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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

[Chapter 1] New Beginnings

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Nipple Play, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Creampie, Cum Play

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Not even two months after your husband’s death, you find yourself completely broke. There’s no more jewelry or rare items in your house that are actually worth something. You don’t have any more furniture that you can sell. The money you make is barely enough to pay the mortgage to your house. Leading to only one option:

Selling the house.

You hold many memories dear to you between the house’s walls, but at some point your basic necessities are more important than mere memories. You have many pictures that can help you recall the happy moments, which should be enough for some time. Maybe one day you can rebuy the house, but for now you don’t count on it.

In the end, the house is far too big for a single person. And too gloomy for you. The sun doesn’t shine and brightens the house like it used to. Lately every corner is dark, full of recollections of him and his life. It completely brings you down because he’s gone.

When you pack everything up is when you come to the realization that you’re better off elsewhere. Somewhere that’s big enough for you, a place you can afford. A place that doesn’t bring back the happy memories that not too long after turn gloomy and sorrowful. Somewhere you can start fresh and forget about it all. Forget the first twenty-four years of your life. Even the happiest moments.

Your quest to forget leads you to the outskirts of town, finding an apartment cheap enough that allows you to take two months off work to live off the bit of your savings and the profit of selling the house– But of course, you won’t be doing that. You’ll find a job immediately and use your savings to buy what you need and buy some of the furniture that you had sold.

But right now you aren’t all too worried about what couch you want for your living room, instead you’re more concerned about getting the mattress up to your floor and into your room. You rented a moving truck and managed to convince the old grumpy neighbor next door to help you pack up some of the stuff, but now he’s miles away. You have no idea what you’re going to do next because you have no idea who anyone is.

So you stand outside the building, arms crossed as you try your best to figure out what you’ll do next. You can try to carry all of it to the third floor, but that won’t be too easy or good for you. You decide to leave it there for a moment and begin to go upstairs to finally see your new apartment. You were in a rush to find a cheap place to move to, and you didn’t even bother to check the unit out. You don’t really care if the place is luxurious or if it’s the biggest dump in the place, you just want to figure out where you’ll be putting your stuff.

It feels like quite a workout when you get to the third floor, making you put your hands on your knees and pant for a moment. You realize that getting your stuff upstairs won’t be such an easy task, but you’ll somehow manage. Somehow. You still have to figure it out.

When you catch your breath, you walk to your door, your hand going into your pocket to find the key. As you get it out, someone who you can only assume is your new neighbor, walks to the door that’s next to yours. Apartment 381.

He’s tall and seemingly strong, or at least the shirt that hugs him tightly gives that impression. He has black hair that reaches around his ears, certainly in need of a haircut. He doesn’t look like the friendliest to approach, but you wouldn’t feel too comfortable knocking on your other neighbors’ doors asking for help. You’re too focused on the stern look on his face that you nearly miss the little boy that holds the white plastic bag.

“Uhm… Excuse me?” You cringe at the way your voice cracks when you speak up, but regardless, you continue walking up to your neighbor. He turns to look at you, and while usually men’s eyes light up at the sight of you, he holds the same expression throughout. You tell him your first name before asking, “I need help carrying some stuff up, and I was wondering…”

He looks you up and down, taking in every detail before he nods in response. “I need you to watch the kid for me.”

“Oh– Okay. But I’m not sure you can carry it alone.” You tell him, and he chuckles. You’re not sure why he laughs, but you know it makes you nervous. You begin to question your words before he speaks again,

“Oh, trust me, I can.” He answers. “Just open the place, take the kid in, and make sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

You aren’t too sure if it’s the wisest thing for him to leave his son with you, but you aren’t going to argue with it. You know you’re not a murderer or a bad person in general– But your neighbor doesn’t know that. Regardless, he’s accepted to help you and you won’t argue about it.

“Okay, Megumi, will you go with the nice lady for a moment?” The man asks his son, who tries to hide from you behind his father’s leg. It doesn’t work too well, while his father is big he isn’t quite big enough to completely hide him. You lean down a bit, putting on a smile for the kid.

“Hi, Megumi.” You wave at the little boy, and you see him peek. He pulls on his father’s jeans a bit, making the man sigh. When Megumi senses he’s made himself too visible, he goes back. You can’t help but chuckle. “Seems like Megumi is shy.”

“C’mon, Megumi. She’s nice.” The man says, and you can’t help but chuckle again as you decide to open your apartment. Megumi doesn’t let go of his father’s pants, and the man ends up sighing. “I’ll get you some ice cream afterwards.”

It takes you by surprise when the boy comes to your side, but at the same time you really aren’t. It’s a hot summer day and kids love ice cream. You open the door and peek at the place. Nothing too luxurious, that’s for sure.

“Here.” The man gives you the plastic bag, which you take. He looks to find the truck where your stuff is, and he quickly spots it. He points at it just to make sure, “That’s it, right?”

“It is.” You respond, and he nods in response. You watch as he begins to walk away and you decide to walk inside with Megumi. The place is rather small. You’ll say that. The living room, dining room, and bedroom are all in one place, and there’s a small door that leads to the bathroom. To the left of the entrance is some counter space, a small stove and a small fridge. The apartment isn’t something big, but you weren’t expecting much because you’re not paying too much for rent.

“Alright, Megumi, you can sit wherever you want… Sorry I don’t have anything to entertain you.” You tell him, and he walks to a corner of the place and takes a seat on the floor. You look at the contents of the bag that you hold, and you see some convenience store snacks. Which you can only assume is their breakfast.

“Is this your breakfast?” You ask, walking over to the young boy. He hums in response and you grab the sandwich from the bag and give it to him. He takes it from you and struggles to open the food so you end up opening it for him. You give him the food and he begins to eat quietly, and you’re unsure of what to say or do. Which leads you to ask the question, “What’s your daddy’s name?”

“Daddy.” Megumi responds with a mouthful of food and you can’t help but chuckle. You aren’t surprised by his response, although he should be old enough to know his father’s name, but you won’t pay much attention to that detail. It’s none of your business. You look at him for a moment, trying to figure out what else to say.

“How old are you, sweetie?” You continue asking, and the young boy holds three fingers up when he manages to hold the sandwich with one hand. He’s not much of a talker, at least not with you. You’re a mere stranger. At least you’re glad that you know the kid won’t run off with a stranger. The front door opens and you see the man carrying the mattress in. It was faster than you expected, and he doesn’t struggle all that much. At least he doesn’t seem to be struggling.

“Isn’t this a little too big for the place?” The man’s voice sounds normal, not showing any sign of strain. He puts it right in the middle of the free space of the apartment, and you’re shocked that he was able to carry the mattress up with no problem. “Not judging… It’s your place.”

“No, you’re right. I just didn’t know how small this place was.” You share. He slowly nods before he looks at the watch that’s on his left wrist. He realizes how late it is, but he sees from the corner of his eye that his son is eating what they bought. You two awkwardly stand in silence for a second before you speak up, “What’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier. It slipped my mind.”

“I’m Toji Fushiguro.” He answers. You smile at him, putting your hands in your pocket awkwardly. You aren’t sure what to say until you remember you have to at least thank him for his help.

“Well, Toji, thank you. I really appreciate it.” You tell him.

“How about I help you with the rest of your stuff? I don’t have anything else to do today other than to watch the kid.” He offers which catches you off guard, but you aren’t going to refuse the help. “I’ll just get some toys from my place to keep him entertained while he’s here.”

“Alright, sounds amazing. Thank you, Toji.”

A few hours after Toji gets everything in your apartment, you find yourself attempting to organize everything. There’s no place to put everything. You don’t have a closet to put everything in so you try to put all your clothes in drawers. But obviously there isn’t enough space for everything so you’re putting old clothes in a pile to donate.

That’s what you spend all afternoon doing, and by eight at night you’re left with two boxes. Two boxes that are filled with his clothes, ones that you’ll leave alone. Leave them in a corner to collect dust, taking up very valuable and limited space.

You don’t notice how late it is until you open the door to your apartment and see how dark the sky is. You had plans of making something special for the neighbors in apartment 381, but clearly it’s too late for that. You really have nothing in your apartment to make food, and by the time you’re done grocery shopping, it’ll be way too late for cooking and showing up at their door with food.

However, you get an amazing idea. You go to the neighbor’s door and knock. You patiently wait for Toji to open the door, and you feel slightly nervous. Toji is an intimidating man. Although you can say he’s nice– sort of. But you still feel extremely nervous as you wait for him to open the door. You don’t want to interrupt anything.

“Oh, hey.” Toji opens the door and he doesn’t look too pleased. You’re overthinking because that’s definitely the same look that he had on his face. He crosses his arms and waits for you to say something, but you’re taking a bit too long. When he opens his mouth to speak is when you remember that you have to say something. This isn’t your usual behavior.

“I’m going to get some food and I was wondering if you guys wanted anything… To show my appreciation after your help.” You stumble over words and you notice every mistake which makes you internally curse yourself. Toji looks at the time on his watch and spends a moment thinking about your offer.

“Kid is in bed. But I’ll take up your offer.” He answers, and you slowly nod in response, a weak smile coming to your lips. You feel bad about the kid missing out on this opportunity. Although his father did all the work, you know that he was uncomfortable with you. Poor kid barely said a word, although he was entertained with his toy.

“Were you also going to bed?” You ask and he looks in his mind for what to say. He ends up shaking his head, although he was actually going to bed because he doesn’t have anything else better to do. “Did you take him out for ice cream already? I’m thinking of buying him some tomorrow because I just feel bad.”

Toji steps out of the apartment, not wanting to wake up his sleeping son by conversing. Toji shakes his head again, he had completely forgotten about what he told his son. He ends up saying, “It’s fine. He won’t remember.”

“Well maybe a pack of popsicles or something. It’s hot out and it’ll certainly help you two.” This time Toji doesn’t say anything. Popsicles do sound nice, especially since the AC system in his apartment needs some fixing. He does wonder if that’s affecting you too since you just moved in and your unit doesn’t have AC, but he notices you wear some shorts and a tank top so it can’t be affecting you too bad. “Do you want anything specific from any place?”

“I just want a beer. Get whatever you want.” He answers as you two begin to walk to your place. Toji isn’t all that worried about leaving a sleeping Megumi in the apartment alone. It’s like leaving him in another room of a house, especially since your place is right next door. If the kid was awake it’d be a whole different problem.

Toji notices immediately how organized everything is, and he’s fairly shocked because he completely left it a mess earlier. Boxes everywhere, the little furniture you had in the middle of the place. Majority of the boxes are now empty and piled up elsewhere. He does notice a pile of clothes on the floor, but he assumes those are some clothes you’ll either donate or sell. There’s not that many.

“Sorry for the mess.” You comment and he can’t believe his ears. This place is way more organized than he expected. He doesn’t say anything though, he just looks around the small area and takes in every detail. His place is just like this– Well his is a bit bigger and he obviously knows how to make space for him and the kid. “Do you know any good restaurants nearby that deliver?”

“Hmm… There’s this good place down the street. You can look up the menu.” He informs you which you do. He tells you the name of the place and you look it up. Meanwhile, he awkwardly stands around, hands in his back pockets. You realize this and are quick to say,

“Please, take a seat… Wherever you like.” You can’t help but feel bad at the fact that you have no place for him to sit on, other than your bed or the floor. He’s awkward too, and if it weren’t for the fact that his brat isn’t with him, he’d suggest going to the actual place to eat. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, and stares at you while you look at the menu, “I know I have to make a few changes around here.”

“It’s fine. It’s your place after all. Not here to judge.” He responds. He shifts around in the bed for a moment before saying, “At least it feels comfortable.”

“Oh it is. But it’s definitely taking up too much space. I might get a futon or something.” You tell him, sitting down beside him on the bed. You begin to order what you want on your phone, picking things that you think Toji might like.

“So why did you decide to move here?” He asks so the place isn’t filled with an awkward silence. He can only assume money troubles, because why else would you choose to live here? There might be some other reason though, and he might as well get to know you. He has to know that a criminal isn’t living right next door to his son.

“Just needed a change of scenery… and money troubles.” You mutter the last part, but he hears you. It’s nothing to be ashamed about because he knows. There’s no point in hiding it, why else why would you move here? Toji might not be the brightest guy but he certainly isn’t an idiot. “So what do you do, Fushiguro?”

“I’m a mechanic.” He answers. He looks around for a second, trying to figure out what you do. But he can’t figure it out through the indistinct room. He has no idea which ends up in him asking, “What do you do?”

“I used to work at a daycare.” You respond. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing here, though.”

“Hmm… There’s many places that are hiring around.” Toji tells you. You sigh in response, already dreading going back to work even though you don’t even have a job yet. You liked your old job, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with screaming children. To be honest, you weren’t in the mood for anything. But it also helps to distract you from everything. It keeps you busy. “I think there’s a daycare around here too.”

“Who takes care of Megumi while you work?” You question since he clearly doesn’t know if there’s a daycare around. Perhaps he hires a sitter, but you find that as a more expensive alternative.

“I keep him in the shop with me. They love him there. He’s in his corner playing with his toys while I work.” He informs you, which you’d generally be worried about if it weren’t for the fact that his son is clearly a calm kid.

“That’s a great way to save money. Kids are fucking expensive.” You chuckle before a yawn escapes your lips. You’re so incredibly tired, and it’s very clear. Toji can tell since you talk less energetically than you did earlier. “Your kid seems like a good one.”

“He’s definitely very calm. I don’t think I could’ve gotten luckier.” Toji looks at the corner with the two unpacked boxes and wonders what’s in them. Maybe it’s winter clothes that aren’t worth unpacking. He doesn’t question it, not that he cares about prying, but because he thinks he has it figured out, and the question doesn’t seem worthy enough to roll off his tongue.

You stand up and walk to the fridge, opening it to get a water bottle. You hold one up to show him, and he opens and closes his fist which leads you to throw a bottle at him. You open the bottle and bring it up to your lips, chugging the water until it’s nearly empty.

“Any special plans for tomorrow?” You ask, walking back to the bed, taking a seat beside him. He purses his lips together, thinking about what he’ll be doing tomorrow. Which makes you bring up, “If not, I can take you two out for ice cream. Then get some popsicles.”

“Hmmm… I feel like you’re being too nice.” Toji comments, which is something he has never done before. He appreciates gratitude and getting things, but he just feels something is up with you. There’s this sadness behind your eyes that makes him feel guilty. “Dinner is more than enough.”

“Dinner for you, ice cream and popsicles for the kid.” You say. He can’t argue about it. You look at him, taking in every detail of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’ll admit. But no one’s looks compete with him. Either way, Toji is handsome. Even with the stern look on his face, one that you doubt will change because it hasn’t changed all day.

You have a couple questions, but unlike Toji, you don’t mean to pry. There’s a knock on the door, which means that the food is finally here. Definitely faster than either of you expected. You stand up and walk to the door, opening it and taking the bag of food.

“Food’s here.” You announce, although you don’t have to.

You two end up eating on the ground, and not much happens after you begin to eat. When there’s no more food left, he goes back to his apartment.

A week after you move in is when you come to realize how rare it is to bump into your neighbor. The man in 381, of course, because you have yet to meet the neighbor in 383. You have yet to meet any of your other neighbors. You don’t really care about getting to know them or having any sort of friendship with them either way. The only reason you care a bit about seeing Toji is because you owe him and his son ice cream.

You remembered the next day, but when you knocked on his door, he wasn’t there. And every single other day of the week you were busy job hunting. As Toji told you, there is a daycare, and luckily enough for you, they needed some extra help around. Your first day is on Monday, and you feel ready. Maybe all you needed was some time off because you’re excited to start again. Maybe it’s because none of the parents know you or what you’ve recently gone through. Going back to work not even a week after your husband’s death was truly one of the hardest things you’ve had to do, mainly because everyone knew him, and everyone felt so pitiful whenever they looked at you.

It’s near four in the afternoon, and you’re carrying some groceries upstairs. Your hands are full, and you’re scared of dropping something. When you finally reach the third floor is when you get offered some help. Toji spots you and he’s quick to walk to your side and take some bags from you.

“Thank you.” You sigh in relief when he takes majority of the bags from you. You get to your apartment and you open the door, allowing him to walk into the place and put the bags on the counter. You put the bags that you have on the floor, and while you’d usually begin to unload the groceries and put them in their designated spot, if you start doing that, Toji will walk out and you won’t see him again for God knows how long. “I still owe Megumi that ice cream.”

“Right… Sorry we’ve been busy. Poor guy got sick.” Toji informs you. You can’t help but pout, feeling bad for the kid. “If you’re not busy we can go now. He’s stuck at home watching TV.”

“Let’s do that.” You smile. You put your index finger up before saying, “Give me a minute to put these away. Groceries are too expensive to let some of them spoil.”

“You’re right. While you do that I’ll get the little guy ready.” He says before he walks out of the apartment, leaving you to put all your groceries away.

You walk alongside Toji and Megumi, who guide you to the ice cream parlor. The walk– Which isn’t so long, feels like an eternity because it’s so hot out. You’re sweating, and Toji notices the sleek sheet of sweat on your body. It makes him comment, “We’re almost there.”

“Okay.” You mutter, extremely hot. Thankfully, in less than two minutes you get to the place. Toji picks up his son from the ground to allow him to look at all the possible flavors that he can pick from, making the young boy lick his lips. There’s so many options to pick from.

“Alright, Megumi, what do you want?” Toji asks as the boy puts his hands on the cold glass that separates him and the delicacy. While the boy hums, trying to decide what he wants, you order some ice cream for yourself.

“I want…” Megumi begins, but he can’t seem to figure out what he wants. Chocolate seems amazing, but that pink strawberry-flavored ice cream really catches his eye. But vanilla is one of his all time favorites. It leads to nowhere. “I want…”

“He wants cookies and cream in a cup. One scoop.” Toji ends up deciding, getting too impatient with the indecisive child. You can’t help but chuckle as you hear this. Toji clearly isn’t the patient kind. Megumi gets his ice cream cup, and Toji puts him down on the floor. “Rocky road cone for me. Two scoops.”

“C’mon, Megumi.” You tilt your head and shake it towards the table. The boy is unsure whether to follow you or not, but then again, you’re the reason he has ice cream so maybe you’re not so bad. He does end up walking with you to sit down at the table. He slides into the booth, and you sit on the opposite side.

You both focus on eating the ice cream in front of you, which is nice. Generally kids you’ve worked with are very talkative and don’t enjoy their food because they’d rather converse. Although you don’t usually mind, it’s nice being able to sit in silence for a moment. Until Toji sits down next to his kid and begins to talk.

