mark wasn’t expecting understanding and empathy when he dialed haechan’s number. hell, he wasn’t even expecting to receive encouragement and good faith. perhaps all he wanted was recognition for the bad deed he’d committed and someone for him to bicker out his frustration with. and surely, haechan delivers just that.

“mark, you whole-hearted idiot. wh—”

“okay but in my defense, i thought we were having a momen—”

“i think only you were having a mo—”

“it just slipped out, i swear it wasn’t on purpo—”

“how the fuck did you think she’d react to your sappy bullshi—”

“—but it’s all cool now.”

the other end goes flat after mark’s statement and he thinks it’s owed to the faulty service, until haechan sputters in disbelief, breaking the quiet at an ear-splitting decible, “cool? you call that cool?!” mark furrows his brow at his friend’s overuse of emphasis whilst he busies himself with retrieving his credit card one-handedly. he knows that somewhere along the line, he fucked up. and he thinks he knows exactly where but at the same time, mark isn’t quite in the headspace to own up to it. so he retaliates.

“it’s like you set me up for failure.”

haechan justifies, “hey, it’s not like i did anything wrong. a friend needed a ride and i found someone who could give her just that.” but mark can hear the sarcasm in his voice and he decides he would rather confront his friend than question his ex. “i highly doubt she’d be down for a forty-two hour drive over a six-hour flight. what the fuck did you even say to convince her?”

the younger doesn’t waver when put in the spotlight. in fact, he gives it away as if it’s all just a fun prank on his end. and that’s not to say that isn’t at least partially the truth.

“i told her you already agreed to take her, same thing i said to you.”

smart as ever, he hangs up before mark’s initial surprise gets translated into brute annoyance. the silence after the disconnect tone hits him almost immediately and thus, he finds himself standing in the middle of an empty gas station, in the middle of the eerily quiet city of winona, missouri, which is sat at the edge of a brimming forest where nothing but trees run on for miles and miles on end. there’s a town & county supermarket in the same plaza and a rundown dollar general down the street he’d passed to get here.

it suddenly feels as if he’s the only person alive in this whole wide world, trapped inside his four-walled mind with no one to talk to except his regretful self. more than confronting his friends or even you, mark has known for a long time that he feels the most social anxiety whenever he’s left to confront himself. he tries to shake the thought, pocketing his wallet as he makes a beeline for the supermarket across the desolate parking lot. it’s far on foot and with each step, he descends down into the depths of despair, digging up all the times he must’ve made you uncomfortable with just his presence. for once, he doesn’t think it’s such a wonderful thing to be alone in the world with the person he loves most.

seven hours of almost straight driving is bound to make a person go at least a little insane, as mark wonders if he even remembers the last time he saw anyone other than you. he grabs a bag of popcorn, a charcuterie box, and a gallon of water at the supermarket and only at the cash register, manned by a live and tangible human, is he freed from the confines of his tortured mind.

gas filled to the max and provisions restocked, he’s once again met with the struggle of having to close the car door as quietly and undistrubingly as humanly possible. you’re still very much asleep and the last thing he wants is to jolt you awake when your latest memory of him is how he’d insensitively instigated a panic attack at barely seven in the morning, albeit unintentionally.

after he closes the door with exemplary caution and barely a thud, mark lowers his guard with a sigh in relief in tow. though in this fleeting moment of mindlessness, the very next moment he’s dropped his keys on the center console. wincing, he watches as the clattering elicits a stir on your end, fluttering eyelids, and then — to his utter horror and dismay — you wake up.

mark plays it cool, or so he thinks, by letting out a low “oh shit” to make sure you know of his accidental mistake. rubbing your eyes, the first glance you place his way isn’t strictly a glare, but it might as well be with how you barely acknowledge his stilled presence. mark waits until you’ve had a couple sips of water in your system and a full routine of arm stretches before speaking up carefully. “how’d you sleep?”

you look his way and tiredly blink a few times before saying, “fine.”

back at square one, he thinks. mark hands you the bag of popcorn and charcuterie box and reaches over to drop the giant water jug into the back seats. you eye the bag and the box confusedly, then the blanket draped across your knees that you’re sure wasn’t there when you fell asleep, and then finally your surroundings.

“what time is it?”

“about 2:20.”

“where are we?”

“missouri. just outside the mark twain national forest.”

you eye the landscape beyond the windows where you’re met with the parking lot, a few commercial structures, and a shitload of trees. you turn back towards mark, “are we on schedule?”

he nods. “we’re actually ahead of schedule. we were supposed to be just out of illinois right now.”

you give him a tight-lipped smile that does little to ease the tension. removing the blanket, you make a move for the door and mark thinks that this must be it. you’ve had enough of him, you’re tired of tolerating his presence, and you’ve set your mind on walking the rest of the way to los angeles. it’s a rather immature thought but he entertains it for a split second regardless. the second half of the second is spent coming up with a hastened, “wait.”

you’re halfway out the door when you look back over your shoulder, a left eyebrow cocked in question. mark doesn’t have anything on hand to say, so he blurts out whatever question he had first in queue, “why… why did you agree to come?”

fully out of the car, you stand facing him with one hand resting on the car door and the other situated on your hip. in your freshly awakened state, you cock your head at the absurdity of his unprompted question. there’s a trace of thought pooling in your eyes before you answer rather nonchalantly, “i wanted to see how you’ve been.” the words hang in the air, waiting for mark to process them, and when he does it’s as if he’s had the wind knocked out of him. breathily, he recites a quiet, “oh i see,” and then you shut the door square in his face, leaving him with only an equally quiet, “i need to use the restroom, be right back.”

mark thinks back to why he himself had agreed in the first place and he’s not sure how much of a role haechan’s little ruse had played anyways. he appreciates the honesty with which you answered because it gives him the space to be honest with himself as well. he’d agreed to go because a part of him wanted to see how you’d been doing as well, but he’d also agreed to go because a part of him simply just wanted to see you. the little stunt that haechan had pulled was just the tip of the iceberg of reasons that led to this whole ordeal, and mark thinks — or at least hopes — that that had been the case for you too.

when you return, freshened up and looking more lively than you had in hours, mark’s more prepared than the last time he’d thrown a haphazard question your way. you’re fastening your seat belt when he asks, “since we’re ahead of schedule, do you wanna go for a drive around the forest?”

he sees where it starts, slow in the upturn. what looks like the beginnings of a frown blooms into an easy smile. it doesn’t reach your eyes, but it doesn’t need to for mark to know that you mean it. “around?”

he smiles too, quick with a flash of teeth and a breathy chuckle. “in, i mean. in the forest.”

you let your head retract to facing frontwards, leaning back into your seat as you nod, “sure, let’s go.” folding the maroon blanket into your lap, you follow mark’s pointed finger until your eyes set on his backpack shoved under your seat. “there should be a map in there. can you be my guide?”

for a second, he thinks he’s being too greedy with your patience but your easy smile flattens to show complacency. “i can do that,” and you salvage the map from the front pocket of the mess of his backpack. seeing about an inch-thick stack of maps in the same compartment, you look towards him with your smile now edging towards a knowing tease. “you planned for this, didn’t you?”

mark shakes his head fervently though he can’t find it in himself to audibly deny. after all, number two on his bucket list is to visit all the national parks and forests the country has to offer. how could you have expected him to resist when passing by a city that sat directly under 1.5 acres of forest land? and with the extra time to spare, it was a given.

you have the map crinkled open on your lap as you load up the top destinations with your phone in hand. mark’s excitement seems to be rubbing off on you; his giddy smile lends into your glittering eyes, his drumming fingers on the steering wheel translating to your bouncy leg. twenty-four minutes north — one right turn and one left turn — later, you’ve successfully navigated the both of you to alley spring and mill, a three-story red statement with a clear turquoise spring tucked behind.

the summer heat licks at the nape of your neck when you first open the door. you grab the blanket, the charcuterie box, the bag of popcorn and — with a thought spared in consideration — the stack of cards shoved into the cupholder after tucking your phone into the waistline of your shorts. the rush of water grows louder as you approach, the uneven pavement ebbing off into scuffed dirt and then brustling grass further down the stretch. pausing a good distance away from the decades-old structure, you hear a sigh in wonderment coming from behind.

mark’s mamiya rz67 weighs down one hand, the other raised to his brow to deflect the glare of the sun. he has a sort of satisfied look to his face, one that only grows as he makes his way to catch up to you. “good find,” he comments, tearing his gaze away from the sights to meet your eyes. pride snuggles into the corners of your smile and you duck away from his stare.

“lemme go find somewhere for us to settle down for a bit,” you hold up the blanket in gesture and then wave him off with another smile, “you go do your thing, don’t mind me.”

there’s a few people here and there coming in and out of the mill and a few more along the skirts of the spring, but you manage to find a quiet spot along the water with some trees to offer a decent amount of shade. it’s much cooler down here, where the spray disperses itself fresh from the water and into the air, and you drape the blanket over the mildly damp grass. spreading the contents of the charcuterie box across a napkin and pouring a portion of the popcorn into the now empty box, the setting begins to look as if it were all planned and not, in fact, an impromptu day trip that fell in motion less than a half-hour ago.

slipping your shoes off, you ease into the spot, appreciating the clear air while you can. if you shield your eyes, you can see mark in the distance with his phone held up to the red building to check the light settings. he takes a shot there in that position, and you swear you can hear the ka-shink! of his shutter even from this far away. nibbling a corner of brie cheese, you watch him closely as he jogs in a zig zag across the plot to find another interesting shot to frame.

mark gets six or seven more in before he rounds upon where you’re sat, having finally found the alcove of shade you’d claimed. he’s still holding his camera with one hand, the size of his palm making the five pound camera seem small. in the back of your mind, you can still recall the weight of it from a year ago as mark demonstrated how to advance the film for your first try at a shot. you remember how difficult it was to get the hang of medium format photography, much less the bothersome large format that mark used to haul around wherever he went.

“may i join you?”

snapped out of your momentary reminiscence, you glance up at mark as if you hadn’t even seen him coming your way. at the nod of your head, he takes his spot across the blanket with his legs criss crossed. the seconds tick away while your eyes trace the lines of his hands, moving familiarly to load a new film stock into his camera. the delicacy of his movements, the steadfastness of his grip, the roughness of his knuckles, and the baby soft pads of his fingers.

there’s nothing to do with his hands when he’s done with his camera so he resorts to fiddling with the folds of the blanket and occasionally reaching for a grape. mark looks a little lost, if you are to be honest. or at least, it seems as if he’s unsure of his presence; too scared of breaching boundaries thus he shies away from interactions altogether. his patterns of behavior are nothing new to you. and though there was once a time where you’d despise having to always be the one to coax him out of his shell of insecurity, you aren’t nearly so distressed to do so when there’s no strings attached, no long withheld feelings that come with it.

“when should we get back on the road?”

mark looks up at you in surprise and relief floods his face when he realizes no sign of annoyance in your expression. as if he were taking a firm hold of the hand you’d extended, he responds kindly, “it’s best if we go before five, so we can take our time on the road.”

you check your phone and the time reads a quarter past four. scrolling down your notification screen to see if you missed any important messages, you find about four consecutive texts from haechan, sent just before you woke up from the six hour stress nap you inadvertently took.

【 2:06 PM 】 bro u good? 【 2:06 PM 】 mark told me what happened 【 2:06 PM 】 should i beat him up for u? haha 【 2:08 PM 】 call me when u get a chance ;)

shutting off your phone, you retrace your attention back to mark. he’s the spitting image of a kid whose one and only friend didn’t show up to school today, hence he had to sit at his own table during lunch. you chuckle under your breath at the thought and he happens to hear, giving you a raise of his brow to which you only shake your head in dismissal.

so badly do you want to just clear the air — his newly uptight demeanor being a nightmare to get along with — but you know better than anyone how avidly mark avoids confrontation at all costs. to bring it right to his front steps is just asking for uncalled-for frustration. you zip your lips, and eye your surroundings, hoping for a topic of conversation to jump out at you.

sure enough, the red boldface catches your eye and it lingers. who says confrontation is the only way to subdue the tension? sometimes all you need is a little fun. and what’s better than a game to do just that? you place a hand atop the deck and wait for mark to recognize your intentions before softly suggesting, “your turn?”

the expression he dons is a bit squirmish as he reaches for the cards, but you can tell that he’s glad his careless words hadn’t ruined the game for you forever. his fingers make quick work in shuffling them neatly and, face down, he draws one from the pile at random.

“what do you think is the hardest part of what i do for a living?”

mark glances up at you from the card expectantly and you’re thrown off guard for a moment. “i answer? i did the last one though.”

he only laughs, “yeah i know. but even if i wanted to answer, i couldn’t. you don’t have a job.”

“oh that’s right,” you smile, masking a tinge of embarrassment at your late realization,” okay, i’ll answer it then.”

you cross your legs like his and pluck a grape for your fingers to play around with. momentarily in thought, you realize that there’s not much to the question, not when pertaining to mark and not when asked to you.

“the thing is, i’ve seen a lot firsthand. and i think you know what i’m going to say.”

it’s his turn to be thrown off guard with wide eyes and a hand to his chest, “i do?”

nodding, you pop the grape into your mouth to give leeway for your thoughts to string into words. shortly after swallowing, the words follow in suit, “i mean, you love your job and from what i remember, it pays your bills. which is great, it’s really great.” careful with your next words, you approach them with caution, “but at the same time, i think — and correct me if i’m wrong — i think...it’s put a strain on some of your relationships.”

mark doesn’t look the least bit surprised. in fact, you’re sure he’d known the answer the second after he read the question. hardly disappointed, he smiles wide when your eyes brim with uncertainty. reassuring you, “you’re right on point,” and then nudging you along, “i still want you to elaborate on it though.”

“okay,” you smile back at him, mostly in relief, “i know this is pretty personal, but since you insist…”

and so you trailed on about what you knew. on how his job drove a wedge between him and his parents. on how they told him it was one thing to chase after your dreams, and a whole other to let your dreams crush you. but to him, dropping out of college didn’t make those two semesters a waste of time and money. rather, he thought that going to college in the first place made it easier for him to realize it wasn’t the path he wanted to walk. there were always going to be times where he wouldn’t be able to make ends meet but that was nothing to him if he could have the support of his friends and family to do what he loved most.

you knew very well that a “strain” was a light way to put it. his parents cut him off at nineteen when they realized he wouldn’t be returning to school. as most parents would be, they were worried but unwilling to financially support their son who they no longer believed in. his mom still brings stacks upon stacks of tupperware kimchi and side dishes each month and his dad still passes money under the table at family dinners. but for some reason, they could never look him straight in the eye.

“do you ever feel like they betrayed you?”

“no, never,” he declares almost immediately. “it’s easy to think that they did. it’s harder to really feel that way when i know how much they love me. it’s just that we value different things.” mark says it so convincingly that you nearly dismiss the suspicions behind your question. when you meet his eyes and they are dark and glossed over, you start to believe them a lot more than what he’d just said.

seeing his pain resurface as if it were there the whole time, you’re reminded of the guilt you carry for breaking up with him at perhaps the most vulnerable point in his life. knowing that mark could never blame you for it, you blame yourself in his place.

looking down from his gaze, you hold your left hand in your right, imagining it as his, and hope that just the thought of wanting to hold his hand offers him some comfort, in some sort of cosmically significant way.

「 DAY 02, 10:34 PM 」 — TOMAYTO TOMAHTO

mark drove past the ‘welcome to oklahoma’ sign at 7:30 PM. between cherokee and muscogee nation, he considered stopping at tulsa for the night instead of oklahoma city, the capital. it was around 9:00 by then and you were still fairly energized; he took from that to continue even though it was you who slept through the day, not him.

in your search, etrip.net claimed holiday inn to be $19 for a two person room, seemingly a ‘too good to be true’ deal for a four-star hotel with an indoor pool. you booked it anyways — though only after confirming that he was fine with sharing a room — and keyed in the address into google maps for mark to follow.

when you look out the window less than a half hour to your destination, it’s near pitch black, save for the distant outlines of buildings behind large fields of what you assume to be grass. the two of you are just outside the city and when you roll down the window; the air is rather cool and crisp for a summer night. there’s a truck in front of your car with a shipment of fresh tomatoes and the scent of them wafts sweetly in the dawdling air.

basked in a comfortable silence for the first time during this whole trip, you feel that summer break has finally started. the days are long and long gone are your day-to-day worries about when this assignment is due and how much this exam will affect your grade. in hindsight, they were all passing worries, things that never irked you for long enough to be significant. and now that you had finally made peace with it all — moved on, and slowed down — the world seems much more pleasant, less frantic, and more at ease than you remembered. it’s quiet and you’re happy.

glimpsing to your left to check how mark’s holding up, the first thing you’re met with are his wide, frenzied eyes. you trace his line of sight whilst venturing to ask, “you good?” before noticing the oblong shape that’s been planted straight into the dead center of the windshield. upon further scrutiny, there’s a redish secretion that’s oozing down the glass.

“y/n...what the fuck is that?”

the two of you are stunned in your seats, frozen at the thought of what it could possibly be. (a hockey puck! a donut! a scoop of ice cream! a bloodied body part?!) though soon enough, your conscience returns in time for you to register it as a tomato, straight from the truck ahead.

“holy shit,” mark mutters, and he begins to slow the car down and away from the alleged source. a second hits, (“fuck!”), right where your head would have been if not for the window. the third and fourth follow shortly, splatters sounding more like fist-sized rocks under the sheer force of impact. mark sees you ducking and dodging, this way and that, and his blood pressure sky rockets as a huge portion of his side becomes slathered in goop.

both of you are screaming at this point, mark has no way of knowing when the road will curve, and he’s still going seventy miles per hour, occasionally speeding faster whenever a jolt of adrenaline hits too hard and he loses fine control of his foot on the gas pedal. “roll up the damn window!” and your fingers fumble around for the button, almost opening up the whole door in the process.

you swerve your head right after the window’s safetly shut to see if anyone’s tailgating. “pull over, mark. there’s no one behind us.” and when the car comes to a stop, the two of you are panting uncontrollably, despite having barely moved for hours. there are no thoughts running through your mind — absolutely none, zero — when you turn your head to meet his eyes. and the second you do, the two of you burst into laughter, in utter disbelief at what just happened.

still breathless at the thought, your hand comes to your mouth in belated shock. the aftermath is disastrous. cautiously opening the door, you can spot remnant tomato juice dripping from the bottom edge. mark rounds the car twice in inspection, only to find that every last corner of his precious subaru crosstrek is coated in a sheen of red except for the back, bottom, and some of the top. the meager stack of napkins you saved from earlier in the day does the best they can, sweeping off most the meat but none of the juice. the scent doesn’t seem so sweet anymore when it’s all you can smell from a mile away.

you notice that mark has been standing in the same position for the last four minutes, unmoved with both hands on his hips, sweat gleaning from his brow, and a distant look in his eyes. you fear speaking up will spook him into tears. luckily, he speaks first.

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

“can you find the nearest coin-op car wash on my phone?”

“okay.”

