#c: team arrow

[withlovemark]

“SORRY, HEART”

pairing: fwb! mark lee x tutor! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 29k+

synopsis -> sex helps him focus. focus he needs for your tutoring sessions. it was a win-win for mark lee when you proposed to add a stress-relief session to the schedule. the favorite fuckboy and the girl who doesn’t believe in love equals the ultimate friends with benefits set-up. it’s the perfect dream team! but uh oh…it seems like mark has been shot by cupid’s arrow. will mark survive all of your attempts at pushing him away?

warnings -> grab the tissues! (can be used for multiple reasons) pet name unlocked: kitten, so much dialogue, they’re both yappers, mentions of: periods, reader has avoidant-attachment issues, a little toxic, a lot broken, mark is so down bad it hurts me, angst, +18, crude language, fuckboys, a party, alcohol, starts off with a lot of smut! edging!!!, mark whines and whimpers and cries, oral (m+f), he loves eating pussy, nipple-play, fingering, blow-job, sex on the desk, rough sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, reader is on the pill, sensory play, overstimulation, a fake orgasm, mentions of: period sex, masturbation (m).

an -> third installment of the loverboy series is yours! i did so much research for this holy shit (shoutout to quizlet, friends with benefits, prom-pact and ariana grandes: eternal sunshine album). i don’t know anything about advanced music theory or history please i got it all off quizlet. if it’s wrong, do not come for me! important things to note -> you do not have to read stupid cupid or flying kiss to understand this story but 1) mark is the favorite fuckboy. he’s very upfront. tells you what he wants from the beginning, never leaving you doubting his actions. 2) jeno and bunny’s story is simultaneously happening 3) jaemin and his gf, angel, are happily together. have fun reading! with love, c.

“i don’t feel it,” your voice bites through the night air, cold and detached.

“i don’t love you.” you add with absolutely no remorse, just the tired truth of someone who stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.

mark can’t help but think back to how exactly he got here — watching you walk away with the heart you shattered into a million pieces, drowning in the silence, wondering how he ever thought he could be the one to change your mind.

ᓚᘏᗢ one month ago. april 2. wednesday.

mark bursts into the study room like he was being chased, slightly out of breath and as usual, thirty minutes late to your tutoring sessions. you didn’t even bother looking up from your notes.

“you’re late. again.” you said flatly, highlighting a passage in the textbook as if his presence didn’t affect your mood at all. it did. the wasted time makes your irritation grow sharper. it was only three days of the week and he still couldn't show up on time.

“sorry, was busy,” he said, running a hand through his mess of dark hair, lipstick stain on his neck, smelling like cheap perfume and sex.

you arched your eyebrow, “that’s the third time, mark.”

he offers an apologetic smile, dropping into the chair across from you, pulling out his notebook, “i know, i know, she just…took longer to finish.”

you slammed your highlighter down, “just because i’m your friend doesn’t mean you can completely act unprofessional,” you roll your eyes, “this is my time you’re wasting too.”

he looked at you, your signature eyeliner and maroon lips making you look sharper, meaner, ready to pounce at any minute.

a mixture of guilt and fear flickers briefly across his features before he sighed and slumped forward, “y/n, i’m sorry. really. it just helps with the stress you know? clears my head so i can focus.”

“mark,” you leaned in “is your sex life really more important than your three failing classes?,” you remind him of the reason why you were here in the first place. he doesn’t respond and the silence was answer enough. you look at him, brain already calculating ways to solve this problem, until you got to one conclusion — it’s a ridiculous idea but it would be the most effective.

“fine,” you said, tapping your pen against the table, “we can have sex,” you propose.

mark whipped his head towards you like you’ve just grown two heads, “what?!”

you shrugged like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, “i can’t have you missing another session, you need to pass these classes,” you reason. “i have a 100% success rate mark, i’m not letting you ruin that because you need to get your dick wet…so show up earlier, we add a stress relief session then start tutoring right away,” you explain like you’ve been thinking about this the whole week.

mark chuckles, an eyebrow raised. sounds like a pretty great plan to him — too great…actually.

“what’s the catch?,” he asks, eyeing you suspiciously, elbow on the table as he leaned towards you.

“no catch, i just have one rule” you smirk, pointing a finger up. he nods, urging you to go on.

“you can’t sleep with anyone else,” you say simply.

this makes him laugh.

“i don’t go exclusive, y/n.”

“please,” you scoff, “i don’t want to date you mark,” you say clearly, “i just don’t want to catch a disease.”

you were very aware of mark’s title — everyone’s favorite fuckboy, leader of the dream fraternity, co-captain of the university’s basketball team and can play guitar. everyone wants a piece of him. and almost everyone has gotten a piece of him.

“i’m clean!,” he argued, looking offended.

“yeah? for how long?,” you shot back, a teasing smirk on your face.

he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair, “fine…then i get to add a rule too.”

“that’s fair, what’s your rule?,” you ask.

“you can’t fall in love with me.” a smirk on his lips.

this makes you laugh.

“well, isn’t your lucky day, mark lee,” you say with a sly smile, “i don’t believe in love.”

he studied you for a moment, confusion flickering behind his eyes, a subtle memory from freshman year playing in his mind until the smile on his face faded into something quieter, “i’m serious, y/n,” he says with conviction.

you raise a brow, “and i’m serious too mark…the day i fall in love is the day money starts raining from the sky.”

he watches you then lets out a short laugh, “okay, just wanted to be clear,” he nods, a grin creeping in, “so…friends with benefits then?”

“exactly,” you hold your hand, “deal?”

mark laughs before accepting it, sealing the deal with a firm handshake, “deal.”

without warning, you yank him towards you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that steals his breath — it’s quick, sharp, deliberate. before he can respond, before he can even think about deepening it, you’ve already pulled away, a smirk on your lips as you start packing your things in your bag.

“this room’s only reserved for an hour and you just wasted it,” you say over your shoulder.

“my apartment. friday. 6PM. if you’re late we’re going straight to studying.” you warn him before leaving him there feeling like he just won the lottery.

it was the perfect situation for him — he’ll pass his classes and get to have sex without having to do all the extra work of chatting up a girl and trying to impress them just to get in their pants. it hasn’t even started yet and he already felt like a winner.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 4. friday.

mark knocks on your door at exactly 6:00 pm on friday evening. his backpack hung on his shoulder.

“huh…so you can arrive on time,” you tease, leaning on your apartment’s door.

“what can i say? i’m stressed and i need to be relieved,” he shrugs, a childish grin on his lips.

“alright, come on,” you grab his arm, dragging him past your living room and straight to your room.

“so…how do we do this?,” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps inside, standing in your room awkwardly, backpack still on his shoulder. he looks around, noticing your bare walls and how everything seemed to be neat and organized.

“what? sex? aren’t you supposed to be the expert?,” you quip, raising an eyebrow in amusement, snapping his attention back to you.

he rolls his eyes, “well usually, i flirt with the girl first before i get in their pants,” he reasons.

“nu-uh, we don’t have time for that,” you cut in, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your red lacy bra and the tiny black pajama shorts that hung low on your waist.

mark’s eyes widen slightly, glint with amusement, unabashedly checking you out, “dang dude, you’re fucking sexy.”

“is that how you talk to every girl you’re about to have sex with?,” you chuckle.

“that’s how i talk to my friends,” he smirks, earning a snort from you.

“are you gonna take off your clothes or are you just gonna keep gawking?,” you tease, lips curled into a smirk. mark rolls his eyes, finally setting his backpack down by the edge of your bed and removing both his t-shirt and sweats with ease, leaving him in his black boxers, still standing across from you — it was your turn to check him out. he’s lean, more toned than you expected, abs on display, the outline of his cock prominent through his boxers.

“nice,” you mutter, making him raise a brow in amusement. in one smooth motion, you slide down your shorts and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side somewhere as you stood proud and tall, in your red matching panties, not shying away from his gaze.

your confidence (tits) draws him in, stepping forward, closing the distance. both his hands come up immediately, cupping your breasts, thumbs grazing smoothly over your nipples with open fascination. you hitch your breath, the sensation of his fingertips making your pussy clench around nothing.

mark almost can’t believe what’s happening right now, “this is silly,” he breathes out, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, his hands still massaging your boobs.

“my boobs?,” you ask flatly, a little offended.

“no, your boobs are great, dude,” he says quickly, “i meant this situation is silly, i’ve never had sex with a friend before,” he says, still rolling your nipples in between his fingertips.

“you can always back out, we can skip this and go straight to tutoring,” you say, giving him a chance to change his mind.

he lets out a dry chuckle, eyes flicking down between you, “y/n, you’re kidding right? my dick is hard as shit and i’m playing with your boobs…we’re not going straight to fucking tutoring.”

you grin, biting back a laugh, “i’m very aware that you’re playing with my boobs and if you don’t plan on fucking the shit out of me in the next minute, i’m putting my clothes back on,” you warn him.

he doesn’t wait for a second warning. his boxers hit the floor and you follow suit, slipping your underwear to the ground. grabbing a condom out of his wallet, he rolls it on smoothly. then, with no hesitation, he makes his way back to you, lifting you off the ground. mark was a lot stronger than you thought he was, picking you up like you were as light as a feather. your back hits your mattress with a bounce as he hovers over you, eyes dark with intent, that devilish, childish grin sitting on his lips.

then his mouth crashes onto yours in an instant, messy and hungry. the kind of kiss that’s all teeth and heat and no hesitation. you tug on his hair, eliciting a groan from him, urging him closer as your tongue meets, battling for dominance. his hands are everywhere, gripping your thighs, hips, waist like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin.

“hurry up mark, you’re on the clock,” you pant, fire curling low in your belly.

“you said fuck the shit out of you right?,” he growls against your throat, voice low, barely restrained.

“if you can,” you tease, challenging him to pick up the pace.

he was tired of the mocking. mark aligns himself against your entrance and with no warning, no gentleness, he slams into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs — the stretch was delicious, filled with pain from the lack of foreplay, groans bouncing off of each other’s mouths, “fuuck y/n, you feel insane” he grunts as he thrusts with a rhythm that makes the bed squeak.

you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him in even deeper, harder, pussy sucking him perfectly as you calculatingly start clenching impossibly tight for him, “h-holy shit,” he groans, sweat dripping from his temple, “-quit doing that,” mark warns but doesn’t relent his unforgiving pace, chasing the edge like he’s starving for it.

all the while, you just wanted him to get there – the faster he finishes, the faster you can start tutoring. your hands wander throughout his body, leaving goosebumps all throughout his skin until they land on his nipples, you rub him until he was whining and groaning against your mouth, “fuck-mm close,” he manages to say in between his heavy pants, “me too,” you lie.

the pleasure in your stomach was building but you weren’t at all close to the finish line.

“yeah?,” he hisses, thrusts getting messier and messier as he fights back the urge to cum, waiting for you. his lips latch on to your neck, licking and kissing.

you decide to end his torment, “i’m cumming,” you announce, exaggeratedly, forcing yourself to clench around him as much as you can, watching him topple over. he grunts beside your ear, his release finally taking over as he spills into the condom.

“oooh, yeahh,” you moan, faking your orgasm as you push him off of you and into the bed beside you.

mark barely has a moment to catch his breath, chest still heaving from his orgasm, when he turns sharply toward you, narrowing his eyes, “wait…did you just fake it?,” he asks, feeling betrayed.

“uhh, no,” you mutter out, focusing on the ceiling, pretending to catch your breath.

mark shuffles beside you, clearly unconvinced, “that’s not how girls cum, y/n”

“that’s how i cum!,” you argue and mark shakes his head. he wasn’t stupid. he’s been with enough ladies to know that that was a fake orgasm.

he shakes his head, frowning, “no way, i feel like i just used you,” he says, the words leave a sour taste in his mouth — mark never leaves a lady unsatisfied, which is the reason why he kept on showing up late to the past three tutoring sessions. it doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’s not leaving the bed until they are done…until you are done. it’s a point of pride. call it ego or decency but either way, he doesn’t half-ass pleasure. how else do you think he got the title of the favorite?

“it’s fine mark, we need to start our session,” you say, sitting up. but before you could get further, mark tugs you back into the pillows.

your eyes widen in slight shock, “what are you doing?”

“pretty sure friends with benefits means were both benefiting,” he smirks, “i’m not moving on until you cum,” eyes glittering with playful determination, earning an eye roll from you.

“we don’t have time for this,” you scoff, trying to push him away. but he was a lot stronger than you, grabbing your hands and pinning you down the mattress.

“give me ten minutes,” he says, voice low. you look at him amused, “you think you can make me cum in ten minutes?,” you mock, an eyebrow going up.

“just shut up and reap the benefit,” he bites back as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, leaving no room for arguments.

“no hickeys, mark,” you warn him. he ignores you but doesn’t leave a mark anyways, lips trailing lower and lower, stopping for a moment to suck on your nipples, your back arching towards him. he takes a mental note of the way your body immediately responds every time he gets near your breasts.

that familiar pleasure starts to pool in your core again, unmistakable and creeping in fast. and when your hands go lax in his grip, he knew he won this time. he looks up at you with an amused glint in his eyes, hands slowly letting go of your wrists as he let them roam all over your body, mouth still worshipping your breasts, watching your every reaction, taking note of your satisfied little hums, the softs gasps and the way your lips part unconsciously.

he travels lower and lower, tongue leaving a warm, wet path behind. then, he pauses “hmm, what’s this?,” his fingers ghost over the tiny artwork placed on the right side of your hip, just above your underwear line.

“a cat.”

“cute,” he says with a grin, kissing over your tattoo, “why a cat?”

“i don’t know, i was drunk,” you were growing impatient, the frustration was getting to you. you’re pretty sure he’s already used up half of his ten minutes. now’s not the time for small talk.

“hurry up, mark,” you say, taking matters into your own hands and pushing his head lower – exactly where you needed him.

mark chuckles, the warmth of his breath making your thighs twitch, “feisty,” he teases, “the cat is fitting.” you’re ready to fire back with a smart remark but the words get caught in your throat when he slowly licks a strip between your folds.

“mmm, you taste so fucking sweet,” he praises, kitten-licking in between your folds before finally dragging his tongue up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud. a moan slips from your lips, all thoughts of tutoring and snarky comebacks dissolve, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue lapping against you.

you haven’t been eaten out in so long, your last and only boyfriend absolutely hated going down on you and the other one night stands you had never seemed like they knew what they were doing – always leaving you to finish what they started.

mark settles comfortably between your thighs, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as he continues sucking, licking, spitting, completely consumed with the kind of hunger that makes it feel like he’s the one being pleasured. your hips instinctively move, grinding against his face as you tried to reach the high that was slowly but surely building inside you, “fuckk mark, f-feels so good,” you whine against his touch.

you feel him smirk against your clit before he slides two fingers in, following the curve of your pussy, learning the way your body molds. his mouth doesn’t stop, still locked onto your sensitive bud, sucking with relentless precision. and as soon as he found that spot, you can't help but shut your eyes in pleasure.

“oh goddd, mark,” you cry out, your body arching off the bed, head flat against your sheets as your fingers made it’s way to his hair, lightly tugging, making sure he stays exactly where he is. he lifts your legs over his shoulders, adjusting his angle, pushing his fingers in deeper as his mouth continues its worship. he eats you out like a man starved, the noises of your juices squelching filling up the room and it felt so, so good.

you can feel the heat rising through your body. mixtures of ragged pants and high-pitched moans tumbling out of your lips helplessly as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside you. then his free hand slides up to your torso, pinching your nipple just enough to tip you over the edge, completely at his mercy, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, im cumming, im cumming,” you gasp, repeating it like a prayer, fingers digging into the sheets until you’re knuckles were white, trying to ground yourself on something. your orgasm completely washes over you, body trembling as you were left gasping for air, jaw slacked, eyes rolled back, toes curled.

mark doesn’t let up, drawing out every aftershock until you’re twitching, overstimulated. you push his head away and only then does he pull back – grinning, breathless, face decorated with your slick.

“now that’s how girl’s cum,” he says proudly, licking his fingers clean, looking smug as hell.

you roll your eyes, trying to snap out of the haze, “you said ten minutes, that was definitely longer.”

“whatever kitten, we still have twenty minutes left of the tutoring session,” he smirks.

“kitten?,” you repeat, confused.

“it’s fitting right?,” he shrugs. you shake your head, reaching for your clothes with a playful scoff, ignoring the way your legs still feel like jelly. twenty minutes was not enough time but you grabbed the flashcards you had meticulously prepared earlier anyway.

“fine…time for music theory,” you say as mark groans dramatically beside you.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 6. sunday.

mark: wyd? come to the dream fraternity party

kitten: can’t. busy.

mark: but i need to relieve stress…

kitten: mark, it’s only been two days.

mark: yeah two days too long 😩

kitten: we’re literally seeing each other tomorrow

mark: why are you blue balling me? 🤕💔

kitten: im not. you can still use your hand! 🤗

mark: it doesn’t feel as good ☹️ not warm enough ☹️

kitten: go heat up a sock and figure it out 🫶

mark: are you sure that rule of yours is final? a really hot girl just walked in and my dick is pointing towards her direction 👀🍆🥵

kitten: go ahead 🙂‍↕️

mark: bro, really???

kitten: yep! but don’t expect to get your dick anywhere near me tomorrow 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark: nvm 😑

kitten: see you tomorrow 😇

mark begrudgingly walks up the stairs, ignoring all the girls who were glancing his way. he can’t risk it, the deal had just started and yesterday was too fun to spoil — settling into his sheets, he pumped himself up and down until he was spilling into his hand.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 7. monday.

when mark walked into your apartment, he was ready to pounce, eyes already scanning you like you were his favorite dessert. but he stopped short, confusion flickering across his face – you were wearing layers upon layers, “uhmm, you do know it’s spring right?,” he says.

“i know,” you say, a playful smile on your lips as you lead him towards your bedroom.

“so what’s with all the extra layers?,” he trails behind you, suspicious.

“we’re gonna play a game,” you say simply.

“noo, y/n, the deal was i get here, we have mind blowing sex, then we study,” he groans.

“yeah, well that didn’t work out last time,” you point out, remembering the fact that it took the two of you almost the entire session just to finish, “so i decided, we’re gonna mix the two together,” you finish, a sly smile on your lips.

“what’s the game?,” he narrows his eyes, though he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in him.

“for every question you get right, i take off a piece of clothing,” you say, explaining the rules, “and for every question you get wrong, you remove one of yours.”

he perks up immediately, spark dancing in his eyes. mark loves a good game. loves it even more when he wins — he sits at the edge of your bed, already looking far too cocky for someone who’s about to get mentally grilled. you sat on your computer chair across from him, flashcards in hand and fully clothed.

“alright, i’ll start off easy,” you begin, flipping through the flashcards you barely used during the last session, “what’s a major key with 6 flats?”

he laughs, “please, a G flat.”

“correct,” you nod, peeling off the scarf around your neck and dropping it to the floor. mark smirks. if all of your questions were this easy, you were going to be naked in no time.

“next, what do you do to write an aeolian scale?.”

“you use the natural minor of the note given,” he says with ease, relaxed and confident.

“lucky guess,” you mutter, slowly removing your cardigan.

“i’m not that clueless,” he explains, finding it all amusing. his eyes dropping to the now visible thin tank top you were sporting.

“then why are you failing three of your classes?,” you shot back.

“because the assignments are dumb and i don’t have time to do them, i already know how to apply them in real life,” he shrugs, “why do i need to know all these terms?”

you study him for a second, “mark, you can’t expect to skip steps and magically pass all of your classes,” you say.

“yeah, i’m learning that the hard way,” he pauses, his shoulders tense, the stress catching up to him once again, “now ask the next one so i can suck on your tits,” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, asking the next question anyway, “in scale degrees, major scales, what are the augmented triads?”

“trick question,” he smirks, “there are none.”

“correct,” you smile at him, removing one sock.

“you’re taking off one sock?? that barely counts!,” he groans like a spoiled child.

you shrug innocently, “still clothing.”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “okay fine, give me the next one.”

you raise your eyebrow, “what’s a hemiola?”

mark frowns, racking his brain for an answer, “uhhh…”

you grin, tapping your foot.

“something about a repeating melodic phrase representing a theme?,” he asks, head turned like a curious puppy.

“wrong. thats a leitmotif,” you correct him, “shirt’s off, mark lee.” he groans but obeys, tugging it over his head. you do your best not to stare too hard at his abs but he catches you.

“define consonance and give an example,” you grin wickedly.

“seriously?” he asks. “this is cruel.”

“take off your pants if you can’t answer,” you tease him. he mutters under his breath about how unfair this was before his pants come sliding off, leaving him in his boxers.

“what is a long note divided into shorter, usually melodic, values?,” you continue, holding up the next card.

“oh! i know that one, it’s a diminution,” he says proudly. you remove your other sock.

he narrows his eyes, “you’re cheating.”

“nope. you’re just losing,” you tease.

you flash the next card, “alright, what is existing or occurring within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?”

“...i hate you,” he mutters as he gives up on pretending to answer, accepting defeat and sliding off his boxers. his semi hard cock on display.

you laugh, fully dressed except for the missing cardigan and socks, “awee, look at you…all naked and we’re barely halfway.”

mark glares, though there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “this is the most academically humiliating foreplay i’ve ever experienced.”

you laugh, “where is the tenor clef sign located?,”you give him an easy one, knowing that he needs to have motivation to keep going.

“one space above the alto clef,” he says. you hum, pleased, stripping off your leggings, showing off the white lacy underwear you wore just for him. his eyes drop instantly to the undeniable wet spot of your arousal and you part your legs slightly, inviting him, teasing.

“you sick little, kitten,” he swallows, “this is actually turning you on?,” he asks, mildly confused and little turned on.

“what can i say? i love humiliating men,” you smirk, earning an eye roll from him, “what’s a cluster?”

“a chord consisting of at least three adjacent notes of a scale,” he answers, voice low, tense. more determined now to get the answers correct.

“good boy” you purr, lifting the tank top over your head, that little praise makes his mind go absolutely crazy, his cock twitching. your sheer white bra does nothing to hide your hardened nipples and mark fights back the urge to pull you into his lap and fuck you senseless, his boner getting harder within each passing second, restraint visibly cracking.

“define neoclassicism,” you ask, voice steady, brows raised.

mark blinks, then answers slowly, “uhh a general revival or interest in classical cultures and usage of themes and styles from ancient greece and rome?”

you look up at him, impressed, “can’t believe all it takes is wanting to see my tits to get you this focused,” you grin, unclasping your bra and tossing it right into his lap. he catches it midair, eyes instantly zeroing in on your now bare-chest. you roll your chair closer to him, spreading your legs and placing them on either side of him, effectively caging him in. mark’s breath hitches – it was getting real hot in here and he was fully naked.

he reaches for your breast but you slap his hand away, “touch me and the session ends. we’re done.” you warn — having control turns you on more than you care to admit. the way his eyes darken but obeys anyway. the tension practically pulsing between your bodies. he looked so small in between your legs and it makes you want to break him even more.

“hurry up and give me the next one,” he mutters, jaw tight, trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. it was torture. having a sexy half-naked girl right in front of him and not being able to do anything about it. your breasts were on full display, sitting prettily on your chest, your panties were practically dripping and he wanted nothing more but to taste you. wanted nothing more than to hear you moaning under him once again — you were a cruel vision of pleasure he’s not allowed to touch.

“a phrygian is which degree for the key?”

“uhh fifth?,” he guesses.

“wrong,” you say, lips curling in amusement. he groans, cock twitching.

“a mixolydian is which degree for the key?”

“third!,” he tries this time.

“wrong again,” you say, nearly laughing now. his patience was starting to blur. he’s one wrong answer away from losing his mind and you’re relishing every second of it – enjoying every grunt that passes his lips. his cock twitching so close to your core, making you clench.

“you got them mixed up,” you correct him before asking the next question, “a lydian is which degree for the key?”

he groans. he was barely holding on. he shuts his eyes, pausing, taking a minute to think about it, “...fourth?”

you lean in, voice silk and smoke, “are you asking me or are you telling me, mark lee?”

“i-i’m telling you,” he says, voice shaking with the amount of restraint he was trying to hold on to. you were so close now, heat practically radiating off of you. you smirk up at him, tossing the flashcards to the side and smashing your lips on his. he responds immediately. lips chasing yours, urgently and needy.

“correct,” you whisper in between the kiss. his hands immediately latch under your thighs as he pulls you into his lap. you feel the hot, hard press of his cock against your soaked underwear.

“take these damn panties off,” you murmur against his ear. he grunts as his fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling down the last barrier between you.

“fuuckk, you’re dripping for me,” he praises, dragging his fingers through your slick, rubbing up and down your folds before sliding two deep inside of you, making you moan against his lips. this time, his fingers immediately find that spot that makes your toes curl.

“r-right there, mark…d-don’t stop,” you whine, the tension between you rising as your hips start riding his digits, matching the rhythm of his fingers curling inside you. each thrust sends sparks through your belly, pressure building fast. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast but precise circles that have your head falling back, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you continue to bounce on his fingers. his lips close around your nipples, tongue flicking, sucking furiously, drawing out the high you can’t hold back — your orgasm came crashing down embarrasingly fast, leaving you breathless.

“can’t believe humiliating me got you this fucking soaked,” he smirks, breath hot against your skin, “you’re such a dirty girl, kitten,” he teases, licking his fingers clean. before you can recover, he flips you over with practiced ease, ass up and back arched just the way he likes it. you hear the familiar crinkle of foil as he tears open the condom wrapper, then feel the thick heat of him pressing against your entrance before he slides in, deep, the stretch making your teeth clench — the wait was worth it. you were so wet for him…so warm he almost busted as soon as he entered.

“you’re cumming on my cock this time,” he growls, determined, as he adjusts his member, searching for the angle that makes you scream. as soon as he found it, his fingers dig into your hips, thrusting into you from behind, sharp and relentless, your face pressing down on the sheets as the slap of skin echoes throughout the room.

this new angle hits you perfectly, “f-feels so good,” you manage to gasp, voice shaking with every snap of his hips as your hands continue to grip the sheets for stability, moans growing louder with each movement.

he growls in response as he leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, “this what you wanted, kitten?, to tease me until i snapped?” you can barely form words, nodding helplessly, body jolting forward with the force of each thrust. his hand snakes around to press against your lower belly, holding you still as he drives deeper, harder, making sure that you can’t fake anything this time.

“cum,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he starts sucking on your shoulder, “cum all over my cock.”

“fuck mark–i’m so close!,” you cry out, voice cracking under the pleasure, building fast and unforgiving. your knees feel weak beneath you but his grip keeps you grounded, keeps you exactly where he wants you. sweat sticks to both of your bodies now, the heat almost unbearable. then, without warning, he pulls you up, your spine arching as he pressed you against his chest. one arm wraps around you tightly, holding you in place while the other dips between your thighs, fingers finding your swollen clit, circling in perfect sync with the relentless thrust of his hips.