“The sweet neighbor lady is buying you the ice cream, what do you say?” Toji asks his son and Megumi is too focused on his ice cream to say anything. But Toji clears his throat, grabbing the cup from the kid and putting it on your side of the table, a place that Megumi’s short arms won’t be able to reach. You’re about to hand the child back his ice cream because you don’t really care for a thank you, after all this is all to show your appreciation to Toji and his son for helping you out next week.

“Thank you.” Megumi ends up saying, which gets his father to hand him back the cup of ice cream. He quickly indulges himself in his treat. You smile at the kid and respond,

“No problem.” You reply. You quietly lick the cone, before it comes to your mind, “Please don’t call me the sweet neighbor lady. It makes me feel like a grandma.”

“Right, sorry.” Toji ends up chuckling. Now that he hears it, it does make you sound old. You don’t look old. He’d guess you’re around five to ten years younger than him. “The sweet young neighbor girl.”

“That’s better.” You laugh. You have many questions you want to ask, and right now would be the perfect time to ask them, if it weren’t for the kid that’s sitting down next to Toji. If it also weren’t for the fact that this is practically the second time you talk to him and you don’t want to be too intrusive. You bite into the cone and chew, thinking of what question to ask because the silence with them both makes you feel uncomfortable. Until you finally swallow, grabbing a napkin and cleaning the corners of your mouth before asking, “Did you have a busy week at work?”

“Yes.” He answers, looking over at his son to see how far along he is with his ice cream. Not even halfway done. But then again, Megumi is a small kid. “How about you? Did you find a job?”

“I did. Thankfully.” You respond. You smile at him, “At the daycare you told me about. Luckily enough they needed someone else since someone recently quit.”

“Really? That’s nice.” Toji really isn’t all that interested in your job, but he won’t be his usual rude self. He likes you, somewhat. “Maybe you can get me a discount for Megumi or something. It’d be nice for him to spend time with kids his own age.”

“Hmm… I was told I can get a 75% discount for my own kid. Don’t know if they allow you to give discounts to acquaintances.” You inform him and he ends up nodding in response. Maybe he’d be a bit upset if he didn’t have a cone of ice cream in his hand. “But since I don’t have any kids, I could pass him off as my own. As long as he doesn’t snitch, I think we’ll be fine.”

“That sounds perfect.” Toji's eyes perk up, maybe it’s because he wants to get the kid off his back for a bit. Or maybe it’s because the price of child care is too expensive and the man is trying to save up money so that he and his son can move somewhere else soon enough. Either way, he does appreciate it.

“I would have to fill out some forms and whatnot, but I can take him with me on Monday.” You tell him. He’s about to thank you for it, but Megumi puts his cup down and taps his dad’s arm, causing Toji to look down at him.

“I’m full.”

Near midnight you toss and turn on your bed, too hot to fall asleep. You have yet to get an air conditioning unit, and it’s too hot for you to sleep. You’re lying naked on top of your bed, and you’re still covered in sweat. Your windows are open, but the breeze that enters the place is a hot one and it doesn’t help you at all. At this point, you aren’t sure what to do. At least tomorrow you have all day to sleep.

You sit up on the bed a sigh leaving your lips before you get up and walk to the fridge to get a bottle of water. You put it up to your forehead, relieved. You walk back to your bed and lay down once again, running the cold water bottle through your body. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

There’s a knock on your door, which makes you frown as you get up from your bed. You begin to walk to the door until you realize you’re completely naked. You walk back, grabbing the clothes that are on the corner of the bed and putting them on. They don’t cover much but it’s better than walking out naked. You go to the door and open it, a bit annoyed at whoever is knocking at this time. But you aren’t as annoyed when you see your neighbor, who holds some papers.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Toji asks, looking over at you, and you shake your head. He has to tear his eyes away from your body, looking at the very short shorts and the white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, your hard nipples poking through– There’s some spots that are wet which he wonders what they are but eventually figures out it’s sweat because it’s extremely hot out, and he doesn’t feel any cold air coming out of your place. “I was going to give you these tomorrow but I’m busy all day.”

“Please, come in.” You tell him, moving to the side to allow him to step into the place. He puts the papers down on your kitchen counter before he says,

“Just some basic stuff for registration. Important stuff you should know too. He’s allergic to oranges and shellfish.” He begins to tell you and you slowly nod. “Sorry for coming so late, I just couldn’t find everything. Forgot where I put it all.”

“It’s fine. Not like I was doing anything.” You respond. You awkwardly stand around, and neither of you say anything until you ask, “Megumi is asleep. I assume.”

“Yeah… Little guy is knocked out by eight every night.” He shares. He doesn’t seem like he’ll walk out soon, so you close the door. The man looks around the place, seeing no changes to the place yet. “It’s hot in here, are you okay?”

“I can’t sleep.” You confess with a chuckle.

“Not to sound like a pervert but like this, it’s best to sleep naked.” He says making you laugh.

“I was doing that, but I obviously can’t answer the door completely naked.” You point out which he hadn’t really thought about, but it obviously makes perfect sense. He can’t blame himself though, he knows he isn’t the smartest of the bunch.

“I don’t think anyone would complain about that.” Toji comments and it makes the heat go straight to your face. And it isn’t due to the high temperature from outside. You bite your bottom lip as you begin to walk over to him.

You’re lonely, touch-deprived and feeling a bit too confident. Maybe it’s the heat that’s taken over your emotions, but Toji is very handsome and you haven’t been touched in over a year. Your body craves it. Maybe you should listen to your body for once.

“What are you trying to say, Fushiguro?” You ask when you’re right in front of him. He looks at your lust-filled eyes, much different than that look that you always have. A smirk comes onto his lips as he looks down at you. “Do you want to see me naked or…?”

“Who would complain? Certainly not me.” He answers as you grab his hands and put them on your hips. How horrible would it be to have sex with your neighbor? It certainly isn’t the smartest idea, but you aren’t thinking of future consequences. You feel his hand go under your shirt and his touch feels as if it burns your skin. His lips go down to meet yours while his hands go up to feel your breasts. He begins to play with your nipples as his tongue enters your mouth.

He’s touch deprived as well, the last time he’s been with someone was around three years ago. And like you, he knows it’s not the best decision to fuck his neighbor, especially since you’ll be taking his son to daycare and getting him a discount, but he isn’t thinking of the consequences. Although he should, because he knows how women are, and he certainly doesn’t want an actual relationship from this. Yet he doesn’t stop his tongue from pressing against yours, and he doesn’t stop one hand from going to your ass while the other continues pinching your nipple.

You pull away from the kiss, grabbing the hand that squeezes your ass and telling him, “Follow me.”

He does so, and you guide him to your bed. You sit down on the bed, and you give him the sweetest look as you look up at him. Toji smirks before he pushes the rest of your body down on the bed, “The first thing I thought about you was how hot you were.”

“Hmm… Really?” You bat your eyelashes. He hums in response as he begins to pull down your shorts, and he’s very surprised to find that you’re wearing no panties. His lips go back to yours while two fingers run through your folds. He feels how wet you are, and he’s surprised because he hasn’t done anything yet. His lips go down, kissing your neck and down to your covered breasts. He pulls down your tank top and latches around your nipple, gently sucking. Soft moans begin to leave your lips as he does so.

He unlatches and kisses the valley of your breasts before he latches on your other nipple. His fingers continue to run through your folds before they begin to play with your clit. You’re so touch deprived that every subtle touch is enough to drive you wild. So much so that you’re way too loud, causing him to detach himself from your nipple and he says, “The walls are very thin. Don’t want you to wake anyone up.”

“Sorry.” You mutter as he stands up straight, pulling down his sweatpants. He takes his cock into his hand, his thumb spreading the pre cum that’s on the tip before he slowly pumps it. He looks down at you, watching as you bite down on your bottom lip.

“Don’t think this is something more. This is just sex.” He tells you, causing you to laugh.

“I should be the one telling you that.” You reply. Once he knows he’s gotten the message across, he runs the tip through your folds. He slowly pushes his dick inside of you, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. Toji’s dick is long and thick. You weren’t expecting anything else, but it’s definitely much more to take in once he’s actually inside of you.

He gives you a moment to adjust, while also giving himself a moment to adjust. He shuts his eyes, barely being able to handle it. He just forgot how good this was. So incredibly good. You’re biting down your lip as he slowly begins to move, remembering his comment about the walls. You didn’t think this would be so hard.

“S’ fucking good.” Toji groans, feeling as you squeeze around him. He can’t take so much but God, is it good. His hands grip to your hips so hard that you’re sure there’ll be some bruising. But you really aren’t focused on that. “Your pussy is so good.”

“Fuck…” You mutter as his thrusts pick up speed. Your back arches, pleasure overtaking your body with each of his movements. And you’re so focused on yourself that you don’t notice how his thrusts become unregulated, until you feel that warmth fill you up, causing your eyes to go wide.

Toji’s eyes also go wide, realizing that he finished so quickly. It leaves him embarrassed. It causes his cheeks to go pink, which is thankfully not noticeable. This has never happened to him before. And you definitely know it’ll strike his ego if you tell him that you were planning on telling him to pull out, something you should’ve done before you started. He’s about to apologize but decides otherwise, getting on his knees and his tongue running through your folds.

Your mind goes blank again, all other thoughts leaving your brain as he begins to lick your cunt. He tastes himself on you as his cum oozes out of your cunt. His tongue goes to your clit and he slowly flicks it while your hand goes to his hair.

He has the purpose of making you come on his tongue, and you feel it as he’s so eager. You lick your lips before you bite down on your bottom lip. His tongue goes to your entrance, getting some more of his cum on his tongue before he pushes his tongue inside of you. It’s so good. Too good.

“That’s really good.” You say, trying your best to control yourself as his tongue wanders inside of you. When he takes it out, his tongue licks up and down your cunt before once again focusing on your clit.

You feel your orgasm quickly build up, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as it slowly overtakes you. Him finishing so fast was worth it because you doubt you would’ve felt like this before. Your thighs begin to squeeze his head while he works so diligently.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan as you finally reach your peak. He detaches himself from your pussy, first leaving a kiss on your clit. He stands up and starts getting himself ready.

“This never happened.” He tells you, not even a minute after. But you have no problem agreeing with him.

After all, the last thing you want is a relationship.

🏷️ @Instantgalaxysheep @happidiluc @Konekobby @bbqyuyuworld @slut4madara @keithslonelyreadingcorner @Tarajaxx @galactict3a @cloudsinthecosmos @uhremmi @sillyalo @klonisx @sakurasimppp @sunflwrsugar @tojianddabisslut @hiraeth117 @charismaya @megumuro @lilith412426 @violet-19999 @otakusan90s @jumpinjaxx @whatdudtheysay @jjmsg

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #daddy toji #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fic

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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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levikra · 10 months

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I have Acute Lymphoblastic Leukosis aka Blood Cancer

buckle up :D

This post should've been here for sometime now cuz I prefer keeping everyone updated across all the platforms that I use as an artist.

So - Hi! My name is Evein, on 1st of May 2023 I turned 21 and since then, from 5th of May my health decided to pull a quick one on me, propelling the events that currently make me reside at the hospital with an oncology.

It all started with a tonsillitis-like fever, accompanied by furunclosis in three places on my body, a high fever that lasted for 5 days in the first half of May itself and other unpleasant symptoms. It felt weird, I've never had such an intense streak of sicknesses kick my ass like that, but of course - I went to doctors to get checked, the classic blood testings and general examinations and stuff.

That's when on 10th of May my blood test was checked by a dermatologist regarding my furuncle problem and - after some brief moments of her talking with the main doctor at the clinic - I was rushed to the governmential hospital due to the fact that my blood results had... no white blood cells. Literally 1.83 at the accepted range being much higher than that.

Needless to say I was fucking shocked, I've never dealt with the severity of the situation and let alone while being completely on my own as a human person (working, living, providing for myself, you call it).

At the hospital, after several examinations and another blood test came the recommendation paper that doctors signed with urgency, first and foremost I needed to get to an appointment at the hematologist's. That I did on 14th of May and since that point of time, till 19th, I'd been monitored, given antibiotics for my tonsillitis-like symptoms, along with my furunclosis and after 19th we ruled out the condition to be leukosis, became my white blood cells started coming back to normal with the antibiotics aiding my immunity, but despite that - thr condition still seemed as something more reminiscent of mononucleosis (which, however, in another blood test was disproven).

After exactly a week of feeling better, albeit dealing with leftover anemia, I started developing the same symptoms back and even worse, to the point of losing consciousness and thrwoing up in an elevator on 29th of May after going out for the second pack of antibiotics my hematologist had then already approved of to use to help out.

That's when I was rushed to the hospital again and - the next day - my hematologist arranged an appointment at the big clinic that has an oncology ward specifically for my situation. On 1st of June I was officially admitted with Acute Leukosis (the diagnosis doc attached is in Russian).

Since 1st of June the treatment has been ongoing, I've received three rounds of chemo along with supporting hormonal abd antibiotic therapy. Me is balding too, ofc. :D

And thus, this story leads to a logical question - what's now?

It's day 24 of my treatment, out of 4-6 weeks of inital induction period of leukosis' treatment (the overall chemotherapy to destroy tumor cells down to <5% in my bone marrow). After the induction period, if it's proven to lead to remissions - I'm then admitted out to certain periods of time in between infusions + need to take supporting medicine by myself (hence buying it too).

As an independent freelance artist who's existence is tied to being able to do creative work out of, well, any circumstances, I was sadly forced into situation of asking for monetary support, simply because it's stupid to expect to break your own back trying to work harder when you're body is collapsing on itself.

I have a goal on Boosty open for donations and I deeply appreciate ANY and I mean ANY traction of this post. I made a similar thread on Twitter covering the situation and have recieved a lotnof incredible support that has helped me a LOT so far, but my treatment is ongoing, or to be precise - will last in its entirety for 2-3 years. With the momentary help I was able to secure my living situation and get my pet cat to live for the current time period at my friend's, but you understand how that is just a temporary measure and, of course, I don't plan on stall myself - I simply just can't afford that even while hospitalised.

BOOSTY is very sus when it comes to singular donations higher than 120$ but if you happen to donate below that or in several different ones to bypass their antifraud system (only if you wish to) - the link to a goal is here -

#levikra draws stuff #dragon age #digital art #dragon age fanart #fanart #dragon age 2 #da2 #dragon age inquisition #blood cancer #acute lymphoblastic leukosis #donations #support the artists #artists helping artists

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ayyy-pee · 1 year

Text

Two Doors Down

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x Black! Female Reader

Summary: You’re intoxicating to Aki in a way he’s not familiar with, a way that makes some strange sensation bloom in his chest. The same one that freaked him out enough for him to end things with you. Hours upon hours spent drinking the finest liquors couldn’t make Aki as drunk as he is on you whenever he’s in your presence.

In which Aki finds himself reflecting on his past decisions involving a certain neighbor.

Genre: Neighbor AU

Word Count: 7.6k

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Pining Aki Hayakawa, Dry Humping, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Reader is a black female reader who uses she/her pronouns!

Art by: NIRI

Ao3 Link: Two Doors Down

It’s too fucking loud in here.

It’s the only thought running through Aki’s head as he toys with the nearly finished cigarette between his fingers. He stares intently at the ash dangling from the end before he flicks it into the ashtray sitting on the bartop in front of him. It’s busy tonight, not too crowded but enough people that it’s a little overwhelming to him. The bump of the music’s bass rattles through Aki’s chest as he takes a sip of his drink. He’s not too big on alcohol, never has been…until recently. Suddenly, he’s been finding himself rather enjoying the burn of the bourbon he’s chosen as his go to liquor.

He has a good guess as to when he started taking up drinking. An easy way to escape the reality he’s created for himself. A reality full of loneliness. It’s his own fault, really. He’d made his choice and now he has to accept the daily humdrum that is now his life. Everyday is mundane. They go like this: Aki wakes up, gets dressed, packs lunch for himself and his siblings, goes to work and then rushes to the bar to forget that when he gets home, everyone will be asleep and he’ll be crawling into bed alone as always.

But, as dull as his life has become, it’s also a relief for Aki. He likes control, likes knowing what the next step is. He doesn’t mind chaos, though he’d prefer not to deal with it. He’d like everything to have a plan. So when Aki gets up in the morning, he knows exactly what he’s wearing, knows what he’s packing for lunch, knows exactly what time he’ll be running out to his car, knows exactly when he’ll be setting his things down in his office and he knows exactly what he’ll be ordering when he slides into his stool at the bar after work.

His coworkers laugh raucously behind him, the sudden burst of sound penetrating the bubble Aki has suddenly surrounded himself in. He takes a final drag of his cigarette before he ashes it and spins in his seat to face his colleagues.

The conversation is smooth, funny, even lifting Aki’s spirits as he lets himself finally get out of his own head.

“What do you think of Himeno, Aki?” One of his coworkers asks and Aki can see the shit eating grin he’s trying to hide behind his glass as he drinks.

Aki shrugs. “She’s nice, I suppose.”

One of his other colleagues chimes in. “Yeah, but what do you think of her? Like, looks wise.”

“Oh,” Aki says. He thinks about it for all of two seconds before he answers. “She’s cute. Not really my type, though.”

“You have a type?” One coworker asks, sounding surprised.

Aki rolls the ice around in his drink, allowing himself to remember what exactly his type was: Someone who lived just two doors down. An absolute beauty, with a head full of thick curls he loved to bury his nose in. Breathing in the sweet scent of pomegranate and honey. Soft, plush lips pressed against his own, trailing down his neck, down his chest, and further. Him leaving open mouth kisses across the smooth brown skin he couldn’t get enough of. His hands gripping luscious thighs, bringing them to wrap around his waist as he made love to the soft body of the woman he loved beneath him. If he were being honest with himself, that was still his type. It’s been some time since he’d let himself think about this, let himself remember what he let go of and lost, think about you.

He sighs, reaching into his pocket and fishing out his pack of cigarettes. He pulls a stick out and sits it between his lips before he brings his lighter up to his mouth. The flame burns the end of the cigarette as Aki sucks in a breath, successfully lighting. He takes a drag, holding the breath in and letting it burn through his lungs. The sting of the smoke hurts less than the thought of the memories currently assaulting him. It doesn't help much, but it helps enough that he can tuck those memories to the back of his mind for a bit and get back to the present to answer his colleagues previous question.

“I do have a type,” he replies. “And this may come as a shock, but Himeno is not it.”

Another one of his colleagues snorts. “Well shit, if you don’t want her, I’ll take her.”

Aki sips his drink, shrugging again. “Good luck with that.”

His coworkers are alright. Decent company when they want to be. They’re never talking about anything of substance, which Aki appreciates most of the time. He’s always thinking too much, working himself up to the point that he hyper focuses on whatever is on his mind and then he spirals. Always in his head, everyone around him none the wiser. It’s embarrassing. It’s why he likes to keep all the little pieces of his life in order, why he likes to be in control.

