#oh shit they closed off a major road in one direction

[bloomingbluebell]

also i cannot wait to drive. i love taking the bus but. i could be home by now if i drove.

[rouiyan]

𝘞𝘌’𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘙𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘮𝘬 ]

⧏ back to teaser || redirect to playlist ⧐

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"not trying to make her uncomfortable?"

"yeah, i guess."

"not wanting her to hate you more?"

"there's that too."

"not over her?"

"hey, not cool."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

in the heat of the summer…

“do i really have to explain?”

you know that you should be my boy.

“give it a go at least.”

in the heat of the summer…

“well…”

you’re so different from the rest.

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

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

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

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

“do you remember?”

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

“do you remember last summer at the lake?”

mind emptied, it’s all you know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and perhaps that’s what hurts the most.

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

“what’d you say?”

“nothing much, really—”

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

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

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

“mark, you whole-hearted idiot. wh—”

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

“i think only you were having a mo—”

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

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

“—but it’s all cool now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what time is it?”

“about 2:20.”

“where are we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“may i join you?”

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

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

“when should we get back on the road?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you ever feel like they betrayed you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n...what the fuck is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

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

“okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what won’t do?”

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

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

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

“well you’re not wrong there.”

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

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

“you have fun out there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

「 DAY 03, 8:21 AM 」 —  HIS APOLOGY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i should have just known.”

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

「  00:00  」 —  AMARANTH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“thank you.”

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

“for comforting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i feel like i know nothing.”

and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further.

“what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

right person, right time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how did you get over your first love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sorry for what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“us next?”

✧ [ FIN. ]  copyright © 2023 rouiyan all rights reserved.  

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

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

[leclsrc]

One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss. || with Charles

all my trying – cl16

genre: fluff, drabble, 1k celebration

19: one person stopping a kiss to ask “do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss. title from this

There’s crushes—juvenile, stupid to a degree, innocent—and then there’s Charles’ crush on you. He’s convinced he could write sonnets for you in all three languages he speaks, pave roads, paint ceilings, just to watch you laugh. A childhood crush so many years in the making is equally difficult to act on, because it would change everything, whether or not Charles wants it to, but he’s still determined on letting his feelings spill out of him. 

“This is sooo cute!” Charles’ philosophy was that, by enlisting a long-term relationship with a couple about his age to help him, he’d receive vital tips on how to steer things in the proper direction. Enter Lily and Alex, who are seated across him, both equally transfixed on his proposition.

It’s hot in Paris, where the majority of the grid has been spending off days lately, and you agreed to fly out to meet him. You’d missed him, you said. The way you uttered it tugged at his heart. “Oh, and in the”—Lily points outside the hotel window and onto the nearby Eiffel Tower—“city of love?! I am honored to be a part of this.”

“She’s been dying to play matchmaker for somebody ever since our rewatch of Clueless,” Alex explains.

“Tch. Like you’re not on yet another Paul Rudd mega-stalk session. I see your iCloud pictures, doofus.”

Alex opens his mouth to protest, but Charles raises a palm before either of them can talk. “I just need you two to help me say how I feel… properly. And to maybe set something nice up for her. Like a surprise, or something.”

“I would be so happy to. I’m thinking roses and a dinner in your room. Keep it simple,” Lily says fondly. “And the saying thing? Charles, that’s the easiest part.”

Lily and Alex have been together for so long, and are so compatible, that love advice becomes a rehearsed act. Alex comes next, sliding into the flow easily. “Mate, when you’re brave enough to just let your guard down and be honest, you’ll find yourself talking for minutes. About all the hows and whys and ifs and whens. Being in love just makes sense like that.”

The advice had stuck with Charles so much that it’s not until half-past-eight, when he’s readjusting the bouquet of flowers on the bed and monitoring the dinner waiting on the balcony, that it dawns on him.

He turns to his pair of co-conspirators, who are both lighting candles by the bed, and in one panic-induced slurry, goes: “Mon dieu. What if she doesn’t like me back?!”

Lily diffuses the situation, calmly explaining how that would go. Grin. Bear it. Accept that things may change. Don’t wallow in self-pity. “But,” she reassures in the end, “I’m positive she likes you. Loves you. You guys are basically soulmates.”

Just then, his hotel room door sounds with a knock. Fuck. Shit. He’d completely forgotten your ETA, and he can’t have Lily and Alex leave and ruin the momentum of the surprise. The trio quickly exchange wordless looks, and then Charles is promptly shoving them into the closet adjacent to the door. They both flash thumbs up, their pained smiles the last image he sees before closing it with a soft click and opening the next door with a nervous grin. “Hi.”

You almost drop your phone when you look up—behind your best friend is an assortment of roses, candles, and a dinner on the balcony. You smile a little, walking inside and letting him close the door behind you. You narrow your eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I—um, just.” He leads you forward, leaves your suitcase by the door. “I have something to tell you.”

“Alright. Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely, yeah. I’m just, I—” Charles curses himself. Didn’t Lily and Alex say this would be easy? Instead he’s thinking about everything, about the words and the things and the verb tenses and how you might react and if he should withhold some other parts and. And he realizes he’s thinking too much, holding onto too much. So he inhales, exhales.

“I love you.”

Your lips part, wordless.

“I know it’s been a long time coming—a really long time. I think the first time I realized I had feelings, I didn’t even know how to label them. We were... I was seven, you were six, and we were making lemonade, and you taught me what it meant to let the powder dissolve in the water. And I thought, I want to marry you so I will never forget how to make lemonade. Those feelings... they’ve only grown since then. You remind me to become better, is the thing. You… you’re always there for me, and I hope you think the same of me. You’re talented, beautiful, kind. You. It’s always been—it’s always going to be you. Everything. It’s you.”

“Me,” you repeat, almost tearing up with how overwhelmingly loved you feel. “Me.”

“You.” A beat. “Always.”

You take two steps forward and press a kiss to his lips, one that is immediately reciprocated. It lasts briefly, just you both meeting and parting lips and a smile, and then you pull away. He does, too, opening his eyes and then briefly widening them when he sees, behind you—

Good job! Lily mouths from the fully open closet door. Fucking snoops.

“Do you want to do this?” You ask, hesitantly. His eyes travel back to meet yours, glassy, unsure.

Closet Alex mouths SAY YES. Charles doesn’t need to be told twice, dipping down to kiss you with more fervor and knocking a breathless laugh out of you. Your hands wrap around his neck, both of you so wrapped up in the kiss—in the feeling of just being together—that you have to pull away just to breathe. You smile, your foreheads still touching.

“I love you,” you say, voice dry. “I always have.”

His eyes flicker upward. Both Lily and Alex are weeping.

[banannabethchase]

Can't Do It On My Own - also on AO3

~

Danny and Wheeler are moving in together.

~

And here it is! I waffled a lot on whether or not a third installment would happen, but an idea struck me that would be a good ~finale and here we are. Title, as they all were from this series, from Hold Me Like a Grudge by Fall Out Boy.

~

Danny yawns, fidgeting as he tries to get comfortable against the window of the car. He’s been doing this for a few minutes now, a sure sign he’s waking up, and Wheeler decides he can be annoying now.

“Wake up,” Wheeler says, poking at Danny’s thigh.

“No,” Danny whines. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, that’s your decision for waking up later yesterday because the hotel was, what,” Wheeler searches the memory. “Oh, right. Too comfortable.”

“It was too comfortable,” Danny says. He snuggles further into the seat and Wheeler pokes him again. “We should have used it for more interesting reasons.”

Wheeler fights his smile. “I mean, we did. That’s why we had to wake up at, like, six this morning. We have to make up time.”

Danny pouts like hell as he shifts and glares at Wheeler. “You got meaner since you’ve been back on TV.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not driving your car if you’re asleep.” He pats Danny’s thigh. “Wake up and act like you love me.”

“I do love you,” Danny says. “But I’m tired and annoyed and my neck still hurts from MJF’s bullshit.”

Wheeler loses the wherewithal to argue. He lets Danny doze off and changes the playlist to something he likes. They’re driving into Orlando from Buffalo, moving the last few things that didn’t belong in the Pod to their new place about twenty minutes from where Wheeler had been living before. His little Orlando apartment, one bedroom and a cramped kitchen, had served him well in the past few years. But now he and Danny are, like, a serious thing. And he figured it was time to take the next step.

Danny starts snoring again, soft but present, and Wheeler reaches a hand over to rest it on Danny’s thigh. It’s comfortable. It’s natural. Wheeler’s pretty sure this is his dream for what his life would look like, but he’d never say it to Danny. Not yet, at least.

They’re about twenty minutes out when he squeezes Danny’s thigh and shakes gently.

“Danny,” he murmurs, navigating around somebody double parked in the middle of a major road. “Danny, wake up.”

There’s a weird little snuffling sound as Danny shifts.

“Come on, Danny.”

“No,” Danny mumbles. “Tired.”

“I know you’re tired,” Wheeler says, “but if you wake up, we can get coffee.”

Danny opens an eye and glances at Wheeler. “Why are you looking at me? Look at the road.”

“We’re at a stoplight.”

“Get me a macchiato. With chocolate.”

“You’ll be awake to order.”

“Says you.”

Danny is awake, it turns out, but he’s kind of bitchy about being awake, which is cuter than Wheeler wants to admit. He starts to brighten as he sips his coffee, sitting up straighter and looking around the area.

“This is cute,” he muses, in between sips. “I didn’t see the parks when we came here the first time.”

“We came from a different direction,” Wheeler says as they pass a playground with swings.

“Oh, shit, that slide is cool!” Danny lights up as he turns to Wheeler at the stop sign. “Are we close enough we could bring our kids here one day?”

Wheeler stares. And stares. And stares, long enough that a car pulls up behind them and beeps.

“You okay?” Danny asks.

Wheeler nods as he accelerates. “I – just – I kind of had this weird vision of you and I with, like, two kids going to that park and teaching them how to do the swings, is all.” He feels his cheeks heat up, and is worried until Danny grabs his hands.

“I was thinking three,” Danny says quietly, “but yeah. Yeah, me too.”

~

The giant box makes a weird thud as it drops to the floor of their new kitchen. Their kitchen.

“This is weird,” Danny says. He’s got a box propped up on shoulder and looks unfairly good with the way his muscles are bulging. “Why’s the countertop so small? And the sink is tiny.”

“We just bought this place, and you’re complaining?” Wheeler leans against the counter. “You are all kinds of annoying.

Danny drops the box on the ground and hops up on the counter. “I’m just saying.” He automatically parts his knees when Wheeler settles himself between them. He rests his hands on Danny’s thighs.

“What are you saying?” Wheeler asks. He pretends the tiny little voice telling him Danny’s going to back out hasn’t suddenly gotten much louder.

Danny’s gaze flickers to the side. “I don’t want you to change your mind on this place.”

Wheeler stares at him. “What?”

Danny groans and drops his head back, narrowly missing clocking himself on the cabinet. “I don’t know, man, this is a big step and you just fucked up your head, okay? I don’t want you to wake up one day and your stupid brain is, like, turbo healed and you regret this decision.” He takes a breath like he’s steadying himself. “This is a really big step. But, like, the first big step in a long list of big steps we could take.”

“You – you’re worried about the counters because you think I’m worried about the counters?” Wheeler’s brain is spinning. “We could, I don’t know, fucking tear this place down and remake it with whatever counters we want.”

Finally, Danny meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Stop acting like I’m not as in this as you are,” Wheeler demands. He steps in closer, hands on Danny’s waist. “I want this because I want you, not for any other reason.”

Danny licks his lips, hesitant, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop or for Wheeler to give some sort of condition. Wheeler hates the way it looks on him – hesitant, worried, insecure. It’s the Danny he’s grown out of, the one whose greatest talent was self-sabotage. Wheeler loved both versions, but the newest one needs to stick.

Danny leans in, angle awkward as he presses his forehead against Wheeler’s. It’s funny, Wheeler thinks. The first dozen or so times they did this it was in the ring, hellbent on killing each other. Now it’s in their kitchen, arms around each other. Shit’s weird. “It’s, I don’t know, scary or whatever,” Danny murmurs.

“It’s allowed to be scary,” Wheeler says, “big things are scary. But you’re bigger than the worries, okay? We’re bigger than any worry you could come up with.”

Danny gets those formerly lanky limbs and essentially curls around Wheeler like an octopus. “Love you,” he mumbles into Wheeler’s hair.

“I love you, too,” Wheeler says. He holds Danny as close as he can, for as long as he can.

“Um,” he mumbles. “This is awesome and I love you all wrapped around me like this, but Magic, Claudio, and Mox should be here soon to help us move stuff in, and I don’t think we’d ever live this down.”

Danny laughs and pulls back. “We could always fuck in the kitchen, let them walk in on us.”

“I need you to know how terrifying the idea of your surrogate dad walking in on us fucking is to me,” Wheeler says. “Now get on the floor. I hate when you’re taller than me.”

“I’m always taller than you.”

“We are the exact same height.”

“Are not!” Danny jumps down. “See? I’m taller!”

“You are not!” He grabs Danny’s waist and holds him still. “Stop going up on your toes. That’s cheating.”

“I’m not,” Danny says, definitely struggling against Wheeler’s grip. And then there’s a little blush across his cheeks.

“Oh, I get it,” Wheeler says. He presses Danny against the counter. “You want to risk getting caught, so you’re riling me up so I fuck you, huh?”

“No,” Danny says, and the little smile that appears in the corners of his eyes betray his lie. “Okay, fine, not on purpose.”

“Get on the counter,” Wheeler growls, and Danny hops up without complaint. Wheeler leans in and kisses him. It’s always so good, kissing Danny. He always wants it as much as Wheeler does, always meets him with the same intensity that they get to when they meet in the ring.

Wheeler wants this forever.

Danny whimpers against his mouth, yanking Wheeler in with his legs like he’s desperate to meld together.

“If we, Danny, oh my god,” Wheeler laughs. “Breathe. Everybody will be here, like, any minute.”

“Don’t care,” Danny mumbles, sucking and biting at Wheeler’s neck in a way that will prove incredibly distracting before long. “Let ‘em watch. I want you.”