“c’mon, kitten” he breathes against your neck, voice low and rough, “give me another one,” he grunts. you cry out, whimpering, overwhelmed — your release finally taking over as breathless whines of his name slip from your lips.

you came all over his cock, body jerking in his arms, head falling back against his shoulder. mark holds you through it, grinding deep inside, chasing his own release with a sharp muffled groan against your skin. for a moment the room is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the faint creak of the mattress, savoring your shared orgasms until he finally pulls out, flopping backwards onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, arm draped over his eyes. you let yourself melt into the pillows, limbs heavy and boneless, chest still rising and falling in the aftermath. he lies beside you, chest glistening with sweat, rising with each breath.

“well,” mark pants, breaking the silence, “if we keep studying like this, i’m definitely passing all of my classes with an A+”

you laugh breathlessly, turning your head to the sound of his voice, “A+ huh? that’s bold of you.”

“please,” he says, cracking one eye open to look at you, “you saw me, I was focused, determined…inspirational,” he exaggerates, a playful smile on his lips.

“you got half of the questions wrong,” you point out, “we’re far away from an A+,” you tease.

he smirks, “fine by me, that just means more tutoring sessions,” he throws you a wink and you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

you kick him out of your apartment as soon you both calm down, mark leaving completely satisfied. this is, by far, the greatest deal he has ever had to make.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 9. wednesday.

you sat cross-legged on the bed, flashcards in hand, watching mark settle into your desk chair with boyish excitement written all over his face. he leaned back, arms draped lazily over the armrests. you weren’t wearing a ridiculous amount of layers today, which meant he was going to be able to fuck you faster than last time.

“so,” you begin, flipping through the stack, “today’s game is a little different.”

his brows lift in curiosity, an eager smile playing at his lips. of course it was. he should’ve known you always came with surprises. always keeping him on his toes.

“for every question you get right,” you say, pausing just for dramatic effect, “i suck your dick.”

mark’s eyes widen a little too fast, the thought of your mouth around his cock so appealing. this was going to be too easy, “you’re joking?,” he breaks into a smug grin.

“i’m not,” you smirk, making your way over to him and sinking to your knees in front of him. you look up, expression all wide eyes and faux innocence. he knows better by now. “but don’t get cocky,” you warn, smirking as you settle between his legs, “i’m not moving if the answer is wrong.”

that wipes the grin off his face, just a little, “i’m not getting any of them wrong.” he came prepared this time, actually paying attention in class and reviewing his notes in order to be able to be rewarded by you.

you chuckle as you tug his sweats down, revealing his already semi hard cock, “no underwear?,” you asked, an amused smile on your face.

“why bother?,” he shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips. with no warning, your fingers wrap around his member, stroking slowly, giving him a preview of what’s to come — mark immediately groans at your touch, head tipping back slightly at the sensation of your warm hands, cock already twitching in your hand. you looked so tiny around him and he’s already struggling to keep his composure. then your tongue glides along the side of his shaft, slow and deliberate, before swirling around the tip, collecting his leaking precum. the taste lingers on your tongue as you look up at him through your eyelashes. he was too relaxed, too comfortable, eyes focused on you with a smug on his lips. without breaking eye contact, you take the tip of his now fully hard cock into your mouth, sucking gently. it earns a low grunt from deep in his chest, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, but just when he leans into the sensation, you pull away completely, lips slipping off him with a soft pop.

frustration flashes across his face as you casually reach over and grab the stack of flashcards beside you and he’s reminded that this was the game. perhaps, this is not as easy as he thought it was going to be. he sighs in defeat and all you do is wave the flashcard lazily in your hand, eyes glinting with mischief. mark sits up straighter, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing in front of you, twitching with every passing second.

“alright,” you begin, voice sweet, innocent and absolutely lethal, “what is existing within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?,” you repeat the question he got wrong last time.

mark squints, trying to focus, despite the way your fingers are slowly tracing circles on his inner thigh, not quite touching him. “diegetic or source music,” he answers. you raise an eyebrow, impressed, a hum of approval slipping past your lips.

“correct.” before he can smirk, you lean forward again, lips wrapping around him once more, this time a little deeper. his head falls back instantly, a low grown escaping. you suck him in slow and warm, letting the reward sink in and just as he starts to melt, you pull away again with a soft gasp of air, reaching for the next card like nothing happened.

he looks down at you, flustered, chest rising faster, “kitten, you’re insane.”

you flash him a dangerous smile, “define mickey-mousing.”

he doesn’t answer right away, jaw tight, trying to stay focused while his cock stands there, glistening and so so hard. “a film technique that syncs the accompanying music with the actions on screen,” he says, breathing hard.

“look at you, actually paying attention,” you tease before leaning in again, placing a kiss to his tip, taking him once again, just a little deeper, a little wetter. his whole body shudders and he mutters something that sounds like a prayer. you were only three flashcards in. he doesn’t know how much of this edging he could take. he hopes, god, he hopes he knew all the answers. when you let go again, you smile sweetly, tapping the next card against his thigh, making him clench slightly.

“what are the notes of a D major triad?” — “D, F, A,” he manages to say.

“hmm, wrong, those are the notes of D minor triad,” you correct him, leaving his cock neglected as you sit back on your heels, folding your hands in your lap. “no mouth for wrong answers,” you tease as he groans, head falling back dramatically.

“you’re actually evil, kitten.”

you only smile, reaching for another card. he glares at you like a man on the verge of a breakdown, “hurry up, i'm going to die.”

you ignore him, “list all major intervals,” you ask, resting your elbow on his knee like this is the most casual game of flashcards in the world. like his dick wasn’t right in front of your tits — the image has his cock twitching extra hard. he had to get this one correct. he racks his brain for the answers, recalling what he learned in class.

“it’s major second, major third, major sixth and major seventh,” he answers shakily.

your hand curls around the base of his cock again, making him suck in a sharp breath “correct,” you take him in all over again. he exhales hard, threading his fingers into your hair, grounding himself. you’re slower this time, deliberate and precise, letting the praise build in your mouth just like the tension between you. he did give you four correct answers. when his hand tighten a little too hard, you pull off again.

“fucckk, i hate this,” he whines shakily.

“scale the degrees in order,” you smirk.

“tonic, supertonic, mediant, subdominant, dominant, submediant, leading tone,” he answers quickly, determined, voice breathless with need.

“wow…all correct,” you say, a light shock in your tone and a proud smile tugging at your lips. he doesn’t even get a second to bask in it before your mouth is on him again, wet, warm, perfect. he moans, hips twitching up slightly and you let him, just for a second. the reward is intoxicating. and you have half the mind to continue sucking him until he was writhing under your touch. but you pull away once more, wiping your lips with a devilish smile.

“alright, next one,” you say cheerily, like this is all just a friendly trivia night.

mark looks like he might cry.

“why are you doing this to me?,” he gasps.

“don’t act like you don’t like it,” you say, “besides it’s working, you’ve only missed one question so far,” you say proudly.

“yeah, because i’ll literally die if i miss another,” he whines — this went on for a good thirty minutes more. mark only getting a couple wrong, until you were down to your last flashcards and he was teetering at the edge. ready to bust every single time you put your mouth on him but not quite getting there.

his cock is so red, throbbing, leaking to the point it hurts. a couple drops messily on his thigh, a couple on his stomach but never enough to reach his full release. there were tears streaking down his cheeks, his lips quivering. he was absolutely gutted. absolutely vulnerable.

“what’s the natural minor scale pattern?” — “minor diminished major minor minor major major,” he answers, getting the words out as quickly as possible.

this time, instead of wrapping your mouth around him, you reached for the condom you had ready, sitting pretty on your desk, anticipating this moment. his breath hitches as you tear the wrapper open with your teeth, wrapping it on his hard cock, mark practically growling under your touch. you smile sweetly, removing your shorts and crawling into his lap, knees pressing into either side of his hips. the heat of your soaked underwear brushing against his cock makes him hiss through his teeth.

he can’t take it anymore.

“what are the chromatic intervals?” — “minor, diminished and augmented intervals,” he whispers, barely hanging on.

“good boy,” you praise him as he breathes heavily under you. pushing your panties to the side, you lined him against your entrance. his breath catches, fingers finding your hips as you start to sink down onto him, inch by inch, teasing slowness, warm and tight until he’s fully buried inside you. his cock stretched you just right. a strangled moan escapes both of your lips.

“holy shit,” a low, wrecked sound escapes his throat, as he grips your hips tightly, trying his best not to unload right there, “thank you,” he trembles, breathing shakily.

he was obviously not going to last long. and it was so extremely hot. you discard the flashcards as you rolled your hips once, slow and deep, each movement designed to drive him out of his mind. mark’s hands are everywhere now, on your back, thighs, gripping your ass as he helps guide your motion, pushing up into you with desperate need. everytime you drop your hips, he lets out another choked curse, eyes glued to the way your body moves against his. you feel his cock twitch inside you, a telltale sign that he was incredibly close to coming undone.

“you gonna cum for me?,” you whisper against his ear, teeth gently grazing the lobe. he nods frantically, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. he’s never felt this kind of pleasure before, the kind that makes him lose absolutely all sense of logic, just nodding like he was some sort of yes-man.

“-fuucck kitten, yes, d-don’t stop, p-pleasee,” his whines encourage you, dragging your hips in a deep circle that has you both gasping. it doesn’t take long. the tension you’ve built the entire session finally snaps as he groans your name, hands clutching you, hips buckling up hard, coming with a gasp buried into your neck.

you don’t stop bouncing. continuing to fuck yourself into his cock, rubbing your own clit.

“k-kitten, it hurts,” he whines. you block all of his pleas of stops, all of his whimpers, the way he’s fully crying out, fingers gripping his own hair, until your thighs are shaking, orgasm taking over, a loud moan slipping from your lips as you cling to him, both of you gasping, bodies slick and trembling.

you absolutely wrecked him — mark’s vision blacks out for a minute too long. his arms loosely wrapped around you as he tried to catch his breath. hair sticking to his skin. that was the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had and he’s had a lot.

and just like the past two tutoring sessions, mark was out the door as soon as he got dressed and it doesn’t get any better than this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 11. friday.

mark enters the university’s basketball court, searching for your frame. you’d texted him to meet you here, a lot earlier than the usual tutoring session. the court was empty, echoing slightly and he spots you instantly, sitting on the bleachers with a book in your hand — he wonders what today’s game is, a little worried about the public location you chose.

“hey dude,” he redirects your attention to him, “are we about to indulge in exhibitionism?,” he teases, an eyebrow going up.

you laugh, closing your book. “no mark, we can’t have sex today,” offering him a sheepish smile.

he looks at you like you just delivered the worst news he could ever hear, “is everything okay?,” he asks, taking a seat next to you.

you nod, “everything’s fine, i’m just on my period,” you say casually, turning toward him.

his eyes widen slightly in acknowledgment before a grin breaks out of his face, “you know…,” he leans in, whispering, like you weren’t the only two people in this room right now, “a period only stops a sentence,” he teases.

you roll your eyes, lightly shoving his face away, “nu-uh mark lee, no way,” you say crashing all his dreams of period sex down the drain, a light smile on your lips.

“why not?, i heard somewhere, it helps with all the cramps and stuff,” he continued, still trying to convince you.

“i’m on my second day, everything’s too messy,” you say flatly, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “—anyways that’s not why we’re here,” you rise from the bleachers, grabbing one of the basketballs on the side and tossing it to him.

mark catches it easily, “we’re gonna play basketball?”, he asks, a brow raising.

“yup, i read somewhere that physical activity helps with memory retention, so we’re gonna play a game while i tutor you,” you explain, standing a little below the hoop.

“you can play basketball?,” he asks, clearly amused, as he starts dribbling the ball in front of you.

“i’m no co-captain of the basketball team or anything but i’ve got a few moves,” you reply, stealing the ball from him with a cheeky grin, “and…if you win, you get to choose what we do during the next session.”

his brow raises, a smirk on his face, mind already racing of things he wanted to do to you. he could have you in his lap as he fingers you until you cry for him. he could have you bent over your desk as he fucks into you. he could spend the whole day eating you out. the possibilities were endless.

“alright,” he says, already feeling competitive, “game on.”

mark dribbles lazily as he awaits your question. you narrow your eyes, “the classical era dates are?”

mark answers quickly, “1750-1820,” like it was a piece of cake. he really is getting better at paying attention in class.

“correct. take the shot.” he does and it bounces off the rim, a curse slipping from his lips. you catch the ball with a grin.

“the romantic era dates are?,” you ask, already dribbling towards the other side. mark gets the answers correct again as you ducked under his arm, tossing the ball into the net.

“okay, showoff,” he mutters playfully, jogging to grab the ball. the game goes on for a solid fifteen minutes. the two of you jogging back and forth. you call out questions, dates, composers, and mark fires back with surprisingly accurate answers. it was a good game between friends, a good session between a tutor and her student.

mark was winning now with several points ahead of you. he hasn’t missed a single shot since the first one, while you were just getting lucky every time you made the ball in your net. he can’t help but find it adorable though – the way your face would light up every time you made a shot. the way you would do a mini celebration, a happy little dance. it was so different from your usual serious, focused, studious side. this side of you is loose, giddy, warm and he’s having way more fun than he expected to.

“alright,” you say breathless but still trying to keep up with him, “dates of the modern–”

you don’t get to finish your question. a sudden wave of pain crashes through your abdomen, so sharp it knocks the air right out of you. you double over mid-step, the ball slipping from your hands and bouncing off to the side, a yelp coming slipping from your lips.

“w-what’s wrong?!,” mark practically bolts to your side as you inhale, trying to catch your breath.

“sorry, just a really bad cramp,” you say, shutting your eyes as the pain traveled all throughout your body. he watches you for a second or two, eyes scanning your figure, registering the pain before he closes the distance, crouching in front of you. he has no idea what to do. he’s never dealt with a girl on her period before. his hands hover for a moment before resting gently at your sides, fingertips against your lower abdomen in slow circles.

you flinch, surprised at his touch, “what are you doing?”

“don’t massages help?,” he asks softly, big brown eyes filled with worry. his touch is careful, like he’s afraid of making it worse. you don’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t really help, not with cramps this intense. still, the gesture alone tugs something warm in your chest. so for a moment you just let yourself sink into it, leaning against his chest for support like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your head rests there, tentative at first, then heavier. it’s a moment of vulnerability you haven’t shown anyone for a long time – not since your ex made you feel like needing comfort was a flaw, like softness was a burden.

mark stills when you rest against him, almost like he’s holding his breath. then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you, careful and steady, not sure if any of this is okay. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you, warm and solid, his chin brushing the top of your head as you breathe through the pain. no teasing, no jokes, no snide remarks – just quiet presence.

eventually, you gently pull back, and he feels himself straighten as if waking from a trance. “i think i have to cut the tutoring session short today,” you say apologetically.

“kitten, don’t even worry about that,” he says immediately. the nickname — usually tossed around with a grin, lands softer now. you don’t think too much about it, brushing off the feeling as soon as it came.

slowly, you got up from the floor, pushing through the lingering pain, “i’m gonna go home and die now,” you say with a weak laugh. he chuckles quietly, standing with you.

“i’ll walk you home,” he offers and you turn it down immediately.

“it’s okay, mark,” you make your way back to the bleachers, gathering your things. “i’m a big girl,” you add, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “i can take care of myself,” you shoot him a smile as he follows you out the court.

“you sure?,” he asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s still not convinced.

“yeah,” you say gently, “thank you, though. i'll see you on monday,” you lean up and press a light kiss to his cheek, quick, grateful. then you turn to leave, not waiting for his response.

behind you, he stays still on the court, watching your figure walk away like he’s not quite ready to let the moment end. the kiss on the cheek lingering on his skin.

once he got back to the dream house, mark still can’t help but wonder if you were okay. he’d showered, changed, even tried zoning out to whatever song was playing through his speakers but his thoughts kept circling back to you. the image of you doubling over in pain, your face twisting as you tried to play it off, like it was nothing, kept replaying in his head like a song stuck on loop.

and he hated it – hated seeing you hurt. hated the way you pretended it wasn’t a big deal. hated the way you apologized for needing a break and absolutely hated the way you waved him off, like his concern was too much.

he told himself it was normal. this was normal. he is your friend. it’s normal to be worried about your friends. that’s allowed.

when he walked into the living room and found jaemin sprawled across the couch, glued to his phone and jeno halfway through a protein bar, he didn’t stop to think before blurting out, “what do you do when angel and bunny are on their periods?”

the question dropped like a brick. jaemin blinked, his gaze dropping from his phone to mark, “uhh why?,” he asks, a curious grin on his face.

mark shrugs, flopping down onto the couch “nothing, just curious.”

there was a beat of silence, then jaemin replied, “well, angel’s gonna murder me for saying this but she gets needy…wants me glued to her side the whole time with extra cuddles and kisses…heating pads are a must,” jaemin chuckles, “oh and sex helps too,” he says with a wink.

mark huffed a quiet laugh, “what about bunny?,” he turns to jeno.

jeno choked on his water, “uh–what? bunny and i don’t have sex,” he says flustered.

mark eyes him suspiciously, “yeah, i know. that’s not what i meant,” he says slowly, “i mean she’s your best friend and you’ve known her since forever right, you should know what she’s like on her period?,” he asks, a playful grin on his lips.

“oh..right,” jeno mutters, “uhm she’s the complete opposite, she locks herself in her room like she’s going into hibernation mode, she just texts me with a list of snacks she wants and i leave those at her door and leave,” he explains.

mark chuckled, but it faded quickly. his mind was racing with a million thoughts of how he could make you feel better. what were you like? did you want to be left alone? did you want snacks? cuddles?...is cuddling even allowed?

jaemin tilted his head, studying him. “wait…is this about your girl?”

mark blinked, “she’s not my girl.”

jeno gave him a long, skeptical look.

“she’s really not!,” mark repeated, more defensively this time, “we’re just friends and i care about my friends well being, okay? that’s all,” he convinces himself more than he does them. before they could say anything else, mark stood up, headed for the door.

⟢

when your phone buzzed, you squinted at the notification from your cocoon of blankets, blinking away the throb of cramps that hadn’t quite given up yet.

mark: hi friend

mark: i’m outside

mark: just want to make sure you’re okay lol

you hesitated, considering pretending to be asleep but something in you tugged toward the door. that soft, stubborn part that wanted not to feel alone tonight. curse these hormones. you cracked it open to find him there, hoodie half zipped, a plastic grocery bag in hand.

“hi,” he said, a little breathless, “i brought you some things.”

you opened the door wider, letting him in, “i told you i was okay.”

“i know but as your friend i had to make sure,” he practically shoves the bag in your hand as you inspect what’s inside. the bag was filled with different kinds of snacks, chocolates, candies, and three boxes of heat patches.

you took the heat patches out and raised a brow, “three?”

“listen,” he said, flopping lightly on your couch, “jaemin said they were ‘a must’ and i panicked,” he says casually and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept up. it’s been a while since the last time you’ve let anyone do anything for you.

“thank you,” you breathe, the words soft and sincere, stripped of your usual teasing edge. the smile you give him isn’t your usual sly smirk either, it’s quieter, gentler and it makes something in mark’s chest flutter unexpectedly. he looks at you a second too long, heartbeat catching like it’s suddenly forgotten how to work properly.

minutes later, the snacks were spread out on your coffee table, a heating patch working its magic under your hoodie and to all the boy’s i've loved before playing on your t.v. mark sits beside you, a careful few inches of space between your bodies. he didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t try to cheer you up with jokes or distractions. he was just there – steady and warm and quiet.

when the credits roll, he finally speaks, voice low, “you know,” he says, glancing over at you with a soft smile, “for someone who doesn’t believe in love, i wasn’t expecting you to put on a romcom,” he turns his body towards you as you sat end to end on the couch.

you laugh, shifting slightly under the shared blanket, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a tired smile, “please, your favorite movie is spiderman…do you believe he’s real?”

“how do you know spiderman’s my favorite movie?,” he asks, a light smirk on his face.

“sophomore year, film elective class, you were totally geeking, practically bouncing up and down next to me,” you remind him, exaggerating the detail a tiny bit.

mark huffs a laugh and nudges your knee with his, “ok but it’s different…spiderman is a fantasy character.”

“exactly,” you say, your voice softening, “so is love.”

the words aren’t bitter. just…matter-of-fact. like something long accepted and carefully folded away.

mark turns his head toward you, studying your face in the dim glow of the screen. shadows play across your features, softening the hard lines you've spent building — he thinks back to the first time you met during freshman year orientation. you were the first person he’d ever talked to, bouncing up to him in a soft blue sundress and a smile too big for the room. you introduced yourself with sparkles in your eyes, asking him if he believed in soulmates, like that was a completely normal ice breaker. you were glowing then, all wide-eyed and wonder. all heart. spilling stories about your high school boyfriend like love was the most natural thing in the world. he hadn't even told you his name yet, and there you were, already peeling yourself open for him, talks of forever from your pink lips. you were all blush-colored hope and reckless honesty. he remembered thinking you were kind of intense. too trusting. overly romantic. he hadn’t understood the way your whole world seemed to spin on the axis of love.

now, years later, that sparkle has been replaced by a colder fire, a guarded kind of strength he’s grown used to. the kind that keeps everyone at arm’s length. the kind that never let’s anyone close enough to see where it hurts. your smile — once easy and disarming, has taken a brittle edge, still beautiful, but sharpened by something heavy and unspoken. you don't talk about soulmates anymore. you don't talk about love at all, not unless you're tearing it down.

he noticed the change during the last semester of freshman year. people whispered about your breakup, but no one knew the details. just that it ended and something in you shifted. like someone had quietly reached inside and flipped a switch — it became more evident when even the way you dress has changed. your light, gentle dresses were replaced by blacks and deep reds, structured silhouettes that made you look untouchable. strong. sharp. sometimes he wonders if you’re hiding behind those clothes or they just mirror what’s left…he wonders when exactly the world taught you to stop believing in forever.

“what made you say that?,” he asks finally, voice low, careful not to press too hard but needing to understand.

you hesitate, eyes not meeting his just yet. debating whether its safe to give this piece of yourself away. and maybe it was the vulnerability of the night. maybe it was your hormones messing with your brain, like you’ll tell yourself later. but right now, you find yourself answering him.

“it’s just…” you exhale, like the words are caught in your chest, “love doesn’t last. people swear it’s forever and then suddenly, it’s not. one day you’re holding hands and dreaming together, you have a ring on your finger and the next they’re telling you that you’re too much. too needy,” you blink slowly, memories flickering behind your eyes, “that he only loved me because it was easy. and the second it got hard, he left.”

mark stiffens beside you, “you were engaged?,” he asks, surprise threading through his voice.

“shocking, right?,” you force out a dry laugh, bitter around the edges, “i almost fell for the scam.” your voice is steady, each word carefully measured, telling the story without letting it touch you. but your eyes betray you, they've gone distant, unfocused, like you’re watching a memory you wish you could turn off. there’s a smile on your lips but it’s all muscle memory. empty. the kind of smile people put on when they’re used to pretending they're fine.

mark’s jaw tightens. there’s a sharp flare of protectiveness in his chest, something hot and furious aimed at the ghost of a man he’s never met.

you continue, voice barely above a whisper, “so yeah, spider-man, love, same category…fiction.”

the silence that follows is thick, heavy, but mark doesn’t rush to fill it. he sits in it with you, lets it stretch out between the two of you without trying to clean it up. the pain in your voice isn’t loud, but it’s there – woven through your words like thread through fabric. he doesn’t throw some cliche about how the right person will come along. does not insult you with hollow optimism that people usually responded with. he doesn't try to talk you out of your truth or tape over a wound he can't even see the full shape of.

instead he nudges your knee again, gentler this time. a small touch, reassuring.

“i don’t think you’re too much,” he says quietly, the words careful and real, “not even a little.”

you look at him then. you don’t say anything for a while, neither does mark. and he’s not sure if that was something he was even allowed to say. you’ve built so many walls that even kindness feels like trespassing…then, in true fashion, you break the weight with a teasing smile, “who’s your favorite spiderman anyway?,” you ask.

the shift it so perfectly timed, so you, that it makes mark huff a laugh. he knows its your way of giving you both room to breathe again and he's grateful for the shift.

“tobey,” mark says with zero hesitation.

you groan dramatically, hands flying to your face, “no way, everyone who says they’re favorite spiderman is tobey is blinded by nostalgia! his spiderman was a creepy stalker!,” you argue passionately.

you lower your hands just in time to see mark laugh…really laugh. the kind that crinkles his eyes and pulls a genuine sound from his chest and it makes something bloom in yours.

“okay well, who’s yours then?,” he asks playfully. “andrew.”

he scoffs, “nope, his peter parker was great but his spiderman was not ‘spidermanning’ at all!,” he argues back, the made-up word slipping out so confidently it makes your brows lift.

you roll your eyes, a smile on your lips, “i didn’t say i liked him for the spiderman of it all.”

“oh?” he says, eyes gleaming with curiosity, “then what?”

you shrug, slow and teasing, “he’s the prettiest one…and,” you lean in a little closer, mark watching you, “i like looking at pretty things.”

his smile falters for a split second, eyes flicking to your lips.

“do you now?,” he murmured, voice lower now, the space between your faces shrinking by the second.

“mhm,” you mutter and then, without overthinking it, you close the space and kiss him softly, slowly, carefully, like testing the weight of something fragile, unsure if it’s meant to be held at all. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. it’s not like any of the others you’ve shared before – not playful, not messy, not reckless. this one feels like stepping into something unknown.

it doesn’t last long. just a few seconds. just lingers enough to feel real.

when you finally break apart, neither of you speaks right away, just looking in each other’s eyes like you unlocked something dangerous. the stillness lingers, dense and a little too loud.

you're the one to break it, typical you, peeling the weight away with a crooked smile, “i’m still not down for period sex” you tease. he forces himself to laugh, trying to push away the tension that lingered in the air.

“fair enough,” mark says, standing slowly, “you should rest anyway and maybe lay off the tobey slander,” he says.

you laugh softly, leaning your head against the couch cushions as you watch him move around your apartment like he belongs here, “i’m right about him.”

he chuckles, grabbing his phone and keys, “text me if you need anything, seriously. even if it’s just to complain about life,” he says warmly, a small smile visible on his features.

“thanks for tonight, mark,” you say as you get up, stretching your limbs and walking him to your door.

he pauses in the doorway, like he wants to say something else, but instead he just nods, “of course, that’s what friends do.”

and then he leans in again, placing a soft kiss on your temple. his voice is quieter this time, almost tender, “goodnight, kitten.”

you freeze, just for a second, but your response comes automatically, “goodnight, mark”

and with that, he’s gone, the door closing with a soft click. you’re left in the quiet and for the first time in a long time, your apartment doesn’t feel quite so lonely. and still, despite the warmth lingering on your lips, despite the comfort of knowing someone cares, there it is, crawling up your spine and tightening in your chest — fear.