“i’ll…” he trails off into a breathy laugh, that kind of echoed laugh that makes you want to give him all your hopes and dreams, support and love. “...i’ll be here for a bit.”

you clamber back into the passenger seat, careful not to transfer any of the liquids indoors. his phone is mounted on a stand and you pry it off, wondering how you would get past his passcode. you key in his birthday, a reasonable first try, but the lockscreen doesn’t budge. pressing your lips thin, you try to recall what his password had been way back then. mark was never one for unnecessary changes; he held onto his possessions and habits stubbornly.

after an aha! moment comes a moment of doubt. to get the code right was one thing, but you weren’t sure how you’d feel if it was indeed unchanged. shrugging off the hesitation, you press in the four numbers anyways, and sure enough it unlocks.

dumbfounded, your hands drop into your lap and your vision stills, zoned out on the curve of the steering wheel. it’s hard to really understand what you’re feeling and it’s even harder to discern mark’s intentions behind keeping his passcode set as your birthday after all this time. the signs have been there—and you had kept to avoiding them—but now is the first time you’re facing the possibility that mark still has feelings for you. and even just the thought of how it doesn’t disturb you greatly warrants extra precaution on your end.

mistakes are made so that they won’t be repeated.

you repeat the sentence to yourself perhaps five times over, and carry on with locating the nearest coin-operated car wash station as per his instruction. mark got in the car five minutes later with a small smile on his face. “it is what it is,” as he had put it. with only thirty minutes left, the car ride resumes in silence though this time around, there’s nothing comfortable about it. the man next to you is humming along to some john mayer song, oblivious to your disconterting mood that was induced solely by him (and partially by you, if we’re to be crystal clear).

deciding not to get too worked over it, you fixate, instead, on playing word games with haechan. time passes quickly as you win most of the rounds, half the time wondering why he’s even still awake when it’s already fairly late in his timezone. you make a mental note to call him when you get settled at the hotel, sooner the better if anything.

mark manages to hum along to every single song that comes up on the radio, sometimes even singing with a full voice and vibrato. you’re partially relieved that he’s no longer so on edge around you, also aware that now it’s you who’s way too in over your head. figuring that it wouldn’t be much of a problem once you call it a night, you move past your concerns and finally take a glance up from your phone.

marvelling at the ever-changing landscape on the other side of the window, your mouth falls agape at how the bare grasslands have since given away to streets among streets of buildings. you can peer even further down, where the city lights of oklahoma city make out a twinkling night sky, replacing the stars with their light pollution. devon tower stands the tallest and most discernable of the skyscrapers and for a second, your troubles melt away as you fall captive to The Big Friendly.

long past rush hour, the streets downtown are jam packed with both cars and pedestrians, forcing mark to brake every other second. the city night life in oklahoma feels warmer than the busy new york city had ever been. flourescent signs flash bright in invitation for you to enter, people flood the streets, swarmed with laughter and filled with good food. you keep a smile to yourself as this tedious road trip begins to feel a little more like a long-anticipated vacation.

marks pulls up at the coin wash station you’d found for him earlier. with it being a ten minute’s distance from the city’s main streets, the surrounding areas are quiet at this slow hour. when you reach over to unbuckle your seat belt, a hand comes to stop you and with a patient smile on his face, mark simply tells you, “wait here, i’ll clean it up real quick,” as he slips out of the car.

given no time to react much less disagree, he shuts the door behind him and you end up sitting in the car by yourself, watching mark as he busies around with his coins and then gets to hosing down the red streaks striping his car. presumably, they had dried in the wind. what a sight his car must have looked like, rolling through the city streets as if it’d been dunked in ketchup.

you get the idea then, while you’re idling around, to call up haechan quickly while you have the moment to yourself. if you could be curt with him, beat around the bush like the annoying little brat you are, you’ll have no problem with wrapping up the call within the next five to ten minutes it takes for mark to get the car scrubbed and shiny.

the phone rings a whopping total of seven times before he picks up. you put him on speaker and the groggy voice you’re met with is a telltale sign that you’ve freshly awoken him. “the fuck you want? i just fell asleep, you cow.” at least he went to bed, you think, whilst turning his loud ass voice off speaker and bringing your phone to your ear.

“woah, no need to be so vulgar. you’re the one who told me to call you.”

you hear a scoff coming from the other end. at his next quip, his voice is no longer groggy, now boasting a new tone of feisty. “yeah. i meant when i’m actually awake and willing to answer. bye, i’m hanging up now.”

“hey,” you whine, “you’re awake and i’m free right now so let’s just get it over with. what did you want to talk about?”

there’s a clear pause of deliberation on his end, only for less than three seconds though. “how’s it going with mark? i heard he made you cry.”

you sigh into the receiver, fingers having found the rim of your water bottle and decidedly tracing the cap around and around. “so he told you everything, i see. he just brought up some bad memories and i got overwhelmed in the moment. it’s all cool now.”

the line goes silent for while longer and the blasting hose outside just happens to shut off at the same time. you look up from your water bottle and through the shower of water, mark’s peering in with a sponge in hand, gleeful eyes greeting you hello. you give him an absentminded wave in return with your free hand.

usually, haechan had too much to say about everything but to your surprise, he only ponders with a lilt, “...it’s all cool?”

“it’s all cool,” you confirm. mark sweeps his sponge-equipped arm across the length of the windshield, the thick lather of bubbles building a wall between you and him. but just as his fingers dot two eyes and a big smile into the soap for you to see, haechan synchronizes, “so you guys are getting along?”

mark peeks into one of the holes to see you smiling as wide as the playful smiley face he’d drawn, the same one that was now at the mercy of the drooping liquids. contradicting your ear-splitting grin, you remark offhandedly, “we agreed to be friends.” and after a beat, you fill in the missing blanks, “for the sake of this trip, i mean.”

“friends…” haechan seems to have his panties in a twist today, for he’s pausing at all the weird moments, saying all the weirdest things. you can almost imagine the shake of his head as he cryptically states, “that won’t do.”

“what won’t do?”

the hose water is turned back on as mark directs it right at the windshield this time. you almost shriek in surpise, barely catching the click of his tongue that haechan gives. after dousing the windows clean, mark reaches for the snow broom to shimmy off the remaining water droplets. going row by row, he gives you a sore attempt at a wink when you meet his eyes. you supress your giggles as haechan’s dissatisfied voice soars past your ears without much thought.

“how can you be just friends with him when you still like him?”

you’re in no mood to be taking him seriously, so you end up saying the first thing that pops into your mind. “i’m pretty sure he’s the one that still likes me.”

“well you’re not wrong there.”

mark throws in another silly face — a really blown out toothed smile — and you decide then that you should probably end the call soon before haechan drags you into another discussion of who’s still hung up on who and who’s still in love with who. you decide then that, for tonight at least, you want to set aside the messy feelings and just have fun. because that’s what’s easiest when you’re with mark lee.

momentarily forgetting that you’re still on call, you hastily ramble out a quick, “hey i gotta go, something came up,” and the eye roll that haechan’s sure to give is predictable as it is true. “fine,” he deadpans, “talk to you later. or not, i don’t know maybe something will come up and i’ll forget about you for two weeks.” and with that, he hangs up right as mark reenters the car, eyes all shimmery and filled with glee.

“you have fun out there?”

he messes around with a few wet tips of his hair. “a lot of fun, actually. you should help me out next time.”

your heart races messily and mercilessly at the thought of ‘next time,’ so much so that you only have enough mindpower to muse absorbedly, “maybe i should.” he gets his seat belt buckled and you cap your water bottle after taking a long swig.

“so…” mark starts whilst pressing the start engine button, “who was that on the phone?”

“haechan wanted to know if we were ripping each other’s hair out yet.”

mark chuckles, reversing the car out of the small lot. his eyes tell you he knows that a lot more than just that was discussed, but he resists prying to a certain extent. “so what’d you tell him?”

“well...” you take a moment to admire his side profile, his one hand resting casually on the wheel, and the gentle way his lips curve into a smile when you say, “i told him that i still have a full head of hair.”

「 DAY 03, 12:00 AM 」 — YOU ARE MY SOUVENIR, MY PROOF THAT I WAS HERE

what etrip.net forgot to mention was that the $19 you happily gave away was actually just a reservation fee, and not — as they had deceived you into thinking — the actual price of the room. you direct a sheepish smile towards mark as the bright-faced young man at the front counter charges $124 on your card. evidently, the internet is why you have trust issues.

the hotel sits right in the belly of downtown oklahoma city, with the touristy bricktown district only two blocks away. you’re given a card key to a spacious room with a queen sized bed draped in a crisp and plush duvet. from the updated appliances to the chic furniture and decor, every corner of the room smelled like fresh lemon verbena.

“i guess this is what you get when you pay top dollar.”

mark nods dazedly, but at the mention of money, he snaps out of his haze. “here,” he fishes out his phone from his back pocket, “i’ll transfer you the $62.”

you recline into the white lounge chair in the corner of the room. a ding! sounds from your bag that you’ve set on the floor besides you, signaling the transaction. eyes now closed in respite, you direct your “thanks” towards no one in particular.

there’s no couch this time, despite having paid a ridiculous amount, so mark sets himself atop the left side of the bed. he rummages through the front pocket of his backpack until he draws forth a thin booklet with a giant OKC in bolded yellow on the front. as he remembered, there’s a checklist list on the second page that covers all the must-do, must-see activities and locations that oklahoma city has to offer.

mark looks up at you, then back down at the book, then back at you and back down at the book. he knows you well enough to see that you’ve yet to fall asleep. but give it another two or three minutes and the snores will catch up to you. but before those two or three minutes round upon him, mark decides that he has nothing to lose. if you want to come, you’ll come. if not, he still has a whole city to plow through in one night.

“hey.” there’s a hand on your shoulder and it’s shaking you lightly. distantly, you think that you’ve entered a state of lucid dreaming. a second after, the voice returns to say, “y/n, wake up,” and you’re conscious enough to recognize it as mark’s. willing your eyes to open, he’s hovering right above you with apprehensive eyes. “let’s go out.”

still not quite awake and still unsure of what you just heard, you blurt rather obtrusively, “what?”

“i mean...i mean like let’s go out out,” and he gestures to the window to make his point clearer. “we can get late dinner, or really early breakfast, or just walk around for a bit.”

not very convinced, you only frown at him. in turn, he’s prompted to ramble on further. “okay, but when’s the next time you’re visiting oklahoma?”

“like… never,” you drawl out slowly. mark nods fervidly as if there were a right answer and you were at the precipice of discovering it. impatient or in sudden fervor, he exasperates, “exactly! so you should make the most of tonight and see what it has to offer.”

he’s like an overly enthusiastic salesman and you decide that even if it’s just to please him, there’s no harm in playing tourist for a few hours; you could sleep as much as you want on the road anyways. you give in, “okay fine,” and watch as he pumps a fist not-so-covertly. “gimme like five minutes to change first though.”

by the time you meet him at the lobby, mark’s switched out his tour guide booklet for his phone, having loaded up all the destinations in preparation. the warm air outside is breezy to a fault and the wind picks up your hair and sloshes it this way and that. mark is quick to laugh but equally quick to tuck the wandering strands behind your ears. unknowingly, you blush and when you don’t break the stare, he breaks it for you. the tips of his ears are red when he looks away.

the first stop — a touristy jazz club — is closed for renovation, and the next one that you guys attempt had rebranded into a strip club. unease begins to nibble away at mark’s intial excitement, as his exhaustion and embarrassment collide to dampen his mood. the sidewalk crowd doesn’t care to part for two, so mark grabs hold of your wrist, leading you towards what he hopes is the final destination for the night.

mark finds his composure being built up and chipped away by your presence in the exact way he’d expected it to even before this whole ordeal of a trip. he can avoid your careful eyes and feign ignorance towards your attempts at civility, but he will never be one to deny to himself how much he still cares, how much he has always and will always care, about your opinion of him. it’s in the littlest ways that he hopes if not to impress you, then to make you smile at the least. mark doesn’t endeavor to lie to himself about that — that he wants you to smile and that he wants, even more so, to be the reason behind it.

he thinks he’s done a rather good job of accomplishing that tonight. from afar, “the flea” is but a green box with brick facing and a short line abutting the entrance. but upon entering, the ambiance of the bar feels rather like an old school arcade, with low ceilings and dimly colored lighting. it’s littered with games from pool to cornhole to connect four, and people are drunk and having fun. mark glances at you to gauge your liking, and supresses the urge to pump a lame and loser-ish fist at they way your eyes glisten in response to your lively surroundings.

he’s not sure if he’ll ever get the courage to apologize for the consequence of his thoughtless ramble from earlier in the day. and he knows that an apology is what you deserve. but in his own selfish and self-serving way, he hopes that this one night of drinking and games will at the very least make up for your soured impression of him.

you order two beers at the bar and amble over to mark, who’s found himself a spot at the darts corner. handing him the drink and taking a swig of your own, you query with a cocked eyebrow in the direction of the board, “wanna bet?”

taking the drink from your hands, mark deadpans, “you suck at darts.”

mouth full, you quickly swallow before laughing aloud, “maybe i got better, you never know.”

mark rolls his eyes in disbelief, but concedes nevertheless, “so what’s on the line?”

you take a quick scan around the room in consideration when a girl standing on the opposite side of the room by the pool table catches your eye. but not because she’s looking at you. feet crossed at the ankles and left hand swirling a half-emptied margarita, she has her sights set square on mark. a small smile dawns upon your face, and you turn back towards him. “you lose, you get her number.”

once glance around the room and he, too, knows who you’re talking about. maybe his heart sinks a little. and so he laughs. maybe he wishes you wouldn’t be so quick to write him off with another person other than you. mark takes a sip of his beer, and looks around the room once again. maybe he doesn’t mean what he’s about to say. “you lose, you get his number.” maybe he wants you to know that he still likes you, at least a lot more than the guy by the bar with the sleazy smile.

you take a look at him yourself and decide that he wouldn’t be too bad of a punishment. some part of you felt the need to distinguish you and mark as two single friends who were just hanging out. the barrier needed to be defined after how it’d been ebbing between the extremes of exes and more than exes the whole day. it’s hard to say that you don’t like mark at this point. and that while any other guy could make you feel things, it would never amount close enough to what mark made you feel.

but it’s even harder to say that you would want to get back together with him.

mark decides on a 200 point game and whilst you get off to a good start with two 20-pointers, mark beats you out by almost a hundred point margin to sum up the game. today, he feels up for admitting the truth to himself, for he knows well that he had tried his best to lose. but any further effort on that attempt would have made it obvious, as there was no conceivable way for him to out-lose your constant 1-pointers without suspicion.

he watches as you down the rest of your beer before gesturing in the direction of the bar. he smiles back when you mouth, “i’ll be back,” over the blaring music. he knows why you’re being like this. he knows that it’s mostly his fault. he also knows that you’re doing this to protect yourself, that it’s not a means of punishing him. but mark accepts his punishment anyways, looking onwards as you approach the guy with a tap on his shoulder. he watches as the guy’s eyes rakes your figure in delight, sets a casual hand on your waist, smiles along to your cheesy pick up line.

but mark tears his eyes away before the guy can smash his greasy lips onto yours, or before you respond in kind. even seeing him lean in made mark sick to the stomach. he goes to retrieve the darts from the board and when he returns, you’ve returned too. “got it,” you show him the contact and number in your phone, “and i got a smooch on the cheek too.”

a small, “ew,” is all he can muster in his confusion of equal relief and disappointment. mark keeps you close for the rest of the night. you suggest many times that he go talk to this girl, or how that girl looks like his exact type. but you don’t seem to understand that mark only wants to talk to you and that you’re the only person in this room, or even in the world, he’d consider to be his exact type. you are nowhere near the understanding that mark has never felt this unlucky to be spending the night with a girl he wants but has lost the privilege to have.

you’re tipsy, with an arm linked with his and your head on his shoulder, as he walks the two of you back to the hotel. mark can’t tell you — at least not in this state — how he’s thought of trying again at least a million times. he’s come up with a million scenarios of how he’d somehow loop himself back into your life and slowly regain your trust for him. a million times over, he’d lost the confidence to follow through, always so sure that he would fall in the same patterns of negligence and immaturity. even so, he’s never wanted to try as much as he does right now.

he places your shoes by the bedside and slips off your dirty socks to add to the laundry. rummaging through your toiletries bag, he comes upon the micellar water and reusable cotton pads. he swipes it across your sleeping face to collect the makeup and extra debris, then washes the two pads and clips them on a hanger to dry. mark is dutiful in drawing the covers up to your chin, in pulling your hair back from your face, in everything a boyfriend would do.

mark is sober when he sets his lockscreen as the only thing he has to remember oklahoma city by: a photo of you, smiling at him.

「 DAY 03, 8:21 AM 」 — HIS APOLOGY

“what is the hardest truth you had to face this year?”

you place the card to the back of the deck after reading the question aloud. mark takes his eyes off the road for a split second to glance at you. fiddling with a used toothpick with your fingers, mark wonders when you started flossing after years and years of ignoring your dentist’s nagging. yesterday, he noticed you were using a different chapstick brand than what he remembered as your go-to. you wear your hair up more often, and you frequent warm-toned clothing as opposed to your routine neutrals.

the more time he spends around you, the more mark realizes he’s never felt this distant from you. in barely two days time, he’s been surprised by how much you’ve changed in the relatively short duration the two of you spent apart compared to the time you had spent together. mark’s even more surprised by how little he’s changed in comparison.

the thirty seconds you’ve taken to formulate a response — to decide your terms of vulnerability in just how much to divulge — weren’t nearly enough for mark to be prepared for what you were about to share.

you don’t look at him when you speak. with your eyes set on the passing hills just outside, your voice breaches lowly into the air and across the car, right to mark’s utter confusion at the first of your words.

“i’ve learned that no amount of love goes wasted. i’ve learned that bad, unfortunate, terrible things happen to good people everyday, most of the time for no reason.” when you next blink, there’s a thin film of tears that gloss your eyes. “i’ve learned that the same bad, unfortunate, terrible things can happen to the very people that you love, and that sometimes there is nothing you can do about it.”

he thinks he can hear your breaths, or some similar rhythm pulsing in the thickened air, taut with tension and the fragility of your words. two beats pass, then four, before mark confirms it to be your now labored breathing. it stops shortly after, and you continue speaking to your best ability, which even then amounts to very little. “i’ve learned…”

mark turns to look at you for a little longer than he should, and the composure with which you held your head gives out, the weight of his gaze somehow heavier than that of your circumstances. he’s never seen you like this. he doesn’t know what’s your reality, and that this car, this trip, this moment, is your escape.

“i’ve learned what it means to grieve for someone before they’ve even passed.”

he doesn’t know that you’re running on stolen time. he doesn’t know, wasn’t there, never saw how your mom had given your hand a squeeze, feeble but certain. how she faults her poorly-timed illness. how she struggled to sit up to give your grief-stricken, heartbroken body a hug and a kiss goodbye, regretful she might never be able to rejoice in her daughter’s marriage, and yet grateful that at least her other daughter can rejoice in her stead.

when you find it in yourself to lift your head upright, mark takes in another glance at the puffiness around your eyes and the streaks running down your cheek to your neck. he knows he should free a hand to locate the tissue box or offer that hand in support but he can hardly breathe, much less move, when you start speaking again.

“it’s my mom. her cancer, it’s relapsed.”

for a few seconds, all he can hear is the white noise of his car tires on an endless expanse of road. it’s like your words dissolve into the noise, refusing their impact on his own ears, richocheting between reality and his imagination. mark holds so still that he might as well have stopped breathing, or thinking, or being.

it’s only when he hears a sob escape from you that his gravity returns to him out of a sense of realized necessity. a sort of certainty courses through his veins when he pulls over the car. there’s barely anyone on the road to witness him exit and circle around to your side. mark moves with conviction when he pulls your door open, unbuckles your seat belt, and embraces you whole. neither of you register the tears leaking from his eyes nor the way his hands shake ever so slightly, because his expression has been set straight, and his body sturdy for you to lean on.

forehead pressed to his chest, you’re gasping for air and making all sorts of incomprehensible sounds of anguish. you weren’t sure of where your strength had come from to confide in him like that, after you’d dutifully dedicated yourself to a trip detached fully of worries beyond your control at home. but you know it now. in the way he pats down your hair, rubs circles into your back, holds all the same grief-stricken, heartbroken pieces of your body together like glue, you know that it’s because it’s mark.

he doesn’t yet know what he’s saying but it’s coming out of him anyways. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he panics even more when you’re shaking your head in his arms, your hitched breaths unable to let forth any words of disagreement. but mark shakes his head too. you don’t know.

you don’t know how much it hurts him. from his heart, in his bones, through every fiber of his being he feels it. his apology.

“i’m sorry for not being there when you needed me most.”

you make up for your loss of words by looking up at him, finally. his mask of placidity folds, first at the seams with the furrow of his brow, but then in full as his face scrunches into what can only be described as indescribable heartache. his shirt is fisted in your hands as you sob, “how could you… how could you have known?”

mark shuts his eyes because he doesn’t think he has it in him to bear witness to the misery written across your face. his heart hammers inside his chest, unpromising of any relief any time soon. he holds you together, closely, closer, until there’s hardly a hardly a point of separation between the two of you.

your question rings in his head, because it makes no sense, because it only makes him feel worse about the last year he’s spent alone, because even without you by his side…

“i should have just known.”

only now do you realize that your trust in mark is the one thing that could possibly nullify your entire messy history. in hindsight, it was obvious. you knew that if you told him, he would make it his duty to make you feel better. you told him because maybe that’s precisely what you wanted to feel. and maybe you needed mark, more than anyone, to hug you like this and to convince you that everything was somehow going to work out. because maybe, just maybe, you would begin to believe it for yourself.