“Okay, well, when you say it like that.” Wheeler checks his phone. They don’t have a lot of time – not the time Wheeler likes to take with Danny, when it counts – but he figures a few blowjobs is a good first hurrah. “Get back up on the counter. I’m gonna blow you.”

Danny sighs.

“Is that disappointing or something?!”

“I – look, maybe I was hoping you’d fuck me against the fridge or something,” Danny says, and he has the faintest hint of a grin on his lips.

“Later,” Wheeler says, patting his thighs. “We don’t have time for me to fuck you the right way with them coming.”

Danny snickers and Wheeler ignores it. He’s already hard when he gets his sweats down his pants, and Wheeler doesn’t waste a second. He dives in, swirling his tongue around the head of Danny’s cock before ducking down and taking all of him down his throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Danny says. His hands fly to Wheeler’s hair.

Wheeler flips him off as he bobs, getting his other hand involved. Something buzzes in his pocket. He pulls off of Danny’s dick and strokes, thumb rubbing over the slit of Danny’s cock as Danny fucks up into his grip.

“Why’d you stop?” Danny asks. He’s got his hands braced on the counter to help him get leverage, and it’s giving Wheeler great ideas of what they can do in this kitchen when they have a little more time.

Wheeler grabs his phone and checks the message, not slowing his other hand or loosening the grip.

“We are having sex and you’re on your phone?!”

“Mox and Claudio will be here in fifteen. Mox argued with the GPS and went the wrong way,” Wheeler says, sliding his phone back into his jeans. “Or do you want to complain so I make it drag out and you don’t even get to come.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “I’ll shut up,” he says quietly.

Wheeler grins, and he thinks this is him earning being smug. “That’s what I thought.” He ducks back down, keeping grip and suction the way Danny likes it. Danny is squirming and whining, and Wheeler can sense more than see that he’s using the opportunity to do something akin to pushups on the counter.

He pulls away. “Are you working out?!”

“Gotta keep my pump going,” Danny says, grinning down.

“We are hauling loads of –”

“Yeah we are.”

Wheeler sighs and shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, Danny. Allow yourself to relax. You’re allowed to relax and, like. Enjoy it. Without doing anything else. Like fucking bits.”

Danny sighs. “I guess,” and it’s as dramatic as ever with him.

Wheeler goes slower this time, licking and focusing more than being intense about it. Intense seems silly now. They have a little time.

He keeps this pace until Danny’s whimpering and squirming worse. “Wheeler,” he whines. “Okay, this isn’t fair. Can – please?”

“Please what?” Wheeler asks, standing and stroking Danny with his hand. “What do you want Danny?”

Danny sighs. “I want to come,” he almost whispers. “I – I want you to make me – in our kitchen.”

“Yeah?” Wheeler’s heart fills with something so strong and unnameable he thinks it has to exceed love at this point. “We’re going to make every room in this house messy while we live here.”

Danny laughs as he comes, hips snapping up into the circle of Wheeler’s fist, and it’s so sweet and so good it takes Wheeler a second to realize he doesn’t have a goddamned clue where paper towels are.

“Shit,” Danny mutters.

“Don’t worry,” Wheeler says. He pulls his shirt off over his head and uses it to mop up the mess.

“I’m much more tidy than you are,” Danny says. “So. Up on the counter. I’ll remind you how exactly to do a blow job. Since you seem to have forgotten how to do it well.”

“I just gave you a great blow job!”

Danny grins up at Wheeler. “You gave a great hand job,” he corrects. “This is a great blow job.” He grabs at the waistband of Wheeler’s pants and Wheeler adjusts, lifting himself up on the counter the way Danny had before. He rolls his eyes. “Who’s working out now?”

“I – you had to take off my pants!”

“You didn’t have to be so showy about it.”

“I quite literally did or I wouldn’t be able to take my pants off.”

“Shut up so I can suck your dick.”

“You like it when I talk to you when you suck my dick.”

Danny groans. “You’re the worst. I love you.” And he leans down to take Wheeler’s cock into his mouth.

He really is good at this, Wheeler muses. Tongue swirling at the head of Wheeler’s cock on the upstroke, throat opening around him. He reaches down and brushes a thumb along Danny’s cheekbone, deciding that this, of all the things today, is the moment he wants to memorize. Maybe later tonight they can really go at it in their newly made bed. Maybe this morning was also perfect as they woke up in the hotel and got ready to go before any light had started to peek over the horizon. But this – this is a great beginning. A good start.

And, from what Wheeler can say personally, he feels great, too.

“Jesus, you’re stupidly good at this, baby,” he murmurs. “I love that mouth of yours.” He grins down at Danny, who is looking up at him. “Even when you’re being a bitch for Daddy.”

Danny groans and pulls off and glares at Wheeler. “It doesn’t work when you call yourself Daddy and I’ve already come,” he says, frowning. “If my head isn’t full of horny stupidity, it sounds ridiculous.”

“Maybe it gets me off,” Wheeler says. Danny’s got just enough hair for him to slide his hand into it, not tugging but also keeping a firm grip.

“I get you off,” Danny says, and it’s a bit petulant for somebody who just got a blow job. “It’s about me.”

Wheeler laughs, but it’s cut off fast when Danny, almost annoyed, dives back down onto Wheeler’s cock and goes to town. He was close enough before, but Danny seems to have dived in with an unseen fervor and his orgasm races toward him before he knows it.

“Danny,” he pants, hips twitching. He grips at the edge of the counter, determined not to slip right off. “Danny, I –”

With the way Danny looks up at him, mouth wrapped around Wheeler’s cock and eyes full of determination, Wheeler can’t hold back. He moans, Danny’s name falling from his lips, and it strikes him that this is the first of many moments like this in their new home.

He pants, half sliding down the counter. Danny presses himself in between Wheeler’s legs to keep him pinned to the counter. He leans in, and Wheeler kisses him, soft and sweet.

“See?” Danny murmurs, pulling back to press his face into Wheeler’s neck. “That’s how you avoid the mess.”

Wheeler laughs and pets Danny’s hair, glancing around the kitchen. The boxes behind them pile high and there is a lot of work to be done. But they get to do it together.

“This is great,” Danny says, “but I kind of don’t want our friends to show up and immediately know what we’ve been doing.”

Wheeler sighs and presses a kiss to the top of Danny’s forehead. “You have a point there.”

They redress to the best of their abilities, Wheeler’s shirt in a pile on the floor, and he hopes he can get away with saying he got too hot moving boxes.

“I’ll take mine off, too,” Danny says, chucking it so it lands on the awful, gaudy light fixture they are absolutely taking down once they get settled. “Less suspicious.”

“Yes,” Wheeler deadpans, “both of us being half naked is somehow less suspicious.”

They’re hauling in the last few boxes from the back of the car, avoiding the monster that will be dealing with Danny’s stuff from the trailer, when the door bangs open. Wheeler only jumps a little as he sets the box of Danny’s photo albums into the office.

He walks into the front hall to see Mox with an absolutely shit eating grin on his face, staring at Danny.

“Oh, I know what you two did,” Mox singsongs, leaning against the door. Claudio grabs him around the waist with his free hand and all but throws him out of the way.

“What?” Danny asks. Wheeler looks at him. No hint, other than messy hair, but they’ve been in a car or moving all day. Messy hair isn’t that weird.

Mox nods at Wheeler. “You got jizz on your shirt.”

“I do not!” Wheeler says, before he can stop himself. Before he remembers he’s not even wearing a shirt anymore.

“Hah!” Mox says, literally pointing and laughing at Wheeler. “You don’t, but I can tell by the way you’re checking it was a possibility.” He winks at Danny. “Getting that just moved in dick, I see. Good call.”

“Not seriously,” Danny grumbles. He takes the box from Claudio and carries it to the living room. “Somebody,” he yells over his shoulder as he sets the box on the dining room table, “decided that he didn’t want to be walked in on and we could only do blow jobs.”

“Only blow jobs?” Claudio asks, hands on his hips. “Not to sound old or anything, but I find a good blow job can be better than anything else.” He looks over at Mox, beaming, and Wheeler can’t decide if he thinks it’s cute or if it makes him want to throw up.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re a big sap.” Mox kicks at Claudio’s shins. “Danny’s right, though. I’d rather get railed than a blow job. Just a preference.”

“He gets it!” Danny says, throwing his hands in the air.

“Can – can we finish bringing the boxes in?” Wheeler pleads. “None of us are going to have a place to stay tonight if we don’t get the mattresses and bed stuff inside.”

“We could get a hotel,” Mox says. “And you could stay here and pout like a little bitch.”

“I am not pouting!” Wheeler shouts. “God, I hate all of you.” He laughs, shaking his head, as he walks out to the car and grabs the box labeled Bed Shit. Danny yelled at him for that one, but he thought it was funny.

They all crash before ten, mattresses haphazardly thrown onto the floors of the bedrooms, and Danny yanks Wheeler in by the waist, burying his face into Wheeler’s neck.

“Love you,” he mumbles. He smells like Wheeler’s shampoo and soap, the only stuff they could dig out of the boxes easily. He smells like home.

Wheeler presses a kiss to Danny’s hand. “Love you too, Danny,” he mumbles, “I love you, too.”

~

Mini Playlist: Hold Me Like a Grudge - Fall Out Boy Glory Days - Betty Who You Found Me - Kelly Clarkson Heaven Is a Place on Earth - Belinda Carlisle

Thank you for joining me in this group of stories about two of my favorite dorks! I hope you have enjoyed alongside me :)

[henrike-does-writing-sometimes]

Ready ? Fight !

I'm shit at writing fight scenes so this is basically practice. I give most of the context in the text, so I don't think I need to say anything beforehand.

Enjoy !

Word count: 3306 Warnings: Violence Wip: The Divine Characters: Rei Yamada, Aiyo, Andie Calinao-Fox, Taki, Timothy Murphy, Oid, Nico Morales, Aman, Mike Chandler, Doto

: Taglist - @vacantgodling​​ :

Let me know if you want to be added/removed !

//

“Are we there yet?” Doto drawled, stretching out their body across the dashboard. 

“Aren’t you the ones guiding us?” Rei said with a puzzled expression. 

“We’re giving directions based on feeling, yes. Doesn’t mean we know where they are.”

“We’re getting close, though.” Oid said from her perch on Timothy’s shoulder. She moved her head as if sniffing the air, snout scrunching up every so often. “Take a left, please.” 

her instruction sounded more like a request. Either way, Mike complied. 

It had been common knowledge that something was up way before the monsters reached Earth to begin wreaking havoc. Understandably so. Several people had voiced their questions regarding their motives, their origins. It had even gotten to the point where internet “detectives” were taking it upon themselves to figure it out. Though obviously, none of them knew what they knew. 

None of them had been at the fights. Had seen the strange humanoid figures that were either running from the newly formed monsters, or commonly watching over them from afar. It wasn’t too big of a stretch to assume they were involved in some way, for better or for worse. And tonight, that assumption was to be tested. Grouped up in Mike’s car, the boys drove in whatever direction their Lumens pointed them in. They had finally been able to fully confirm that these beings weren’t human, and so their presence stood out amongst the masses. Almost as if to beacon them closer. 

"We have been driving for a while now." Aiyo hummed, sounding more worried than annoyed. 

"We'll give it one more hour." Mike said. "If we haven't found anything by then we'll call it a night." 

Doto groaned, “But then this will take even longer.”

“Oh come on,” Taki smiled and jumped down from Andie’s shoulder to their knee. “One more road trip isn’t going to kill you.”

“I don’t think this counts as a road trip.” Timothy said, quickly dismissed by Taki. “It’s not about what counts and what doesn’t, but the vibes.” they then perked up, ears pointed straight as if listening to something only they could hear. "Stop the vehicle. And wake up Aman." 

Nico gently nudged his Lumen. Aman, who had been sound asleep in his lap for the past few hours, stirred for a moment before abruptly standing. Wide awake and almost alert. “We’re close.”

“Real close.” Aiyo echoed.  

"Alright, let's get to it.” Andie grinned. “Twi-"

"We are not transforming in my car." Mike stated and undid his seat belt.

“Yeah, hold off until we give the clear.” Oid said, to which the boys nodded before leaving the car.

They were in the more quiet part of town, with mostly residential buildings and obscure shops that had been running since the 80s. The late hour also meant the area was close to vacant. The majority of the people there were either passing through or gathered in the nearby park. Still, the Lumens kept away in jackets and sweaters.

"Did we ever decide on what to do when we catch this guy?" Nico asked.

"A simple interrogation," Mike said. "We have no reason to fight so, let’s avoid that as best we can."

"Which means we also need to keep them from making a monster." Rei pointed out. Then muttering his addition, "If, you know, our theory is correct and they are responsible for them, that is."

Andie gave an exaggeratedly dreamy sigh, "A mission with no fighting? Oh, this is going to be a good night."

“Don’t jinx it.” Timothy warned.

“I'm not ‘jinxing it’, I'm calling it. This is going to be a good night."

"Hell yeah!" Taki cheered in a loud whisper. They held out their paw for Andie to bump their finger against. Timothy rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless.

They continued to walk aimlessly through the street. Following the occasional direction given by their Lumens.

“Stop.” Doto announced after a while. “We’ve arrived.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time than we need." Mike said. When he’d assured they were alone on the street, he turned to the group. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

“Sun!”

“Twilight!”

“Moon!”

“Aurora!”

“Arcadia!”

“Illuminate us!”

A flash of light and they were in their uniforms. They looked around, scanning for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Anything that could've been the one alerting their Lumens. A faint howling brought Timothy's attention upward.

"There!" he called, pointing up to the rooftops where a strange figure loomed before disappearing behind the edge.

"Let’s go!" Andie charged, the others following quickly after. With the boost in athleticism their champion form provided they were able to scale the building in no time. Though the being was still way ahead of them.

"What's the plan?" Nico asked as they began the chase over the rooftops. 

"Well, we need to catch them and preferably not kill them," Rei began, caught off guard by how quick he was with calling the shots. "So we shouldn’t go for a group attack. Instead, we need to slow them down and keep them down."

"Piece of cake." Andie grinned and turned their head to Mike with a knowing look. The other boy gave a curt nod, flashing a toothy grin. “On it!” teal colors swirled around his hands as he charged up his attack. Quickening his pace, Mike ran ahead of the group for a clear aim. With his hands held out before him, he spoke; 

“Dreamer’s Distortion!”

