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#point defiance park

deletingmyself · 9 days

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(by Josh Hild)| Washington, US

#upl0ad5 #landscape #vertical #Josh Hild #Point Defiance Park #Tacoma #Washington #United States #nature #aesthetic

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suzilight · 3 months

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STABBING AT PT DEFIANCE PARK

Please reblog if you are in the Seattle area.

Tacoma Police detectives need your help to identify the suspect responsible for a stabbing.

On Feb. 10, 2024, just before 1:00 p.m., a woman was walking on the Spine Trail (sometimes referred to as the light-blue trail), near Owen Beach in Pt. Defiance Park, when she was attacked by a male suspect. The suspect pinned the victim to the ground and repeatedly stabbed her. Witnesses intervened and the suspect fled on foot. He ran towards the Owen Beach parking lot and witnesses lost sight of him.

The suspect is described as a light-skinned, black male in his 20’s to 30’s, 5'8" to 6'0", and 160 lbs. He had black hair that was approximately 3-6 inches long and in an unkempt afro style with short facial hair. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt, black pants, and black shoes. Source: Crimestoppers

Art can help bring justice.

A man targeted her, attacked and tried to cut her throat as she fought him off and screamed. Another woman with martial arts training kicked him in the head and he ran off.

Link to video of the woman speaking about the attack, injuries and her days after.

KOMO News

#2024 #point defiance park #tacoma wa #seattle #justice #attempted murder #be safe #hiking alone #crime stoppers

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lev1hei1chou · 25 days

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Run Away

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 653 Synopsis: Your daughter wants to run away from home Masterlist

In the Gojo household, chaos was just another member of the family. Amidst the battles and the trials, there was a slice of normalcy: your child.

Little Yuki was the light of your life. She looked like the carbon copy of Gojo, but somehow inherited your calmer personality. Like any child of her age, she had her moments of defiance. And today was one of those days.

"Mommy, Daddy!" Yuki's voice pierced through the silence of the household like a tiny arrow. You and Gojo exchanged a glance, accustomed to such interruptions.

"What's up, kiddo?" Gojo asked, a grin already spreading across his face.

"I want ice cream for dinner!" Yuki declared, crossing her arms over her chest, her pout matching her father's all too well.

You exchanged a look with your husband, silently communicating that it was a battle neither of you were going to win. "Sorry, sweetheart," you began, "but ice cream isn't really a dinner food."

Yuki's face fell, her disappointment evident. But instead of the expected protest, she surprised you both with a declaration. "Well, if I can't have ice cream for dinner, then I'm running away!"

Gojo's laughter echoed through the room, and you couldn't help but chuckle at your daughter's dramatics. "Running away, huh? Where to?" he teased, kneeling down to her eye level.

Yuki's tiny brows furrowed in concentration as she pondered her escape plan. "To the park! I'll live on the swings and under the huge elephant slide!"

You exchanged another glance with Gojo, both of you struggling to contain your laughter. "Well, we'll miss you, little adventurer," you said, trying to keep a straight face. "But don't forget to pack your teddy bear!"

Yuki's resolve wavered for a moment as she considered the logistics of bringing her favorite plush companion on her great journey. "Okay!" she exclaimed, dashing off to her room to fetch her teddy.

As she disappeared down the hallway, Gojo turned to you with a amusement in his eyes. "Should we let her go through with it?"

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "Of course not. But let's play along for a bit. It'll be good for a laugh."

Agreeing to the plan, you and Gojo followed Yuki to her room, where she was diligently stuffing her teddy bear into a tiny backpack. "All packed and ready to go?" Gojo asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Yuki nodded solemnly, her expression a mix of determination and excitement. "Yep! I'm gonna live at the park forever and ever! And I'll have a lot of fun!"

As she made her way towards the front door, backpack bouncing with each step, you exchanged a knowing look with Gojo. This was going to be one for the family scrapbook.

With exaggerated solemnity, you and Gojo followed Yuki out the door, watching as she marched purposefully down the sidewalk, her tiny frame filled with determination.

But as she reached the end of the block, her resolve began to waver. The park seemed much farther away than she had anticipated, and the weight of her decision started to sink in.

You and Gojo watched from a distance, hidden behind a tree, as Yuki paused at the corner, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.

"I don't think I want to run away anymore," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible from your vantage point.

With a silent nod, you and Gojo emerged from your hiding spot, unable to contain your laughter any longer. Yuki's face lit up at the sight of you both, her momentary distress forgotten.

"I'm sorry for trying to run away," she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

Gojo scooped her up into his arms, planting a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart. We know you were just upset. But next time you want something, just ask nicely, okay?"

Yuki nodded, her tears replaced with a wide smile. "Okay, Daddy."

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ddejavvu · 9 months

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u know ur blurb about hotch taking reader home when she faints at work.. i was thinking about a similar scenario where reader might have the flu or something and she keeps insisting that shes fine and the whole team is protesting, and aaron wants up to her and just says 🤨 can you walk? and r is trying to show how "fine" she is so shes immediately like yeah ofc and stands up real fast and hotch just goes, "good. ur gonna walk to the garage where my car is cuz im taking u home" jsjfjnsnfkekskkf

LMFAOO SASSY HOTCH <33

Protesting only makes the dull ache behind your eyes worse, but you insist, "I'm fine!"

"You're dizzy," JJ sees right through you, "You're swaying on your feet, and you're leaning your thigh against the desk for support."

You step away from the desk, all of your energy now focused on standing still, and keeping upright. There's a look of defiance on your face that gets even the unflappable Penelope Garcia upset, and she lets out a huff sounding like a petulant teenager, "Hotch!"

He's usually only summoned when something urgent needs his attention, so you don't have a second to call him off before he's rushing for the door and waiting to be informed with a tight frown and a raised brow.

"She's sick," Prentiss points accusatorily at you, "And she swears she's fine, so she won't go home, but she's gonna pass out. And Reid won't go near her, he's been hiding in the kitchen for forty minutes."

"I'm not sick!" You insist, feeling like siblings quarreling in front of your parents, "I just have a little headache, that's it!"

"Can you walk?" Hotch asks, and you nod vigorously.

"Yes! Yes, I can walk just fine, thank you very much."

"Good. Walk with me to the parking garage," He feels for his keys in his pockets, shutting his office door behind him as he heads down the stairs, "I'm driving you home."

"Wait- what? No!" You stammer, shoulders slumping in defeat, "Hotch, I can do this. I'm okay."

"Ooh, he got you good," Derek jeers, reaching over his desk to grab your phone and bag off of your own, "Here you go, sickie, get some bedrest. Don't come back until Reid'll shake your hand without latex gloves on!"

"Reid doesn't shake hands," You stick your tongue out at Derek, but your childish antics are interrupted by Hotch hooking his arm around your own and tugging you towards the elevator, "This is your funeral, Morgan, bedrest means I'll be bored and bother you all day!"

"Y/L/N, you already bother me all day," He laughs, calling after you and waving smugly as Hotch pulls you through the doors of the elevator, "Now you'll just be doing it in pajamas."

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deliciousangelfestival · 28 days

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Love Me A Little

Character: Secretary!Bucky x Female!Reader

Words: 1,539

Summary: "Love me, even just a little." When she uttered those words, they struck Bucky like a bolt of lightning, leaving him utterly bewildered. After all, he was just a secretary—his world and hers seemed galaxies apart.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

A/N: Check out the male version of this story - Be Mine.

It was already 1:00 a.m., and the streets lay deserted, easing Bucky's drive. The sleek black Bugatti smoothly entered the apartment basement car park. Just one more turn, and he would find his usual parking spot.

"Screech." The sound of tires screeching echoed in the empty basement.

"Huh?" Bucky's foot instinctively hit the brake as he caught sight of the familiar figure standing in front of his car.

"Y/N?"

It's you. The sole daughter of the Rogers family, the heiress to Starlight Enterprises, a conglomerate spanning oil and gas, telecom, retail, and financial services.

You had fled, prompting the company to dispatch security teams in search of you.

And here you were.

Bucky stepped out of the car. "What are you doing? Don't you realize everyone's been searching for you?"

You scoffed, your tone laced with defiance. "So what? At least everyone will learn that I'm serious. I refuse to marry that guy."

Bucky understood the depth of your frustration. Your family was orchestrating an engagement between you and their business partner. But you vehemently opposed it. He comprehended why; the man they wanted you to marry was notorious—a playboy and a drug addict.

Unable to sway your resolve, Bucky carefully chose his words. "You should go home."

He reached out, gently clasping your hand, his touch pleading, wanting to guide you to safety.

But you recoiled, pushing his hand away. "I don't want to."

Bucky's heart sank, his expression pained. "Your family is worried about you."

Your retort was sharp, cutting. "Are they really? Or are they just afraid of losing their golden ticket?"

A tense silence enveloped them as Bucky grappled with the weight of your words. As the secretary to your brother, Steve, the Vice President, he was privy to the inner workings of wealthy families, aware that most marriages were arranged for business purposes.

Like Steve and Peggy, who defied the odds and found happiness together despite the pressures of their world, you refused to succumb to a loveless marriage.

With teary eyes, you gazed at Bucky, desperation etched in every tear. "I'll tell my parents I'll marry you instead."

Bucky sighed, feeling the weight of your request once more. You had asked him this before, seeking refuge from the loveless future awaiting you. Each time, he had declined.

"Not everything will always go your way," he murmured, his words heavy with resignation. "You've been living in a bubble as Princess Rogers." He paused, unable to bring himself to utter the name of your family's empire. "Now you're facing reality."

You fought back the tears, stung by his harshness. It was the first time Bucky had spoken so coldly to you. "Do you think my feelings for you are fake?"

"My whole life has been arranged from A to Z without my opinion," you continued, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"The only thing I have is my dream of us living happily ever after. Can I at least have that?" Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Stop dreaming. Go home," Bucky commanded, his voice firm as he pointed behind you.

'Screech.'

With a screech of tires, a white Mercedes arrived to collect you. It dawned on you that Bucky had already informed the security team of your whereabouts.

As you watched Bucky walk away, a surge of determination washed over you. Clenching your fists, you whispered, "I'll show you."

########

A few days later

The entire Rogers family had gathered for tonight's dinner, including your grandparents, Thomas Rogers, the esteemed founder of the company. Bucky joined the dinner as well, having become one of the company's key figures, seated right beside you.

Despite the gravity of your previous conversation, you seemed to have put it aside, acting as if nothing had happened when you saw Bucky.

The dinner unfolded in its usual extravagant manner, with everyone engaging in polite small talk until dessert was served.

Your grandmother, Anna, broke the silence. "It's wonderful that we could all come together like this. We must discuss our youngest's engagement."

Your mother, Sophia, nodded, her smile gentle. "I met with them four days ago, and we've already ironed out all the details, from the church to the wedding."

Bucky's mind raced. Four days ago? That's precisely when you had gone missing.

Anna's excitement bubbled over. "This wedding will be magnificent. I can hardly contain myself."

But only the two women seemed enthused; your grandfather, Thomas, and your father, Benjamin, remained stoic, while your brother Steve stayed silent.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the air—a sharp "clank" as a fork stabbed into a plate.

All eyes turned to you.

"I don't like it," you stated flatly, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Sophia's hand hesitated mid-air, poised to call the waitress, but froze when she heard her daughter's words.

"I don't like anything," you continued, your voice ringing with defiance. "I don't like that person, the wedding, anything."

"Y/N, stop," Sophia interjected, her tone tinged with frustration. "We've discussed this."

"Discuss?" you retorted bitterly. "Do you mean when you ignore my words?"

Anna's patience wore thin. "Y/N, enough with the tantrum. This concerns the entire family."

You crossed your arms defiantly. "I refuse to marry him."

Anna rose from her seat, ready to reprimand you, but a sharp glance from Thomas halted her in her tracks. Without a word, she sank back down, chastened by her husband silent command.

Thomas fixed you with a steady gaze, the same gaze that had once spoiled you as his beloved granddaughter. "Explain to me the reason why."

"I don't love him," you declared, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love someone else."

A sudden palpitation coursed through Bucky's chest. He sensed the situation spiraling out of control.

"Whose the person you love?" Thomas inquired, his voice firm.

You didn't hesitate. "Bucky."

'Ba-dump'

The room fell into stunned silence, broken only by the rapid thudding of Bucky's heart echoing in his ears, his mind racing as he grappled with the revelation unfolding before him.

Bucky rose hastily, his intention to apologize to the Chairman halted as your hand clasped his, the determination in your eyes stopping him in his tracks. It was the first time he had seen you like this, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

As all eyes turned towards you, you swallowed hard before speaking up. "And I'm pregnant. Bucky is the father."

The room erupted in chaos as Sophia and Anna screamed in unison.

"What?" they exclaimed in disbelief.