⟢

the walk back to the dream house was quiet. mark’s hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his arms but the cool night air doesn’t do much to ease the heat still lingering in his chest. the night loops in his head like an endless record.

the kiss. he’s never been kissed like that. like it was more than two lips touching, chasing the lust.

that kiss was cautious. it had weight. like it had been carved out of something deeper, something neither of you knew how to name. he was sure of it. it’s the way you looked at him, like you completely trusted him, even for just a second. and maybe it didn’t last. maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and bury it under sarcasm and boundaries. but that look…that look is stuck under his skin now.

he exhales slowly, staring down at the sidewalk. his footsteps echoing in the quiet — you were vulnerable tonight. he knows that. he could feel it in the way you curled in on yourself when the cramps got bad, the cracks between your jokes, that look in your eyes when you talked about your ex. mark noticed it all. that’s the problem. because he doesn’t know what the kiss meant or if it even meant anything at all. maybe it was just comfort. a soft, fleeting thing you reached for in the moment. maybe you’ll wake up and decide it wasn’t real. if that’s the case, he’ll happily play along, laugh it off, bury it.

but his chest still feels tight. he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you said love was a fantasy. and you still kissed him that way. like he mattered. like he was more than just your friend, more than just a body in your bed.

his mind is all over the place. thoughts going back and forth. he swallows hard, jaw tightening. all this thinking wasn’t supposed to happen. you were never supposed to mean anything. for god’s sake, he was the one who said that you couldn’t fall in love with him with. he meant it, too. back then, it felt like the safest thing to say. a wall, not just for you but for him, too.

he doesn’t do love. he’s always been good at lines. at keeping things in neat boxes. clean. uncomplicated. no drama. bodies, not hearts. moments with no meaning, only pleasure. he knows how to care just enough to make it feel good and not enough for it to matter. he’s practiced, efficient, detached.

but something about tonight is cracking through that. and he’s not sure he’s ready to face it.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 14. monday.

when mark entered your apartment, he hadn’t known what to expect. he’d spent the entire weekend mentally pacing, replaying friday night over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every breath between you. and then he’d forced himself to stop. to push any thoughts of you away, telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

but still, when you opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest like it hadn’t gotten the memo.

then you smiled, that same guarded expression, the one that never quite reached your eyes. you looked the same you had last week, composed, cool and out of his reach. he knew right then, that he was right. that moment was fleeting and completely over. erased.

“hey, earth to mark lee, you there?,” you wave your hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daydream.

“yeah, sorry, what was the question?,” he asked, blinking.

“dang dude, you weren’t lying when you said sex helps you focus,” you tease him. today was another no sex session, seeing as you were still on your period.

he chuckles, letting out a groan and burying his face in your pillows, “i can’t belive god gave you periods, this has been the longest week of my life.”

you sat cross-legged on your bed, mark sprawled out beside you, “i told you i can always give you a blowjob.”

his nose scrunches up, peeking at you from the pillow, “no. not after your last blowjob session.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you feigned innocence.

“kitten,” he deadpanned, lifting his head to glare at you, “you edged me so hard, i cried.”

“and?” you grinned, shameless, “didn’t it make the orgasm like 10x better?”

“at what cost, though?,” he asked dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, “i saw my soul leave my body.”

you laughed, reaching over to poke his side, “but you survived.”

“barely,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, sitting up, facing you now, “you really enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”

“only when you make it so easy,” you said sweetly, “besides, you didn’t complain that much.”

mark let out a long exaggerated sigh, head tilted towards you, “you’re lucky i like you.”

it slipped out carelessly. there was a beat of silence. the two of you holding your breaths at the words he uttered out.

for a second, neither of you moved. mark cursed himself internally. really? now? after a weekend of telling himself it meant nothing…he says that? out of all the things he could’ve said? he really needed to get better at thinking things out before saying them.

the memory of friday night replays in your mind. the slow kiss, the quiet way you looked at each other, the parts of yourself you weren’t supposed to show. you didn’t know why you let it happen but you did. what you do know is that you crossed a line and you had to make things clear.

you shifted slightly, voice coming out softer than before, “listen, mark…about friday night,” you bring up and you feel him freeze slightly.

“i really am grateful for the snacks and having a friend there but…,” you hesitated, searching for the right words, “i was all up in my period feelings and did some stuff i usually wouldn’t...”

you glanced at him, “if that makes sense?”

“no, i get it,” he said quickly, too quickly. “don’t worry i didn’t read too much into it,” he lies.

“cool,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile, “so…we’ll just forget about it?”

he ignores the way you can’t say the word kiss. he ignores the way he can’t bring himself to say that word either. both of you dancing around the “stuff” that happened.

he looked at you for a beat, then cracked a grin, “forget about what?”

you chuckle, shoving his shoulder and reaching out for your notes, resuming the session like nothing happened. like your heart hadn’t skipped a beat. like his hadn’t just cracked a little more under the pressure of pretending.

before the silence could settle over you, you change the topic, “you know, you kinda remind me of peter parker.”

mark raises an eyebrow, amused, “oh yeah? how?”

you lean back, teasing, “you’re always acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders but somehow manage to crack a joke when it counts.”

this surprises him a little bit. he hadn’t realized how much you could actually see through him during these past tutoring sessions. how close you’d been paying attention. he doesn’t dwell on it, afraid of what other feelings it may unlock.

“i didn’t know i was that dramatic,” he finally says, playing it off with a small laugh.

“you’re not,” you say, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, “but you carry more than you let on.”

mark looks away, lips pressing into a faint line. he wants to keep the mood light, to make another dumb spiderman joke but your words hit a little too close. and that unsettles him more than he cares to admit. he clears his throat, “well, does that make you mj or gwen?,” he flirts.

you smirk, “neither. i'm your guy in the chair.”

mark laughs, eyes crinkling, “you mean like ned?”

“exactly. reliable. sarcastic. smarter than you and absolutely not dying in anyone’s tragic love arc.”

“bold of you to assume,” he says with a grin, shaking his head. you grin back, flipping a page in your notebook. you go back to explaining the notes in front of you and he listens, nodding at the right times.

on the surface, everything settles back into easy rhythm — banter and bullet points. but under all the teasing and laughter, one thing stayed unspoken. neither of you had really forgotten. not even a little.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 16. wednesday.

to say mark was excited was a complete understatement. clearing things up with you absolutely helped, he wasn’t left wondering the maybe’s. he blamed the momentary feeling on that night and it was done. explained. buried deep in a box somewhere.

today was all about his reward and he was absolutely ecstatic. he’d been counting down to this ever since your little basketball game ended in his favor. he knew exactly what he wanted as soon as the proposition was brought up. this was his moment – his perfect payback for that blowjob that ended in tears and torment.

so when you asked him what he wanted and he replied with, “i want to cut tutoring short today and have my way with you,” you had no other option but to oblige.

which is how you ended up here now, seated between his legs, thighs parted, panties long gone. your slick glistened in the warm light of your bedroom, a blindfold wrapped securely around your head – completely open, completely at his mercy. the cloth stays firm over your eyes, heightening every sense. you feel everything. his breath on your shoulder, the heat of his thighs beneath yours, the stillness between touches. you sat there, waiting…then you felt it.

something cool and slender lightly tracing along the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, legs twitching at the unexpected contact, “what is that?”

mark hums thoughtfully, as if considering the question, “just something i found lying around.”

it moves again, gliding upward, skimming where you needed him most. he circles the object around your clit without pressure, ghosting enough to make you clench. you shift your hips, trying to chase the feeling, but he’s already pulling it away.

“mark,” you grit out, jaw tightening.

“shh,” he murmurs, nibbling on your ear, “let me enjoy my reward.” you swallow hard, heat pooling in your stomach. you were sure this torture was going to last forever and you knew he was doing this on purpose. teasing you to the edge, just like you did to him.

the thing, whatever it is, drags lightly over your folds now, collecting wetness as it goes, “so fucking wet and i haven’t even touched you yet,” he whispers beside you, making goosebumps rise throughout your neck. you’re about to snap a snarky remark when his fingers suddenly replace the object, two of them sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness, pressing just enough to build pressure but not nearly enough to satisfy.

“fuck,” you gasp, fingers clutching his thigh as your hips jerked. he lets you have his digits, inserting two of his fingers and curling them just where you need him the most but before you can even enjoy it, he pulls back.

you whine as he withdraws, leaving you empty and throbbing, “we’re just starting, kitten,” you hear the smirk in his voice and it’s absolutely annoying — to be vulnerable this way and have no control.

mark brings the mystery object back, the cool tip sliding up your folds again, this time more deliberately. you squirm, desperate for friction. the blindfold has turned your entire body into a nerve – every inch sensitive, every second unbearable. then you feel his hands again, large and warm, settling on your thigh, the other slipping into your shirt and gliding up your torso, fingers leaving a blaze of fire until he reaches your breast.

you inhale sharply when his fingertips ghost over one nipple, already peaked and begging for attention, “you’re always so sensitive here,” his voice cuts through the silence, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier. his thumb brushes over the bud, a whine slipping from your lips. he has you memorized by now. the little ticks that turn you on. which was a lot for mark, considering most of his past sexual partners had only been for one night.

something brushes over your nipple – cool, round, smooth. you’re not sure if its the same object and it’s driving you insane, “what the hell is that?,” you ask, your voice breathless. mark doesn’t answer this time, just littering kisses along your neck, letting the object speak for him. it circles your nipple slowly, deliberately, then he flicks it lightly, sharp enough to make you gasp and arch forward, your head resting against that space between his neck. his free arm comes up to your waist, keeping you locked against him.

“you’re not allowed to squirm yet,” he murmurs near your ear, voice thick with satisfaction. he switched to your other breast, teasing it with that same cold precision. the contrast between your flushed skin and the chill of the object is enough to make your toes curl. you needed more.

you writhe, frustrated, “mark, please,” you beg for something…anything.

“shhh kitten,” he soothes, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “be patient.”

his mouth returned to your neck, warm and wet, while the mystery object rolled lazily across your breast. your aching cunt left throbbing and dripping. you feel the hard press of his cock through his sweats and still he makes no move to satisfy either of you. he trails lower, teeth grazing your shoulder and just when you think the cold object might return to your nipple, it doesn’t.

instead, his fingers return, sliding down your slick folds. two strokes. three. then gone again.

“mark,” you gasp, body twitching under the restraint of his arm. you can’t think of any other word but his name — so caught up in the thrill of it all.

“you keep saying my name like i’m gonna feel bad,” he says with a chuckle, “i’m just repaying you.” then he brings the cold object down again, dragging it teasingly along your inner thigh before brushing it just over your clit, making you shudder in his hold, as he smirks behind you.

“kitten, you wanna know what i’ve been using?,” he whispers, smug and quiet. you nod quickly, barely able to breathe. he brought it up in front of your face, knowing full well you couldn’t see it and said, clearly amused, “your pen.”

you groan, “there’s no way it feels that good,” you managed to say. he just laughed quietly, brushing your hair back from your face, “the power of a blindfold,” he whispers. you barely had time to process his words before he was shifting behind you, leaving you sitting on your bed alone. a mixture of confusion, excitement and slight fear at the thought of what he has planned.

mark makes his way around, standing at the foot of your bed as he watches, loving the way you had no idea what’s coming to you. his hand makes contact with your shoulder, making you jump slightly as he pushes you down to your sheets, your back making contact with your soft pillows. you sucked in a shaky breath, wonder traveling throughout your body. then he hovers over you, kissing the hollow of your throat as he carefully pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere, exposing your tits to the cool air. he lets his tongue graze, tracing a path down the center of your chest until his lips find your nipple again. you gasped as his mouth closed around it, sucking, warm and wet. the suction paired with the flick of his tongue in a rhythm that made your spine arch.

“fucking perfect,” he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing before he soothed the sting with another kiss. his hand moved to the other breast, thumb circling lazily around the peak, squeezing just enough to make your hips buck.

but he didnt move lower, “you like being edged, don’t you?,” he whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction.

you whimpered, nodding, desperate, frustrated.

“use your words, kitten,” mark demands.

“yes,” you gasped, “please, mark, just–,” your plea broke off into a cry when his mouth trailed lower, down your stomach, leaving goosebumps behind. he stopped just above your mound, breathing you in like you were the only thing in the world.

“you smell like heaven,” he praises. then his hands gripped your thighs, firm and possessive, pulling you open further – his mouth on you in a second, hot, wet and needy. his tongue dragged through your folds slowly, deliberately. one long, teasing lick. then another, circling your clit, keeping you on the edge. you moaned, loud and desperate, your hand flying to his hair instinctively. he groaned at the contact, encouraged. finally, he gave your clit the attention it had been begging for, flicking, sucking, licking until your thighs were trembling.

and just when your stomach starts to clench — he pulls back.

“no–,” you gasped, “don’t stop, please—”

but he had already moved his mouth, licking the inside of your thigh, soothing and tortuous all at once.

“not yet,” he said, voice dark and patient, “you don’t get to come until i say so.”

you could cry from how badly you needed him. he was relentless, bending your body to his rhythm, his pace. his tongue returned, more insistent now, fingers slipping inside you this time, curling just right and every time that heat started to spiral, his mouth would pull away, his rhythm would slow and the wave would slip just out of reach.

it was torture – delicious, devastasting torture.

your breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. the blindfold making it worse. every sound, every touch, every breath he took, every swipe of his tongue felt magnified. and mark was loving every second of it. the way he had all control under his fingertips.

“you keep sucking in my fingers,” he murmured, voice thick with arousal. “you wanna cum that badly, kitten?”

you nod furiously, broken whimpers slipping past your lips, your pride long gone. then you felt it again. that same, cool rounded object from earlier. your pen.

he dragged the tip of it along your folds, now slick and pulsing from his touch, watching the way your legs twitched with each pass, “bet you’ll never look at this thing the same again,” he whispered near your hip. the pen collects your dripping arousal, “such a mess,” he breathes out, tongue surprisingly latching onto your folds again, sucking your juices. you whimpered as he slides a finger inside you again, slower, deeper, making you feel every second of it.

“you feel how close you are?,” he asked, voice gravelly, dangerous. you nodded frantically, choking on a breath only for him to pull back again.

“mark, please, i’m sorry,” you cry out desperately. wanting so bad to finally be relieved. the edging was too much. your clit was throbbing so painfully and you needed him so badly. he leaves you untouched for a second too long, watching you squirm for him.

then with absolutely no warning, mark slaps his hard cock against your cunt, making you moan out in pleasure. he slides his member up and down your wet folds, teasing your entrance and for a moment you don’t even care that he’s not wearing a condom. his skin felt so fucking good againts yours. you just wanted him inside you. you felt the tip of him nudge against you again. but he didn’t push in. he just stayed there, teasing.

you whined, toes curling into the sheets, body arching up, “please….”

he chuckled, low, quiet, “i love hearing you beg,” he said, his tip brushing over your clit, solid and hot against your slick, “makes it real tempting to give in.”

“i could take you right now, kitten,” he whispered, voice wrecked with restraint, “you’d be so good for me, so ready,” he hums against your skin.

you gasped, barely holding onto your sanity, practically sobbing, “please do it, mark, please i need you,” you were soaked, throbbing, voice breaking with utter desperation — that was all he needed to hear. mark wraps his member and not even a second later he finally thrusts into you, sliding into your hole with ease. your body was so prepared for him, walls completely squeezing around his cock so perfectly, so warm.

he yanks off the blindfold from your face and for a moment the room spins with light and clarity until his brown eyes come into view. your tear-filled eyes meet his and the heat in his steals your breath. he was breathing just as hard as you are. just as worked up. he brings your legs up to your shoulders, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, holding on to him like he was your lifeline. he was in so deeply, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. you were trembling, panting hard, jaw clenching as you fought to keep your eyes open. mark hovered above you, his thrusts unrelenting, his own breath ragged, the heat between you unbearable. you moaned his name like it was the only word you’ve ever learned, your voice dissolving into desperate, broken sounds.

“i’m gonna—mark, i’m gonna…,” your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into his skin.

“—go on kitten,” he growled in your ear, voice thick with hunger, “cum for me.”

that was it. the pleasure tore through you like a wave, your whole body arching as your orgasm finally hit you. hard. jaw going slack, vision blurring, eyes rolling back as you practically saw stars. the way your pussy pulsed around him sent mark over the edge, “fuck kitten, such a good girl,” he managed to say in between breaths, before he was groaning in your neck, spilling into the condom. his movements slowed as he rode it out, then he collapsed gently on top of you, both of you shaking, skin slick and flushed.

you stay there for a moment or two, trying to even your ragged breathing. then…laughter bubbled from your lips. light, uncontrollable, like something cracked open inside you and it sounds like music to his ears.

“what?” his head lifted slightly, brows drawn, cock still inside you.

you giggled again, still catching your breath, “h-holy shit, mark” you gasped, eyes glassy with aftershocks, “i don’t think i’ve ever came that hard before.”

he gave you that crooked, self-satisfied boyish smirk and you almost regret complimenting him. then slowly, he pulled out of you, making your body ache with the sudden absence.

carefully, he brushed the tears from the corner of your eyes, “you okay though? i wasn’t too much?”

your heart tripped in your chest. you hated that it did.

you nodded, keeping it casual, ignoring the way his concern made something twist painfully inside you, “yeah. i’m good.”

he nods, settling beside you as you laid there, still catching your breath, your limbs buzzing, body sore in a satisfying way. mark hadn’t moved much either, his arm casually draped over your thigh, chest rising and falling steadily with you. neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t awkward. it was warm. settled. easy in a way it probably shouldn’t have been. it was too dangerous. you needed to break it.

“i’m hungry,” you said, voice still scratchy.

mark glanced over at you, a brow raised, “i just gave you an orgasm of a lifetime and the first thing on your mind is food?”

you gave him a lazy grin, “we burned a lot of calories from that, we deserve carbs”

he didn’t comment on your use of we. or the way that there was a we now makes his heart skip a beat. but the fact that he liked the sound of a we was far worse. that box he buried somewhere deep inside, suddenly popping up.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, forcing out another laugh.

you reached for your phone on the nightstand, “pizza okay with you?,” and he realizes you’re inviting him to stay. you’re not kicking him out like you usually do after a session.

he pushes it a bit further, wanting to see how far this invitation goes “as long as i get to pick the movie this time.”

you narrowed your eyes at him like he’d stepped on thin ice and he’s afraid he pushed it a little too far, misread the moment, until you say, “and what movie are you picking?”

a smile curved his lips as he grabbed his shirt and sweats off the ground, putting it on, “spiderman. obviously,” he says, already making his way to your living room couch.

you blinked at him then grabbed the first clothes within reach, your shorts from the far corner and his hoodie slung over your desk chair, “which one?,” you called through your room, putting the clothes on.

“there’s only one right answer!”

“andrew’s?,” you teased, walking out of your bedroom. he froze for a second. you, in his hoodie, smiling like that. that same smile from freshman year. his brain short-circuited. you were making this whole forgetting thing really hard.

“hope you don’t mind,” you said with a small laugh, “i have no idea where you threw my shirt,” you chuckle.

“that’s fine,” he replied, maybe a little too fast, “and no not andrew’s”

you snorted, “fine, i’ll order pepperoni and you can fangirl over your web-slinging childhood hero,” you smirk, calling papa john’s.

mark grinned as he turned on the t.v. and started searching for the movie, “hey, that’s spiderman, protector of new york, thank you very much.”

you settled beside him a few minutes later, pizza box on the coffee table, movie playing, quiet jokes exchanged through bites of crust and cheese. somewhere between tobey maguire’s awkward charm and halfway through the pizza box, the space between you disappeared. this time, there was no gap. no careful leaning away. your thighs brushed his and neither of you moved. neither of you said anything. but maybe, just maybe, you both felt it — that same quiet something that had been growing since that friday night. still unspoken. still unnamed.

and mark realizes that he could get used to this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 18. friday.

the door barely clicked shut before mark had his hands on you – rough, needy, all control. he didn’t waste a second. not a single hello, not a single warning. his mouth crashed into yours, all hunger and heat, urgent and commanding, steering you straight to the bedroom with the kind of focus only frustration could fuel.

“m-mark, what’s wrong?,” you managed to ask, concern laced in your voice.

“need you. now,” he growled, voice low, flat with no room for playfulness. you didn’t even make it to the bed. he spun you, yanked your shorts down, shoved you onto your desk chair. one hand ripping open a condom, the other dragging your panties aside and in one swift motion, he was inside you.

you gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping your desk table, not at all prepared for him. there was no easing in, no pause. just raw, relentless need. and he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. he had too much to burn off. he thrusted in and out of your hole with a desperate rhythm that had you gasping his name between moans. the sound of skin slapping echoing through your bedroom walls.

“fuuuck, kitten, just what i needed,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding on for life. you were sure his fingerprints would mark your skin. he pulls you back onto him with every snap of his hips, like he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough.

“mark, fuck,” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. but he didn’t slow down. he was absolutely locked in, chest heaving, only focused on reaching that high.

“everything’s fucked,” he muttered between gritted teeth, slamming into you hard, “i just needed this…needed you.”

you felt him twitch inside you, pace stuttering for half a second, just enough to send that familiar heat spiraling through your core. the roughness, the force, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing that mattered – it pushed you straight to the edge. your body tensed, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you. you clenched incredibly tight around him and that’s all it took.

“shit, i’m cumming,” he groaned, choking on the sound as he slammed in one last time, hips jerking, fingers still digging into your flesh like he’d break without the contact.

for a moment, all that filled the room was the sound of your breathing – heavy, wrecked, uneven. he stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against your back, arms still wrapped around your waist like letting go would make the world crash in again. his breath fanned hot across your skin, heavy and uneven but slowly starting to settle.

you blinked through the haze, heart still racing, legs barely steady beneath you. you turned your head slightly, voice hoarse but gentle, “mark, what was that?”

he didn’t answer at first. just exhaled, slow and ragged. then he pulled out with care, discarding the used condom and pulling his sweatpants back up. his hands steady you as he gently placed your panties back in place. he turned you to face him, guiding you to sit, and then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips – soft, slow and achingly tender. the complete opposite of everything that had come before.

“are you okay?,” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his face, searching for the answers in his eyes. he allowed himself to lean into your touch. almost like he needed it to breathe, eyes fluttering close for a second.

“jeno got in a fight,” he sighs heavily, voice low, almost defeated.

he sank into his knees in front of you, resting his head in your lap. without thinking, your fingers immediately thread through his hair like they belonged there, like this was normal. his arms wrapped around your waist with quiet desperation, “it got recorded, reached the dean in seconds and i had to go clean it up, make sure we don’t get shut down,” he says tiredly.

you just listen to him, letting him unravel.

“and finals are on monday, i think i’m ready…we’ve been studying really well, my quizzes went okay but it’s also my last chance…if i don’t pass these classes, i'm off the basketball team.”

his arms tightened around your waist like he was bracing himself.

“it’s just been…a lot, everyone thinks i’ve got it all together. they don’t even know i’ve managed to screw it all up…i’m failing my classes, the team…everyone,” his voice broke on the last word, barely more than a whisper.

his eyes shut again, like he couldn’t bear to have anyone see him like this — mark, who was everyone’s favorite. mark, who always made confidence look effortless. mark, who everyone admired, who never looked tired. mark, who was here, on your bedroom floor, falling apart.

and you realized now just how much he’d been carrying and how alone he must have felt doing it. he was a mirror of your own reflection. so you ask him the one question you wished people asked you.

“do you want to talk about it?,” you whispered, thumb softly brushing along his cheek.

his jaw tensed beneath your touch and you thought he might pull away. shove the vulnerability back down and wrap himself in that playful charm he wore so easily when you were sitting across from him at study session or tangled up in the sheets. but instead, his shoulders slumped. he starts, voice low and rough, “i thought i could fix it, just grind harder, push through like i’ve always been able to…but things just kept stacking up. practices, papers and now this thing with the fraternity.”

you’d seen the cracks, of course. you weren’t oblivious. him being late, the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders stay tense no matter how relaxed he tried to seem. but he always played it off and you never pushed.

“i couldn’t tell anyone,” he continued, softer now, “i’m the leader, the co-captain…i'm supposed to know what to do. everyone leans on me, if i fall apart what happens to the rest of them?.” he lets out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“and i couldn’t tell you. you’re already helping me so much with tutoring and the sex and i didn’t want to drag you into my shit. especially since…this thing between is isnt supposed to include this, right?”

you didn’t respond right away because he was right — there were walls between you that needed to stay up. this was supposed to be easy. you were supposed to be each other’s safe option. the ones who didn't come with emotional trauma. the ones who wouldn’t ask for more. the ones who never pried, just notes, flashcards and casual sex without the weight of feelings or expectations.

“we’re still friends mark,” you said gently, “and friends don't let you go through the hard stuff alone.”

your voice was soft, but steady. you offered a small, honest smile and he finally looks up, meeting your eyes, letting himself be seen. he didn’t say anything after that, just looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

you didn’t break the gaze, didn’t try to fill the silence. you just stayed there, fingers still gently curling in his hair. letting him be here. letting him breathe. and he did – his head rested in your lap, arms still loosely wrapped around your waist like he didn’t quite know how to let go. didn’t want to let go. you could feel the weight of him, every little thing he’s been holding in, slowly settling.

no one rushed to define what this moment meant. no one tried to make a joke to cut the lingering tension — it was just quiet. stretching between you full of things unsaid. of a certain kind of understanding that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. and for now, this was enough.

just two people, sitting in their own wreckage, breathing together, pretending they weren’t crossing a line.

eventually, you felt the need to offer him something more than quiet comfort. something normal. something safe.

“what do you say, we skip tutoring session for the day and watch spiderman 2, i can order chinese this time?,” you say, finally breaking the quiet.

his eyes flicked up to yours. there was a pause, like the suggestion took a second to land. then slowly, the tension in his face bagan to ease, a smile tugging on his lips, “and what about finals week?”