A disk turned like clockwork in the air, before shooting off like an arrow. As if glitching, it changed its form over and over— before hitting its target right in their back. They stumbled to a stop, breathing heavily as the world began to morph around them. Leaving them unable to protect themselves from Andie as they tackled them to the ground. 

The being fell to the concrete of the roof with a grunt, glaring sickly as the rest of the boys surrounded them. They looked human, but was clearly not from either of the worlds. Their ears were pointed, their snarl held fangs. And their skin seemed to shimmer, and caused the air around them to flutter strangely. 

"Alright," Andie declared. "Who do you work for and what is your deal?"

The being groaned. "None of your business and none of your fucking business."

"Rude." Andie huffed, and Mike nodded in stern agreement. 

"'Rude' is whatever the fuck you hit me with, ugh." the being squeezed their eyes shut to ignore the nauseating twists of the world.

"Then you better start answering our questions or it'll only get worse." Timothy said and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Please don't threaten people." Nico whispered to him.

"I'm not. Just, being clear about what's going on. Anyways, why have you been watching us?"

The being tsked, a faint grin tugging at their lips. "It's been 60 years since we last heard of the elusive Champions. I just wanted to see what all the fanfare was about."

"That's bullshit!" Andie interjected. "If that were the case you wouldn't hide in the shadows or behind trees, nor would you stalk on random rooftops. Like, there are way better and less suspicious ways to go about it."

"I have only done one of those."

"We're generalizing." Mike noted. "Because there are more of you, aren't there?"

The being slowly opened their eyes. Dizzy gaze moving across the group as they considered the question.

"Yeah, there are more. But don't think we're running some club together like you are. I do things on my own. Whatever the rest of them do is unimportant to me."

"And what about the monsters?" Mike questioned. "Club or not, you all seem to bring one with you. How?"

"That's an easy one." the being said. They struggled for a moment, before producing a small device from their pocket, held proudly in their hand. “We just use these.” 

It was a metal square, with fine engravings and what looked to be a bronze-colored pearl secured in its center. 

“Mind explaining what it is?” Timothy pushed. The being gave him a quick look over, before smiling a too calm smile. “Why of course.” they said. Then they threw it. With all the power they had left in their arms. 

The device landed a good bit away from them on the rooftop. It lay idle for only a moment before latching onto a nearby roof tile like a magnet. Wires protruded from the engravings, wrapping themselves around the ceramic, and the pearl began to glow. None of the boys had ever seen the monster transformations, only heard about it through word of mouth from news channels and classmates. Standing only meters away from it as it happened, as it constructed its body and slowly gained control, was chilling. 

Standing before them, held together by the wires, was a large warrior of ceramic. Its armor was made from roof tiles, with the device held as a centerpiece on its chest plate. Several ceramic shards hovered in the air surrounding it. Compared to the other monsters they’d faced off, this one didn’t seem too intimidating, but Rei knew better than to believe a fight would be easy. He was proven right when the monster made the first move; swiftly shooting off three shards aimed at their group. 

They all dove to the side in time to dodge the shards. They buried deep in the concrete of the roof, right where they’d just been situated.

“Well, as much as I’d love to stick around and see how you’ll handle this one,” the being spoke, now suddenly standing on the far edge of the roof with a smug grin. “I have better things to do.”

Rei blinked, “How did you-?”

“Have fun.” the being sang, offering a quick salute before jumping off the edge.

“Oh that is so low!” Andie cursed. They were about to run after when Mike caught their wrist. “We’ll catch them another time. Right now we’ve got a monster to deal with.” and as if on cue, another shard shot through the air between them. Missing by only a small margin.

Andie grumbled, "There goes our good night."

"I told you not to jinx it!" Timothy called from across the roof.

"Oh shut up!"

“Guys, please focus!” Rei said, ducking quickly for an incoming shard. 

“Yeah, let’s get this over with as quick as possible.” Andie nodded.

“And try not to damage the device!” Mike added. “There’s no guarantee we’ll be able to get another chance like this.”

“Defeat the monster, don’t break the device.” Timothy echoed. “Got it.”

The ceramic warrior fired off a couple more shards. Each was dodged, however, upon impact with the roof, they each exploded.

“Are you kidding me?” Rei groaned. He then turned to Nico, “We should keep this fight on the roof as best we can. Got any ideas?” 

Nico scanned over the roof, quick to note a heap of potted plants. They were practically dead, having seemingly been forgotten about, but it was good enough. 

"Count on me, dude." he said before rushing over. 

He worked fast, healing the plants enough to be able to properly control them. And with tiles flying overhead he worked to create a tightly woven cage around their temporary arena. Which needed constant reinforcing each time it was struck with projectiles and explosions. Nico panted softly. The cage was taking more aetherium than expected, but it was working. Leaving no chance for the monster to escape and cause more damage than necessary. Even if it did seem more interested in them. 

Mike dodged another shard, shielding his face as it exploded. Like with the strange being, using a group attack was off the table. "The device always seems to break when we nullify the monster.” he thought aloud. 

“Then why not just separate the two?” Timothy proposed.

“Can we do that?”

“No idea, but I can try.” the device seemed relatively easy to reach; and even if he wouldn't be able to get it off right away, he could still get an idea of how difficult it would be. Which was better than nothing. So Timothy ran for it. Advancing with relative ease, dodging shards with the grace of a dancer. Though as he entered the final stretch, hand reaching for the device, the monster raised his hands— where several shards gathered to form a blade. 

A warning howled a moment too late, and the blade came down to strike Timothy across his chest. He screamed, the impact pushing him to land hard on the concrete a bit away. The ceramic warrior held out its hand, sending out another wave of shards toward the ravenette. Rei moved quickly, standing before Timothy with flames swirling by his hands. He thrusted them forward, creating a whirlwind of fire that chewed through the ceramic shards. All except one, which slipped by and crashed into Rei’s upper arm. Rei gasped sharply, legs giving out to bring him to his knees. 

“Guys!” Nico rushed towards them, hands still glowing pink from keeping the cage standing. He knelt by them, brows knit in worry. “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

"Yeah, I'm good." Timothy winced, using one arm to push himself up while the other was wrapped around his chest. "It's going to bruise, but I'm okay. Rei-?"

“Just a bruise. I’m fine.” the boy promised, brushing of the dust from the shirt of his uniform— which was still intact like Timothy’s. 

"Alright. Projectiles, explosives, and blades." Mike assessed. "That's quite the arsenal. And none of us has an effective shield."

"Maybe not," Andie said. "But there are still ways to keep it from attacking." without waiting for a response or reaction, they ran towards the monster.

“Chains of Twilight!”

Lightning sparked to life around Andie, manifesting like ropes as their hands curled around them. With a trained flick of their wrist, they had the ropes wrapped around the ceramic warrior’s wrist. Wave after wave of lightning traveled through the monster, keeping it tense and idle. 

“Alright!” Andie grinned victoriously. “It’s all free game now-" a shard hit them in the side of their head. Thrown off balance they stumbled, grip loosening enough for the lightning ropes to vanish. And even as Andie managed to somewhat steady themselves, the world wouldn’t stop spinning.

"Andie!"

"What���?" they slowly turned their head, didn't process the approaching blade until it was right before their eyes— caught by a thick root. Andie stared wide-eyed as the monster fought against it. Too caught in their shocked trance, they didn't notice when Rei grabbed their arm and pulled them behind a newly made wall of tightly woven vines. Their only means of protection against the monster’s incoming rampage. Nico dug his feet into the concrete, standing strong and bracing for the onslaught despite the ache in his body. Despite the desperate urge to make sure Andie was okay. Fortunately, Mike took on the task without hesitation. 

“You still with us? Can you hear me?” Mike questioned while he helped Andie to sit. He carefully pushed their hair away from where the shard had made impact. Small beads of blood had started to break from the injured skin, steadily blossoming in deep shades of blue. 

“Yeah- Yeah I’m fine, I hear you.” Andie groaned, bringing a hand to their forehead. “I just need a moment. Monster can attack even when immobilized. Got it.”

“It was a good plan.” Mike said in earnest, a warm smile on his lips. 

“Aww, thank you-” an explosion sounded right behind them as another wave of shards collided with the wall. Mere seconds later the blade struck against it in quick succession. Nico gritted his teeth, sweat beginning to form at his temple. 

"At the very least this monster is an idiot." Timothy muttered. Most of them were, but there had been a few exceptions. Resulting in long nights and wounds that had yet to heal. But at least in those fights they could properly attack the monster without worrying about more than the possible collateral damage.

"We're too big targets for it if we keep going one at a time. But we risk damaging the device otherwise." Mike pondered, a crease between his brows as he thought hard on what to do.

"Then let’s not attack at all. We just need to get the device thing off, right?" Rei turned to the rest of the group.

"If that is something we can do, then yes." Timothy said.

"Right. Nico, how much can the cage take?"

Nico took a moment to determine his estimate. "It'll handle the blade and projectiles just fine, more difficult is the explosives. But I should be able to keep it sturdy for a bit longer."

"Good. Mike, can you hold an illusion for us?"

"I sure can." the boy grinned, already catching on to the younger's plan.

Rei nodded, "Alright, here's what we're going to try."

By the time the monster had come to a pause with its rampage, the boys were all in position. Ready to execute the plan.

"Vision of Arcadia!" 

Mike spoke as quietly as he could with the words still taking effect. Teal mist swept over the 'arena' like a tidal wave, disorienting the ceramic warrior for just a moment. When it faded, an army of Reis, Andies, and Timothys stood by— all awaiting their cue. The ceramic warrior faltered for a moment. Confused over the sudden increase in numbers. But quickly it called its shards to action. And so too announced the boys’ cue. 

They ran towards the monster, shards cascading around them— some burying into the concrete of the roof, others exploding on impact. The ceramic warrior’s blade was just a bit slower. Still, illusions were broken left and right. Vanishing into thick clouds of teal. Luckily, the monster hadn't realized where they were coming from, so Mike could continue sending them in. Wave after wave, overwhelming and no doubt agitating. Even luckier, it had yet to strike the originals.

It came close on several occasions, causing their hearts to race. Rei’s almost stopped when he was first to the goal. The ceramic warrior seemed preoccupied enough with the incoming hoard to its left to miss him. So Rei braved on. He sped up his strides the way Andie had taught him, and made the leap. Finding leverage on the ceramic armor he managed to keep balanced as he wrapped his fingers around the device.

The monster immediately froze. Tensing up as it began shining with a dull bronze glow. When Rei began pulling on it, the device started pulsating as if a beating heart, sending a painful tremble through him. More wires protruded from it, wrapping tightly around his arm and burning against his glove. It protected him from any remaining marks, but the pain still seeped through. Rei gritted his teeth and pulled harder. So too did the device fight harder against him. Tightening the wires, threatening to cut into his skin. Turning the tremble to violent shudders. But Rei pushed through and managed to slowly pry it off from the monster. 

And like pulling out a stubborn cable, the device snapped off of the ceramic. The pearl’s glow faded, leaving it a dull brown barely reminiscent of its previous bronze shade. No longer attached to the device, the ceramic warrior fell apart. Returned to its former state as a pile of broken roof tiles.

Rei stumbled slightly when he dropped back down to the roof, static numbing his arm. Nico lowered the cage, reverting the plants to their former states. Albeit more alive and thriving. As the dust began to settle the boys gathered around Rei, staring down at the still intact deceive in his hand. It looked insignificant enough, but they all knew it would lead them one step closer to figuring out what was going on with monsters and the strange beings stalking them.

[little-diable]

Hate Me Some More (4/5) - Jamie Campbell Bower (smut)

Part 4/5 here we go! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series. The part in italics is a flashback. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Jamie and the reader are once again forced to face unwanted public attention as Jamie slowly but surely sets his mind on coming clean with his feelings - a confession that eventually leaves him without thinking twice about it.

Warnings: 18+, vaginal sex, outdoor (public) sex, blowjob

Pairing: Jamie Campbell Bower x fem!reader (2.6k words)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Header by @hidingsikki

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Silence, nothing but a suffocating silence that engulfed the two. Jamie had his eyes set on the road ahead, while (y/n) kept her gaze focused on her phone. Videos, pictures, posts, and comments about what had happened hours ago were flooding the internet.

Rage filled every part of her body, biting itself through her system like a parasite, not able to let go of her. She had been forced to pull Jamie off the man, ringed hands covered in blood that had found themselves pressed against hers - a gesture their fans would compare to a romantic act. 

What a fuck up that day had been. 

The phone calls with their management had been anything but pleasant, and even though Jamie had talked to them for the majority of the minutes, (y/n) couldn’t help but direct her anger also at them. They were stuck in this mess because of those money focused people, desperate for more attention and success. 

“Can you stop, please, darling, your thoughts are louder than the fucking music.” Jamie’s stoic voice filled the car, rough and throaty as if he had just finished playing a show. And yet he hadn’t said much in the past hours, not at the event they'd been dragged to - even after the incident had taken place - not on the drive home they were currently stuck in.

“Fuck you, Jamie. This is your fucking fault, because you had to prove some masculine shit, couldn’t you have just ignored him?” Her voice dripped with anger, this time the emotion was fully directed at him; like a stream of lava about to burn him; like an avalanche swallowing him whole. 

“My fault? How is this my fault?” Jamie’s eyes found hers, his pupils were filled with anger, an expression she had never seen on his features before. For a second her heart skipped a beat, unsure about his behaviour, the way he had suddenly flicked the switch without a warning. 

“You broke his nose, Jamie!” With his foot abruptly stepping down on the break, the two came to a halt in front of his house. Once again they found themselves surrounded by silence, a silence (y/n) desperately wanted to flee from, not up for spending another second close to him.

Once again she found herself reminded of her reasons for hating him, the stuck-up actor that had been teasing and tormenting her from the first day on. 

“I need to protect you, don’t you understand that?” It was merely a whisper, nevertheless, his words cut deep, forcing a huff of air out of (y/n).

“Protect me? I’m not a child, damnit Jamie.” She pushed open the door, too fast for Jamie to stop her from leaving. Deep inside of her, (y/n) hoped that he’d follow her, chase her to talk this through, but he didn’t. Jamie kept sitting in the car, eyes following her every move as his ringed hand reached for a cigarette. 