「 00:00 」 — AMARANTH

it was something that you didn’t think was possible. to live with someone, to inhabit the same room, sleep in the same bed, and yet, to be so distanced to the point at which you were strangers.

sometimes he’d leave a mug on the kitchen counter, lukewarm coffee left idle. other times the tv would be left on when you got home from class, or the shower was wet when you stepped in. it was these small things, like traces of a ghost, that reminded you of your relationship with mark, or what was left of it.

on the off chance that the two of you would meet face-to-face, he was always reserved to himself. a few small apologies, maybe a peck to your lips, and always a search for reassurance — that you would’t leave him, that you wouldn’t understand where he was coming from, that you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

the it was complicated. on the surface, the it was his absence in the physical sense. despite dropping out from college and having a suddenly abundant amount of free time, barely any of that time was spent with you. despite moving in to your apartment after being cut off financially from his parents and being forced to move out of the school dorms, the it was him rarely being at home. mark was always out on some unnamed errand, or to shoot at some far away location, hours away from anyone and anything.

but under all that, the it was his inability to face himself and his future head on. the it was his latent realization that there were consequences to his impulsive and headstrong decisions, more than he had the foresight to think of, more than what he was capable of dealing with at the time. the it meant that he was incapable of putting any of these feelings to words, and even more so unwilling to say these words aloud to you.

mark didn’t know how to tell you he was lost without feeling like he had lost the one thing that was left of him — his dignity. he had held his head high when he’d passed word around that he would quit school, certain that it wasn’t the right path for him. he had held his head high when he had left his parents’ house, his childhood home, after his own father had gotten on his knees to beg him to just finish up his degree, to hold out for one last year. but he couldn’t even admit to himself, much less you, that he didn’t know what to do with himself after all his bravado had worn off.

it was an adulthood thing, he’d much later come to understand, his own version of a dramatic coming of age movie where he needed to lose himself in order to find himself. and it led him to the job of his dreams: somewhere between a full-time photographer and a part-time influencer, traveling the world, capturing it on film, documenting his process and growth journey for others to be inspired by. ever so passionate and devoted to his work, mark poured his whole into perfecting his craft. and only when he emerged atop the hill he had climbed all by his lone self — without a degree and without the support of his peers and parents — did mark realize that he had lost the one person that would have supported him through anything. you.

but the damage had been done. at that point, there was no such word in the english dictionary that could remediate the month and a half of unexplained absence. in response to his silence and refusal to confide in you, you had withdrawn from the relationship yourself, having given up on getting him to clue you in and having to deal with your own problems as well.

it was too late for mark to say anything about it, far too late for any verbal apology to make up for it all. mark figured that his actions would speak louder than his words ever could.

at the height of summer, the sun couldn’t have shone brighter. it was that day where you had come to understand that mark’s place of refuge had never been the apartment you thought you’d both called home; it was the lake. the emerald lake would have a special feature in the photobook that mark would publish months after the two of you had broken up. in his captions, he’d write that it was there that he would turn to when his thoughts overwhelmed him, when he didn’t have it in himself to face the world.

and it was beautiful, in the most heartbreaking way, to see for yourself that in his most vulnerable state, he had turned to these waters and these winds. it was most beguiling, in the most earth-shattering way, to watch as he submerged himself bare in the water, to realize that he could never bare his heart to you, didn’t know how to, didn’t want to, didn’t care to.

he didn’t understand how badly you wanted to love him for everything that he was. he was too proud to let you see the worst parts of him, too proud to let you love the worst parts of him.

to him, the water was a symbol of renewal. to bring you here, where his heart lay, meant that he was opening back up to you, urging to you enter his waters. to you, it was a symbol of cleansing. to enter the water where you were beckoned meant washing off all the grief and bitterness that had accumulated towards the tail end of your relationship. you hadn’t yet figured out where you stood with him, if you still loved him, or if you even knew him well enough to say that you still loved him.

it was ill-fated timing, really. your mom was diagnosed with hodgkin’s lymphoma, not even a week after what mark believed to be the turning point of your relationship. you had called him from the hospital, voice thick with affliction, rambling about chemotherapy and medical bills and breaking the news to your sister and everything else that had brought your world to a standstill. and yet in the midst of all your despair, mark could not for the life of him string together a single sentence.

later revealed, her cancer was at an early stage, so one round of chemotherapy was enough to quell it into remission. it wasn’t, however, easy on your family in terms of the financial burnden and emotional turmoil that steadily built over her four months of treatment.

all of this, mark would only hear of through haechan, for your relationship had ended the moment you had hung up that call.

blocking his phone number and social medias was the easy part. the hard part was convincing haechan to let mark move in with him. it was completely and utterly stupid and unreasonable, according to him, to end a fully committed relationship just because the guy couldn’t formulate a response to your trauma dump. “why?”

“because he’s emotionally constipated,” was the easy answer with an easy counter that haechan was sure to give, “but you knew that even before dating him.”

you sighed. however impossible, you could hear his impatience over the phone. it was enough to get you to be fully honest with your best friend. “he can’t talk to me. he can’t be honest with me. he can’t look me in the face and say ‘i’m sorry.’ tell me, hyuck,” your breath picks up and you’re mere seconds away from sobbing, “tell me, how am i supposed to come home from the hospital everyday and tell my sob story to a fucking wall?!”

later that day, haechan came over to your apartment to pick up all the belongings of your ex-boyfriend. you had dumped him because your life was in no state to house someone who didn’t know how to shoulder a burden. you had dumped him because, for the sake of your well being, you could no longer put up with his inability to communicate openly with you, to tell you what he was feeling, to tell you to ease your worries, or even just to tell you that he loved you.

but even now as you’re sat in the passenger seat of his car, if mark told you he didn’t love you anymore, you probably wouldn’t believe it.

you know it in the way he looks at you, with eyes so tender and attentive to your every motion, ears perked at every intonation, and heart worn bare at the foot of his sleeve. these were all made fact from the moment you first stepped in his car, when the simple idea of seeing him still made you apprehensive and guarded.

but with how low your defenses have since dropped, there’s no reason left to deny that mark wouldn’t believe you either if you told him you didn’t love him anymore.

and you can’t say it’s any sort of impulsive feeling, or an effect of loneliness that’s gotten the best of you. it’s evident to you now that the mark beside you is not the same mark you fell in love with. he is a result of your breakup, the one thing that he could not bury away with the rest of his feelings. the one thing that, if he ever turned to the lake for refuge, would only haunt him in the form of the memory of you that day. he could not run from the torment of losing you, because it had consumed him whole.

the mark beside you gave you your space when you needed it, and held you close even when you didn’t know you needed it. he still is awkward in responding to your questions, but he responds nonetheless. he apologized.

he’s not the same mark you foolishly fell in love with, overlooking his weakness until it ruined your relationship. the mark beside you is someone you have the choice of falling in love with, in full admiration for his growth and strengths, so much so that it begs the question:

what do you do when the reason you broke up with your ex no longer exists?

「 DAY 03, 12:47 PM 」 — WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?

“thank you.”

mark jolts in his seat, though he keeps enough of his cool only to answer somewhat lamely, “uhh… for what?”

“for comforting me.”

mark doesn’t look over at you. he can’t. he’s afraid of what you have to say, of what’s to become of your fleeting friendship, of the boundaries he’d overstepped. so he merely brushes it off, hoping you don’t read too much into his actions to feel uncomfortable about it. “oh that? it was nothing, no need to thank me.”

but you look over at him, and continue to, for seconds or even minutes on end. the profile of his face is perfect to you, round eyes, the slope of his nose, an equally boyish and nervous smile playing at his lips. you could almost cry, again; this time at the irony of how your break up was so ill-fated by time, but your reunion so auspicious.

“it was not nothing to me. it was… everything.”

now he looks over at you with curious eyes, but you just shake your head slightly. “it just meant a lot to me. that’s all.”

mark returns his gaze up front. he’s still nervous, afraid, and ever so conscious of you, but at the very least, he’s glad that he seems to have successfully communicated his care for you. in silence, you’ve spent the last three hours switching between playing sudoku on your phone and annotating a red-covered book titled all about love by bell hooks with a pink pen.

until a few seconds ago, mark hadn’t had any insight whatsoever as to how you were feeling, whether you wanted more space to yourself, or if you wanted to just put it behind you and move on to cheerier conversations. and with bated breath has mark awaited some sort of sign that you were doing okay. now, as if given the green light, he sighs in relief and begins to speak, almost a little too eager to be able to strike conversation with you again.

“we’re almost halfway through texas now. well, the tip of it.”

the view just outside is completely flat for as far as the eye can perceive. blocked with only two colors, the vivid blue sky is completely void of any cloud, just as the dirt ground is void of any plant. seeing the landscapes change restlessly before your eyes over the past few days has felt like putting your life on double the speed, and the constant and unchanging blue and brown just outside feels like a welcome contrast. in all the flurry of this trip, you yearn for a moment to reorient yourself. and so you ask, “where are we staying tonight?”

“not sure yet, but if you want to you can look up some hotels in new mexico.”

you ponder the suggestion to yourself before suggesting an idea of your own, “how about we go camping? i saw your gear in the trunk.”

it’s gradual and awfully subtle, but you watch intently as the corners of mark’s lips upturn into a small smile. you even take note of how the sunlight from outside catches in his eyes, a small glint that gives his whole countenance a boyish radiance. he chuckles under his breath, simultaneously spotting a sign on the right side of the road. there’s almost a singing undertone in the way he says, “wanna take a break somewhere, grab some food, and plan something?”

you notice that the smile is still on his face as he sits across from you at a wendy’s in the middle of amarillo, thirty minutes later. in the same plaza there happened to be a taco bell and a denny’s, with an ihop and mcdonald’s across the street, inciting a fifteen minute heated debate as to which would make you less likely to vomit all over his car. in reality, there was no right answer. they were all wrong, but mark lee isn’t usually one to win arguments.

he has a few travel brochures splayed on top of the table, though he spends more of his attention typing into his phone and scribbling down notes on a yellow post-it. while he put himself in charge of finding a suitable camping spot somewhere in eastern new mexico, mark put you in charge of something you couldn’t mess up, and something you thought was too easy for the high paygrade of your company.

you did it begrudgingly and anyways, opening up the notes app on your phone, not all that happy to be left with the comparatively more boring job of coming up with a list of things to buy. with some on-the-go food options and a blanket on the list, you contemplated what kind of alcohol would most appropriately suit the occasion, looking up from your phone in time to catch mark as he did the same. briefly, your eyes met across the table.

he knows you both thought of the same thing. you must have.

he’s the only one who knows he didn’t actually need to study for any of his finals that semester, with most of them being projects and the only outlier being a general education psychology course. but mark was at the library every day and night with you, knowing you were scared shitless for your first week of finals as a college student. you were in two completely different majors, with no overlapping classes or even departments, and yet he was there, quizzing you on your human anatomy or art history notes. you’d get all in your head about the answers, rethinking and doubting yourself. and then you’d look up at him, eyes meeting across the table just the same as now, and you’d say the correct answer.

and there was that one time, in the complete silence of the top floor of the main library, where mark had slipped you a post-it note, eyes attentive and lips pulled into a line as he watched you read over his penned question. and as always, you had said the correct answer. i would love to go on a date with you.

just like back then, you smile at him brightly and fondly from across the table. mark looks taken aback for a second, either reeling or pleasantly surprised by thought of the memory. he takes a bite of his burger, chews a bit, then swallows roughly. you look back down at your screen and quickly type ‘soju’ before setting your phone down, figuring something stronger than beer would be able to get more truths out of you that wouldn’t escape so easily when sober. seeing as how this trip had you revealing more than you expected, even going as far as confiding your most vulnerable self to mark, you wish he would let go of some of his own thoughts as well.

mark sets his phone down too, as you rummage through your bag to find the red box you’d taken from the car. he watches as you set it on the table and after recognizing it, quips almost incredulously, “you still wanna play? after all that?”

“well i was thinking i could use a break from answering.”

“you want me to answer?” he quirks an eyebrow up, and you pass the set of cards over to him. barely shuffling, he draws a card at random and his eyebrows move again, this time to furrow as he skims the question. mark reads aloud, “how old do you feel, emotionally?”

it’s a question that you yourself can’t answer for him, even if you wished to. there’s no way for you to tell what kind of changes had occurred between then and now, but at the very least you know that he’s years wiser than the mark that once sat across from you at the library. and that thought alone pulls at your heart incessantly.

after giving the question some thought, mark answers in all the ways you least expect him to.

“i feel like i know nothing.”

and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further.

“what?”

mark laughs a bit. it’s evident that his thought was underdeveloped, and so he develops it some more, “i feel like a newborn baby, but like… really smart.” he continues to make no sense, so you laugh at him. and then you’re both laughing. it’s sweet, really.

he had spent so long in that library with you, dutifully studying for what would be the easiest final exam of his life. mark reread his psychology notes so many times that week that they would be forever ingrained in his mind. but to you, the next thoughts he shares are completely out of the blue.

“you know like crystallized and fluid intelligence?” he pauses to laugh some more at the quizzical look you’ve thrown him. “like crystallized is like accumulated knowledge and stuff like facts, while fluid intelligence is like problem-solving and reasoning or something.”

now he really needs you to stop laughing because it’s infectious. “and what does that have to do with anything?” your laughter is especially infectious to him, because he really can’t bring himself to stop laughing despite the point he so desperately wants to make.

“just let me finish my thought, okay? and then you can laugh all you want.”

at that, you stifle your laughter by pressing your lips together, and all mark can think of is how cute you are. he pushes past that thought and does his best to sound like he’s not stupid.

“i mean like, i feel like i have a bunch of crystallized intelligence from being in the world for so long, but at the same time i have zero fluid intelligence. like i’m a newborn baby with all the knowledge in the world, and no idea what to do with it.”

and you catch on immediately, “so basically like… adulting? like facing the real world after being coddled your entire life?”

mark isn’t laughing anymore nor was anything he said that stupid, but he has this stupid dopey smile on his face. because if there’s one person that can comprehend his thoughts so completely and so easily, even as he uses the most unorthodox methods to explain them, it’s you. always you. only you.

and just like that you understood it all. the months he spent in solitude after dropping out of college weren’t spent alone, they were spent facing the real world. you had always been so bitter that he would rather endure those rough moments by himself than shoulder his worries with you, but you understand it now. and he didn’t even need to say much at all. mark had needed space to figure out himself, for himself. he needed to unlearn everything that people and society had told him about who he was, what he was good at, bad at, should or shouldn’t do, and for once, spend time to get to know himself. after all, how was he supposed to be in a relationship with you if he didn’t even have an idea of who he was?

sitting across from him now, you can see in full how mark’s grown into himself, his passions, and his work. he’s facing the world still, and will always be, but he is confident instead of prideful. he isn’t ashamed of what he doesn’t know, for he will learn in due time. he isn’t afraid of failure, because he knows he’ll only grow from it.

it’s astonishing how these past few days have brought everything into a full circle. in hindsight, the messy break up was really just what the situation called for. and this impromptu reunion turned out to be a miracle of timing, to the degree at which the both of you can’t help but think…

right person, right time.

「 DAY 03, 10:12 PM 」 — MY DREAMS COME TRUE (WHEN I’M WITH YOU)

you found it strange, but didn’t think too much of it.

it was like there was some foggy haze over everything, like a honeyed film that made your world a little sweeter, softer, and more precious. you had spent almost a full two years juggling your classes, extracurriculars, and family and relationship issues, flitting between school and home and the hospital and then repeating it all over and over until you couldn’t even trace when you’d gone a bit insane. to you, it was something between a secret orchestration of the universe and an answered prayer to find yourself out here, surrounded by cicadas and under the scorching sun.

to him, it was everything he could have asked for, and more.

sumner lake state park had his favorite hues of greens, blues, and browns. and you were grateful, for mark frequently paused your impromptu hiking trip to shoot on his camera, leaving you moments to catch a breath and take in the views along the lakeshore.

the sun had set at half past eight. that was almost two hours ago, and two hours after the two of you had luckily scored a spot at the eastside campground. whoever made the original reservation would forever have no clue as to what they helped achieve by simply not showing up.

it was like a dream, except you were awake. it was like a movie, except you were the star. it was like a book, except it wasn’t all about love. it was all about mark lee.

he has one hand holding his mug and the other on your thigh. again, there’s the glint in his eyes, this time sourced from the small campfire he’s made. the summer night is hot enough, but mark had insisted. “for the ambiance,” he’d said, “for the memories.”

this is how the memory will go. for whenever you think back to this moment, you will always remember the glow of the fire reflected in his eyes, the buzz of cicadas, the sound of the lapping lake, and his hand on your thigh.

you take a swig of your soju, face scrunching at the initially bitter taste. setting your mug down, you lean back on the palms of your hands and look up towards the sky. it reminds you of the color pencil set you used to use as a kid, the black you’d always confuse for a dark navy and the dark navy you’d always confuse for the black. and dotted with a white color pencil were the stars, shining one by one, all too similar to the light in his eyes.

the water of the lake reminds you of him. the leaves of trees he’d dedicated countless rolls of film to reminds you of him. the singing of birds, as soft as his mindless humming, reminds you of him. the sweetness left by the soju in your mouth reminds you of him.

maybe the world felt a little lighter on your shoulders when you were with him, and everything seemed a little brighter because of his bright eyes and carefree smile. he makes you feel like you’re a kid whose imaginative color pencil drawings of her dreams spin off the paper and turn into reality. like a kid who, in her heart, only has space for hope for the future.

and you think, that must be what it means to love someone. to see everything in a different light, to see only the best of situations, of people, of the world around you. and ultimately, to love the world, everybody in it, every thing ever created, because you love him.

and so when he draws the next card, it’s the most ridiculous question ever.

“how did you get over your first love?”

you laugh a little, then gulp down the rest of the soju in your mug. wincing at the taste, you decide that it would do no harm whatsoever to be a little more honest with mark. compared to the first day you stepped in his car, back into his life, you now have a very good idea of how mark had changed, how he knew how to handle your feelings with care this time around. it’s a newfound trust, and you plan on exercising it.

looking him straight in the eye, you cock your head a bit to the left as if considering the thing you already knew you were to say. “i don’t think i’ve ever gotten over you.”

mark has no reaction. he just stares at you for longer and longer, until you tilt your head to the other side and he seems to remember that time hasn’t stopped for him. suddenly he’s also downing the rest of his soju, throwing his head back and gulping it down thickly.

truth be told, he used to be intimidated by the honesty with which you always spoke, but he thinks he gets it now. whether it be with other people or with himself, mark feared that the truth about his feelings, his pridefulness, or the nature of his insecurities weakened him. but at the end of the day, what good has avoiding the truth done for him? it was through losing the most sincere person in his life that he realized being forthright and overcoming the fear, the uncomfortableness, and sometimes the displeasure of being honest, made him all the stronger.

and it’s with these thoughts that mark is able to muster up the courage to regain your gaze with all the softness in the world. maybe it had a little to do with the alcohol in his system, but the words seem to slip right out of him. “i don’t think i’ve ever gotten over you either.”

you hold your gaze for only a few moments longer, for shortly after processing his words you break out into a grin so wide, mark can’t help but think the alcohol’s gotten to you too. and then you’re laughing a bit — whether out of relief or bewilderment, he can’t tell — but he’s glad. mark is glad to hear your honest answer, glad to give an honest answer back. he watches as you fully recline on the air mattress in the trunk of his car, looking onwards adoringly. there’s really no way to tell if he’s feeling this giddy because he’s drunk or because for the first time, there is no need to suppress his feelings for you. mark suspects it’s both, at the same time, in full effect.

he grabs another card, reads it for all of two seconds. mark leans over to where you’re peering up at him and, smiling fondly, he tells you to, “close your eyes for a sec.” you think of the campfire, the cicadas, and the lake, but when you recall this night in memory, this exact moment is what you remember most vividly.

it was bound to happen. you just didn’t know it’d happen like this.

the air mattress isn’t uncomfortable, per se; it’s just that it feels hot against your skin. chills run down the length of your spine, but it isn’t the doing of the wind from the half-open windows. it’s mark lee and his lips on yours. his hand comes up to your arm feverishly, barely grazing it, and more chills ripple from wherever the rings on his fingers ghost your skin.

mark stops for a moment. takes a breath. looks back up and peers into your eyes. he kisses you again.

you don’t know what to do except kiss him back. he has both hands on you now, the one on your arm and the other one on your neck. and he keeps kissing you, lips molding to yours with slips of his tongue here and there, gentle and prodding. he’s scared. for what exactly? he doesn’t know. maybe for his life.

his life, that you seem to be holding in your hands, the same hands that are now making their way around his waist. mark can’t breathe. the skin at the back of your neck is warm and soft to the touch, but he already knew that. he’s known it for so long. everything about you is familiar to him like a well-worn book or the lines of his favorite song. the sound of your voice is so low when the briefest of groans escapes you, but to mark it’s almost predictable. this is the you that he knows, the you that he couldn’t forget, the you that he lost.

mark can’t breathe, and so he stops kissing you. he mumbles an embarrassed, “i’m sorry.” he buries his head into your shoulder. he thinks he loves you. he knows he does.

but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud.

out of fear, he can’t tell you he loves you. it’s not the same fear that held him back from sharing any vulnerable side of himself with you, but instead the fear of losing you. even as you admit your lingering feelings and kiss him back like you’d never stopped, mark is filled with the fear of how overbearing he’d be if he fully leaned into his desire for you. he can imagine himself, in this same moment but in a million different universes, and in each one he messes up.

in one, he moves too fast by saying the words but he’s got the timing all wrong, and all of a sudden his feelings are a burden to you whose own feelings lack the depth of his. in another, he never says them at all, and this night marks the last of any intimacy he’ll receive for the rest of his life. in all of these universes, he knows why he kissed you, but he doesn’t know what you meant when you kissed him back. in all these universes, he wants, more than anything, to do right by you.