The music in the bar picks up, the tempo and bass increasing and Aki realizes it’s getting late. It’s late enough that the bar is shifting more into a club atmosphere, the dance floor starting to fill with patrons. Aki isn’t particularly interested in sticking around for this, (he never was much of a dancer) so he makes to turn and close his bar tab until he hears his coworker whistle.

“Oh, shit. Who is that?” One of his other colleagues gasps. He’s pointing across the bar, to the entrance where a couple has just walked in. A tall man strides in, his arm wrapped around the woman next to him. He’s got a face that is totally forgettable to Aki because all he can focus on is the arm wrapped around the woman next to him and that woman being you.

You’re clearly on a date and Aki…well, Aki doesn’t know how he feels about it. Surprised? Annoyed? Angry? He doesn’t have a right to feel any of those things, in all honesty.

The space feels so much smaller as his eyes track you. It’s been a while since Aki has seen you, really seen you. You two tend to avoid each other as much as you can, seeing as you live so close to each other. Two doors away from each other to be exact. He sometimes sees your posts on social media. He never likes them, in case you get the notification and decide to block him for some reason. On occasion, he’ll let himself scroll through your pages. Not for any particular reason, of course. Just to see what you’re up to lately. Aki tries not to make a habit out of it, tries not to think too hard about what you’re getting into when you post your selfies with your makeup and hair done. Tries not to march down the hall and knock on your door when he hears your laugh floating through the hallways accompanied by some man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t have any right to know anymore. He made that choice when he’d ended things with you.

It was never supposed to be anything more than a casual hookup between friends, neighbors. You and Aki live down the hall from each other and had bonded over the crazy neighbor who lived in the apartment between you two. Nights where you shared a bottle of wine at each other’s places soon turned into venting about work, failed relationships and eventually turned into an agreement to become friends with benefits. What Aki never anticipated was him developing feelings of more than friendship for you. He’d had his fair share of flings before, all never turning into anything. But with you, it became more for him very quickly, and it scared him.

Aki takes another drag of his cigarette as he watches you walk in with your date, a bounce in your step with the same wide smile he remembers and suddenly, the burn in his lungs is definitely not enough to keep him in the present. His mind is full of you. Full of memories of your touch, your scent, your laugh, your voice. Full of the way your eyes watered, the way your voice cracked, choking back a sob, crying for him when he’d decided to pull the plug on your relationship– if you could call it that.

Aki’s eyes are locked to your form, to the sexy little outfit you’ve worn out tonight that makes him shift in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling a bit too snug. He drinks in all the dips and curves he was once so familiar with, watches the way your curls bounce with each step and Aki wonders how long it took for you to finish your twist out this time. He wonders if the man you’re here with tonight helped apply your oils, leave-in and cremes the way he used to. The thought makes his stomach twist unpleasantly.

You haven’t noticed him yet and he’s glad for it. It gives him time to sort out what he’s feeling at the moment while he watches you and your date wander on to the dance floor, a drink in your hand. Your date wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close until your ass is pressed against his groin. Aki inhales the smoke from his cigarette harder.

His gaze is focused on the way your hips sway in tune with the music, how you close your eyes and let the rhythm take over your body. Your movements are intoxicating. You’re intoxicating. You’re intoxicating to Aki in a way he’s not familiar with, a way that makes some strange sensation bloom in his chest. The same one that freaked him out enough for him to end things. Hours upon hours spent drinking the finest liquors couldn’t make Aki as drunk as he is on you whenever he’s in your presence. Your date seems to feel the same, because now he’s gripping on to you a little tighter, pressing his face into the crook of your neck the same way Aki used to, drowning in your scent the way Aki loved to.

Aki’s nostrils flare with annoyance and he tries to pretend seeing you with another man doesn’t get under his skin. He knows he could look away, but he won’t. Maybe it’s his way of punishing himself, forcing himself to watch you move on with your life right in front of him.

Yeah, that’s it. He caused his own pain and now he has to live with watching the way you roll your body against another man. Watch as that man grips onto your hips to pull you further into him. Watch as you both turn your faces to each other, noses brushing together. Watch as that man presses himself against your ass to the beat of the music. Watch as your plush lips part with what he can only imagine is that soft blend of a gasp and a moan you used to make whenever Aki finally pushed his tongue into your aching cunt after all of your begging and whining for him to stop teasing you.

Aki knows that the decision he made to end your arrangement gives him no right to be upset that you’re moving on, trying to find someone who can do better for you than Aki was willing. He also can’t ignore how just imagining another man’s hands on you makes his skin crawl, let alone witnessing it for himself.

He hates that you bring these feelings out of him, that you bring any feelings out of him. Aki likes control, and doesn't like to let his mind get away from him. But with you, it’s like he can’t help the rush of emotions that spill out when he sees you, when he’s near you. You make his life feel chaotic without even trying. It’s like his plans go out the window when you’re around. He’d do quite literally anything for you. Except give up the control he so loves for you.

You’re dancing alone now and Aki debates on getting up and maneuvering his way through the crowd just to get closer when he sees the way your hands run down your breasts, down your torso and to your hips.

“She’s so fucking sexy,” one of his colleagues practically moans and Aki thinks he wants to put his cigarette out in the space right between his eyes. He opts for the ashtray instead.

Aki takes out his wallet, grabs a few bills and places them on the counter, leaving his cup behind.

“I’m leaving,” he tells his coworkers.

“Not sticking around for the show?” The same colleague from before asks. “I might go get her number if the guy she came with takes too long to come back,” he sips his drink, sighing longingly after he swallows, eyes still glued to you. “I wanna be balls deep in that.”

Yeah, Aki should’ve burned his fucking eyes out.

…The temptation takes Aki aback just a bit and it’s a small reminder of why he needs to get away from you. Why he needs to leave this place and just go home. He’d never been the jealous type, not until he met you. And you’re not even his to be jealous over anymore, and yet…he can’t help the way he sees red watching you with someone else, the way he bites the inside of his cheek until it’s bleeding to keep himself from making a beeline to you.

He doesn’t reply to his coworkers, doesn’t even tell them goodbye as he makes his way through the crowd and out the door.

………

Freshly showered and in bed, Aki tosses and turns, unable to sleep. His thoughts are consumed with the thought of you. The way they always used to be. It’s so frustrating. It’s like his body and his mind can’t control itself. And this is what he dislikes the most. He hates that seeing you in person, being near you at all is like a trigger for him to begin fixating. He hates that if you’re around him, all he sees is you. No one else exists. He hates that when he’s near you, this strange heat begins to bloom in his chest and his heart starts beating so fast he feels dizzy. He doesn’t understand the feeling and in all honesty, it scares him.

It’s why he ended things with you. Aki is a man who likes control, he likes order, he’s not too fond of surprises and chaos. But with you, all of that goes out the window. He’s at your beck and call, he responds to your every whim. He cares deeply for you, but the idea of feeling out of sorts everyday because he can’t control himself when he’s with you is terrifying.

“Now that she’s gone, you’ll be going back to being an uptight asshole, won’t you?” Power had asked.

“Yeah, probably!” Denji chimed in. “At least with her he was a little fun!”

Aki is so deep in thought, he almost misses his phone vibrating next to him. He quickly glances at his device, his body freezing when he sees your name across his screen, along with the contact picture he’d never deleted.

He remembers it clearly. Aki had taken you out to dinner at some fancy rooftop restaurant in Tokyo. You had a wide smile on your face, curls in disarray as the wind blew through them. You’d tried your best to push them out of your face, but to no avail. Behind you, the sun was setting. It casts an ethereal glow over you, like a halo of pinks and golds and oranges. You were stunning. Of course he couldn’t bring himself to delete the picture.

He wasn’t in the habit of looking for your contact information, so he hadn’t seen the picture for a long time. Seeing it now made him feel as though it should be framed and hung in a museum, the Mona Lisa taken down and replaced by you.

Aki unlocks his phone, swiping to the text.

You: Hey

You: I know we haven’t talked in awhile, but I think I saw you out at a bar tonight? Was that you?

He hesitates. He knows he shouldn’t respond. That he should leave you alone like he chose to do. But a selfish part of him wants to talk to you.

So he does.

Aki: That was me. I saw you, too.

He types up the next message, debating on whether he should send it or not…

Fuck it. He’s already texting you, so he might as well. The message sends at the same time a new message comes in from you.

Aki: Didn’t want to interrupt your date

You: You should’ve said hi :)

The three dots pop up right after. You’re typing.

You: Lol you should’ve. He was only trying to fuck and I wasn’t interested

You: He wandered off to talk to some other girl when I said no…so yeah

Aki: I’m sorry to hear that

Liar.

He thinks about that man at the bar touching all over you while you danced. You seemed to be having fun, enjoying yourself. Had he known your date was only trying to get in your pants, Aki may have opted to put his cigarette out between your date's eyes instead of his coworkers. He feels himself getting riled up again, but it’s short lived because your next text makes his heart race.

You: You home?

Aki: I am. What’s up?

You: Wanna come over for a glass of wine?

It’s a bad idea.

He climbs out of bed.

This is a horrible idea.

He slips on a pair of pants.

He’d ended things for a reason.

He slides his feet into his house shoes.

He’s going to fall right back into his old ways with you.

He’s out the door.

Aki knocks twice, his heart beating violently against his rib cage. He hears a bit of shuffling coming from the other side of the door and then the door opens and he sees you beaming before him.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, stepping aside.

It’s been so long since Aki has been over. He felt lightheaded from the moment he entered your space, his senses overcome with your presence, your scent, with you. Aki follows you through the entrance and into your living room, tries really hard not to watch the way your shorts give him little peeks of your ass with each step. Instead, he keeps his focus on your curls, piled messily atop your head in that cute pineapple style you sometimes wore before bed. Aki remembers how adorable he thought you were dressed down like this as he takes a seat on the couch while you head to the kitchen.

Your apartment is cute. It’s got all of the elements that make it you; from the accent pillows on your sofa, to the pictures lining your walls, and the nice glass of wine you fill with wine and hand to Aki. You take a seat next to him, sipping your drink before you start the conversation.

He half expected things to be awkward, given how your last interaction had ended and your lack of communication following those events, but conversation flows naturally.

You’re laughing, now on the end of your second glass of wine.

“And then,” you snort, covering your mouth and trying not to fall into a fit of giggles again. Aki can’t help his own grin listening to you. “And then, Denji tells me he had to—“

Your phone dinging interrupts your story.

“Sorry,” you say, unlocking your phone. Aki waves his hand.

“Go ahead.”

You swipe along your screen and Aki lets his gaze fall on your screen. He knows he shouldn’t. He regrets it immediately when he sees another man’s name on your screen. He doesn’t need to see the contents of the text, his body already reacting with annoyance. Aki can’t help the words that leave him next.

“Another date?” He shouldn’t have asked.

You look at him, brows furrowed. “Uh, yeah nosy. It is.”

Aki scoffs.

“What?” You ask, still typing a text to this fucking guy.

“Looks like you’ve got guys lined up to take you out these days.” The bitterness drips off every word. He doesn’t mean for it to, but he can’t help it.

You roll your eyes, sending your text to whatever guy that is and setting your phone on the table— face down, Aki notes.

“Do you have something you wanna say, Aki?”

Yeah, I made a mistake. You can stop dating these fucking losers. I’m here now.

That’s what he wants to say, but Aki shakes his head instead. He can tell he’s irritating you and the night has been going so well. He doesn’t want to fuck it up already.

“Of course not,” you mutter, another roll of your eyes. “You never do.”

Your sharp tone surprises Aki a bit, puts him on the defensive. The comment makes Aki set his own glass of wine down. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“Obviously not or I wouldn’t be asking you to clarify.”

You fidget with the hem of your shorts and Aki tries to keep his gaze on your face and not the way your shorts squeeze your plush thighs. He always did love that about you, the curves of your body. The way your form molded perfectly into his.

Focus. Aki tells himself. Because of course being in such close proximity to you turns his brain to mush.

“You just…any time something very obviously bothers you, you don’t say shit. You just run. You’re like that about everything.”

He knows you’re right. He knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Is this about us?” He asks, cutting to the chase.

You nod, looking straight at Aki. You always looked right at him when you spoke. He admired that about you. The way you said everything with total honesty. You never lied, you never sugar coated the truth. You were far from a coward, unlike Aki. Your eyes bore into his soul and it was something that always scared him. Like you could see all of his intentions, all of his thoughts, of his desires.

“I miss you,” your soft voice cuts through Aki’s train of thought, your confession making Aki sit up straighter, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t say that. After everything, after all this time—“

“I miss you, too,” Aki breathes. He can hear his blood rushing through his ears, thrumming loudly and he tries to calm his racing pulse so he can hear what you say next.

You sigh quietly next to him. “You do?”

Aki nods. “I missed you the second I ended whatever we were doing.”

“Then why did you?” You shift closer to Aki. “End things, I mean.”

Aki watches you closely, remembers what it was like to lounge around your place or his and just talk. Conversation never felt as heavy as it does in this moment.

That uncomfortable feeling in Aki’s chest begins to take over. The one that caused him to confront how deeply he cared for you. The one that scared him so badly he ran. Usually, he’d head outside for a cigarette to try and rid himself of this feeling but tonight, as he stares into those beautiful eyes of yours, it feels different. Listening to you laugh and talk to Aki like he didn’t break your heart, like no time has passed, it makes that feeling a little less terrifying. He wants to run, but not from you. He wants to run towards this feeling, embrace it to the best of his ability.

“I got scared,” he admits quietly, ashamed. But he’s already starting to open up. He has to keep going. “I’m going to be completely honest with you here, okay?”

You nod, wide eyes locked with Aki’s. “That’s all I’ve wanted from the beginning, Aki.”

You give him a soft smile and Aki reaches forward, grasping your hands in his.

“When we first started sleeping together, it was…great. Casual, fun, easy.”

“Right.”

“But, after a while it got harder and harder for me to keep it that way.” Aki pauses, tries to gather his thoughts before he continues. “It got harder to separate that I’m just the neighbor you fuck from time to time. The lines got blurred somewhere for me.”

He sighs your name.

“When I’m with you, you consume everything. All I can see is you. All I want to see is you. And we were never exclusive. You could see other people and so could I. But I didn’t want to see other people…” He sighs again, this time running his fingers through his hair before he takes your hands in his again. He wants a cigarette so fucking bad right now, but he needs to finish his honesty hour now or he never will. “I didn’t want you to see other people. Fuck, I still don’t.”

“Aki…” you breathe, squeezing his hands gently.

He chuckles dryly. “You have no idea.”

Your head tilts to the side, curls bouncing atop your head with the motion and Aki’s heart beats even faster.

“You have no fucking idea how hard it is to see you with another man, to hear you laughing and talking in the hall with some random fucking guy and inviting him in. I don’t…I don’t think I smoke more than when I hear that sound.”

There’s a long pause, your eyes searching Aki’s. For what? He’s not sure. But it must be good, because when you speak, it’s a quiet and gentle tone. Aki can appreciate this because he’s damn near about to burst with nerves from being so open with you already.

“If you felt that way all this time, Aki…why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“What would you have said if I did?”

“I would’ve said I feel the same way.”

You close the distance between you and Aki, your legs coming over each side of his lap as you straddle him. You loop your arms around his neck, Aki’s hands coming up to rest on your waist as you lean forward until your noses brush against each other’s, breaths mingling in the tiny space between you.

“Y-you feel the same way?” Aki repeats. He feels dizzy now, partly from being in such close proximity to you and from the fact that you smell so goddamn good. He can barely focus.

You nod your head, your nose caressing Aki’s with the motion. He can feel the heat radiating from between your thighs, teasing him in gentle waves. His grip on your waist tightens as he resists the urge to roll his hips upward.

“I don’t want to see you with anyone else either, Aki. And I don’t want anyone else,” you confess. “I only want you.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he surges forward, crashing his lips into yours, shoving his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth when you gasp in surprise. It’s a messy kiss, full of teeth, full of desire, full of emotion, full of love.

Aki loves you. Deep down he’s always known it, always ignored it. But right now as you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer to you, as you moan into his mouth and pull a whimper from deep within his chest, he knows for certain that he is head over fucking heels in love with you.

There’s no one else in this world who he wants to be with more than you. No one who makes Aki feel the way you do and his only regret is that he was too stubborn to embrace this feeling before.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though because you seat yourself comfortably in his lap, closing the distance between your groins and he can’t stop the groan that rushes out when he feels your clothed parts connect.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighs into your mouth. “I fucking missed you.”

“Yeah?”

You move your hips against his and Aki squeezes your waist, presses his face into the crook of your neck where he sucks a mark into your skin, making you moan quietly. “Fuck yeah,” he murmurs against you.

“Ah–Aki,” your fingers tug at his hair. He loves when you get needy like this. And you’ve barely started. “Show me how much you missed me,” you whisper.

He pulls back, his deep blue eyes watching you move your hips against him and he feels his dick twitch in his pants at the sight. Aki thinks he may lose his mind just watching. He glances up quickly, watching the way your kiss swollen lips part as you let out another moan.

“Feel good, baby?” Aki asks, smirking to himself when you can’t do anything but nod your head. His eyes follow all the dips and curves down your body until they’re back on his favorite spot between your legs. He could swear he feels his own eyes dilate when they see the wet spot in the center of your shorts that grows and grows with each roll of your hips. Aki swallows hard before he drags his finger along your clothed pussy.

His gaze glides back up your form until they rest on your face, watching as your mouth falls open with a silent cry. Aki slides a hand down your waist, to your ass where he taps one of your cheeks a couple times, and you know what it means. You sit up, momentarily hitting pause on your movements as Aki slips his finger underneath the fabric, tugs your shorts and panties to the side before his slender fingers slide along your folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how wet you are. He briefly dips his finger into your pussy, trying to stop his eyes from rolling back when he feels your soft walls clench down on his hand. He presses his thumb to your clit, slowly circling your sensitive nub.

Your hands have now found purchase on Aki’s shoulders where you squeeze, breaths coming rapidly as Aki pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth. He knows you’re trying to be quiet, but he wants nothing more than to hear all those little sounds he used to get you to make.

Dark blue eyes lock with yours and Aki brings his other hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip, slowly coaxing your mouth open. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he tells you. “I want that asshole next door to know who’s making you feel so fucking good tonight.” He slips another finger into your pussy, presses his thumb against your clit and watches you visibly shudder above him. His cock aches within the confines of his pants.

“Ah– fuck, Aki, yes,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Louder,” he demands. And you obey, throwing your head back with a loud gasping moan as Aki’s hands push you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re so good for me, baby,” he coos, his dick only growing harder. “I love hearin’ you. Love makin’ you feel good. I love you.”