“Can’t you see that I’m helplessly in love with you?” And like the cloud of smoke leaving Jamie’s lungs, her determination to fight for their relationship slowly but surely evaporated into thin air.

„Oh my, look at that. (Y/n) is that really you?“ Her eyes met a pair of bright ones, unsure why Jamie Campbell Bower was calling out to her. He stepped closer, was holding a cigarette in one hand, while the other reached for his sunglasses. „I have to say, I was very excited when I heard we’d shoot this movie together. God, I still dream about you as Jane.“

She froze, hoping — praying — that he was only joking. For years she had struggled to accept her failure in that particular movie, wanting to be swallowed whole after reporters, fans and producers ripped the movie to shreds, making fun of her for taking on that role.

And even though she had been young, excited to be booked for her first big role in a movie, she couldn’t help but curse herself. She should have seen the signs, the cheap dialogues, the clothing that made no sense and the actors she had never heard of before. But perhaps she had been too oblivious, too young to grasp the meaning of it all. 

„I still have the biggest crush on Jane, it’s a shame that movie didn’t get the recognition it deserved.“ He deeply inhaled another cloud of smoke, spluttering from his lips like a waterfall cascading down a trail of rocks — all too effortlessly. (Y/n) found herself mesmerised by the handsome actor, the one she had been hopelessly crushing on for years.

(Y/n) had been buzzing with excitement as her agent told her about Jamie’s involvement in the movie, unable to stop her squeals from rumbling through her. But now, as the man kept teasing her, she couldn’t stop the wave of disgust and shame that flushed through her.

„Please, stop.“ Shame lingered in her system, shame she still had to fight against after all those years. But Jamie didn’t seem to pick up on her uncomfortableness, he kept blabbering away his every thought, praising her for her work. 

Praising (y/n) took for spiteful teasing, as if he wanted to embarrass her even further.

„And those heels, I always wondered how you managed to run in them, god, darling, I have so many questions.“ Jamie‘s laugh echoed through the afternoon air like an echo rumbling through a canyon. A valley she wouldn’t be able to find a way out of, forever stuck in that very position he had her trapped in. As if he was toying with her, proving to the actress that he’d always win.

„Can you please stop making fun of me?“ Without speaking another word, (y/n) pushed past Jamie, unable to stop her tears from welling up. 

The sound of (y/n)‘s phone going off ripped her out of her thoughts, trying to push away the memory of the first day she had met Jamie. Without looking at the screen, she picked up the call, murmuring a hoarse „hello?“

„Come outside, I want to show you something.“ For a moment she debated hanging up and leaving Jamie be. But her feet started walking, carrying her downstairs and out into the night. Jamie was leaning against his pick-up, he was wrapped in a sweater and a pair of black trousers, holding another sweater close as he just finished his cigarette.

„Are you up for a little adventure?“ His smell engulfed her, a mixture of cigarettes and his cologne, her favourite poison — even though she’d never admit to that willingly. With the nod of her head, (y/n) took the sweater from his outreached hand, she pulled it on, trying not to spare the soft fabric and the smell of his that stuck to it too much attention.

Jamie held the car door open for her, though he grasped her wrist before she could sit down. With his eyes flickering down to her lips, he pulled her in for a kiss, murmuring a small „ trust me“ against her lips — two words that carried more meaning that one could imagine.

No further words were shared as Jamie started driving. Soft music filled the air, lyrics he kept singing as his hand reached for hers, interlacing their fingers before she could pull away. Jamie was determined, set on pulling her in till she no longer felt the need to run. 

„Where are you driving us to?“ Jamie didn’t reply, all he did was shoot a knowing look into her direction, successfully shutting her up. A huff of air left (y/n), body pushed further against the seat she was sitting on.

The scenery kept blurring past, nothing she could focus on as Jamie took turns here and there. She didn’t know where they were, but didn’t truly care about it, somewhat glad about the small break away from the city, the drama and the internet. 

It was pitch black as Jamie took another turn, no longer on the highway but on a small pebble road. It took them a few more minutes till the car came to a halt, parked in the middle of nowhere. 

Jamie stepped out into the night, only to open her door a second later, hand tightly gripping hers. (Y/n) didn’t recognise their surroundings, eyes focused on the sky. Stars were twinkling in the dark firmament, millions of miles away and yet they appeared to be closer than ever before. Something about this moment felt more real than any moment she’s lived through before. An awfully melancholic feeling swapped through her, a feeling one could only describe as being homesick, wondering about all those galaxies her eye could barely grasp.

“We shot that last scene out here.” Jamie spoke up, eyes directed at (y/n) and the unreadable expression tugging on her features. “I was so confused about what I’ve done to you, I could barely focus on my lines. And you were so angry at me.”

“Because you kept making fun of me, fuck, Jamie. Don’t tell me you don’t know what’s been going on.” She turned towards him, arms slung around her middle to pull the sweater closer. The tall man only shook his head; eyes momentarily wandering up to the sky. 

“I didn’t make fun of you, you simply misinterpreted every word I’ve said to you, from the first moment on. But I meant it, everything. You do know how much I admire you and your work, darling.” A sigh left him as he pulled her into his chest, chin resting atop her head. She deeply inhaled, high on his scent, momentarily drowning out her racing thoughts. She couldn’t think straight, not able to decide whether or not he was speaking the truth. 

“I guess we started on the wrong foot. I’m sorry for being so hostile.” (Y/n) murmured her words against his neck, only lifting her head as he pulled her in for a kiss. The kiss had something so raw to it, it wasn’t fake, nor was it focused on any nearby reporters. Just the two of them with their hearts racing louder than any sound that could fill the night. 

Jamie pulled away from her to open the back of his pick-up. He reached for a blanket placed on the backseat, and helped her onto the loading area. It didn’t take him long to pull her closer, placed on his thighs, straddling the tall actor. Another kiss was shared, full of emotions that burned brighter than the stars twinkling in the sky. 

His hands wandered up her thighs, cupping her behind to push her against his hardening cock. A moan bubbled out of the two, vibrating through their systems like a shot exploding in their chests. Their bodies seemed to guide the two, taking over to let their minds rest - distracting them from the mess that was awaiting them back home. 

“Can I?” She whispered her words, hands toying with his belt, waiting for his consent. With a smirk tugging on his lips, his eyes found hers, filled with anticipation and lust. A nod signalled her to keep on going, to explore his body as if she had never touched him before. 

Trembling hands freed his cock from his tight trousers, she spat onto the tip - with their gazes still connected - before she started pumping him. Both Jamie and (y/n) were thankful for the darkness that swallowed them like shadows resting in the shade. No longer did they have to worry about curious bystanders, it was just the two of them. Forever connected till their lives would blur out like the stars dying thousands of miles away.

Only to be reborn in another dimension, one by one. 

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever survive being away from you, darling.” Jamie’s moans spurred her one, forcing her to add more pressure to her touch, pumping him faster and faster. Neither Jamie nor (y/n) seemed to be focused on their own pleasure, all they cared about was being together, closer than ever before, or so it seemed. 

Without another warning, she dipped her head down, tongue running up his length, coating him in her saliva. His taste stuck to her tongue, leaving behind a reminder for upcoming minutes as she’d get lost in the stream of pleasure he'd drown her in. Jamie’s moans echoed through the night, the only sound she could focus on, a sound she hoped she’d never forget. 

“Doing so well for me, my pretty girl.” He kept praising her as his ringed hand found her scalp, guiding the bobbing of her head. Soon she’d pull away, wanting to feel him cum inside of her, nevertheless, both couldn’t help but relish in the moment. 

“Gonna fuck you now, so you can remember why you belong to me, forever mine.” Jamie’s  possessive words left her quivering, he pulled her off his cock, turned them around to hover over her. He helped her out of her trousers before she watched him pull out a condom, only now did she seem to notice the trembling of his hands, just as nervous as she was. 

Even though Jamie had buried his cock in her tightness numerous times before, they couldn’t help but feel like this was the first time they were doing this. Inexperienced, nervous, unsure about their movements. 

He kissed her as pushed into her, swallowing their moans that clawed through them. Jamie could see the devil in him, luring in the deepest and darkest corners, and yet she filled him with more light than ever imaginable. A light he’d cherish, a light that would keep on flickering till his life would die out. 

Slow thrusts kept connecting the two, bodies colliding with every movement. The moment had nothing rushed to it, it was filled with gentle loving, a loving neither Jamie nor (y/n) was used to. 

“Feels so good, fuck, don’t ever stop, please Jamie.” Her walls fluttered around him, head thrown back as his hand found her clit. He rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves, set on pushing her closer and closer to the edge. And (y/n) couldn’t help but arch her front against his, wanting to feel him as close as possible. 

“I got you, won’t ever let go of you, I promise, darling.” He stared down on her with something laced in his gaze she wouldn’t dare speak out loud. And yet her heart couldn’t help but flutter and race in excitement, wondering if Jamie felt the same indescribable love. 

Her walls had a vice grip on his cock, pulling him in closer and closer, silently communicating her arising high. He kept building up the pressure of his thrusts, fingers moving in circular motions, only to admire her from above. Fuck, she was more gorgeous than any words could ever grasp, more beautiful than any word could do justice. 

(Y/n) came with a gasp, eyes rolling back into her head. He made her see stars one wouldn’t be able to find in the dark sky, so full of pleasure she felt herself almost passing out. Jamie’s pace began to falter, struggling to keep moving as his own release started swapping through him. 

He collapsed on top of her with another groan leaving him, body pressed against (y/n)‘s with a layer of sweat sticking to them. And yet the night did little to wrap its comforting blanket around them, leaving them trembling and shuddering in one another’s grasp. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone like I love you.” Jamie’s confession left him before he could stop himself. Eyes wide as she pulled her hand away from his, unsure if she had truly understood the words he had just spoken.

“What?”

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

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[genshin-impacted]

close proximity // Zhongli x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k 

Notes: gender neutral reader “you”, MAJOR Pining in Zhongli’s POV, touch-starved? Zhongli, domesticity

in the long haul, this would be one part of a(n indulgent self-insert) long-fic where Zhongli finds out that you (adventurer/traveler) have been camping out in the wilderness, so he invites you to crash at his place for an indeterminate amount of time 

also, happy birthday zhongli :)

Zhongli thinks that he should have known that welcoming someone so late at night into his home would invite the worst of the gossip. It only grows worse when people see that you continue to come back into his house and that you even have your own key to enter with. 

Luckily, the change from your original Mondstadt attire was the decisive factor that allowed you to walk the streets of Liyue relatively unseen, for you are no longer associated with being foreign or wanted by the Millelith. Instead, you are known to be the one that now apparently resides permanently (or so it seems) in Mr. Zhongli’s apartment, and the attention is now directed toward him.

You’ve even suggested that you float down and enter through an unsuspecting open window in hopes of abating the rumors, but Zhongli thinks about the implications of entering in any way other than the front door and saves himself the trouble. 

You apologize every time he closes the door on a particularly chatty neighbor, but Zhongli always waves it away. He feels more than justified inviting you into his abode. After all, he has caused you the most trouble, despite what you may think of Childe, with his plans for the harbor. Allowing you to share a space with him is nothing short of a fair trade. 

The feeling is only bolstered by the fact that you moved in with only the backpack hauled on your shoulder and nothing else, with Paimon wailing about how good it feels to finally have a pillow to lie on-- much to your embarrassment. (He waves your apologies to this away as well and does not speak of how the bashful expression on your face is rather endearing to see.)

It’s been a few days since the original hubbub, and the rumors have died down after numerous explanations that ‘they are a friend; yes, only a friend, and yes, we are both unmarried and the walls are thin, but you will not need to worry about any unsavory noises, as is routine.’ It’s evident that the nosiest of neighbors believe that he is lying, but he takes his words as seriously as the contracts that bind him.

If anything, the noises that can be heard are the random bursts of laughter or the playful arguments between you and Paimon. If the neighbors expected anything other than this, Zhongli cannot find it in himself to be apologetic because he cannot remember the last time his apartment was filled with so much sound or ever be so lively. The conversations seem ceaseless at times: whether he is sharing facts about Liyue Harbor or the random story he can remember that he thinks you would enjoy or whether you are the ones sharing stories of your own home-- or simply when Paimon asks a question that takes the entire night to explain. 

Zhongli likes the way his stories can make you laugh. It sounded sweet on the week's journey to Daudapa Gorge, and it sounds sweeter now in the confines of his home. Sometimes, when your laughter is all spent and your eyes wet from mirth, he sees you look up at him behind a shy smile with cheeks warm from something other than osmanthus wine, and he finds that he cannot stop watching you.

That is not to say that he is lacking in amusement. Paimon herself would be fine entertainment from her ideas and dreams and strange train of thoughts, but with your quick witted humor and easy-going banter, there seems to be no end to his smiles. Even Hu Tao has pointed out that he smiles more during work in the funeral parlor, and that it was, quite frankly, a little weird. Zhongli has no problems not letting that get to him, considering her boisterous demeanor as the head of the parlor herself. 

Another unexpected but not necessarily unwelcome change is the domesticity. Zhongli has always had his own routine: wake up at dawn to watch the ships leave the harbor, head over to the funeral parlor if he has been called in, peruse (and if he remembers his wallet, purchase) the new shipments, and come home for evening tea. With your presence, he finds himself waking up to sleepy Paimon and an even sleepier you, cracking an egg over the stone stove to cook breakfast. He eats in the morning now and receives an eagerly given lunchbox for him to take around when he goes to work. 

The times in which you leave the apartment differs, just as the time you happen to come back, but you never fail to bid him farewell or greet him when he comes back. You tap his shoulder to call him over for dinner, and you pat his head when you head to sleep. 

With you and Paimon, Zhongli gains a new routine-- one that he grows used to at an almost alarming rate, considering how unused he is to change. It’s almost a shame that this is a temporary set-up-- just until the drama dies down when Rex Lapis’ body is finally given its respects, and you can find a place to stay without being afraid of arrest. But as he has learned recently, some things are bound to change, whether he wants to or not. 