"Bucky! How dare you touch my daughter!" Sophia lunged forward, her hand reaching for Bucky's hair, but Benjamin intervened, restraining her.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest and deny the accusation, but the words stuck in his throat. He was taken by surprise, too.

"Silence," Thomas, the Chairman's authoritative voice, cut through the commotion, bringing an abrupt end to the chaos.

He rose from his seat, followed by Benjamin and Steve, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.

Fixing Bucky with a steely gaze, Thomas uttered just two words. "A word."

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he replied, "Yes, Sir," bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation.

########

In Benjamin's office, Bucky stood before the three men, the weight of their scrutiny heavy upon him as they remained silent. Finally, Thomas broke the tension with a direct question. "Is everything true?"

Bucky knelt before his boss and friend, his voice steady but his heart pounding. "No, sir. None of it is true. I've never laid a hand on her."

Thomas's expression softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Good."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, grateful for Thomas's understanding.

But then Benjamin spoke up, his tone contemplative. "Then why don't you like my daughter?"

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted his head to meet Benjamin's gaze.

"She's better off with you than with that spoiled man," Steve interjected, his voice firm.

Benjamin nodded in agreement, his eyes holding a hint of understanding.

Bucky was taken aback. "What?"

Thomas leaned forward, his voice grave. "The wedding arrangement was orchestrated by my wife and Y/N's mother. I'm relieved my granddaughter took a stand today."

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "I nearly lost my cool when she said she was pregnant. I almost punched you. Thank goodness it was a lie."

Bucky struggled to find words, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.

Steve's tone softened. "Stay with her. I won't allow my sister to marry that man."

As the men continued their discussion, Bucky's mind raced, unable to fully comprehend the depth of their support.

Excusing himself, Bucky closed the door behind him, only to find you waiting for him outside.

Your worried expression melted his defenses as you approached him.

"What did they say?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

Bucky hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing."

You breathed a sigh of relief and pulled him into a tight hug, his body stiffening like a log. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, determination flashed in your eyes.

"I'll make you love me," you vowed softly. "Even just a little."

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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xplrnoname · 3 months

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𝑺𝑳𝑬𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲.

#request : fem!reader has an alcoholic/abusive father and finds comfort in colby.

CONTENT WARNING❕implied abuse, mentions of alcoholism.

fluff and angst, with a sprinkle of angry colby if you squint. this is on the longer side, so get comfy.

There was a limit to how much you could take, and god, you were creeping up on it a little too quickly. The yelling, screaming, broken beer bottles and the numerous dents and holes in the drywall, all of it was piling up and you could feel yourself starting to crack.

Losing your job a few months ago forced you to move back home, something you were trying to avoid at all costs. But you had been left with no choice, despite knowing exactly how your father was. Especially when he had a few drinks in his system.

And tonight was especially bad.

Your father wasn’t alone — having invited a few of his work buddies to watch a late night football game. Drinks inevitably in hand. The yelling became louder and louder as it dragged on, his frustrations over his team losing ultimately getting taken out on you.

It got to the point where you were afraid to even set foot out of your bedroom, catching wind of the crude and nasty whispers he’d exchange with his friends when he didn’t think you could hear. Specifically pertaining to you.

You’d finally had it.

You were hungry, tired, and needed to get out of this environment before you lost what was left of your sanity. You slipped into a simple pair of sleep shorts and a worn out, oversized tee before grabbing your phone and car keys.

“Where you think you’re going?” Your father slurred as he noticed you making a beeline down the hallway.

Giving a roll of your eyes, you mumbled, “out.”

Despite being wobbly and uncoordinated on his feet, he still managed to get up and slide right in front of you. Towering over your much smaller frame. Intimidation was his biggest weapon against you.

“I don’t think so.”

You stared up at him, feet planted where they were. You had no intention of moving or backing down, not this time. Your defiance seemed to earn a nasty snarl and curl of his upper lip, scoffing as he glanced over at his friends on the sofa. Both of their mouths twitching up into a smirk that mirrored his.

“I’m going to see a friend. Please move.”

The silence was deafening as he pressed even closer, a silent threat that he could easily lay hands on you if he wanted. And you knew he wanted to. But he didn’t, surprisingly. With a wrinkle of his nose, he pulled back and stumbled into the living room once more.

You took the opportunity to rush right out the front door and down the driveway, sliding into your car as you let out a shaky breath. It was hard to concentrate on driving as you gripped the steering wheel so hard your knuckles were painted white. Ears ringing and heart thumping so hard you thought it might burst right out of your chest.

Not even thinking of where you were going, you weren’t entirelt surprised to find yourself pulling up into Colby’s driveway. Parking and switching the engine off, you marched right up to the front door and knocked rapidly. Hoping to god he’d answer.

And he did.

The door swung open and a confused Colby peered out towards you, eyes blinking as his lips curled into a soft smile.

“Hey! What’re you—” he paused mid sentence once he noticed the look on your face, smile dropping as he opened the door even wider.

Your bottom lip began to quiver and within a split second, you felt your resolve crumbling. The dam splitting open and wave after wave crashing through the narrow channel of your emotional walls. Tears flooded your eyes and already started rolling down your cheeks.

Colby stepped forward and reached out with a gentle hand, placing it at the curve of your jaw.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

His voice was low, but sweet as each word dripped fron the tip of his tongue. You gave a halfhearted shrug of your shoulders as you kept your gaze down at your feet. “My dad.”

Something in him switched and you could feel the tension bubble up, his own jaw clenching tightly. He was incredibly protective of you and always had been, especially when it came to your father.

“Did he hurt you, y/n?” It was less of a question and more of a subtle demand for an answer. Because god only knows if you were to say yes, he’d be gone in a flash. Seething and see nothing put pure, hellish red.

You were quick to shake your head, looking up at him through your teared stained lashes. And before either of you said anything more, he wrapped an arm around the small of your back and ushered you into the house. Closing the door behind him.

He pulled you along with him towards the sofa in the large living room, sitting down beside you as he let out a soft, mournful little sigh. “What happened? Talk to me.”

You leaned back into the cushions, pulling your knees up to your chest as your arms wrapped tightly around them.

“It’s suffocating. I can’t fucking do it anymore. His drinking is getting even worse, and it’s not just him. It’s his friends, too.”

Colby’s eyes were glued to you, bright blue burning holes into your skin.

His hand, fingers decorated with the silver rings he always loved to wear, reached out and gently wiped away the lingering tears that were resting just below your lashes. You instinctively leaned right in to his touch, eyes fluttering closed only for a moment before they peeked back open again.

“Stay for the night. Sam’s already asleep and I’m wide awake, I could use the company.”

It was impossible not to smile at the idea of him wanting your company. And you absolutely loved spending time with him, perhaps a little more than you’d ever openly admit to his face. “Really?”

Colby raised his brows, chuckling softly as he nodded in respond.

“Hell yeah, it’s been a while since we properly hung out anyway,” he mentioned as he pushed up from the sofa, holding out both his hands towards you as he wiggled his fingers expectantly.

With a playful roll of your eyes, your placed your hands within his and let him pull you up. There was a brief moment where you felt uncharacteristically close to him, tip of your nose only centimeters from touching his. You could feel the soft puff of his breath against your mouth, heart skipping a beat as it kicked up a notch in rhythm.

You wondered if he felt it too, if his own heart was pounding like yours was. And that was when you realized he still hadn’t let go of your hands. You gave them a squeeze, to which he eagerly returned. Head suddenly leaned down to ghost his lips across the edge of your jawline.

That was certainly unexpected.

“What do you say….” Colby began with a whisper into your ear, slowly pulling away. “What do you say we get comfortable and pick a movie, hm? There’s leftover pizza in the fridge, too.”

Your head lulled backwards as he started to pull you towards the staircase, still not letting go of your hands even as your arms were stretched out in front of you. Lips forming a wide, ear to ear smile as you finally gave in.

“Okay, okay. Is it pepperoni?”

He bit down on his lower lip, letting go of your hands as he rubbed his own together in a cute display of excitement. “With the stuffed crust, too. I’ll heat up a couple of slices, YOU go get comfortable.”

You watched as he sauntered over towards the kitchen, turning on your heels as you called out softly at the last minute.

“Colby?”

He stopped in his tracks, peeking around the corner of the wall with that innocent sparkle radiating from his bright blue eyes. The one you adored so incredibly much.

Your stomach fluttered with a million tiny butterflies the moment you two made eye contact again, struggling to find the proper words in the haze of your own feelings.

“Thank you for, you know…”

He didn’t say a word, he simply hurried back over towards you and hooked his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up and planting a tender, quick kiss right to the center of your lips. Tongue poking out to trace along his own top one, as if he were savoring the way you tasted once you two broke apart.

“It’s what I’m here for, right?” One last smile and he finally disappeared off into the kitchen.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in, mind reeling as you were left dizzy and infatuated. This was already a much better night than you’d planned it to be.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #sam and colby #colby x reader #xplr #cole robert brock #x reader #fanfic #writing #fluff and angst

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thewulf · 2 months

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Troublemaker || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request -Hiiii! can you do a Dallas Winston x Curtis Sister Reader (maybe sodapop's twin?) who is soooo different than soda. She's a firecracker with a mouth on her that gets her in trouble? Dally finds himself repeatedly rescuing the Curtis sister reader, who always seems to get into trouble with her sharp tongue and rebellious streak... Read Rest Here

A/N: I kinda love this one deeply. Something about a troublemaker loving another one gets writing (alot) hahah hope you guys enjoy! Kinda OOC Dally at some points but idc, I love it!

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader (Curtis Sister)

Word Count: 5.3k +

TW: choice words, fighting, punching, blood, general Outsiders TW

1. Clowns at the Drive-In:

The night was alive with the buzz of excitement at the local drive-in, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and gasoline. The flickering lights of the movie screen cast shadows across the rows of cars parked haphazardly, each filled with eager teenagers seeking a brief escape from the monotony of their everyday lives.

But for you, the Curtis sister, it spelled trouble. Perched on the hood of your twin brother Sodapop's car, you exchanged barbs with a group of Socs who had taken offense to your sharp retorts and fiery demeanor. Sodapop himself was inside the concession stand, chatting with a few friends, while your youngest brother Ponyboy was engrossed in a book, oblivious to the brewing confrontation outside. You’d never catch Darry at one of these movie nights anymore.

"You think you're real funny, huh?" one of the Socs sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he loomed over you, his companions snickering behind him.

You merely smirked, unfazed by the hostility radiating from the group. "Funny enough to make you clowns laugh, that's for sure."

Your words were met with a chorus of jeers and taunts, fueling the fire of your defiance as you squared your shoulders and met their gazes head-on. But just as the tension reached its boiling point, a looming figure emerged from the concession stand, cutting through the crowd with a swagger that commanded attention. For Dally always had his eyes on you. Especially after your parents passed.

Dallas Winston, the epitome of reckless abandon and untamed rebellion, emerged from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey. His presence alone commanded attention, the faint glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he sauntered towards the confrontation with an air of nonchalance.

As he drew closer, his leather jacket seemed to gleam in the dim light of the drive-in, the scent of cigarette smoke trailing behind him like a phantom. His gaze swept over the scene before him, taking in every detail with a predatory intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those unlucky enough to meet his stare. Dallas freaking Winston.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Dally drawled, his voice low and dripping with utter irritation as he finally spoke, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation before him.

The Socs, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, turned their attention to him, their expressions shifting from hostility to uncertainty as they recognized the infamous greaser in their midst. But despite their feigned courage, there was an underlying sense of unease in their demeanor, a silent acknowledgment of the danger that lurked beneath Dally's cool exterior.

"This ain't none of your business, Winston," one of them muttered, his voice tinged with defiance but faltering in the face of Dally's imposing presence.

Dally merely smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stepped between them and you, effectively cutting off any further confrontation with his sheer presence alone. His posture radiated confidence, a silent warning to anyone foolish enough to challenge him.

"I think it is now," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine as you watched from your perch on the hood of the car. “You made it my problem.”

There was a tense silence as the standoff continued, the air heavy with anticipation as both sides weighed their options. But before things could escalate further, Dally's gaze flickered towards the Socs with a silent warning, a promise of consequences should they choose to push their luck any further.

With a final, angry glance in their direction, the Socs begrudgingly backed down, their bravado no match for the steely resolve of the infamous greaser. And as they slunk away into the shadows, defeated but not defeated, you couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude mixed with a sense of awe at the enigmatic figure who had just saved you from a brawl you couldn't have won.

After Dallas stepped between you and the Socs, a cocky grin spread across his lips, revealing that usual glint of mischief in his eyes. "Your welcome, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he turned his attention to you.

You bristled at his audacity, your temper flaring like a matchstick ignited. With a roll of your eyes, you shot back, "Don't flatter yourself, tough guy. I could've handled those idiots just fine on my own."