“sorry for what?”

mark lifts his head up to look you in the eye, and when he still fails to say a word, you tease him a bit to lighten the suddenly dour look on his face. “for kissing me? really?”

to your delight, he chuckles at that and shakes his head lightly.

you can tell he has a lot on his mind, but his neck and ears are flushed red and you don’t mean to use his inebriation to pry the words out of him. you pat the empty side of the bed, “lay down, we should get some sleep.”

slowly and cautiously, he moves to the spot next to you. laying down flat on his back and staring at the darkened ceiling of his car, mark wonders if this is the universe where nothing happens at all and he misses his chance completely. he sinks into this feeling and almost lets it consume him whole when he realizes he’s the only person who has the ability to change that.

the blanket the you bought earlier in the day has been discarded by your feet, the summer heat imanent even in the dead of night. you don’t know how to process what just happened, and you don’t get a chance to. a warmth is felt along your side before you realize mark’s arms have found their way around your waist, bringing you closer to him. he nuzzles his face into the sleeve of your shirt, eyes closed and humming in satisfaction.

his voice is barely discernible when he mumbles, “i’m sorry if that caught you by surprise.”

the sound of cicadas chirping just outside fills the space between his apology and your forgiveness. “it’s okay. i didn’t mind it.”

mark shifts his position a little. he places a small kiss at the base of your neck. “do you mind this, then?”

though his eyelids remain heavy and all his words are slurred together, he’s more alert than he has been all day. he doesn’t hear your small laugh so much as he feels it pulse against him, and it fills him with much joy. perhaps this has been his superpower all along, changing his universe in small and big ways, however he desires. perhaps, as long as he is true to himself and honest with his feelings, he will always find a way to have you close by his side, feeling every rise and fall of your breath.

that night, in the brief moments before sleep overcomes him mark decides that he will create a universe where you are his, happily, rightfully, and fatefully.

「 DAY 05, 1:44 AM 」 — JUST TELL ME YOU LOVE ME

number three on mark’s bucket list — the one he made in his sophomore year of college — is to one day visit the svalbard islands. located in the arctic circle, the northernmost town in the world, called longyearbyen, goes about half a year without sunlight during its dark season. it is there that mark wishes to undergo the challenge of photographing in almost complete darkness, something he’s never quite been able to catch the hang of.

number four on his bucket list is to start a company that produces camera gear for his own needs, and for the needs of the many people he’s inspired with his work. number five on his bucket list is to buy an old ass subaru manual transmission wrx and fix it up until it’s perfectly to his liking.

out of all these ambitions listed on his bucket list that mark had told you about way back then – the previously mentioned visiting of all the national parks and forests, shooting in svalbard, starting a camera gear company, and owning a wrx — he’d neglected to tell you what tops his list at number one.

after two years, his bucket list remains unchanged, even the mystery number one: to complete everything on his list with you.

when you had asked a few days prior why mark hadn’t bothered moving out of nyc as it no longer served his needs, he had said you were the one reason he couldn’t part with the city. it had made you frustrated as to why he kept you in the equation even after your relationship came to a close, but more so confused as to why he still held you to such importance.

you had spent the many months after the break up working hard at keeping your life together, removing all emotions, situations, and people that stood in the way of your priorities at the time, which were school and family. while that still holds true for you, mark’s priorities hadn’t changed either; you have continued to be a priority of his to this very day. and only now, when he’s right in front of you, do you realize this.

maybe it had been your insistence on moving on from him that you believed all his actions were nothing more than displays of his latent guilt. he’d send boxes of protein drinks to your front door, salves and balms for cracked skin, and woven hats for your mom who was undergoing chemotherapy at the time. and for you, there’d be the occasional uber eats ramen or chicken noodle soup that would arrive at your doorfront unprompted, and especially right at the times when you were up studying all night.

under suspicion, you had stopped complaining to haechan whenever you were feeling particularly tired or hungry, and the late night meals that were sent to your house lowered in frequency, and weren’t as punctual to your needs. mark wasn’t outright with anything, never showed up himself, or contacted you personally, but he wasn’t exactly discreet either.

only you, haechan, and mark knew your door code, for you hadn’t bothered to changed it after he moved out as there was no apparent need to. after the lightbulb in your kitchen went out and you had asked haechan a favor to buy you one at the nearest hardware store, you came home later that day to find it already fixed. knowing haechan was also busy with school and wouldn’t go to such lengths without further bribing, you had surmised it was mark and decided to put it to the test. the next time when your shower faucet started leaking, you mentioned it in passing to haechan and before the end of the week, it was good as new.

could it have counted as breaking and entering? that’s debateable. but you were aware of it and yet did nothing about it, rendering it legal at the very least. back then, you had given the vitamin supplements he had sent to your house to your mom, eaten every meal he bought you, and accepted all his covert services without a second thought, because you were firm in your belief that any form apology sent your way was useless in repairing the relationship you had put to a stop. you might as well accept it, move on, and wait until the day mark was no longer ridden with guilt, and no longer felt the need to perform such acts out as a result.

that day never came, and it’s evident to you in retrospect that he did nothing out of guilt, but everything out of care, for your health, your well-being, and safety. his care, simply, for you.

it’s evident to you in the way mark exceled in his role as the passenger princess the entire day. after he lost another argument to you, you finally found yourself behind the wheel which, somehow, felt like the safest seat in his car. he fed you snacks, kept you entertained, put on all your favorite songs, and navigated the both of you safely to the white sands national park in new mexico.

mark kept an extra pair of sunglasses in the central console of his car. mark also had facial oil blotting papers in the glove box. in the trunk, there was an extra pair of sandals in your size, and a set of two fold-out camping chairs. the way he never stopped caring, it was as if you never broke up with him.

there is no city in the world that mark would rather live in, if you are not there. there is no national park he would ever visit, if you are not with him. he would freeze to death in the northernmost city in the world, without your warmth beside him. he would run his company to the ground without your input, and his favorite wrx becomes just another car without you in the passenger seat. all his life goals lose their meaning in your absence. this is how it’s always been for mark. this is why you are a priority to him.

even with his sunglasses on, the white sands were exceptionally bright. for the duration of 45 minutes, mark had guided you along the dunes drive, a scenic eight mile drive through the famed gypsum dunefield. the road conditions were harsher the farther you went along, and so he instructed you into the nearest parking lot, and swapped seats with you before going on. mark held your hand while driving, and he also squeezed it whenever he inevitably hit a bump here and there, as if in apology, as if it was his fault.

mark had kissed you again, with nothing but the white sands and blue skies in the backdrop. he’d taken pictures of you, using up his most expensive film stock on your priceless smile. he’d paid for the motel too, knowing you hadn’t initially wished for the trip to be more than three days, but wanting you to stay for yet another.

all of this has you wondering if you have it in you to care for him the way he cares for you.

you wonder how much importance he holds to you, how much of your heart you’d be willing to give to him, where your love for him would take you if you set it free.

as it turns out, your unanswered questions would be answered in the wee hours of the following morning. this is after mark had driven another six hours to ensure you would be able to make it to los angeles by the day after that to help with last minute preparations for your sister’s wedding.

you are in miami, a city in which — up until the last hour of your life — you had no idea existed outside of florida. you are in arizona, a state in which you would never have had a reason for visiting, if not for mark lee.

you are in a room, at the two-star rated el rey motel. and now you are in the bathroom, dimly lit by the dispersed light of a plastic water bottle placed atop your phone flashlight. you are in the bathtub, and though the water’s no longer hot, the temperature maintains its warmth from the heat emanating off your body. alongside mark lee’s.

it’s a forced darkness; the single lightbulb was out, and the early hour meant the motel staff had already retired for the night. with only one weak light source, the darkness of the room sets a tension so high that both of you are afraid to speak, much less move. but you put it upon yourself to break the tension, as it was your idea in the first place. bathing together.

the silence and the darkness combined makes it so every movement and every breath is unmistakeable and pronounced. the same applies to the sound of your voice when you start to speak, “thank you.”

all of a sudden, mark repositions himself. you can barely see it, but you hear the water sloshing and you feel it move about you. he’s sat across the tub, and you find it fascinating that even without light, his eyes still manage to shine. looking into them, you resume, “thank for everything you did, after we broke up.”

you can hear him swallow. the more you talk, the more you feel the tears pricking at your eyes, your emotions rising as you continue to speak, “and thank you driving me across the country, and for always being considerate, and for apologizing, and for…” your voice lowers to a bare whisper, “...everything. for everything you have ever done for me.”

“you don’t… you don’t have to thank me for anything.”

whereas your tears are at the precipice of falling, you notice that mark has begun crying. they’re silent, the way his tears roll down his left cheek. the water around you shifts, ebbs and flows, as you move closer to him and reach a useless wet hand to wipe his tears. you keep your hand on his cheek. and again, mark finds that he can hardly breathe, “i did it all… i did all of it, because i…”

mark breathes a sharp inhale, the air struggling to squeeze past the three words that remain lodged in his throat. he’s twenty-four now, and he’s still scared of the dark. but by no means is he scared of the monsters under his bed. without light, a camera has to resort to longer exposure times to piece together a full picture. without light, the human eye has to dilate to capture more of what is right in front of it. if his exposure is set too low and if his eyes fail to dilate, all that will remain will be a blurry image, uncertainty as to what was, nothing when there was actually everything.

here in this bathroom, where there is nothing but you and him and a million unsaid truths, mark finds that he is terrified of losing what’s right in front of him to the darkness. again, he is most fearful of losing you.

both of your hands now cup his cheeks, bringing his face in line with your own. he has his arms around you, and you can feel his fingers pruning on the skin of your waist. you think you have an idea of what he’s about to say, was about to say, but you’re scared he won’t say it. with nothing but a thin veil of air between your noses, you decided to help him overcome his fears.

“i think we feel the same way about each other.” please say it to me.

mark blinks, breaks the stare, looks away, upwards, to the side, “we can’t possibly feel the same…”

he sounds almost exasperated, in the most diminished sense, but you push again, “even then, i don’t mind,” just tell me you love me.

“we can’t possibly feel the same…” mark returns your gaze again, and you watch as his pupils dilate, “because there’s no way you love me as much as i love you.”

the veil of air between your two noses lifts as you lean in for a kiss. a small one. one that says, i will always love you.

of all the things water could symbolize, the water in this bathtub surrounding the two of you represents life, the life that was breathed back into your relationship. this is owed to truth, which is a funny thing for it often hides in plain sight. a year ago at the lake, where the sun had touched every surface on the face of the earth, it had not bothered to dig deeper than that. it is only in the darkness that the truth has nowhere to hide. and if mark had been fearful of the dark moments ago, it is for this reason that he isn’t anymore.

「 DAY 06, 1:18 PM 」 — LIKE WE JUST MET

the trunk of his beloved subaru crosstrek slams shut from behind. mark winces. the car door of the passenger seat slams shut shortly after. mark winces once again, and complains rather brashly, “can you not do that every time you get in my car?”

“you’re late. we’re late. can we just get going already?”

mark huffs, turning his attention to the front because the both of you are at fault. you, for not treating his baby with love and care. and him, for picking you up almost twenty minutes after he was supposed to. the wedding venue was an hour away including traffic, and now mark had only forty minutes to not jeopardize the state of his new old relationship.

he’s all but broken your neck by the time you arrive — only five minutes late — after accelerating and braking as aggressively as was necessary to get you to your destination.

while you collect your belongings, mark exits the car, straightens out his tux, and makes his way over to your side of the car, pulling the door open for you. you meet him with a glare while clambering out the car, “you’re lucky nothing’s started yet.”

with you as the maid of honor and with him as just your plus one, he spends most of the time idling around and mingling with acquaintances he hasn’t seen in ages, whilst you headed to the suites of the beachside resort to help your sister get ready. mark is shocked, more than he has been in the past week, to find out that you hadn’t told a single relative that you’d broken up with him in the first place. still, he plays his role as “boyfriend for almost three years” quite well.

throughout the rest of the day, mark notices a few things.

1) you like the venue, a lot. a summer wedding on the beach, with pastels and flowers and the wind in everyone’s hair. and since you’d commented on these things more than once, mark made sure to commit it to memory for future reference.

2) your sister made a face at you before turning around and throwing the bouquet, which you caught. did everyone think he was supposed to propose right then and there? he doesn’t know, but something about the way your sister had regarded him the whole night makes him nervous. as in the “meeting the in-laws” kind of nervous.

3) lastly, you were more beautiful that you were yesterday. but also, yesterday you were more beautiful than you were the day before. mark had recognized this ongoing phenomena ever since you’d stepped in his car, and it doesn’t seem like there’s a cap to his admiration for you. at this point, it’s like he’s just waiting for any day now where it gets out of hand and he does propose.

it’s on the dance floor where this last point becomes very apparent to him. you’re laughing at everything he’s saying, eyes beaming up at him as he sways you this way and that. when he leans down to plant a kiss to your forehead, mark swears the smile you give in return could save lives with just how radiant it is. he feels a bit silly, like he’s gone a little crazy, but mark knows that the next wedding he’s going to will be his.

and it’s as if your minds communicated on a frequency that only the other could hear, as just the next moment you whisper in his ear.

“us next?”

✧ author's life update — honestly who knew i would get back into writing ff... basically i graduated from high school, got into a few t20 colleges, lost a parent to cancer, gained a parent, lost two best friends, broke up with my long term boyfriend, got my license, turned legal, AND saw the dreamies in concert. so if anyone's wondering why i left.... i'm just glad to say i'm so bored that i'm back. and yes this fic is mostly a self-indulgent account of what i wish my relationship and family life turned out to be but the moral of this story really is: if you're emotionally unstable, seek professional help before relying too much on your s/o. unless they are, of course, mark lee.

sources wnrs card game wnrs free deck (shhh) upmc pinnacle colon and rectal surgery center brockhampton saturation ii track 16 one star relax inn review little crazy love song alley spring mill the flea holiday inn at ok my fav tea that got me thru this wendy’s in amarillo sumner lake state park svalbard wikipedia things to do at white sands national park new mexico el rey motel

#mark lee x reader #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark x reader #nct fics #nct scenarios #nct #nct x reader #mark scenarios #mark lee scenarios #nct mark lee #mark x you #lee mark #mark fluff #nct dream #nct 127 #nct u

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elisysd · 25 days

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7. It's always one step forward and three steps back

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: 1 step forward, 3 steps back - Olivia Rodrigo

Warm. You were intensely warm. You started to move a little in the very comfortable bed, not wanting to open your eyes yet. You snuggled deeper into your pillow before feeling it moving and something pulling you closer. Your eyes fluttered open. It took a few seconds for you to register your environment and suddenly you understood. Your pillow was a very strong chest, moving in sync to his breathing. And what pulled you closer was his arm, snaked around your waist. And now, you were very awake and conscious of each of your movements. You felt panic wash over you and you almost jumped out of bed, waking up Charles in the process. You didn’t even look at him, throwing a jumper on yourself and putting a sweatpant over your pair of shorts.

“Y/N? What the hell?” Charles mumbled, getting up as well to come closer to you.

“Mistake. Fucking, stupid mistake. You and me. In that bed. How can I be so stupid?” you frantically replied, getting your suitcases and making your way to the door, only to be stopped by Charles, grabbing your arm and forcing you to face him.

“Nothing happened. We just slept. Nothing more. We just invaded each other's spaces, it happens. It doesn’t mean a thing. Just calm down.” he reassured you.

“It’s… still. It’s unprofessional. From my side. We work in the same environment, it’s wrong. Wrong on so many levels…”

“You’re overthinking this.”

“Quite the opposite actually, I think I’m the one seeing the situation in a clear way.” you contradicted him.

“Okay, fine, if you say so. And where are you going to go?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, making you blush at the sight.

“I… I’ll figure it out.” you stuttered.

He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“You can keep the room.. I’ll stay with Joris.” he simply said.

You could see that you hurt him somehow and it made your heart ache. It was the last thing you wanted.

“I don’t want to kick you out of your room… especially when you so kindly offered me to stay…”

You could almost see the wheels in his head turning full speed.

“Well… you did tell me that you could show me around. What do you think about spending the day together, so you can calm down, and at the end of it, if you still want to leave, I’ll make the arrangements.”

You nodded. You just hoped it wouldn't end in a disaster.

You started with a coffee in Central Park and as you walked down the paths, you found it surprisingly easy how the awkwardness of the morning had vanished. You talked about many things, mostly mundane and about your hobbies. He learned how much you liked photography, something he was trying to get himself into, he told you all about piano and how it was relaxing him when he was not racing. He talked about his family a lot and how spending quality time with them was everything to him. Around lunch you end up in a little Italian restaurant and the conversation was still flowing easily between you.

“I love fashion. I know it doesn’t look like it but I would love to have my own brand one day. I want to design things.”

“At least, when it happens, it will be your own disastrous fashion attempts. You won’t be able to hide behind a brand.” you teased him as he threw bread crumbs on your face to annoy you.

“What would be your biggest dream activity? And you can’t tell me that you are already living it.” he asked and you paused, taking your time to answer.

“I think I would love to have a podcast. I would love to have conversations with people who work in the shadows, you know.”

“What is stopping you?”

“My job. I can’t start another activity that could potentially create a conflict with what I’m already doing. So… maybe one day, far away in the future.” you explained.

“You would be amazing as a host.”

It stopped you dead in your tracks and you looked at him. He was serious, there was no humor in his reply, no judgment, just a genuine trust in your abilities.

“Thank you… it means a lot.”

“You might be insufferable from time to time but you know how to make people comfortable. Even if it’s to make them relive their worst nightmares.” he winked.

You kept talking that day, getting to know each other on a deeper level, far away from the tracks and the image both of you had to keep up. And it felt nice. You laughed, he teased you, you talked about your lives, you talked about what you loved and what kept you up at night. Later as the moon was high in the sky and you were coming back to your hotel, Charles told you that you could keep his room.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m going to the Yankees’ game tomorrow. Would you like to join? I might need someone to explain the rules to me.”

“I would love to.”

And the next day was probably one of the best days for you in a long time. You got along quite well with his brothers and friends and the day went by in a blink of an eye. As you were about to part ways in the lobby, he turned to you.

“I had a really nice time here with you.”

“Me too.” you smiled.

“Does that mean that we are friends now?” he shyly asked.

“And I would be more than happy to be your friend, Charles.”

He didn’t intend to, but the warm feeling in his chest made him make a step forward and engulf you in a hug, which you reciprocated to his surprise. He stuttered, looked at you and you noticed how his cheeks were starting to get more and more pink as you could feel your do the same.

“Well, good night… See you around? In Imola?” he said.

“Most definitely.”

Coming back to Paris after the wonderful break that New-york had been for you felt weird and soon you caught up in your daily routine, except that texting Charles was now a new addition to it. You were going through editorial board meetings after editorial board meetings, preparing the next races with Jean and Marion as well as Isabel and Morgan who were part of the team but weren’t joining you on race weekends. You liked to work with everyone, they felt like a second family to you. But in between meetings and during each coffee break you couldn’t help but text Charles. Whether it was about a stupid doubt in your mind about reglementation or a quick question about how his day was going, you were always shocked to see how fast he was replying to you, no matter how busy he was. This unexpected friendship felt nice and might have been exactly what you needed at this point in your life.

“Who are you texting that makes you smile like that?” Jean asked, an espresso in her hand as you just got out of a quick editorial briefing.

“No one in particular…” you bit your lips.

“A boyfriend?”

“Oh gosh no. I mean, he is a friend. I suppose.”

“You suppose? Shouldn't you be sure?”

“It’s… Can I ask you something personal?”

“Of course.” Jean reassured you.