Which is not a bad thing, per say, he thinks to himself, as he cuts through the onions you have asked of him. If there is anything his time as Zhongli has taught him and of his journey with you, the beauty in many things is that they do not last-- which is why it is ever more important to enjoy it while it does. 

“Wow, you really don’t get bothered by the onions, huh.”

Zhongli chuckles, carefully cutting the onions for the stirfry Paimon has requested to eat tonight. He would have suggested eating at Wanmin Restaurant, but a grimace from you when you look at your wallet convinces him to suggest a home cooked meal tonight instead. “It is one of my many talents, it seems,” he says as you put your hands on your hips defiantly. 

“You’re going to be cutting all the onions under this roof,” you announce, walking behind him to turn on the stove. “Ack, I can feel myself wanting to tear up just from walking past that. How do you stand that, Zhongli?”

The smell of sesame oil permeates the kitchen nicely when you pour it into the wok, the sizzling a rather pleasant sound to accompany it. “Aren’t you going to tell me where the onions come from?” You ask as he dices the volatile vegetable.

He turns his head ever so slightly at your question, surprised. He prefers to tell you inane, though fun facts and stories he thinks you would be interested in, but he is surprised every time you come to him for things about Teyvat or of Liyuen culture. Though, he would be lying to himself if that does not please him. “Is that something you would be interested in hearing?” 

“Yeah,” you say, slightly distracted as you take out the ingredients from the cupboards, “I mean, Paimon and I can never find them in the wild, so I figured it doesn’t really grow naturally… so it must be from a farm?” He sees you wave a wooden spoon in question. “But where? Oh-- by the way, are the onions ready? The wok's ready."

“Ah, the onions are actually grown in the villages north of Liyue Harbor,” Zhongli replies, finishing the last of the dicing on the cutting board. “Though most of farms focus on exporting rice, there are some that farm mainly onions-- which is where you see most of the wares being brought in--”

“Oh shit, I put the fire up too high-- Zhongli, I’m going to grab the onions!” 

“Ah, yes, apologies, here--” 

He does not realize you are right behind him until he feels your body press against his for a moment, your hair brushing against his cheek as your arm reaches out for the cutting board. He cannot help but feel himself tense, only able to turn his head slightly just to see your face as close as it has ever been to his. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you say quickly, taking note of his surprised expression. “Nice cutting-- okay, time to cook--” The moment is brief as you rush to slide the onions off the board and into the flames, if the crackling is anything to go on. 

But he finds that he cannot stop thinking about how ticklish your hair was on his face or how warm you were. He remembers the longest embrace in your trembling arms and of your trailing fingertips on his shoulder for a wound that does not exist.

The kitchen is at a comfortable temperature with the stove going on high, but it is by no means hot by any standards. Yet Zhongli feels his ears burn.

“Zhongli?”

He should set the table, he thinks, but for some reason, he feels an ache in a chest every time he thinks of doing anything other than feeling your warmth again. 

“Zhongli?” You ask again, shaking him from his thoughts. His hand curls into itself in a moment of panic as he turns around, wondering if his distraction was obvious. If he were not a God himself, he would have thanked the higher beings that you didn't notice. “Sorry,” you say instead, “I interrupted you last time. What were you saying about the onions? Something after onion farms?”

“Ah, yes, ahem,” he starts again. “Most of the wares the Second Life sells is mainly from the villages themselves, and…” 

You continue to indulge him as Zhongli speaks about the farmlands of the north and about the mountain trade routes in the east when the two of you set up supper. He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush against his when he passes you a bowl of rice or about the way your bodies press together when you wash the dishes.

(Touch-starved. 

He is touch-starved, he finds out much later down the road, when he is able to hold you in his arms without needing to ask. It is why he wishes your hand would linger on his shoulder when you call him to dinner or why he finds himself relaxing at your touch. 

Or why he had started hoping that you would never decide to leave.

It seems almost too obvious now, in retrospect, but Zhongli does not mind that he is constantly learning something new about what it means to be human-- not when it means he can finally hold your hand walking down Liyue Harbor and squeeze your hand and feel you squeeze back.)

[rouiyan]

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

⧏ RELEASED — READ FULL FIC HERE ⧐

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"not trying to make her uncomfortable?"

"yeah, i guess."

"not wanting her to hate you more?"

"there's that too."

"not over her?"

"hey, not cool."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

copyright © 2023 rouiyan all rights reserved.

[tefilovesreading]

High expectations - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader

Pairing: Alive!Luke Patterson x Fem!Reader.

Word count: +3,4k

Warnings: meh just a few curse words, and a lot of fluff.

A/N: Because I love to push the deadlines, this is my entry/submission for @cherrymaybank​ Valentine’s Day challenge! Hope y’all like it.

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST

I closed my locker with a little more force than needed, and I cringed at the loud noise it made on the empty halls. Most of the students already gone, just a few lingering around the school. Who wanted to spend more time than necessary in school on a Monday?

“Why are you so angry?” Luke’s voice startled me. Leaning next to my locker with a grin on his face, he handed me my water bottle, “you left it in the library.”

“Thanks,” I smiled at him and adjusted the backpack strap on my shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he tugged on my backpack strap, making it fall down my arm, so he could snatch it and throw it over his shoulder, “I have band practice, do you wanna come?”

“I have a lot of homework, Luke,” I replied, matching his pace while we made our way out of the building and towards his car, “maybe next time.”

“You always say that but never come,” he accused me, unlocking the car and throwing our stuff in the backseat.

“It’s not my fault that you don’t do your homework,” I joked and stuck my tongue out at the shocked look he gave me.

“Oh shut up, I do my homework at night,” Luke started the car, and the careless look on his face, while he reversed the car with only one hand on the steering wheels, made the butterflies on my stomach flutter. “What are you doing on Sunday anyway?” 

“Uh, I don’t know?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, “should I have plans?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he stated, and then the realization hit me. 

“Oh,” I murmured, “I’m just gonna stay at home. You know I’m not seeing anyone.”

“You stayed at home last year, Y/N,” he pondered without taking his gaze out of the road, “and the year before.”

“So it’s my fault I happen to be single around Valentine’s Day season?” I countered getting a little annoyed at him.

“I’m not saying that,” Luke scoffed, “I was just thinking about the fact that you’ve never celebrated the holiday.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I shrugged and looked out of the window.

It really wasn’t a big deal for me, especially since I never felt the need to spoil the people I love on a specific day because I did that all the time. And it just happened to be a coincidence that all my past relationships either ended before the holiday or started after it. Not that my relationships were even that long because somehow guys always found an excuse to dump me after a few months. And if I was being honest, I was fine with it because I didn’t like any of those guys half as much as I liked the boy sitting beside me.

“It is a big deal for me,” Luke commented as he stopped the car in front of my house, “I can’t let my favorite girl just go around life without a real experience of how you’re supposed to be treated on Valentine’s Day.” 

“So what,” I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned around to give him a stern look, “are you gonna set me up with some random dude, so I can spend Valentine’s Day with someone and not at home?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Luke met my eyes with the biggest smile on his face as if he just had the best idea in the world, “I know you wouldn’t be comfortable around some random dude, but what if I give you the best Valentine’s Day, so you know what to expect next time you date a guy.”

As soon as those words left his mouth I felt like someone threw a bucket full of cold water over me. How could I tell him why this was the worst idea ever and that he’d only manage to hurt me because I was in love with him and fake dating him would only crush my heart? It’d be like getting to taste a piece of heaven and then being exiled. 

“Luke, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” I told him, feeling my throat tight out of pure nervousness.

“Why not?” he huffed and started tapping his finger on the steering wheel, “I don’t have a date either, and we’re just gonna spend the day together, we do it all the time.”

“I can’t say no, can I?”

“Not this time, babe,” he winked at me and rolled my eyes. 

“You’re a pain in the ass,” I groaned before reaching for my backpack before opening the door and getting out of the car.

“You know you love me,” I heard him say before I closed the door. And he was right. 

I waved him goodbye and opened the front door to my house, knowing that Luke wouldn’t leave until he saw me get inside. Those small gestures like waiting for me till I get inside before leaving in case I forgot my keys, or I saw something strange before going in, made me fall more each day for him. 

He didn’t have to care so much and go out of his way to help me if I needed a hand, but he did, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. He was such a great friend and that was the only reason I kept my feelings for him a secret. I couldn’t risk losing his friendship. 

My phone vibrated in my back pocket and when I read the message I felt the blood leave my face.

Alex: what did u do??? Y/N: Nothing??? why Alex: Luke got to the studio acting like he just drank 5 red bulls Y/N: not my fault

I plopped down on my bed and grabbed the closest pillow, so I could scream in it without my neighbor thinking I was crazy. There was no way this was gonna end well for me and I knew I couldn’t make Luke change his mind.

I furrowed my eyebrows when a folded piece of paper fell to the floor as I took the textbook I needed for my next class. I picked up and put it in my back pocket, I was late for class and the last thing I needed was to risk getting detention for being late once again. 

“Just in time, mister Patterson,” I heard the teacher say, and I lifted my head to see Luke giving her one of his charming smiles and then heading to his seat right behind me. 

“You’re late,” I whispered without turning my head to see him, I knew he was listening. 

“Yeah, I know,” he murmured, and I noticed a hint of disappointment in his voice, “I was waiting for someone.”

“Oh,” I let out in a breath. That’s all I can say before the teacher starts her lesson and I decide to pay attention. After all, Luke’s the one that can get away from trouble with a smile, not me.

I shifted in my seat, bored out of my mind while the woman kept talking about how we need to use the formula written on the board when I remember the folded piece of paper tucked away in my pocket. I reached for it, trying not to let Luke see what I was doing and trying to cover it with the sleeve of my hoodie, even though he was sitting right behind me. 

The handwriting was so distinctive I knew who wrote it as soon as I read the first word on the piece of paper. And after years of deciphering his handwriting, reading the lyrics to his songs, and passing notes during class, made it so much easier to understand it. 

I was thinking of a way to start the whole Valentine’s Day plan, and I concluded that since we’re not dating, we’re gonna be celebrating the real meaning behind the holiday. And that’s love.

I fucking love you, you know that right Angel? 

You’ve been my friend for so many years and I can’t be more grateful for all the support and love you give me without thinking twice. And that you put up with my shit, I know I’m a lot.

So I promise this week is gonna be my mission to show you how grateful I am for having you in my life, starting today.

I’ll be waiting for you at the library before classes start. I got you a surprise.

-Luke aka Major pain in the ass. 

Luke was waiting for me, that’s why he was almost late for our class. And I didn’t show up because I couldn’t stop for half a minute to read the note. God, I was so dumb. He was putting so much effort into giving me the best experience, and I already messed up on day one. 

I turned around quickly, enough time to notice the frown between his eyebrows and the sad expression on his face. I wanted to bury myself. How could I be so dumb?

I traced the word Angel with my fingertip and smiled at the nickname he gave me when we were kids. Luke fell off the swing and I leaned over him to see if he was okay, just to hear him say “Am I dead or is that an angel?”. Even now I still could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks whenever I remembered how he came up with the nickname.

“Make sure you study,” the teacher warns us, “we might have a quiz in the next class.”

As soon as she said that I started shoving my things inside my backpack because I knew Luke would storm out of the classroom the second our teacher let us leave. I stood him up, and I couldn’t even imagine how hurt he felt.

“Luke wait!” I called trying to match his long strides, pushing past the students in the hallways.

“Hey,” he said, slowing down a bit but not bothering to look in my direction, “you need something?”

“Luke, I’m sorry,” I apologized, grabbing his arm to make him stop and look at me, “I didn’t read the note until a few minutes before the class finished. I’d have shown up if I read it right away.”

“If you don’t want me to do this, just say it,” Luke said, and I shook my head showing him my disagreement.

“No, I mean it,” I let my hand fall from his arm and I grabbed his hand, locking our pinkies together, “I promise.”

“Good, because you’re gonna have to wait till tomorrow for your next surprise,” he smiled and squeezed lightly our fingers before letting go.

“What about today’s surprise?” I questioned.

“It was a coffee from your favorite coffee place and some donuts,” he replied, putting his hand on the small of my back and pushing me to keep walking, “once I realized you weren’t coming I gave it to Betty. You know I hate when food goes to waste.”

“Oh, well,” I murmured slightly disappointed because I didn’t get to have my favorite coffee, but with a warm feeling inside because he remembered the place I liked even when we didn’t go together that often, “we can grab lunch off-campus, my treat.”

“But I drive, right?” 

“Unless you give me your keys and I drive,” I wiggled my eyebrows and laughed at the frightened expression on his face.

“No way, I’d like to live,” I snorted at his comment, “no offense, Angel, but you drive like shit.”

“I’m not that bad,” I complained, and I knew my cheeks were blushing.

“Sure, whatever you say, Y/N,” he laughed.

By Thursday, I had a bunch of notes sprawled in my bed, Luke’s messy handwriting bright in every single one of them. He made sure to hide a note in my locker whenever I had to change my textbooks and after the disaster that was the first note he left me, I made sure to read them as soon as I found them. Most of them were just jokes, song lyrics we both loved, but my favorites were those that had memories of moments we had lived together.

Remember the first song I learned how to play, and I was so excited to show you, and when you came over I got so nervous that I forgot not only the chords but also the lyrics, but you sat there with me and told me not to worry while I searched again for the tabs. You have so much faith in me, it really makes me want to do better. You make me better.

My chest was heavy with mixed emotions. On one side I was over the moon with every single small gift and note he gave, but I couldn’t help but dread the weekend, knowing that once Valentine’s Day is over, my bubble would burst, and I’d be left with the sour feeling of knowing how amazing Luke could be as a boyfriend but with zero chances to have him as more than a friend.

I grabbed the small gift and put it in my backpack, waiting for Luke to come and pick me up. Friday came faster than I wanted and felt my whole body tense. Valentine’s Day was two days away, and I wasn’t ready for this to end. 

“Morning, Angel,” I heard Luke say when I opened the passenger door.

“Morning, Lucas,” I said and smiled at his groan. He hated it when I called him like that.

“I brought you coffee, but you don’t deserve it,” he commented, and I looked at him with my best puppy eyes, “that’s not gonna work on me, Y/N”

“Please,” I batted my eyelashes and I swear I saw him gulp. He rolled his eyes and handed me the coffee cup he was holding, “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am,” he winked at me and started the car.