Dallas chuckled, unfazed by your sharp retort. "Sure, looked like it," he remarked, his grin widening as he leaned against the hood of Sodapop's car, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest defiantly. "You know, not everyone needs a knight in shining armor to come to their rescue."

Dally raised an eyebrow, his expression turning contemplative as he studied you. "Maybe not, but it sure beats getting your pretty face smashed in by a bunch of Soc’s."

Your cheeks flushed with indignation at his comment, but you couldn't deny the underlying truth in his words. With a huff of frustration, you conceded defeat, albeit begrudgingly. "Fine, maybe I owe you one," you muttered under your breath, your pride refusing to let you admit defeat outright.

Dally's grin widened at your admission, a glimmer of triumph shining in his eyes. "You owe me more than just one, sweetheart," he replied, his tone teasing as he pushed himself off the car. and sauntered away, leaving you seething with a mixture of irritation and reluctant admiration.

While you watched him disappear into the darkness, you couldn't help but wonder what it was about Dallas Winston that both infuriated and intrigued you in equal measure. And as the night stretched on, you found yourself unable to shake the feeling that your paths were destined to cross time and time again, whether you liked it or not.

2. A Brush with the Law:

In the midst of your rebellious streak, you found yourself in a predicament that even your usually suave tongue couldn't talk your way out of. It was one of those nights where mischief seemed like the only way to break free from the suffocating grip of the mundane.

The evening began innocently enough, with you and a few friends roaming the streets in search of excitement. The city lights flickered like distant stars, casting shadows that danced along the pavement, teasing you with the promise of adventure. But as the night wore on, the allure of mischief grew stronger, pulling you deeper into its grasp with each passing moment.

It started with harmless pranks and playful banter, the kind of mischief that left a trail of laughter in its wake. But as the hours stretched on and the adrenaline surged through your veins, the line between harmless fun and reckless abandon began to blur. The world became a playground, and you were determined to make the most of it, consequences be damned.

By now, the cops knew you on a first-name basis from all the petty trouble you had caused. They had become all too familiar with your antics, chasing after you like a dog chasing its tail, only to watch helplessly as you slipped through their fingers time and time again. They had warned you countless times, given you more chances than you deserved, but tonight felt different.

Tonight, there was a weariness in their eyes, a sense of resignation that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. They were tired. Tired of dealing with your antics, tired of letting you off with a warning only to see you back at it again the next day. It was as if they had reached the end of their patience, the final straw in a long line of frustrations that stretched back further than you cared to remember.

But even in the face of their stern warnings and thinly veiled threats, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. The thrill of rebellion was a drug, intoxicating and irresistible, and you were hooked. It was a dangerous game you played, dancing on the edge of disaster with reckless abandon, but in that moment, it was the only thing that made you feel truly alive. You needed it.

As they cornered you in the dimly lit alley, their voices stern and faces etched with grim determination, the threat of spending the night in jail loomed over you like a dark cloud. Panic gripped your chest in a vise-like grip, squeezing the air from your lungs as you frantically scanned the surroundings for a way out. But the walls of the alley closed in around you, leaving you feeling trapped and helpless, like a mouse caught in a cat's claws.

Your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences awaiting you if you were to be taken into custody. You couldn't shake the image of your oldest brother Darry's disappointed face, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern as he realized the extent of your latest misadventure. You knew he would be furious, not just at the trouble you had gotten yourself into, but at the worry and stress it would inevitably cause him and your other brothers. The fear of facing Darry's wrath was almost suffocating, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest as you grappled with the realization of just how badly you had messed up. In your reckless pursuit of excitement and rebellion, you had failed to consider the consequences of your actions, the fallout that would inevitably follow in their wake.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a familiar figure emerged from the entrance of the alley, his presence a welcome relief in the darkness. Dallas Winston stepped forward with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his piercing gaze locking with the officers' with an unwavering intensity.

"Easy there, fellas," Dally drawled, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that bordered on insolence. "No need to get your badges in a twist."

His words sliced through the tension in the alleyway like a well-honed blade, disrupting the somber atmosphere with an unexpected twist. The officers, taken aback by Dallas's nonchalant demeanor, exchanged wary glances, unsure of how to respond to his brazen defiance.

But Dally, ever the master of manipulation, wasted no time in seizing the opportunity to sway the officers to your side. With a casual shrug of his shoulders and a smirk dancing at the corners of his lips, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you and the law enforcement with a confidence that bordered on audacity.

"Look, we all know she's a handful," Dally continued, his voice smooth and persuasive, laced with an undertone of genuine concern. "But taking her in ain't gonna solve anything. Trust me, I've tried. You know what they’ve been through."

As he spoke, a flicker of empathy flashed in his eyes, a subtle acknowledgment of the turmoil that had plagued your life since your parents' untimely demise. He knew all too well the pain of loss, the ache of abandonment that lingered long after the funeral flowers had withered away. And though he rarely showed it, there was a part of him that understood the reckless desperation that drove you to seek solace in acts of rebellion.

The officers, their resolve waning in the face of Dallas's persuasive charm, exchanged hesitant glances, silently wrestling with their conscience. They knew the Curtis family's tragic history, knew the burden of responsibility that weighed heavily on your shoulders in the wake of your parents' death. And as they looked into your eyes, they saw not a delinquent, but a lost soul searching for a way to fill the void left behind by loss and grief.

With a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire world, the lead officer relented. His shoulders slumped in defeat; the lines of exhaustion etched deeply into his weary face as he stepped aside to allow you to pass. "Fine," he grumbled, the resignation evident in his voice, "but this is the last time."

His words hung heavy in the air, a somber reminder of the precarious balance between leniency and accountability that governed their duties as law enforcement officers. They had given you more chances than you deserved, turned a blind eye to your transgressions time and time again, but they knew that their patience was wearing thin. There was only so much they could overlook before the hammer of justice came crashing down with unrelenting force.

Dally, ever the opportunist, seized upon the moment of vulnerability with a triumphant smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He nodded in acknowledgment, a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken agreement as he draped an arm around your shoulders with an air of possessiveness. "Appreciate it, fellas," he remarked, his voice oozing with satisfaction as he guided you away from the alley, away from the looming threat of incarceration.

And as you walked side by side into the night, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of gratitude for the tough greaser who had come to your rescue once again. You glanced up at him, the flickering streetlights casting shadows across his features, and offered him a tentative smile of thanks. It was a small gesture, a token of appreciation for his unwavering loyalty and unyielding support in the face of adversity.

As you looked at him, his cocky grin softened by a flicker of genuine concern, you couldn't help but wonder what it was about him that drew you in like a moth to a flame. His eyes, usually sharp and piercing, now held a warmth that caught you off guard, melting away the layers of cockiness to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability beneath.

But before you could dwell on it further, Dally's voice broke through your reverie, his words laced with a hint of amusement that conveyed the seriousness lurking just beneath the surface.

"You're quite the troublemaker, sweetheart," he remarked, his tone playful yet tinged with a note of concern.

You rolled your eyes in response, a smirk of your own tugging at the corners of your lips. "And you're quite the smooth talker, Winston," you replied, unable to hide the admiration in your voice despite your best efforts.

As the words left your lips, Dally's expression shifted, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. There was a weightiness to his gaze, a silent question lingering in the air as he studied you intently, his eyes searching for the truth behind your casual facade.

"Hey, are you actually alright?" he asked, his voice softer now, stripped of its usual playfulness. His concern was palpable, genuine, a stark contrast to the tough exterior he typically presented to the world. "This isn't like you, getting caught by the fuzz like that."

His unexpected tenderness caught you off guard, the sincerity in his question piercing through the layers bullshit you typically wore like armour. You hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the depth of his concern, before offering him a small nod of reassurance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, though the words felt hollow even to your own ears. You forced a casual tone, hoping to brush off the weight of his inquiry, the nagging doubts that gnawed at the edges of your mind. "Just got a little carried away, that's all."

But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn't just a momentary lapse in judgment. There was a restlessness inside you, a longing for something more than the mundane routine of everyday life, that drove you to seek out trouble wherever you could find it. And in that moment, as you stood before Dally with his piercing gaze fixed upon you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you.

Dally continued to study you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and understanding. He didn't press further, sensing that there was more to your story than you were willing to reveal. Instead, he offered you a small, understanding smile, a silent reassurance that he would be there for you whenever you were ready to open up.

"I get it," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

His words caught you off guard, a flicker of warmth spreading through your chest at the sincerity behind them. And as you met his gaze, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the tough greaser who had dared to care when no one else did.

With a subtle squeeze of his arm around your shoulders, Dally offered you a reassuring smile, a silent promise that he would always be there to watch your back, no matter what trouble you managed to find yourself in. And as you walked side by side into the night, the echoes of his words mingling with the sounds of the city, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the tough greaser who had dared to care when no one else did.

3. Escaping a Sticky Situation:

As the Friday night lights illuminated the football field, casting a glow of excitement over the small town, the air crackled with anticipation. It was meant to be a harmless prank, a bit of mischief to inject some excitement into the dull routine of small-town life. But what had started as a simple joke quickly spiraled out of control, and you, the Curtis sister, found yourself in a precarious situation.

The prank had been innocent enough at first—a bit of good-natured rivalry between the Greasers and the Socs. However, things took a dangerous turn when the Soc boys, their egos bruised and their tempers flaring, decided to retaliate with more than just words. They targeted you, singling you out from the crowd, their menacing glares and clenched fists leaving no doubt about their intentions.

Your heart raced with adrenaline, panic clawing at your chest as you frantically searched for a way out of the tightening circle of Soc boys. But as the situation grew more dire, Dallas Winston yet again emerged like a savior in the darkness, his presence a welcome relief amidst the chaos and looming threat of violence. By this point you were convinced it was your brothers who had him watching you for how else could he, quite literally, always be there to say you from these situations?

As the chaos unfolded near the stands, Dallas Winston's arrival seemed almost surreal. At first, his laughter echoed across the small courtyard area, a stark contrast to the tension thickening the air. But as he surveyed the scene, his amusement quickly morphed into a glare of righteous anger.

"Buncha tough guys picking on a little lady, huh?" Dally's voice cut through the chaos like a knife, his tone dripping with disdain as he confronted the Soc boys. His words carried a weight of accusation, a challenge to their masculinity and decency.

As Dally's words hung in the air, the Soc boys hesitated, their usual boastfulness faltering under his scathing gaze. But one of them, bolder—or perhaps more foolish—than the rest, reached out and laid a hand on your arm, his grip tight and menacing.

Instantly, Dally saw red.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, his fists flying in a blur of motion as he unleashed a barrage of punches on the Soc who dared to lay hands on you. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, the sound echoing across the field like a drumbeat of fury.

The other Soc boys, realizing their mistake too late, attempted to intervene, but Dally was a force to be reckoned with. With a ferocity born of righteous anger, he fought like a man possessed, his only thought to protect you from harm.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was likely only seconds, Dally's onslaught came to an end. The Soc who had dared to touch you lay crumpled on the ground, bloodied, and bruised, but alive.

Dally stood over him, his chest heaving with exertion and adrenaline, his eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and triumph. The other Soc's had long since fled, likely for help. But he didn’t give a damn. His attention was now on you. And as he turned to you, his expression softened with a mixture of relief and concern, seeing you standing there relatively unharmed. It was when he saw the tears in your eyes that he knew he had to do something.

Dally's gaze softened further as he approached you with caution, the fire in his eyes dimming to reveal a rare glimpse of vulnerability. He reached out tentatively, his rough hand coming to rest on your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded moments before.

"Hey, it's alright, sweetheart," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm to the turmoil raging inside you. "You're okay. It’ll be alright." He attempted to console you as best as he could, however it wasn’t his strong suit.

But the tears continued to flow unabated, a testament to the fear and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You tried to hold them back, to maintain the facade of strength and resilience that had always been your shield against the world. But in that moment, with Dally standing before you, all of your defenses crumbled.

Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you buried your face in your hands, the weight of the night crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You could feel the tremors wracking your body, the sobs tearing from your throat in ragged gasps.

Dally watched you carefully, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. Without a bit of hesitation, he wrapped you in a warm embrace, pulling you close to his chest as if to shield you from the world's cruelties. His arms felt surprisingly comforting, a safe haven amidst the chaos that had engulfed you.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's okay to let it out," he whispered gently, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of your storm. "You're safe now, darlin'. I've got you."

His words washed over you like a gentle wave, calming the storm of emotions raging inside you. For the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, to find solace in the warmth of his presence. As the tears continued to fall, Dally held you close, his grip firm yet gentle. He didn't try to offer empty reassurances or false promises. Instead, he simply held you, a silent pillar of strength in the darkness.

The Unexpected Thank You:

As the weight of the night's events settled upon your shoulders like a heavy cloak, you couldn't help but feel a wave of vulnerability wash over you. The adrenaline that had fueled you earlier now gave way to a profound sense of exhaustion, both physical and emotional. And in the quiet solitude of the street, with only Dally's presence beside you, you felt the walls you had carefully built around your heart begin to crumble.