“You are friends with some drivers, right? How do you do that to not impact your job?”

Jean looked at you as your leg started to bounce from anxiety.

“Well… I’ve never really got to think about that. It came quite naturally. When you love your job and are passionate about it, I think it’s easy. As long as you don’t overthink the way you do your job, that you stick to the reasons that led you to choose this life, then it’s easy. It becomes harder if you start to have strong bonds with some. I was close to Jules Bianchi and his family, I still am. I was there when he got into his crash. It was probably the toughest and most traumatizing experience in my career.”

“How did you do it?”

“You stick to the facts. No less and no more. You do what you know best and you stick to it.”

“Do you regret it? Becoming friends with Jules, I mean…”

“Never. Besides being a great source of information, I got to learn so many things by his side and meet other people. It’s all about finding balance. You know, when you’re in the paddock, browsing for information, asking questions… you’re not totally the same person as you are out of there. You have a mask of professionalism. The drivers are the same.”

And he was right. You had observed it with Charles. And he had already told you how different you were from your journalist persona. Maybe Jean was right and overthinking the situation would only create issues where they weren’t needed.

On your way home that day, you had decided that you would stop putting barriers between your relationships and what you thought was right. It was stupid and prevented you from being happy. Charles made you happy, Mick, Esteban and Pierre as well. And truth be told, Luc would be disappointed in yourself to not jump on the occasion to get closer to his idols. Alone in your flat, the TV on, you started to pack for Imola until you got a text from Charles.

I’m not sure the race will happen. A risk of flooding is set on Imola’s area.

Are they canceling the race?

Not yet.

You were about to reply when your phone vibrated and Charles’ name popped on your screen.

“Three hours of being caught in traffic and four diversions. That’s how bad it is. The F2 paddock is literally under water. I don't see how it could get better. We would need a miracle for the race.” he explained.

“You could have told me that over a text you know… you didn’t need to call me. Although I’m happy to hear from you.”

“I know… I just needed to express my frustration out loud.”

“What does the organization say about the situation?” you asked, your journalistic instincts taking over.

“Nothing. They are waiting to see if the alert is about to be lifted or not. It’s stupid. It’s endangering people. Anyway… how are you doing?”

“Good. Busy preparing the maybe non race weekend” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“I bet. If by miracle Imola was to happen, are you down for a coffee or a walk or anything really… I need to get my mind out of the season.” he sighed.

“Getting your mind out of it by hanging out with someone whose whole job revolves around covering the season?”

“I want to talk to my lovely friend. Not to the annoying journalist.”

“I can be that.”

“What? Annoying, believe me, I know.” you could hear the laugh in his voice.

“No! Lovely, idiot.”

“I know that too. You’re cute.”

You felt your cheeks reddened and a deafening silence on the other end of the line.

“I mean… cute in a puppy way. Not in a sexy and attractive way… not that you are not sexy and attractive. Not to me. I’m sure there are plenty of guys out there that could fancy you.” he quickly added as you were hoping the floor would swallow you whole. “You know what I mean?”

“Not really, no.”

“Just… forget I said anything, yeah?”

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

After Imola had been canceled, just like how Charles had predicted it, the next stop of the season was Monaco, also known as the busiest time for you. In absence of a French GP, Monaco was now the closest of a homerace than it could be, meaning you were busier than ever. It was going to be a big weekend and you were really excited. You barely had time for yourself as when you were not working, you were texting Charles who was almost as busy as you were. But as the week was progressing and the Grand Prix was right around the corner, communication died down.

Indeed, Charles was swamped with interviews and sponsoring events from left to right and it was only when he was alone in his flat that he could check on his phone, sadder than what he was supposed to be when he noticed that you had stopped texting him. It was stupid, he knew how busy you were and it was unfair to ask from you to be there for him when he knew that he couldn’t do the same for you. And you were just friends, not that close even if over the last weeks he felt like he had started to know you on a deep level and you could say the same about him. He didn’t really understand why he felt so bothered not talking to you and he reassured himself thinking he would see you in the paddock.

But you weren’t there on media day, busy shooting reports in the streets of Monaco, nor were you here during Free Practices as you were covering the F2 sessions. He didn’t try to overthink and focused on the qualifyings the next day, sure that you would be there to welcome him in the media pen. But you weren’t, Marion was. He quickly asked Silvia if she knew why it was not you and she shrugged.

His home race’s weekend was starting a bit too well for his liking and as if fate had heard his doubts, the penalty dropped as he was heading out. Saying he was mad was an understatement. It was unfair, he knew he didn’t deserve it, not like this and it’s defeated that he met Arthur, at their mom’s house. Arthur was no better than him, he was not proud of his driving so far.

“I feel like I’m a failure. I don’t deserve my seat there and people are starting to be more and more vocal about that…” he confessed to Charles.

“Shut up. You do. And the ones who are saying you don’t are stupid. They don’t matter.”

“I want to make dad proud, Charles.”

“I know. I do too. And I promise you we will. We are going to give our all tomorrow. For him.” Charles assured.

But both races for the brothers ended up pretty badly for different reasons. Arthur had to DNF and Charles, retrograded in P6 after his penalty stayed in this position throughout the whole race. No actions, nothing. just a boring race and one he wanted to forget. But as he was heading to the media pen, he noticed you and suddenly, he felt better. He walked confidently to you and gave you a smile, that you reciprocated. He was about to answer confidently when he heard your first question.

“P6 for you today Charles after your penalty and another home Grand Prix that is not going as expected. Do you start to believe that you might get cursed after all?”

“I.. I… Well, I think it’s just a matter of circumstances. We tried our best to fight with everyone but it wasn’t enough.”

“Do you envision the possibility of you never winning Monaco?”

“Of course not! I’ll always give my all here and I know that one day it will pay off.” he answered a bit more harshly than what he intended. He didn’t understand where your questions were coming from. It was just like at the beginning of the season and it seemed that all the progress that you both had made were vanishing and your relationship back to square one. He didn’t even glance at you as he walked out of the media pen, even more frustrated than when he got in.

Once the post race meeting was over, he wandered around the paddock, trying to search for you and determined to find answers. He wanted to know why you had been so aggressive with your questions. He knew that the chances were high that you would still be around but despite his best attempts, you were nowhere to be seen and that angered him even more.

To let loose and as it was now a tradition, Charles and a few of his closest friends went out clubbing. It was one of the moments he was waiting for the most during the Grand Prix weekend and today, more than ever, he needed it. Other drivers were there as well. Pierre and his girlfriend Kika, Alex with Lily and George with Carmen, making him feel more single than ever.

“I’m not in the mood to see so many happy couples tonight.” he complained to Joris at the bar.

“Well that could be easily arranged, you know. There are so many girls who are waiting in line for you. Just pick one.”

“You know that I’m not that kind of guy. I need to feel a connection with someone.”

“Come on, man. After this weekend I think you deserve to enjoy yourself.”

Charles sighed and scanned the room only to see you there, talking and laughing with Mick. You seemed happy, carefree, something you only had shown to him and he admitted it, he felt jealous. Even more when Mick hugged you and he saw you reciprocating it. He clenched his jaw and drank his whiskey in one gulp. He didn’t care how he felt the liquid burning his throat, at the moment it was not worse than the burning he felt in his chest. He was so caught up watching you that he didn’t see Pierre approaching.

“There you are. I was starting to think you had gone home to be grumpy on your own.”

Charles barely made a sound to acknowledge his presence and Pierre followed his best friend’s gaze. Here you were, now on the dancefloor with Mick who was busy making you twirl around. He looked at Charles to see him clench his jaw and barely understood what was going on. He had never seen him acting like that.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure. That’s why you look like you want to see Mick buried six feet under.”

“I’m not.”

“It's okay, Charles. You can admit it. I won’t say anything or anyone.”

“There is nothing to admit.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“Fuck off, Gasly.” he finally brushed his friend off, as Joris was laughing.

He got out of the club, not feeling in the mood to party anymore. He was jealous. That was true. And he never thought that seeing you with another man would make him this angry. He wanted to be the one to make you laugh, the one to make you dance, the only one worthy of your hugs, the only one to put a bright smile on your face. And that was true, maybe his feelings were not as friendly as he thought.

You were slightly drunk, you knew it. You had spent the night laughing with Mick and Marion. You needed it. It had been a hell of a few weeks and letting loose was what you had been waiting for. On your way out, giggling as you were barely able to put one foot in front of the other, Marion joined you.

“I think it’s time for you to rest, missy.” she laughed, taking your bag out of your hands, scared you would drop it.

“How are you not drunk?”

“Experience, darling.”

She hailed a taxi and you both hopped in and made your way back to the hotel.

“Are you going to be okay on your own or do you need me to walk you to your room?” Marion asked.

“I’ll be fine.”

And you wouldn’t admit to her that you made a mistake on your floor number. When you finally made it, you were just dreaming about a nice shower and your soft bed. But when you looked up and your heart almost jumped out of your chest as you were feeling yourself sobering up rather quickly, you knew you were not getting them as soon as you hoped for. Charles was standing up in front of your door.

Author's note: An early chapter as I'm nor sure I'll be able to post tomorrow. What do you think Charles is doing here? What is he going to say?

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff

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bunnyyamor · 2 years

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[ OCTOBER 1ST ] DUMBIFICATION - LEVI ACKERMAN x fem! reader (priest au)

synopsis ; you go to confess your sins at a confessional. all your dirty, dark secrets and thoughts. father, on the opposite side, is hearing every last word. dripping with hunger, passion and plea for fucking. wc; 4k

warnings; mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, dumbification, religious themes, peccatophilia, masturbation (male & female), nicknames (most used are father and my child), dirty talk, handjob, oral sex (m!recieving), money shot, medium sized or big boobs (kinda self-indulged), boob play, spit play, bit of exhibitionism, bondage, beta read!

note; hello guys! this is my first every kinktober, i've always wanted to do this so i'm really excited to show this to you guys! i know it's quite long but i worked rlly hard on this! also i don't know much about religion stuff like this so don't kill me. and yes i know this propt is popular on tiktok i did get it from there.

-nav : kinktober m.list : kinktober taglist

you sat there, promptly defeated on a bench. waiting for the hour to strike 12 in the afternoon.

“12 is when I will go. I promise, God.” you bit your lip as you passed crumb after crumb of bread, mindlessly throwing each weightless piece of toast onto the floor for the birds that chirped by.

you hated yourself. you loathed who you were. you felt disgusting, vile, unclean. why would you touch yourself that way? you dreamt about men. the way they looked and smelled, how it would feel for them to touch you in all the wrong places. wrong in the eyes of the church but right in yours.

“no!” you shook yourself, free from those thoughts. “i don’t, i can’t.” you couldn’t help yourself. the need was greater than wants and thoughts. it was shadowing your mind and using you like a puppet with a master, you were following its very strings of sin.

you had to take control. take the matter by the horns and burn out the burning flame that lit inside you once and for all.

the church’s bells rang. it was many stories high and it was built of brick. there was a cross big enough for everyone to see.

with each step you took the more you grew hotter, sweating with nerves. you would have to come to terms with your condition. you would have to tell father the truth. it was embarrassing but it is what needed to happen.

as you opened the heavy doors of the church you saw that not many people were there today. that gave you some relief.

in the distance you saw the priest, father levi. he was reading the bible with some other men, perhaps giving them a voice of wisdom as well.

“poor thing,” you thought to yourself as you saw his eye. due to the accident he had a big scar on his face. you chuckled to yourself as you remembered your friend’s words about father levi. she always said he was fuckable and sexy. you couldn't deny, for being a priest he sure was sublime.

you inched closer, waiting for him to be finished with his conversation.

“um, father levi.” you inched closer, saying in just above a whisper.

levi sent the men away and held your shoulder in a loving manner, smiling. he was carrying a rosary laced around his fingers and hands.

“yes my child, what can i do for you?”

“i must confess.” you twiddled with your thumbs.

“oh, of course. right this way.” he led you to a confessional. there you leaned against the wood while he went to the opposite side in the dim light. due to the little holes in the pattern design of the wood you could still make out his face and sharp jaw.

your heart was pounding and all you could smell was him. he smelled of a wood smell. very masculine.

you looked around you and noticed it was just you and levi. of course it was that way, confessionals were deemed secret and the information should be kept private. very good.

“please my daughter, state your name. what seems to be weighing you down?”

“oh, yes. my name is y/n i-”

“beautiful name,” he interrupted.

your eyes widened and you could make out his light smile turning more down to him playing with the beads of the rosary. his eyes glossing over each piece of jewel.

“thank you. anyways, i have been having thoughts.”

“thoughts?” he asked again, sitting up more this time and having his ear pressed closer to your side.

“yes, thoughts. sinful thoughts.”

“please, explain these thoughts to me in full detail. be very specific.” in that moment he changed. his eyes became slits and his smile was now a smirk, thumb rubbing his chin in thought. “i’m listening little one.”

“yes, right. so the thoughts are dirty thoughts. it’s about men and how i feel about them.”

“go on,” his voice was deep.

you sighed, he probably thought you were a monster. “i dream almost every night about men having sex with me. i dream about them touching me, down there,” you inhale, “about them pounding inside me that i can’t even scream anymore. them licking my nipples to down on my clit, flicking it back and forth, taking me right then and there. then their slithering tongues go deep inside me, entering in and out without any questions asked. i dream about their cocks going inside me, how their cum would glisten on the outside and peak up from excitement. how their veins would look. god it looks so delicious i want to put my whole mouth around it. i want to lick it up and down and never stop, i want to suck it and drink his milk whole, not letting a drop be wasted. i want him inside me, pounding inside me nonstop. i want it on my bed, on the table, in the bath, everywhere, even in church! i want him to slap me, choke me, whatever he wants but just don’t stop. i am filled with this desire, this unstoppable passion. when i think of this i then go and touch myself.”

levi nodded. his eyes that were on his rosary finally looked at you and you realized that the whole speech you gave his eyes were looking into your eyes. deep in your eyes. you felt embarrassed. “i know i should be ashamed.” you brushed him away, bashful.

“no, these are the thoughts of us imperfect humans. even myself, i get that way.”

“you do?”

levi nodded, “yes my love. i desire the touch of a woman too.”

“i thought you were perfect.”

“nobody is perfect except God, little one. we are all just sinners waiting to become devils.”

the air was quiet, “i’m sorry you feel that way sometimes. i know with you, you can never marry nor have relations. that must be difficult.”

he just chuckled, licking his lips. “enough about me. tell me more. remember i said be specific. tell me, what do you do when you touch yourself?”

the air felt different this time. “well,” you started. you didn’t know why but your hands were starting to trail lower. “i go to my room and lock my door. when i lay down on my bed, i discard my panties and open my legs wide. so wide i can feel the cool air go and make me sensitive.”

“go on,” he ordered. you heard him unzip something and the sound of skin slapping. was he? “yes, what else.”

“i imagine what i told you, yes. as i think about those thoughts my hand goes to my nipples. playing and flicking them. i even wet my fingers to wet the bud. it gets hard and makes me feel so good but i need more.”

“yes,” levi moaned out.

“yes,” you groaned too as your hands were traveling to your panties at this exact moment. you pulled your panties to the side and were playing with your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves back and forth and in circles. your legs were starting to shake.

“i then lick my fingers again, getting them nice and wet and start to go further down. i go open up my folds and play with my clit. i flick it slowly at first then hard back and forth. it feels like a delicious fire burning sensation building up within me. like a dam waiting to be broken. and once it is all wet and gushing with need, i then stick my finger inside.” in that moment you did exactly that. you stuck a finger inside and pushed it back and forward.

“i finger myself steady at first, then i add more fingers and go faster and faster. my end is spilling everything and it is gushing all over my sheets. the dam has been broken and now the floodgates part.”

you could hear levi stifle a groan as his hands were moving up and down his shaft. you peeked through the confessional and could see his legs wide with his thick cock. his hands wrapped around it moving up and down. while you were standing, knees together with a finger inside you.

you heard levi getting wetter and wetter. it was slick. you were practically drooling seeing father levi like this and in shock. shocked because you thought he was a man of faith. you never thought you would be doing this of all days. levi grunted, “i have seen you before, my little one. i have noticed the way you walk, talk, how engaged you are in the lord. how you beg for mercy. how you get on your knees. the way you smell,” you heard the priest inhale and exhale. “god forgive me for what i am about to do,” he told himself rather than you. “i couldn’t get you out of my mind, lord help me. you possessed my inner spirit, haunting me to be controlled by the devil himself and god do i try, did i try.”

“wh-what are you saying?” your mouth was shaped into an o. surprised to hear his inner thoughts. “you noticed me?”

“no matter what i did. what i do. i ask god to stop making me have these thoughts. the thoughts to ravage you like a wild beast.” levi practically growled.

you could tell in the dim light the priest fell to his knees.

“father god, please help me for i am about to sin. please excuse me for you have put a siren in my path. i must taste her, feel her. i don’t know any other way. why must you torment me? there is no other way, i must have her, she is mine. please god forgive me.”

what was he about to do?

all of a sudden, the window to the confessional opened up, “my child, you have done wrong. i must be able to extinguish the fire within you. i am the only one who can.”

you could make out his handsome features. his eye was scarred and only made him more attractive. maybe he was right. it’s not that you needed him to take out the fire within you, you wanted him to, more than anything.

“yes, i’ll do whatever you say father.” you looked up at him, innocently.

“good, my beautiful angel,” his fingers caressed your chin. you noticed him inhaling your scent, eyes rolling back. his face inched close so that his lips were now on top of yours. it was sweet at first, kisses upon kisses. then he deepened the kiss, mouth getting wider for each open mouthed kiss. it was like war, a war against god and the devil. two imperfect people. levi grabbed the back of your head to get closer to your lips. teeth gnashing, tongue diving, you felt your head spinning. you grabbed onto his cloak to become steady. you knew he must have done this before. passion overwhelmed you both, it became embers in your soul. the kiss was your high, making you loopy and pleading for him to fuck you already.

“i need you.” your eyes begged.

he helped you to get on your knees and you heard a zip of his pants. he stuck out his cock, right in front of your face, through the confessional window.

“go ahead, beautiful, touch it.” it was limp but still a good size. the color, the thickness, it all made you want to touch it, lick it, worship it.

you wrapped your hands around his shaft and started doing motions up and down. his cock was getting stiffer by the minute and even precum was dribbled at the tip.

without even to levi’s knowledge you dipped your lips to the precum and licked that delicious cream. at that moment you knew who’s side you were on and it didn’t matter if you were thrown into the fiery pits of hell, you would go with open arms for this cock.

levi’s eyes widened at your action and hummed. “fuck, that feels good, keep doing that.”

you nodded. you squeezed tighter around his dick and spat on it to lube it up.

levi moaned, seeing your flushed self on your knees for him. here you were all for him. eyes looking up between thick lashes as you never broke eye contact, neither did he.

you started to lick his hole, flickering your tongue. he groaned and grunted, hands placed on your head.

you smirked as your tongue dragged slowly from his balls to his tip.

“fuck me,” he breathed out, lightly grinding his hips.

you started at his pubes and skin above his groin and noticed veins there like muscle. that made you want to fuck him harder. you were so turned on.

you continued licking while also giving him a handjob. his brow was furrowed and creating a bit of sweat above the brow.

you delved back and gently teased his ball sack, wanting to feel every inch of him.

“holy god, good job my child.”

your left hand slowly delved lower on yourself. you collected his seed from his cock and wanted it mixed with your juices. you went lower and lower and finally reached your pussy. you fingered yourself 2 fingers. mixing both fluids. it made you hitch a breath.

your mouth all of sudden opened wide and wrapped fully around levi’s erect cock. it was glorious. levi couldn’t get enough. seeing you fully wrapped around him, your mouth full of his cock, it made him want to thank god that you were born.

he couldn’t control the urge any longer and became the devil himself.

“just like that,” he grabbed the back of your head and made you choke and gag on his shaft. you gurgled his cum, it all laying at the base of his dick.

you started gurgling as levi was relentless.

“hmmm, you taste so fuckin good.” you praised him. “please give me your dick, please. i need it.”

“you like begging? you dumb, inoccent child. you want to be begged to be fucked?”

you nodded and whined, “please-”

you were cut off by levi lifting his leg against the ledge and pistoning his hip. his dick was fucking your mouth. he used you as a hole.

“that’s it, wider love. take me all in, good girl.”

your eyes were starting to cross from how delicious he was and big, “so wide…” tears pooled in your eyes. your eyebrows becoming downturned in innocence and submissiveness. “i give myself to you father.”