As soon as we entered the building, Luke told me he’d meet me in my locker and then left without another word.

“Where’s Luke?” Alex’s voice startled me and almost made me drop my phone.

“I don’t know, he said he’d meet me here,” I replied and furrowed my brows when he shot me a confused look, “what?”

“Nothing, I thought I’d find him here since he’s been glued to your hip this week.”

“Oh shut up,” I laughed.

“I’m gonna go and see if I can find him with Reggie,” he pointed to the hallway and I nodded, “see you in a bit.”

I checked the hour on my phone one last time and sighed when I saw a girl walking with a rose in her hand. 

“All done,” I got startled for the second time that morning and I closed my locker to see Luke standing next to me with a small box in his hand, “last gift before Valentine’s Day.”

“I got you one too,” I said with a soft smile, “you want it now?”

“Now, obviously,” he answered with a grin. 

I opened my backpack and fumbled with a few things before finding the small gift. I watched Luke’s smile widen when he saw the guitar strings pack inside.

“Did you like it?” I asked just to hear him say it because the smile on his face gave away the answer.

“And you got me new guitars picks!” I laughed when he threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly, “I love it, thank you.”

His smile was on my mind all day, I loved to see him so happy about something I gave him. Shit, I loved him and that was it.

When the last bell rang announcing the end of the school day, Luke was already waiting for me by my locker with a single rose in his hand.

“I knew you’d hate me if I made you walk around with a rose, but I still wanted to give you one,” he mentioned with a shy smile, “you didn’t tell me if you liked the gift, by the way.”

“Oh, shit,” I murmured hurrying to find the small box I put in my backpack, “I forgot to open it.”

He waited patiently for me to open the small box and I looked at him in pure confusion. I knew that was his keychain.

“I don’t understand,” I mumbled, tracing the metallic guitar pick with his initials engraved in it, a gift I gave him last Christmas.

“We’re having a movie night on Sunday,” he explained, and I could notice the nervousness in his voice, “like the old days.”

The fact that Luke was giving me the best Valentine’s Day experience without even dating, and keeping in mind the things I liked or hated, made me realize there was no way another boy would ever come close to the expectations he was setting.

When we were kids, we used to build a fort in front of the TV, so we could watch movies there, but we’d always spend too much time building the fort and by the time we were done with it, we’d be too tired to watch the movie, and that meant falling asleep within the first ten minutes of the movie. Now that we were older, I didn’t know what to expect.

That's why when I unlocked Luke’s front door on Sunday, I felt my hands trembling and my heart pounding.

“Luke?” I called out.

“Living room!” he yelled in response.

The lights were dimmed, and I smiled when I saw the fort made of blankets in the middle of the room. At least that meant we wouldn’t be passing out before the movie started.

“You ready?” he asked, and I nodded, following him and making myself comfortable between the pillows.

“You did a nice job here, Luke” I complimented, admiring the effort he put into everything to give me such a good experience.

“I think building blanket forts is my real calling,” he joked.

“Oh, you definitely got better at it,” I bantered, and he pushed me lightly.

“Shut up,” Luke chuckled and pressed play to start the movie.

I didn’t pay attention to the movie playing in front of us, too distracted by his closeness, the heat irradiating from his body making me well aware of the boy next to me. And the fact that he had one arm over my shoulders didn’t help at all.

“Can I tell you something?” I wondered while keeping my voice just above a whisper.

“Sure,” he said with his gaze fixed on the screen.

“You just set the bar way too high for the next guy I date,” I confessed hoping he’d turned around to look at me. The lights were dancing in his face, and my heart skipped a beat when I caught the glimpse of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he whispered and my breath got caught up in my throat when he turned to look at me, “but that means I’ll have to do better next year.”

I blinked once, twice, and a third time, trying to process the words that came out of his mouth. What did he say?

“What?” I blurted out. Luke pulled a strand of my hair playfully and smiled at me.

“Did you really think I’d put all this effort just because you’ve never got to celebrate Valentine’s Day before?” he questioned with a smug look on his face. I didn’t know how to respond, and he took my silence as a signal for him to keep talking, “I was hoping you’d realize by now that I want to be your next Valentine.”

“Fuck you, Luke. This isn’t funny,” I scoffed at him, not believing a single word. He was joking, right?

“You’re really slow for someone as smart as you, you know?” Luke affirmed.

I could feel his breath fanning over my face and when he noticed I didn’t move away after he traced my jaw with his thumb, he closed the distance between us. His lips soft over mine, wandering in unknown territory for both of us. Luke nibbled on my lip with a tenderness I never thought he had in him, persuading me to let him in. 

I let out a deep sigh when he pulled away and didn’t waste time pressing our lips together one more time. Hell, he could be my Valentine for the rest of our lives if he wanted to.

tagged: @chevyimpala00067 @samanthawilliamspring @searchingunderthestars @luke-patt @moneybagmgk @angisbr @happinessinthedarkesttimes @knitsessed @teti-menchon0604 @randomstuff7 @warmness0ul @merceret @headheartbellarke@cordeliascrown @crybabyddl @phantompogues @the-romanian-is-bae @doaspeggy-says​ (Send me an inbox if you wanna be tagged in my stories)

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part Two: The Undateables)

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again…) For the Brothers, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Diavolo

He was soooo excited to get to experience camping! He had been asking the MC about human camping trips for about a week before making the announcement and he was pumped!!

Barbatos chauffeured him to the campsite in his own car (of course) but he insisted on taking every roadside, touristy stop they came across which doubled the drive time considerably…

He wanted to help everybody set up the camp but Barbatos and Lucifer were having none of it… So he took pictures and offered moral support instead! Good work everyone! 😁

He had his own tent about the size of a small house (ngl it took Barbs and Lucifer about a half hour to set the whole thing up). Barbs even somehow managed to pack a collapsible desk in there for him so he could still work… greeeat…. 🙄

Diavolo wanted to try everything. Literally everything. The man even traded his uniform out for full on outdoors gear, right down to one of those floppy fishing hats with the tackle stuck to it.

Politely insistently asks that Lucifer does things with him. The MC could come along as well (and in many cases Luci begs them to do so) but he wants to get some bonding time in with his best friend!

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Diavolo would get sidetracked quite a lot… Which is how he ended up having to physically steer his Lord out of harm's way more than once…

At one point while hiking, Diavolo was so distracted by taking pictures that he nearly walked right into the path of a passing bear and her cubs. Lucifer had to tackle him down into some bushes until they went away... His brothers teased him mercilessly when they heard about...

Dia also loved the camping food quite a bit. He's never gotten the chance to cook his own food before, even if it's just marshmallows over a fire, so it was all a brand new experience for him! S'mores are now declared a human world delicacy.

Man had the time of his life! He'd love to do it again, hell, maybe even make it a yearly event! (Few of the brothers share his sentiment, but hey, it pays to be King 😏)

Barbatos

If his Lord orders it, then he follows. He'll just have to double check that everyone is prepared for the occasion…

Drove Diavolo there with the patience of a saint (while also, like, being the exact opposite of that). Had it been anyone else in the car, they might have told him, "No, we can't stop for pictures of every moose you see," but Barbs is as accommodating as he is loyal.

It was pretty much all on his shoulders to direct the others when setting up camp. Lucifer would claim it was his, but let’s be completely honest here, Lucifer can't order Barbs to do shit. 

Naturally, he had his own tent close to his Lord, more modest in comparison, but big enough to hold a majority of the belongings and gear Diavolo had requested.

He also managed to bring a almost fully functioning kitchen setup for him using magic, minus a working oven by Diavolo's instruction. If he wanted a heat source, he had to use the campfire and he found the challenge intriguing…

For once in his extended life, Barbs had to do some trial and error in the kitchen. As it would turn out, fireside cooking can be a little difficult to master, but by the end of the trip he could still somehow dish out four course meals without so much as a sweat (according to the MC the secret was tinfoil and cast-iron cookware… who knew?)

When he isn’t prepping their next meal (which let’s be honest, with Beel on the trip that’s a constant activity) he’s guarding the food from Beel and Solomon…

The sorcerer wanted to help, but Barbs has already learned the hard way that if he so much as pokes a dish its flavor is ruined… It’s enough to make him wonder if it was a curse laid on him at some point…

Watching Barbatos deny Solomon becomes a pretty funny routine in and of itself. He’s not above just smacking the man’s hand away with a wooden spoon if it gets too close. Barbs doesn’t play in his kitchen. Back off. 😠

Barbatos is happy with the trip so long as the young Lord enjoyed himself. If that’s the case, and it was, then he’d happily do it again if asked… not that he’d have much of a choice anyway.

Simeon

Simeon was familiar with the concept of camping, he’d written about it in his stories, but he’d never actually done it himself… He had hoped it'd be an interesting experience! And uh… it was that from the very start… 

Purgatory Hall got its own car and Solomon was put in charge of driving… But no one mentioned that he drives like a complete maniac. Speed limits, stoplights, even the ROAD ITSELF be damned. Solomon drives in a straight line from point A to point B and if there’s anything in the way he’ll just use magic to get around it…

It’s safe to say that by the time he and the others got to the campsite (which was significantly quicker than the rest) the angels weren’t in the emotional state to pitch tents… He and Luke just waited for the others to catch up while praying and praising the solid ground beneath their feet…

He shared his tent with Luke and didn’t mind at all. It was probably for the best anyway because the little angel was scared of human world predators like bears and wolves coming for him in the night… Poor boy…

Simeon took to hiking quite a bit. Going out and exploring the area around the campsite made him feel invigorated! The forests were beautiful and it gave him ideas for a bit of a guilty pleasure he's been debating on writing, "The Tale of the Lonely Prince." 🤭

It was on one of those trips that Simeon discovered human world creatures love him. Pretty much all of the wildlife gravitates towards him like he's a Disney Princess.

At one point he came back to camp riding on a moose with birds chirping on his new friend's antlers. He offered to take the MC out for a ride, but the brothers threw a fit about it…

He WAS able to get a couple more wrangled for Diavolo, who naturally dragged Lucifer along (though he clearly didn't want to touch the thing). 

The three ended up getting into a mooseback race because Diavolo wouldn't let Lucifer take the lead. He was glad to see Luci enjoy himself for a change! (It helped a lot that he won of course 🙄😏)

All and all, Simeon had a great time. Maybe he should ask the MC to show him more human places… But he's never getting in a car again. Pardon his language, but fuck those things!!!

Luke

He doesn't know what's worse… being out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of demons or the absolute insanity that was the "drive" down… 😣

He spent the entirety of Solomon's Magical Ride of Nightmares clinging to Simeon or the armrests for dear life. He swore his entire life flashed before his eyes, can angels even have heart attacks???

Stayed right next to Simeon when they finally pulled themselves together enough to leave the car. He was so happy that Michael didn't see any of that… Who knew human transportation was so horrifying…???

His saving grace (literally) was getting to share his tent with Simeon… After Solomon told him that bears sometimes get curious and ransacked campsites, he clung onto the older angel like a protective charm.

...Whiiiich he wasn't too off about actually after he saw Simeon playing (yes PLAYING) with the human wildlife… Simeon had to introduce him to some of the nicer animals for him to eventually get over his fear and venture out past the campsite.

Luke loved to swim in the lake or river with MC and the others. The MC found a sturdy branch where they set up a rope swing and the little guy amused himself for hours!

Sometimes he'd watch Barbatos prep and cook using the campfire… He didn't even know you could make lasagna in a Dutch oven…

At one point the MC convinced him to go with them and the twins on a particularly long hike…

He got tired halfway through and Beel offered him a piggyback ride, but of course he'd NEVER let himself be that close to a demon!! (Just kidding, poor boy was so tired he climbed onto Beel's back and held on the a kola until they got back. Then he jumped off to save face)

He had a better time than he thought he would, but still doesn't want to go camping with demons ever again. (He and Simeon also begged Lucifer to drive them back instead of Solomon so the brothers' van was pretty much a clown car on the return trip).

Solomon

Solomon hasn't been camping (for enjoyment) in quite a while, so when the prospect came up to do it with the MC and the other students he was intrigued...

When Simeon asked he knew how to drive, he said yes. He knows how to start a car, put it into motion, steer, and then come to a stop. That's all driving is really. 🤷‍♀️ You can't blame him for not memorizing all the rules, he's been traveling by portal for decades!

Was pretty confused why his angel friends fled the car so quickly... He got them there in one piece, after all. 😕🤷‍♀️ He put up their tents himself since they were too busy thanking their father then made a magic barrier around the site for protection purposes.

He and the MC both have their own tents, of course his is enchanted to be a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, but he's only let the MC in on that little secret in case they want to visit… 😏

When everyone else finally arrived, Solomon was happy to help the MC introduce the wonders of the human wilderness to their companions! Including the breathtaking vistas, beautiful flora, bitter temperatures, man-eating predators, waters filled with disease… Hm? Oh, Luke won't leave the tent now…? Whoopsie.

Solomon kept himself occupied on the trip the best way he knew how… relentless trolling (particularly of Asmo and Barbs because they're used to his shit).

He'd alternate between poking fun at Asmo for the almost ritual length routines he was going through to try and save his looks to genuinely trying to encourage him and downplay the severity of the downgrade...

Meanwhile he was bound and determined to serve at least one of his own dishes during the trip (but Barbatos had banned him from the "kitchen," the food tent, and even the spoons...)

Diavolo, nice guy that he is, eventually made Barbs relent and let Solomon cook for ONE night… It went as well as to be expected. (They sent Solomon to grab more supplies then everybody took turns washing their mouths out with lake water... Diavolo apologized profusely, he had no idea...).

Solomon was confused why the angels would rather squeeze themselves in with the brothers than ride with him back but he wasn’t upset about it. That meant he could make a few extra stops without anyone complaining! He knows a guy in New Orleans he’s been meaning to see again… Luke and Simeon can wait a little for their stuff, right?

Click HERE for Part One. Check out my Masterlist for more!