"Thank you, Dallas," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a rawness you hadn't expected. "For everything."

Your words hung in the air, vulnerable and exposed, a stark contrast to the tough exterior you usually wore like armor. In that moment, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, as if a weight had been lifted from your chest. For so long, you had been carrying the burden of your troubles alone, too afraid to let anyone else see the cracks in your facade. But with Dally standing beside you, offering a silent anchor in the storm, you found yourself finally able to let go.

When you looked into his eyes, you saw something flicker beneath the tough exterior, something vulnerable and achingly human. It was a mirror of your own inner turmoil, a silent acknowledgment of the pain and loneliness that lurked within you both. And in that shared moment of vulnerability, you realized that perhaps, just perhaps, you were more alike than you had ever dared to imagine.

As Dally enveloped you in his embrace for the second time that night, his arms offering solace and refuge, a tender silence settled between you, broken only by the soft sound of your quiet sobs. In that moment, words seemed inadequate to express the depth of the emotions coursing through you both. But as you held each other close, your hearts spoke volumes, weaving a silent symphony of understanding and compassion.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, you know," Dally murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear. "It's okay to let yourself feel, to let yourself grieve."

His words resonated deep within you, stirring a bittersweet ache in your chest. For so long, you had tried to bury your pain beneath layers of confidence and defiance, afraid to confront the gaping hole that your mother and fathers absence had left behind. But in Dally's embrace, you found the courage to face your demons, to confront the rawness of your grief without fear of judgment or rejection.

With trembling hands, you clung to him, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. And as you spoke of your mother, of the memories that still lingered like ghosts in the corners of your mind, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you, as if by giving voice to your pain, you could finally set yourself free.

"I miss her, Dally. I miss them," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper, choked with emotion. "Every day, it feels like a piece of me is missing. Like I'm lost without her. She was my best friend and now she’s just gone.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the relentless passage of time. And as you gazed into Dally's eyes, you saw your own pain reflected back at you, a shared understanding that transcended words.

"You're not alone, sweetheart," Dally replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I may not have all the answers, but I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

In that moment, you felt a surge of gratitude and affection for the tough greaser who had stood by your side through thick and thin. In his arms, you found a sense of belonging you had never known, a sanctuary from the storm of emotions that raged within you.

In the hushed intimacy of your embrace, the turmoil within you quieted, replaced by a sense of tranquility you had never known. But amidst the stillness, a storm raged within you, a tempest of conflicting emotions that threatened to consume you.

With each steady heartbeat, you felt the tendrils of affection wrapping around your heart, weaving a tapestry of emotions you struggled to comprehend. The way his touch ignited a warmth deep within you, the way his voice soothed the turmoil of your soul — these were sensations you had never experienced before, and yet they felt undeniably right.

As you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you couldn't shake the realization that your feelings for Dally surpassed mere gratitude or admiration. It was something more, something you couldn't quite put into words but felt with every fiber of your being.

In the quiet of the night, you allowed yourself to explore these newfound emotions, to sift through the tangled mess of your thoughts and feelings. And in doing so, you came to a startling revelation — you liked him, more than you had ever dared to admit.

But the thought of confessing your feelings to Dally filled you with a heady mixture of excitement and trepidation. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if your friendship was forever altered by your admission? Yet, as you glanced up at him, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, you saw a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored your own. Perhaps, you thought, he felt the same way — a silent understanding that transcended words.

Summoning your courage, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to do. With a trembling hand, you reached up to cup his cheek, your touch feather-light against his stubbled skin.

"Dally," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I need to tell you."

As your eyes met, you sensed an unspoken understanding passing between you. Without needing further words, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. It was a tender gesture, filled with reassurance and affection, a silent promise of his unwavering support and care.

But before you could utter another word, Dally's hand gently tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours with a intensity that made your heart race.

"I need to tell you something too," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the soft night breeze.

Your breath caught in your throat as you waited, anticipation coursing through every fiber of your being.

"Doll," he continued, his voice husky with emotion, "I've been wanting to say this for a while now, but I ain't never found the right words. I reckon there’s no fancy way to put it, so I'll just say it straight."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before meeting your gaze once more.

"I love you," he confessed, his words hanging in the air like a sacred vow.

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission, emotions swirling within you like a tempest. For so long, you had harbored these feelings, afraid to voice them, afraid of what they might mean for your friendship, for your future. But now, as those three simple words hung in the air between you, you felt as if a weight had been lifted from your chest, replaced by a warmth that radiated from the very core of your being.

You searched his eyes, seeking confirmation of the truth you dared to believe. And there, amidst the depths of his gaze, you found it — sincerity, vulnerability, and a love that mirrored your own. It was a revelation that left you breathless, a realization that this connection you shared transcended the boundaries of friendship, binding you together in a bond that felt unbreakable.

"I love you too, Dally," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, as if afraid that speaking the words aloud would make them disappear into the night.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the world fading into insignificance as you both basked in the sheer weight of those words. They held within them the promise of a future unknown, yet somehow certain in its inevitability. And as he pulled you into a tight embrace, you felt a sense of belonging wash over you, as if you had finally found your place in the world.

With his arms around you, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, no matter what storms threatened to tear you apart, you had each other. Together, you could weather any adversity, conquer any obstacle that stood in your path. For in each other's arms, you found strength, comfort, and a love that knew no bounds.

"Hey," he whispered softly, his breath tickling your ear as he held you close. "You don't have to say anything more. I'm here, and I ain't goin' nowhere."

For the first time in a while you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a profound gratitude for the man who stood by your side through thick and thin. With a heartfelt sigh, you nestled against him, finding solace in his presence as you stood together beneath the starlit sky. In his embrace, you found sanctuary, a refuge from the uncertainties of the world outside. And as you looked up at the twinkling stars above, you knew that your love would light the way through even the darkest of nights, guiding you towards a future filled with endless possibilities.

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haechansdoll · 10 months

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Pls pls Ive been reading your books on loop, please make a shot of JEALOUS JAEHYUN/TAEYONG PLS, IM ON MY KNEES🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ FOR THIS, if possible CAR SEX PLEASEEEEEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

omg, thank you so much for reading my books, didn't know people would love it so much - well - I personally think car sex would be imaginable with Jaehyun, so lets go with him.

Pairing : Jaehyun x f!reader.

Description : Jealous Jaehyun and Bratty reader.

[Your boyfriend is a jealous, hotheaded, angry man...and you wouldn't have him any other way.]

Warnings: Public sex, carsex, fingering, daddy kink.

Your boyfriend was a dick.

That was the only thought in your head as you stomped down a dark side street through the wet grass, heels sinking into the rain-sodden turf with every step wetting the exposed parts of your foot. The dull thud of music died into the night air the further you walked away from the busy street. Goosebumps pricked along your arms and legs as the cool wind slid over your exposed skin. As cold and miserable as you were, that was still better than getting in the sleek black sports car that was slowly driving along beside you.

“Get in the car.”

At the sound of the gruff command, you whipped your head in the opposite direction, pushing your glossed lips out in a deep pout. Were you being a little over-dramatic? Yes. It didn’t mean you weren’t justified. After all, being put out on the sidewalk in front of a large crowd of people because Jaehyun couldn’t keep his temper under control was just as embarrassing as you stomping through people’s yards as their dogs barked and security lights followed your movements.

“No. I’m just fine where I am.”

“Get in the car, y/n,” Jaehyun’s voice came from the dark interior of the vehicle as he leaned over the middle console glaring at you through the passenger window. A stubborn huff was all he received from you, and you felt a small twinge of satisfaction at the growl of frustration that hit your ears. Stopping for a moment to wrench your heel from one particularly muddy patch of grass, you balled your fists up at your side, turning to face the ash blonde.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat, and he just sighed at your attitude, rubbing a hand across his face. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with your brattiness, but that’s too bad because that’s exactly what you were going to make him deal with after the embarrassment he had put you through back at the nightclub you two were supposed to be spending your date night at.

“I’m not gonna ask again. Get in the fucking car before I make you get in,” he said again this time his voice was much firmer, and you stopped. The small bit of relief he felt was quickly dashed away as you stomped your foot on the wet turf under you with a blaze of defiance burning in your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Make me then!” You shouted.

“You asked for this,” Jaehyun sighed, putting the car in park and flinging open his door. You pointed your finger at him, trying to back away, but he ignored your protests, bending down to put his arm around your waist as he hauled you up and over his shoulder.

Kicking your feet was useless, and hitting your hands against the hard muscles of his back did nothing but earn you a hard swat to your bottom, “Jaehyun, put me down! Fucking jerk!”

You heard the car door open before you were unceremoniously dumped into the passenger seat. He took care not to bang your head against the doorframe. Leaning over you, he snatched the seatbelt up, pulling it across your body and clicking it into place. The minute you seemed like you were going to get out again, a hand on your shoulder stopped your movements, Jaehyun looked down at you and said in a stern voice, “You better not move.”

The bright lights of the city flew by your face as you gazed out the window. It doesn’t take you two this long to get home, and it certainly doesn’t take this long to get home when your boyfriend drives like a bat out of hell. It was hard to stay so angry with the silent atmosphere surrounding you; the only noise was the quiet hum of the car traveling over the road. It was enough to lull you into a sense of calm.

“Why are you so fucking irritating.”

Well, you were calm until that. The question just served to throw gasoline on the dying embers of your frustration, and you felt that hot spark ignite in your chest all over again. Sitting up, you fixed your heated gaze on him, and your hands moved animatedly with your words, “I’m irritating?! You punched a guy for no reason!”

Jaehyun’s face darkened as he stared straight ahead. His grip on the wheel shifted as his fingers tightened around it. The hand closest to you twitched against the gear shift, moving it just a little harder than necessary. There was the unmistakable roar of the engine as he sped up, “No, I had a reason. He should’ve kept his fucking hands off you.”

“He was trying to get by!” You shouted, throwing your hands up and falling back against the seat. There were many things that you had come to accept about Jaehyun, but this jealous streak of his was a big one. Especially when he took it out on people around you, any man that so much as breathed on you was in danger of ending up on his bad side.

“He needed to have his hands on your ass to get by?” came the low, harsh whisper.

You didn’t respond, just went back to looking out the window. Buildings flew by, and you narrowed your eyes as the metropolitan scenery thinned out until you were left staring at trees and a darkened highway, “Where are we going?”

“Just sit back and shut up,” Jaehyun commanded, and his hand traveled over to your knee. His warm palm sent a hot streak of desire radiating from the spot it touched. Any other time you would have welcomed his touches but not right now. He grumbled under his breath as you pushed his hand from its spot halfway up your thigh.

“Get your hands off me. I don’t like you right now,” you said in a clipped tone. And you pouted looking out the window, ignoring the feather-light feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re testing my patience. Besides, though you liked it when I got all possessive over my doll” the lecherous purr behind his words sent a shiver up your spine, and you let out a quiet huff trying to move his hand again. So, maybe you did like it. That wasn’t any of his business. It’d only make his ego bigger to know that despite your anger, you were slightly turned on by the situation.

“You don’t get to call me that right now,” you glared, but your words lost some of their bite as his hand squeezed the soft flesh, fingers prodding at your skin.

“Quit being such a fucking brat,” His hand crept higher, fingers pressing into your twitching muscles, adding to the anticipation of their arrival at their final destination.

“S-stop,” you whimpered pathetically as his fingers traced the wet outline of your pussy over your panties. With your dress being so short, it’s not like there was much stopping him. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, and you dug your nails into his arm in a last-ditch effort to warn him away, but that didn’t help your case at all. A quiet gasp left your lips as his fingers slipped beneath the wet silky material massaging at your clit.

“You don’t sound that convincing, princess. Heh, and listen to that, you’re already dripping wet for me.” It was hard to think of a snarky reply as his fingers drew slow circles around your swollen bud. Your body jerked forward, straining against the seatbelt the more he toyed with you.

“I…mmm, I fucking hate you,” you gasped, but your words had long since lost their sharp edge behind your moans of pleasure. You know that you probably looked like a lewd mess. Anybody that drove by the two of you would easily see you clinging to your boyfriend’s arm, with the way your chest rose and fell with each deep breath and your tongue hanging out of your mouth it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together. The thought just made you even more aroused.

“No, you don’t, and your body definitely doesn’t.” He taunted, pulling out of your grip and holding his hand up to your face. You could just make out the unmistakable glisten of your juices stringing across his fingers, and you swallowed dryly.

His hand descended between your legs again, and this time you didn’t stop him. Soft pants left your mouth as you ground your hips into his fingers, willing them to push deeper inside of you. For being so annoying, he knew where all your buttons were and how to press them. It’s something he prides himself on actually.