“mark you know it, you’ve gotten every single question right our last two sessions,” you reassure him, “there’s not a single doubt in my mind you’re going to pass,” you smirked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

that pulled a real breath of relief from him, a soft laugh, muffled against your lap, “we’re watching tobey’s spiderman 2, right?”

for the rest of the night, there was no tutoring, no expectations, no pressure. just honey walnut shrimp, fried rice, spider-man swinging through new york city and two people, curled up on the couch, who weren’t quite sure what they were but certain that this comfort, this closeness, was something they wanted.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 20. sunday.

mark: dude

mark: [1 image]

mark: saw this and thought of you

kitten: ???

kitten: mark. that’s just a cat.

mark: she has your eyes!!

kitten: bro 😭😭

kitten: she looks like she’s ready to attack u

mark: exactly

mark: just like you! 😼

kitten: seek help

kitten: and good luck on your finals markkk

kitten: you're gonna kill it

mark: what’s my reward if i pass? 🫣

kitten: freedom from me 🙂‍↕️

kitten: sex with anyone you want! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

kitten: any day you want!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark stared at your texts, thumbs hovering over the screen, his grin being wiped off — it was exactly the kind of thing you’d say. playful, detached, safe. like he hasn’t seen the most vulnerable parts of you. like you haven’t seen the worst parts of him.

his stomach churns in a funny way. it didn’t hit him until now that passing his classes also meant your tutoring sessions were over. no more flashcards, no more learning each other’s bodies, no more movie nights and greasy take out foods. no more you.

he set his phone down beside him, letting his head fall back against the pillow. suddenly, the finish line didn’t feel like a victory lap. it felt like a goodbye. and sure, you would still be around, he would still see you in passing, on campus, in random parties – you would still be his friend.

the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth. if he was being completely honest, he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want this to end just because the excuse to stay had run out. he wanted to be on your couch, watching spiderman. you still had six of them to go. he wanted the greasy takeout, the shared silence, the casual way your leg would brush against his like it didn’t mean everything.

he wanted to keep learning you. your favorite color, your favorite songs, your favorite everything until there was nothing left to learn. and even then, when all the learning is done, he just wanted to be there.

he wanted to be allowed to stay. to be able to wrap his arms around you and not wonder if he’s crossing a line. to show up with all your favorite snacks, and this time he knows what they are. to kiss you and not feel that sick, sinking guilt in his stomach when it meant more to him than it ever should have.

he started typing: what if i don’t want freedom from you?

he stared at it for a second. then deleted it.

typed again: sooo i still get to bother you after finals, right?

he deleted that one too.

mark: haha, nice 👍

he sighed, tossing his phone face-down onto the bed like that would somehow quiet the tightness in his chest.

your phone buzzed again. his response felt off or maybe it was just all in your head. you shook the thoughts away and turned back to your laptop, reviewing for your own classes.

you weren’t going there. you couldn't.

you refuse to be too much again. too needy.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 21. monday.

when mark stepped out of his last class of the day, he found you immediately, leaning against the wall, a drink in your hand, smiling at him.

before he could even think about it, his feet were already moving, carrying him, each step closing in towards you as he pulled you into a hug. his face nestles in the crook of your neck, a quiet sigh of relief slipping past his lips. he just wanted to stay here for a while. wrapped in the calm only you seemed to bring.

you froze, just for a moment. the hug catches you off guard. you’ve never been this touchy in public. you could feel the eyes on you, see a few raised brows in your peripheral vision. still, after a beat or two, you gave in, arms looping around his waist, one hand still gripping the cup of milk tea you got for him.

“it wasn’t that bad, was it?,” you murmured near his ear. he chuckles against your neck, the breath of air tickling before leaning back just enough to look at you, his hands still lingering on your hips like he’d forgotten to let go.

“i’m pretty sure i aced it,” he said, all confidence and charm.

you raise a brow, “so why did you just hug me like the world was ending?”

his smirk flickered, replaced by something quieter, heavier “you said once i passed, this would be over.”

he tried to keep it light, but the words tasted bitter, “figured, i should take what i can while i still can.”

you push away the feeling rising in your throat, glancing down at the drink in your hand, shoving the emotion aside “here, i got this for you, a mini reward.”

he takes it with a soft laugh, fingers brushing against yours, just a moment too long. his eyes stayed on you as he took a sip and something about the way he looks at you makes your chest twist — it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. not in daylight. not out here, in the open, where it could be mistaken for something real.

“people are staring at us,” you murmured, gaze dropping.

he doesn’t even glance around them, “let them.”

you tried to deflect, lips tugging into a smirk “what? and ruin your chances with all your girls?”

but he didn’t laugh. he didn’t play along. didn’t take the out this time.

“maybe i only want one girl.”

the breath caught in your throat. your heart stuttered. you looked up at him, eyes searching, desperate to find some hint of irony, some trace of a grin. anything that would let you write it off.

“hmm,” you force out a chuckle, thin and cracked, “you? mr. i don’t go exclusive,” you teased, your voice barely holding steady.

he smiled, but he didn’t deny it. that was when the panic set in.

“i have to go, i still have a class to get to,” and before he could respond, you were already walking away. you didn’t look back. you couldnt.

mark stayed where he was for a while, just watching your figure get smaller and smaller, drink in his hand, feeling the warmth of your body still clinging to his skin. people moved around him in chatter, footsteps on concrete, but it all blurred.

he meant it — he didn’t just let those words slip for no reason. he’d thought about it all night, maybe longer, and when the words came out, they didn’t surprise him. and it didn’t surprise him either how quiet you went, how fast you looked away, how quickly you pivoted back to safe ground, barely entertaining the thought.

you were the girl who didn’t believe in love. he knew that. and you could continue pretending that this was nothing. you could continue to shove it down with a joke, whatever you needed to do to keep him at arm’s length.

but he was done playing along. he wasn’t going to pretend anymore.

he wanted you to have all his mondays, wednesdays and fridays. even the tuesdays and thursdays. and every last goddamn saturdays and sundays. if you’d let him.

⟢

mark’s words echoes in your ears, clear and sharp and impossible to shake as you lay in your bed, wide awake.

you replay the moment in your head, over and over. the way he held you like you were something to hold onto. the way his fingers didn’t let go right away.

the way your heart betrayed you.

you hated how easy it would be to believe him. to want more. to hope. again.

but love had already burned you. already ruined you. it hollowed you out, left you scattered in pieces you barely recognized. you gave and gave until there was nothing left to give and even then, you still tried to be enough. you made yourself smaller, more manageable, easier to love. and you hated it. hated who you became when love took over – clingy, dependent, pathetic, insecure.

the kind of person who lost herself in someone else’s orbit and called it devotion. the kind of person who mistook being needed for being desired. the kind of person who became the version they needed until the real you felt like a distant memory.

it took everything to rebuild yourself from the wreckage love left behind. you had to learn how to be alone again. how to stop apologizing for needing anything at all. you had to teach yourself to exist without someone else’s hands holding you together.

you swore to yourself you’d never be that girl again.

but here you are, heart stuttering at a single sentence from a boy who was never supposed to matter this much. all your careful walls cracking, your breath catching, body already leaning toward him like muscle memory.

and even after all the warning signs going off in your head, every scar whispering don’t, you can’t help but want him.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 23. wednesday.

there was a knock on your door. you didn’t have to look through the peephole to know who it was.

you consider not opening it. pretend you weren’t home. an internal conflict going on between your mind and your heart. one half of you aching for him, the other half gripping onto the remaining boundary you had left.

you sigh, dragging your feet across the door, fingers hesitating on the knob.

“kitten, i know you’re there, the light is on,” mark’s voice announces through the other door. the nickname didn’t feel harmless anymore. it felt like a hand reaching through a door you were trying desperately to seal shut. a reminder of the closeness you’d let happen. the thing you swore wouldn’t need again.

“i brought food,” he added, tone lighter this time. like this could be another normal night of movies and food and silence where feelings should go.

you hated how much you wanted it. hated how you unlocked the door and pulled it open, meeting the brown warm eyes that was so dangerous. he was in one of his hoodies that always looked too comfortable, takeout in his arms with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. or maybe you didn’t want to.

“i thought we could watch spider-man 3, it’s the last tobey one,” he said, raising the food like it was some sort of offering.

you stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in and he walked in like he always did. like he belonged here, in your space. he removed his shoes, placed everything on the coffee table, sat on his side of the couch like everything was normal. like nothing happened. like those words didn’t leave his mouth and had you stuck on him ever since. like he hadn’t said something too big for this setup you had.

and you let him. you followed the script too. you dimmed the lights, grabbed the blanket from the side of the couch and pulled it over both of your legs, hit play on the movie.

for a while, neither of you said a word. until the movie reached a lull and you realized not a single joke has been said between you. you sneak a look at him only to find he was already looking at you.

“why are you looking at me like that?,” you whisper into the night air.

“like what?,” he deflected, smile barely there.

you raise a brow, giving him a pointed look, but your heart is already thudding, “like that,” you murmur.

mark’s smile fades into something quieter. something real. his eyes didn’t leave yours, “maybe i’m just trying to memorize you,” he said softly, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for days. it was quiet and honest. and it wrecked you.

your chest tightened. heat crept up your neck, blooming beneath your skin, but it wasn’t the good kind. it was panic, nostalgia, longing, everything you’d spent years trying to outrun. you blinked fast, trying to swallow the ache, the confusion, the hope. you couldn’t hold his gaze.

then his hand moved, gentle, almost afraid, thumb brushing over your thigh, “does this really have to end after finals?,” he asked. his voice wasn’t playful. there was something almost broken in it. something that wanted more.

you look down at his hand. it’s warm. steady.

you forced your voice into something light, something distant, “what do you mean mark?,” you play dumb, “you can still come over, we can still hang out and watch movies.”

“you know that’s not what i mean, y/n,” his voice cut clean through you. he looked at you like you held the whole world and you hated it. because you’ve seen that look in someone else’s eyes before and you remember how that story ended.

“i want you.” he said. he’s always been upfront, the kind of guy who goes for exactly what he wants. honest. no confusion. he wasn’t going to stop that just because what he wanted now was a little different than usual.

“—not just the movie nights. i want to be able to kiss you without wondering if i’m crossing the line. i want to hold your hand. i don’t want to have to leave.”

you could hear it in his voice, that he meant every word. that he was laying himself bare. your lungs were full of things you’ve never said. fears you never voiced.

“do you want me because you want me,” you whispered, “or because you need me?”

the room went still. mark blinked, caught off guard. his face twisted in confusion. he didn’t understand the question. “what’s the difference?”

you nodded once, slowly, even though he didn’t get it. especially because he didn’t get it. that was all the confirmation you needed. the quiet confirmation of every fear you've been carrying. your thoughts spiraled, fast and breathless – he saw you as the person who kept him from falling apart, not the person who could be loved on her own terms. you didn’t want to be a need. you wanted to be a choice. wanted to be loved for your fire, your flaws, your silence, your mess. all of it.

you pulled the blanket off, stood up, walked toward the kitchen under the disguise of grabbing water but you really just needed the distance, needed to breathe.

behind you, mark didn’t move. the space where you’d just been now empty and echoing. the movie played on, some forgotten scene washing the walls in flickering color, fading into the background. all he could hear was the question that you’d asked. the silence that followed after he said the wrong thing. the way you walked away like you were holding yourself together with a string.

he stood slowly, following you into the kitchen, footsteps soft like he was afraid he’d scare you off if he made too much noise. you were standing there, back to him.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, careful.

when you didn’t respond, he continued, “i don’t need you like a fix,” he stepped closer, gently, slowly. and then, he lets his confessions stumble into the night air. all of the words he’d been dying to tell you.

“i want you like—,” his voice broke slightly, “like i want to wake up with you next to me, i want to know your favorite things, i want your sarcasm, your bad jokes, i want to be the one you call when your day’s gone to shit or when someone tells you a funny story and you just have to share it with someone, i want all the parts you hide. that’s what i meant.”

he was so close now. you closed your eyes and it terrifies you how much you wanted that too.

“i’ve been through this before, mark,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i gave someone everything and he only loved me because he needed me, because it was easy at first. not the real me. not the mess. not the scared, guarded, overthinking, too-much me.”

mark stepped closer until there was barely space between you.

“y/n, i’m not him,” he says, voice full of conviction, “let me prove it. if it takes time, i’ll wait. if you need space, i’ll give it. but please stop acting like none of this is real, stop acting like this was all just tutoring and sex. don’t shut me out because someone else couldn’t handle you. because i can. i want to.”

you stared at the floor. every wall you’d built over the years was trembling in your chest, all of them threatening to collapse and you were desperately trying to keep them together. he was saying everything you’d ever needed someone to say. yet you can’t find it in yourself to believe him.

your fear was louder than your hope.

“i need space,” you breathed. it was all you could manage. your voice almost gave out on the last word.

mark stilled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then he stepped back. just once. and said, gently, “okay.”

he didn’t try to kiss you or hold you or close the space between you with anything physical. and that, more than anything, told you this wasn’t about need.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 25. friday.

the knock came again. you hadn’t expected it, your heart climbing straight into your throat.

you hadn’t spoken since that night. you told him you needed space and to his credit, he gave it. though as soon as he left you wanted him back. you couldn’t even understand your own emotions anymore.

he didn’t call. didn't text and even though it’s only been two days — the silence had been deafening.

your hand hovered near the doorknob again, just like it had before. like you were caught in a loop.

“y/n?,” his voice was softer this time. not playful, not teasing, just quiet and raw, “i…i got my results.”

you closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and the way he was able to shut down all the other voices in your head.

“i haven’t checked it yet,” he added after a beat, “i didn’t want to do it alone.”

something in you cracked and you opened the door. mark stood there, phone in hand, eyes tired and bloodshot like he hadn’t slept well in days. he didn’t step in this time. he just looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. you didn’t say anything. just stepped aside, letting him in. he walked in slowly, like he was afraid he might wake something fragile in the room. you followed him to the couch, sat next to him, close enough to touch but not touching.

he sat with his phone in his palm, screen still black, staring at it.

“just open it,” you said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

he turned to you, eyes searching, “i can’t do it,” he says, handing you the phone “you open it for me.”

you grab it from him, clicking the school’s app and reloading the screen, waiting for the results. the second felt too long, mark’s legs anxiously bouncing, you looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read and his throat catches.

then in one second, your grin grew wider, “you passed!,” you cheered, laughter bubbling from your lips. he hasn’t realized how much he missed that sound until now. the past few days have definitely been an emotional turmoil.

mark blinked, “i..i did?,”

you nodded, laughing again, eyes shining, “you did, mark! look,” you say, shoving the phone in his face.

for a beat, he just stared at you, like he didn’t quite believe it. then it all hit him at once, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally exhaled. relief, pride, disbelief all crashing into his chest in one wave.

and before he could stop himself he pulled you into his lap in a mini victory, both of you laughing, excited, happy. his arms wrapped around you tight, burying his face into your shoulder like this was the only place he ever wanted to be. you hug him just as tight, now straddling him, arms curled around him as you both bask in his victory, your laughter’s harmonizing in the air.

after a few seconds, your body relaxed into his and for the first time in days, it felt easy again, natural. like muscle memory. like this was where you both belonged.

“i knew you could do it,” you murmured near his ear, voice soft. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still holding onto your side like didn’t want to let go yet.

and maybe it was the adrenaline in your system. maybe it was the look on his face. or maybe it was the way his hands lingered on your waist. but you didn’t think.

you leaned in and kissed him.

it was gentle, like asking a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to. he kissed you back with no hesitation, no second guessing. just the feeling of your lips in his, warm and certain.

mark’s hand cup your jaw like you were something breakable and important all at once. there was a slight tremble in his touch, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close. terrified that one wrong move would send you running.

the kiss wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t rushed. it was everything that hadn’t been said, missing each other in a way neither of you had admitted.

your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you steady. your body swayed forward without permission, knowing what it wanted before your mind could catch up. his forehead dropped to yours and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“i missed you,” you whispered, voice shaking. his eyes fluttered shut at the words, something raw flickering across his features. he kissed you again, slow and intentional. like he needed you to feel every unsaid thing he did not know how to say.

the kiss deepened, soft lips parting, breath mingling. his hand moved down, tracing your spine as he pulled you closer and every inch of your body hummed with anticipation. you tugged on his black shirt, tugging it over his head. you helped each other undress with quiet urgency, fingertips brushing skin, lips reconnecting in between.

mark grabs your thighs, gently lifting you up and turning you over to lay you down on the couch. he hovered over you, eyes dragging slowly down the length of your body, memorizing every line, every curve.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your forehead.

your throat tightened.

he trailed kisses over your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder, your breasts. every kiss feeling like a promise. his hands were everywhere, trailing over your waist, the dip of your hip, down your thigh, slow and warm and reverent. he took his time. worshipped every inch like he didn't want to miss a second of this.

he knew exactly where to touch you. knew the spots that ignited that fire in your stomach. he pushes your panties to the side and when his mouth finally found the place between your legs, you gasped, back arching. he groaned at the sound, at the taste of you, gripping your thighs gently, keeping you open for him. he watched your every reaction, paid attention to all of your sinful moans like it was his favorite song. his tongue moved, licking and circling and sucking until you were gasping his name, eyes fluttering shut, legs shaking around his shoulders.

your fingers laced through his, grabbing onto him like he was the last thing keeping you there. and when you came, it hit hard, head thrown back, toes curling. he stayed right there, drawing it out, licking through every wave. he kissed his way back up your body, slow and open mouthed until you pulled him back to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“mark,” you whispered, breathless, “bedroom.”

you didn’t have to say it again. mark grabbed your thighs, picking you up with ease, his bare chest warm against yours, legs wrapped around him, heartbeat thudding in rhythm with your own as he carried you to your bedroom. the air between you is charged and fragile in a way it had never been before. as soon as your back hit the mattress, you pulled him down to meet you. lips meeting again. but it wasn’t like the other times. there was no reckless rush, no frantic need. this kiss was deeper. slower. like he wanted to taste every part of you that had been out of reach until now.

his weight settled over you, grounding, familiar but all too different. he kissed you like he was afraid this might be the last time. touching you like he was memorizing you all over again, not your body, he already knew that – but you.

the way you sighed when his fingers brushed over your hips. the way your breath hitched when his lips settled over that sensitive spot below your ear. the way your hands roamed over his back, curling at the base of his spine like you didn’t know how to keep him close enough.

then suddenly, he stopped. bracing himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to yours, “wait,” he murmured, breathing hard, like it physically hurt to not be touching you.

you blinked, disoriented by the sudden break in heat as he curses under his breath, “i-i didn’t bring a condom…i didn’t expect to–,”

“i-i should have some,” you turned quickly, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand only to find your box of condoms empty.

you looked at him. he looked at you. a beat of silence passing in between you.

his hand found yours, warm brown eyes boring into yours, “we don’t have to.”

“do you want me?,” your voice cracked a little and that’s when you realized your throat was tight, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“of course i do, kitten,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, “but i want you, not just this.”

“i want you, too,” you whisper like you were sharing a secret. his breath hitched. whole body stilling. you saw the moment he gave in, the exact second his restraint cracked.

“i-i’ll pull out,” he mumbled, still trying to be careful.

“i’m on the pill mark,” you said softly, “you can stay inside.” something in him faltered, his breath hitched, eyes darkening. he kissed you again, slower than before, more tentative, like he needed to make sure you meant it.

he lines himself up against your core, giving you one last look for confirmation and when you nod, granting him permission, he finally gave in to what you both wanted. he slid into you slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangling. you felt the tremble in his arms, the shudder that worked through him as he sank fully into you – making you feel full, whole, complete.

you both stilled, letting the moment settle.

you’d done this before. countless times. fast, rough, unspoken. but it had never felt like this. this felt like new territory. this felt like falling.

this wasn’t about sex. this was about every word you’d left unsaid.

your hands roamed up his back, fingernails grazing over the muscles there and his body responded to every touch, arching into you slightly. you could feel every vein on his cock, every twitch, every pulse. he moved slowly, deeper than he had before, watching your face for every flicker of reaction.

mark’s hand came up to brush the hair from your cheek, as he littered kisses from your cheekbones, along your jaw, every inch of skin he could find, “i was made for you” he whispered.

your chest ached, eyes burned. you didn’t know what to do with those words so instead you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. desperate to shut him up. to shut yourself up. to make the ache go away. every movement was slow, sensual, too vulnerable. every inch of your skin between you whispering i missed you, don’t leave again, please feel what i’m feeling.

his hand laced with yours, fingers locking tight, fitting together like two connecting pieces of a puzzle. it was all too much. the way he stayed close, nose brushing your cheek. the way he murmured your name under his breath like it was the only word he knew.

you whispered his name when that coil in your stomach started to tighten, the pressure ready to be released, tension curling through your body. he kissed your temple, your cheekbone, your mouth, over and over again as you came undone beneath him. your legs trembled, breath hitched, back arching as he talked you through it, murmuring praises in your ear.

he followed soon after, body shuddering against yours as he gave in, marking your walls, a grunt of your name spilling from his lips. and even then, he didn’t let go of your hand. he stayed inside you long after, face buried in the curve of your neck, body heavy over yours in the best way. neither of you said anything, just basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

you’ve never felt fuller. the feeling of skin on skin. of a truth too big to name yet.

and when he pulled out, you felt the loss of him like a jolt. your body throbbed, empty and aching. he reached for the tissues on your bedside table, gently wiping away the mess you two made.

you swallowed hard, “mark-”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and open and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. he was just as scared as you. scared that you would push him away again, “please,” he begs, “don’t make me leave.”

“i don’t know how to do this,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t know how to accept this.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word. that one word lingering in both of your tongues.

mark’s face softened, something inside him cracking at your words. he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, “we can figure it out,” he says, “but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight…for tonight let's just…stay here.”

your eyes stung. he wasn’t asking for promises. he wasn’t demanding answers. he was just asking you not to run. not yet. you nodded and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. neither of you said anything after that. he shifted beside you, pulling you into his arms, your body curling naturally into the space against his chest. one of his hands wrapped around your back, the other held your hand like he was scared you would just disappear.

you laid there, wrapped in him, your heart a mess of silence and scars. listening to the beat of his heart. trying to believe this could be real.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered into his skin.

“you already do,” he murmured, raw and honest, brushing his lips to your hair.

“i’m sorry.”

“there’s nothing to be sorry for, kitten. i’d rather be hurt with you than feel nothing without you,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. your eyes fluttered closed at that, too tired to hold everything in your chest. too afraid of what would happen when morning came. but for right now, in this moment, you let yourself stay.

and somewhere between his breathing and the ache in your chest, you fell asleep in his arms, tangled up in a mess of limbs, heartbreak and that word you both can’t say.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 26. saturday.

mark woke up to the soft morning light filtering in through your bedroom window, stretching across the sheets like a quiet whisper. the space beside him cold. his hand reached out before his eyes even opened, instinctively searching for you, but the space was empty, only leaving behind the shape of your figure.

his brows furrowed as he sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his chest. the room felt too still. like the warmth had left with you. he got up, heart tightening as his bare feet hits the floor, pulling on his sweats as he stepped into your living room — empty.

no note. no text. no sound of the shower. just silence. the kind of silence that presses on your ribs and makes everything feel heavier than it should.

mark exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. this wasn’t new – this disappearing act of yours, distant and cold. but it hurt more today. especially after last night. after they way you kissed him like you meant it. the way you held him like you wanted him. the way you made love to him like you loved him.

he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. the victory of passing his finals felt like a faded memory now. and maybe you were just getting breakfast? maybe you were getting coffee? maybe you went out for a quick walk? but deep down, he knew better.

because when someone leaves without saying goodbye, it’s never just about getting coffee – it’s about fear. about retreat. about trying to stuff last night back into that box. a box where it doesn’t fit anymore.

he didn’t know what would happen next but he made you a promise and he’s determined to keep it. even if you never let him this close again. even if this was the last night he’d get to love you the way he wanted to. but he wouldn’t push. he wouldn’t beg. he wouldn’t ask you to feel more than you were ready to. he knew your walls were built from heartbreak and survival and he would never try to tear them down.

but he’ll show up — quietly, steadily, solid where you expected everyone to vanish. he wouldn’t ask for anything in return. not your love, not your certainty, not even your presence. just the chance to exist nearby. just the permission to care.

you didn’t have to earn his love by loving him back.

and if someday you turned around and realized you didn’t want to be alone anymore. he’d be here, welcoming you with open arms.

⟢

you hadn’t meant to leave like that. not really.

you told yourself it was just a short walk. just some air. just to clear your head before the morning got too loud and the reality of your actions settled in too deep.

your lips still felt the ghost of his. your skin still hummed with the way he touched you like he knew you — not just the version you showed him on movie nights and tutoring sessions, but the messy, terrified, too much version you’d spent years trying to hide. he kissed you like he wasn’t afraid of her. and that pushed you further down your fears.

you didn’t know if you were allowed to believe in it. so you left. not to hurt him. never too hurt him. but to protect yourself. protect him from you. to build the distance before you both could fall all the way in.

you couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when you told him he passed — a mixture of excitement and bittersweet emotion clearly on display. the way he hugged you like you were home. and then, god, you kissed him. and for the first time in forever, kissing someone didn’t feel like an escape. you swallowed hard. you were so afraid of these emotions. of needing him.

you went back home when the sun was down, mark nowhere to be seen, except for a note left on your coffee table, written in mark’s handwriting:

“call me if you need me.”

just simple words that made your chest ache.

if. not when.

he wasn’t expecting you to need him. wasn’t asking you to lose yourself again, to shrink, to bleed out the softest parts of you just to keep him. he wasn’t trying to save you or fix you or unravel you for the sake of making you his.

he left you a choice, control fully in your hands. a door, cracked open.

if you need me.

not a condition. not a plea. just kindness wrapped in restraint. not loud or overwhelming. not all-consuming. just patient. just quiet. just there.

ᓚᘏᗢ one week later. may 3. saturday.

you never contacted him. you didn’t know how to face him.

some days, you’d go home to take-out waiting for you by the door, still warm, like he’d just left. there were messages left in your phone. messages that you read over and over again, finger hovering above the keyboard. a reminder that mark was still there. that he still cares.

you just didn’t know what to do with that.

“c’mon y/n, come to the party at the wayv frat tonight,” your best friend, yeri, says through the phone, her voice bright and pleading.

“yeri, i don’t really feel like partying,” you sigh, voice low and dull.

“y/n, you can’t push us away too, we’re your friends,” she says more firmly now.

you told her all about it a couple nights ago, over the fried chicken mark left at your doorstep, the soju in your fridge and a loose tongue that couldn’t keep your pain in any longer.

you spilled everything. what happened with mark, how it started, how it ended and yeri almost killed you with your own pillow. you can still hear her voice now, going through every stage of disbelief like it was a full-blown performance.

she went from, “are you kidding me?! mark lee?!,”followed by a dramatic gasp and a mischievous smirk, “was he good?? was he big?,” then came the pause, wide eyes, jaw dropping surprise “he said he only wanted one girl!!?? THE mark lee?? wanting one girl???,” and then her voice cracked, eyes misting as she whispered, “he wanted to know your favorite things?!?!” like it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.

and then she strangled you with your own pillow when you got to the end of the story.

she was very much #teammark at the moment.

she was tired of your self sabotaging, your walls, your stubbornness — the way you rejected affection like it was poison. the way you flinched from being needed. from being loved. she understood it came from a place in your past. she never dismissed that pain. but she firmly reminded you that you can’t let your past haunt you forever. that the echoes of what hurt you, the ghosts that whisper you’re unlovable or unsafe, should not define the life you’re living now. she gave you an entire pep talk talking about how you can’t keep holding someone with one hand while the other is clinging to everything that once went wrong. and maybe the love in front of you isn’t perfect, maybe it’s messy and complicated and terrifying but it’s here and it’s real and it could be everything only if you let it.