[mummybear]

Help You Out

Words: 3483

Warnings: Massage, Swearing, Smut, Major Dirty Talk (Really Guys What’s New?), Girl On Top, Topping From Bottom, Oral (Female Receiving), Biting, Slightly Possessive Dean, Multiple Orgasms. Think that’s it.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Mentions of Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s back hurts after so many nights in different motels, so when he and Y/N are forced to share a bed she offers him a hand to get rid of the ache, will he agree to her help when he’s been so distant with her lately?

A/N: @spndeanbingo Square filled - Motel Room. And a big thank you as always to my amazing beta @negans-lucille-tblr

Dean grumbles something under his breath, shifting awkwardly in his seat as he drives, mere minutes away from the motel. You couldn’t wait to get inside the room and take a shower, you were still feeling a little grimy from the previous motel, but luckily Sam actually seemed fairly impressed with the ones at this motel, and Sam Winchester was very rarely wrong when it came to showers.

“This bed better not be as bad as the last one, my back still hurts, damn lumps, I miss my-” Before he can finish his grumbling complaints, you cut him off already knowing what he’s going to say, safe to say this was far from the first time you’d heard it even in the past ten minutes.

“You miss your memory foam mattress back at the bunker, yes I know, and yes I also know that it remembers you.” You sigh loudly, before continuing with a lighter tone to your voice. “Look Dean, we’re here now, we can sleep for a bit then hit the road in the morning, okay?” You try and reason, doing your best to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Dean wasn’t much fun to be around when he was cranky and tired, nor when he was hungry for that matter. They were two of Dean’s biggest weaknesses. He kept insisting he was fine, but Sam and you had known better.

The two of you climbed out of the Impala and headed over to the main office, where a grumpy looking old man was thumbing through the paper.

“Good evening, could we get a double room please,” you ask as nicely as possible, the guy looks up and barely grunts, so you try a different tact, “two beds. One room.” You tell him, trying to keep the edge out of your voice.

“Only one double bed, one room.” The man tells you barely above a mutter, “take it or leave it.”

“We can go somewhere else,” Dean mutters quietly, turning to walk away from the counter. You frown in confusion looking back at Dean, with the key already in hand as you shake your head at the elder Winchester’s behaviour.

“We’ll take it.” You tell the man begrudgingly, not missing the slight hint of panic that flashes across Dean’s face when he looks back at you. You watch Dean with confusion as he turns and leaves you behind. You can’t put your finger on what the hell is wrong with him, and the last few days it has only gotten worse, but you follow him out of the office regardless.

-

You both grab your duffle bags from the Impala’s trunk, an uncomfortable silence surrounding the two of you, which was something you weren’t used to when it came to Dean, no matter how grumpy he was the two of you never really seemed to be affected, but the last few days you noticed there had been something that changed between the two of you.

When you stepped inside the room it already looked at least a little better than the last one you’d had to stay in. From what you can see the bathroom is cleaner and the bed looks a lot more comfortable and sanitary, though you were sure not all things would be coming up roses.

“You take the bed, I’ll take the sofa or something,” Dean offers, tossing his bag onto the small sofa, which was most definitely not going to work for a Winchester, not in a million years.

“Don’t be silly, Dean, we can share. We’re both adults. Or you can take the bed and I’ll take the sofa, because you couldn’t fit on that even if someone cut your legs off at the knees,” you half laugh, making your way into the bathroom with your own bag. Dean follows you to the doorway and leans against it. “Dean, it doesn’t make sense for us to stay here if you can’t even sleep. And I guarantee you, there is no way that you’re getting any sleep on that couch,” you reason, as you adjust the temperature of the shower and pull the curtain closed.

Dean scratches at the back of his neck and shifts awkwardly on the spot, “I uh, move a lot in my sleep, especially when I’m tired. Wouldn’t wanna hurt you or somethin’. I can just go sleep in the car.”

“Don’t make me throw you on that bed, we both know I can do it,” you warn him playfully, a little confused when you see a blush on his cheeks. You pull off your flannel and drop it to the floor.

“Now go get your butt in bed, please, we can share. But I draw the limit at you watching me get undressed.” You see him shift on the spot again. “I promise, if you get too aggressive at any point then I can sleep on the couch,” you assure him, finally earning yourself a slight nod.

“O-Okay, if you’re sure,” Dean stutters his half answer before stumbling out of the door and closing it behind him.

“So adorable sometimes,” you laugh to yourself, now fully undressed you climb into the shower, letting the hot water take you away for a little while.

-

By the time you come out from your shower Dean has collapsed on one side of the bed, fast asleep on his stomach, his jeans still clinging to his ankle as he groans something into the pillow his face is squished into.

You can’t help but admire the way he looks, even with his face pressed into the pillow he’s still one of the most handsome men you’d ever met. Those strong legs and the curve of his firm ass in those boxers, or the strong lines of muscle which are more visible in his back from this position, then of course, there’s dimples at the base of his spine that you’d never noticed before. His arms are under the pillow beneath his head, but you can see the defined muscles in them. You’d always had a thing for Dean’s arms, even though you’d tried not to let yourself look for too long, for fear he or Sam would catch you.

You shake yourself from your slight daze and throw your duffle down alongside Dean’s. Carefully tugging his jeans from his ankle and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, before pulling the covers over his body.

You freeze as he shifts in bed, worried that you’ve woken him up, but instead he curls slightly into the covers and onto his side, one arm beneath his pillow as he gets comfortable again. You breathe properly again when he settles, and you climb into your own side, pulling the covers up.

Dean’s body warmth and his light snores eventually lull you into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

-

You practically jump awake from your peaceful sleep, it takes you a minute to remember where you are, then you hear that noise again, Dean’s angrily grumbling something beside you as he tosses and turns in bed.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, voice still heavy and thick with sleep as you turn to look in his direction.

“Jus’ my fuckin’ back, sweetheart, sorry, go back to sleep,” Dean growls in sleepy irritation, throwing himself onto his back again.

You sigh and sit up, turning on the bedside lamp, “turn over, lay on your stomach. I can give you a massage. I’ve had to do it before, Dean, when I was on a hunt with a friend of mine who fucked up her shoulder.”

“I’ll be fine. Just go back to sleep. Besides, massages never work on me,” Dean argues, only annoying you that much more.

“Dean, stop arguing, just let me try and help for fuck's sake.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he grunts shifting onto his front.

You feel him stiffen beneath you as you straddle his ass, “just shut up grumpy ass. Listen to me, close your eyes and take a deep breath, relax,” you tell him as quietly as you can, trying to keep your voice soft, your ass hovering above his as you lean forwards and firmly grip his shoulders. He’s so tense and as you move your thumbs over his knotted muscles, you can tell you might be here a little while. Dean lets out a groan as you press and rotate your thumbs at the base of his neck, slowly making your way down his spine, digging into the knotted muscles as you move.

Well fuck, that may have been the sexiest noise that you’d ever heard. You try and ignore the way his groan shoots arousal straight between your legs, but you have to bite your own lip when you watch the way his hands fist at the sheets beneath him.

“How’s that feel?” you ask him, just above a whisper as your thumbs press into the muscles around his shoulder blades. Dean turns his head to the side and moans as you press against a particularly stubborn knot. You have to fight with yourself not to roll your hips against his ass.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’ve really got somethin’- Oh God,” he groans deeply and you swear your heart is pounding when he continues to talk in that same deep voice. “Your hands are like fuckin’ magic, I’m gonna have to listen to you more often.” He moans again as you move lower, sliding down so you're sitting on the backs of his thighs, your thumbs pressing into the bottom of his spine and the top of that firm ass of his.

You hate how shaky your voice is when you reply and how uncomfortable your panties have become. “Yeah, I guess you will. Glad you’re finally seeing sense.”

“You could charge for this, damn,” Dean rasps, as you lift yourself off of his thighs, terrified he’ll be able to feel how damp your panties are against his skin. You gently pull down the top of his boxers, digging your thumbs into the firm muscles feeling him relax under you. Then your hands move down further, gently pressing your thumbs under the curve of his ass and down his strong thighs.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, Y/N,” he all but growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have not to moan his name, practically biting into your tongue.

You take a deep breath and tap Dean’s shoulder gently before you lose your nerve, feeling the lump pressing at the base of your throat.

“You wanna turn over? So that I can do the front,” you explain just above a whisper, feeling him stiffen beneath you.

“That might not be such a good idea, Y/N,” he warns you, his voice taking on a deeper and rougher tone than before.

“Please Dean, thought we agreed you should listen to me more often,” you joke shakily; even you’re not sure if this is a good idea anymore. You think that you might know the reason he doesn’t want to turn over, but the thought alone only makes you want him to do it more.

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he rasps, as you sit up a little higher, allowing him to turn onto his back beneath you. As soon as they’re able to, his big green eyes lock on yours, looking a little panicked, and you quickly notice that his face is flushed.

You gasp as you lower yourself into his lap, feeling the impressive bulge that’s currently pressing between your thighs. You do your best to ignore it as you press your thumbs into the front of his shoulders and down his collarbone and over his pecks, before looking into his eyes again. Safe to say that was a big mistake.

His big hands grip your thighs when you involuntarily roll your hips against him, feeling his thickness press against you clit. Your nails sink into his pecs and he moans your name, “feel better, Dean?” you ask barely above a whisper as his hands drag roughly up your thighs and grip your ass tightly, finally pulling a whimper from your parted lips.

“Oh yeah, so much better, sweetheart,” Dean all but growls, nails sinking into your ass as his grip tightens.

You slump forward, letting your hands rest either side of his head as you look into one another’s eyes. “Is this why you’ve been weird around me lately? Because your back hurts? Or does it have more to do with the raging hard on between your legs?” you question him, unable to stop the smirk from curling at your lips when his cheeks blush bright red.

“I uh… I guess the last one,” he tells you quietly, swallowing hard and squeezing your ass harder. You cock your eyebrow in confusion as you look down at him, “look, don’t laugh, but I’ve kinda had this… thing for you lately,” he tells you quietly, a look on his face that tells you he’s worried about what you might say.

“Show me then,” you tell him, biting into your grin.

You squeal in surprise when he practically throws you onto your back and is hovering over you seconds later, a smirk stretching over his plump lips.

“Oh, I’ll show you alright,” Dean all but growls, the nervous side of him has seemingly disappeared as he kisses his way down your neck. You whimper as he sucks a mark into the skin, and drags his teeth over your collarbone, continuing to leave his marks across your body.

Dean settles between your legs and tugs them over his shoulders. You sit up, unable to stop yourself from watching. His eyes remain on yours as his thick tongue moves through your slick, the heat in his gaze makes your stomach roll, and you can’t help but moan his name desperately when his tongue circles around your clit slowly.

Your fingers thread through his hair and your breath catches in your throat when he finally sinks two thick fingers into your wet heat. It’s been ages since you’ve been with a guy, and even longer since you’d been with someone who knew what he was doing - safe to say Dean was a guy who knew what he was doing. With that perfect mouth of his, he's alternating between kitten licks and nibbling and sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves, and your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Dean, get up here, please, I need you inside me,” you whimper as he starts curling his fingers inside you, stroking against that spot which makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, and Dean’s groan vibrates through your pussy, causing a shiver to edge its way up your spine.

He finally relents, easing his fingers from inside you and sucking them between his lips, throwing you a wink as he pulls them free with an audible pop.

“Want my cock that bad, do ya sweetheart?” Dean chuckles, kissing and sucking at your skin as he crawls back over your body.

“Yes I do, you dork. Now get up here and fuck me.”

You giggle when he practically pounces on you, his lips immediately finding yours in a frenzied kiss. Dean shifts between your legs and you hook them over his hips as the tip of his cock nudges at your dripping entrance. Your hands grip at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, as he pulls away from your lips letting you both gasp for much needed breath.

Dean sits up on his knees, spreading them with his big hands and pulling you closer until your legs are pressed against his chest and your ass is resting on his thighs.

“Fuck, look at you sweetheart, so perfect, can’t wait to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock.” Dean groans as he pushes forward slightly, and you feel your pussy stretch around the wide head of his perfectly thick cock.

You cup your tits, feeling your nails biting at your skin as Dean pushes forward a little further, until he’s fully seated inside you. Dean grips the tops of your thighs as he starts to move, slow and calculated, his grip tightens on you when you try to rock against him.

“Fuck, Dean, more please,” you whine loudly, feeling him hitting that spot repeatedly.

“Don’t worry baby girl, you’re gonna fuckin’ come all over my cock real soon,” he rasps, turning his head to nip at your calf as his thrusts speed up, one of his hands splaying over your stomach, and you swear you can feel his cock bulging under your skin. You look up at Dean in awe, feeling that familiar feeling rising fast, your pussy fluttering and your stomach tightening.

“I can feel my cock against my hand sweetheart, so fuckin’ deep inside your sweet little cunt. You gonna come for me? Wanna watch you bounce on that cock, you gonna do that for me, baby?” Dean rasps as his thumb starts to rub at your clit.

“Oh… oh God! Dean! Fuck anything you want… I’m gonna-” You cut yourself off with a silent scream, feeling your entire body go rigid as you gasp for the breath you don’t even know if you need.

You’ve not even had time to come down from your orgasm when Dean rolls you both over, so you’re on top and he’s on his back, a cocky smirk on those perfect lips of his. You slump forward slightly with your hands on his chest, still panting hard.

“So sexy when you come for me,” Dean purrs as you start moving your hips over him, rocking back and forth.

“Love your big cock, Dean, fills me so good,” you whimper, already feeling another orgasm burning just out of sight.

Dean brings his legs up higher on the bed, so his legs are spread slightly behind you. Your nails bite at his skin when you start to rise and fall over him, feeling his thickness fill you and leave you repeatedly, quickly picking up speed. Dean cups one of your breasts and pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The slap of your skin against his mixes with your moans and whimpers and Dean’s grunts and groans.

“Gonna make me come, sweetheart, so fuckin’ close. Can’t wait to fuck you full baby girl, you’d like that wouldn’t you, huh? Wanna feel my come dripping from this tight little cunt? Wanna remember who made you scream like a little slut while we’re drivin’ home, don’t ya?” Dean all but growls, snapping his hips to meet yours with the end of every question. His fucking mouth and his perfect cock have you close to losing your damn mind.

“Yes Dean, please. I want it, wanna feel your cock for days. Give it to me, Dean. I need it, please, only a little slut for you,” you whimper feeling your arms shake as he pulls you flat against his chest.