“That’s it, baby girl. Gonna cum for daddy?” A dark smirk slowly spread across his face contrasting the encouraging tone behind his words. The feeling of your soft walls clenching around his fingers almost made him give in to you. Oh, he loved making you unravel for him. The noises? Knowing you felt like this all because of him? Everything about it was just so divine. But not this time, no this time you needed to learn a lesson.

“Not with all that tough shit you were talking about earlier,” his tone changed so suddenly, and before you got the chance to process those words, his hand pulled away from you completely. You almost cried, staring at him in wide-eyed frustration.

Your thighs rubbed together in an effort to gain back some of the friction, and you were almost tempted to finish yourself off on your own, but that wouldn’t lead to anything good. All Jaehyun did was laugh nonchalantly, sucking your essence from his fingers as you whined. He chuckled as your eyes followed the movement of his hand down to his pants, “You want me to help you out? Fine, earn it. Make up for that smart fucking mouth of yours.”

All the fight leaves your mind at once as you push your armrest up leaning across the center console, careful of any machinery in the way, the last thing you wanted to do was die in a fiery car crash over some dick, even if it was some premium dick.

“I love you, but you make me so goddamn angry sometimes y’know,” Jaehyun doesn’t seem worried about anything. In fact, he wastes no time digging his fingers into your hair and pushing you all the way down.

“God, your mouth feels amazing, princess.” You hummed around his cock in recognition of his praises. His hard length nestled snugly in your warm mouth as your tongue lapped against various veins running along the shaft. Anytime you tried to pull your head up, he pushed you back down again. Not roughly but firmly keeping you in place. The edges of the center console pressing into your chest, the seat belt holster digging into your leg, and the overall danger of it all was giving you a high that was hard to explain.

“You do it on purpose, I bet. You wanted me to take you somewhere and ruin that sexy fucking body, didn’t you?” You were so occupied that you hadn’t realized the car had come to a stop. Somewhere you didn’t recognize out in the literal middle of nowhere. It was quiet with nothing but your own panting and the faint sounds of the radio. It was beautiful and quiet. You could see all the stars in the sky, and the only light illuminating the two of you was the bright full moon. But you two didn’t come out here for peace and quiet.

“Not my fault you can’t control yourself, I’m still mad at you. Ruined my fucking night,” your words probably would have sounded more convincing if you weren’t so lightheaded from having him shoved down your throat.

“Fine, come sit in my lap and let me make it up to you,” he said teasingly, and with a hand on your chin, he swiped away a thin string of saliva clinging to your skin with his thumb. It didn’t take much to have you clamoring out of your seat and into his arms. Crimson eyes darkened in lust took in the way the moonlight fell across your beautiful features. You were all his, nobody was going to take you from him.

“You’re always such a goddamn tease,” Jaehyun growled with his hands on your hips, dragging you back and forth on his lap. The only thing separating your hot flesh from meeting him was your soaked panties, which managed to provide with just the right amount of friction to keep you on edge—one of his hands wrapped around to the nape of your neck pulling your face down to his.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you said, trying to grind down against him harder, you had been throbbing ever since he had left you on edge earlier. Now here you were so close to what you wanted, and he was taking his sweet time to give you what you wanted. Now, who’s being the tease?

“What’d I tell you about that mouth?” your dress having long been pushed up over your hips wasn’t there to absorb the spanking this time. A loud cry left your mouth, and the telltale sound of crackling accompanied the popping sensation you felt against your skin. You didn’t even have time to be angry with him, not wanting to bother with taking your panties off he just pulled the wet material to the side, slipping into you with ease.

“Listen to that lewd voice, you don’t hate me that much, huh teddy bear?” Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his cock. At this point you didn’t care what he was saying, all you were worried about was the way it felt when he rolled his hips up into yours and his teeth on your neck nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“You’re all mine. You belong to me. Fucking say it,” he growled, pulling you in nose to nose with him. Both of you were breathing heavily, clinging to one another. The windows were fogged up, and Jaehyun was probably going to have to replace the shocks on his car with how hard it was rocking, but it was worth it.

“Ahh, I-I…fuck!” Your thighs trembled with each drag of him in and out of your body, and you tried your best to pull together the words he so desperately needed to hear. Buried under a haze of pleasure, your poor brain was working double-time to keep you down on planet earth. Another quirked up spank landed on your ass, and you almost came undone right then.

“Say it, baby! Who do you belong to?” Jaehyun breathed out through clenched teeth. With how tightly your walls were squeezing around him, he knew you weren’t going to last much longer, and neither was he.

“You! I’m all yours, Jaehyun!” your body tenses up as you cum, crying out his y/n over and over. Your arms squeeze your body close to his, and you bury your face in his neck. His fingers are digging into your hips, pushing you down on him, and holding you there as he rides out his own orgasm. You shiver feeling the warm flood of cum paint your insides.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you so fucking much. Don’t look at any other guy. I’m all you need, got it?” he mumbles the last part so quietly you’re almost positive you weren’t supposed to hear it.

With your eyes closed, trying to regain your strength, you sigh from your place against his shoulder, “I don’t look at other guys, dummy.”

“Yeah, but they look at you, and I don’t like it,” he said once again in that quiet voice. You sit up and look at him, and even in the dark, you can see the melancholy look on his face. It wasn’t often that you saw a softer side of Jaehyun; usually, he liked to bravado his way out of talking about his feelings. It was something you were used to; when dating Jaehyun Jaehyun, you learn to pick and choose the battles worth fighting.

“You’re so melodramatic. I don’t notice those guys because I’m too busy looking at your stupid ass.”

“Why you..mmph,” his eyebrows furrowed, and his nose scrunched up, signaling that he was about to say something snippy before you cut him off with a kiss. He grumbled but kissed you back, curling his fingers in the hairs at the nape of your neck.

“Shut up and let me finish,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose.

He liked to pretend that he didn’t like it when you did things like that, but deep down, you know how much he needs this sometimes. Above everything else, Jaehyun is not one of those guys that lies to themselves about their difficulties. He knows he’s a lot to handle. Sometimes he just needs a little reminder that you weren’t tired of dealing with him and his antics, “I really do love you, Jaehyun. You piss me off sometimes, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, my little angry Pomeranian.”

“I’m not a dog, and there’s not a single part of me that’s little,” he said, swatting your hands away when you tried to pinch his cheeks. Thankful for the dark of the night that hid the red blush on his cheeks.

“Sure, latch on to that because that was the important part of what I said,” you let out an exasperated sigh laying your head back against his shoulder and dragging your hand over his chest gently, stopping over his heart humming contently feeling the light beat underneath your fingertips.

“Fine, I heard you, and I love you too,” came his hesitant reply, followed by a kiss being pressed to your shoulder.

“Aww, say it like you mean it, jae,” you whined, sitting up again, and pouting at him.

“I did mean it, and it sounded fine!” He said, rolling his eyes and letting out an annoyed sound when you poked him in his chest.

“Nuh-uh, do it again. It sounded so…blah.”

“No, it didn’t! You’re just being picky.”

“Please?”

“Fine. I..I love you, y/n.”

“I still think you could do it better.”

“Get the fuck off me so we can go home.”

687 notes · View notes

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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yanderes-galore · 22 days

Note

Ooh I'd like to request a pet-like/platonic overprotective Absol from Pokémon, headcanons or a short where darling is trying to reassure them that there isn't going to be a disaster if Absol just *lets darling leave their home* (or somewhere else Absol has brought them to that Absol deems "safe", or maybe Absol makes them move around a lot and darling just wants to go home and live their life? Maybe Absol is like a rescue Pokémon and something happened to its previous trainer, darling adopted them not knowing what they were getting into maybe)? Absol is the disaster watch Pokémon or some such so having one that dedicated to protect darling would make sense imo

Sure! I'll try my hand at a protective Absol short :)

Disaster

Overprotective! Absol Short

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Paranoia, Isolation, Imprisonment (technically), Death, Implied violence, Clingy behavior, Blood, Forced companionship.

You originally met Absol at a Daycare center. According to the woman behind the desk, Absol was a rescue due to an accident happening to their original trainer. Supposedly their original trainer died... leaving the rescued Absol to try and recover in the Daycare.

When you were set to get to know the Absol, they seemed normal at first. It felt like the right thing to give the Absol another life. After all... rescuing a Pokemon can't be too bad.

You're proven wrong within at least a week.

Attachment issues become known in your Absol quickly. Thoughts of losing their previous trainer drives the poor Pokemon into a fit of frenzy. Originally your comforting and training made your Absol calm down.

Although, as the days continue on, your Absol only seems to get worse in their anxiety. Soon you can't quell your beloved Pokemon's worries. Even when by your side, strolling outside in parks, they show hesitance and irritation towards other trainers and Pokemon.

Something is wrong and you're struggling to find a fix.

Before things hit their peak, you come up with ways to ease your rescue. You take them to therapy sessions, you give them lots of treats and affection, you do your best to calm them when others are around. You think there's progress... that you can fix your Pokemon.

Until you tried to leave the house this morning.

Your Absol, white fur frazzled, lets out a cry of defiance as they stand in front of your door. You try to get past them, the Pokemon refusing vehemently. You notice their Pokeball broken on the ground when you wake up, that and a dark substance coating their claws.

Is that really... blood?

What in the name of Arceus happened?

You keep your distance, the Absol's eyes staring you down with disturbing determination. You get on your knees in an attempt to dissuade the Pokemon. They merely sit in front of your door.

"Absol..." You whisper, trying to be comforting despite your fear. "Why are you so upset? There's nothing wrong... nothing will go wrong...! You're not going to lose me."

The Pokemon glares for a moment, grimacing at the thought before turning their head away. They weren't planning on letting you just leave it seems. You sigh, unable to recall the Pokemon.

"Why do your claws have blood on them?" You ask, not really expecting the Pokemon to answer. Your Absol merely stares at you as if they're innocent, tilting their head. You fear the idea of them being hurt... but you dread the idea of someone else being hurt by them more.

"I can't stay in my house forever." You whisper, your Absol looking unamused as they make a small cry again. "Absol, you have to let me out at some point...!"

Your Absol doesn't budge, forcing you to relent as you currently have no control over the Absol.

Picking a rescue really was a mistake.

"Absol, dear..." You whisper towards the Pokemon, pulling a treat from your pocket. Their red eyes widen for a moment before narrowing again. "If I stay in the house today... will you calm down?"

You Absol stares, seeming to consider your decision for a moment. Their nose twitches but they maintain your ground. You begin to worry... but try to sweeten the deal a bit to regain your freedom.

Even if it requires a bit of lying.

"I'll stay home an entire week, okay?" You offer again, your Absol perking up again at your words. "But we need to get you a new Pokeball soon."

Your Absol seems to hesitate for just a moment. Eventually, however, they relent and back you into your bedroom. They don't let you leave behind them as they force you onto your bed. It's then they jump on top of the sheets, laying in your lap as they take the treat from your hand.

You sigh... happy to have disarmed the situation for now.

Although you begin to worry about the wellbeing of not only your Pokemon, but you along with those around you.

Perhaps they were in that Daycare for a good reason after all.

#yandere pokemon #overprotective pokemon #overprotective absol

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lavenderlilacbones · 2 years

Text

He's a Magic Man

Ohhhh, he's got the magic hands

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Description: You and Eddie have been friends for years, neither of you willing to admit you had begun to crush on one another until one night your usual smoke and chill session gets a little steamy

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY, SMUT with an attempt at minor plot, minors DNI, praise kink, slight degradation kink/dirty talk, van sex, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, use of pet names, drug use, f/m!oral receiving, fingering, teasing, choking, unprotected p in v, light anal play, creampie, touch of fluff at the end

A/N: I haven't written anything in a very long time, let alone smut, but like many of us on this hell site, the Eddie Munson brain rot has a very tight grip on me so I decided to give in. After not having a good idea for this for a couple weeks, it all spilled out of me very quickly. There was an attempt at proofreading. If this is well received, maybe I'll make this kind of thing a habit.

Word count: 3924

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a crisp evening, but not so much you couldn’t leave the van doors open as you and Eddie sat opposite each other on the back edge, passing a joint between the two of you. The mixtape you made faintly plays from his stereo, just loud enough to hear but not enough to impede on the atmosphere. You leaned back against the wall of the van after passing the joint back to him, staring up at the stars as you exhaled, smoke gently floating above you.

“Hey,” Eddie’s raspy voice breaks your daydream, bringing your attention back to the joint in his hand. You smiled and took it back from him, delicately placing it between your lips and taking another puff. “Whatcha thinkin about, Princess?” He takes the joint again, cocking his head to the side as he studies you.

“Nothin’ in particular…” you start, returning your gaze to the sky, “I just love when the sky is this clear.” You nod your face upward, driving Eddie to follow your gaze. A sea of stars shine above you, softly glinting against the night sky. Eddie hums in approval as he hits the joint again, chasing it with the final sip of his beer.