“good girl,” he went so far that your nose met with his dark pubes. he stayed there for a minute, loving the way you gagged. “that’s it.”

you had to control your breathing and breathe through your nose.

he exited out of you and you found your breath again, heaving. your fingers entered inside you at a faster pace. your squelching was becoming louder.

“shit,” levi uttered as he started to jack himself off. “open.”

it was an order. you found your g-spot and pumped your fingers inside you as if your life depended on it. you opened your mouth wide and there levi cummed inside your mouth. it was a lot. heavy white loads dripping inside your cavity.

“swallow,” he whispered, bending over to your face, biting your ear and licking your neck.

you gulped it all down and held your mouth open, already wanting more. your tongue was seeped out, your mouth used. you stood there stupid silly, pussy dripping but not reached an orgasm yet.

“look at you, almost looking like a whore.” he grabbed your chin, licking it, sucking your lips wanting to taste himself. he bit your neck.

“but, what about me?”

“come this way, child. i must purify you, in front of the lord.

it was the auditorium room. the area where prayers and lectures were given. where the bible was read and god was at.

it was the room where the priest was going to fuck you.

inside were many booths. a stage and behind the stage was a colored stained glass of the cross.

levi led you up the stage and you noticed how magical it was.

“confess your sins, child.”

you went on your knees in front of him. eyes switching from his eyes to his bulge, it was already growing again.

“i confess i want to fuck.” you clasp your hands together, god as your witness in front of the cross. the multi colored rainbow light danced on your face, lighting your eyes, giving you a halo effect. levi knew at that moment you were no human. no you were an angel in disguise, placed on this wretched earth. so for that, fucking you sensless was no sin it was a blessing.

“who do you want to fuck?” levi inched closer, hands carressing your face.

“you, father.” your lips pushed out, only 2 words.

“i know you do not lie. i shall purify you with holy water to take your sins away.”

levi grabbed some holy water and doused a bit on your head. it dripped down to your dress, tightening the fabric and hardening your nipples. levi’s breath hitched and you opened your eyes to see his eyes peeled to your nipples. your white dress was becoming sheer and the color of your areola showed through. your dress was sticking to your skin.

“god,” levi bit his fist.

you got some holy water and pushed it around your tits. the sound of the water and fabric making squelching sounds and your boobs jiggled and swished like waves. bouncing with each massage you gave them.

you looked ahead of you, right in front of your eyes levi’s bulge getting bigger, his trousers getting tighter. his eyes never left your breasts, in fact he didn’t even blink, he never wanted to look away.

“in the name of the son,” he poured water. “father,” he poured more on your head, “and holy spirit.” he put the cup near his lips, took a sip and stepped closer to you. he opened your mouth, his thumb pressing on top of your tongue. your head went back as levi spat the holy water in your mouth. you took it all in your wide mouth. levi dripped his drool inside, wanting you to have every piece of him. he spat in your mouth and you licked it all in, licking your lips.

“fuck me,” levi growled as he picked you up. your body laying against over his shoulders and he dropped you onto a table for all the priests and holy people. it was in front of the cross, right against it. jesus was staring right at you. with disgust or pity or passion you didn’t know but in that moment you didn’t care, he was a figment of your imagination in that split second.

levi laid your back against the wood table. boobs bouncing with each movement.

“i can’t take this torture anymore. i must have that pussy.” he pounded the table, creating a loud thunder in the room.

“what if someone were to come in?”

levi kissed the side of your face, inhaled your scent and started peeling your dress off your shoulders, “let them. let them see me fucking an angel of god.”

you groaned as levi took both your hands and lifted them up like if you were on a stake. hands bound together he wrapped his rosary around your hands. you were cuffed. they were tight around your wrist. “you are all mine. and i’m going to fuck you until you can see heaven.” he promised.

you held your legs tightly together, already wet. levi licked his lips and slipped your dress showing your breasts. they popped out and were displayed in the cool air. levi breathed against the nipples and gently tickled them. they peaked out and levi rolled the bud in between his finger and thumb.

“beautiful, like a saint. like an idol to worship.” he continued playing with them, entranced. his mouth then dove in, eating them like a beast. his tongue flicked against them, moaning loud, as if holding something in for a long time. he hummed as his lips wrapped around one then the other, licking them and slobbering on them.

you jerked back and forth, groaning. hips thrusting to feel some sort of friction against your cunt. you couldn’t touch yourself or him because they were held back by a rosary. “god, levi i need you.”

“patience is one of the fruits of the spirit my dear. patience.” he smiled. he tickled your nipples for the last time.

he grabbed your white dress, needing you now and ripped the material. ripped it right in the middle as it pooled around your ankles. he swiftly flung it away and there you laid for him, like a meal. like jesus last meal. your breasts were perked up and your legs were held together, shy.

“let me see, baby.” he groaned, his voice deep as he parted your legs with his leg. “open wide for me so i can see heaven’s gate.”

you looked to the side and opened up your legs as wide as you could go.

levi exhaled. there in front of him was the impossible. it was the forbidden fruit. you were the forbidden fruit. your juicy pussy was glistening wet. your folds only being held together by slick, sticking cream. you closed it in and out. your clit was swollen and looked delicious to levi.

levi knelt to your opening and sniffed your cunt. “ripe and ready.” he grabbed more holy water and spat some of it on your sensitive pussy.

you moaned as levi took off his clothes, leaving him naked. “i’m going to make you feel so good.” he huskily said.

his tip tapped your cunt, ready for entrance and slowly he dipped inside you. inch by inch his cock filled you up.

“oh my god!” you shouted, already shaking from being filled up. it felt like heaven. his cock felt like salvation. “right there.”

levi couldn’t help it any longer. he didn’t go slow paced like a normal person would. no he needed you. the passion. the thoughts and prayers. the long nights filled with unholy visions. “god forgive me.” he held your hands steady and in a moment started pulling in and out of you. pistoning in and out. your mouth was wide open, eyes crossed as his cock dragged itself.

levi was fucking you like a wild animal. needing to feel your tightness and you needing to feel full.

you tried to hold in your cries but you couldn’t. your head hung back in a loud moan. tears were pooling around your eyes. levi was fucking you silly. you couldn't remember a single thing and didn’t want to feel anything else except this feeling. feeling stuffed.

“levi, fuck.” you bounced up and down, breasts clapping from each hump he pounded inside you. cum was dripping down between your ass.

drool was slipping from the side of your mouth. you were a gurgling mess and the tears mixed with your spit.

“right there. do you like how this feels, you dirty girl? would god be pleased with how much you beg for this cock. baptized in my cum?”

you gave a goofy smile, feeling your pussy tighten around his cock. “right there please. please please!” you begged. you could feel his cock tapping your g-spot.

“you like this? right there? how good does it feel? how many times have you wanted this?”

“all my life! everyday!” your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“you would worship this cock wouldn't you?”

you nodded as levi went even faster and further. cum collecting at the base of his cock. the noise from his cock drenched in your pussy, squelching as it echoed.

you looked to your side to see jesus and all of the eyes of the angels on you. it made you get even more turned on.

“levi, i’m gonna cum!”

levi hunched over you and brought your left nipple in his mouth and he pounded inside you relentlessly. over and over, nonstop. you tried to scream but you couldn’t. your scream was clouded and silent except for the veins protruding from your neck.

1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2, thats how the pace went. back and forth, in and out.

“oh my god,” you cried. levi’s hips went closer to your groin. skin to skin.

“right there,” you held him against you, milking him for all what he was worth. finally, you came, crying and whining. levi did too at that moment. his cum erupting like the red sea.

he humped a little to make sure you got all his seed.

it dripped inside you. your legs were shaking and you bit your lip in satisfaction, drool seeping out the side of your mouth.

“you dumb little whore,” levi chuckled darkly as he kissed you again. breathing harshly in your ear. “we shall keep doing this over and over in hell.”

you kissed back and bit levi’s lips, “well in that case it won’t be so much like hell, it’ll be more like heaven.”

taglist: @sailewhoremoon, @luvkun4, @neonlavander, @moonbabysstuff, @smellsliketequila, @auds-dal19

#cry baby *🧸*#levi smut #attack on titan smut #levi ackerman smut #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi #levi ackerman x you #aot smut #aot x you #levi x y/n #aot x fem!reader #attack on titan x female reader #levi ackerman x y/n

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queerxqueen · 2 years

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byler crumbs from the cast & crew masterpost w/ sources

I’ve freaked out as these moments have happened over the months but I thought I’d track down and compile it all with the sources to give my fellow Bylers a daily dose of optimism.

About Will

David Harbour & Finn Wolfhard - “He’s interested in someone else in the group.” “Yeah, you’ll see soon who he’s interested in.” “Very interested.” (x)

Noah Schnapp - “I don’t think it just came to be, they’re very smart, the Duffers, they outline everything from the beginning. ... They definitely know where they want to go with Will.” (x)

Duffer Brothers - And Will’s sexuality will be [addressed in vol. 2]...? “--Yes!” (x)

Noah Schnapp - “It was always kind of there, but you never really knew, is it just him growing up slower than his friends? Now that he’s gotten older, they made it a very real, obvious thing. Now it’s 100% clear that he is gay and he does love Mike.” (x)

About Mike

Finn Wolfhard - “I think Mike’s just trying to be as normal as possible, and try to keep on a normal path. He might be into some new things, he might be a little more rebellious this year.” (x)

Finn Wolfhard - “There’s a lot of things they both have to learn about themselves, Eleven and Mike, especially for Mike, in order to have proper, like, the love Eleven wants him to give, and in all his relationships in general. It’s kind of a coming of age story within this crazy horror thing.” (x)

Finn Wolfhard - “I think Mike, like, learns a lot about himself, and a lot about how he sees his relationships with people, and yeah… a lot of understanding and growth.” (x)

Finn Wolfhard - “This season is about personal self growth when it comes to Mike and Eleven’s relationship. I think they’re finding out a lot about themselves that they wouldn’t normally know.” (x)

About Mike & Will

Finn Wolfhard - “Yeah. I think you find out slowly through the season, Will’s kind of love towards Mike and I think it’s a really beautiful thing.” How will Mike handle that? “I don’t think he really knows, I think he’s pretty clueless, but I think there’s a mu- probably a mutual understanding and acceptance.” (x)

Finn Wolfhard - *gets super flustered and keeps looking off screen when asked about Byler* “I don’t know, I’m not sure, I wouldn’t know, I, um, I don’t know really, ‘cause, um, we’re pretty early and. I’m not sure, yeah.” (x)

Charlie Heaton - “There’s definitely moments this season where they [Will & Mike] have been closer, and obviously the poster, he [Jonathan] notices he [Will] doesn’t give it to him [Mike].” (x)

Noah Schnapp - “Obviously Byler is just at its peak right now, they’re building that up, so definitely ship that.” (x)

Noah Schnapp - “They have to keep going, they can’t just end it there. In episode 8 you see Mike and him talk, it’s pretty sad. Then in episode 9 there’s an amazing scene…. you’ll have to see.” (x)

Noah Schnapp - Describes season 4 as “unexpected” and “romantic.” (x)

Noah Schnapp - “I mean, I think he wants his friend, obviously. They kind of lost that, they’re obviously super distant. But I think they’re hinting at something a little more, so I guess we’ll have to sit and see.” (x)

Little Details Matter in Stranger Things

Shawn Levy, Executive Producer - “I’ll just say that there aren’t many accidents on ‘Stranger Things,' ... There is clear intention and strategy and real thought given to each and every character. So, if you came away from Volume 1 feeling those bread crumbs of plot and character, it’s probably no accident.” (x)

Dean Zimmerman, Editor - “Like anything, it’s all those invisible decisions, those millions of decisions we make every day. Should I hang on this this long, should I cut to something, you know?” (x)

Amy Parris, Costume Designer - “So, even if you don’t see a detail, it’s there!” (x)

Amy Parris, Costume Designer - [About Robin,] “I added some triangles and equality symbols to kind of have an easter egg that there’s some LGBTQ+ imagery.” (x)

Jeff T, Subtitles Author - [About “tender emotional music” subtitle] “But going back to the leitmotifs, I really liked using ‘tender emotional music plays.’ Because it’s like, ‘Oh, it’s Joyce and Hopper,’ and it connects these moments of intimacy between characters. Our captions don’t have to be flashy, but they have to speak to the truth of the moment, and I really enjoyed using that consistently.” (x)

Leading toward Season 5

Duffer Brothers - "Going back to the original group of boys plus Eleven, the OG group. And again that's kind of setting up us coming full circle back to season 1 and you'll see that with a couple of the character arcs, not just with Will. Things are not fully resolved. The characters have maybe made steps but the journey isn't over yet and all of that is gonna play a huge role as we wrap this thing up.” (x)

#byler #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st cast #noah schnapp #finn wolfhard #mike wheeler #will byers #like i couldnt find the one of charlie heaton saying a byler scene made him emotional slash tear up #so pls help me find that one especially #idc so much about ones just confirming will is gay like WE KNOW THAT ALREADY #cast crumbs #1k+

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ellesliterarycorner · 2 years

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Tips for Writing Plot Twists

Well, after a very long, unexpected House of the Dragon fandom break, we are now back to our regularly scheduled writing program! Funnily enough, this is kind of House of the Dragon related because today we are talking about writing plot twists. And not just any plot twists, plot twists that make sense and don’t leave your reader wanting to pull their hair out and throw your book across the room. Writing plot twists is a lot harder than it looks. I know that when I read a book with a great plot twists that I actually didn’t see coming, I always wanna give the writers a little round of applause because that is impressive my friends. Especially in the day and age of super common tropes and readers’ having particular expectations, it’s always nice when there’s a new innovative twist out there. Worry not, here are a few simple twists that will help you on your way to writing the best plot twist for your story!

WWTRD??

What would the reader do, my friends? In order to write a good plot twist, you need to try and put yourself in the shoes of the reader who will actually be reading this. This might seem like a pretty obvious tip, but it’s one of the most simple and effective ones out there! As you’re going through your story or even your outline, write down all of the ways that you would normally expect the story to go. What potential twists and turns immediately come to mind? Write every single one of those down and then make sure that your plot twist does not include any of them. Especially if you read and write in the same genre (like I do, fantasy and sci-fi all the way), then your brain probably works in the same way as most of your readers. Like I mentioned above, people who always read in the same genre are used to the conventions and standards of their genre. Unfortunately for us writers, that makes it a lot harder to come up with a plot twist. I recommend looking at the list of plot twists that we’re going to throw out and writing down the opposite of all of those. That’s always good advice, imo. If you feel like your story is getting too predictable, take it in the complete opposite direction. When even you’re surprised by what’s going on, you’re on the right track!

Bread Crumbs a la Hansel and Gretel

The original versions of fairytales are absolutely terrifying. I had to look into them for one of my English classes and boy, oh boy, childhood = ruined. Anyways, just like Hansel and Gretel with their little bread crumbs, you want to subtly guide the readers’ attention away from any potential plot twist, so the twist is all the more surprising. You always want to make your readers think they know what’s going on, then flip all of that on its head. There are a lot of different tools that you can use to do that like red herrings, false flags, or other types of MacGuffins. These decoys deliberately plant false clues, or other misinformation that leads the reader in the wrong direction. Sometimes, they even lead the reader to even think they have reached the happy ending only to reveal their devious nature. HOWEVER, you will noticed that subtly is bolded above because please remember the subtly. This is another one of my big problems with YA fiction because some YA writers seem to think that kids are like legitimately stupid. That’s why I don’t think, imo, there’s been a YA book with an absolutely great plot twist in a while because YA writers tend to spoon-fed their readers everything and try too hard to steer readers in the wrong direction. Readers notice when writers do this, and you don’t want it to happen.

BFFR

Be fricken for real, guys, and that means not only ensuring that your plot twist is believable and necessary but also MAKES SENSE. Plot twists making sense is a problem that seems to have popped up in the last five years in all genres not just YA, I would say. Authors seem to focus a lot on the part of the definition of plot twists that says sudden, unexpected and shocking change of direction whilst ignoring the part that includes realistic and reasonable. To me, the realistic and reasonable part is almost more important. If a super unpredictable plot twist pops up out of nowhere without even relating to the story, of course I’m gonna be surprised. Does that mean I’m going to be surprised? No, it does not. Which leads us to the most important lesson: SHOCK VALUE FOR THE SAKE OF SHOCK VALUE IS NOT GOOD. It’s just not. That means not resorting to gimmicks or having a plot twist just to have one. Just like everything else in your story, plot twists should serve to further the story in some way. Not every story needs a plot twist, and some stories are far better off without them!

Phone a Friend!

When in doubt, phone a friend! Writer’s block, phone a friend! Need advice on character development, phone a friend! Struggling with plot twists, phone a friend! In this case, beta readers. Like I said above, stepping into the reader’s shoes is a great way to think of ideas for plot twists, and getting beta readers to read your story is a great way to test out the believability of your plot twist once you’ve written it. Ask them wether or not they thought it was effective within the overall plot, did they believe it, did they see it coming, and overall what about it worked and didn’t work for them. But, don’t ask them about any of this until after they’ve already read the book. You don’t want them to go into the story hunting for a plot twist because they won’t react the same way that an actual prospective reader would. If they immediately come to you, gushing about how amazing the plot twist was and how much they loved it, you know you’re doing something writer. And on the flip side, if they say, wait what plot twist, you know you still have a little work to do!

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing #writing tips #writing tip #writing plot twists #writing resources #writing resource #writing reference #writers of ig #writers of instagram #writersofig #writersofinstagram

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russellsppttemplates · 5 months

Note

Arthur being very protective when Olivia brings home a boy to you and George

"So when is he coming?", Arthur asked as he sliced the bread, "he should be arriving any minute now, I think that's what Olivia scheduled with him", you said, "darling, could you cut them a little thicker, please? If you keep it like this, we won't have any bread, just crumbs", you rubbed his back, feeling the tension.

"Is everything alright?", you asked him, resting your back against the counter so you could face him, "it's fine", he grumbled, seeing your stern look telling him he should carry on, "it's just, Olivia has a boyfriend, and you're all fine with it!", he let out.

George arrived in the kitchen the exact moment, catching his son defending his idea, "doesn't it bother you that she's spending more time with him? And who knows what they're doing, because I certainly know how boys can be", he pointed out, seeing George stretch his neck, "I know what they can do because they're assholes, but it doesn't mean I do it, okay?", he defended himself. "I don't want her to be fooled, that's all", he mumbled, bringing the bread basket to the table.

Lunch had been going well, Olivia's boyfriend seemed to be a sweetheart and and over all responsible young man even though your own son was not having it, "did you know Olivia and I once broke that table when we were younger? We were playing fighting, so we could learn how to defend ourselves", Arthur said non chalantly.

"You both have always been a handful whenever the day was just right. Remember when they had that streak, George? Me and George noticed that they always seemed to act out whenever there was a full moon, so we arranged it like that", you looked at George, reminiscing the days when they were younger.

"I can drive you there if you want", Arthur said, meddling in his older sister's plans with her boyfriend, "so you don't have to drive, you know? Keep you safe, no drinking and driving", he advised. "No need, Arthur, we're going together", she added as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"How much do you bet Arthur is going to find someone to go to the party just so he can keep an eye on her?", George nudged you, "it's a certainty at this point, no need for betting on it".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#george russell blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

Things We Can't Change

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Note: 👋

Please let me know what you think <3

🍯🍯🍯

You swirl the whisk around, wrist keeping a sharp and tenuous rotation as you hold the bowl steady. The rhythmic ting of the metal against the glass fills the kitchen and the silence of the large house. The place is static and surreal, just like the rest of your life. Ever since…

Don’t think. You won’t be alone tonight. Isn’t that something to look forward to? Is there anything left in this world you can be happy for? Maybe if you could feel anything but the flatline.

“My brother is not very happy,” Loki’s voice brings your head up as he strides coolly, “something about that little mouse and her attitude.”

“Oh…” you look back down, focusing on the batter’s consistency. Almost there. The burning in your tendons is almost enjoyable. To feel anything but dread. “Are they not coming then?”

“I never said that, darling,” Loki stops at the end of the marble island and rests his hand atop it

“Good, good,” you utter, “wouldn’t want this to go to waste.”

“Please, it will. No doubt my brother will leave crumbs littered across the floor like the animal he is.”

You look at him again and give a tight-lipped smile. He does this, makes you and offer but makes it feel like a favour asked. Was it not his suggestion to have Muffing come keep you company? Because he said it would cheer you up. That it would help you forget.

How could you forget what he did? You narrow your eyes and stare at him. Your wrist moves out of instinct and a loud clink keeps you from a full-blown glare. You look down. Fuck.