You’re his now and Aki wants everyone to know. He wants the piece of shit next door to hear you through the walls, screaming Aki’s name. Hell, he’s even tempted to dial up your asshole date, let him listen while Aki rips one orgasm after another from you. He’d really enjoy that. The thought is so tempting. But Aki’s gaze falls to where his palm cups your slick covered cunt, where your thick thighs tremble around his hand and he doesn’t give a fuck about any of that anymore.

He slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, while his thumb stimulates your clit and he’s panting trying to hold himself together while you get closer to falling apart around him. Your hips move on their own, riding Aki’s hand, chasing your high. His fingers slip into you over and over, curling inside of you, hitting your sweet spot and you can’t help but to gasp quietly each time Aki reaches it.

You’re more vocal now, your head hidden away in the crook of Aki’s neck while you whimper and groan against him. He loves hearing you keening his name into his ear. Aki’s eyes are locked on your center where he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over, your slick coating his hand more with each thrust. It only adds to Aki’s struggle to keep it together as he ignores the pulsing need of his cock. Your pleasured moans and the squelching sound of your dripping pussy fill the space of your living room.

“Aki…” you breathe harshly against him and he feels your walls squeeze down on his digits. You’re close.

“Gonna cum, love?” His fingers thrust into you slightly faster. He pushes you back, moving you out from the space of his neck so he can look at your face. “Let me see, baby,” he says, voice rough as his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit. Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head, your mouth hanging open as a delicious moan rushes past your lips, your grip on Aki’s shoulders tightening so much it hurts. But he loves it, loves feeling your pussy squeezing down on his fingers, sucking them deeper as your release moves over your body.

He can feel your release dripping down his fingers into his palm as he keeps pumping into you. You lean forward, returning to your favorite spot at his neck where you leave sloppy kisses. He tilts his head to the side a bit to give you more access, groaning when you lick the spot right beneath his ear.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so perfect,” Aki sighs as he watches himself slowly pull his fingers from inside you, licking his lips as he stares at his hand covered in your slick. He runs his tongue over his palm, groaning loud when he tastes your sweet release on his tongue. His dick is so unbearably hard as he watches you suddenly climb off of his lap, slide your hands into your shorts and strip off both your shorts and your panties. Your shirt and your bra fall to the floor next and Aki feels very overdressed now.

His eyes drink in every little bit of your body. God, he missed every bit of you. That smooth brown skin and every dip and curve and those fucking thighs. He wants to be between them so fucking bad.

“You gonna stare all night or take your clothes off?”

Aki yanks his shirt over his head, his boxers and shorts are off next, a smirk spreading across his face when he sees how you lick your lips when his cock slaps against his belly when it’s finally free.

You approach, bending over to put your hands on Aki’s knees, prompting him to spread his legs for you. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you fall to your knees between his legs. You’re so sexy when you take control like this.

“Wanna make you feel good too,” you tell him, a hand coming up to grip the base of his cock and Aki’s hip involuntarily jerk upwards. His head falls back, a low moan already escaping him.

He’s missed your touch. He’s already worked up from making you cum and he’s missed you touching him so much he doesn’t know if he’ll last very long if you do what he thinks you’re about to.

Aki watches as your tongue rolls out of your mouth, pink and wet and he inhales sharply when he sees the little grin you get as his cock throbs in your hand.

“I missed this dick, Aki,” you whisper, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to the red tip. He hisses, hips coming up again as he whimpers your name. You bring your other hand up to wrap around the head of his dick, tongue teasing the smooth, wet head for just a moment before you take him in your mouth. Aki’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as he watches you swallow inch after inch of him. He lets out a strangled moan when the head of his cock touches the back of your throat.

“Goddamn, baby,” Aki chokes. “Gimme a second. Hold on.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, takes a deep breath to try and gain his composure…only to let out something between a sharp gasp and a loud whimper when you swallow around the head of his cock, taking Aki even deeper. You hum around his dick, the vibrations making Aki arch against the couch and thrust his hips forward.

“Oh fuck,” Aki groans. And he wants to grab your hair and push you down further, but he doesn’t want to fuck up your curls. He knows how hard you work to maintain them. He opts to bring one hand to your jaw, holding your face while your lips work up and down his length, Aki shivering at the way your tongue worships the veiny underside.

You hum again as your head bobs up and down, up and down, taking Aki impossibly deeper down your throat every time. More vibrations and your fingers come up, caressing his balls, the skin tight already as Aki squeezes his eyes shut and tries so hard not to cum down your throat. “Ah–shit, shit!”

You pull off Aki’s cock with a loud POP, sucking in a deep breath as your hand strokes him up and down. Aki is grateful for the small break because he was so close to literally drowning you in his release if you kept sucking his dick the way you were.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Your chin is dripping with your saliva. Aki stares through hooded eyes as you lift your other hand to wipe it away and he can’t help but to fall even more in love with you. You’re breathtaking, sexy, everything he’s ever wanted and in this moment he swears to himself that he’ll never let you go again.

“You’re so pretty,” Aki blurts. “My pretty girl.” He can’t help himself. He’s got tunnel vision. Only for you. His heart is pounding against his ribcage as he gazes at you lovingly. He leans forward. Reaching his hand out, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you to him, slamming his mouth against yours. A deep, guttural groan transfers from his mouth to yours, a result of tasting the mixture of your release and his arousal on his tongue and your hand still pumping his cock between you two. It’s dizzying. Aki won’t last much longer.

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you up from the floor. “Bend over for me, baby.”

And you do as he asks, climbing on to the couch and bending so that you’re on all fours.

“Aki…” you whine, wiggling your ass for him teasingly. Damn, he missed this. He chuckles, softly slaps your right cheek and then your left, groaning when he sees the way your ass jiggles for him.

Yeah, he’s definitely not gonna last long with this view.

Aki readjusts his position, one knee on the couch and the other foot on the floor. In this position, he can see how wet you are, practically dripping for him. He loves seeing you like this. Ready and wanting– wanting Aki and Aki only.

“Ready, baby?” He asks.

“Yes, Aki, fuck me, please…” you moan. “I need you so fucking bad right now, Aki.”

Aki takes his cock in his hand, squeezing hard and stroking, a bead up precum dripping onto your couch. He’ll apologize for that later, but right now all he wants is to be as deep inside your tight, wet cunt as physically possible.

He guides the tip to your entrance and pushes forward, eyes rolling back with pleasure when he feels the tip barely slide in before your walls and trying to suck him inside. Even so, he resists bottoming out immediately, pushing into you slowly, so slowly until his hips are pressed tight against your ass. You keen into the cushions of the couch, the muffled sound only making Aki more eager to push forward. So he does, skin igniting with goosebumps the deeper he goes.

You feel so. fucking. good.

Once he’s fully sheathed inside you, Aki places a hand on each cheek, spreading your ass open so he can watch himself disappear into your pussy. You lift your head, glancing back, over your shoulder to look at Aki. He glances up, eyes connecting with yours. And then he drapes himself over you, his skin fire hot against your back, and he pressed a wet kiss to your lips, to that spot behind your ear that makes your pussy squeeze down on him, down your jaw, down your back.

“Fuuuuuck, baby, you feel so good,” he whispers raggedly as he pulls out just barely, then pushes back in again. Aki takes his time, pumps his hips in short thrusts. He slides his fingers down to your clit and rubs in slow circles, grunting when you push your hips down against his hand.

Your face is back in the cushions where you’re moaning a string of incoherent noises, louder and louder as Aki begins to really start fucking into you. His hands are back on your ass, watching his cock drive in and out of your pussy, moaning at the sight of the white cream forming at the base of his cock.

“So tight, baby, so fucking tight,” he grunts, lifting both hands only to bring them back down to smack your ass. You cry out into the cushions, muffling the sound and Aki reaches around to grab your jaw, pulling you up.

“Thought I told you to let them hear you, baby,” with his free hand he smacks your ass, hard, the loud gasp you let out morphing into a loud moan when Aki gently rubs his hand over the area, soothing it.

“That’s it, let everyone know who’s making you feel good tonight. Every fucking night from now on,” He lets go of your jaw, reveling in the way you no longer hide your whines, moans, cries of pleasure. Everyone in this apartment should know it’s Aki who is fucking you so damn good right now. And it’ll be Aki fucking you like this from now on. No one else. Only him. You’re his and he’s yours.

His hands come down on your ass again with a loud SMACK and you scream Aki’s name, your walls clamping down on his cock. His blue eyes are locked on your ass. To the way those round globes bounce with each hard thrust and he has to see more. He spreads your cheeks, watches your little hole clench around nothing as he fucks into your pussy. He wants to be in there, thinks about sticking his finger in there, wonders what it would feel to cum in there. But he’s not going anywhere. He’ll find out soon enough.

Aki leans forward and presses a kiss to the center of your back, brows knitting together in an attempt to not cum when you moan softly at the gesture. His balls are so tight, painfully so. He needs to cum and soon.

“Baby,” he breathes against your skin, reaching around to rub your clit again, gritting his teeth when you pant softly into the pillow, your walls fluttering weakly around Aki’s cock and he knows you’re almost there. He rubs tight circles on your sensitive nub, kisses that spot on your back again and you moan a little louder. “Cum for me, baby. Let me hear it.” Another kiss to your back and a particularly sharp flick to your clit. “Give it to me baby. You can do it. Cum for me.”

And you do.

You let out a sharp cry, your moans no longer muffled by the cushions. Your release tears through your body, your walls vice gripping Aki’s cock, sucking him in with no intention of letting go. And that’s it for Aki. His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, forehead pressed into your back as he finds his own release, pumping into you one, two times before he fills your pussy to the brim with his cum. He’s gasping, grunting through gritted teeth as your cunt pulls every last drop from him.

You’re both still catching your breath when Aki pulls out, affectionately sliding his hand down your back before he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you down with him as he lays back on the couch.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, turning to look at him. His cheeks are pink, hair damp and clinging to his forehead. He laughs.

“God, I missed this,” Aki says, pushing his hair from his face. “I love you,” he confesses quietly, kissing your forehead.

“I love you, too.” You roll over the best you can on the couch while your legs feel like jelly and snuggle into Aki’s side. He wraps an arm around you. You’re both quiet for some time, simply enjoying each other’s presence. It’s only when Aki starts to shift that you sit up.

“Will you stay?” You ask, turning toward Aki and brushing his stray hairs from his face.

“Yes,” Aki promises, kissing your head again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

977 notes · View notes

novacorpsrecruit · 5 days

Text

Bound by the Situation

Day 21 Steddie Kinktober prompts from @infinite-orangepeel on twitter

Mature • wc 771 • tw improper packing tape usage • prompt: accidental kink discovery

•••••

“Harrington!” Eddie called from the stock room of the Family Video. “Need your help!”

It was new inventory day, which meant Keith scheduled an extra person to help with the new inventory. Three Family Video employees always seemed like too much on a Tuesday afternoon — even with the new inventory, but Eddie, Steve and Robin weren’t going to argue about sharing a shift together. Robin waved Steve off as she flipped her magazine. She knew the risk of sending Eddie and Steve off together. She may not see them until the end of their shift. But with as slow as it was, she almost didn’t care. She had more quiet time for reading. She could put on her own music and nobody would complain if they’re sucking face.

Steve pushed the door to the back room, catching Eddie with the roll of shipping tape in his hands and at least once around his wrists. He grinned sheepishly at Steve. “A little help?”

“I don’t know how you want me to help,” Steve said, feeling his throat go dry. He crossed his arms. “What are you even doing anyway?”

“I was wondering if I could break through this,” Eddie said. “Like if my wrists were bound? If I could break it.”

“If your wrists were bound,” Steve repeated.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Like if I was kidnapped or held hostage.”

“You were taping your wrists together,” Steve said slowly, his eyes traveling down Eddie’s body to his wrists.

“To see if I could break free,” Eddie completed his sentence. “Now bind me.”

“Okay,” Steve breathed, stepping into Eddie’s space. He took the roll of tape from Eddie’s hands, slowly wrapping it around his wrists. Steve could feel a rush of excitement, a pool of heat in his gut, as he assumes he couldn’t wait to see Eddie test his strength. He’d wonder if he could convince Eddie to try it on him, as well.

“Tighter,” Eddie commanded. Steve obeyed. He wrapped it around tighter three more times, letting Eddie test the restraints before giving a nod. “Perfect. Now cut it.”

Steve leaned down, taking the tape between his teeth and tearing it, leaning back to pull it apart.

“Fuck —“

Steve looked up at Eddie as he laid down the end of the tape. He had a grin plastered on his face — the same troublesome grin that Steve knew meant trouble. That Eddie was up to something. The same lopsided grin that pulled the scar tissue tight. The same grin that Steve loved.

“That was hot.”

Steve rolled his eyes, taking a step back. “Okay, Eds,” he said, gesturing to his bound wrists. “Do your thing.”

Eddie yanked at his wrists, the tape didn’t budge. He struggled for a minute before searching for another attempt. He tried bringing it against his hip to no avail. He tried twisting his wrists to see if it helped loosen the tape, but it may have made it worse. He grunted as he lifted his hands above his head, attempting pulling his wrists apart.

And Steve?

Steve watched from the distance, feeling himself go almost lightheaded with desire as he watched his boyfriend struggle against the the tape, binding his wrists together. Steve audibly closed his mouth, letting the saliva pool in his mouth before swallowing. He couldn’t help but admire Eddie as he tried to fight the restraints, his body thrashing from side to side, the chain on his jeans jingling, as he could not break free. He lifted his eyes to Steve, and Steve couldn’t hold back any further.

Steve nearly pounced on Eddie, his hand quickly covering the bound wrists above Eddie’s head. Eddie audibly swallowed. “Steve?”

“I think —“ Steve breathed, collecting the thoughts buzzing around his head. “I think we need to take the tape home with us tonight.”

“Home?” Eddie asked, his eyes big like a baby deer.

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding slowly. “Think you look real pretty tied up like this.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. The realization suddenly dawned on Eddie of what Steve was asking. “You like me tied up, big boy? Like me on display for you?”

“Keeps you in one place, doesn’t it?” Steve asked with a smirk. He pressed a hot kiss on the corner of his jaw, nipping at the skin lightly as he squeezed his wrists in his hand. “Oh the things I’d do to you like this, Pretty boy.”

“Fuck,” Eddie moaned. “Bathroom. Now.”

Eddie slipped out of Steve’s grip with ease as he pulled Steve towards the employee bathroom. “Robin! 15 minute break!”

“Disinfect the room, you perverts!” She yelled back.

•••••

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie kinktober #kinktober #steddie ficlet #//myfic #I scheduled this in the future to post when I should be doing shit so if it’s cross posted on ao3 or twitter it’s me #if it’s not then I actually did shit who would’ve thought #please imagine Eddie fighting against the tape like that one episode of Reno 911 where the kid is fighting against the cuffs

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baurbiediv · 2 years

Note

hi lovely! if you’re taking requests what about one where jack is dating a college student and he waits for her outside her class and she’s kinda embarrassed that he has to come to her dorm room but he’s fine with it and reassured her or something like that aha whatever direction you wanna go with it is fine. i’m just a stressed nursing student and jack helps with everything 🥹 absolutely no rush tho ❤️

a/n 1: this has been sitting in my inbox for a month. i am SO sorry to this anon, you could honestly beat the shit out of me for waiting this long. i love you and i appreciate you so much for waiting. and also js pretend the dorm room is big as shit 😄

a/n 2: listen to fall in love with you by montell fish when reading! (just a lil recommendation)

fall in love with you

being a college wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. with copious amounts of assignments and homework, it was stressful and that was only to say the least.

the other stressful thing? dating jack. he wasn’t bad in any kind of way, it was the thought of him being away on tour so much.

some nights you’d stay up in the late hours scrolling through twitter and seeing videos of him meeting fans. it’s what he was supposed to do, he always has a good heart and he was good looking, he was practically irresistible.

you undeniably got stressed out because of him, despite the fact that he never did anything wrong, you were just worried he was messing around behind your back but he assured you that he never was. you occasionally saw jack throughout the week but not as much as you’d liked to. classes had gotten the best of you majority of the time, you just wanted to make sure you’ve gotten everything out the way so there would be time to relax.

when jack did come over, it felt like weights had been lifted up off of your shoulders. he consistently made you better whether it was through a facetime call or a text, anything as simple as that could make you smile from ear to ear.

it was the last class of the day and you wanted so badly to go home and take a nice shower and relax, and keeping your eyes open had to be the most single-handedly hardest thing you had to do all day. your professor released the class for the day and to think that you’ve never packed up your things faster.

as you left the classroom, you saw a familiar figure and smiled. jack looked up from his phone as he waved at you with perfect timing. walking to the door as quickly as you could, you pushed the door open and quickly.

he envelopes you into his arms as you hug him back and rest your head on his chest. although this seemed like the perfect moment, you forgot that people were still around and sure enough you started to feel uneasy and jack noticed it. jack looked down below, “you okay mama? you’re a little tense right now.” he gently spoke, you mumbled something but it was incoherent.

lifting your head up from his chest, you smiled at him and of course he smiled back. you unwrap your arms from around him and take his hand to lead him to your dorm room. you began to feel a little embarrassed, not because of him, but because of the dorms.

you wish that you had taken up the opportunity to get an apartment but much to your luck, they’d all been taken. “this is embarrassing.” you murmured to yourself. jack heard it and laughed, “how so?” he said with a raised eyebrow. you sighed, “because having a roommate is weird, but you know what’s weirder? having a celebrity boyfriend and sneaking him into your dorm room.”

your dorm room was pretty big, it split into two separate rooms so it could allow privacy between you & your roommate. thank god for perfect timing because your roommate had left to go on vacation. jack waited behind you as you dug in your backpack for the key, you huffed and puffed praying that you didn’t leave the key in the dorm.

jack quietly laughed and watched as you relaxed when your fingers had found the key, you quickly unlocked the door and rushed in as jack followed you in and closed the door. you both took your shoes off as you quickly made your way into your room that you’ve always kept neat and tidy.

jack plopped down on your bed and thank god for your king sized bed or he would’ve been complaining about his back and legs hurting. walking into the closet you grabbed a simple sweatshirt (that belonged to jack) and a pair of sweatpants. “i’m gonna go take a shower.” you huff while exiting the closet, “without me?” jack asked as he looked over his shoulder.

you did nothing but close the bathroom door in his face and you could just hear his laugh. jack turned on your tv as he flipped through the channels looking for something to watch. he felt like he was laying there for a good twenty minutes and he also felt like he was going to fall asleep.

you came out the bathroom feeling cleaner than ever and seeing jack lay down on his back, you put your clothes in the laundry basket and crawled into bed as jacks arms wrapped around you out of habit. you rested your head on his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

“i’ve missed you.” said jack as his hand ran up and down your back. you hummed in response, “have you?” you said jokingly and he laughed. “of course i have, i been working at the studio and i always gotta check up on my hopefully soon to be baby mama and wife.” he spoke as he kissed your forehead again.

you giggled as you took in his scent. if life could be like this forever, just you and jack, then you’d never complain a day in your life ever again. you and jack talked for what felt like forever, just talking about what your future would be like with each other. talking about stuff like this made jacks heart skip a beat since he’s always wanted nothing more than this.

it fell silent between the two of you for a moment before jack looked down and saw you were asleep. he moved to grab his phone, making sure to not wake you as he quickly took a photo of you. he smiled and made it his wallpaper. “goodnight y/n, i love you.” he said, before placing one more kiss on your forehead before falling asleep.

#jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #bf!jack #jackharlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagines #black!reader #black!fem!reader #jack harlow x black reader

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actuallysara · 1 year

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Hey I'm sorry to bother you about this but I know you're going to the convention in paris and I would really like to come too but I've never been to a convention before so I really don't have any idea of how these events work and I don't even know where to start? Do you have any tips for me? 😭

Hello anon, this is not a bother at all! this turned out into a full DREAMIT CONVENTIONS GUIDE so I apologize in advance lol but hopefully it will help you and other people out! You can also always dm me about it, I really don't mind talking about it or helping people out in any way I can.

This is all from my experience at DINAH last year so please mind that some things might be a bit different for FRR but here you go:

DREAMIT:

This is dreamit website (you can select the language on the menù at the top on the right), twitter and instagram.

I suggest you turn their notifications on to keep updated since twitter and instagram are where they make all their announcements.

WHEN AND WHERE:

WHEN: June 3rd and 4th, 2023

WHERE: Centre Evénementiel Mairie de Courbevoie in 7 Bd Aristide Briand, 92400 Courbevoie, Paris, France.

The location is not in the city centre but there are several big chain hotels nearby such as: Best Western, Ibis and Mercury hotels among the many.

How to reach the location from the city centre: either by metro, train, taxi or uber. If you use public transports get ready to walk a bit.

GUEST LIST:

Guests are announced whenever Dreamit gets a signed contract. According to their last update (March 2023) they're now focusing on bringing more Station 19 and Grey's Anatomy guests while 911 Lone Star guests are currently on hold. There will be minimum 10 guests.

So far the guests announced are: Stefania Spampinato from Station 19 (bonus guest), Ronen Rubinstein and Rafael Silva from 911 Lone Star (regular guests).

BONUS & REGULAR GUESTS: the difference is basically on their request and their cachet. Bonus guests cost more and their activities will therefore be more expensive than regular ones.

PAYEMENT:

You can pay on their website with credit or debit card, by wire transfer and with PayPal. PayPal gives you the option to split your payement into 4 parts if you want.

ACCESS PASSES:

You need to have one of the below passes to access the event and to purchase extras:

FIRST RESPONDERS PASS: a pass for the whole weekend. It can be paid in 2 parts. In this case you need to buy the First Responders Pass 1/2 first and then the First Responders Pass 2/2.

EMERGENCY PASS: a pass for 1 day only, either Saturday or Sunday.

FAST ACCESS:

This is an extra pass that gives you priority for activities for all/some guests, they basically let you skip queues:

Fast access+ will give you priority access to all the guests activities for 1 day only (you need to choose for which day or you can get it for both days).

Fast access Stefania/Ronen/Rafael/etc etc will give you priority access for the activities of the chosen guest(s) for 1 day only (you need to choose for which day or you can get it for both days).

I personally don't recommend getting these cause they're expensive and not worth it in my opinion. Queues are not that long anyway and there's time for everyone to get their extra done so there's literally no rush. Also sometimes these priorities in line aren't really respected and queues are where most friendship start so just take advantage of that!

PACKS:

Packs allow you to buy extras in a bundle and save a bit of money. They are on sale per guest and per day:

REGULAR PACKS: include a photo, an autograph and a selfie for 1 day only for 1 guest.

FULL PACKS: include a photo, an autograph, a selfie and an individual meeting room for 1 day only for 1 guest.

ACTIVITIES:

You will get a complete schedule of all the activites 1 week before the convention by email.

Every activity gets announced on screen in the panel room. So you don't have to wander around waiting for the activity to start or for your turn. You just need to sit in the panel room and wait for the activity to get announced. Once the activity has started, you can go where it will take place. Staff members will be everywhere to help you out in case you need it. Photo ops are all taken in one room, autographs in another and meeting rooms in other rooms.

PANEL ROOMS: with any pass you can get access to ALL panels for all guests. In a panel you basically have the guest(s) on stage and you can ask them questions going through a moderator first. They usually last 30 minutes.

MEETING ROOMS: they're basically a panel but have place in a separate room with a limited number of people (max. 30 people + guest(s)). They last 30 minutes. You can ask the guest(s) questions and just talk with them. At the end a group photo is taken. Sometimes they let you take an individual photo/selfie with them instead. These meetings can also come under the form of breakfasts, tea time, board games, etc etc. Meetings can be individual (with one guest only), or group ones (with 2 or more guests). The duo/group meetings usually happens with actors from the same show or who portray a couple on screen (see Ronen Rubinstein and Rafael Silva). There's usually an individual meeting per guest per day and a duo/group meeting per guests per day.

1:1s: usually very limited. You have 3 minutes with the guest alone. At the end you'll get a selfie with them.

PHOTO OPS: it's your chance to get a photo with the guest(s). There are individual photo, duo/trio and group photo ops. There are usually 2 photo op sessions per guests and per duo/trio/group per day (one in the morning and one in the afternoon). If you want you can show guests what pose you want to do on your phone or you can just explain it to them. Obviously no inappropriate poses are allowed and guests are allowed to say no if they don't feel comfortable with any suggestion. At the end of the day you will get printed copies of all your photos. Once the convention is over you will get the chance to buy the digital copies too.

AUTOGRAPHS: it's your chance to get autographs from the guests and this is the only moment where you can give them gifts if you brought any. You can get signed anything you want, something you brought from home or photos that you can buy at the convention. You can ask guests to write anything you want on the autographs and have them personalised.

SELFIES: they happen at the same time as autographs so you need to have an autograph if you want a selfie. If you have a selfie ticket but not an autograph one, they won't allow you to take a selfie with them. So you get the autograph done and then you can take a selfie with them. You can ask the guest to take it for you if you want.

PARTY: limited. It happens on Saturday night and NOT all guests will be attending (Stefania Spampinato will be there, Ronen Rubinstein and Rafael Silva won't).

ONLINE ACTIVITIES:

Sometimes they add some online activities so that people who can't be there in person have the chance to interact with the guests too:

ONLINE 1:1s: it usually happens on zoom and you get 3 minutes with the guest alone. At the end you'll get a screenshot of the two of you.

ONLINE 3:1s: it usually happens on zoom and you get 5 minutes with the guest and 2 other fans. At the end you'll get a screenshot of the group.

SHIPPED AUTOGRAPHS: you can order autographs from guests that will be shipped to your home. Dreamit will give you photo options so that you can choose which one you want to get signed and you will have to email them your personal details, shipping info and any request you have for your autographs so that you can get it personalised. They might take some time to get delivered.

VIDEO RECORDINGS: you can order a video recording from guests. You will have to email them any request you have for your video so that it will be personalised. If you don't have any special request the guest will just record a general video. The lenght of the videos is usually around 1 minute but depends on the guest. They will be sent it to you by email. They might take some time to arrive.

TO KEEP IN MIND:

DISCOUNTS: Dreamit has a fidelity program called "Dream It Club" so that you can accumulate discount points with each purchase made. You need to sign up for it here. It's 1 point for 1€ spent: -10% with 500 points, -20% with 1000 points, -40% with 4000 points, -50% with 6000 points.

FANBOOKS: if you want to do a fanbook for a guest you need to fill in a survey that Dreamit will post on twitter to show your interest. You need to have a pass beforehand. Dreamit will randomly pick a winner and contact them directly to be in charge of it.

Bring water and food with you. They don't have stands at the convention where you can buy something to drink or eat so be prepared in advance. There are some grocery stores in the area where you can go during lunch breaks if you want.

The convention place has no running AC so be aware that it's gonna be very hot in there but bring a jacket too cause it gets chilly outside in the evening.

There are several bathrooms at the location.

IMPORTANT:

VIDEOS: the general rule is that you cannot film anything including guests except for the welcoming and farewell parts of the panel room. You can film some bits here and there of panels as long as they're not too long. They'll be making a DVD of the event so they don't want people to leak the whole thing before that happens.

PHOTOS: you can take as many pictures as you want during panels. You cannot take pictures of the guests anywhere else or during any other activity.

AUDIO RECORDINGS: you cannot record anything at any time.

BE DECENT: people are there to have fun, have a good time and share the experience with other like minded people. Every single person will get their chance and time to interact with the guests. If you have a ticket for an activity you will get that activity done. If something happens at one session and you can't get it done then, you will get another chance at another session, that's exactly why there are multiple sessions during the weekend. The staff will make sure that you will get what you paid for. So there's no need to scream, yell, run around, push people to arrive first or be disrespectful to anyone, whether it's other fans or staff members who are just there to help. Please.

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kitsuvil · 2 years

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Velvet Cigarettes - Practice

♡

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

In a few hours I see a notification on my phone, letting me know that Kazuha and the rest arrived so I rush to go pack my things and leave. "Hey Kokomi, Yoi, Lumine, I'm going out! I don't know when I'll be back but I thought I'd let you know just in case!" I call out while I fumble with my keys so I can lock the door from the outside.

The second I get down to the first floor and the doors come into vision, I can see the van pulled up. He wasn't lying, the van is pretty big, I was worried it wasn't going to fit us all along with their instruments, but I probably don't have to worry anymore.

"Hey guys!!" I climb into the car, taking a seat next to Xiao and his girlfriend in the back. "About time, y/n," Scaramouche rolls his eyes while poking fun at me.

"I didn't have an early notice on when you all were gonna get here, I don't want to hear it, shortie," We start driving again as we bicker in between each other, eventually turning to our phones after we've caught up with any stuff going on in our life lately.

"Wait so- Where is the band practice spot again?" I look around, only seeing deserted buildings and faraway forests through the windows.

"In the big abandoned shed I told you about, remember?" Kazuha chirps up from the front.

"You. I thought you were joking, Kazuha. Is this a kidnapping plot. Are you sure I'm safe in this van right now."

"I promise you're safe y/n, we drive here all the time when we practice before shows. It has a really great atmosphere if anything, it's a lot better than bothering the neighbors at Zuha's apartment," Albedo looks back from the passenger seat, reassuring me.

"So you're Xiao's girlfriend? I've seen you in twitter comments and I know Xiao told you about me, I'm happy to see you finally," I make conversation with Xai, who's currently sitting beside me.

"Yes, he thought it'd be a good idea to bring me along, I don't completely disagree but it was so sudden when he asked," They chuckle.

"I mean he does have that habit of completely forgetting to tell people things until the last second... From experience."

"Exactly, that's exactly how he brought me along today it was more like shoving me through the door to not be late."

"This still totally sounds like a kidnapping plot."

"Right."

"We're here!" Kazuha calls out from the front. We leave our seats and help carry the instruments into the shed. It doesn't look as bad as I expected, but still who practices in a place like this, this poor band. But I can't complain about being at the practice session of a long-time favorite band, I don't think it's registered in my brain yet, even though we've all been friends for a while already.

"Can you get the snacks I brought? They're still in the van," Chongyun calls out to me as I'm still in the back, trailing behind everyone.

"You should totally bring the alcohol and cigarettes too," Kazuha puts his hands into a praying motion, throwing all the carrying on me.

"Fuck you guys," I throw a middle finger while returning to the van. "I'll come with you!" Xinyan runs over. "Thank you, I can't believe them."

"Like I said, I will keep you safe and help out," She throws a thumbs up before grabbing the bag of drinks.

"Thank you," The two of them call out in unison when we get back inside and place the food and drinks down.

"No problem," I sit down on the ground as they set up their equipment. "We're ready for the first song, can someone turn the backing track on? It's already set to the right song, you just need to press the button," Kazuha explains while adjusting his guitar strap. "I got you," I press it while getting up and with a countdown the band starts performing the first song from their concert setlist, in a weird shed in the middle of nowhere.

"I'm getting the most expensive wine from the bag, thank you, I deserve it," I walk over to Scaramouche who's already snacking on a bag of chips. "Good luck with that one," He scoots over and pats the spot next to him, where I sit down after fumbling through the back and opening the bottle I found. "You want some?" I ask him. "Sure, why not, we brought it along for a reason," Scaramouche shrugs.

We share like half of the bottle in silence, admiring the music, before the song comes to an end. "Save some for me, I specifically wanted to try this bottle," Kazuha joins in next to us. I hand over the wine as he sits down and I munch on some salty crackers. "The song was really good, I didn't really notice anything wrong with it," I compliment. "You're right, thankfully it was a smooth run, I think that's the song we got down the best, we're probably going to struggle more on the others," Kazuha sighs. "Exactly what he said," Albedo leans down to grab a bag of the sweetest cookies ever known to man. "I still don't understand how you eat those, Albedo," Xinyan puts down her guitar and snatches the wine out of Kazuha's hand. "They give me energy, it's just like Xiao's addiction to those nasty energy drinks but in pastry form," Albedo explains.

"Monster is not nasty," Xiao crosses his arms. "I'm going to have to side with Albedo on this one, it kinda is nasty," Chongyun frowns, "It doesn't help with my vitamin imbalance it just makes it worse and it fries my brain on top of that."

"Well, you have a valid excuse, that makes sense," Xiao laughs.

"I'll go get ready for the next song," Kazuha grabs his guitar, putting it back on while he walks up to the mic.

"Testing, testing," He taps the microphone.

"Why would it suddenly stop working," Xinyan chuckles while she also returns to practice.

"Look, it's fun to do the testing shit and you can never be too careful," Kazuha smiles, looking into the mic off in his own world, almost with sparkles flying in his eyes. There's really such a beautiful feeling that comes from this band, just the atmosphere is putting me in even higher spirits.

The songs continue to pass while the drink and snack bags get emptier and emptier, all of us getting more drunk after each song.

"What if we take an extended break," I bring up the genius idea. "An extended break doing what?" Albedo looks up from the amp, messing with the bass settings.

"This,"

I hook up my phone to the speaker and turn on a certain playlist.

"IS THAT FUCKING BRITNEY SPEARS? BRITNEY BITCH?" Xinyan yells out, shocked.

"MAYBE," I yell back, turning up the volume and putting down my phone to go and grab her into a dance.

"That really was an amazing idea," She laughs.

For the next few hours until we see the sun rise, drunk off our minds, we forget about why we're here or where we are, just drinking and partying. Kazuha shreds on his guitar, improvising to play along with the songs that are on shuffle.

Chongyun, face red from just a few cans of beer is hammering at his drums, somehow keeping in rhythm with Kazuha's improvising and the songs. "I don't know the last time I saw Chongyun this drunk," Albedo laughs, tears in his eyes from silent wheezing laughter.

On the side, Xiao who apparently hauled his camera all the way here is taking photos, though I think by the next time he checks the camera he'll realize how blurry all the photos turn out. The rest of us are dancing around, heads pounding and nome of our thoughts making sense but it's okay, because we're having the time of our life.

KAZUHA'S POV

"When did y/n fall asleep?" I rub the sleep and alcohol out of my eyes, along with the water that has me soaked from head to toe because of the bucket that Xinyan and Albedo splashed on me earlier, my shirt pasted to my skin.

"Like... a while ago I think," Scaramouche gets up, trying to pound the sleep out of his head or else he would end up just like y/n. "Damn, I don't blame them, I'm not sure how I'm awake right now," I head to the drinks, knowing there's still at least one can of energy drinks left.

"We should probably pack up and head home," I take off my shirt so I don't have to feel uncomfortable the whole way home. I'm sober enough to drive myself home, but I don't know about everyone else. "Hey, how does calling uber sound? I'll pay, you don't have to worry." I suggest. "I don't mind, we'll definitely have space for everyone if we get a large uber," Albedo agrees.

"I don't know how y/n will get home though, I'm worried about waking them up and accidentally stressing them out," Chongyun frowns.

"I need to drive the van home anyway, I don't mind taking a small little stop at their dorm, I can drop them off," I assure.

"Thank you, please keep them safe Zuha," Xinyan grabs any stuff she brought.

Eventually, everyone departs and it's just me and y/n left. How to go about waking them up... "Hey, y/n, good morning?" I pat their face a little, nudging their shoulder after that doesn't work. Damn. I have no idea how to wake them up.

What if I just...

I carefully grab y/n, carrying them in bridal style to the van as I attempt to ignore their cold skin touching mine, placing them into the car so they can continue sleeping, if they wake up mid drive I'll just let them know it's fine to keep sleeping. I know which dorm number they have, I think I'll be fine to drop them off.

I play music as I drive at a low volume, almost dozing off the moment I pull up to the dorms. It's not safe to drive like this at all, I understand that much, maybe I'll just sleep in the car instead of driving home. I take a spare shirt laying around in the van, putting it on and then carrying y/n in my arms as I enter the building and use their dorm card to enter.

Room 148... 200... Here we go, 205!

I knock, waiting for a response for a good few minutes, before someone who looks like they haven't slept in days comes out. Then again, I can't be hypocritical, I don't want to know what I look like right now.

"Hello, Kokomi... Before you panic, we might've gotten too drunk and partied at practice, y/n knocked out and I thought I'd take them home,"

"If it isn't the famous Kazuha, here, come inside, you look like you're near the verge of death," She beckons.

"Is it that obvious?"

"...Yes. But anyways, here's their bed, come to the living area after you drop them off, the rest of us are still awake in there,"

I place y/n onto the bed, taking a long look at them before placing their blanket over them and turning off the lights.

I come into the living area to see Yoimiya, Lumine, and Kokomi playing card games over some tea. "I hope you guys had fun, those tweets sure sounded like it," Lumine laughs.

"Ok well, my excuse is it was y/n's idea to play a throwback playlist, they started it but we did end up having a lot of fun."

"That does sound pretty in character of them," Kokomi places a cup of tea in front of me.

"Thank you!" I take a sip and pause. "Is it okay if I let some stuff off my shoulders? I'm just not sure who to talk to about this stuff right now," I ask.

"We're happy to listen," Yoimiya sets down her cards.

"So... If you had someone you were friends with but you weren't really sure what you feel about that person, whether it's platonic or romantic, to what extent your feelings go... But your best friend told you that... They're catching feelings for them... What would you do?" I sigh, my headache growing heavier.