“look,” yeri cuts through your train of thought,, “mina, doyeon, and ningning will be there too, okay, “you’re the only one that's going to be missing.”

you hesitate.

“he probably won’t even be there,” she adds quickly, “the dream frat most likely has their own party going on tonight.”

you don’t believe her. especially since you knew the dream frat was still under observance from that fight jeno threw.

“i don’t know…,” you say.

“c’mon,” she says, softer this time, “it’s the end of finals, we deserve to let loose and have fun,” she tries, one more time.

you exhale slowly, already halfway convinced.

“...fine.” you mutter, earning a bubbly scream from the other side.

⟢

the music is loud the moment you step through the door, laughter spilling down the hallways, the scent of cheap beer and fruity vape lingering in the air. you’re already regretting the black dress hugging your body, the heels, and the fact that you let yeri talk you into this.

“shots first!,” she yells over the music, dragging you toward the room. you spot familiar faces, mina waving from across the room, doyeon chatting up a pretty girl, ningning locked in an intense game of beer pong with a guy in sunglasses — it’s all the usual chaos. familiar. almost comforting.

you let the noise wash over you, grateful for the distraction until yeri stiffens beside you. you know before you even turn. he’s here — mark lee, leaning casually against the wall across the room, red cup in hand. he’s mid-conversation with a boy you knew, xiaojun – music major, member of the wayv fraternity, also a guy you tutored.

he was laughing, looking relaxed until he saw you.

and everything stops.

almost like you were the only two in the room.

his smile falters. eyes lock with yours. like he didn’t expect you to be here. doesn’t know what to do now that you’re both standing in the same room again.

you forget how to breathe for a second.

“y/n…,” yeri starts, but you shake your head, breaking away from his gaze.

“i’m fine.” you’re not.

but that’s what you tell her, forcing a smile, “let’s get those shots,” you manage to say as you and yeri slip into the kitchen. looking for something to drink. preferably something strong.

⟢

he hadn’t planned on staying long. he hasn’t really been in the mood for parties this whole week. it was too loud, too crowded, too many people and none of them were you.

but chenle, haechan and jisung kept dragging him out night after night, insisting he just needed to “get back out there.”

it hasn’t worked — he wasn’t interested in anyone else, no matter how pretty his friends say they were. all he could think about was you.

he sees you in the spiderman figurines he had in his room. he sees you in the half-eaten pizza box that the boys had ordered, where he could practically hear your laugh. he sees you in his notes. in every damn song that plays. in the stray cat that kept curling up on their lawn. the basketball court. the library. every corner he found himself in is a memory of you.

and sex has been different since that night. not after what you’d shared. not after what it felt like to be wanted like that, to want like that. he didn’t even know if he could go back to casual anymore, especially after feeling intimacy that intense.

so yeah, the plan was simple, he was gonna show up for a bit, make his rounds, say hi to his friends then dip. lock himself up in his room. back to waiting for your call.

he didn’t expect to see you but there you were, walking through the crowd.

and he wished he looked a little better. put a little more effort into his outfit. but truth to be told, he didn't think he had anyone to impress. his light stubble has grown in. he was only in a plain white shirt and black jeans. he didn't even bother styling his hair.

one second, he’s laughing at something xiaojun said, the next the breath gets knocked out of him — you walked in like you didn’t want to be there but still looking so effortlessly beautiful. the walls you’ve been hiding behind standing tall all around you.

every instinct tells him to go to you but his feet stay planted, the grip on his cup tightening.

“dude,” xiaojun says, mid-sentence, eyebrows raising, “are you even listening to me?”

mark doesn’t answer, he watches your eyes sweep the room and then land on him.

everything else disappears.

he doesn’t even hear the music anymore. the crowd becomes nothing more than a blur of faceless shapes, none of them worth noticing.

you still have that look in your eyes. that haunted, guarded look he’s seen too many times. the one that says i want to let you in, but i can’t afford to be hurt again.

you break the contact first, of course you do. he can’t help but continue to stare.

“okay,” xiaojun says suddenly, setting down his drink. “that’s it. i’m introducing you.”

mark’s head snaps toward him, “wait, what?”

“don’t know what happened to you, man but you’ve clearly lost your game,” his friend shrugs, already grabbing mark by the sleeve, “i got this. stop being a pussy, i’ll be your wingman.”

mark resists, suddenly very aware of his surroundings, planting his feet, “no…xiaojun, wait, you don’t understand–”

“she’s super chill,” xiaojun interrupts confidently, “smart as hell, kind of terrifying at first glance but definitely nice. i got you, don’t worry.”

“xiaojun…seriously–” mark hisses, digging his heels in, heart pounding in panic now, “we already…we know each other.”

but xiaojun didn’t hear him. too excited. too focused at playing matchmaker and hauling him toward the kitchen. “you can thank me later,” he grins, “just let me cook.”

mark’s stomach sinks. his hands are clammy. he’s seconds away from bolting. and then you turn around, cup in hand, mid-sip, just as xiaojun barrels into the kitchen with mark reluctantly in tow.

“y/n!,” xiaojun calls cheerfully. mark looks like he’s been dragged into hell itself, his eyes sending you an apology and you can’t help the way your brows lift.

“oh my god,” you whisper under your breath, choking on your drink and mark has to physically stop himself from reaching out to check if you are okay. you curse the fact that you let yeri leave you alone just a few seconds ago.

xiaojun beams, “i want you to meet my friend! this is mark. mark this is y/n..she used to tutor me back in the day. super scary, very smart,” you can’t help but raise a brow at his description, “anyway, you two should totally talk,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

mark gives you a look like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. his voice comes out tight, strained, like it hurts to speak, “hey.”

you glance at mark. he glances at you. and somehow, without saying anything, you both decide to play along.

“nice to meet you,” you say coolly, extending a hand like you haven’t seen every inch of him in moments you’re trying very hard to forget.

mark straightens up, his face schooled into a neutral smile. he takes your hand and his touch lingers just a little too long, bringing up feelings you tried so hard to push away, “same here.”

xiaojun beams, totally buying it, “see? told you i got you,” he whispers, making you quip a brow.

mark doesn’t look away from you, “so…you used to tutor xiaojun?”

you nod, keeping your expression composed, “yeah, freshman year. he was failing basic algebra.”

xiaojun gasps in mock offence, “i had a C-”

“which is failing,” you shoot back without missing a beat.

mark chuckles under his breath, eyes crinkling, “sounds like you were a tough tutor.”

“that depends on who i’m tutoring,” you say, like you didn’t spend the past month tutoring him.

xiaojun claps his hands together, clearly pleased with himself, “this is going great. i’m so good at at this. i should charge people.”

“oh yeah,” mark says, playing along, nodding solemnly. “you should definitely monetize your matchmaking business.”

“maybe i will!,” xiaojun grins, painstakingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension thickening between you two, “anyway, i’m gonna go and leave you two alone. you guys get to know each other. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!,” he winks and disappears back into the party.

and just like that, the mask drops. the space between you crackling.

mark raises an eyebrow, “nice to meet you, huh?”

you shrug, “you started it.”

he smirks faintly, “you didn’t have to shake my hand like we were at a networking event.”

“well, you didn’t have to look so charmed by it,” you shoot back and for a second it all feels too normal. just two friends caught in their playful banter.

⟢

ᓚᘏᗢ now.

“it’s good to see you,” he says, a little quieter now, smirk fading just slightly. you falter at that but instead of running, instead of deflecting, you hold his gaze.

“so,” you say, attempting a half-smile, “do you come here often, mark?”

he chuckles but the sound fades quickly. the amusement doesn’t last in his eyes. you were doing it again. masking your feelings behind a joke. trying to find an out. trying to stall the inevitable — and he stopped playing this game a long time ago. has stopped holding back.

“you didn’t call.”

your smile drops, “mark–,”

“that night,” he cuts in softly, but there’s something raw under his voice now, “i woke up and you were gone.”

the kitchen feels smaller. the party noise beyond the door fades to a muffled hum.

“i didn’t know what to say,” you murmur, voice almost lost under the thump of bass in the other room.

“you didn’t have to say anything,” he says, “i just wanted you to stay.”

you look away but mark steps forward. not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him.

“i kept checking my phone,” he goes on, “every morning when i wake up, every night before i go to bed. i watched you read my messages and i thought maybe you just needed time.”

“—i waited,” he continues, voice shaking now, “i left food by your door, i didn’t even care if you didn’t text back, i just wanted you to know i’m still here.”

you press your lips together, holding everything in.

“i didn’t want that night to end,” he goes on, quieter now, “and maybe i was stupid for thinking you felt the same way but–”

he breathes in, eyes locking onto yours. you try to tell him to stop but your voice betrays you. and mark could no longer hold back the words he’s been wanting to say.

“i fell in love with you.”

your heart stutters. that one phrase making you want to run.

“and i’m still in love with you,” he finishes, like a final breath. like he’s cutting himself open and bleeding honesty, the words slamming into your chest.

“we only had two rules, mark,” you managed to whisper, voice quiet and broken.

mark takes a shaky step closer, heart in his throat, “tell me you don’t feel it then,” he said quietly. his voice wasn’t angry, just tired, broken, desperate.

“look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me…that you don’t feel anything when i look at you like this and i’ll stop. i’ll leave you alone.”

you freeze. you didn’t answer right away. because you did feel it — you felt it in your chest, in your stomach, in the way the world always seemed to go a little quieter when he was around. you feel it in the ache that never went away after that night. you feel it in the way he says your name like it’s something holy. but that truth was too dangerous. too real.

so you hardened your voice, you shove it so far down you almost believe the lie yourself.

“i don’t feel it.”

you looked him dead in the eye, even though it nearly broke you. mark’s face falls but you don’t stop there. you lift your chin, meeting his gaze and finally twisting the knife in both of you.

“i don’t love you.”

his face didn’t crumble. didn’t twist in pain. he just stilled – silent, hollow stillness. the words knocking the breath from his lungs in one brutal blow. his eyes search your face like he’s trying to find a hole in your armor – something to tell him you don’t mean it.

you walked away, leaving him in the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd before he can see the way your hand trembles. before he can see the way your heart is breaking too. every step away from him felt heavier than the last. your throat felt like it was strangling your heartbeat. every breath scraped your ribs like regret trying to crawl out of your chest.

you told yourself not to look back. not to care. this is for the better. he deserves someone better. someone who knew what they wanted. someone who can give him the love he has to give without flinching.

you did the right thing. for the both of you.

you ignore your friend’s calls. focused only on trying to get as far away from this place as possible. and yet, as you passed through the living room, something ridiculous stopped you cold — someone was messing with a money gun. dozens of dollar bills floating all around you, spinning through the air like confetti in slow motion. you scoffed before you could stop yourself, bitter and breathless at the irony.

you pushed forward anyway, trying to control your tears, making your way through the bodies and out into the front lawn. you manage to make it a couple feet away.

but then…fingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your wrist, turning you towards his tear-filled eyes as he caught up to you, breathless.

“what are you so afraid of?” mark asked, eyes wide, wild with a mixture of hope and desperation.

“what is it that terrifies you so much you’d rather lie to my face than admit what we have?”

his words cracked something open inside you. that was it. the last of your resolve breaking apart. your defenses collapsed.

“you, mark!,” your voice broke, full of too many emotions you could no longer control, “i’m afraid of you!”

he blinked, startled. you didn’t let the silence catch up.

“i’m afraid of what you make me feel,” you said, voice unraveling.

“i’m afraid because i’m in love with you too. and i don’t want to be!”

the tears came fast and hot but you no longer cared about the strong front you’ve been trying to keep up.

“—because the last time i fell in love, it destroyed me. i gave everything to someone who promised they’d stay and they left. and i had to build myself back up from nothing and i swore i’d never let myself feel like that again.”

mark took a slow step closer. like he was approaching something sacred.

“i don’t want to become her again,” you choked out, “the girl who wakes up wondering if today is the day everything falls apart. the one who clings too tightly. the one who ruins everything because she wants too much.”

“you’re not her anymore,” he said softly, like he was holding your heart in his hands., “you’re stronger now. you know who you are. and if things fall apart,” his voice cracked, his own tears falling, “i’ll still be there, i’m not going to leave you.”

you shook your head, tears falling freely, “you don't know that! what if i mess it up? what if i’m too much?”

“then i’ll stay anyway,” he said, voice trembling with conviction, “i’ll stay and remind you every single time that you're not too much. that you’re worth loving.”

you looked up at him, ready to break again but his words make you freeze, “and i’m scared too.”

mark swallowed hard.

“i’ve never been in love before,” he said. “not like this. not even close and i don’t know what i’m doing. i’m scared i’ll say the wrong thing. that i’ll mess this up. that i’ll love you too much or not enough or in the wrong way”

he let out a shaky breath, gaze locked on yours.

“but i’m willing to learn. i'm willing to fall. because i'm scared of losing you the most and i’d rather be scared with you than go my whole life without you in it…without trying.”

his eyes bored into yours, wide and unguarded, filled with that same fear you’d been carrying. you realized then that you weren't so different. just two souls wanting to love and be loved, both terrified of what it might cost.

and if he was brave enough to jump, you weren’t going to let him fall alone — with that, the last wall inside you crumbled and you reached for him.

mark pulls you into his arms like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. there, under the stars and distant music, you clung to him, allowing yourself to want him. your chest heaved against his, tears soaking into his t-shirt. and still, he held you tighter.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “i’m just…i’m so scared.”

“i know,” he murmured back, “it’s okay. i’m here.”

he rocked you gently like your pain had a rhythm only he understood. he didn’t know what else to do but hold you.

eventually your tears slowed. your breathing evened out. your fingers loosened from their desperate grip. you stayed in his arms a moment longer, heart pressed into his chest. committing it to memory like it was a song you never wanted to forget.

then you pull back, just enough to look up at him. your lashes were damp, eyes still glassy, “i meant it,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i love you.”

his eyes searched yours, not for doubt, but for the truth. and when he found it, unguarded, soft, scared, real, his hold on your waist tightens just a tiny bit like he couldn’t believe this was real and not something he’d dreamed up in all the nights he spent missing you.

mark leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you don’t. his lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, then deeper, steadier, like exhaling after holding his breath for years. you kissed him back like it was the only thing you knew how to do — your heart had spent so long trying to run away from this very feeling and now it was collapsing into it with both arms wide open.

no more running. just you and him and the promise of something real. not something that had an expiration date marked by final exams and end of sessions.

he smiled against your lips. you pulled away, the smallest, tearful laugh catching in your throat.

“so…what do we do now?,” you asked, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, though your voice was still soft. still fragile from everything it had admitted. and your eyes only had room for his reflection.

mark raised a hand, thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek, “well,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “i would love to take you out on a date.”

and this time, when you smiled…it felt like the beginning.

ᓚᘏᗢ the next day.

mark knocks at your door at exactly 6:00P.M. a little more dressed up than usual, his face freshly shaved, hair styled perfectly, a bouquet of white roses behind his back.

you open the door and his breath catches. the red dress you're wearing stops just above your knees, hugging your curves in all the right places. its bold and subtle all at once, elegant neckline, bare shoulders.

you see the shift in his expression instantly, eyes widening, lips parting slightly.

“kitten,” he breathes out, recovering just enough to let a smirk tug on his lips “are you trying to cancel our date?”

your brows furrow in amusement, “what?”

he lets out a soft laugh, eyes still tracing the length of you. “how do you expect me to not want to have my hands all over you until this is off?” he says, a hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently against him, already losing his inner battle.

a playful smirk appears on your lips, “hey, buy a girl dinner first,” you say, pressing your palm to his chest to push him back, just a little.

he chuckles, deep and warm, eyes twinkling as he finally brings the bouquet around “for you, kitten.”

you take the flowers with a soft, surprised smile “these are beautiful mark, thank you,” you say quietly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, just a quick one, before slipping back into your apartment. he stays at the door, watching as you make yourself into the kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. you rummage through your drawers for the vase you rarely use, dusting it off before filling it with water. carefully, you begin arranging the flowers on your coffee table. mark steps inside, closing the door behind him. his arms wrapping around your waist in a back hug.

“you ready?,” he murmurs, a kiss brushing the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

“mhm,” you smile, reaching down to pat his hand before lacing your fingers with his. his grip is warm, sure. he leads you to the door, locking it behind you as you both step out of your apartment.

“this is kinda weird,” he chuckles as you walk towards his car.

“what? holding my hand,” you say, about to pull your hand away only for his grip to tighten.

“i didn’t say it was bad,” he says quickly, pulling you closer, “i’ve just never held hands with my girlfriend before.”

you chuckle, some things never change.

“oh, i didn’t know i was your girlfriend now?,” you smirk, teasing, a brow raising.

his smile instantly drops, “please say sike,” he mutters, suddenly serious. you burst into laughter and the tension in his shoulder melts. he watches you in awe, like your laugh could break every bone in his body and he’d still ask to hear it again. a smile taking over his features.

“sike,” you say sweetly just as he pokes your side, making you jump. he opens the passenger door for you with a smug look and you slide inside, cheeks warm, heart racing.

mark planned the most romantic, classic first date imaginable. like something ripped right out of a movie montage. candlelight dinner, soft jazz humming in the background and a corner table in a quiet, upscale restaurant where the lighting was dim and golden, casting everything in a dreamy glow. the flicker of the candle between you danced in his eyes, making him look warmer, softer than usual. the low murmur of other diners fading into the background. he pulled out your chair for you like a real gentleman. you ordered your food, sat across from each other, feet brushing beneath the table, half accidental, half deliberated. it was playful and sweet. he smiled every time it happened like he was trying to make you blush without saying a word. and it worked — you couldn’t remember the last time a date felt this intentional, this thoughtfully put together. like someone had wanted to impress you.

“wow, you really did your research, huh?,” you tease him, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk tugging at your lips.

“only the best for my girl,” he winks. you rolled your eyes at the line but the flutter in your chest betrayed you.

the food arrived and for a while you just existed in the moment. complimenting the dishes, laughing about how his plate looked fancier but yours tasted better. he slid a perfectly sliced piece of steak onto your plate without you asking and you absentmindedly twirled a forkful of pasta and held it out to him like it was second nature. like it was something you’ve been doing for years.

then halfway through the meal, mark leans in a little. his elbow resting on the table, chin in hand like he couldn’t help but watch you.

“i don’t know enough about you,” he says suddenly.

you looked up, caught mid-chew and more caught off-guard, “you’ve literally seen me naked, i think you’re doing fine.”

mark laughed — that warm, boyish sound that always cracked you open a little more than you liked to admit. he leaned back slightly, shaking his head, “yeah but i mean know you. like the little things. the stuff people forget to ask but matters more than they think.”

you blinked, slowly setting your fork down, “ok…what do you want to know?”

he lights up like a kid on christmas day, “what’s your favorite color?”

“really, mark?” you laughed, because of all the things he could’ve asked, it was a question as simple as that.

“hey! it’s important especially since i want to buy you gifts,” he shrugs, taking a bite out of his (your) pasta.

you rolled your eyes, smiling anyway “okay. pink.”

mark blinked, surprised. he never would’ve guessed. “pink?”

“mhm,” you said, spearing a bite of the salad in between you, “not like neon pink though but soft pink.”

“didn’t see that coming,” he said grinning. “but it kinda fits…you act all tough but you’re secretly a softie.”

you narrowed your eyes, “careful.”

“just saying,” he chuckled, reaching for his drink.

“alright,” you said, pointing your fork at him, “your turn, favorite color?”

“blue.”

you tilted your head, chewing thoughtfully, a playful grin on your face, “blue because it’s the color of the sky?”

he grinned, “that was the reason…at first,” he said, voice softening, “then you walked up to me, wearing a soft blue sundress during freshman year and the reason changed.”

your fork froze halfway to your mouth. for a second, the air felt heavier, quieter, like the words had rearranged the molecules around you. your eyes widen a little, lips parting as your expression falters between surprise and amusement.

“you remembered what i was wearing?,” you ask in pure disbelief.

“how could i forget?,” he shrugs like he didn’t just confess something that would stay with you for the rest of your life.

“wait…are you saying you’ve had a crush on me since freshman year?,” you asked, your tone teasing.

mark rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning, “i may have had a tiny crush on you back then,” he admits. the smile on your face growing with every second.

the rest of your evening unfolded like a dream you didn’t want to wake from. full of quiet laughter, sharing of favorites and the reason behind them. every answer was like turning a page, revealing another layer neither of you had taken time to read before. between conversation, his hand would find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there. he’d brush your knuckles with his thumb, every movement gentle, deliberate. and every now and then, he’d lean over and kiss you. soft, unhurried kisses that made your skin hum and your stomach flip.

by the time you slid back into his car, the air between you was warm and charged, not with tension but with something more open, more vulnerable. he let you have the aux, learning your favorite songs on the ride back. both of you singing along, sometimes out of tune, sometimes laughing too hard. his hand was in yours the whole drive home. you kissed at stop lights. playful pecks that turned into lingering moments. the city moved around you, but you both felt disconnected. stuck in your own world with a population of two.

when he finally pulled up to your place, you were still laughing about something stupid he’d said. and then it got quiet. the kind of the quiet that meant something more. mark walked you to your door, hand still wrapped around yours like he couldn’t let go.

“tonight was really fun,” you said softly , your arm looped around his neck, fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair.

“yeah?,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, lingering there for a beat, “would you say i’m you know…boyfriend material?,” he teased, smirking against your skin.

you huffed a laugh, playfully nudging him with your shoulder, “that was so bad.”

he tilts his head to look at your properly, the mischief fading into something gentler, more sincere, “i had the best time.”

you met his gaze, leaning up to kiss him – slow and sweet. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss for a heartbeat before you pulled back, breathless but smiling.

“goodnight, mark,” you whispered, not quite ready for the night to end.

“goodnight kitten,” he said just as softly.

you slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. but your skin still buzzed with his touch, lips still tingling with the memory of his kiss. you leaned against the door, eyes closed, heart racing as the entire night replays in your mind.

outside, mark stares at your door, already missing your presence. he started to bring his fist up for a knock, but then the door opened. again.

he blinked, startled.

you were standing there, eyes already locked on his. you didn’t say a word. neither did he.

because in the next second, he crossed the threshold and kissed you – hard, fast and real. all the restraint of the evening gave way to need. he kicked the door shut behind him, hand blindly finding the lock as his other arm wound around your waist.

you make the familiar steps to your bedroom, lips never leaving his, a quiet gasp escaping you when he lifted you slightly, walking you backward until your knees hit the bed.

and when you made love, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. it was slow, tender. his hands memorized you all over again. his lips marked every inch of your skin. you whispered his name like it meant something new now. he held you like he never wanted to stop.

the morning came and you were still there, wrapped tightly around his arms. body molded perfectly against his like you were always meant to fit there. fingers interlaced like your hands had made a silent promise sometime in the night to never part. mark could see the pink and purple marks blooming where his lips and hands had wandered. he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest — you looked peaceful, like all the weight you usually carried had melted away in the dark, if only for a little while. and in that quiet moment, with the world still hushed around you, he knows that it’s all worth it.

and if he had to do it all over again – the mistakes, the heartache, the waiting. he would. every single time, without hesitation, if it always leads him back to this. back to you. the only thing he’s ever been sure of.

ᓚᘏᗢ

loving mark made you realize that love didn’t have to be a fantasy. it wasn’t all sunshines and rainbows and happily ever afters. but it also wasn’t terrible, screaming at each other at 3am, being left behind on the kitchen floor, crying your eyes out.

it didn’t happen overnight either. there was still fear lingering in the back of your head. but this time you don’t let it take control. this time you don’t let it overpower.

because love with mark is staying, even when you were scared. especially when you were scared. it was comfort and safety. the kind that wrapped around your heart and told you it was okay to let your guard down. it was peace. the kind that didn’t demand you to be anything other than what you were. it was someone showing up at your apartment with your favorite snacks, settling in beside you on the couch while a romcom played and cramps left you curled under a blanket. no pressure to talk. just presence. it’s laughing at terrible jokes until your stomach hurt. arguing about which spiderman was the best. agreeing to disagree, even if you were clearly right. it was fighting over which greasy takeout to get and pretending to be annoyed when he ordered your favorite anyway. it was celebrating the happy moments, the sad moments and everything in between. it’s sticking around when things got hard. still choosing each other when the weight of the world made everything feel heavy. it was learning each other and unlearning old patterns. being patient. building something new, one honest conversation at a time. it was asking, “do you want advice or do you just want me to listen?” it was hearing the answer and respecting it.

it wasn’t about fixing each other or needing someone to fill a space inside you. it was about wanting to be there. it was about choosing to stay again and again and again.

𓏲 the end.

-

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

bonus: mark x kitten coded -> video one, video two, video three

-

an: and 3/7 is done! i hit the 1000 text block limit thing on here and it was awful. it’s not my fault they’re both yappers and i write way too much when mark is involved! i hope i was still able to convey the tension and longing in those long ass paragraphs >.< …. anyways, this was supposed to end the moment she walked away but i couldn’t do it! i had to give mark a happy ending, he deserves it!. kitten was so hard to write like why am i writing a character with past trauma and real, raw, emotions that are hitting too close to home… this is supposed to be a fun, silly rom-com. but i hope you liked her! i hope you liked them. thank you for reading! <3

VOTE HERE FOR THE NEXT STORY

likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated ⏦ﾟ♡︎

love tags : @bluedbliss @yesohhsehun @tynlvr @sunghoonsgfreal @2sungie @euphormiia @ptv-hades @imnotrosiee @remgeolli

[bruhstories]

Bet V

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.4 here

mandatory mdni. you were not tagged in this because you are not over 18.

summary: in his attempt to break you, in-ho breaks himself pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, veeeery slow burn, reader’s dad is dead w/c: 2k

a/n: this is my half-assed attempt at writing a game lol. if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can’t find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

Neolttwigi had been another success. The seesaw game eliminated 91 people, and with 97 remaining players, In-ho proceeded with tuho. He paid close attention to the masked soldiers who directed the survivors to the same place where they had previously played Red Light, Green Light, only the floor was divided by a bright blue line in the middle. The ceiling was open, letting players experience natural light for a second time in a row.

The game was awfully simple —  throwing arrows into the neck of a jar. In-ho remembered reading about that game in school, how it was played by royal families and the upper class before becoming a game for everyone, and the jar had a narrow neck, making it easy to miss the mark. He had rarely played it as a child, preferring juldarigi or squid, games he taught his younger brother.

It became a habit for him to check the cameras in his penthouse whenever you were there. It brought him a strange peace of mind knowing that Eunjoo was safe in your hands, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop looking at the selfie you sent the day before. In-ho knew that walking into a lamppost was bullshit, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him the truth. He needed you to trust him, to tell him willingly. 

Still, he examined the picture —  your cheek in particular — and concluded that you lied to him. In-ho took it as a triumph. He didn't win the bet just yet, there was still time for you to mess up, but the fact that you chose to not tell the truth only solidified his belief that you were the same as everyone else. In four days he would return to Seoul and win. The prize? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps just the satisfaction that he was above you.