“Gosh,” you stop and drop the whisk to lean against the brim, “looks like I ruined them myself.”

You sniff and turn away. You go to the other counter and pull close the tray of eggs. Start over. That’s the good part about baking, you can always try again.

You separate the yolk into one bowl and the whites another. You flinch and break through the yellow with the shell as Loki snakes his arms around you from behind. You cringe as your whites are stained with the viscous slime. You suppress your disappointment and lower the shell as he nuzzles your neck.

“It is rather amusing to think of how you midgardians can find such joy in menial tasks,” he purrs, “on Asgard, we have servants who bake our bread.”

“Mmm,” you stiffen and rest your hand on the counter. “You must miss it.”

“I do, though Asgard never missed me,” he sways you with him, “we have some time… they are still upon the road…”

His hands slip down your sides and frame your hips. He pulls you against him, pressing his twitching crotch flush to your ass. You curl your fingers and swallow a shudder.

“I’ve egg on my hands,” you sidle free of him and grab a dishcloth, “and I promised Muffin strawberry meringues the next time she was in town.”

“Do you even know if she heard you? The creature seems rather oblivious.”

“She’s not stupid,” you argue but keep your tone from piquing, “she’s quiet, that’s all.”

“To think, my brother would make that his wife,” he approaches you again, penning you in before the sink, “none are so fortunate as me, are they?” He looms closely, leaning in until his nose brushes your forehead, “when I heard of those buffoons and their missing women… not me and my darling.” He touches the emerald at your throat, “I shall always keep her close.”

“My prince,” you murmur, “I wouldn’t…”

“I know you wouldn’t, darling, you are a prince’s wife now. You know your duties. You’ve proven to me that you could never let me down, yes?”

“Yes, my prince,” you reply.

You hold back a tide of rage. You never would have said yes if you knew what it meant. If you knew what he would do. It wasn’t a fair trade. He is worth none of it but he is all you have left. Besides, he will never let you go and that fact sounds a lot more romantic than it truly is.

“My princess,” his hand crawls down your skirt, slowly tugging it up your thigh as he rubs his nose against yours, “the only promise I care for is that which you made to me.”

#loki #dark loki #loki x darling #dark!loki #loki x reader #au #series #dark!fic #drabble #drabble series #sweet treats #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers

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gabessquishytum · 28 days

Note

Since I already let my feeding kink loose in a previous ask, I might as well indulge some more.

Dream with a huge feeding kink, tying Hob to a chair and feeding him and feeding him and feeding him, a twelve course meal with big portions, not one of those empty plates with three bread crumbs on them.

Hob is crying, begging, whining that he's too full, he's closing his mouth like a stubborn toddler, turning his face away, but each time, in the end, Dream gently coaxes him to take another spoon. He doesn't even bother saying "just one more" because they both know it won't be just one, Hob will eat every single bite of the food and then he'll eat Dream out for dessert.

I hope you're feeling well, friend! I'm sending love and kinky energy your way!

- 🚒

So obviously I'm obsessed with this. Thank you so much for indulging me <3

I love the idea of Hob very much at Dream’s mercy. Maybe in the dreaming, maybe even in the waking world. Either way Dream is in control over every single little thing, and Hob can only squirm and beg for mercy.

And the most wonderful thing is that Hob loves every moment. Even as he tries to lean back away from Dream’s insistent hands, even as he cries and refuses to open his mouth. His eyes are gleaming with utter pleasure. The pain of being uncomfortably full is almost tuned out by the delight of being fed by Dream. Even when he can hardly breathe, even when it starts to hurt, he's having the time of his life. Letting Dream coax him into opening his mouth. Chewing laboriously and watching as Dream loads up the spoon yet again. He's in heaven. He could psychoanalysise the reasons why he likes it so much, but the result remains the same. Being utterly helpless and almost too full to move makes him feel like he could cum his brains out.

And for Dream, there's huge arousal and huge catharsis in the act of nourishing his beloved. Seeing Hob full and safe is the best thing in the world. Sitting on Hob’s face, gazing with satisfaction at the full swell of his belly as Hob eats him out - nothing is more pleasing to him. Hob already eats so well for Dream, like it was all meant to be. He's getting softer and there's more of him and Dream has never been so deeply enamoured with anyone. Hopefully the 12 course meals are only for special occasions, otherwise Hob is going to need a new wardrobe very quickly!

#🚒 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw feederism #cw food #cw weight

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jenokoi · 1 year

Text

How is it (the situation) affecting you, and how to move on.

GENERAL TAROT READING BY JENOKOI

Hi. This is quite unexpected, I was not planning on making this reading at all. But here we are, staring one another, you with a question and me with a fear of messing up your answer. However, I am confident this will find those who are meant to read it. Without further ado, tonight we will have a sneak peak on how a certain situation is affecting you, whenever you are aware of it or not, and how to move on (were you wish to do so). Don’t fret if we poke a few traumas here and there, I can not control what I’m told. It is a bit extensive, so please take only what resonates with you and leave the rest for your fellow companions.

That said, there are vague mentions of sexual assault and hints at eating disorders, so if you’re not comfortable with said topics please do not read.

Please take a deep breath and get comfortable. Let your intuition guide you to the answer you seek in the pictures below. Take as much time as you need.

PILE ONE > PILE TWO > PILE THREE

My tarot readings are guided by the current energy of my subject in question and my own spirit guides. Energies are prone to change based on our actions, and thus nothing is truly set on stone. Please take only what resonates, this is a general reading. It’s okay to not feel drawn to any of the images. If you have to force it into the narrative of your life, then it might not be for you. These readings are for entertainment purposes only.

HOW IS IT (THE SITUATION) AFFECTING YOU?

You feel abandoned, left behind or ignored by someone who was supposed to love and care for you unconditionally. You feel like someone broke a promise made to you. As if you had been led on with a blindfold just to find yourself completely alone in an empty room, an empty paradise.

Some of you might be the eldest child or a role model to a younger family member. You have been left behind, yet a part of you still believes whoever abandoned you will come back. You might have been the second choice or someone is in the position you were told was to be yours. Nonetheless, you still hold onto this person/situation and refuse to let go despite the exit sign being right in front of you. You know there are better things awaiting for you on the other side. In your mind, you know what must be done, how the story ends. But your heart holds onto the faintest of flames in the hopes of a fire to burn every obstacle in your way.

Either someone you trust is leading you on, or you have been warned of what will happen regarding the situation by a male energy.

You might have developed really bad eating habits since the situation started. You indulge in addictions to fill the emptiness left by the excitement of a promised destiny yet to manifest. To calm the anxiety of waiting you abuse of your body and take it to its limits. You are a prisoner of your emotions, ignoring evidence and warnings, accusing your mind of being too critical, skeptical. You turn your back to the truth and keep on holding to the situation (or person).

“I can leave when I want, so I’ll be okay with one more.” Your childhood traumas are haunting your present self. Especially those related to your fatherly figure growing up. You might have been very loved by your father during your child years before he abandoned you or left you stranded. Yet you were told by everyone he loved you the most. You have issues letting go. You believe in a love that can’t be seen because you were told you don’t need to feel or receive it for it to be real. You just need to know it’s there and that’s enough.

You gather every small move, every little bread crumb, and make of it a feast. You are holding onto ideas and no proof. This situation is making you delusional. You grab pieces left behind rather than given to you and call them gifts. This situation could be taken place at work or in a religious environment. You are making a big deal out of nothing. And every time you realize you are moving on you find another reason to come back.

If we’re being honest, you don’t want to move on, but there’s nothing you can do at all regarding the situation even if you decide to stay, and that frustrates you a lot. “If given the chance.” You want (yearn) for something out of this situation that you can’t have. You want to be the only choice. But you are afraid of the consequences were you to act upon your emotions. You are scare of getting hurt. You don’t think you are strong enough to face the consequences, but you are strong enough to not give up so easily.

This situation could be an affair of sorts. Your competition might know of you or of the situation. “You are not welcomed.” In case of an affair or something related to a relationship of three, you don’t think your competition is deserving of the subject of your affections. You believe them trapped, and that you could make them happier.

Whispers: darling, if they wanted, they would.

HOW TO MOVE ON (FROM THE SITUATION).

Take a fucking break and stop consuming so much tarot readings in the hopes of getting a different reading from the one two posts ago. Stop feeding onto your delusions, please. Take back control of your impulses and addictions, return to the mentality of “if it’s not doing me good then I shouldn’t continue,” please. It’s all about using reason to cut the negativity out of your life.

You might have been in a low energy as of late, often wanting to be left alone and leaving things for later (your room must be a mess), not necessary out of sadness though. You have been overthinking every action and fighting your mind took a toll on you. Sometimes to find the problem one must pull from the root.

It’s time to open your eyes and see that you have been drinking from an empty cup. There’s nothing there for you but what you have made yourself believe in. You were not invited to the party, your presence was not needed nor warranted. You are not supposed to be in this situation because there’s nothing here for you. It’s not yours to fight for and it’s not yours to win. You have been ignoring the truth waiting for it to be a lie, and you have been surrounding yourself with little lies that you have made them your truth. Even if it hurts, you are to look at the situation through reality and not your own distorted view.

Walk away from your own make believe world and you will see how clear the signs become. Stop projecting your ideas onto the situation (or person).

It’s time to face old habits and acknowledge how they are slowly deteriorating you. Love is not something you can’t see. Love can be found in memories, in actions, in words. Loves needs validation every once in a while, not because we must give it, but because we love so much we just have to scream it, have to show it, have to tell it. When someone loves you, you don’t doubt it. When someone cares for you, you are not afraid to ask of it.

You have to get comfortable with the dark energy within you so that you can learn to protect yourself with it. Learn your past, discover where your obsessions come from and understand how you can prevent being a victim of them.

You are unable to have commitment in a relationship because you must have control at all times of those who have a piece of your heart. You force your own idea of someone onto them and leave when they don’t act accordingly to your script. You don’t know how to receive love. You grew up thinking love should not be received, just acknowledge. And while it might take a while, you have the strength to grow your heart alongside your mind.

The seeds planted during your childhood have grown, some beautifully, some slowly, others even venomous. A few withered in the shadows. It’s time to put them under the sun and help them grow. Butterflies will arrive on their own, at their own time.

You wish for a change in this situation, blindly dancing with the devil. You refuse to move one because part of you, like a fool, believes you will receive your reward for waiting like a good kid.

Love shouldn’t make you feel like the bad guy.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

PILE II

HOW IS IT (THE SITUATION) AFFECTING YOU?

This situation makes you feel alive, desired, wanted. You might even receive compensation from it, both financially or emotionally. You are becoming dependent of this situation. It’s euphoric, blinds you with excitement, carries you into a high. Some of you might consume drugs, could be weed or cocaine. This situation feels similar to the story of Alice In Wonderland.

Some of you might video call with someone or exchange nudity content through messages to another participant of the situation. Sexual innuendo warning: a partner might be really good at oral or constantly in the mood. Nevertheless, this situation makes you feel extremely desired and above the competition.

Funnily enough, this situation also makes you feel like less. As if you are not interesting nor cared of as a person but an object to lust after. You feel reduced to how you look rather than to what you can make. You might be afraid of showing your artistic side or ideas. You feel the best participant to a category you don’t think you deserve. You are far more than that, and are not receiving the compensation for all the effort you give. You feel as if your thoughts have no importance, your opinions only for the deaf. You overthink a lot and act as if you care none.

People might say bad/rude things about you behind your back, some even to your face. You might be in a rowdy and raucous environment. Your situation is like fireworks, pretty in it’s appearance, loud in its path, and brief in its high.

Your feelings are in disarray. You don’t know if what you feel for others or what others feel for you is love or lust, if it’s genuine or a parasite trying to suck your blood. You don’t know if they (or a certain person) sees you as a true friend or someone they just want to fuck. You also feel jealousy, a lot of it. Some of you might have stomach ache as of late. Others might be starving yourselves to fit a criteria.

Despite being a favorite, there seems to be a lot of competition regarding your goals. Some of you might constantly feel dizzy, you might like the act of eating a cake more than the cake itself (a rebellious act).

You feel like a fool who tries too hard and only embarrass themselves the more they talk, the more honest they act. There is someone you are trying to impress but they don’t return your affection/interest. This person might always be surrounded by people or talking to someone.

Some of you might be in the fashion business. Modeling, to be more precise. Your situation surrounds you of people trying to survive on their own twisted ways. Prostitutes. Teamwork is not prompted, and often those who play dirty are victorious.

You feel dirty and alone. Cheated on something. You were promised Wonderland and were given the bottom of the rabbit hole. For some, money ties you down to this situation. You feel a product to a store. For some of you, you are dealing with a player, for others, this is a career or project situation. You might feel controlled by a male energy.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT

Some of you might have been victims to sexual abuse and assault, could have been continuous from a young age or an event past the age of sixteen. You might be forced to coexist with your assaulter, either physically or mentally. You don’t feel like you deserve/want to be protected or cared for.

You feel like you aren’t and will never be enough. Someone not worth of respect. “Your body is what gives you value, not your mind, not your heart, but what’s between your open legs.” You don’t think you can reach your dreams. You don’t think to be the person to make them real.

You might be haunted by a male energy, and people’s opinions about you matter more than the love you give yourself. You are scared of growing old and losing your beauty.

HOW TO MOVE ON (FROM THE SITUATION).

You are a prisoner to society, to the male gaze, and you must break free of it before you can learn to forgive. It sounds stupid to you, but that same reason is why you are all so fucking depressed. You dislike men, you find them disgusting, but you are noting without them. If they don’t desire you, it means you are not hot enough. If they don’t come onto you, then you are not worth the time. You are nothing unless a man tells you you are his everything.

And eat/drink your fucking protein because you are a shivering wreck.

You don’t have to find value in your mind or your body or your heart. You have to accept that you won’t fit everyone’s taste and that’s t okay, because you’ll be you, and you only need to fit yourself.

You want to be taken care of, but you must learn how to by yourself first before you let anyone do so. Otherwise, anyone will easily sell you a nightmare dressed as a dream. You must break your dependency on external masculine energy.

You have become comfortable on the role of the victim, and thus you refuse to fight for what you want. “It won’t matter what I do, nothing will change.”

It’s a big wall to break through, but once you do, life will make sense. You will realize you are a little less afraid, a little more vulnerable. Once you break free, you will see how the world changes in an instant. How your feelings have power, your voice has strength, and your hand has the gift of giving love to all that it touches, regardless if it’s made of mud or gold. You will be your best friend and your grandest rival; not someone you want to defeat, but who constantly defies you to improve. You will see your dreams stay as they are, drifting away in the sky because you don’t fly towards them. You’ll allow yourself to be understood, that’s okay to simply feel without a need to explain.

Once you start to work for yourself with yourself, you will flourish into a beauty that has no weight, no standard, no criteria but that of simply being. You will fall in love with yourself and the world will follow in a breath.

And some wounds might never heal, some scars will forever mark your skin. You don’t have to forgive them, but you must forgive yourself. My dear, your karma will find them when you stop holding on to it.

You wish for revenge regarding this situation. Someone ruined your inner child, and you can’t let go until justice has been served. However, all those negative emotions are only attracting negative outcomes. Some victories are attained when you leave the battlefield and let your enemies end themselves.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

PILE III

HOW IS IT (THE SITUATION) AFFECTING YOU?

Why are you even reading this man, you clearly don’t want to move on. You truly believe you can work your way into saving this. You don’t want to change shit, you just want to fix whatever is going on and continue on as if nothing ever happened. But, if you already fucked up enough times, and shit is just not working out for you, then it might be time to move on. If you think you can try again, I don’t recommend you continue reading this post :)

Right from the get a go, this might be a cheating situation. Either you cheated on someone or someone cheated on you. It’s cool, we don’t judge, shit spills when the drain is clogged. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic (or a relationship) affair, it could also be a work situation (much like drama office). Whatever it was, it’s irrelevant when compared to the universal truth of pile three: there was foul play in here.

Let us start slow and from the beginning. Fact: you don’t like to be alone. Consequence: you withstand a lot of shit from people as to not feel like you don’t belong. You might be a pushover with a lot of migraine issues. You don’t really put up a fight, especially when talking about this situation in specific.

You don’t like direct conflict. You avoid it, take the punches for the sake of peace, keeping your image clean. Some of you had/have a really bad relationship with your mother, or had someone belittle you a lot during your formative years. A family member might have drink a lot around you. A kitchen has a powerful meaning for some of you (this is very specific, but a tile floor and a room with yellow tones). Nonetheless, to stay in this situation you keep your mouth shut and take the beating. You’re very emotionally weak though, stop lying to yourself about it. Thinking really fuck up comebacks capable of destroying the strongest of enemies doesn’t mean much if you don’t actually use them (granted, you are watching out for yourself and that’s understandable). What’s hard to comprehend is why you put yourself in said situation to begin with.

You have a beggar mentality. Be it for love, money, or validation. You are willing to put up with a lot of crap if the reward is worth the trouble. You have grown dependent of this situation. You might work in an office job or wear blue as part of your uniform. You don’t have any loyalty whatsoever, some of you might be well-known snitches. You put value in people based on what they can offer to you.

A lot of people don’t like you, pile three. They are praying for your downfall in silence. For some, someone you trust is among them (please take this with a grain of salt. If you had no indication of a person plotting against you before, don’t force it now). For others, your friends are ready to give up on you if you don’t pull yourself together. No one really knows why you do what you do, but they don’t trust you. Someone finds you pitiful.

You are seeking something, but you are doing the whole treasure hunt gig wrong. Growing up no one really payed much attention to you, and now you search for it the only way you know; staying quiet or causing trouble. And you don’t understand why despite all your efforts you can’t seem to achieve what others do so easily. You have an inferiority complex, regardless if you come from money or not. Some of you might actually been raised on poverty or a really competitive environment. “Many mouths to feed, not enough hands to work.”

Despite it all, all you ever want is a good, simple life. But you refuse to let go of old mentalities. You want to be the little man and ride off the success of someone else. You don’t want to do anything at all. But lately you have been so fucking depressed and no one wants to be your friend.

But hey, you kept on reading, which means you are ready to give the move on thing a chance.

You want to improve, that’s more than some people can say. You don’t want to be a sentient puppet, you want to be a person with deepness and layers to them. You want to have a major life change, which most likely means you fucked up big time and want to improve. You hurt someone, or someone hurt you (granted, it might have been warranted). But you, quiet literally, want to expel the ugliness out of you, and frankly speaking some people are not having it. They want you to stay the bad person to elevated themselves. But there’s also people around you that are more than willing to help you out, which might confuse you because you won’t know who to trust. You’re ready to put the work, though.

Still, you think life will become boring. If there’s not a villain then there’s not a story to tell. No bad decisions to be made, no more late night drunken shenanigans. So you might be a bit unsteady, prone to giving in everyone once in a while, which might halt any progress you had made. You might have BIG time trust issues. “Leave before they leave you,” stuff going on. Truthfully, you will never move on if you don’t lose that.

HOW TO MOVE ON (FROM THE SITUATION).

To move on, you have to let go of the idea of a perfect life, a perfect you, in a perfect world. There’s no such thing as a life without issues. If you want something you have to put the work into it. Cheating your way into victory is getting a medal without value. Have you watched Wreck-it-Ralph? Yeah? Then you know what I mean. You don’t need to be the most powerful person in the room to be the most loved, the most respected.

Being the first to punch doesn’t make you a better person, m neither does not punching back. You have to stop looking a life thought black and white. You need to let go of this beggar mentality. “You are rich if you’re not poor and you’re poor if your not rich.” Shit don’t work like that bro. You don’t have to break a heart to prove that you have love and were loved. You don’t have to make people hurt you and grovel for your forgiveness just to see that they care. You have to stop seeing everyone as your enemy.

Life is all about how we interact with the universe. Life with life, not life against life. Don’t run from something just because you expect the worst. Nothing will ever be set on stone. Nothing will forever be good and nothing will forever be bad. It’s all about what teachings you decide to carry with you and how you apply them in your everyday. We are constantly learning and changing, for better or for worse.

You have to understand that people have fears just like you, that people can get hurt by your actions. Be more patience, don’t jump at the slightest movement. Don’t enter the first exit you see, let the road take you to your destination. And stop trying to hurt people for the sake of hurting, it’s not cool.

Don’t give value to people based on what they can give to you. You are missing out on so many experiences and learning opportunities by closing off from others. You are blinded by an artificial dream to see what the universe is trying to gift to you. (This is oddly specific, but please stop watching so much porn). It’s okay to ask for help bro, and maybe it’s about damn time you do. You might discover different perspectives about things you used to think yourself an expert on. And stop procrastinating so much, you got shit to do, masterpieces to create.