This had been a frequent ritual for you two for a while, grabbing a meal and smoking together. Usually it was at his trailer, but it was such a nice night you both decided it would be more fun parking by the lake with a six pack and a pizza. Summer was over and autumn was rolling in so you had to savor the nice weather before it fully gave way to the cold of the oncoming winter. The pizza box was shoved against the driver's seat, its contents long devoured, the six pack now a four pack.

The next track on the mixtape starts and it's Magic Man by Heart. Eddie groans, handing the joint back to you and moving like he's gonna skip it.

You grab the joint and immediately box him in place with your legs. "Don't you dare, Munson. This is a good fucking song and you know it," you snap at him.

"It's pop rock! It's not my style," he retorts, already accepting that he's not gonna escape from where your legs planted him.

"Have you even listened to that guitar solo? You can't tell me that isn't cool as fuck!"

Eddie scoffs, "I guess it's okay." At this point he was just playing with you, he loved when you got riled up over something you were passionate about. The way your body language would become noticeably more animated reminded him of how he'd get the same way with certain subjects.

You catch his smirk and give him a playful shove with your legs before retracting them and crawling next to where he sat in the van, settling next to him as you took another long drag from the quickly dwindling joint. You exhale the smoke at Eddie in an act of defiance as you hand it back to him. "You're so full of shit, Eddie," you chide playfully.

Eddie gives you a sly smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and watching you with those soft brown eyes, slightly hazy from the weed. He takes one last long drag before stuffing the roach in his empty can beside him. Holding in the smoke, he turns to you, letting his confidence lead his next move as he gently slid his finger along your jawline and lifts your chin slightly. He brushes the tip of your nose with his and as if you read his mind, your lips part to let him shotgun the smoke to you, his lips grazing over yours.

He pulls back just enough to take in your face, checking to see if his sudden bravado was misplaced as you exhaled only to be met with a satisfied smile. You touch his face, closing the gap again only this time your lips fully meet with his. Eddie melts into your touch, deepening the kiss as you snake your fingers through his messy curls. He slips his tongue out to trace over your lips and you open them, inviting him into your mouth and clashing your tongue against his, twisting and tasting each other. A mix of weed, PBR, and a lingering hint of pepperoni. After a long moment you both break to catch your breath, foreheads pressed together.

"Eddie Munson, you have no idea how long I've waited for you to do that," you laugh, cradling his face in your hand.

He chuckles back, his hand sliding under your hoodie to caress your side before it comes to rest on your hip, fingers playing at the hem of your shirt. "Glad to know it isn't just me, sweetheart."

His lips meet yours again, both of you allowing the hunger between you to peek out as your mouths smash together. You move to straddle him, sucking on his bottom lip and not breaking the kiss as you settle on his lap. Eddie's hands grasp your hips roughly as you give him a little grind, causing him to moan into your mouth. He slides his hands down to your ass, encouraging you to grind into him again.

You feel his growing erection through his jeans and the friction causes you to break the kiss to release a gasp. Eddie takes the opportunity to bury his face against your neck, biting and sucking on your throat, small dark marks peppering your skin. Both of your arms slide around Eddie's neck, hands tangling in his long hair and holding him against you as his continued assault makes you whine with need for him.

He glides a hand under your shirt and you can feel him grin against your neck when he realizes you didn't wear a bra tonight. "God you're incredible," he mumbles into you as he cups one of your breasts and squeezes, teasing your nipple between his calloused fingers.

You pull back to shrug your hoodie off your shoulders and he responds by shoving off his leather jacket and battle vest, tossing them aside. Grabbing at the hem of your shirt, you lift it over your head, adding to the growing pile of discarded clothing beside you.

Eddie sits back to take in the view, both his hands sliding along your sides before each claiming a tit and kneading the flesh in his hands, eliciting a moan from you. He shoves his face between them; biting, kissing, sucking, feasting on you like a man starved.

Your own hands slip under his shirt in response, feeling the gentle indents of muscle along his abdomen and chest. "Oh god Eddie… I want you so bad," you gasp, still grinding your heat against him.

"Yeah baby?" He huffs against your chest between bites and kisses, "gonna make you feel real good tonight, Princess." Eddie reaches a hand down to fumble at your belt and pants, loosening the button and zipper just enough to give him access. "Jesus Christ, you're already so wet," he moans against you as he slides a finger along your slick slit, overcome by how much of a mess you already are. "This all for me, baby?" He asks as he leans back from you slightly, meeting your eyes.

You bite your bottom lip and nod in response. "Been thinking about fucking you a long time Eds," you grip his shoulders, gently digging your nails into his skin, "thinking about how your fingers would feel…"

Eddie continues to tease your pussy, just sliding his finger along your lips and collecting your arousal, watching you with amusement as you shudder in response. "Thinking about how your mouth would feel," you continue, twisting your fingers in his necklace as you lean forward to nibble at his ear lobe, his thumb finds your clit and rubs soft circles against it, earning another moan from you "Thinking about your cock inside me." You emphasize the last sentence by roughly cupping his straining bulge through his jeans.

Eddie groans, dipping his finger into your heat as you press against him. He worms his fingers into your hair and grasps it tightly, using it to gently tug you upright in his lap again so he can look at your face. "I can't wait to feel this tight little cunt gushing on my cock, baby." He slides a second finger inside you, briefly mimicking your face as your mouth drops into an O shape, his fingers curling inside you, "but first I want to taste you." After a few more pumps of his fingers, he pulls his hand from your pants, the loss making you whine in protest. He brings them to his mouth and sucks your juices off them with a pop, humming contentedly. "Fuck, I bet it's even better straight from the source." He stares at you, licking his lips hungrily.

With his arm around you Eddie lays you down on the pile of blankets he keeps in the van, managing to stay slotted between your legs as he does so. He leans down to kiss you, twisting his tongue around yours as he reaches down to undo his own pants and give his straining erection some breathing room. He straightens up long enough to pull his shirt over his head before falling back over you and begins to trail kisses and bites down your body, pausing to give your breasts some dedicated attention before continuing down your abdomen and leaving a few more marks in his wake.

He slides your jeans and underwear down as he bites along your hips, only stopping to lift your legs over his shoulder so he can fully remove your remaining clothes. He settles himself back between your legs, laying on his stomach as he kisses and nibbles your inner thighs, working his way to your puffy lips. Eddie watches you as he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit and punctuates it by sucking on your clit.

You arch against him, moaning loudly, and you can tell how pleased he already is with himself when he hums against your sensitive nub before pulling away. "Look at this pretty pussy, s’wet and ready for me." He gives another lick, light and teasing this time.

"Mmm Eddie… please," you whine, bucking your hips towards him in a needy gesture as he stills your movement.

Eddie flashes you a devilish smile, "Please what, Princess?" He teases, kissing just out of reach from where you truly want him. "I want to hear you say it."

You bite your lip, feeling your heart pound in anticipation, "Eat my pussy, Eddie, please."

"That's my good girl." Eddie rewards you with a few heavy licks through your folds, gently sucking on them between laps. He begins to alternate between lapping at your arousal and sucking your clit, his large hands gripping your thighs as he settles into a rhythm that has you practically screaming for him.

"Oh my god Eddie!" you gasp as you instinctively roll your hips against his face, one of your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair as the other slides over one of the hands on your thighs, intertwining your fingers with his.

Eddie moans against you, tongue-fucking your hole as your moans continue to build. "You taste so fuckin good, baby." He's already so pussy drunk and you can see it in his eyes when he looks up at you, bringing his mouth back to your clit as he slides two of his fingers into you. "I could eat this pussy all night."

His words make you crumble. "Eddie… fuck! I'm s'close!" you whine. "Please don't stop!" You can feel the cool metal of his rings kiss your entrance with every pump of his fingers. The pornographic sound of your wet squelching mixed with your moans fills the van. Before long your walls are clenching his fingers so hard he can barely move them inside you, still pulling and grasping his hair as you ride out your orgasm on his face. A whining, blubbering mess as you hold onto his head for dear life. It feels like minutes before your body calms down, Eddie not stopping his movements until he's sure your climax has passed.

He kisses your inner thigh and looks up at you, face glistening with your cum and the biggest smile on his face. "That sounded like a good one, Princess," he cooed, admiring your fucked out expression as he gently slides his fingers over your sopping wet lips, making you twitch and whine from the slight overstimulation.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard from being eaten out," you pant, reaching up to push the sweat matted hair from your forehead. Eddie responds with a self satisfied laugh as he plants more kisses on the inside of your thighs. You reach out for him, beckoning him toward you and Eddie obliges, crawling back up your body to lock his swollen pink lips with yours. You can taste yourself on him and it just turns you on more, causing you to squeeze your knees against his hips. "Eddie…" you breathe between kisses, "I need you to fuck me."

Eddie moans into you. You trail a hand down his body, slipping into his boxers and closing it around his hard length, gasping at the feel of his girth. Eddie thrusts into your hand, whining and moaning as you stroke him. He reaches down to shove his pants down, kicking them off his legs once they get far enough and leans back on his knees to push his boxers off, letting his cock spring free. You fully take in his size for the first time, almost overcome with need for him.

"Christ Eddie, you're so big…" you marvel, propping yourself up and leaning forward to take him in your hands again. "Where have you been hiding this fuckin’ thing?" You joke as you stroke his length, not really looking for an answer.

Eddie lets out a hiss as you lick the precum beading on his tip, but before he can think of a response you're taking him in your mouth and causing his brain to short circuit. His hands slide along your shoulders and neck as you move to take a long lick from base to tip, pursing your lips together as you push him back in your mouth. One of his hands settles on the back of your head to guide you as you bob on his cock, taking in as much as you dare. Eddie gives a few gentle thrusts before he has to stop you, pulling his cock out of your mouth with a pop. "I'm not gonna last if I let you keep this up," he leans down to kiss you again before he reaches over to dig in the back pocket on the passenger seat. A look of frustration draws across his face when he doesn't find what he's looking for. "Fuck… I think I'm out of condoms," he groans in annoyance.

You gently shove him back, guiding him to flip positions so you're back on top of him, his frustration giving way to curiosity as you settle in his lap again. "I'm on the pill, Eddie," you whisper as you kiss and suck along his jawline. You drag your wet heat over his length firmly and Eddie grabs your ass, a shuddering moan escapes his lips as his head drops back and he ruts against you. You move to the other side of his face, still planting little love bites to his jawline and neck, "I want to feel you fill me up."

"Jesus H Christ, baby, you're gonna be the death of me saying shit like that," Eddie growls. He lifts your hips slightly before grabbing his cock and lining himself up with your entrance, swirling his tip in your arousal a few times before guiding you back down on his lap. His eyes are fixated on where you two connect as he watches his cock disappear inside you, the sounds of your moans almost drowning out the mixtape still playing in the background.

You take a moment to adjust, feeling that satisfying burn of how well his cock stretches and fills you. Biting your lip and anchoring your hands on his shoulders, you slowly rise and fall on his lap, both of you groaning together at the delicious friction. Eddie's thumb finds your clit again and starts rubbing in those gentle circles, quickening your pace. Your hand slides into his hair, pulling his face into your chest. He kisses your breasts, alternating between them and sucking on your nipples, rolling his tongue against them as he does.

His free hand kneads the flesh of your ass as you bounce on him. He pauses his assault on your chest to look up at you, his previously soft brown eyes now dark and full of lust. "Look at you coming apart for me, baby. Desperate little slut for my cock," he coos against you. The hand on your ass slides a little lower and inward as Eddie teases a finger over the tight hole as if to test your response. The jolt of electricity it sends through you has you grinding harder on his dick, ragged moans escaping your lips. Eddie growls in approval, reaching further to collect the slick from between you two before continuing his probing, adding more pressure as he dips the tip of his middle finger in. "Bet you'd like me to fuck this tight little hole too. Ruin this perfect little ass." The hand that was rubbing your clit slides up the back of your neck, Eddie pulling you in close as he bites and sucks at your jugular.

The sound you make in response is feral, your whole body vibrates against him as the combined stimulation has you riding him hard. "Fuck Eddie! Gonna cum," your grip on his hair tightens and he hisses at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

"Cum for me, baby, wanna feel you soak my cock." His encouragement is all you need, falling over the edge as you clench tightly around him. Eddie groans, struggling to hold back because he's not done with you yet, rolling his hips with yours as you ride out your orgasm. Your moans are deep and loud, feeling your clit press against the tuft of hair above his crotch as he grinds into you. Your spasms soften and before you realize what's happening, Eddie's rolling you on your back, supporting your hips against his to keep himself inside you.