Players entered the field, and the voice in the speaker instructed them to split into teams of two in less than thirty minutes, which was unfair to player 002, since there was an odd number of people. 002 was taken away by a guard, and the remaining 96 players grouped into pairs. While the objective was indeed simple — throw the arrows in the jar — it came with a twist. It always did. Each player was given four arrows, but one of them was blindfolded and threw the arrows while their teammate picked the jar up and tried to catch the arrow in it. Once all four arrows were thrown, the teammates switched places. If at least six out of eight arrows hit the mark, both players passed, but if one player threw four arrows and the other only two, they both died. 

The game took out fewer people than In-ho had hoped — 19 to be precise. Player 002 was alive and well, and the remaining 77 survivors returned to their chamber, where more and more beds had been removed, exposing the remaining three games on the walls — Hide and Seek, Yutnori and Ssireum. He remembered his time as a player, how he was the only one who paid attention to his surroundings and anticipated the following games. In-ho used all of his skills and knowledge as a detective and emerged as the sole survivor and winner. Did it bring his wife back? No, but it did make him feel so good when proved he earned his right to live.

Players were receiving less and less food, and from the comfort and safety of the control room, In-ho watched them slowly lose all traces of their humanity. He wondered how you would've performed in the games. Participants would have abused your kindness, and your good intentions would've gotten you killed. To make it worse, he was certain you would've sacrificed yourself to save someone else, someone you deemed worthy of winning. But in his eyes, only you deserved to live.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and In-ho took it out to read the text from you. He knew it had to be you. Who else would text him at that time?

Hellooo, I took a look in the fridge and noticed the eggs and milk will go bad before you come back. I was wondering if I could give it to someone who needs it.

Damn it, you did it again. In-ho couldn't be sure that you actually gave the food to someone else — he had to take your word for it for now.

Of course. May I ask who you're giving it to?

Remember the family I told you about? The one I teach Korean to? The wife is pregnant and can't work. I think she's due to give birth soon, actually, and they could use all the help. Besides, it would be a shame to throw away perfectly good food :)

Don't you want it, miss? When we first met, you told me you didn't have a good financial situation.

Oh, no, no. I'll be fine. They need it more.

Very well, please give it to them.

Ah, I also remembered you left some money on your nightstand. With all due respect, Mr. Hwang, that's very irresponsible. Anyone could take it.

Were you lecturing him? Him? Cute. In-ho even chuckled at your reprimand, finding it adorably amusing. If only you knew the things he did, the people he killed. How would you react? That question was beginning to take over his mind like a maggot wriggling inside of his brain. Would you be disgusted? Would you go to the police? Would you agree with his ways of cleaning the world of its impurities? It was no different than how you cleaned his penthouse — you both got rid of trash.

You're right, miss. There is a safe hidden in my wardrobe. Please put the money there. The code is 1321.

Surely you would crack at the sight of so much money and try to take some. No one sane would miss such an opportunity. But then again, maybe you weren't sane. Maybe you just needed a little push, a little encouragement. In-ho poured himself a glass of whisky and thought about the wound on your cheek, and the night you were crying on his kitchen floor. Someone had hurt you, and he needed to find out who so he could exploit that. And then, you would break. 

He was, however, slightly conflicted, because he didn’t want to ruin you. In-ho merely wanted to make you see things eye to eye. Just like him, life had been unfair to you. And just like him, you needed to survive. Kindness wouldn't take you very far — you had to witness the cruelty of the world somehow, and the only possible way to do that was to play the game and survive it, something In-ho knew you would never do due to your values and morals. And he couldn't wait one more year to push you past your limits. He needed to think of something else, and he needed to do it fast — time was ticking and you were a project he refused to let slip through his fingers.

In-ho checked the cameras at the time you normally arrived at the penthouse, patiently waiting for you. He was pleased to see that you were in a better mood, cheerfully greeting Eunjoo as you went about with your tasks, but something was different. You appeared to be texting someone, and he never received any notifications on his phone, yet you were quite busy chatting back and forth. His stomach churned, an amalgamation of feelings bubbling and boiling in his core. Anxiety? Anger? Jealousy? 

Jealousy.

You always sent him a text upon your arrival. You always let him know that you were there, so who occupied your mind if not him? The sudden lack of the very little control he had over you made him trip in his room and lose balance, and he forcefully ripped the mask off and tossed it on the floor. 

In-ho was losing the bet he made with himself, and not in the way he had imagined.

It wasn't him who lived in your mind, but you who invaded his, and it infuriated him, because after his wife died, he refused to get attached, refused to fall in love. Luckily for him, it wasn't love that he felt for you, but an unhealthy obsession to watch you, to know your every move, to find out who hurt you and make you hurt them back. 

You performed your tasks with utmost perfection, and placed the money in his safe while ignoring the riches inside it, but you were distracted, constantly looking at your phone and half-smiling whenever it lit up. In-ho couldn't have that. 

How's Eunjoo?

Since you were so busy talking to someone, he expected you to frown at his text, to scoff and ignore it. But you did worse. You stopped folding his clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, beaming at the message on the screen.

She's alright! We had dinner and a cuddle, and now she's playing next to me. I'll send you a picture!

In-ho watched you struggle to take a photo of the cat — each time you took out your phone, Eunjoo stopped playing, so you swapped to the front camera, trying to sneak a picture. You even smoothed your hair and made yourself look presentable, and he found it quite adorable that you tried to look presentable for him.

I'm sorry you have to see my face, but she wouldn't sit still for a photo!

You were stunning. It was all In-ho could think about when he opened the photo. Your bright eyes were like a drug to him, instantly hooking him, forcing him to regain a shred of humanity.

Don't apologise, miss. You're beautiful.

There it was, the crack he so desperately sought for. You were practically hyperventilating in his bedroom, struggling to breathe, constantly rereading the words on your phone. And then he heard you talk to Eunjoo, heard you question your own sanity. But no, In-ho didn't like you. He was simply interested in breaking you, oblivious to how you were breaking him.

"Damn it. I promised Donghyun I'd go for a coffee after work tomorrow. I'm so confused now." Your distorted voice crackled through his speaker, and In-ho clenched his jaw, barely stopping himself from breaking his phone.

Who the fuck was Donghyun? And more importantly, why did he care? 

He didn't care, or at least that was what he told himself for the past few days. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about you. He didn't-

The familiar words of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon stopped him dead in his tracks. In-ho turned the volume up, still in disbelief that you knew the song, that you sung it in his bedroom like no one was watching you. It was impossible how similar you were to him, to how he was before life took a turn. But a song and a kind heart weren't enough to change him. It was far too late for that. The only possible outcome was for you to become like him, and he wouldn't accept anything else.

For the first time, In-ho didn't offer you privacy when you stepped into his bathroom. For the first time, he watched as you peeled off each layer of clothing, and for the first time, he saw every scar and scratch, every burn and bruise on your body, new and old, and he understood. You had already faced the realities of this cruel world, and you chose not to become vengeful. Your father died, your uncle abused you, and yet, you shined.

The unforeseen urge to protect you seeped through his veins, but not before you got your revenge. You deserved to get revenge more than anyone in the world. And if you didn't want that, he'd make you want it one way or another.

"Fuck." In-ho whispered when his cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of your bare body. So vulnerable. So weak. So perfect. 

He sat down, phone in one hand and his eyes only on you. It was pure instinct when he fisted his cock, pure instinct when your name spilled from his lips, pure instinct when he imagined you under him, wriggling and writhing, pure instinct when he came on his fingers, disgusted with himself.

Pure instinct. Nothing more.

tagging: @ri1liane  @anmert1  @syraxnyra  @frshluvcats  @lanyia  @mettreads  @nightdark-dreamdark  @bridge-always  @lovekm  @audrey223  @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry  @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear  @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesblog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @warlabels @xcinnamonmalfoyx @rickgrimesismydaddy1 @jasonpetertoddismygod @marihoneywk @llghtsnoww @torkorpse @salivasupplier @okqur @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @certifiedlevisimp @kiss-themoongoodbye @bluehourss @alexa554 @sinful-tawtute @ithoughtthinks @nacatna-blog @riri53 @alexisabirdie @houta-habtet-houta

[sgiandubh]

And four...

I thought we were done with the Dublin Sanctuary Runners' event, but one of my eagle-eyed friends spotted something new, in the comments' thread of one of the Facebook posts recording last Saturday's Poolbeg Parkrun. Clearly a pic to mark the end of the run, near the finish line:

[Source: https://www.facebook.com/poolbegparkrun/posts/pfbid0gxxUtbUc3x1RaZCCEEa4YXzUFFBJVywnnP72PgjA2kU5TRQbhKNHVT1qSjv31Qhcl?cft[0]=AZVarr1v32bHaIuI2RYUEo35KXyM8iINCR-p4hVBzXxCQtBY5P50PHj4O41lA9ElWi57imayHShxcPVmjZmQkBJ7nq0k8Ocs9njKIaCXU34CGlvV1Wb7M2ath1-9ohXUu1WOHGmpUm1KF3rLgOT4fUHDBaatnu5P1Olp4jMTucM0LljSdQt4eVLMOHjEtixHZkw&tn=%2CO%2CP-R-R]

This is a pic taken probably seconds after the one we talked about yesterday, but from the opposite side of the lawn/group:

Wee close-up: red arrow is C, blue arrow is her sister, green arrow is Mama B. and the two black arrows are the nice couple:

Who took the pic? Clearly the person commenting on Facebook, and we can even see her mirrored in the pic I posted yesterday, and I am reposting below. It is Mrs. McCarthy, the lady in red, judging from the angle of the picture she took, above (I could be wrong, however, so kindly correct me, if so). Here she is - blue arrow and typical picture taking posture, too:

Why is this important?

Because Mrs. McCarthy had a precise task to do, that day. She was one of the 21 volunteers involved in that event, perhaps even responsible for recuperating the finish tokens...

[Source: https://www.parkrun.ie/poolbeg/results/306/]

... as she seems to do on the regular - see the next volunteer rosters, here:

[Source: https://www.parkrun.ie/poolbeg/futureroster/]

Now, this is a very well organized volunteer team, with clear tasks and responsibilities:

[Source: https://www.parkrun.ie/poolbeg/volunteer/]

Given the nature of their particular task, the Finish Token volunteer is never alone on the job:

[Source: https://support.parkrun.com/hc/en-us/articles/20047334957842-3-2-Volunteer-Roles]

Therefore, the person with sunglasses was nothing else but another volunteer, either the/one of the Timekeeper(s) or the Finish Token support, as per the event's own rules. Why didn't they wear their volunteer vests? They don't needed them anymore - the run was over.

Needless to say, McGill was not listed as a volunteer for that event - not last week-end, nor ever.

And with this, I think I am officially done with the topic and can resume my silent time. But always happy to drive that boomerang back home, so to speak.

PS: Mulțumesc din inimă, scumpo.

[w1th3rdros3s]

Got bored so Aidlynor headcannons. Yippie!

Some of these are current, some are in the future ;)

Aiden centric:

Despite being the heart throb and overly flirty, Aiden is strictly Asexual, but that was a difficult subject to bring up to his girlfriends. Aiden was scared they would break up with him if he told them, so he did the most Aiden thing he could, he wrote and posted two handwritten apologies to each of them.

The two girls took it well, promising they wouldn't dislike him because he was asexual, they're underage, even so, they could go off without him and snuggle with him more. He liked that.

The girls love spring because on sunny days with a cool breezes, Aiden stops smiling, well stops pretending to smile, instead his face is blank and actually at peace. Aiden would spend all day sitting in the grass looking at flowers, not feeling the burden of putting on a mask for once.

Some days Aiden will make each of them matching flower crowns.

Speaking of flowers, Aiden's favourite is snapdragon.

Aiden likes sleeping on top of people, specifically Taylor and Ashlyn, he's surprisingly light and pointy, but they don't mind. And if he's alone he always sleeps in the fetal position, Ashlyn and Taylor have stopped letting him sleep alone.

Ashlyn and Taylor often have to remind Aiden to take his contacts out before bed. Aiden always takes them out in the bathroom and immediately puts on an eye mask and stumbles his way to bed, not letting them see his eyes.

Aiden only allows Taylor to be the one person besides himself that's allowed to dye his roots.

Aiden sleepwalks like crazy, one time Ashlyn and Taylor found him crouching on the stove, holding a medieval battleaxe, the two had no clue where he got it until the next morning when they saw on the news that a local museum had been robbed.

Aiden is weirdly obsessed with Hawkeye, going as far to try to learn archery, try, leading to Ashlyn scolding him whilst Taylor called Ben to help get the arrow out his forearm.

Taylor centric:

Taylor hates rain, to an unbearable amount, all she'll do is sulk and sleep all day until it stops. She also hates being wet, Aiden learnt that the hard way after hosing her down for a prank, Ashlyn had to be the one to get him out the sewer.

Taylor loves kissing Ashlyn, she lives how she blushes, often teaming up with Aiden, kissing one cheek each at the same time, giggling as Ashlyn turns scarlet.

As much as Taylor loves kissing Ashlyn, she lives being kissed by Aiden, likes how it makes him happy, likes how he blushes before and after, a sort of 'am I allowed to' and 'was it good' that Taylor adores.

Taylor makes sure that all three of them have at least one baby picture on the fridge, all of Ashley's two attempts have been thwarted and so have Aiden's two thousand and eighteen attempts.

Taylor takes a Polaroid every time they get flower crowns from Aiden, no matter how much Ashlyn objects.

Speaking of flowers, Taylor's favourite is peony.

Taylor is very geologically challenged, in fact, if weren't for Ashlyn, Taylor and Aiden would have been lost ten times over, but they love her for it.

When the school threatened to close the mechanic's club Ashlyn threatened the principal with the killies. When that didn't work, Aiden endorsed the entire mechanics club. Taylor continues to live in both fear and adoration of her lovers powers.

Taylor often feels like she's less than the other two, not rich, not smart, not talented, and when she lets these insecurities show is the only time Ashlyn will let Aiden ramble for hours, because he will ramble about everything good, everything pure, everything they love about Taylor Hernàndez.

Taylor sleeps in the middle, not by left to right, no, of course not, Taylor sleeps underneath Aiden and on top of Ashlyn, making an Aidlynor sandwich.

Ashlyn centric:

Ashlyn hates cooking, but won't let her two morons do it, she'd rather suffer twenty minutes of cooking instead of eating a black egg, she loves them, but god they are awful cooks.

Ashlyn is often a quiet person, but only in one circumstance does she ever get loud and that's when both Aiden and Taylor are being quiet, it feels wrong to her and she needs something to fill the noise. It also acts as a system to remind them to be loud for her.

Ashlyn likes wearing less In front of Aiden and Taylor, not for any sexual reason, after all Aiden is strictly Asexual, but because it goes against who she is as someone who wears a lot to hide and when she is wearing less, they don't stop praising her body. Her being revealing acts as a way to let them know she needs affection, even if it's in a strange way, but it's just as awkward as Ashlyn, and they love it.

The first time Ashlyn smiled was when Aiden had gotten her custom earbuds for Christmas, and I mean custom in the sense it had three earbuds, one red, one green and one blue, the red playing slightly louder, the blue playing normal and the green playing quiet so they could all listen together.

Ashlyn will never admit it but she likes having her girlfriend and boyfriend sleeping on top of her.

Ashlyn always objects to getting kisses but always gives them kisses, 'the hypocrisy!' is well known to her but Aiden's rebukes do not deter her.

Ashlyn keeps Polaroids of her lovers under her pillow, thinking they don't know (they do).

When Aiden or Taylor are uncomfortable with something in the relationship Ashlyn has to physically make them sit down and talk. But now it's backfired as they've started doing the same for her.

Ashlyn gets most of the garden, using it as a place to grow fruit, veg and flowers while Taylor and Aiden have a corner for their swing seat.

Speaking of flowers, Ashlyn's favourite is lotus.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

DriftWood Masterlist

Series Summary: After finding you in an abandoned town 10 miles down the road from the house Sevati, Felix, Marshall, Woods, Case and Adler are staying in, she hides you away, not knowing how the rest of the team would react. However, as tensions grow higher and missions become increasingly dangerous, you can’t stay hidden forever.

Characters: Sevati Dumas, Felix Neumann, Frank Woods, Russel Adler, Troy Marshall, William “Case”Calderon, David Mason, Alex Mason, more to come… (all platonic relationships)

System:

DriftWood is a “choose your own adventure” style writing, where you will be shown images of in-game locations and be given options to choose. Choosing these options can lead to different “endings” or interactions with different characters.

Different icons next to choices mean different things.

Example—>

The arrow icon means that by choosing this option you are moving ahead to the next “main chapter” and skipping all other options. If you do this, I advise sticking with your decision in order to lessen confusion.

Example

No icon means that this is simply a choice to branch off of, it is not going ahead to the main story. This can lead to deaths (endings), consequences, achievements, gaining something in your inventory, etc.

Example: {ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED:_____}

Certain actions will make you unlock “achievements” which is what makes each ending different. The more achievements you can/do unlock, some choices will require certain achievements to access in order for the story to make sense. The achievements required will be listed for future choices.

If you have already made a choice, then to prevent confusion I advise not going back and getting an achievement just because you want to.

Inventory System:

Throughout the game, certain choices may give you certain things, or you may choose to collect things throughout the story. Your “inventory” doesn’t have any limits and you can carry whatever you want, but there can be consequences for being caught with some items. Be mindful of what you have.

More may be added to the list as the story progresses.

If you see something that looks interactable, or you want a closeup picture of it or maybe have it added into the story, just shoot me an ask or DM me and I’ll probably add it if it isn’t too difficult. (This goes for concepts as well, if something doesn’t take up a huge amount of time, I might add it in for fun like spin-offs, etc)

There will be BO6 Campaign spoilers eventually, as the story begins from Sevati’s perspective of the beginning of the “Hunting Season” mission. Everything I make into my story might not be perfectly canon, but I’ll try to stick to it.

However, you do not have to play the games to understand. All lore will be explained in the story, as the reader starts of from a perspective of not knowing anything. You can read this even if you just interact with the fandom, it should mostly make sense.

Most importantly have fun!! I’m just experimenting with this because I think it would be fun to make, be sure to give me feedback if you want<3

Masterlist

Main Chapter 1: Hidden

Branch: Investigate your Surroundings

Branch: Listen to the Tape

Branch: Go through the door on your left

Branch: Read the folder

Branch: Read the paper on the clipboard.

Branch: Take the wrench

Branch: Fix the Boiler

Branch: Option A

Branch: Option B

Branch: Option C

Branch: Try to pry the door open

Branch: Use the wrench

Branch: Don’t use the wrench

Main Chapter 2: Desperation

Branch: Hide behind the boiler

Branch: Stay downstairs

Branch: Hide in the small area under the stairs

[stxrsniolo]

♰ֻㅤ۫ㅤֵ⠀𝅥⠀ campfire hearts ꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱⠀⠀ִ⠀﹚⠀❟ㅤ

ㅤ◜ ✴ ⠀ 𓈒ㅤ ﹙sullen camper!zoey x clownish camper!chris ﹚─── ⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ crystal lake summer camp is a chaotic wilderness hotspot where rebellious teens and rickety cabins collide. zoey, a brooding guitarist forced to attend, clashes instantly with chris, a prankster who thrives on camp mayhem. their fiery feud kicks off on arrival day, landing them as cabinmates under strict counselor rules. with eight weeks of tension brewing, this summer’s set to be a wild cage match. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ( ˖ ࣪★˳ ) : first chapter → welcome to the shitshow!

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( aegan's notes )﹕a round of applause because i FINALLY dared to start writing this au that i introduced a while ago.

Crystal Lake Summer Camp sprawled across a ragged slice of wilderness, a fever dream of sun-scorched clearings and twisted pines clawing at the sky.

The lake shimmered like a dare, its inky waters lapping at a dock so rickety it groaned with every gust. Shitty cabins squatted along the shore, their wood etched with teen rebellion—dicks, curses, hearts with arrows through them. Dirt paths zigzagged the grounds, strewn with pinecones, crushed beer cans, and the faint whiff of stale weed, looping past an amphitheater where a fire pit smoldered, stinking of burnt marshmallows and last night’s staff fuckery.

The air thrummed with cicadas, heavy with sweat, regret, and cheap bug spray—a summer of chaos waiting to explode. A warped sign at the entrance read “Crystal Lake: Where Memories Are Made,” its chipped paint laughing at the suckers who bought it.

Arrival day crashed in like a bad trip.

Three buses roared into the gravel lot, spitting dust and campers into the mess. The first, a glossy yellow charter, dumped a pack of 17-year-olds with vape pens and overpriced backpacks, snapping pics by the sign like it was worth the hype.

The second, a clanking blue junker with busted windows, unleashed a feral mix of 18- and 19-year-olds; some chucking empty Red Bulls, others trading dark jokes about the counselors’ sex lives.

The third, a gray death trap wheezing smoke, coughed out the stragglers; Zoey among them, stepping into the shitstorm with all the joy of a funeral march.

Zoey slunk off last, her black hoodie zipped tight against the muggy heat, guitar case slung over her shoulder like a weapon. At 19, she was done with this crap, too old for camp songs, too bitter for team spirit.

Her dark hair hung over her gray eyes, and she fished a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it with a flick of her Zippo as she glared at the scene. She’d lost a bet to her dad—if she didn't make friends before summer, he'd send her to this hellhole—and now she was here, eight weeks of teen purgatory instead of chilling on her roof with a joint and her tunes. Her combat boots crunched gravel as she adjusted her headphones, the growl of a metal track bleeding out.

“Fucking survive this,” she muttered, exhaling smoke, already plotting how to ditch every dumbass activity.

Chris, meanwhile, cannonballed off the blue bus like a sugar-high toddler, his sneakers slamming the ground with a thud that sent rocks flying. At 18, he was a walking disaster—goofy, loud, and sweeter than he’d ever admit. His faded Crystal Lake T-shirt hung loose on his wiry frame, already smeared with ketchup from some pre-bus snack war.

“Crystal Lake, you sexy beast! Let’s make it epic!” he whooped, flinging his arms wide, blue eyes sparkling like he’d just won the lottery.

A few campers laughed—some nerd with a D&D manual, a punk girl with a nose ring—while others groaned and dodged him.

Chris lived for this: the chaos, the giggles, the chance to turn every moment into a playground. He raked a hand through his messy brown hair, grinning like an idiot as he scoped the place out.

The campers stumbled to the amphitheater, where Counselor Mike, a wiry burnout with a megaphone and a clipboard, perched on a stump, yelling over the racket.

“Alright, dickheads! Sit, drop your crap, intros! Name, age, fun fact—go!” The roll call kicked off with jagged vibes.

Mia, a twitchy 17-year-old with braids, chirped, “I can do the moonwalk like Michael Jackson!”

Jake, a lanky 18-year-old with a buzz cut, bragged, “I can chug a beer in six seconds. watch me later.”

Snickers and middle fingers followed, while Zoey slouched on her log, arms crossed, sucking on her cigarette.

When her turn hit, she stood, voice flat as a gravestone. “Zoey. 19. I play guitar. Piss off.” She dropped back down, exhaling smoke, ignoring the scattered chuckles, her mind on the weed she’d stashed in her sock.

Chris bounced up next, beaming like a golden retriever. “Chris! 18! Prank god—last year, I filled the counselor’s bed with Jell-O. Took him days to unstick!”

The crowd roared, a few tossing him fist bumps, and he ate it up, until he spotted Zoey; she was flicking ash, staring through him like he was a ghost. Oh, a sourpuss. How fun, he thought, already plotting.

Their first clash hit like a slap, minutes later, as the group hiked to the cabins.

Zoey lagged back, dragging her duffel, smoke curling from her cigarette, when Chris—bouncing like a jackass—cut into her path.

“Yo, Rockstar! Gonna blast us some screamo tonight, or you just here to brood like a vampire on a diet?” His voice was loud, goofy, dripping with mock cheer, pulling snorts from a couple of geeks nearby. He waggled his brows, blue eyes glinting, hands flapping like a deranged bird.

Zoey’s head whipped up, eyes blazing. “How about you shove your head up your ass and leave me the fuck alone?” she snapped, flicking her cigarette butt at his feet, the ember hissing out in the dirt.

She shoved past him, shoulder slamming his, but he spun, cackling like she’d just told a killer joke. This clown’s begging for a kick in the nuts, she seethed, her blood boiling.

“Damn, spicy! I’m shaking, Rockstar—gonna write a song about me yet?” Chris shot back, his grin widening, voice thick with playful venom. He skipped closer, towering just enough to grate her nerves. “Camp’s for fun, not sucking the life outta everything.”

“Call me Rockstar again, and I’ll shove that grin so far down your throat you’ll shit teeth,” she snarled, squaring up, smoke still clinging to her breath. “Back off, Prank Bitch.” She yanked her headphones on, cranking the volume, but his stupidly relentless laugh still pierced through.

Counselor Mike broke it up, waving his clipboard. “Cabins, morons! Two per—Pinewood’s co-ed. Chris, Zoey, you’re paired. Rules: no smoking inside, no pranks after 10, no sneaking out. Break ‘em, and you’re scrubbing the john. Move!”

The group groaned, splitting off.

Zoey stormed to Pinewood, duffel thudding, cursing her fate. Chris pranced behind, whispering to himself about glitter bombs, blue eyes flicking to her back.

This summer was a cage match, and they were the first to bleed.

⠀̋⠀★ . ᅠtaglist ູᅠ͞ — @courta13 @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @immaqulate @wysmols @chrepsi @mattslolita @ribbonlovergirl @milo-the-dog @madisturni @ariestrxsh @myluck4u-com

[insanescriptist]

A test of your reflexes

(Written in response to all those JL members capture Hood fics. As much fun as writing Jason is as a damsel in distress can be and vaguely cathartic/traumatic for all involved, a lot of them diminish his skills and that of the JL itself. So, I just wanna have fun with this.

So set during UtRH-ish but a couple tweaks.)

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

Batman looked pissed.

To be fair, he always looked stoic or displeased, so it was actually much scarier to see him looking mad.

Wally was so glad he was not on the other side of that and he was allowed snacks as the data was reviewed in the emergency meeting.

And also, it was very much decisively proven that Batman did have the scariest and most capable rogues; how many others had actually gotten onto the Watchtower, in custody, escaped, hacked the Watchtower and then escaped?

There's a reason they had dusted off the Hall of Justice's meeting table and had Cyborg on the line. Along with most others who did have a secure line of communication. A Tele(scope)™ meeting.

With the zeta system having been hacked, it was considered unsafe to use until the entire system had been cleared. So he, Wonder Woman and Superman were in the Hall, looking at screens.

So far, only the team up of Braniac and Lex had done something similar and this one guy had not only done it, but done it solo?

Yeesh, and he thought Dick's beef with Deathstroke the Terminator was scary.

This Hood guy was Batman levels scary.