I really don't want to acknowledge these emotions.

this chapter was sm fun to make and i had my own throwback songs concert in my room minus the alcohol in the middle of writing this, this chapter is also on the longer side compared to others, but i hope it was still enjoyable and not a boring read!

taglist: @slvdsjjk @lost-wicked-artist @shhhlistenn @ventuswhat @plinkuro @shakiraisawesome @griseoo @sheiiy @luminescent-light @themusingsofmany

#genshin #genshin impact #hoyoverse #kazuha #fluff #genshin fluff #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha x reader #genshin impact smau #genshin smau

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tau1tvec · 2 years

Text

I’ve always been kinda aware it exists, but seeing it happening in something so seemingly anti-capitalist as The Sims cc and modding community, or any modding community is sooo… weird ??? Could be my age showing, I’ve been around since The Sims 2 LJ and Forum scene, where I very vividly remember everyone chastising a creator into exile for using ad-fly links, despite all they’d contributed to the community, which is wild considering how common they are now.

I remember ad-fly resurfacing some probably two or three years into The Sims 3, and although a lot of people were quite vocally against it, many of them being former The Sims 2 players, it didn’t quite have the same effect this time around. Some people would include non-ad-fly links and alternatives, and luckily ad-fly killers mostly worked, but it’d become pretty norm as the years went on, while in the background the way The Sims 3 itself was also rewriting how The Sims can be monetized, by introducing The Sims 3 Store.

Now I think The Sims 2 had one as well, but it was kinda meh… and so was The Sims 3 Store at the start, like the sets were cute, but people weren’t exactly rushing to buy cash cards to get them, esp since as, tale as old as time style, there were plenty of forums and pirate sites out there offering them for free. However as EA began, idk possibly seeing a decline in sales, they started pushing two expansions and one or two stuff packs out a year I think, and even more store sets. Big store sets, and it helped pick up steam, but it also began pushing The Sims further and further into this very, “content, content all the time, so much content, open you wallet now or you’ll miss out” mindset that I think we’ve only seen exacerbated with The Sims 4.

Yes we’re getting less big releases, with only one EP a year, but we’re getting plenty of others between gamepacks, kits, and constant updates, at least 2-3 of which are quite huge changes, that make them a bit difficult to ignore.

I think my point is, that gaming has obviously changed a lot over the years, the products we pay for aren’t quite as fulfilling as they used to be, but we get more of it more often ??? So yay, I guess ??? Still this doesn’t change the fact that we’re still paying for, if not paying more at times for less content ???

Either way I guess we shouldn’t be surprised it’s also affecting the cc/modding community, I think in the bigger picture as well, is we just live in truly different times economically than we did when The Sims 2 dropped, a lot of people trying to find other means or extra means to get money and pay for bills, rising food prices, and constantly bouncing gas prices has changed a lot of how monetization works as well, but at some point the bubble will burst. We can’t keep scamming each other like this, esp since all we’re doing is basically passing off our struggles to someone else when we do, and only for a little bit of relief… which will also likely be as brief and heavily monetized as the games we play to get that relief.

I’ve seen a lotta people become more and more comfortable sharing pirate links openly, even Twitter YouTube, and Instagram, former bastions of typically willing players and participants of paid content are openly sharing that paid content with others, and that behavioral change isn’t unfounded, we’re exhausted, exhausted with having too much and yet too little and still being expected to pay to get ahead of the line, exhausted with the cc community and the game itself, but we’re also exhausted with the world and society and it’s obvious decline in recent years, and so we’re just picking the slightly less exhausting route, lol.

tldr; The Sims cc/modding community will always be anti-capitalist, and complacency doesn’t equal willingness, pirate servers don’t exist without reason, and no, believe it or not, not everything should be monetized, if you’re wondering if everyone is judging you for posting a slightly longer version of an EA hair under early access, it’s bc we are… while we’re also looking to see if it’s on DHM.

#long post

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akfamilyhome · 1 year

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YouTube 2022 Year in Review

Sorry for the wait on this one! This is what catching COVID after Christmas does to your schedule, I guess. This will be my first Year in Review post shared on Tumblr instead of Patreon! They're freely available to read either way, but this is a more suitable place to put it, probably. For those who don't know, in each of these posts I look back on the stuff I put out on YouTube throughout the past year, and perhaps share more interesting facts about them that I haven't before!

This year has been sort of a continuation of what happened in 2021. I graduated and got into a day job at the end of that year, so this year was mostly me adjusting to things, and as a result, output on the YouTube channel hasn't been as frequent as I'd hoped as I didn't have too much time to write/continue scripts.

However, I did explore other avenues for smaller-scale but still interesting topics, including the videos I put up on my rebranded second channel, Akfamilyhome Plus! I'll talk more about those videos later in the post. And of course, I started a Tumblr account, which you're currently reading from right now. In addition to that, I've been upgrading my computer setup as well, going from my 2017 MacBook Pro to a full-fledged PC for gaming and editing work! Migrating stuff over and adjusting my workflow for it wasn't super annoying, and thankfully the videos I made in the latter half of the year helped with that.

So anyway, stuff that I DID put out! Let's see what fun facts I can share along the way.

Every Unique Level Gimmick in New Super Mario Bros.

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You could say this is the one "big" video I put out this year, and man I really wished I could've put out more of them! Regardless, what started as a small interesting discussion with a couple of mutuals about New Super Mario Bros. DS ended up as a pretty fun romp down memory lane and an excuse for me to babble about obscure Mario enemies! I was also very satisfied with the jokes in this one -- hopefully they weren't too bothersome for some of you lol

Of course, my list of what constitutes as unique level gimmicks isn't 100% accurate, some people have pointed out a few objects that actually did appear in later games like the tilting lava plaforms, but I think I still got most of them!

Some folks have asked if I'll do similar videos on later games of the NSMB series. Like other potential sequels to my videos, it's something I can consider, but considering they most likely have less unique gimmicks compared to the DS entry I'm not in the biggest rush to do so. There are still other overlooked aspects of the later games I could potentially talk about though, like the Coin Rush packs in NSMB2.

"10-in-1" Nintendo Switch Sports Accessories

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Most of the videos released this year were kinda spontaneous ideas rather than the topics that were stuck in burnout limbo, including this video on plastic Switch Sports accessories that a Twitter poll convinced me to make! Yes, it is a simple review of plastic accessories at the end of the day, but some of them actually did surprise me a little and I thought the video struck a nice balance between constructive demonstration and dunk-fest.

For those asking about further testing...this accessory kit has since found a new home. Would rather have a family actually have a reason for using this than it taking up space at my place!

Since I found this accessory pack, there are other similar ones that have started popping up in stores here as well, including ones that contain golf clubs as well! ...I'm not sure if I want to make reviewing these a regular thing though.

Regarding my tangent during the Volleyball segment about using Joy-Con strapped to your arms and legs as VR trackers...there's already a tool that tries to pull that off called SlimeVR Wrangler! I have not tried it myself yet, but for those who have spare Joy-Con lying around this could be something to look into.

I bought the arcade version of Rhythm Tengoku

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...that title kinda says it all! This all happened from me stumbling across an auction for the arcade game cartridge itself and biting the bullet, and documenting the whole process of getting it to work has been both frustrating AND fun (and perhaps even useful for other arcade noobs like me lol). I still have the cab where it is and it does still work when it wants to! Someday I might be able to hook up larger arcade-style controls to it or even build a standalone station or cab for it...but there is absolutely zero room at my place for a setup like this right now, so that will have to be in the very far future!

A month after this video was posted, a listing popped up on Yahoo Japan Auctions for the original control panel itself! ...at that point I didn't have more money to burn for both that and the necessary adapters and wiring to get it to work though, so hopefully it went to a good home.

Slightly unrelated, but it was a while since I posted an unscripted video on the main channel, and I thought I did a pretty good job in this one without stuttering or repeating too much! If you liked that and want to see more, I have more unscripted content over on Akfamilyhome Plus which I'll also touch on later!

The Famicom Disk System Cleaning Extravaganza

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This is a case where I really just wanted to indulge in talking about the obscure of the obscure. I'm sure just generally talking about the Famicom Disk System and the stuff I've collected for it would make for a great video, but there actually hasn't been a YouTube video about these cleaning kits that aren't in Japanese! I also kinda liked the bootleg disk tangent, and hope that gave you an interesting glimpse at the early gaming scene in Hong Kong.

Like I said in the video, the cleaning spray counted as flammable material, so I wasn't able to ship it from Japan to Hong Kong. I'd like to thank PushDustIn for taking care of it in the meantime and also cameoing in the video! If anyone has further (legal) ideas on how to get that spray from Japan to Hong Kong, please let me know.

For those who were interested in the footage of early Hong Kong gaming stores shown in the video, I'd like to share its source! It's from a 1990 Japanese documentary featuring a local media personality investigating the booming Hong Kong video game market (and bootlegging scene). The clean rip I'm sharing below unfortunately doesn't have any subtitles (and the only reupload with subs I've seen was in Chinese), but it still shows some pretty fascinating accessories and scenes of a time period that even I was never around for!

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Every Game I've Beaten in 2022

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And here's my latest video, from...a few days ago as of this post! It's a quick review of every single game I've beaten during 2022, at nearly a game per minute! I would've loved to have it out earlier at the end of 2022, but then y'know, Christmas COVID happened.

As I said near the end of the video, I wanted it to be less of a simple "Top 10 Games of 2022" video and instead let me share a wild grab bag of games from different generations that might pique others' interest, and reading some of the comments, it seems that it accomplished exactly that! Thank you to those who watched it all the way.

I'm definitely down to do a similar video at the end of 2023 as well, but it hopefully will be shorter. I might write down each of these review sections as I finish each game as well, rather than doing it as one big batch near the end of the year. Actually, 2 games are already on the list so far. How many will it end up with? We'll see!

Akfamilyhome Plus videos

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And that's not all, as I've shared quite a few unscripted videos on Akfamilyhome Plus this year! There have been new meme videos and core video commentaries posted this year, as well as a fun random idea I had of asking folks in my Discord server to GUESS! THAT! NINTENDO! IMPRINT! (you can watch the video above if you haven't yet)

Near the end of 2021, I started posting bonus unscripted videos for Patreon supporters. A handful of those videos have also been posted publicly since, so you can now enjoy videos of me:

Checking out four different variants of Tetris on the Game Boy

Trying the Hong Kong version of the Famicom

Write-protecting a Famicom disk

Flipping through a licensed Chinese Mario 64 strategy guide

Playing a 3DS game upside down

Messing with the GBA wireless adapter

Visiting a private retro museum in Hong Kong

Reminiscing about every 3DS Puzzle Swap panel

And throwing a Famicom disk into water!

And for patrons, there's still a bunch of exclusive videos available, from checking out the Nintendo DSi XL Demo Video carts, to reading the 2010 Nintendo anti-piracy manual! As more videos are posted on Patreon, some of the older ones will rotate out into public availability, and that's how I'd like to keep it going for a while. But if you can't wait around or want to show your support, all these videos are available on Patreon for as low as only 1 USD a month and will remain so for the forseeable future!

(It also gives you quick access to my semi-closed Discord server, but if you'd like a peek at this chill place of discussion, here's a 25-use invite link as thanks for reading all the way down here!)

That's almost everything I've put out on YouTube this year! That's not even counting the time I freaked out at Chris Pratt Mario!

This year, while I'll still be trying to get some of my limbo scripts off the ground, I'll probably embrace more spontaneous ideas like I did during 2022 as well, so I don't fall too heavily into a production rut. And after a year at my day job, I hope this year I can strike the balance between that and YouTube work more easily. I'd like to revamp my Patreon presentation later this year as well and continue to make cool stuff for it as thanks! The dream of being able to do YouTube work full time continues.

Thank you for your continued support, and hopefully this year will be a better one!

#akfamilyhome words #year in review #youtube

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edxtxons · 2 years

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Layout Carlos Pena. (Pedido)

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lemonlover1110 · 9 months

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Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 24] Seiji's Other Grandparents

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

The apartment is completely chaotic when Megumi and Tsumiki move in. Satoru is the one that handles everything. Packing everything up and unloading it into the spare bedroom. It’s a bit hectic, making sure Megumi and Tsumiki feel comfortable in their new space. Also dealing with a newborn baby as well.

Not only is all of this springing on you, but also the fact that you’re preparing to meet Satoru’s parents. You begin to get ready, preparing a dinner that you hope they’ll like. Satoru tries to get you to go out, but you use Seiji as an excuse. You don’t want to go out.

“Seiji’s crying.” Megumi announces, walking from the bedroom to the living room to drown out the cries of the baby. Megumi adores Seiji but he absolutely hates the sound of the baby’s cries.

“Yeah, thanks.” You respond, a bit annoyed because you can hear the baby screaming. But Megumi doesn’t know any better, you know that. You’re trying your best to make sure everything is perfect for this dinner, and it’s quite hard when you have a crying baby. “Satoru, Seiji is screaming!”

“He left.” Tsumiki informs you, causing you to sigh as you put down the spoon that you hold. You run to Seiji’s nursery and go to the crying baby. You undo his swaddle, and while you usually smile at his big stretch, this time you’re too stressed about finishing everything up.

“Where the fuck is your father when you need him?” You ask the baby. You know Seiji needs a bath, however, adding more things to do to your list is the last thing you need. You need a bath too. You can’t help but kiss Seiji’s chubby cheeks before you pick him up from the crib and walk out of the nursery. Walking to the living room, you watch as Satoru walks into the front door with some bags. Today was the worst day for him to decide to go grocery shopping. Satoru smiles at you, taking off his shades. “Take the baby. Give him a bath.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru responds, putting the bags down on the kitchen counter before taking Seiji from your arms. Satoru sniffs the baby head before he presses a kiss on it. “My sweet baby.”

You go back to the kitchen to continue the dinner, and while you’re focused on assembling the food, you fail to notice Tsumiki coming to your side. You’re startled when she opens her mouth, “Do you need any help?”

“No, baby, go play with your dolls.” You tell her, looking down at her. She looks a bit confused, and you pat the top of her head before smiling at her, “I got this, honey. Go play with your brother.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, and you hum in response. She walks away and you try your best to finish assembling the dish before you finally are able to pop it into the oven. You’re about to rush to the other bathroom to take a shower, knowing that Satoru’s parents will get here soon, but you hear the doorbell ring.

“Satoru, can you answer the door!” You yell, not wanting to greet his parents while you’re like this. You’re a complete mess, and even you feel like the word doesn’t begin to cover it. Your shirt is stained with milk, baby spit, tomato sauce– You can’t even keep up with the stains on your shirt. You know Satoru is still busy bathing Seiji, so you have no option but to walk out of the bathroom, picking a clean shirt and changing out as fast as you can before going to the front door. You take a deep breath before you open the door.

When you open the door, you find Satoru’s parents and immediately feel underdressed– You knew that you were going to be underdressed, you just didn’t expect his parents to look like this. Their clothes are simple yet they look so good. You hope that they’re just some older couple that knocked on the wrong door, but it’s clear who they are.

His mother has the same exact hair color as Satoru and big brown eyes, and by the looks of it, Satoru favors her in looks; you wish that as Seiji grows older he begins to look more like that, but you doubt it. His father has graying black hair, and the same blue eyes that your son inherited. They’re looking you up and down, clearly judging you by your stylistic choice. You’re wearing leggings and a gray v-neck shirt, which is definitely not what they were expecting.

“I’m sorry, we must be in the wrong apartment.” His mother says, and your face gets warm of embarrassment. You clear your throat before you say,

“No. You’re in the right place. Mr. and Mrs. Gojo?” You watch as they slowly nod. They aren’t really sure why they’re here, Satoru just told them that he wanted to introduce them to a special someone, and they assume that’s you… You’re just so underwhelming. You introduce yourself before you tell them, “Please come in.”

“Uh…” They hesitantly walk into the apartment, and immediately they’re met with the sounds of Tsumiki and Megumi arguing. Luckily, they know that they’re not your kids since Satoru had told them about the kids that he started taking care of. They walk to the couch and take a seat, searching for their son.

“Tsumiki, Megumi, settle down. Or start fighting in your bedroom.” You tell the fighting siblings, and the pair cross their arms. Tsumiki dramatically turns before walking to the bedroom while Megumi chooses to sit down in the loveseat of the living room. Satoru’s parents look uncomfortable, his dad having his hands on his knees, while his mother overall looks tense.

“Where’s Satoru?” His mother asks, and just as the question leaves her lips, they hear Satoru in the hallway.

“Who’s a clean baby now? You are, yes you are.” says Satoru in a stupid baby voice. His parents look at each other, confused as to what they hear.

“Satoru! Your parents are here!” You yell, hoping that the man will come faster to save you from this awkwardness. Maybe Satoru was right and his parents didn’t have to meet you nor Seiji. Satoru’s parents look at each other, trying to figure out what’s going on. You take a seat next to Megumi, and you patiently wait for Satoru to walk out to the living room.

“So um–” His mother begins, and before she can finish her sentence, Satoru makes his appearance, holding baby Seiji. Baby Seiji wears an orange and blue romper with a giraffe on it. Satoru is grinning as he holds the baby. Satoru’s parents eyes widen when they see Satoru holding a baby.

“Hi. Aren’t you two a little early?” Satoru asks, his parents completely shocked. They stare at baby Seiji, and Satoru apologizes, “Where are my manners? Mom, dad, this is my son. Seiji.”

They take a moment to stare at the baby as Satoru holds him down to their level. White hair, blue eyes– Not only those characteristics but the fact that the baby looks just like Satoru when the latter was a baby.

“You have a son?” His mother asks, looking at Seiji. Her eyes shift back and forth between her grandson and her son. Well, she certainly doesn’t need to see a DNA test.

“Well I certainly didn’t pick him up from the streets. Isn’t that right, Megumi?” Satoru jokes, and Megumi furrows his brows. He’s caught off guard.

“Huh– Hey!” The boy yells when he finally gets it. Satoru’s parents really don’t know how to react– This is something that they should’ve known about before Seiji was born. But they are glad that they get to meet the baby.

“Why are we just finding out?” His father asks, trying to take the baby from Satoru’s arms but Satoru doesn’t allow it. Satoru walks over to you and takes a seat next to you. You look at your baby, smiling at him, and your heart melts when Seiji smiles back at you. Satoru’s father is pointing at you, trying to come up with words but he’s too astonished to say anything. Until he’s finally able to say, “So you’re the mother of our grandbaby.”

“I am.” You sheepishly smile as you admit it. The air around you is beyond awkward, although you weren’t expecting anything else. “I wanted to tell you sooner but… I couldn’t have contacted you.”

“Are you a sorcerer? Do you come from a clan?” Satoru’s mother asks, and you blink slowly. It’s nice to know that Satoru’s occupation isn’t made up. You shake your head. She raises her brows, “Do you see curses?”

“I don’t…” You shake your head. You take a deep breath before you say, “Satoru told me what they are though.”

“Alright…” Her lips are pursed together. There’s so many things to ask, and she doesn’t know where to start. But to begin with, she wants to hold her cute grandson.