Eddie hitches his arms under your knees and begins to pound into you roughly, another moan escaping your mouth with every snap of his hips into you. "God look at this pretty pussy, taking my cock so well," he groans at the sight of you before him, a fucked out, blubbering mess as he hurtles you towards another orgasm. "Who would have guessed you'd be such a filthy little slut?" He sucks in his bottom lip as he drops one of your legs gently, sliding his hand around your throat and waiting for confirmation before applying pressure. You slide a hand over his, pressing it into your throat as you whine softly and nod, giving him the consent he asked for. As his grip tightens, your hand slides from his to trace along his forearm before falling back above your head as you arch your back, panting desperately from the ecstasy of his touch.

"Fuuuuuck," Eddie groans, mouth hung open as he leans forward, nearly bending you in half after pushing the leg he was still holding up to his shoulder. His thrusts become ruthless, gently gripping your throat as he locks his lips with yours in a passionate, sloppy kiss. "I'm getting close, baby. Gonna fill this pussy up until you're dripping with me." His moans are almost as ragged as yours, his thrusts hard and deep.

You lock your legs around his hips, your hands finding purchase in his curls again and you hold him against you. "God, give it to me, Eddie. Fuck!" You feel your third orgasm edging closer as Eddie releases your throat and brings his hand to your hip, changing the angle just enough that he's consistently ramming at that sweet spot inside you.

Between your moans and the fluttering of your walls around him, Eddie knows how close you are. He keeps up his pace, not willing to let himself cum before you but feeling his control slipping. "Come on, baby, give me one more, wanna feel you cum again." He reaches between you to rub your clit again and before you know it you feel that coil snap, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back. "Thaaaat's a good girl," he praises, still rubbing your sensitive nub. The spasms and tightness of your pussy are all too inviting and Eddie shudders as his own release washes over him, spurts of cum painting your walls as he continues to fuck you through both your orgasms, milking everything he's got into you. Breathing heavily, he collapses on you gently, trying not to crush you under his weight, his cock still buried inside you. He nuzzles into your neck and smiles as you rub his back.

"God, Eddie, that was incredible," you pant, kissing his forehead.

Eddie smiles and kisses your chest, propping himself up on his elbows and planting another kiss on your lips. "I've been wanting to fuck you like that since last year," he says before gently pulling out of you, watching as some of his cum begins to seep out of your cunt. He reaches for his boxers and uses them to clean you both up before tossing them aside again and settling in beside you.

"Should have shotgunned me then you big dork, we could have been fucking like this all year," you playfully nudge him.

"I didn't think you'd be into me! I know we’re friends, but who wants to date the town freak?" Eddie shrugs, his insecurities showing.

You smile warmly at him, sliding your hands over his face and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. “Guess you found the girl that wants to date the freak.”

He wraps his arms around you, feeling you melt into his chest, a face splitting smile stretches across his lips, “Seems like I did, sweetheart.” Eddie pulls back slightly and lifts your chin to look at your face, grinning as he's met with your look of contentment. "My girl," he coos as he bends his head down to kiss you tenderly.

“Yeah?” he responds, feeling you shiver.

"My freak," you respond with another deep, passionate kiss. Both of you laugh as he gives you a playful shove before pulling you back against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

Finally becoming aware of the contrast of the chilly night air against your warm, sweaty bodies, you pull Eddie tighter against you. “Hey Eddie?”

“I think it’s time we head back to your place,” you smirk and wiggle against him, “maybe we’ll find the energy for a second round.”

You feel Eddie’s heart skip a beat in his chest. “Don't have to tell me twice, Princess.” Eddie feels like he’s gonna be wearing that grin all weekend as you both throw your clothes back on for the drive back to the trailer.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #joe quinn

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heartbreakgrill · 8 months

Text

stiles stilinksi: breakable heaven; pt. 4, “you say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times, we’re not trying.”

a/n: thank you for all of the love! this takes place at the beginning of season 3, but there's some weird things i chose to do. they're in lacrosse season and cross country at the same time to stay relevant to both mine and the show's plot. also, the season only takes place over like three months, so it's gonna seem fast, though that's how it canonically goes. much love, friends!

trigger warning: this is the motel California episode, so a brief mention of unaliving.

tagging: @ariianelle (dm me if you’d like to be tagged! i lose a lot of comments in my notifs <3)

“can we please play some real music?”

y/n glanced up from her phone, open on the texts between her and danny, to see megan reaching through the front seats, towards the radio. y/n snickered slightly as the drake song switched to a pop station.

leo huffed from the driver’s seat, “baby, we’ve talked about this! driver picks the music!”

“baby,” megan mocked with a silly expression, “i don’t care. i’m not listening to just drake songs for another 5 hours.”

y/n hummed in agreement, “girls rule, boys drool.”

jack scoffed from the passenger seat, “you’re never gonna win that fight, leo.”

megan looked towards her with proud defiance, and offered up her palm for a high five. y/n gave her one, before looking back down to her phone. danny had sent another message.

danny: idk this lower classman looks like he’s about to get hella sick and stiles keep bugging him

y/n: so do you think the bus is gonna stop??? i have to pee soooo badly

danny: lemme ask coach

danny: oh stiles is already asking coach hang on

danny: coach says no

danny: it’s ok if u guys aren’t directly behind us

y/n: no it’s not just that i just don’t wanna be a bother to anybody by having to stop the car. plus leo’s already gonna be in trouble for missing the bus lol

danny: ugh whatever

danny: o fuck lower class man just fucking project uke vomited

danny: see u in a sec lover 😝❤️

–

the big yellow bus donned with the beacon hills school name across the side of it pulled bumpily into a motel parking lot. the inhabitants cringed from both the poor driving and the lingering smell of puke. unlike the rest of them, stiles sat proudly, with an all-too pleased smile on his expression.

y/n bounced in her seat slightly as leo pulled the car into a parking spot. she peered around in an attempt to find a bathroom area. she would’ve used the bathroom back at the rest stop, but leo thought it would be smart to get ahead of the bus.

now, it looked like they’d all be trapped in some motel that looked straight out of that psycho movie.

megan tapped her shoulder and pointed towards the front office. “let’s go ask the lady in there.”

leo had missed the bus for the cross country meet this morning, and since y/n, jack, and megan were already planning on coming out to support him, they carpooled together. they didn’t always make it out to meets, especially not ones hours from home, but they each had free weekends, and thought it would be fun to tag along.

y/n and megan went off to the bathroom, while leo and jack joined the hoard of students. danny, having just collected the key to his room, spotted two of his friends. they waved him over, and danny happily jogged their way.

stiles glanced over at danny as he went. he recognized jack and leo and peered around for megan, maybe even y/n. she hadnt responded to his text, the one he sent on tuesday, the day after their encounter in the jeep. he apologized for rushing out of there so quickly. but she hadn’t even read it.

scott said something, drawing stiles attention away. they went off to find their room, lydia and allison, isaac and boyd, closely behind them. just as they found the external stairs, y/n and megan came trotting out of the front office.

danny saw his best friend over jack’s shoulder and lit up. “oh, my love!”

y/n grinned and jumped up on the toes of her shoes. “hello, handsome!” she hugged him.

“listen,” leo cut into their moment, pointing over to coach finstock. “i’m gonna go see if coach will get us a room, since i’m supposed to be on that bus anyways.”

megan latched onto his hand, “i’ll come with!”

danny, y/n, and jack waved after them. y/n sighed, and glanced around the crowd of students, who were breaking off into groups. danny followed her gaze and snorted with a smirk.

“what?” she glanced up at him.

“he just went to find his room,” danny pointed towards the stairs behind them. “wanna go say hi?”

y/n waved him off, quickly, antsy on her feet, “no, no. that’s not what we agreed on, remember? i am staying away.”

danny nodded his head, slow, as if he didn’t really believe her. “we’ll see how long that lasts.”

y/n scoffed and punched his shoulder. “i mean it, you ass. mindless sex is the last thing i need right now.”

jack looked up from his phone, “who’s having mindless sex?”

y/n waved him off, “literally nobody.”

“i think you should,” jack shrugged, looking back down at his phone.

she crossed her arms and popped a hip, “excuse me?”

jack glanced back up, “i’m just saying. you spent how long moping over sam. best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else.”

at the mention of sam, y/n usually felt her chest constrict slightly. it happened this time, too, like the trigger of his name blew out all her defenses. but, she recovered quickly.

that had been happening a lot more lately- recovery. he didn’t have as much a hold on her anymore.

danny snickered at jack’s words, “oh, you have no idea-“

y/n shoved danny harshly. “would you two shut the fuck up? my sex life is not public business.”

“of lack, thereof,” jack mumbled to himself.

y/n went to clap back, when megan and leo showed back up with a singular room key. leo held it up between his fingers, and wiggled it, “could only get one, but- room 216.”

“thank god,” jack took the key from leo, “i could use a shower.”

he led the way to the stairs, and megan and leo followed closely behind. y/n started after them, but faltered her steps once she realized. megan would want to sleep with leo, leaving the only other open bed in jack’s name. he’d say it’s not big deal, that they could sleep in the same bed no problem. but, even though they’d been in the same friend group for a few years now, she didn’t trust him all that much.

she turned back to danny, “please, please, please let me stay in your room with you-?”

danny looked down at her, shoulders dropping as he noticed her eyes turn up in a sappy, puppy-dog manner. he rolled his eyes, “of course you can, you don’t have to make that pathetic face. i’m rooming with ethan, but he doesn’t care. let’s go.”

danny called over the new kid and explained the rooming situation to him. he was completely okay with it, and introduced himself to y/n formally. she’d seen him around and heard about him, but this was the first she’d spoken to him. he was friendly enough.

y/n followed danny and ethan up the stairs. they ran into megan, jack, and leo and passed on the rooming news to them. then, just as they began moving along, the door beside them popped open. scott and stiles piled out.

y/n, frivolous and non-confrontational, did a two-step around ethan, slotting herself beside danny and the railing. stiles didn’t pay enough attention to anything, but he smelled her shampoo linger through the air. stiles looked over just quick enough to watch her disappear into the room beside his and scott’s.

this was going to be a long night.

–

luckily, danny had an extra pair of boxers for y/n to wear as makeshift pajama bottoms. the two boys, sweaty and tired from the bus ride in, took turns showering, while y/n scrolled mindlessly through the television. afterwards, ethan and danny made themselves comfy on the other bed. they were in a similar situation as y/n and stiles- sleeping together, with the agreement that feelings wouldn’t get involved. tale as old as time.

“man, i wish we had snacks. i’m starving,” danny pointed out as he pulled the covers over his legs. ethan sat a few feet from his left shoulder, as if they were trying to keep distance between them.

but, y/n wasn’t stupid- she recognized the tension between them. she knew it all too well. she knew danny wanted to hold ethan’s hand, knew ethan’s darting eyes lingered on danny’s lips- more than once. while ethan started their movie, she came up with the idea to give them a few moments alone. she’d read enough romance books to know the trope- one of them would break eventually.

“i saw a vending machine,” y/n recalled, sitting up in the bed, “i’ll go grab some stuff.”

she collected her purse from the floor and the room key from danny’s bedside table, before her friend could protest. she passed danny a knowing look as she slipped out the door. she wriggled her eyebrows in delight. danny rolled his eyes, though he was blushing, and the tiniest smile cracked his lips.

y/n’s tennis shoes creaked against the floor of the balcony. the motel was obviously old, with rusted corners. it had the faint smells of dust bunnies and moth balls whipping through the air. the sun had set since the start of their movie, and it made the already creepy setting a little more chilling. it was comforting that she saw a few of her classmates, moving between rooms, hanging out on the balcony. but, even though there were plenty of people, the motel had a way of making her feel felt deserted, distant from the rest of the world.

she turned the corner and finally saw the vending machine, tucked into the corner with the ice. she spent a few minutes picking out a few different things, and even managed to stretch out the time by popping open a bag of m&m’s. she checked her phone and saw that ten minutes had finally passed. y/n felt she could return now. if they hadn’t confessed their love for each other, hopefully they’d at least kissed or something.

y/n slid the key into the door handle, hitting it loudly against the metal in order to make danny and ethan aware of her return. she slowly, surely, opened the door. much to her surprise- and delight- she was met with the sight of way too much bare ass skin.

y/n slammed the door closed, eyes squeezed shut, a little scarred from whoever’s ass she had just seen. shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, and she assumed danny and ethan were sorting themselves out. but, she felt bad, cockblocking them, so she called out, “hey, don’t even worry about it. i’m gonna go ask lydia if she has makeup wipes. you two…have loads of fun!”

y/n huffed out a breath. her hand fell off the door knob, and she looked around. lydia was just two doors down. she remembered seeing the redhead with allison, when they went inside their room earlier. but, she couldn’t remember if it was the door right next to theirs, or the one after it.

she wasn’t really sure.

all she did know was that stiles and scott were behind one of those two doors. and with her luck…

y/n opted for just sitting on one of the chairs in front of danny’s room. she pulled up a book on her phone. danny would text her, or even come and find her, once he was done doing whatever it is he was doing.

it was taking all her willpower to ignore stiles. the fact that she even missed him as much as she did was a red flag on the entire situation. she tried to convince herself that she didn’t miss him, but his lips, his words, his ability to draw out of her a feeling she’d never really known.

but thinking like that made it worse.

y/n occupied her mind with a few pages in her book. but, as she turned another chapter, she heard a a couple pairs of feet scuttle up the stairs. two voices she recognized were speaking in hushed whispers, anxiety setting their tones. y/n looked up from her phone, flushing a little when she saw stiles’ face in the dim light of the motel balcony. they were coming her way.

she tucked her chin into her chest, eyes glued to her phone, hoping they wouldn’t be paying enough attention to notice her. her chest was tight. she felt tingly.

that luck of hers…

“y/n? hey, hey, what’re you doing here?” stiles pushed past scott, squatting to his knees before her. his hand came to rest on her knee, his touch soft and warm.

y/n didn’t realize how cold she was, in just her tank top that she wore and the boxer’s she borrowed from danny. she shivered, brows drawing together in concern. “what?”

stiles sounded worried, a little scared, like there was something really wrong. his eyes fluttered around her, over his shoulder towards scott. the latter boy’s hair was wet, and y/n glanced out to the parking lot to see if it was raining. the wind whipped towards them, and the smell of gasoline prickled her nose. she looked back at scott, tilting her head. was he covered in gasoline?

stiles squeezed her knee, “what room are you in? you need to get inside, here, cmon.” he grabbed onto her hand, entwined his fingers with hers like it was habitual. pulled her to her feet.