Wally shivered at that and the thought of, 'is he Batman-level capable as well?'

"With more thorough review, it's been discovered the camera footage on the Watchtower was manipulated," Cyborg stated. "Along with the Zeta system and it's record logs. Electrical consumption records show several extra zetas than are recorded but the log data once you dig into it is beyond salvageable. Discovering which receiving and outgoing zetas were used is going to take time and checking them individually, which will also need to be cleared of potential traps because it-"

"Hood has accomplices." Batman finished. "Accomplices I haven't had evidence for existing prior."

"Are you saying he's been running rings around Gotham's underworld and tugging your cape as a solo act?" Hal asked in derision, leaning over Green Arrow.

"I know he has backing. You don't get that sort of training from just anywhere."

"If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was a Bat," Green Lantern drawled. "Those on the Watchtower saw the domino mask, the confidence and how he moved. That's how the League moves."

"League training alone does not make a League operative."

"Suure. But it really does look like Ra's sent one to distract you in Gotham. And then when captured, he decided to fuck us all, because we still don't know how big of a information breech we're dealing with. Which can now be making it's way to Ra's al Ghul or the black market to be sold."

"To clarify," Wonder Woman interjected. "What evidence do we have that this Hood still maintains ties to Ra's al Ghul? As Batman said, League training alone does not make a League operative or else both he and Green Arrow would count too. None the less, we still need to act as if this Hood does, in order to properly defend ourselves from possible consequences. How much headway has been made on determining the scope of the breach?"

"Between the zetas and the cameras, that's plenty wide enough." Cyborg admitted. "He had access to the gamut and knows how to bury his tracks. As a temporary measure, I'm going to clone and isolate the data from all systems to another device to review at will. In order to restore system access and resume normal operations, everyone will have to re-register for zeta permissions and choose new passwords. But first, I'll be checking out all the zetas in the Watchtower with Martian Manhunter and Superman to ensure they're safe on our end."

Batman got a second call on his line. "Oracle?"

"Batman, we need someone at Arkham's. I'm sending you footage. Right now. Joker's cell from ten minutes ago."

Wally had not seen Batman move that fast in ages. Batman's frown got deeper, as he looked at cameras that they could not see.

"Hood took Joker. And then the Joker disappeared in a camera blank spot and Hood is also at large."

"Oh fuck." Wally cursed.

----

Meanwhile Jason Todd, looked at the bottle in his hand, half full of beer and half full of miniaturized Joker.

And then he shot that with the Phantom Zone Ray Gun. It was just a beer bottle after all. Disgusting contents and all.

Stirring up trouble with the Justice League would mean that he'd have to lay low for a good six months, maybe abandon the identity of Hood and the not so little crime empire he had been building. For a plan of practically impulse, it worked out well. Less so in how he wanted it to go -it wasn't the three of them, he didn't get answers or avenged- but it was something he could do now, so he did it. Because fuck the Joker for his continued breathing. Better for the world that Joker was gone.

Sure, it was good work and necessary work to remove the trash from any society, the worst criminals permanently but what about those big enough to have some notoriety that were also well-deserving of death criminals? Wouldn't that be the greater good done for less effort?

If he was actually going to be dedicated to taking out the worst of humanity, small and easy pickings were small time and petty in comparison. If he was going to take someone out, it had better be someone worth it.

And without the beer. That dulls reflexes.

And living a costume lifestyle meant a constant text of his.

[electronicclowncollector]

STINGUE ESSAY

(Credit to @lilacharbour for providing me with the screenshots for evidence)

(^Yours (and your cat’s) reaction to seeing this post)

That’s right, in this essay, I will be persuading you, and any of the doubters out there, that the ship stingue is undeniably canon, and not the sort of canon you can just headcanon away. I will present several pieces of evidence with my vast knowledge of the Fairy Tail franchise (really vast) that can completely prove that stingue is a real ship (also known as Ring, stogue, the sabretooth boys, strong, but for the sake of keeping track of it, I’ll use the most obscure name for it, stingue). P.S. if you haven’t read my Rogue post, go do it, this won’t make any sense without a firm understanding of my analysis of Rogue’s character, and it's way shorter than this so there’s no reason not to.

Exhibit A: In this manga panel, we can see that sting is wearing a cat outfit. Many of the doubters would dismiss this, saying that this was all a part of his character development in the Saber Tooth arc, where he *Allegedly* wanted to become true to his guild name and become a sabretooth tiger (with cool dragon powers). I propose a different idea. He was doing this to impress Rogue. We all know the entire Fairy Tail franchise loves cats, it’s common knowledge, if you didn’t know that then you did inadequate research in preparation for this essay. But what makes this specific to rogue is that he’s wearing a cat COSTUME. NOT CAT EARS. NOT A CAT TAIL. AN ENTIRE COSTUME. You know who else is a cool cat in costume?!?!? THAT’S RIGHT, FRESH! ROGUES CAT. CLEARLY, sting was doing this in a bid to replace Rogue’s beloved cat Fresh, and you can CLEARLY SEE Rogue blushing, however, the blushing is only in the colored version of the director cut of the manga, and its top secret (only I have a copy), so you’ll have to trust the experts on this one. Also is the girl on the right single? If so, send her my way.

I’m sure the manga readers In the crowd are reacting just like Sting and Rogue did in exhibit B. But OP, I hear you ask, what about the anime only viewers? They won’t have this part of the manga adapted for years! And I must say, what an astute observation, I completely respect your question and you have earned a red heart, you can redeem it at the bottom of the post, or if you want to pass it to a friend press the two arrows button next to it to recycle the heart. ANYWAY, this shot here, was taken directly from the seen during the the raids on the beaches of Akane, when both Sting and Rogue had been caught in a quicksand trap by the SINISTER Bickslow. Where does Stingue apply to this? You may ask. Well, just outside the frame, we can’t see (but we know its true) that everyone is running around them to get ahead, because even the background characters like Natsu and Gajeel (may the dragons bless his sacrifice for the sins of fairy tail) know that they are romantically involved, but the scene cuts to black to see fresh teaming up with stings cat whatever its name (Bradley or doug or something) to save them, but off screen, they literally reach out and HOLD HANDS in the scene. THEY THOUGHT THEY WOULD DIE but their only thoughts were their mutual love for eachother. If that story didn’t make you cry, then I don’t know what did.

But OP I hear some of you asking, if they’re in a relationship, WHY havent they been openly talking about the more intimate side of their relationship? First of all, go reread the manga, second of all, this point is for you. Read Exibit C. Now, I’m sure this doesn’t need any explanation, it’s a completely self-explanatory point. But for some It is necessary, and I shall provide. These two were getting very lovey dovey during a date together, they were going on a walk in the forest and oh my, a river, and how did they get across? Stepping stones! The reason why it says a “Person stepping contest” rather than a “Stepping stones constest” is because of a translation error, no need to elaborate further. Another point to be made, more specific to this panel, is the character in the background, that very few people noticed on their first few reads, is Gandalf! Now, I’ll give you a chance to pick up your phone/ipad/PC/book after you all dropped it in shock, because that’s a lot to take in. But how does it relate to the ship? Well, Gandalf is a very close word to Gander, the word for an adult male goose, which in fairy tail culture is an animal associated with passion and romance, so Gandalfs presence obviously correlates with that. He has appeared in every single manga panel with rogue and sting in the background, further proof that they have a romantic, passionate relationship.

My next point relates to the games, which I have played time and time again just for this one cutscene. During the Mt. Hakobe chapter, the two were forced to travel up the mountain to obtain the fabled dragonberry from the mountain, in order to save Rogues adoptive mother/auntie dragon. The following dialogue ensued, starting with rogue: “Heya fresh, do you think you could pass me the beans? They’re in the backpack” (fresh was in rogues backpack at the time), fresh responded with a mix between a meow and a ribbet, and sting responded with the following: “Hahah, not more beans! It’ll stink both of our sleeping bags up for when we’re cuddled up in the tent!”. Rogue proceeded to blush and a quick time event occurred. Their obvious lovers banter shows more then enough to prove that in the games, both characters are incredibly infatuated with eachother, because as Dr Seuss (with help from me) said: “You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because” “Rogue keeps eating all the beans before sleeping”.

Now my final point in this essay is how syncronised they are. Besides the obvious romantic tension when they do their special move where their massive balls touch (obvious gay symbolism), they’re also syncronised in many other things. Most notably, finishing eachothers sentences, read exhibit D. The example above shows this, where Sting says “Ah!!!” and Rogue finishes it off by saying “!!”, a reference to Stings famous catchphrase, “Ah!!!!!”, but this time rogue added on the last 2 exclamation marks, showing a clear understanding of eachothers speech patterns and mannerisms.

In conclusion, Sting and Rogue are the love of eachothers life, which has been clearly seen throughout the Manga, Anime and Game (s)(?) If you have yet to be convinced by this essay, then I thoroughly recommend you to reread the essay if you aren’t. but if you have been convinced, congratulations, you are officially a stingue shipper, welcome to the club, no, the family. I myself am an honorary member of  the fairy tail community, according to a friend of mine, so I’m qualified to tell you that you will fit right in.

(There was another point to be made about some random person drawing art of the two of them looking at eachothers balls and blushing, but they were mere amateurs without proper understanding of fairy tail as a franchise, so I left it out.)

[dear-ao3]

Ask for f1 drama

i shall continue my tales of regaling you all

this edition: las vegas

so as it currently stands (november 14, 2023) there are two races left in the 2023 f1 season. one is this weekend in las vegas and one is next weekend in abu dhabi. we already know who has won the drivers and contractors (team) championship (max verstappen and red bull) but theres still some loose ends in the form of second third fourth etc place that need some tying up.

and the standings for the lower places of the championship are all quite tight:

theres still a whole lot of action that can come there

which brings us to las vegas

vegas is a new race on the calendar, meaning no one has ever raced there on this track before (and likely no one will again based on how its going) and it is a street circuit, so they are literally racing on the las vegas strip.

now, prior to all the new stuff that came to light for this weekend, f1 royally managed to piss off las vegas by (probably) making tax payers (the people of vegas) pay for the strip to be repaved (several million dollars), wreaking absolute havoc on their town, shutting off the fountains, blocking things off, making traffic a nightmare and most terribly, saying that they would block off/put blackout on any stores or windows of stores or hotels who didnt want to pay a several thousand dollar fee to f1, basically making the race not viewable to anyone for free. (note that they have several other street circuit races in the calendar and they don't do this there). so it was already a nightmare.

now it gets more fun!

the race is in the middle of november in las vegas (which, for all intents and purposes, is a desert) and they decided for some unholy reason to make this a night race. i think it starts at 11 pm local time. and low and behold, the organizers just happened to forget (and they admitted that they did indeed forget) that it gets very cold at night in the desert. right now its projected to be 44-47 degrees f ( about 4/5 degrees c). f1 cars are fragile little machines that get grumpy in the wrong conditions and boy let me tell you, this is absolutely the wrong conditions. if it is indeed This Cold at the race, it will make it the coldest race in f1 history. last i heard people weren't entirely sure that the cars would work or that the tires would cooperate.

the track set up is woefully abysmally. to get the tires warm, the lads would need some good corners to zoom around to get the tires up to temperature where they can go vroom zoom fast, but, there are not too many corners. below is the track. as you can see, theres a lot of straights, and thus, not many good opportunities to get the tires nice and hot, further affecting car performance

the pit lane (you know where everyone usually goes at least once or twice to change their tires) is quite possibly in the worst spot it could be. it is on the tiny straight right before turn 1. when you go into the pitlane, the tires lose a good amount of heat (or all of it if you're going in to get fresh tires) and they need to warm the tires back up. problem is, they're going to be zooming out of the pitlane basically directly into turns 1 2 and 3, on cold rubber, in a cold race. but it gets better, because of the way the track is set up, this positioning of the pitlane, if the exits are not timed correctly, will cause collisions because the pitlane exit it basically right where the cars on the track need to go in order to get the most speed (its more technical than this and someone else can fully explain the pitlane disaster better, but this is it in very simple terms i think). the pitlane is around where that arrow is.

so not only will it be cold and the pitlane cause accidents and the cars won't work, they don't have names for any of the corners and straights. so right now the map of the track looks like this which is batshit hilarious

and to top it off!! no one has raced here! no one knows how the cars will perform!! its going to be a shit show! god save the poorest little meow meows!!

and unrelated but there is a chapel in the paddock at the race, just for some spice, called race to the alter

[thevindicativevordan]

I genuinely don't understand why DC mainline sales seem to be faltering that much. It doesn't even seem to stem from Waid's nostalgia's propagation since JLU continues to sell well while titles with their own, distinct styles like Green Arrow, Nightwing, Black Canary, Flash, the Atom Project or WW seem to fall. If quality and variety won't help sales then what will ?

I don't know. I truly don't. Success is a fickle mistress and "just write good comics" in no way guarantees it. If you want my personal opinion, this is the result of decades of DC subordinating all of their characters to Batman. He's become the main character of the DCU, all the heroines (and villainesses) want to bed him, all the heroes compete (and lose) against him, his sidekicks run the majority of the teams, his villains curb stomp the other heroes when they don't focus on him, etc. More people know Green Arrow as Batman's lackey in stories like Kingdom Come, Injustice, or TDKR than they do as a hero in his own right. So why would anyone waste their time on heroes who aren't as cool or competent as Batman, especially when he walks all over them whenever they clash?

If you compare him with his counterpart over at Marvel, Spider-Man, there's a huge difference. Spidey might be the #1 hero but you don't see Marvel say he's smarter than Reed Richards, can beat the Living Tribunal with prep time, and he's usually not the leader of any team he's on. Plenty of heroes outright dislike him even! That balances out his popularity by ensuring other heroes get to contribute without being reduced to lackeys while Spider-Man dictates orders. Meanwhile at DC:

I firmly believe the worst thing DC ever did was make Batman the #2 smartest guy in the DCU. Absolutely idiotic decision making because who the hell needs C-Listers like the Atom for example when Batman is more popular and smarter? Made those guys completely useless, they need to retcon that ASAP. Bruce should not even be in the top 10 when it comes to super geniuses. We also need more teams where neither Bats nor his brats are calling the shots. Frankly we need more DC teams period, it's clear that most of their roster cannot support solos anymore. Maybe grouping characters together would help their sales? The Terrifics lasted longer together than any of them have on their own after all.

[dearly-somber]

Twister | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, eventual romance, fluff, humor, f2l (friends-to-lovers), pining, found family, high school!au, eventual smut

-> w/c. 1180

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Devil All The Time is an actual book I read, and, to this day, it’s still one of my all-time favorites. The excerpt at the beginning is also real!

-> warnings. None!!

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Aug. 16th, 2022 @ 15:00

-> fin. Sat., Sept. 16th, 2023 @ 16:59

-> edited. Mon., Oct. 30th, 2023 @ 23:03

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn, @saradika-graphics

Unless he had whiskey running through his veins, Willard came to the clearing every morning and evening to talk to God. Arvin didn't know which was worse, the drinking or the praying. As far back as he could remember, it seemed that his father had fought the Devil all the time—

Someone knocks on Jungkook’s door. You look up from your book (The Devil All The Time by Donald Ray Pollock) and smile smugly at Yoongi as he stands in the doorway, a grumpy pout on his face. “Can I help you?” you ask saccharinely.

He grumbles something you don’t catch before saying, “We’re playing Twisters downstairs.”

You gasp dramatically. “Am I dreaming or are you actually being nice to me for once?”

He growls low in his throat. “Don’t push your luck, human.”

You set your book face-down and skip past him, bounding downstairs with a smug grin. “I’m not leaving anytime soon, Boongles, so you better get used to it!”

“What did you just—“

“Y/N!” Jungkook’s face breaks out into a blinding smile as you enter the living room a few paces in front of Yoongi, his metaphorical tail wagging excitedly.

“Hey, Kook. I heard you’re thinking about me,” you tease, gently patting his back when he rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a hug. As you pull away, you ask, “So! How are we doing this?”

“I was thinking teams, since it’s only four of us playing,” Hoseok says, looking up from where he’s slung an arm around a still-grumpy Yoongi’s shoulders. “We can have two players move during one spin, and the other two the next, that way we can take turns so it’s not too chaotic.”

“The others aren’t playing?” you ask, kind of disappointed. Oh, the amount of chaos there would’ve been if more of them had joined you.

Jungkook shakes his head no. “They’re not feeling it. We convinced Jisoo noona to spin for us, though.”

Jisoo walks in from the kitchen with a glass of red wine in hand. She smiles amicably at you as she takes a seat. “Hey, Y/N. How’s the book so far?”

“Good, thanks.” You turn back to the others. “I assume JK and I are gonna be in a team, then?”

Hoseok grins mischievously as he shares a strange look with Jungkook, saying, “Told you. It’s me and you, hyung.” Hoseok smiles down at Yoongi, who sighs his acceptance.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbles.

You turn to look at Jungkook, who quickly tries to hide a dopey smile. “Why? What did Hobi oppa tell you?”

“Shh.” He turns you back to the mat with his hands on your shoulders. “Focus on winning.”

“Alright!” Jisoo sets her glass down and picks up the wheel. “First spin!” She flicks the plastic arrow, waiting a few seconds for the outcome before calling out, “Right foot, yellow!”

“You go,” you tell Jungkook. He nods, dropping his hands from your shoulders and taking a confident step forward as Yoongi does the same.

“Next… Right leg, blue!”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

In hindsight, Jungkook should’ve seen this coming. He should’ve known Hoseok was trying to set him up from the second he asked if “angel” would be joining them for Twister, even though Jungkook had been more than content to let her stay in his room a little longer. (His complacency with her absence had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that her scent was getting on his sheets.)

Now, with Y/N bending in front of him in a makeshift downward-dog and only one viable option for his next callout (right foot, blue), Jungkook wants to smack his head against a wall. He’d have to move his leg halfway across the mat, so he wouldn’t have any balance.

Unless, of course, he held onto Y/N’s hips.

Twister was a cursed game and he’d never play again.

“Jungkook, you gotta make your move in the next five seconds or else you’re out,” Jisoo warns.

He panics and shifts his foot farther out than he meant to, holding onto Y/N’s hips as his balance gives out and thanking whatever god is out there that Y/N can’t see the disgustingly bright pink hue dusting his cheeks with her ass so close to his crotch.

“You’re gonna make me fall!” Y/N complains, teetering forward. He tightens his grip on her hips and pulls her back ever so slightly. Hopefully he won’t get a boner. Gods, that would be embarrassing.

“Just—focus on your next move!” he half-yells, mouthing a curse at Hoseok, who was knocked out almost five minutes ago and is now standing smugly off to the side trying to contain his laughter. Asshole.

“Stupid game,” Y/N grumbles under her breath, her arms shaking.

“Left hand, red,” Jisoo announces.

Y/N grunts as she moves her hand closer to her body, unintentionally pressing into Jungkook. He bites down on his tongue and focuses on his breathing as blood rushes to his cheeks.

Yoongi huffs as he crouches and sets his hand on the red circle closest to him, grinning up at them with a dark look. “It’s over for you,” he taunts.

“Alright, Kook. Left hand, green,” Jisoo says.

Jungkook crouches down and sets his hand behind him, making eye contact with Y/N for the first time in almost ten minutes straight. “Next time—“

Y/N gets cut off with a yelp as, on their next turn, Yoongi bumps into her and sends her falling back into Jungkook’s lap. He groans, his hands shaking with the effort to keep himself up.

“Asshole! You pushed me!” Y/N yells, her ears turning red with rage as she pushes herself off Jungkook, about to angrily rush Yoongi when Hoseok picks her up around the waist and holds her off to the side with an arm around her shoulders.

“Now-now, kids, no fighting,” he teases.

“Beat his ass, Kook!” Y/N says in response, glaring at Yoongi.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as the game continues. The longer Jungkook has to play, the more tired he becomes—holding weird positions for long periods of time is surprisingly taxing. Just when he thinks he’s going to give out, Yoongi’s sweaty hands slide to the side and he ends up falling over, ass in the air.

Y/N squeals with excitement and rushes Jungkook as he stands up to his full height, massaging his lower back with a grimace. He oofs as she slams into him, her arms around his neck. He blushes and hides his face in her shoulder, trying to subtly breathe in her scent as she drops down before excitedly smacking him on his arm.

He smiles down at her and avoids looking at Hoseok (who he’s sure is having his own little mini-celebration) as Yoongi sighs as he stands up. “Well played,” he grumbles.

Y/N grins triumphantly, but holds her hand out for him to shake. “Good game.” Yoongi hesitates, but takes her hand. Y/N grins. “How does it feel losing to a human?”

“Gods have mercy…”

<- prev | next ->

[supermanshield]

Mistletoe superbat kiss for the holidays? <3

This turned out longer than I expected and I had a lot of fun with it! Thank you for the prompt!

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

Every year, Wally made it a national sport to put mistletoe up on the watchtower in all kinds of places. Together with Kyle he'd managed to get various members of the team to kiss each other - Aquaman and Wonder Woman, J'onn and Green Arrow, Black Canary and Zatanna just to name a few. But there was one person they hadn't gotten yet. Or rather two. Superman always politely kissed the other person on the cheek if he even walked into their trap, and Batman avoided them like the plague. It was as if he had a sixth sense for mistletoe. As far as Wally knew, he probably actually did.

Batman wasn't on the watchtower as often as the other team members, which already made it harder to catch him. But he was also extremely aware of his surroundings, and would slip out of the way always just in time when he'd notice the offending branch, and reset his course through the tower as if nothing happened. But Wally knew. And now he was out to get him. Together with Kyle he devised an ingenious plan.

Even though he wasn't there often, the watchtower was still one of Batman's most proud accomplishments. So obviously the plan had to involve some sort of malfunction to her wiring. Batman would come check it out and bam! Unavoidable Mistletoe dangling above his cowl. Now they just needed another person for him to kiss. Wally or Kyle could do it themselves, but as fun as that sounded, there was no challenge in that. Superman was the obvious choice, but it would be difficult with his speed almost matching Wally's. Wally would have to move faster than he ever had, and inside a space station at that. It was an ambitious plan, but together with Kyle he'd pull it off.

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

On December 24th, Bruce reluctantly beamed up to the watchtower. He was only here to get a hold of Aquaman before the crazy holiday villains would start wreaking havoc on Gotham. He said hi to Clark, always in for a good chat in the cafeteria around the holidays. Bruce knew it was a somewhat lonely time for him and had invited his friend to the Manor for Christmas day.

He heard Wally and Kyle giggling before seeing them walking off to a different section of the space station. He found Arthur in the pool, and while talking to him heard one of the minor alarms going off, indicating damage, followed by Superman's familiar swoosh flying past. Clark would have it handled then.

Except that a minute later Bruce's communicator beeped. Grumbling and sighing, he answered. "What?"

"B, we've got a minor issue in C-wing. Can you come check it out?"

This team really couldn't function without him. Although it was good to know that they wouldn't operate on his baby without consulting him first. "Give me a minute," he replied and cut the line.

When he finally reached the end of the corridor in C-wing and entered the room Clark had called him from, Bruce briefly looked at the three superheroes already there; Flash, Green Lantern and Superman. The minor issue they were standing around was a loose wall panel and some exposed wiring. "Hng."

"What's wrong?" Clark said. "It's nothing. A quick fix."

"How many Justice Leaguers does it take to change one lightbulb," Bruce said drily in his Batman voice. Kyle laughed a little nervously, but Bruce paid him no mind.

"Something went wrong with our maintenance job, Bats. Sorry," Wally explained. Bruce grunted again, and squatted down to the broken wall panel. "Superman, right here," he pointed. "Do your thing." As Clark squatted down next to him to use his heat vision on the wires, he felt more than saw Kyle moving and flying up a bit, but thought nothing of it. That was his first mistake. The second was getting up and turning around right as Clark was done. They got up together and turned around to a very smug Flash pointing up. "Got you!"

Kyle was hovering a little bit, holding a green fishing rod with real mistletoe attached at the end.

"Oof!" Clark cowered a little bit, clearly feeling guilty he had asked Batman here while The Mistletoe Plot was unfolding, but also clearly not having been in on it. He tried to get them out of it. "Well, technically you were in the middle of work when it happened, and it's not in a doorway, so..."

"I'm not one above admitting defeat, Superman."

"True. But you're also very resourceful in changing rules for your own benefit."

"Not this time. It appears I'm completely out of options."

"Haha! We got them!" Kyle yelled.

"Heh! Okay," Superman said. He started tilting his head in his signature Mistletoe Move to kiss Bruce on the cheek, but Bruce wouldn't have it. He grumbled, huffed, and angled his face towards Clark's lips. This might be the only chance he'll ever get at feeling those lips against his own and he was gonna make the most of it.

He grabbed the front of Clark's suit with his gloved fist to keep him close, and planted his lips soundly against the Kryptonian's. There was a little surprised sound in the back of Clark's throat, but that quickly faded into a sigh as Clark leaned closer to him. Could... could it be? That Clark had a crush on him just as he did on Clark? But then he wouldn't have tried to get them out of it before... Clark's lips were still moving against his own, softer than Bruce had ever imagined. He would get lost in this... forget himself and wrap his arms around Clark if they kept going any longer. Reluctantly, Bruce pulled away.

"Ha!" Kyle yelled. "That was better than I expected!"

Clark stared at Bruce, an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. "B...," he started, but didn't get to finish. In the background, Wally was still saying something about defeating the undefeated Batman, but it barely registered to Bruce, lost as he was in Clark's eyes. And in his grip. Sometime in the last 30 seconds Clark had grabbed his shoulders and was pulling him close again. Clark's face was very quickly getting closer, closer, Bruce closed his eyes and felt Superman's lips again. The force of the kiss made them fall to the floor in a flurry of black and red capes, the landing cushioned more by Clark's arms around Bruce than his own armor.

"Sorry!" Clark said. But that meant he wasn't kissing Bruce anymore, and Bruce wouldn't stand for that.

"Don't," was all he said, and pulled Clark back in for an open mouthed kiss. Somewhere off to the side, Bruce heard Kyle's laughing, and his saying: "How many Leaguers does it take to figure out Batman and Superman are in love with each other?"

"Four, man. Four!" Wally screamed. He threw his arms up and started pushing Kyle out of the room. "Uhh, we'll leave you guys to it I guess. Bye!" He quickly shut the door behind them.

"Thank Rao for mistletoe," Clark breathed above him.

Bruce smiled. "And for Wally West."

[toastingpencils37]

Just a collection of various Ninjargon translations from DR S1E1 so I can keep them all in one place.

Also, just a warning, some of the shots on this post have pretty bad quality so that you can't see what's on the signs, but I'm using a different screen for the actual translations that I can't really just screenshot.

The wall painting right below the garage thing:

Fresh Fo-

I'm assuming the "Fo-" part is supposed to have a "od" after it, spelling out Food, given the Fresh.