“Um… I am making dinner.” You announce as you take Seiji from Satoru’s arms. “Could you please set the table?”

Satoru doesn’t waste a second, standing up to do as he’s told. You stand up as well, smiling at his parents. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Yes.” His mother responds. You walk over to her and hand her the baby. Her features soften up as she holds her grandson, same as Satoru’s father. You really don’t understand why he wanted to keep the baby a secret, they seem to be taking it well, but considering that Satoru was hiding a big part of his life from you, he had no option but to keep it quiet so his secrets wouldn’t spill. “Oh, he looks just like Satoru.”

“I wish he didn’t.” You joke, and they both laugh. Satoru’s about to yell something, but he can’t help but smile as he listens to the interaction.

Dinner went better than expected, and after getting the kids to sleep, Satoru is trying to cuddle with you in the bedroom. You’re focused on your phone, not paying much attention to what he has to say. You’re laying on your side, and Satoru’s arm is wrapped around you, his head resting on your arm, watching what you do on your phone.

“Can I ask you something?” Satoru speaks up, and you hum in response. He waits for you to turn off your phone and give him just a bit of attention, but you don’t. “Why are you so distant?”

“Distant?” You respond, finally putting the phone down. Satoru’s head stops laying on your arm. He sits up on the bed, and you do the same. You try to act confused, but he’s right, you are distant. “What do you mean?”

“It just feels like you can’t stand to be in the same room as me unless it’s about Seiji.” Satoru confesses, and you chew on the inside of your cheek. You have so many emotions bottled up, and you don’t really want to share them. “And maybe I’m just reading things wrong–”

“You’ve just kept so much hidden from me, and that’s upset me. You didn’t even care to explain until my life was in danger. Also the whole dating Leiko thing… I just haven’t had the time to process it all because I’m focused on Seiji.” You answer, and he understands where you’re coming from even though he’s so impatient.

“You do know that the whole thing with Leiko was a sham, right?” Satoru tells you. “I just wanted to protect you, even if it meant hurting your feelings and putting her in danger.”

“I know, Satoru. It’s still a lot to take in.” You answer, laying on your side again and using your phone. Satoru kisses your cheek.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting here.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo

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rouiyan · 9 months

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𝘞𝘌’𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚 ; 𝘛𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌𝘙 [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]

⧏ RELEASED — READ FULL FIC HERE ⧐

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

✧ full fic w/c : 25.2k ✧ teaser w/c : 828 ✧ teaser disclaimers : food tw, knife tw, profanity

author's note — uhh.. well this is kinda awkward. i know i haven't posted content in a long ass time... sadly, this is by no means an official return to writing, but instead a piece that i've written on and off for over two years! now that i've been given a window of unoccupied time to finish it to my liking, i hope you look forward to it! i've missed you all btw

「 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.

"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."

"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."

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

#nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee #nct mark #mark x reader #mark lee scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fics #mark lee fluff

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jadeyharls · 4 months

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=> Jade: Go home after a lovely holiday with friends and family.

“I’ll text you tomorrow, okay John?” You bid farewell to your brother, giving a quick wave to Roxy for good measure. You figured the couple could enjoy some alone time after the chaos of hosting Christmas Day this year. Everyone else was starting to trickle out of the house, and you weren’t about to overstay your welcome. Besides, your social battery was starting to feel a bit drained. You could stand to curl up with your pets in the plushie pile for an hour or two before reaching out to one of your out of timeline companions. Maybe nap away the Crocker induced food coma that was starting to rear its head.

A flash of green, and you’re back in your bedroom once more. You know Jake and Dirk dipped out about half an hour before you did. You imagined they were downstairs somewhere doing only god knows what. Frankly, you didn’t care right now. The soft embrace of the plush pile was calling your name. You didn’t want to completely nap the remainder of the evening away though. Better set yourself a wake-up call.

“Gilligan,” You yawn, giving a big stretch before shucking the light jacket you’d worn over your sweater. “Set me a timer for an hour and a half, would you?”

Silence. Strange… Usually, the little robotic bird would be hovering around you by the time you called his name, yet you couldn’t hear the hum of metallic wings nor his usual twittering chatter. Actually, now that you think about it, where was the rest of your pack for that matter.

“Guys?” You call, to no response, perplexing you further until finally Olena pokes her head out of the bathroom and pads over to you. On her face was a look of concern that only the foxlike creature could give as she guided you towards the entrance to the next room.

At first glance, you found yourself perplexed. Dinah, Oleander, and Orion all were seated on the floor glancing up at counter where Poppy was staring down at something in the sink was whirring in a way that almost sounded distressed or in pain. Your eyes went wide in horror as you realized what it was. Gill, occasionally convulsing as he struggled to function. Rushing over, you scooped up the tiny bot to check him over. No physical damage. Had the glitches somehow gotten this much worse? Damn it, you knew you should have run more tests, but- SHIT!

You almost drop him as a spark caused by overheating pops near one of his neck joints. Okay, this is bad. This is really, really bad. You need to get down to the lab pronto.

#((I'll provide some context info in a bit #but... this is story time part 1 out of like 3 I think.))#action post

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alexhalcyonwriting · 1 year

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healing hands, chasing hearts

Jungkook has been chasing love his whole life: in his Quidditch, and for his heart.

Jimin has spent his lifetime healing other people's hurts.

When an accident lands Jungkook into the care of Jimin's hands, he thinks he's met his match, and Jimin feels like he never has before. Neither of them want to let go of what they've found.

Pairing: jikook -- healer jm x quidditch star jk

Rating: M+18, NSFW

Tags: one-shot, potter-verse, strangers to lovers, fluff, falling in love, first dates, getting to know one another, romantic fluff, injury recovery

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff and sweetness, smut

Word Count: complete, 6.3k

summary: after hooking up in London at Yoongi's disaster of a non-wedding, Taehyung and Jungkook find out how hard it is to stay away from someone you found an unexpected connection with, and how perfectly things work out sometimes - even with an overprotective older brother, and when it's all a big secret from everyone they know.

originally written for S2 of the bts hogwarts fest on twitter

Reposting and/or translating is prohibited. Works are available on my ao3 or twitter

THE DAILY PROPHET -- SPORTS

BRITAIN’S SUPERSTAR CHASER, JUNGKOOK JEON, RUSHED TO ST. MUNGOS AFTER BRUTAL BASH WITH WAYWARD BLUDGER IN MAGPIES-CANNONS SHOWDOWN

The Chaser, known for his spectacular, death-defying aerial showmanship and team spirit, has fallen victim to his own grandiose talents after taking a bludger to the neck during Sunday’s Montrose-Chudley match.

Jeon, 24, is hailed as England’s greatest Chaser in over a hundred years, and considered a national hero after he almost single-handedly won England its first Quidditch World Cup in forty years over power-house Bulgaria.

The supporters from both teams were deathly quiet when the bludger knocked him off his broom and he fell almost thirty feet before Montrose substitute player, Taehyun Kang, swooped off the team bench to catch him before he hit the ground.

Cannons Beater, Alfred Whitehorse, who hit the bludger into the pack of Chaser’s hankering for the loose quaffle, expressed remorse after Jeon was carted away and rushed to St. Mungo’s.

“Quidditch is a bloody business, but I’d never properly want to cause injury to anyone, especially not to a player like Jeon,” Whitehorse remarked, almost in tears. “He’s an all round good lad too. Bloody hell, he’s a tough kid, he’ll be right, right?”

The magical community, fans and general public alike, all wait anxiously for updates on Jeon’s condition. No word has been received from the Montrose Magpie’s organisation, or from St. Mungo’s at this time.

“Healer Park!”

Jimin paused in the hallway toward the break room and turned back to see his supervisor the Healer-in-Charge, Humphrey Blusterworth, a stout man with red-cheeks and a growing belly he claimed was due to age but everyone knew he always had extra helpings of the lemon tarts his wife made, was rushing toward him.

“Healer Park, quickly, quickly, follow me,” Healer Blusterworth ordered, a little breathless.

“But I - my break…” Jimin trailed off. He was hungry, it was after lunch and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“No time, Park! We have a very important patient coming in, and you’re needed.”

That caught Jimin’s attention, with a sigh, he followed along to the elevator, where Healer Blusterworth shooed the other Healer’s out and told the ever silent and droopy-eared house elf manning the elevator - Percy, Jimin managed to extract out of him one day when he’d shared a bag of treats from Zonko’s with him a few years back - to the ground floor.

The elevator ride was smooth and speedy from the third floor to the ground floor, where Jimin was usually found, but Potions and Plant Poisoning had been understaffed. Since his sub-specialty was potions, he’d been reassigned from Artefact Accidents for the day.

“The patient is Jungkook Jeon,” Healer Blusterworth told Jimin, whose eyes widened at the name. “Bludger to the neck during the match. Very important work to do, Park, or we’ll have the entire British Quidditch league, all their fans, and the whole bloody nation on our necks.”

Jungkook Jeon. Jimin hadn’t seen him in person since he was a wide-eyed, gangly, Quidditch-mad fifth year. Everyone had known him at Hogwarts as the Quidditch kid, the Ravenclaw Chaser who pulled Championships for their house four years straight. As a Slytherin, Jimin hadn’t enjoyed watching his House lose, but then again, he hadn’t watched that much Quidditch either - he spent most of his time studying. Still, Jungkook was one of those kids that everyone knew, or knew of. So Jimin vaguely remembered him from school, and felt that strange kind of pride that someone he’d almost known had become wildly successful with a reputation for being a decent person too.

“Right, understood,” Jimin replied, immediately dropping into his Healer mindset, trying to put aside nerves in favour of professionalism and sharp thinking.

They exited the elevator. Jimin gave Percy a smile, which was ignored, but he didn’t mind, and hurried after Blusterwoth, who was surprisingly quick despite his stumpy little legs. They hurried past reception, and Jimin waved to the Welcome Witch who called out the room number they needed to go to. The private ward, of course.

They reached the door, and Healer Blusterworth gave Jimin a pointed look, his eyes screamed not to mess it up. He took a deep breath, and walked in.

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

“I guess that bludger really killed me, huh.”

Jimin turned at the sound of Jungkook’s low, slurred voice and hiccup of a laugh. He wasn’t concerned by the statement, a lot of patients said things like that after major procedures; the magical high lingered to keep them from feeling too much pain while they healed. Jungkook was definitely feeling it; his eyes were glazed and smile was dopey.

“Not quite, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin smiled, putting down the clipboard at the end of the bed.

“Must have,” Jungkook sighed dreamily. “‘Cause you look like an angel.”

Jimin's smile widened, he couldn’t help it. What a smooth talker, he wondered if it was a side-effect of the healing, or if he really was like that in real life.

“All right, superstar,” Jimin chuckled. “You seem to be feeling better. That lightheadedness should be wearing off quickly now that you’re awake. Are you thirsty?”

Jungkook smacked his lips together. “Yes. My mouth is… icky.”

Oh, no. He was cute. Now that Jimin had a better look at him, the very vague memories he had of him from school matched with what he saw now. Big eyes on a sweet looking face. Although the Jungkook of back then wasn’t the… man he most certainly was now. But Jimin tried not to focus on that. Tried.

The jug of water on the bedside table poured itself into a glass, and Jimin’s silent spell had the bed rising slowly to have Jungkook put into a sitting position. He seemed to be coming down. His blinking was less languid, and the glaze of his eyes was clearing, and the dopiness faded from his expression.

The glass hovered and waited to be taken, and Jimin handed it over to Jungkook, who took it and drank a few sips before taking a large gulp.

“Thank you,” he said, smacking his lips together a few times to moisten them. “That’s much better.”

“Not a worry,” Jimin replied, taking back the glass and letting it go in the air, where it hovered for a moment before lowering itself back down to its place by the jug. “Are you feeling more clear headed?”

Jungkook nodded. He took a few deep breaths and Jimin watched as he cautiously raised his hand to pat at his neck, where he’d been hit.

“The bludger broke two vertebrae in your neck, and badly damaged your trapezius muscles on the right side. Thankfully your spinal cord was not injured, it’s a miracle, really. That takes much, much longer to repair, and there is no guarantee you wouldn’t be paralyzed.”

Jungkook looked at him with wide, scared eyes.

“I know it’s terrifying,” Jimin said softly, “It’s not my intention to frighten you, I just want you to know how lucky you are. You’re going to be okay.”

“That’s… a lot. Wow. Okay, that’s - wow.” He cleared his throat, and Jimin waited patiently. “Um, what’s the Healer’s name that healed me? I’d like to thank them.”

At that, Jimin felt a flood of warmth. “Healer Park,” he said with a smile. “And I’m grateful for your gratitude.”

Jungkook’s mouth opened in a surprise ‘O’, and then he grinned widely. “Healer Park, thank you for saving my neck.”

Jimin laughed at the literal and metaphorical pun, and when his laughter eased, he saw Jungkook staring at him and flushed at the attention. He cleared his throat.

“We, uh, you’ll need to stay overnight but I think you’ll be fine to go home in the morning. You’ll have to take a healing potion for a few days at home, and I’d suggest taking it easy and not training for a few days.”

At that, Jungkook frowned, as Jimin expected.

“I know it’s difficult to step back from something you want to do, and in the middle of the season. I won’t prohibit it, but if you want to be at your best, taking a few days to recover instead of pushing yourself will benefit you and your team in the long run.”

Jungkook huffed out some air. “I know you’re right, it just feels wrong to take a break…”

“You’re still as Quidditch mad as you were at school, then?” Jimin wondered.

“We - I don’t remember…” Jungkook was surprised and seemed embarrassed.

“I didn’t expect you to remember me. I was two years ahead of you,” Jimin explained easily and unaffected. “Even if I wasn’t never particularly interested in anything outside of my studies, it was impossible not to know who you were at Hogwarts.”

Jungkook went red and groaned. “Oh, god. I hope you didn’t believe everything you heard back then, some of the rumours were ridiculous.”

“Of course not,” Jimin assured him, amused.

“Park… What’s your first name?” Jungkook asked.

“Jimin. Jimin Park. Slytherin.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow and stared at him. “You… dyed your hair. It used to be black,” he said slowly, as if recalling a memory.

Jimin blinked, surprised. It was true. Once he moved out of his parents home and gained independence after working, he started to dye his hair. He liked it blonde, as it was now.

“Oh!” Jungkook exclaimed suddenly. “Namjoon used to have a crush on you!”

Jimin gaped. “What? Namjoon Kim?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. He used to tutor me in the common room, so we were friends even though he was three years older. He mentioned you a few times.”

“That’s… flattering.”

Jimin didn’t know what to say. He’d been friendly with Namjoon. He’d been a year older, and they’d had to work together when Jimin was a prefect and Namjoon was Head Boy. The last he’d heard, Namjoon was an Unspeakable.

There was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal Healer Blusterworth.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon, you’re awake,” he said pleasantly.

“This is the Healer-in-Charge, Healer Blusterworth,” Jimin introduced him to Jungkook.

He turned to his supervisor and informed him of Jungkook’s condition and his recommendations. He held his tongue while Blusterworth took over and claimed half of Jimin’s work as his own. Jungkook sat there with a patient look on his face, but he glanced over at Jimin from time to time, and when Jimin caught his gaze he rolled his eyes a little. At least he could see through it; that was nice, for a change.

After that, Jimin was forced to leave Jungkook when his coach and teammates arrived. He didn’t want to go, somehow. Those few minutes they’d been talking had been really pleasant. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught Jungkook staring at him. At the big smile he received when they met eyes, Jimin couldn’t help but smile back, heart alight, and try to force down his blush.

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

Jungkook woke up for the second time in the presence of an angel.

He didn’t make a fool of himself this time by spouting nonsense. He kept quiet, and watched as Healer Park - Jimin - furrowed his brow as he checked over something on a clipboard, the feather quill hovering over the parchment. His tongue was poking out just a little bit, and his nose was scrunched to one side.

Jungkook was absolutely certain he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he didn’t even mean appearance-wise, although he definitely was stunning - he could’ve claimed to be part-veela and Jungkook would have believed him. It was his aura. Something radiated from Jimin; warmth, goodness, comfort. Just looking at him, talking to him… Jungkook felt like he could feel Jimin’s soul, and it was beautiful. He wanted to know him.

He blinked when Jimin suddenly looked up and caught him staring.

“Oh. Good morning, Mr. Jeon,” he greeted with a smile.

Oh, that smile was going to kill Jungkook. Bludgers had nothing on how knocked-out he felt at the sight of that smile.

“Jungkook,” he corrected. “Just Jungkook is fine.”

“Okay, Just Jungkook,” Jimin giggled, and Jungkook grinned at the silliness of it. “It looks like you’ve responded well to the treatment, and you’ll be free to head home in a few hours. Have they brought you breakfast yet?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve just woken up.”

“I’ll ask them to send the trolley for you,” Jimin said. The clipboard followed Jimin around as he walked to the side of the bed and pulled a potion out of his pocket. “Now, this is for you. It won’t taste good at all - ” Jungkook swore he almost died from aggressive cuteness at the sight of Jimin’s scrunched up, disgusted expression as he spoke about the potion, “ - but you have to drink it all. Not one drop can go to waste if you want the potion to do its work. You only need to drink it once per day… it might be better to drink it in the evening or when you’re alone because it will, ah, be useful if you need to relieve yourself.”

Jungkook snorted at Jimin’s roundabout, embarrassed explanation, but he felt mildly embarrassed as well. At least Jimin gave him a smile back like they were in it together.

“This potion is for today, and when you’re leaving, I’ll provide you a pack for the week with instructions and further recommendations for your recovery.”

He was very professional, and Jungkook admired that.

“Did you always want to be a Healer?” He wondered.

Jimin was surprised by the question, but he answered it quickly. “I did. My father is a muggle doctor, a surgeon, and my mother is a Magizoologist, so I grew up learning about two very different types of healing. But honestly, I can’t fathom how my father can bear to use scalpels and stitches.” He shuddered. “I admire him a lot, because muggle healing is very difficult and different from magical healing, but I couldn’t do it. He’s quite jealous of us.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile at the clear love in Jimin’s voice for his parents, and passion in his voice.

“I’ve never met a muggle doctor. They have such a terrifying reputation,” Jungkook said.

Jimin laughed. “I know. Whenever my father introduces himself and tells wizards what he does, they’re all so horrified. Now he doesn’t bother to explain, he makes up professions instead, like a paddle boarding instructor, and no one ever knows the truth.”

Jungkook didn’t know what paddle boarding was, but, “He sounds like a laugh,” Jungkook grinned.

“He is. He’s quite a big fan of Quidditch too,” Jimin said pointedly.

“I hope he’s a Montrose fan.”

“His favourite player is Hoseok Jung,” Jimin grinned, and laughed when Jungkook groaned.