“what’re you talking about?” y/n furrowed her brows, squeezing onto his hand.

scott spoke this time, “it’s, uh- we saw an animal or something weird in the parking lot. like, a mountain lion or-“ he exchanged a confused look with stiles, like neither were sure of his testimony, “or something.”

y/n shivered, again, fear from all of the animal attacks that plagued beacon hills settling on her skin in the form of goosebumps. stiles noticed and he quickly shrugged his coat off. he slid it around her easily, “what room are you in?”

“d-danny’s,” she stepped closer to him, grabbed his hand again. she pointed to the room in front of them. “we need to tell coach. what if it-“

“danny and ethan’s?” stiles clarified as he cut her off. she nodded, words falling from her lips.

scott and stiles shared a look, and the latter boy shook his head. “why don’t you come hang out with us for a bit? we can watch a movie or something?” scott offered.

y/n shrugged, “i guess. i’ll text danny and let him know. hey, we should really-“

“it’s okay,” stiles led her into their room, and scott followed.

she slipped out of her shoes and sat, warily, on the edge of one of their beds. stiles peeked out through the blinds, on guard from whatever was out there. y/n felt there was more to the situation than either of them was going to let on. being in such close corners with scott now- the gasoline was so thick in the air. but, the mountain lion story alone was enough to freak her out.

and, she didn’t know if she needed or even wanted to know anything more. weird things always seemed to happen in this town. she didn’t need a reason to have a panic attack.

scott got a text. he quickly pulled out his phone. the abrupt end of the silence lingering in the room made y/n jump slightly.

stiles reared his head towards his friend, “what? what is it?”

scott’s eyes glanced over to y/n, who was staring blankly at the floor. her knee bounced up and down, and she hugged her arms around herself. “um,” scott was coming up with an excuse, “i’m just gonna go check on allison and lydia.”

he opened the door to leave, and y/n shot up from the bed. “be careful! you really should go tell coach, too.”

scott nodded, “yeah, sure.” he slipped out of the room.

stiles turned to y/n, fidgeting with his hands. he stepped towards her, concern laced in his tired eyes, “hey, you okay?”

y/n always noticed how tired he always was. but, tonight, it seemed he was more so.

she stepped a little closer to him, examining his gaze intently, “i’m fine. just a little- a little freaked out. the animal attacks in this town are no joke.”

“yeah, tell me about it,” stiles mumbled. he was shaken up from the events taking place this evening- his friends possessed by some deadly energy, scott’s near suicide. but, he forced on a strong front. y/n needed his comfort and security, no matter how many texts from him she hadn’t answered.

y/n watched his stare fall to the floor, and he faded out a little. she touched his forearm, grounding him back to earth. he met her eye. she frowned, “are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” he waved her off, “just…tired, ya know. long day.”

“why don’t you lay down?” y/n offered. she tightened her grip on his arm, moving it up to his elbow.

his breath hitched. he missed her touch like water. , now it was flooding him.

he nodded and stepped towards the bed. “will you- lay with me?” he thought over his own words, and quickly tried to make it seem less romantic, “in, like, a not weird way? i don’t know- nevermind.”

“yeah, stiles,” y/n brushed his words off, “i can lay with you. in a not weird way. friends can…friends can cuddle.”

he ignored the way that word stabbed his chest, and led them to the bed. stiles slid off his shoes, pushed back the covers, and fell into the bed. he lay on his back and held open his arm for her. she slotted herself into his side.

it was warm. comfortable.

both of them fell asleep within minutes.

–

a week passed, and neither of them mentioned that night.

they didn’t talk about it when they had sex in the stiles’ jeep, after the meet. they didn’t talk about it the next day at her house, when they had sex, again. or, any of the three other times they had sex.

they didn’t talk about the fact that neither of them had slept that well in months. they didn’t talk about the fact that y/n clutched onto stiles’ like he’d leave with one wrong breath.

and they especially didn’t talk about the fact that stiles kissed y/n’s forehead before he drifted off.

and told her, “thank you.”

–

y/n didn’t want to tell danny. so, she didn’t.

but, he knew her better than anybody, so he caught onto the fact that she had, at the very least, been sleeping with stiles ago.

according to danny, she had a, “glow about her.”

y/n shoved his shoulder, hitting her palm off of his uniform pads. she hissed at the pain and held her wrist limply in her other hand.

“that’s what you get for being a whore,” danny joked, poking her side.

she winced at the touch. “ouch! you’re a dick.”

“you’re gonna turn into one!” danny turned back to his locker, rummaging around for the rest of his gear.

y/n crossed her arms over her chest. she was wearing danny’s jersey again for the game. “and what about it?”

“nothing! there’s literally nothing wrong with it,” danny shrugged. he pulled his glove from the top of his locker and turned around, pointing it at her. “i just know you.”

y/n knew what that meant. she knew why danny was concerned. she knew herself, too. she knew how these things ended.

but she was choosing not to care.

“whatever,” she pushed the glove away from her face, “just- good luck on your game, asshole.”

she gave danny a tight hug before heading towards the exit. there were a few other players still in there, getting dressed, chatting about the plays for the game.

she spotted stiles at his locker. he met her eye and grinned. a blush adorned her cheeks. she waved.

y/n was about to open the door when stiles came bounding up behind her. he held it open for her, leaning over to do so, and his face ended up right beside hers.

“hey,” he sounded breathless.

y/n smiled, “how are you?”

they hadn’t seen each other since wednesday. y/n had a few projects for school, and work, so her schedule was jam packed. stiles missed her like crazy, but of course, he couldn’t really say that.

“good,” he nodded.

they moved out into the hallway as they spoke. the door fell shut behind them.

“listen,” stiles went to say, as y/n said, “sorry.”

“go ahead,” they spoke over each other.

“sorry,” y/n laughed. she brushed hair back from her face.

stiles’ drew his eyes over her skin, which was painted with white and red dots around her eyes. “your makeup looks pretty,” he found himself saying.

y/n touched her cheek, insecurely, “oh, thank you.”

stiles, caught up in the moment, gently pulled her hand from her face. he dropped it to her side and then moved his touch to her chin. he drew her eyes to his, arching her face upwards. y/n’s breath caught in her throat.

“what do i get if i win?” stiles found himself saying, a devilish grin on his face.

y/n was astounded by how good stiles had gotten at all this- the foreplay, the teasing, the things he’d say to her. he was an insecure, neurotic, freak most of the time. but, beneath the sheets, he’d learned control, confidence, power. it inspired security within her, positive self consciousness in her body, her movement.

and, though this made her face beat red, she smiled slightly. y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders, entangling her fingers in his hair, and she pressed her lips into his. stiles nearly melted at her touch, curving his body into hers. y/n felt his dick harden against her thigh. she held back a grin.

and she pulled away.

“you’ve gotta win first,” she shrugged, pretending she was innocent to everything.

she began walking away, proud. stiles groaned in response and watched her hips, intently.

“you are such a tease!” she shrugged again, not even glancing back. not until he called out, “hey!”

she looked back at him, “what?”

“you look cute in that jersey, by the way.”

he winked at her before disappearing inside the locker room.

y/n faltered slightly. the moment sunk into her skin.

oh, no.

#derek x stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x lydia #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader

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warderfromtheborder · 5 months

Text

Destiny: the year of Very Well Structured Things In Sets of 2

Defiance+Wish: The Sovs Mara and Crow, the Eliksni Misraaks and Eramis, and the Regular Ass Humans Devrim and Petra(PV counts as a regular-ass human she isn't a figure of prophecy or royalty in the reef she's a cop who's been promoted too much out of necessity)

Deep+Witch: The Truncated Heros Sloane and Eris, the Osmium OGs Xivu and Savathun, the Concerned Boss-Parents Zavala and Ikora, and the Wriggly Enablers Ahsa and Drifter (okay you got me) I mean the Nonhuman Guides Ahsa and Immaru

Lightfall: Osiris with no Sagira and Nimbus with no Rohan and Caiatl with no Recognizable Dad and the Witness with no Disciples and Chioma with no Maya and the Vex with no Chill the Living People of Neomuna with no Meatspace to live in. (The dreaming city curse will never end and the people on Neptune will never get to leave the matrix Im sorry but that's the way it is)

The story and themes for this year of Destiny are SO GOOD the writers have done SUCH A GOOD JOB. If making a tighter relationship between the expansion narrative and the seasonal narratives was one of the goals this year they fucking knocked it out of the park, I can't put any of these arcs into its own box because they have been knit together so sturdily. It's all one great narrative, one Very Big narrative, they haven't done it like this before!

(And Im so mad people couldnt stop shitting on Lightfall they are stoping themselves from seeing how good the WHOLE NARRATIVE IS they are probably gonna say come march/near TFS launch "uhh yeah the seasons were good i guees but maybe they shoulda worked harder on Lightfall I mean who even likes Nimbus" and for their Ignorance and Haterism I am sentencing them to reading part two of The Two Towers while they get attacked by Paper-Tube Ninjas and a broadcast system shouts at them 'YOU CANNOT HAVE THE VICTORIES IN RETURN OF THE KING IF FRODO AND SAM DIDNT KEEP WALKING ALL THE WAY TO MORDOR' for 100 hundred years.) (The link there is I didn't get the Point of that part of Two Towers when I first read it and assumed the whole would have been better without it. Obviously...I was wrong, and so are these clowns who think Lightfall has a bad story)

The name of the game this year is Resolution, Catharsis, Armistice, Acceptance. The structuring is so simple and so elegant and so well executed, the 2s, the 3s, the mirroring and the inverting and the unfathomable gloriousness of the victories personal and community and galaxy wide. There is no way to overstate the bitterness of Amanda's death, the relief of exhalation when Sloane retreats, the VINDICATION of Eris's vengeance.

You remember when Zavala 'discovered' Crow's former identity? How that was the crowning on-screen narrative jewel in destiny up to that point? What I am saying is EVERY ARC THIS YEAR IS AS GOOD OR BETTER THAN THAT BEAT AND DESERVES AS MUCH RECOGNITION FOR THE ARTISTIC ACHIEVEMENT OF SO MANY COMPLEMENTARY COMBOS PACKED INTO ONE EXPANSION STORY.

If Shadowkeep was the first sign of symptoms, if Beyond Light was trying to irradiate the disease, if Witch Queen was a tug of war with scar tissue, then Lightfall is the world after recovery and making peace with what will Never Be The Same, and the home and family that has been changed forever but is still Your Home and Your Family. We don't stop fighting but we also don't stop loving and growing and caring.

One last thing for my fellow Sjur copium addicts out there: Sloane's retreat was mirrored and inverted by Eris's victory, so for the complementary-ness of the story to continue, Amanda's death and Crow's subsequent emotional anguish over losing the person he fought with but who also saw him for who he really is will need to be mirrored and inverted by SOMEONE who Mara fought with but who also saw her for who she really is and I expect you will agree this is SCIENTIFICALLY ACCURATE reasoning that Sjur's comin back home.

#destiny 2 #season of the wish #obviously yeah Im calling the shot that Wish is gonna be very good narratively but im confidant on that given the track record now #and Im also confidant coupling it to Defiance like this. can't think of a good reason why it shouldn't be like this.#little russian nesting doll of a story about angy traumatized warriors resolutely taking care of each other #sjur's coming back! I wont belive she's not until TFS actually launches and she hasnt shown up yet.#sjur eido

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