And then the banner thing to the right of Sora:

J4- PK-

Less likely real words, given the letter placement and the numbers. So probably either some sort of store advertisement/sign or just some random tag sign of some graffiti artist.

(Had to get two shots of these signs in order to be able to translate everything in the second shot)

The Green sign with the Dragon on the building:

Dragon House

The orange sign with the bowl right next to it:

Fresh

Again, likely food. Especially since right below it there's a menu

The menu below the orange sign:

Specials Fish.......Fcs Soup.........vfd Chicken........Yjr Noodles........Fcs

There may be some mistranslations with some of the red letters on the menu, as they were hard to figure out.

The string banner below the Specials menu:

68392047

Yeah I have no idea what that means. Because I don't think it's a set number of sorts because a) too long for a regular set and b) i don't think there was a polybag thing for this either, even like a LEGO City one.

Also, this menu and string banner appear at least four more times in the episode, with the string banner sometimes being blue rather than red.

For this shot I'm actually just going to translate the neon pink sign, because I can't get enough focus on the smaller things such as the papers taped up to tell what I'm looking at.

Also the cut off large blue "S" in the planter is part of a much larger sign that appears earlier, spelling "Crossroads"

Neon pink sign:

Forward

Only translating the white paper in this shot, which have some pretty bad handwriting (and i'm pretty sure a couple of the letters might be actual English or just nonexistent Ninjargon letters as well)

White paper:

**a*** am*fg mf** a*** fhl 5****

I was going to translate the blue paper as well, but one close look at it, I decided it's not worth it and that I don't have enough brain power for this shit.

The Specials chalkboard and the blue string banner right next to the green fish sign says exactly the same thing as the previous Specials sign and string banner, so I'm not translating that.

Purple vertical lamppost sign with an arrow pointed to the right:

Somewhere

Thank you street sign that really cleared things up /s

The blue sign:

2828

Probably supposed to be an address sign, but like many of the signs around the Crossroads, it pops up multiple times on different buildings. So who truly knows.

The box shown between Arin and Sora:

It appears to be flipped upside down, so if flipped the right way, it should spell:

Kgbdy

Also translating the poster because it surprisingly has some interesting stuff:

Mechmaster Mechma Reward Track Pie

The second line is cut off on the poster design itself, so that "Mechma" is the whole thing it says. Also not sure if the pie is something actually involved as a reward for winning the race, or if the people on the actual Ninjago team making the poster just decided to put it on for another reason, possibly even foreshadowing of what'll happen in the next scene.

Sign of cat:

Deals

This sign also pops up quite a bit in this episode.

The orange sign right behind Sora:

Sale

I noticed it appear once more towards the end of the race as well.

Sora's Mech:

SA-Mark

Orange sign above Frohicky:

Mec- Mast-

Obviously it's supposed to spell out "Mech Master" but it's cut off

Yellow letters below the black screen above Frohicky:

Register

The front of the mech:

Fast

The arm:

So

There's also a brown mech shown earlier that appears to have this also written on it, but another mech in front of it cuts it off so you can only see the "Fa" and the dash part of the "S"

Kreel's Mech:

Speed

The blue, black, and yellow graffiti:

Htja

The orange/brown shop sign to the left of Riyu:

It's the same as the one behind Sora, but now we can see that below the "Sale", there is also some Ninjargon.

So the full translation is:

Sale 98

Then the yellow sign with the red dragon to the right of Riyu:

Great deals

The graffiti with the fish:

Pux4

Of the graffiti, this tag makes the most sense word wise.

This same graffiti also popped up earlier on the race track, but I couldn't make out some of the letters there, so I put this one with the more clear letters instead.

Also, I think the "x" is an "x". Only letter that really seems to fit that shape.

Graffiti with shuriken star:

Dfg

Graffiti with hamburger:

Tddhfj

However it appears to be mirrored so it should actually spell:

Jfhddt

And then the little piece of graffiti in the bottom left corner:

....cy

Which is all we see of the graffiti there.

So, that's it for translating stuff from episode 1. And yeah, for quite a bit of the stuff, it's just gibberish.

[sgiandubh]

In which nope, it's still not McGill, but the plot thickens

One can twist and toss and turn that pic anyway they'd like, but for the life of me, if that person is McGill, then I am (as always) Marie Curie:

Credits given to @auburncurlslass, who managed this superbly focused screenshot, which puts the fanfic to sleep .

The man is not only shorter, portly and possibly bald/greying. He also wears a Barbour Bedale/Beaufort jacket, with all the bells and whistles, as my red arrows show. These two Barbour models are very much alike and at this distance, it is impossible to tell them apart, but anyways:

corduroy collar - ✔️

Barbour logo zipper or brass snap button - ✔️ (both featured on the regular jacket, could be either one of those on the above enlarged pic)

very characteristic side pocket (slit) - ✔️

normal pocket, with snap buttons, where the person put a yellow cap or something else, 🤷‍♀️ - ✔️

tartan cotton lining - ✔️

For comparison purposes only (and the sake of Science Itself):

Check, check, check, check and check.

I have been wearing Bedale (and lately the newer motorcycle jackets, too) since I was a sophomore, as I already explained a long, long time ago (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/740164708616798208/what-happened-with-barbour?source=share). I think I know one when I see one, especially in the wild.

Bless his heart, but I doubt that person was ever attracted to that kind of attire.

Also, for clarity, the above enlarged pic was taken last Saturday, February 22nd, at the Poolbeg Parkrun weekly 5k event, that takes place in Sandymount, a village near Dublin, in the Sean Moore Park:

How do I know it?

One of the runners liked both the pic posted on Sanctuary Runner Dublin's Instagram account...

.... and the Poolbeg Parkrun's post marking the occasion. Mind you, not many people did:

The rest was somehow easy, because the event has a wonderfully wholesome website, recording every round of the weekly run, with results: https://www.parkrun.ie/poolbeg/results/eventhistory/

The sister made it on the final results table, but C was nowhere to be found:

Still, she was wearing the Sanctuary Runners' T-shirt on that pic and looked exactly the way people do after running a 5k trail on a sunny, but frisky winter Saturday morning.

With no barcode scanned upon crossing the finish line, there is no way to tell who achieved what timing. It will not be recorded and you will appear as 'Unknown' on their final table:

A totally random example, for there are more than one:

Question is: if you decide, for whatever reason, to be a part of it completely incognito, why do you prominently feature at your sister's side, on a group photo of that same event you admittedly wanted nobody to know about?

And no, that was not a private event. That was a very public event, one that is regularly organized by a volunteer team and several running clubs of the same NGO network.

[fairlyang]

Pretty 🏹

w/c: 4K

pairing: kate bishop x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. meet up, slow build up, awkwardness x2, lil date, getting comfy w each other, teasing, stares, tension, making out, eating out, fingering

notes: I DELETED MY ACC LIKE A DUMBASS???? I WAS TRYNA DELETE ANOTHER ACC I MADE BUT ENDED UP DELETING BOTH?????? so now I’m gonna be reposting these and try to organize everything the way it was😀😀 this is gonna take ages oml I’m never gonna catch up on those drafts I had fml

Your friends had somehow convinced you to visit them at their university, you weren't up to it at first, mostly because you preferred staying to yourself and were introverted as one can be.

You kept your circle close knit and you didn't exactly have it in you to mingle with frat guys and sorority girls. But they reassured you it wasn't anything like that.

They said it was just a little archery competition and they were going to support your friend, Ella, who was apparently on the team. As well their new friend and there came the problem.

They quickly reassured you that she was just if not more awkward than you which at first offended you but then it relieved you a bit.

"I didn't even know they had archery clubs." You said making your friend Jazmin laugh.

"I guess it's like a 'if you know about it, you'll be in it' kinda thing." she says and shrugs.

You made your way to the archery center at the university and as soon as you walked in your friend Ella was up and in position.

You quietly close the door and go off to the stands as you felt the embarrassment surge through your body even if there was less than twenty people in the room.

Jazmin linked her arm to yours as you took a seat at the front row and watch as she steadily controlled her bow then shot the arrow and it went straight to the bullseye.

Damn.

She never exactly used a bow and arrow before but maybe she was just that talented, that she only needed a good two months to be good at it.

Definitely impressive.

Her second arrow was fast and made it into the bullseye, right next to the first.

You took a careful look at her hands and could tell from where you were sat that they were slightly shaking. You crossed your fingers and took a deep breath as if you were the one in her position.

She let go of the string and it was on the line right between the red and the yellow bullseye. Quiet murmurs emerged across the stands and to a table where there were the judges taking notes.

She gave them a nod then walked over to you guys as you give her a reassuring smile, "you did great!!" You whisper and she returns your smile.

"Really glad you came." She says and gives you a quick side hug before a girl walks in out of breath.

"S-sorry- sorry I'm late- but I-I'm here!" The mysterious girl in purple stammers and walks in, taking her position just like that.

Kate came in late because she overslept and scrambled at her apartment trying to find her bow, forgetting she left it at her chair by her dining table.

Right now she was regretting going to sleep so late and was dying of embarrassment but fought through it.

Suddenly you hear your friends whispering to you but you zoned out, not hearing a single word as you admired of pretty this girl was.

She had long dark hair that was in a high ponytail, and from where you were sat, the absolute pretty blue eyes. You only wish she were facing you just so you could stare into them.

She was wearing a purple archer jacket and you couldn't help but think how well the color suited her. She was drop dead gorgeous and you were slowly beginning not to regret visiting your friends.

You took notice of her stance, secure and grounded. Then looked at how she held her bow and she really looked like a professional. And then took a bit longe to stare at her biceps as she let go of the string and her first arrow was right in the middle of the bullseye.

She then immediately takes out her second arrow and quickly shoots it, and it lands right above her first.

Then again quickly grabs the third arrow and it went right in between both.

Your mouth was wide and eyes almost falling out of their sockets, could she get any better?

She then does a little bow to the judges and walks over to your group making your eyes get even more wide. Jazmin elbowed your side and wiggled her eyebrows at you before the girl sat down next to Eva and whispered something in her ear as you tried to just pay attention to the next girl.

But it was useless.

She was even prettier up close and you found it hard to believe that she was the one that was meant to be more awkward than you.

But then you remembered how she came in and it clicked a little.

Maybe she was a tiny bit awkward.

Suddenly the two girls to your right stand up and walk over to the judges. They give the four girls their respective medal and earn a round of applause from the stands.

Both girls go back to you and Jazmin with their medals around their neck. Eva with a silver one and the mystery girl with a gold one.

You hug Eva then let Jazmin give her one as well when you turn to the brunette and give her a small smile, "you were great out there."

She chuckles and waves you off before sheepishly grinning, "It was alright. Not my best work but thank you..."

Eva then cuts in and smiles at you both, "This is our Y/n! The one we were telling you about."

She said it in a tone that was almost to familiar-

Oh she was definitely trying to put you on-

Well at least this time it was with a gorgeous girl, the last time she tried to put you on with a random girl she knew for a solid hour.

"This is our new friend Kate Bishop!" Eva introduces and you nod, turning to look at Kate.

"It's nice to meet you." You say with a small smile, sticking your hand out for her to shake.

"Ditto." She says and shakes your hand softly.

Ditto? She thought to herself.

She knew she could do better but her brain was all over the place after running all over campus to get here. And now she had to focus when her new friends were introducing her to the most gorgeous girl she's ever laid her eyes on?

Impossible.

You swore you felt a shock as soon as her hand touched yours. And she felt the same.

You pull away, giving her another smile before she awkwardly pulls away. "So uh you're just visiting for the day?" She asks out of curiosity and you shrug.

"Maybe I'll stay for longer..." you made your poor attempt at flirting hoping she'd take the bait and she did.

Kate felt her cheeks heat up as she nodded, trying to act so casual but your friends could see right through you both.

They looked at each other then back to you both, who were staring at each other in awe. Jazmin quickly jumped on the opportunity to help you, "Oh shit- Eva, we completely forgot about our uh early midterm today!"

You quickly turned to look at her in confusion as Eva gives her the same look before Jazmin elbowed her. "Oh yeah!! Sorry Y/n we gotta go- but you guys can do something. Right?" She says, finally catching on and points to you and Kate.

You gulp and shrug, "well we can do something if you'd like- if you're not too busy I mean." You say quietly almost avoiding her gaze but you really wanted to see how'd she react.

She chuckles and nods, trying her hardest to keep her cool. "I'm totally down. Have you had lunch yet?"

You shake your head and she grins, "I know the perfect spot. I hope you like bagels."

——

You ended up walking to a nearby little cafe off campus. And she swore to you, it'd be the best lunch/breakfast you'd ever have.

So you let her choose what'd you eat, fully trusting the pretty girl's judgement.

And it was probably the best decision you ever made.

You practically moaned after your first bite, it was perfect. The perfect amount of chewy and crunchy.

It had a sunny side up egg, lots of bacon and cheese. She had the same thing but also ordered a regular bagel with cream cheese on it because "you can't go wrong with the original" according to Kate anyway.

"I told you!" She says with a laugh in awe of your reaction.

You were just so pretty in her eyes, she was also nervous when she found out she was going to meet someone new. But after meeting you and talking for an hour, she felt a sense of tranquility. You were so easy to talk to and she felt like she could just sit and talk to you for hours on end.

"You were right." You mumble still chewing which just makes Kate laugh.

"Finish chewing! We don't want ya to choke now, do we?" She teases, hee voice sounding huskier and you almost do choke but you took a quick sip of your coffee which helped you out.

You clear you throat and feel a shiver run down your throat, why did that do something to you?

Kate just sheepishly grins at you, knowing you caught on to her unexpected little double entendres. She couldn't help it.

Sometimes her confidence came in and would really make her more upfront. Plus that little moan got her slightly curious and excited.

She nervously chuckled and leans back into her chair, "you wouldn't happen to um wanna go to a charity auction with me? Tonight?"

The smile on your face appeared so quickly you couldn't stop it, "I'd love to!"

"Give me your number and I'll come pick you up." She says handing you her phone.

You grab it and quickly type in your number before adding a little heart next to your name. You hand it back to her and grab your bagel to get another bite but first replying back, "what's the dress code like?"

You take a bite and she hums, thinking of how to say it direct. "Well let's just say it's gonna be a whole bunch of rich people. A total bore." She says and rolls her eyes as you finishing chewing.

"But that's why you'll be joining me, to keep me from sleeping the whole time." She jokes making you laugh.

"So I'm only meant to keep you awake huh?" You tease and she shrugs.

"I'm sure you'll keep me entertained." She teased back and you bite your lip then shrug.

"Maybe I will."

——

As soon as you got to your apartment you spammed the groupchat and wrote an abundance of random letters and symbols. To what would look like gibberish to any normal human being, just looked completely normal to your two best friends.

Especially considering they instantly knew you two would get along greatly. They were right and were ecstatic to hear she technically asked you out.

But now you weren't sure what to wear. You had limited resources and needed something that would help you fit in.

Then it hit you.

You had a formal dress, a long dark purple off shoulder dress that had a slip on the left thigh. It was perfect, and quite literally the only good option.

You slipped it on and it was a perfect fit.

It fit your body like a glove and accentuated your curves beautifully. You looked elegant and you only prayed Kate would also be wearing something good.

Your heart skipped a beat just thinking about her looking all fancy and pretty.

Suddenly your phone rings making you jump but you quickly answer it, "hello?"

"Hey it's Kate! I'll be there in five minutes." She says and your bulge out of their sockets as you run to your dresser needing to put at least a tiny bit of makeup.

"Sounds good! I'm almost ready!" You say nervously and put her on speaker as you choose colors from an eyeshadow palette to match your dress.

"Uh huh... you sure do sound ready." Her voices teases, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Well what if I told you I was outside your place right now?" She asked and you almost scream. Almost.

"Well I uh- I'd say just give me a sec to put on my shoes!" You say nervously while now applying some brown to your eyelids as fast but carefully as you could.

"Mhmm.." her voice drops down and it made you even more nervous.

She sounded so good.

But she also wanted to test out the waters. And another thing that gave her more confidence was when she wore a suit. It was like her very own superpower.

"Getting all pretty for me?" She asks and you stop, eye wide, face immediately heating up.

You were silent for a few seconds not sure how to respond knowing damn well that's exactly what you were doing but you ultimately decided to play along.

"Maybe...." You say setting your brushes down and walking over to your bed where you left your most comfortable black heels.

"Well I just can't wait to see you." She murmurs and you feel a familiar heat shoot down to your core as your body shook at her words.

She sounded really good.

"Me either." You breathe out and put your heels on each foot.

It was insane how fast a stranger could make you so nervous so fast. You felt you could just melt into a puddle at her words. And the tone she'd use them.

There was no way she didn't know what she was doing.

Of fucking course Kate knew what she was doing.

She couldn't even believe she was doing it but ever since she first laid her eyes on you, she knew she wanted you.

You were just so sweet and funny. She didn't see that too often especially with her busy schedule but she was happy to see it now. "I'm actually outside now." She says and you mutter curses under your breath.

You grab a clutch from your closet and put your keys inside before turning off the lights and running towards the front door. "Okay I'll be right out!" You chirp and open your front door then close it behind you, making sure to lock it.

You then grab the tail of your dress and run towards the elevator not wanting to waste anymore time. The excitement cursing through your veins as you had no clue how the night was going to end up.

It opens up and you quickly press the button as the doors closed shut and descended. You tapped your heel on the floor, your patience running thin.

Then the doors open and you run towards the front door ignoring the stares of the people in the lobby. You then walk out of the building to be greeted with the sight of Kate in an all black suit, leaning against her car.

You stopped in your tracks and subconsciously licked your lips as you looked her up and down. She was doing the same exact thing, she couldn't keep her eyes off you.

"Wow- you look- wow-" she whispers and chuckles.

Then she steps up to you, offering you her hand which you gladly accept. She then walks you over to the passenger seat and opens up the door for you, as well as helped you get in.

Your stomach was practically erupting of butterflies, you'd never felt such a strong connection like this and it all happened so fast.

She closed the door and jogged over to the drivers seat. She then stepped inside and once she closed the door she turned to look at you.

Her cheeks were rosy and you noticed she had some of her hair clipped up, but left her bangs out. They were curled and reached her chin. Her pretty blue eyes were sparkling and look so much better up close like you had predicted. She looked incredible.

"You clean up really nice Katie." You compliment while shamelessly looking down at her lips.

"You do too...." She murmurs and was admiring how pretty your lips looked.

And lonely-

"So how long are you holding me captive?" You joke simply unable to read the room because it just made you even more nervous.

"For as long as I can keep you for." She says with a slight smirk tugging her lips.

——

The car ride was short and sweet. You both were flirting the entire time and you swore you could cut the sexual tension with a toothpick. 

The way she was looking at you made you weak at the knees and you were ready to quite literally melt in a puddle beneath her at any given moment.

So when you arrived at some grand hotel and she snaked her arm around your waist not only did you almost squeal but you did grin like a little kid at a candy shop.

Kate was growing more and more bold by the second. As soon as you hit the floor where the auction was being held, she would not let you go. You were stuck by her forcibly but you didn't mind a bit.

And after you both had a one singular drink, you were getting a little handsy and she didn't mind at all.

So it really wasn't a surprise when she dragged you into a random room she found was unlocked just to spend time with you alone in a more "intimate setting" as she put it.

"I think you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." She murmured as she led you to the bed in the middle of the hotel room.

"You're not too bad yourself." You coo and wrap your arms behind her neck.

Hers were firmly on your waist as the back of your legs hit the end of the bed. "Are you sure you want to-"

"Yes-" you interrupt and crash your lips onto hers without a second thought.

She kissed back immediately and gently put you on the bed as she climbed on top of you, your lips never disconnecting.

Your hands went to play with her hair as hers went to your jaw and moving down your body. She pressed her body against yours and you couldn't help the moan that escaped which Kate took advantage of and slipped her tongue into your mouth.

Throughout the clashes of tongues, your mind was all over the place. First thought was that she's an incredible kisser and the next disappeared as you felt her rub her leg against your covered cunt.

She was working fast and already desperately needed a taste. She knew you'd taste as good as you were beautiful.

She rubbed her knee gently against you making you whimper and squirm under her. Bucking your hips up, craving and needing more.

"Kate please-" you plead, looking into her eyes silently begging but it wasn't enough.

"Tell me what you need angel." She coos and you shiver, squeezing your thighs but she tuts.

"Nuh uh sweet girl. You just gotta tell me what you need." She murmurs and you whimper again.

"Y-your mouth-" you breathe out and she nods.

"Not so hard was it?" She teased making you whine but then she slides down your body making your heart race.

She gets between your legs and spread them, moving your dress so she can have full access to you. "So pretty angel." She purrs and rubs a single finger against your already soaked slit.

"And already so wet. Aww you're just a needy girl aren't you baby?" She coos, blue eyes boring into yours as you nod eagerly.

"Couldn't help it, could you?" She teases and your shake your head.

She was driving you absolutely insane.

Such a big tease and it only made you want her more.

"Katie please- I need to feel your mouth-" you plead and she nods.

"I've got you angel, you just relax your pretty little head alright?" She whispers and moves your panties to the side then wraps her arms around your thighs.

She then licks a strip from your folds and up to your clit. You shiver and let out a small moan, fully expecting her to tease you some more but she thankfully didn't.

Then she fully dives in, devouring your cunt and licking up your juices already feeling obsessed with your taste. You moan out and lay your head back but then lift it back up to watch as she eats you out.

Her eyes were already fixed on you, loving how pretty you looked when you moaned and god those beautiful moans were pure music to her ears.

And you tasted like heaven on earth. All Kate was thinking was how often she could get you to visit her on campus because she knew she'd miss your taste.

You wrapped your hands into her hair, moving it out of her face as she came up to start sucking on your clit. You moan out then immediately whimper as she slides a finger inside, your slick already enveloping her digit. "Fuck!" You whimper and buck your hips against her face.

She slowly started pumping her finger in, making sure you were comfortable first before quickly changing pace and fucking you faster to hear you moan louder. She buried her face into your cunt, not having enough, and wishing she had a dick.

Or that she thought of putting her strap on before leaving her apartment.

You were a whiny little mess for her and you felt your walls clench against Kate's finger which just felt so humiliating. One finger?

You knew you could do better than that but she was just doing such a good job, your poor little cunt couldn't help it.

But she made it less humiliating for you by adding a second finger and immediately started fucking you faster without waiting. Having no patience at all she just wanted to watch you cum, to hear all the desperate little pleas you'd let out when you're close to your orgasm.

The room was filled with the sounds of your arousal and your moans, all Kate needed to leave her boxers a drenched mess.

But she wasn't worried about herself right now, she didn't even expect anything from you. She just wanted a taste of you for her own pleasure.

"Kate- oh fuck- fuck yes please!" You moaned and Kate started curling her fingers up, making sure to hit your sweet spot that'll have you cumming around her fingers in no time.

You already felt your orgasm approaching and you tugged on her hair, practically shoving her deeper in your cunt but it was just what you so desperately needed. "Katie-"

"Oh fuck- fuck-" you breathe out and watch her suck on your clit hungrily, as her fingers pumped into you faster and deeper.

You felt your thighs begin to shake and you were dripping all over her fingers then you felt a wave of pleasure hit you like a tidal wave and you swore you could see stars.

You cried out for Kate as she slowed down, letting you ride out your high as she felt her wetness seep through her boxers. And possibly into her dress pants.

She then pulled her mouth away from you and slowly pulled her fingers out. They came out of you and your juices made their way down your asshole driving Kate insane.

But first she climbed up and laid down next to you, opening her arms as a silent offering which you happily took. You calmed your breathing and laid in her arms, against her chest hearing the loud of thumping of her heart while she rubbed along your back and leaving soft kisses to your head.

[willfulscarlet]

Assorted Arrowclan headcanons of variable relation to canon, vol 1:

Ollie takes his survivalist shit extremely seriously - not in a prepper ‘six months of canned peaches’ way, but if any of the arrowfam are teleported to a desert island/the Jurassic/an alien planet/etc, they have the skills to survive and even to put batboys to shame. Mia was not terribly enthused to learn flint-knapping, but even on a normal patrol, fixing a broken arrow with a quickly knapped bit of broken glass is a useful skill.

Chilli became Ollie’s comfort food of choice because of Roy, and the cornbread he learned to make growing up on the reservation.

They’re all casually musical. Only Dinah and Roy are fully professional quality - Canary is of course Canary, and at least one of Roy’s cover IDs is a session drummer separate from his time in Great Frog - but the rest are talented amateurs. Star City citizens can tell if it’s a quiet night on patrol by the way they start harmonising Bohemian Rhapsody as they go. For a week after Hal brings Ollie quantum ghost hyperchillies from sector 1337, Roy and Mia sing Ring of Fire every time Ollie gets near them.

The Roy Harper Group Home for Neglected Sidekicks is vastly more successful than the Roy Harper Titans Academy (though to be fair, he’s alive to influence setup and is aiming for wildly different targets to headmistress Kori. But also….) Grant is an enthusiastic mainstay of cookouts and official Big Brother to the brood, several of whom get adopted into the JSA. Jason is perpetually confused.

(this leads to, when Ollie is being especially Ollie, a 21-year old Mia declaring she needs an adult and looking to Roy as the responsible one. Which causes perturbations, mostly in Roy’s psyche)

Between her early home life, living on the streets, assorted heroism-related absences, her school getting blown up and her involuntary sabbatical courtesy of Waller, Mia’s had about a year and a half of high school. It’s something she’s intensely insecure about, especially around her Titans team.

Lian was meant to give back her Legion Flight Ring before she went after Ollie and Connor. And she did! She just stole Saturn Girl’s ring on her way through the portal. This will cause problems for people that aren’t Lian.

Connor is welcome anywhere, anywhen. He’s got the only functioning ‘tact and diplomacy’ brain cell in the family.

Ollie is banned from Twitter. Roy, Mia and the Queen Industries PR department all owe Oracle a kidney apiece for ensuring he remains banned.

Connor’s mom is an old hippie and lives on a commune just outside of Metropolis. They grow weed that could knock out Superman. Mia isn’t allowed to make brownies with Moonday ever again.

Several leaguers and quadruple the number of supervillains have nightmares about the first Sin-Lian-Emi teamup. Some things are just unfair.

By the same token, Bruce and Ollie have explicitly barred Steph and Mia from ever working together again. They pay even less attention to this pronouncement than their mentors expected. Possibly it has encouraged them.

Roy’s favourite shot: tripping Wally with an arrow through his shoelaces. He first manages it when they’re both 14, but the pinnacle is when he repeats it when they’re in their mid-30s and Wally is having yet another Speedforce-related Capital-C Crisis. Roy saving the universe through the medium of teenage pranks is not something he ever lets Wally live down. There’s a display in the Flash Museum and everything.

Mia, recognising Ollie’s habit of stranding himself on Starfish Island every time the wind changes, has buried several caches of clothes, survival gear and rations around the island. Just because he has a Robinson Crusoe fetish doesn’t mean she can’t be comfortable in board shorts while he ‘reconnects’.