It was very common knowledge that Jungkook and Hoseok Jung had a rivalry dating back to Hogwarts. Although Hoseok was three years his senior, they were murderous with each other on the field. He was a Keeper, and made it his mission to never allow Jungkook to get a quaffle past him. They were quite good friends, since they played together on the national team, but during the league games all bets were off.

“I take it back, he sounds dreadful,” Jungkook joked.

Jimin laughed, half bent over, like he was laughing with his entire body, and Jungkook knew at that moment that this couldn’t be the end of their conversations. He couldn’t leave St. Mungo’s without the promise of seeing him again.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He asked suddenly, taking his chance.

Jimin straightened up. “Busy? Uh, why?” Jimin’s cheeks were pink, Jungkook wanted to eat them. In a non-creepy, romantic kind of way.

“I would like to go on a date with you,” he stated with far more confidence than he felt.

He never asked people on dates. Usually they asked him. He didn’t want to sound conceited, but he was well known and sought after, although he knew it was mostly superficial. He didn’t often accept any invitations; usually they only cared he was Jungkook Jeon, famous Quidditch player. But Jimin… he felt different, he was different. He didn’t look at him like he was someone famous, or speak to him like he wasn’t a regular person. He was just Jungkook talking to Jimin, and he wanted more of it.

Jimin was quiet for a moment, but Jungkook could read his emotions as they passed over his eyes; surprise, light confusion, and then settled on happiness.

“I’d love to.” He smiled like he meant it: bright, happy, until his eyes were just about shut. Beautiful. It made Jungkook’s heart twist. “But tomorrow I have work until 8 p.m. Is that too late?”

“I’d meet you at three in the morning if you asked,” Jungkook replied, only half-joking.

“Cheesy,” Jimin giggled. His cheeks seemed permanently pink, and Jungkook loved how it looked on him. “But maybe I like that.”

“Oh, I can be plenty cheesy. I am made of cheese,” Jungkook joked stupidly, and was rewarded with another laugh and fond eye roll, and he was already so gone for the Healer it wasn’t funny.

But it was okay, because from the way that Jimin was blushing, and the little smiles and happy eyes, he had a feeling it wasn’t totally one-sided.

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

“What’s with you mate?” Yugyeom, Jungkook’s fellow Chaser and best friend, sat down on the bench beside him, lowering his broom gently to the grass. “You’re looking far too happy for sitting out of training.”

Jungkook hadn’t been able to wipe the smile from his face all day long. He was too excited for his date with Jimin.

“I have a date tonight,” he admitted.

Yugyeom’s eyes widened in surprise. “With who?”

“Jimin Park,” Jungkook sighed dreamily. “He was my Healer at St. Mungo’s.”

“The short blonde one?” Yugyeom questioned with a cheery whistle. “Looking at you, pulling all the fit ones.”

Jungkook elbowed his side. “It’s not just that,” he said, still smiling. “He’s amazing.”

“You met him once,” Yugyeom deadpanned.

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I’m telling you, Yugy, I think this is it for me. He’s… I just have this feeling, you know?”

“I don’t… but I believe you,” Yugyeom replied, mouth soft with a smile. “Just be careful, yeah? I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Jungkook waved his hand. “Jimin’s nothing like Charlie.”

“Yugyeom!”

Coach called for him sharply, and Jungkook patted his shoulder. He sighed and picked up his broom, mounted it, and flew back into training. Jungkook took a deep breath in and sighed.

He knew Yugyeom was just looking out for him. He was a hopeless romantic, and it had led him into trouble in the past. He was too trusting, too quick to dive in. It led to a six-month relationship with Charlie Thistledon, a wizard who worked for the International Association of Quidditch. It took a while before Jungkook figured out Charlie wanted Jungkook for his name and prestige, nothing more. It had been hard to get over - not the heartbreak, necessarily, but the feeling of betrayal.

One of the best things Jungkook had learned from Quidditch was how to pick himself and move on. Bad things happened, feelings got hurt, bones broken, mistakes were made - but it did no good to dwell on it. You have to keep moving forward to find your feet again, so he felt the same about his heart.

Jimin Park had something about him, something special, something unique to him that had caught Jungkook’s attention. He wasn’t going to let a past hurt stop him from finding out what it was - he couldn’t if he tried, his heart was too inclined to find the place it belonged.

Training was finished, his teammates headed to wash up, and Jungkook was antsy to leave. He wanted to get back to London in time to wash after travelling the Floo Network before he met Jimin.

His coach and his team captain, Archie Archibald, stopped him from leaving as quickly as he wanted to discuss his participation over the next few days before their match against Pride of Portree. He was glad it wasn’t going to be a particularly difficult match - Portree were hanging around the bottom of the ladder for the fifth year in a row - but he had an idea to let Taehyun Kang take the field in his place. The kid was basically fresh from Hogwarts and determined to prove himself. Luckily, the coach and Archie both agreed it would be good to blood him.

Jungkook flew home, sitting upright and carefree. He loved flying, it was so freeing. Up in the sky, there was nothing he couldn’t do. He’d had to learn to balance that illusion of invincibility with reality. Professional Quidditch had beaten that into him, particularly his first year in the league, when he’d learned the hard way that being the best at Hogwarts didn’t mean anything, and feeling like your veins ran with wind and the sky was your heart didn’t mean your broom was anything more than just a magical broom.

With the salty, ocean air blowing through his hair, Jungkook took a moment to close his eyes and let go. Let go of the pressure building in the back of his mind about missing training, about getting an injury at all, at what the fans might think, at how he was letting down his team. It was hard to block off the part of himself that wanted to compete, wanted to succeed, wanted to be the best, and had to prove it. Just for today, he wanted to forget Quidditch.

He had a date with a cute Healer, after all.

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

Jimin fiddled nervously with the tufts of hair visible under his beanie, tickling his forehead. The night air was chilly, and his nose was cold, but his racing heart was keeping him warm. His eyes wandered around the area, scanning for his date. Time ticked by, closer and closer to the hour they’d set to meet, but there was still no sight of him.

Being a half-blood gave Jimin a lot of advantages, with a foot in both the muggle and magical worlds. He had been so thrilled, and flattered, and giddy at Jungkook asking him for a date it had taken him a moment to remember that Jungkook was quite famous, and he was recovering from injury. So he suggested a date in the muggle world. He’d been nervous about Jungkook’s reaction, but he’d seemed curiously delighted which relieved Jimin.

He suggested they meet a few blocks back from the Leaky Cauldron, on the edge of the wizarding area of London, and to just walk around until they found somewhere they’d like to sit when they were hungry. Jimin wasn’t interested in high-pressure dates - he lived a high pressure life, with people's lives, limbs, health, and death in his hands daily. Taking a break from that stress was what he needed. He hoped Jungkook understood. He might even feel the same, considering his gruelling Quidditch work and the celebrity he’s acquired over the years.

“Jimin!” He heard his name called out by a familiar voice and turned to see Jungkook striding toward him, a beaming smile on his face, his hand waving madly. A few people looked at him strangely, but he paid them no mind, and Jimin found his actions completely charming.

Jungkook came to a stop in front of him, and Jimin was smiling so happily he could barely see through his eyes, his cheeks were pushed up so high.

“Jungkook, you found me. I hope it wasn’t too hard to get here.”

He shook his head. “No, I was just worried about being late. Training ran late so I had to rush to wash up.”

Jimin frowned at that. “You were training?”

“No! No, no,” Jungkook shook his head. “I meant wash up after the Floo trip. I keep putting off getting some maintenance done on my London base, so it’s a little dusty.” He scratched the back of his neck, bashfully, his smile a little embarrassed.

“As long as you rest well,” Jimin said with a smile. “Shall we?”

Jungkook nodded. “So you’re going to show me muggle London?” He asked, eagerness in his voice.

“If you like,” Jimin replied. “Have you not spent much time around muggles?”

“Not really,” Jungkook admitted. “I have a few muggleborn friends, but I’m not close enough to spend time with them outside of where we meet, which is always around Quidditch. Does that make me sound snobbish?”

“No,” Jimin shook his head. “Just normal.”

“Normal,” Jungkook mused with a wistful looking smile. “So this is normal for you? Dates in the muggle world?”

Jimin laughed. “Not really,” he admitted. “I don’t date much. My work keeps me very busy.”

“I can understand that,” Jungkook replied ruefully. “Certain times during the year all I have time to do is eat, train, and sleep.”

“Does it ever worry you? Not finding time for yourself or someone else?” Jimin wondered.

The concern had often crossed his mind when a friend or colleague would tell him about their new boyfriend or girlfriend, or all the fun things they did over the weekends, and he was at home curled up with a cup of tea, researching new and old magical remedies, or doing next to nothing because he was so exhausted from a long day of healing.

“Not at all.” Jungkook’s easy answer surprised him. “I’m of the mind that if it matters, you make time. So, I’ll make the time when it matters. Like now.” He grinned, and Jimin blushed, his heart fluttered in his chest.

Their conversation flowed naturally, with barely a pause to breathe they had so much to say. They walked the busy streets of muggle London, and Jimin explained the things that Jungkook was wide-eyed awed and confused about. They watched a street performer, and Jungkook marvelled at how captivating it was, even without the magical effects a wizard could add. At some point, their hands linked, fingers entwined with shy smiles.

Midnight neared, and Jimin felt like no time had passed at all. It was the best date he’d ever been on. They hid behind a cafe to aparate back to Jungkook’s flat. He had to go back to Scotland for morning meetings with Montrose, so Jimin insisted he see him off home as far as he could.

At the front door of his flat, Jimin’s heart felt like it would beat out of his chest when Jungkook stopped and looked at him at the bottom of the stairs.

“I don’t want the night to end,” he told him in a low voice. “Jimin… you’re… this was so amazing.”

His eyes held no lies, they were dark and sincere, intense and shining. Jimin swallowed and licked his lips. His grip on Jungkook’s hand adjusted and tightened. He didn’t want to let go.

“Neither do I,” he whispered. “I - ”

He couldn’t say what he needed to with words. Jimin leaned up on his tiptoes, pulling his hands down a little so Jungkook would understand from the pressure. He kept his eyes open and on Jungkook, reading no sign of discomfort, and then let his hand go to lightly grip Jungkook’s cheeks. Their lips touched in a gentle press of skin to skin, soft and careful, but with meaning.

Jimin’s heels fell back to the ground and he pulled back.

“This was the best date of my life,” he said, a little breathless.

He let out a little shriek when Jungkook suddenly wrapped his arm around his waist and picked him up, kissing him again, spinning him. He recovered quickly and threw his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders, and they both smiled, giggling and kissing.

Jungkook let him down when he stumbled a little, with a small laugh and Jimin couldn’t stop smiling.

“Is this what flying feels like?” He asked, staring at Jungkook, who looked so handsome with his cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Jungkook stared at him for a moment and then he broke out in the widest smile Jimin had seen from him yet.

“Yeah,” he said, just as breathless as Jimin felt. “Yeah. This is exactly what it feels like.”

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

THE DAILY PROPHET

Is love in the air for Britain’s fittest Quidditch star, Jungkook Jeon? Sources confirm: Yes, it is!

For several months now, according to people close to the Quidditch star. Je on, 25, has been secretly dating none other than the gifted Healer who tended to him after the injury he suffered in the Montrose-Chudley match. Jimin Park, 27, has reportedly been a Healer at St. Mungo’s for several years, reputed for his gifted healing skills. He has been seen attending several Montrose matches, with some fans commenting that Jeon has been seen to throw winks or waves in his general direction throughout the matches…

Jimin put the Prophet down on the table with an upset sigh. Jungkook leaned down over the back of his chair and kissed his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish I could’ve stopped it.”

Jimin shook his head. “No, even if you wanted to, they’d have printed something else. Maybe something worse. We should thank Seokjin for warning us ahead of publication. It’s nice to have a journalist friend in these situations.”

Jungkook hummed and kissed his head again. “Well. Seokjin is less a friend and more a sparring partner.”

Jimin giggled and raised his face to Jungkook, who was smiling down at him. He knew Jungkook was only messing about. His relationship with Seokjin was as brothers, developed over years of contact and mutual respect as sportsman and reporter. Jungkook loved and trusted him very much.

He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Jungkook’s lips.

“I just wish the Prophet didn’t splash about our relationship like this.” Jimin pouted when he sat again. “I can’t believe they found that photo of me.” He wrinkled his nose.

Alongside a portrait of Jungkook taken for the Montrose team photos at the beginning of the season, was Jimin’s hospital identification photo. It was a few years old, and a little embarrassing in how awkward he was, smiling and then blinking from the flash like he was surprised by the photo being taken.

“It’s cute,” Jungkook said.

“You think everything I do is cute,” Jimin rolled his eyes. “You’re biased.”

“It’s true, I am.”

Jungkook kissed him, and lingered on his lips. Jimin felt his heart skip as the atmosphere between them changed, and Jungkook drew back ever so slightly to look into his eyes. The amusement had faded from them, and his stare had become dark and intense. Jimin felt his own gaze turn molten. He shifted in his chair to twist to Jungkook and kiss him again, deeper, full of intent.

Jungkook reciprocated, his mouth immediately opening and his tongue slipping between Jimin’s open lips. He sighed into the kiss and stood, his arms looped around Jungkook’s neck.

“I love you, baby,” Jungkook murmured into his mouth. He pulled back a little, holding Jimin in his arms, his hands splayed over his mid-back. Through the haze of clear desire in his eyes, there was also worry. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Jimin gave him a fond smile. His heart squeezed in his chest at his boyfriend's care and concern.

“I can’t promise we’ll always have sunshine together, but I’ll endure anything as long as I can stay beside you,” Jimin told him. “I love you, Jungkookie. So much. So I’m okay. I know that being with you means we’ll have to deal with things like this.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

“You had your neck broken by a bludger, darling. Let’s not repeat that,” Jimin said with a little laugh.

“Let’s not,” Jungkook chuckled and leaned down to capture his lips again.

Jimin loved the way Jungkook kissed him, like he was the only person in the world and nothing else mattered. His hand twisted up into Jungkook’s hairs, and they both inhaled sharply as Jungkook pulled him in closer and closer until Jimin was arching back and Jungkook was over him.

Jungkook’s hands moved down to cup to ass and Jimin moaned into his mouth when he squeezed. He lifted his legs to wrap around Jungkook’s waist when he felt him lift up. Jungkook held him up, his palms cupping his ass, and Jimin hooked his ankles together. Neither one broke their kiss as Jungkook walked them through from the kitchen to the stairs.

Going up to them was an ordeal of kissing and laughing, of Jungkook pausing to regain his strength and refusing to put Jimin down because, “I can do it, Jiminie, I’m sexy as hell,” followed by more laughter, and kisses.

When they finally made it to the bedroom and Jungkook lowered Jimin onto his back on the bed, Jimin flipped them so he straddled Jungkook. Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly as Jimin pressed a finger to his lips when he went to protest.

“You did so good bringing us up the stairs, darling. Let me do the work now.” His voice was low and seductive, the way he knew went straight to Jungkook’s groin, and he leaned down to kiss the sharp angles of his jaw.

“Oh, god, Jimin, you’re going to kill me,” Jungkook groaned.

He shivered at Jungkook’s hands on his waist, slipping under the fabric of his shirt, and focused on the neck he was placing wet, breathy kisses on, and the ear he nibbled on as he lowered his hips to connect with Jungkook. He rolled his hips and felt heat coil at the moan Jungkook gave, and the tightening of his hands around his waist.

Jimin pulled back and sat up, his hands on Jungkook’s chest and stared into his boyfriend’s eyes while he rolled his hips again, pressing down and biting his lip at feeling how hard Jungkook was under him.

“Off,” Jungkook practically panted, eager and needy, pushing his shirt up. “Off, off, off.”

Jimin grinned and lifted his arms to the sky. “Take it off me then.”

Jungkook sat up and kissed him, and Jimin shivered as his hands moved up his body, and a thumb flicked over his nipple. The shirt broke their kiss as Jungkook pulled it over his head and dropped it on the ground. Jimin lowered his hands to the hem of Jungkook’s shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling.”

Jungkook’s body never ceased to amaze Jimin. But it was his heart that was the most beautiful thing about him. So big, so full of love and passion.

He cupped Jungkook’s face and kissed him deeply.

“I love you so much.”

They kissed for a while, with Jungkook holding Jimin with one arm around his waist, and the other holding himself up on the bed behind him. Jimin ground his hips down on Jungkook as they kissed. The friction kept them both hard and wanting, the heat between them growing to an unbearable level until they both scrambled to take off their pants, and Jungkook reached over to the bedside table to take the jar of magical oil that made Jimin so happy he was a wizard.

Jimin stroked both his and Jungkook’s cocks lazily as he sat straddled on Jungkook’s thighs, while Jungkook coated his fingers in the oil. He gave Jimin a salacious smirk.

“Come here, baby,” Jungkook murmured, and Jimin let both their hard-ons go. He moved forward to allow Jungkook to work, and gasped as Jungkook’s fingers entered him. He closed his eyes at the warm tingle that relaxed his hole and readied him to take Jungkook with barely any work but a few slides of Jungkook’s fingers.

“Good?” Jungkook asked him.

Jimin reached between their bodies for Jungkook’s solid, throbbing cock, and lined it up with his hole. He lowered himself down slowly, loving the way Jungkook watched him with dark eyes, and how he felt his cock twitch in his hand until he had to let go.

“So good,” Jimin breathed in pleasure as he bottomed out.

He rode Jungkook slowly, letting him set the pace with his hands moving to roll Jimin’s hips. They looked at each other, eyes locked and heady until the feeling became too much, and Jimin’s head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut and mouth gaping from pleasure.

Jungkook moaned underneath him, and his hands tightened almost bruisingly on his hips but he lost his rhythm. Jimin picked it up easily, feeling how hard and hearing how close Jungkook was getting. He changed his movements from rolls, to figure 8s, to bouncing, loving the feeling of Jungkook sliding in and out, in and out, his balls slapping on Jungkook's pelvis, and the sound of skin smacking lightly.

His thighs grew fatigued, and Jungkook suddenly sat up, holding him tightly against his body, pressing Jimin down, and Jimin moaned aloud at how deep Jungkook was inside of him. They could barely move the way they were, but it didn’t matter, they didn’t need to. They were both so close. The friction of Jimin’s dick between their bodies, and the way Jimin kept moving his hips on Jungkook, and the small thrusts Jungkook managed was enough to have them coming undone together hardly a minute later.

They shuddered and panted through their orgasms, their faces buried in each other's necks, pressing soft kisses against the sweat slick skin.

Jungkook lifted his head, and Jimin was enamoured with his flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He lifted his hand and wiped the hair sticking to his forehead back from his face.

“It’s you and me, baby,” Jungkook said with a smile. “Forever, yeah?”