Don’t be so closed off to new experiences, and try new activities. You won’t belong anywhere if you keep pretending to be someone you aren’t. When you feel the most comfortable, you will find yourself surrounded by people who love you just the way you are. Breaking news, love is not supposed to make you feel like shit.

Also, stop being so hasty. Slow down, take your time and enjoy the ride. You will appreciate all that you have if you simply take a moment to enjoy it.

Stop running away, you will only tired yourself.

You wish to belong so desperately, to fulfill an idea, that you are willing to lose yourself to the situation. Fake it till you make make, make yourself miserable that is. In essence, you are afraid of being alone, to never be wanted for who you are, and you prefer to burn the forest at the first sound of a branch snapping than letting life find you.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It's really late and I'm very tired, but I had the urge to post this reading as soon as possible. I'll fix any mistakes tomorrow as soon as time allows me to do so. As always, thank you for trusting me with your energies, stay safe, and the universe loves you all <3

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ahbeduo · 3 months

Note

Do u have any subject 2 headcanons? 👀

I DO ACTUALLY!!! I think I've mentioned some in another ask, but uHHH I will put them here again cuz I might have changed some since last time🤔 I will put em belowwww Because I will not shut up about him /lh

REMINDER THIS IS ALL MY HEADCANONS! I ain't saying they're correct and true at all! There's so little screen time and crumbs I had to cook my own bread

Note: If it's not in any Aeruby AU (Aether x Rubedo but i and my friend like to call him Ruby haha) then he will forever be subject 2 in my head

I had HC Subject 2's real body underneath the Albedo imitation has multiple large jagged scars from when Durin had eaten him. Those large sharp teeth probably had pierced through his body once or twice before he was sent down the esophagus. That's why some parts of his body are so damaged he can't feel anything there

Another thing is that his hair.. I HC it to be black as opposite to Albedo's pale blonde-ish colour since Albedo is considered free of impurities and Subject 2 isn't at this point? Marinating in Durin's blood has GOT to do something right? Right?

This isn't exactly my HC, but of a friend who I always throw my brain worms at. They say his hands and feet has a bit of darkening, like a siamese cat's paw 🥺 It ends at his forearms and shins

Mentally, he is a child because I don't think Rhinedottir had allowed him to grow and develop so much. So yes, he doesn't have as much control over his emotions as Albedo. He isn't patient either compared to his successor. His relationship with their Master is complicated. He hates her, yet he refers to her as his mother. Mommy issues ayeeeee lmao

"You are my magnum opus" Rhinedottir had said to him. He had been proud to be her work of art. So he didn't expect to be thrown away for failing. What did he fail at? He didn't know. He was never told.

other simple stuff

-He won't get a vision -Has an interest in plants and animals -He's physically stronger than Albedo since he doesn't have a vision to rely on -Is very willing to get his hands dirty and commit murder for his benefit ((not surprisinglol))

All in all he gives feral stray cat energy that just wants love but would rather replace his successor to get it than to start his own life.

#ask #anonymous #thANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THE FERAL MAN #long post #but i hide it anyway lolol

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kiteblue42 · 6 months

Text

Part 2 of - what the heck is going on with Mobius anyway?

S2e3 - the one where Renslayer calls him out on his BS.

Rather like S1e3 there’s actually not that much Mobius in this episode (I mean he’s in the action but we’re not getting that much insight). Non-the-less I managed to stream of consciousness myself through a lot of words….

(1) Mobius is very into his job & is good at it.

Nothing makes Mobius happier than working a case - yes he has fun at the fair but he is always on it: he knows his history of Chicago, he finds the bread crumbs etc - he’s basically showing rookie Loki how to do the good old fashioned leg work). More generally Mobius sees the bigger picture and steers Loki to the decision to get Victor Timely back to the TVA.

(2) Mobius / Renslayer

Because I love Mobius I kind of want to think Mobius is hurt and misses his friend and really wants her back on their side and is genuinely being forgiving and lovely. But - no - I actually think most of the interaction with Ravonna could be read as Mobius being pretty manipulative. We know he can act in a manipulative way after the interrogation scenes in s2e2. He sees the bigger picture and thinks Ravonna / Miss Minutes could be useful or at least he wants to neutralise them. He has not forgotten she tried to kill himself & Loki (mentioned it a couple of times). And he wants to bring back Timely because he thinks “we’ll never get Renslayer to help us” Compared to scenes with Loki Mobius seems pretty in control of his emotions when dealing with her. Ravonna knows him pretty well and doesn’t buy his soft speeches either “none of your words mean a thing”.

I am very interested in what Ravonna meant by her little speech on: “ tidying up your messes - doing your dirty work - making the hard decisions you never had the nerve to make.” Along side the “soft spot for broken things” comment it seems Ravonna has quite a bit of insight into Mobius. In the end Mobius leaves her to Sylvie with only a slight look of regret.

3) order and chaos - opposites - partners

So the order & chaos theme gets overtly introduced by Victor Timely in the loom presentation. The camera pans to Loki and Mobius which is probably not a coincidence. We get the same cut away to Loki and Mobius when Renslayer engages with this theme.

The obvious takeaway is the Renslayer is order and Sylvie chaos given how the scene plays out but the cut aways do seem important.

Then we also have a theme of partnerships.

Timely brings this up first with “I don’t do partnerships”. Others have written very interesting stuff on these themes (@charcubed : https://www.tumblr.com/charcubed/731718717278502912/heres-your-fun-keycode-for-mirroring-in-loki & @loki-who-remains https://www.tumblr.com/loki-who-remains/731775874980069376/the-dichotomy-of-order-and-chaos-is-so- & https://www.tumblr.com/teamtardis-notdead/731724045258817537/all-that-matters-is-order-vs-chaos

From a Mobius pov the options are just Renslayer / Mobius and Loki /Mobius. So order / order and order / chaos. Renslayer / Mobius was a disaster and no more (there is no “we”). But according to Mobius s2e2 “opposites attract? No!”

The future …?

I’ve said before that “Mobius watch” puts him slipping into a pretty dark place from at least S1e4. His partnership with Loki is working very well (possibly too well as others have pointed out). But it seems likely he sees no future in it - it’s a “now” thing. The same with his role at the TVA. He clearly loves that job but has it been rendered meaningless or even plain wrong.

I don’t buy this version of Mobius being content with a regular job on the timeline either - certainly not jet ski salesman - there’s too much of the TVA analyst in him. So what’s left?Of all the characters we have Mobius is least well equipped to deal with the future because he is focused exclusively on now, his main relationship is with Loki (which he does not think will last) and he has ambiguous feelings towards his job with was the only thing giving him meaning. If there’s a sacrifice to be made he’s an obvious candidate - also Renslayer practically calls him out to make a hard choice so no doubt we will see him make one.

So that’s depressing- still at least we’ll get to see Owen Wilson killing it (I am so impressed with him in this show!).

#loki #mobius #loki spoilers #mobius m mobius #lokius meta #owen wilson #lokius

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lou-struck · 2 years

Text

Feeding the Birds

Keigo Takami X Reader

~While on a picnic date, Keigo gets a bit jealous of some of your feathered friends.

WC: 1.1k

Between the pleasant breeze and the sunny sky, it is finally beginning to feel like summer.

You and your boyfriend Keigo have been checking the weather constantly so you can schedule your shifts around some much-needed sunshine. After weeks of scanning and searching, you finally were able to find an afternoon where both your schedules were clean of any responsibility.

Leaving the city limits behind you, the pair of you drive to a beautifully lush park surrounding a quiet lake to have a little picnic for yourselves. Keigo took it upon himself to pack the picnic basket for the two of you. But as you open the woven lid you realize that he may have gone a little crazy in his preparation. The basket is filled to the brim with fresh fruits and vegetables, sandwiches, pastries, and packaged charcuterie board makings.

“Keigo” you beam, examining the basket “you really went all out I hope you didn't spend too much.”

"Actually Birdie, I didn't spend anything." He replies handing you a sparkling juice from the cooler. "This spread was wonderfully donated by the Hero Commission."

"Oh really?" you ask raising a brow. "And do they know about their donation to our stomachs"

"Nope," He laughs aloud "That doesn't sound very heroic of me now does it?"

"I'm sure they don't even realize it's gone," you say taking a sip of the ice-cold drink, the bubbles tickling your tongue as you enjoy its sweetness. As Keigo does the same raising it to his lips and taking a long sip. When he's had his fill he lowers the can with a sigh as he wipes a bit of the peach-colored juice from his chin.

"Nope not at all," he smiles leaning in to give you a quick kiss. "They just had it sitting in the conference room."

"Well then, let's not let it go to waste,” you laugh returning the gesture.

"You're too cute," He chuckles kissing you again and unpacking the full basket for your picnic. While he busier himself with perfection, you take some time to admire the scenery around you. Between the lush greenery and the white-capped water of the Lake, you see this quiet spot as a place you and Keigo can keep coming back to again and again.

A flock of multi-colored birds comes to occupy the spot of grass next to your blanket. They happily hop around looking for worms, seeds, or whatever it is little birds eat while on the ground.

"Oh look at all the Robins Kei," you gush pointing at the creatures, "Aren't they so cute?"

"Adorable..." Keigo says in a flat voice devoid of any kind of emotion.

They don’t seem to be finding much at the moment and it pulls at your heart strings. Wanting to help them in their search you gently tear off a piece of bread from your sandwich and shred it till it's nothing but little crumbs.

You throw a few at a time in the direction of the brightly colored birds hoping they catch on.

The effect is instantaneous as they begin to swarm the crumbs flapping their wings every which way and sending adorable little chirps to their little friends. It’s so cute you throw a few more pieces to the flock who move with newfound energy towards their little gift.

You are so focused on the birds in front of you, that you almost forget about your Big Bird-like boyfriend behind you.

An irritated huff reaches your ears and pulls your attention back to Keigo who has a little pout on his face. His gaze is fixated on the little robins in front of him.

“You’re not supposed to feed the birds,” he mumbles taking a bite of his own sandwich.

"Huh?" you say turning to face him. He points to a little sign that is staked in the grass. "Oh, I guess I didn't see that."

"Yeah," he says glaring at the birds. "I got this food for you, not this little ~"

“Are you seriously jealous of the birds right now?” you interject with a giggle.

He doesn't answer your question instead opting to eat his sandwich in silence. His honey-colored eyes watch as you begin to actually eat your own food.

“You know you're the only one for me Kei, Bird or human,” you say warmly. Of course, he knows this, but there is always that bit of Avain protectiveness that clings to his psyche when he is around you.

His murderous glares at the birds cease and he gives you a toothy grin. “I know that, just like to remind you not to go looking at other birds when you have me.” His red wings flap in the direction of the Robins creating a gust of wind that shoos them away from you.

“Oh Keigo,” you sigh shaking your head.

“Wanna grape?” he asks pulling out a container of plump-looking cotton candy grapes. He takes one off the vine and holds it out to you temptingly. Nodding excitedly you open your mouth for him to underhandedly toss it in the gap.

With a little flick of his wrist, the grape is released as it flies into the air and perfectly into your open mouth. It hits your tongue and you give it a little bite. “Nice toss Kei, If this Hero thing of yours doesn't work out you have a career in grape tossing.” you giggle.

“Thanks, Angel. I’ll keep that in mind.” he laughs sliding the package of grapes over to you and opening his mouth exactly. “My turn.”

"Well," you hum in consideration. "I don't know if I'm allowed to do that Kei?"

"Why is that?" he asks raising a feathered brow.

"The sign says I'm not allowed to feed the birds," you say twisting a grape off the vine and plopping it into your mouth.

Keigo dramatically places a hand over his chest. "Angel, don't be like that." he pleads as you continue to thoughtfully chew your grape.

"I just don't want to break any rules." you tease, "Especially since you were so adamant about them earlier with the Robbins."

He opens his mouth to protest but you aren't able to continue teasing him when he looks so cute with that pouty look on his face.

Your amused giggling fills the air as you relent picking off a grape and holding it out for him just as he had done for you before., "Okay pretty bird, I'm sorry, here's your grape." you say tossing the fruit into the air and into his mouth as he moves to catch it.

After swallowing he scoots closer to you on your picnic blanket. "I knew you couldn't say no to me." he coos wrapping an arm around you.

You snuggle into his embrace as he peppers your face with little kisses as revenge for all your teasing earlier.

#my hero academia hawks #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha #hawks x reader fluff #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #boku no hero academia hawks #keigo tamaki #keigo x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #hawks fluff #bnha hawks

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potatoetree · 6 months

Text

I'm back with some more...

INCORRECT

QUOTE

GENERATOR

*Boaterm addition*

Scar: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t “fit in” and I don’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.

Mumbo: Are we really going to let Grian keep Scar?

Pearl: We kept Impulse.

Scar: Don't worry, I've got a few knives up my sleeve.

Mumbo: I think you mean cards.

Grian: They did not.

Scar, pulling out knives: I did not.

Grian: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

Scar: I won a new phone in a race.

Impulse: Huh? What kind of race lets you win a phone, Scar?

Scar: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

Mumbo: *Stands in trash can.*

Impulse: Mumbo, not again! You're not trash, you're at least recycling!

*The Squad is on a hike*

Impulse: It’s beautiful out here.

Mumbo: And quiet.

Impulse: Too quiet.

Mumbo: Did we lose someone?

*cut to Grian with a bear in a headlock*

Mumbo: I’ve become a bread crumb dealer to four crows at the lake. They pay me with a bit of everything. Like shiny things, fabric, or pens. But recently they paid me with a 20 dollar bill they found somewhere. So I decided to buy them some more expensive bread. They loved it. So they understand what to do. Give me money. I’ve probably racked up about 200 dollars at this point. Is it morally wrong though, I mean. They’re the ones who steal the money from others. Or perhaps they just have a big pile laying somewhere. Should I keep on doing this?

Impulse: You sound like the start of a Batman villain.

Scar: I think we should have glow stick juice injected in our bones when we're born, so if we break our bones, we get a fun little surprise.

Impulse: What's the surprise?

Pearl: Blood poisoning.

Scar: *sneaking in through their window*

Grian: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Scar: I was with Mumbo?

Mumbo: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

Scar: Met a dumbass today. Awful.

Grian: You looked in a mirror?

Scar: Someday you will have to answer for your actions and god may not be so merciful.

Mumbo: I know you love them.

Grian: I am not in love with Scar!

Mumbo, staring at Grian: I never said who...

Grian: *realizes*

Grian: Shit. Well, anyways-

Scar: Pick a card, any card.

Grian: Fine.

Scar: Wait, that's my credit card!

Grian: You said any card.

Scar: I may be stupid.

The Squad: ...

Scar: Oh, did you think I was going to finish that sentence?

Grian: I am the most responsible person in the group.

Pearl: …You just set the kitchen on fire.

Grian: Yes, and I take full responsibility for that.

Grian: Go ahead, Scar. Let it out, cry. If you don't, your tear ducts will get blocked up, and then when you get old, you won't be able to cry.

Pearl: Just when we thought it was safe to let you back into the conversation.

Scar: Grian, I sense hostility.

Grian: Good, because I hate you.

Pearl (brainstorming ideas for pranking Grian): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost?

Impulse: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful.

Pearl: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that?

Impulse: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Pearl.

Scar: *working in a flower shop and minding their own business*

Grian, storming into the store and slapping $20 on the counter: HOW DO I PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVELY SAY “FUCK YOU” IN FLOWER???

Mumbo: Why would you give a knife to Impulse?!

Scar, shrugging: Impulse felt unsafe.

Mumbo: Now I feel unsafe!

Scar: I’m sorry…

Scar: Would you like a knife?

Grian: Thought I was meowing back at my cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Scar meowing at each other from different rooms in the house.

Scar: Hello, I'm Scar. I work at a shop now. Here to help. Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget it. Very helpful, as that does happen.

Scar: *running towards Pearl with open arms*

Pearl: *moves out of the way*

Scar: Hey, why'd you move?!

Pearl: I thought you were going to attack me.

Scar: I was going to hug you!

Pearl: Why would you hug me?

Scar: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

Mumbo, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often?

Grian, confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

Grian: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it.

Grian: Everything will be fine. You have no choice.

Scar: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that?

Grian: Ominous positivity.

Scar: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

Pearl: *in the cell next to them* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

Pearl: I’m going to dunk on you.

Mumbo: Bring a ladder.

Pearl: I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something!

Mumbo: You left me, Grian, and Scar in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.

Pearl: I did that on purpose, try again.

Scar: Do you ever feel bugs on you when really there’s nothing there?

Pearl: Those are the ghosts of the bugs you killed before.

Scar:

Scar: *sobs*

Mumbo: You fucking scared them, you idiot.

Scar: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Pearl: Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"?

Grian: Ya know... it might be.

Scar: Impulse has no idea I’m high.

Impulse: You’re high?

Scar: Oh, I’m sorry.

Scar, leaning over to Mumbo: Impulse has no idea I’m high.

Grian: Let's just agree to both say we're sorry on the count of three.

Grian: One... two... three.

Pearl: ...

Grian: ...

Grian: See, now I'm just disappointed in both of us.

#grian #incorrect hermitcraft quotes #hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #boatem #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar

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yestrnight · 11 months

Note

i'm so in love with your slime!reader series, (yes, so is everyone else. but. i'm Different, okay? i'm not Like Those Other Girls) it is infecting my brian

anyways, accept my offering of kaveh brain rot juice

cw for: dubcon, i think this is sexual torture, overstim, unrealistic amounts of cum(?), milking, mindbreak, my debatable writing skills, and lowkey sadism on slime's part

arrest me. i just want to see that man cry. listen, he's just a little soggy bread crumb of a man and i think he deserves to be milked into unconsciousness.

so, one day, like any other, you see kaveh scribbling away at his drawing desk. and as usual, he's having some trouble getting the work done. a bright idea pops into your otherwise empty, slimy head- and helpful little you decides to provide your master with some good encouragement! sucking him off under the desk and denying him release until he finishes his work! totally fool proof.

kaveh gets his work done in record time. is it good? doesn't matter, the only thought running around in his silly little fucked out brain is cumming. and you give him just that. except, you don't stop there.

at this point, all the orgasms have just melted together into one, long, torturously good high. kaveh is sure everyone in the neighborhood has heard his screams of pleasure, but it's not like he's in a position to care. the way you squelch and convulse around his poor, overstimmed dick has him scratching grooves into his work desk. his eyes haven't been anything but white for... how long, now? and he's drooling onto his already tear and sweat stained papers, but how can he focus on anything but the way you're draining his balls right now?

eventually, you've had to start holding him up yourself- his legs gave out a long while ago- but that's fine, at least now you can hold his spasming thighs apart while you fuck open both of his holes, and he's no longer trying to stop you! only now able to babble and sob incoherently, too shaky and ruined to do anything but take it. you do miss his desperate begging, sure, but he's pretty cute like this as well~!

you have to commend this man's stamina; even after being milked for hours, he's still providing you with plenty of that delicious cum you so crave- and he hasn't passed out yet! at least, you think- it's hard to tell at this point.

kaveh makes a noise that's between a groan and a scream; hoarse and low and so utterly guttural when you suck around his abused cockhead, and he might be having a seizure with the way his body thrashes from the feeling, the way his mouth opens in a silent scream, and the way that all that comes out is a choking, broken moan. you think he's orgasming again. but at this point, he's just been leaking cum for you like a faucet.

it feels like an eternity later when you release kaveh, letting his shaking body slide to the ground. his cum and your weird slime fluids mixing and dripping down his thighs, into your body, and onto the floor. just closing his legs feels like too much stimulation. as he struggles to recover, his fingers digging into the cum stained wood, and kaveh can't help but whimper and cry so pathetically, only barely comprehensible in his pitching little whines.

but you got him to finish his work, de-stress, and catch up on some much needed sleep! very proud of yourself, you clean your master (and the floor) up as best as you can at the moment, and drag his limp body into bed, where you can lick up his tears as he clings onto you.

hm... you think you'll do this again.

omg!!!!! this was so hot? op drop your url pls do you have some fics i can binge on...

and imagine! no way can whiny kaveh hide those pretty moans of his, and especially not from his roommate! alhaitham just listening into his senior's whines and your noisy slime noises as you slam your length into kaveh's prostate ◑﹏◐ he's palming himself through his leaking underwear, dick all hard and stiff. he doesn't know who he envies more— you or kaveh.

#this was so hot op im serious abt the url #if you have a smut blog 😳 thennnn #genshin smut #nite.thirsts

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