His grip is unyielding as he grabs your ass tightly in those big hands of his, “gonna fuckin’ ruin you princess, ain’t nobody gonna fuck you like me.” He grunts possessively as his hips begin to slam up into you at an inhuman rate. You’re sure your heart is about to thud out of your chest, all you can hear is Dean and the blood that’s rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you out of nowhere, squeezing tight around Dean’s throbbing cock. White light explodes behind your eyelids, but Dean doesn’t stop moving until you’re practically shaking on top of him, feeling his come trickling down between you.

“Fuck.” You gasp against his sweat slick chest, feeling his fingers running through your hair as he shushes you.

You’re surrounded by him in the best way, and you can feel your body beginning to calm down.

“One word for it,” he chuckles breathlessly, before finally opening his eyes and looking at you.“You okay?” he asks, voice still deep and thick with something so sexy you involuntarily shiver again as Dean rolls you both onto your sides.

“Best I’ve ever had,” you tell him honestly, watching the grin that spreads across his lips. “So, are you finally gonna quit acting weird around me?” you ask with a teasing smile.

“Probably not, sweetheart. You drive me crazy, in every way possible. Anyway, can’t be that bad if it got us here,” Dean grins, pressing a chaste kiss your lips.

“Well, I guess you got me there. You ever want another massage you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I will definitely be taking you up on that.” Dean smirks pulling you against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Now sleep, we’ve got an early start. I wanna see if we can make my memory foam remember you too.”

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[beatleszeppelin]

You're A... Inexperienced Chapter 2

Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience.

Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol’ time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 3k

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2 Naked in a Lake

The next few days were fairly uneventful. Seeing Daryl only in passing. He stayed outside when you were in; you stayed outside when he stayed in.

Not even shifts brought you together. Since the fall of Woodbury, there have been plenty of new people taking shifts to give you all a break.

Most of your time was spent helping with the kids in the library when Carol was too busy doing important things to “babysit”. Or you occasionally helped out at the farm on the south side of the prison. Rick and Hershel had started it over the past few months, and already it had yielded some fine meals.

Those meals were also made courtesy of Daryl, who went out into the woods on the daily, not going far, but far enough to be out all day and come back with a belt full of squirrels and rabbits by night. You had no idea how he did it or how far he went, but he seemed to be used to the days of solitude, in nature alone.

That was all until he planned to go out a bit farther, only for a couple days, but that was more that he had been gone in a while, more than anyone had been alone for a while. When he shared these plans, you decided that you would go out hunting with him, you know, because there is safety in numbers, (and you were dying to see what he spent so much time doing everyday).

So when morning came, and it was time to leave you brought your bag and followed him to the gate. He squinted at you being blinded by the morning light that rose over the prison. “I’m coming with you, is that alright?” You asked him knowing that he couldn’t argue. You awaited his response, but it never came, instead he had the gate opened and held his arm out like a gentleman letting you lead.

You guys walked past the spikes that guarded the outside of the gates, just as the queens guards once did outside of Buckingham palace. Kicking rocks and dust clouds along the path, walking went fairly slow. Not much to say, not much to do this early in the morning. You hadn’t even waited for Carl and Carol’s shift, which normally signified morning, to start before you had left. (You were sure he had said good-bye to them, Rick, and Judith the night before though. He was good like that.)

When the sun, which was barely peering over the land when you left, had risen enough to give you a long shadow, stretched out in front of you; you decided it was time to eat. Taking the backpack off your shoulders, and unzipping it when it was in front of you, you pulled out a small loaf of bread. You broke it in half and handed some to Daryl. He gnashed into it like a rabid dog, grunting a thank you in between bites.

You nibbled off bites as you walked, trying to savor it as something to do. The scenery of trees and a dirt path was getting old. You couldn’t understand how someone could go out along this path all day every day.

It was hot, too. Hot and sweaty. By mid-day you felt as though you were dragging, lifting your legs in a pedantic manner. Daryl’s hair was stuck to his forehead, and he had stripped his poncho, just left in a cut off flannel. He seemed to be perfectly fine in the heat though, barely even touching his water.

You wonder if he stayed outside a lot before as well. There’s something about him that makes it so hard to imagine him in his house, in a domestic setting. Did he do the dishes, and make himself food? Was his room clean, did he make his bed every morning before work? Did he have a job? What did he do? But you know that wondering these things will only pass the time, because there is no way he’d ever casually mention his previous life.

People had tried guessing, to no avail. Beth’s new boyfriend, Zach, was the leader of the guessers, being followed by the children, and you’ve even discussed it with both Michonne and Carol before. It would really take something special to make him confess his stories to someone, who knows who could get that close to him though.

You spent the majority of your walk picturing him in an office setting, wearing a tie and answering phones. Or at a gas station glaring at little kids who try to stuff candy bars up their sleeves, scaring them into obeying the law.

Mechanic seemed to fit best. Not a sleazy mechanic that finds more things to break to get

some extra cash, but one that spends day and night tracking down an original piece to some old beat up motorcycle. He wouldn’t charge extra for labor, cause he’d be doing the thing he loved most. He would treat each bike as his own, tirelessly making it perfect until the finishing pieces were in their exact place, like the sprinkles on a sundae.

“Gonna cut into the woods, right here.” He nodded, directing you.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you said, snapping out of your little daydream. “Ya’ okay?” He ducked down, meeting your eyes though his hair.

“Yeah, I’s just thinking.”

“‘Kay, just watch out in here. Can’t make too much sound.”

You walked through the dense forest, making as little noise as you possibly could. Heel, toe; heel, toe. Only cracking branches and crunching leaves every few steps, listening to Daryl’s deep steadying breaths in between.

He taught you how to lay traps, and snares; different knots and when to use them. By the end of the day you could set your own, with the reassurance that he would help kill whatever you caught. No matter how many walkers you would kill, and how much bad shit you’ve seen. It still felt weird killing animals to eat.

The trapping, and mapping out your paths came to an end as night fell. The darkness made it too difficult to achieve the superb knots you were tying, and the sub par snares that Daryl would set, so you two decided to call it a night, sleeping in shifts back to back.

The next day went the same, but it was now time for the actual hunting. You left the killing to Daryl, using your lack of a silent long range weapon, like the crossbow as an excuse. You guys sat up wind, and out of the line of sight of any animals that may pass. It was quiet, and you understood why he liked it.

Hunting wasn’t all killing like you had imagined; hunting was 99% sitting quietly in nature, 1% killing.

You can’t lie about the fact that when a deer came into sight, you closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the click of the trigger on the crossbow. You didn’t want to see the animal die, but you can’t feel bad about how many people that deer could feed.

Daryl took care of the dirty work, cleaning, and “prepping” the deer to be taken home. You sat by and watched.

Once the task was complete, you started back for the prison, hoping it would cut some of the time of the walk back tomorrow. This time was cut short by the approaching darkness of night.

You two set up a small camp to spend the ever closer night. And with cans on strings, as tripwire, and your backs to each other, you two felt it was safe enough to get some rest, that was until the cans rattled.

The sounds of metal clanking, shook you from your not so deep sleep. You whipped around to see a walker reaching over your barricade of tangled fishing wire and old soda cans. It stumbled over and grabbed Daryl's boot, luckily he tied up his pant legs with cords to keep from being scratched. You scrambled over to a half awake Daryl and pulled his knife from his pocket, stabbing it into the undead's brain. He nodded graciously as you handed his knife back. You both sat still in the early hours of the morning, breathing heavily until your adrenaline died down.

Your eyes stung from lack of sleep, but it was nothing compared to how Daryl looked. His eyes were puffy, and had dark purple craters around them, and what little you could see of his eyes were bloodshot. His hair stuck up in every which direction, the bangs that normally cover his face, were defying gravity, and exposed his forehead.

“You can sleep, but let's face each other this time,” you planned.

“You sure?” he said groggily.

“Yeah, if you saw yourself, you’d be sure too.”

He scoffed, and pulled his vest out as an acting pillow, tucking one arm under it, and laying his head down. He fell asleep shortly, and you watched.

The expression he made was soft, and innocent, less like a child and more like a puppy that tired out running in a field all day. He subconsciously held his thumb to his mouth. He breathed heavily through his mouth, with quiet snores escaping occasionally.

You didn’t sleep at all that night, you couldn’t let anything disturb the peace. You weren’t tired, though, you actually felt like you had gotten a full night’s rest.

The two of you started home at the crack of dawn, with dull yellow light illuminating the grass you stood on. You took to the woods for your trek home, rather than the long road you took to get there.

Halfway through the day you happened upon a lake that looked beautiful, a direct juxtaposition to everything you had been used to seeing. The water sparkled, and light refracted off the ripples in every which direction. Birds made chirping sounds that echoed through the dense forest, and made a song through the trees.

Daryl grabbed a plastic bottle, and some of the sandy silt that covered the edge of the water, making a makeshift water filter. As he did so, you took off your shorts and threw them aside, wading into the water. The water was greenish, but you could see your feet, and the dust clouding around your steps. The water was warm enough to not give you the chills, but cool enough to be refreshing.

Once the water hit your hips, you took your shirt off and threw it a few feet away from Daryl, joining your shorts, and shortly after your bra. You watched him finish his contraption and fill it.

“Should have some water in an hour or so…” he looked up and saw you, then quickly looked back at his bottle.

“Maybe we could catch a fish or something, too,” you said, smiling at his back. “You should join me in here.”

“Nah” he shook his head.

“Yeah, when was the last time you got cleaned up?”

“I ain’t gonna, someone needs to be a lookout.” He looked up at you, standing his ground. “Anyway, I gotta piss.”

He started walking away and you yelled to him, “Yeah, sure you do, Dixon.” You splashed his way, but he had already walked behind the trees.

A noise came from your left, behind a couple of thick trees. Two walkers stumbled out, slipping on the sandy hill. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and getting back over to your clothes seemed like a death wish. They were closer to the clothes and things than you were. Daryl didn’t even have his crossbow with him, it was in the pile next to the water filter.

You yelled for Daryl, hoping he’d get back before the walkers could reach you. You yelled again, and it drew their attention. They were about at the edge of the water now, and you were fucked… but a whistle came out of the woods.

Daryl showed up and whistled loudly to catch the attention of the dead walking toward you. It worked. They started toward him at a slow pace, and you ran over to the pile of stuff. You picked one off with the crossbow. Daryl tripped backwards on a rock, and the walker stumbled towards him, wishing to bite into the leg that was trying to kick it backwards. He grabbed the rock, lifted it over his head, and smashed it down onto the walker, and hitting it again smashed his head open, covering Daryl in it’s blood. He leaned back and dropped the rock. He took a second to catch his breath.

“Hey, thanks” You said to him as you were naked and dripping like a wet dog.

He sighed and raised his eyebrows. Which you will take as a “no problem.”

Daryl’s hair dripped with blood, guts, and rotting chunks of flesh. His shirt was wet, red, and sweaty. The muddy sand covered his pants and hands, leaving him dirtier than before.

“I guess you have to join me now” you said, still mostly naked.

He begrudgingly kicked off his boots, and slid his vest off down his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He started walking to the edge of the water, when you had to stop him.

“What, NO!” You said haulting him, “You are not still wearing your socks.”

He took off his socks, and his pants. He walked into the lake, a couple feet in and the water hit the bottom of his shirt.

You never took Daryl as the type of person to not be okay with taking his shirt off, but here he was: standing in a lake with his shirt on, contemplating whether he should take it off or not. He stood there for a couple seconds before looking at you, and when you gave him a reassuring smile, he took it off. He looked good with it off, you didn’t see a problem, until he turned around.

He whipped around fast to throw his shirt on land, and as he did, you saw his back. He was covered in scars. Yeah, some could be new, from fighting, from surviving, but you take it he’d been surviving for a lot longer than the rest of you had.

The slashes that riddled his skin were old. He could have gotten most of them when he was still a kid. You swallowed hard, he turned and faced you but neither of you met each other's eyes. He got quiet. And as his hand pensively rubbed the back of his neck, as he thought about what you must think of him.

“Hey, come on in the water’s fine,” you said to ease the tension.

It seemingly worked, because the next thing he did was dive under, swimming to you in a second. The water rippled along the path he had swam, and broke around his emerging body. You met his eye. He nodded to you as a thanks, and you shook your head back at him in a no problem kind of way. This practice had become routine, it was easier than constantly owing thanks to the other person for some trivial task such as saving their lives.

He broke eye contact and looked down, “Still gotta piss.”

You snickered. Then stepping back a couple of feet you gestured for him to go right ahead.

He looked at you, head cocked a little, and then the realization hit and his ears turned bright red. He turned around, and you got a better look at his scars. Some were short slashes, some longer, and others crossed over each other. You couldn’t fathom the person that would hit a child, let alone Daryl; Daryl was sweet, and could never have done something that deserved this treatment.

He finished up and faced you, but didn’t meet your eyes. You got a look at him, the man that just pissed in the pool in front of you, his ears were red as well as his cheeks making a bridge across his nose. The blush trailed down to his upper chest in splotches, like watercolors splaying out.

He chewed the corner of his thumb and said, “Ya’ know, I used to piss the bed as a kid.”

“I mean we all did,” You said. “Come here.”

He complied, “Nah, I mean ‘til I’s like 8 or so.”

“Bend over,” you told him.

He leaned back and you started washing his hair for him, detangling it with your fingers, and picking things out of it like you were monkeys.

“I remember a couple times it happened, had to sneak out late at night and do my laundry in the bathroom, so no one’d hear me. But this once, my dad wasn’t home so, I didn’t get… but my mom had this whole ‘nother way of doing it. She took my clothes. Pinned me down, Merle helped. She put a diaper on me, made me sleep outside.”

“When you were 8?” You cupped some water and dumped it over his head.

“Uh huh, made me wear ‘em to school, too. Under my clothes. Said if I took ‘em off she’s gonna tell my dad, so I didn’t.” He went back to biting his thumb.

“That shouldn’t have happened to you,” you said, moving to wash his shoulders.

He shrugged, and flinched away when you ran your finger over a scar on his back.

“You know, stress and trauma cause children to start wetting the bed later on in childhood, it's called enuresis, it wasn’t your fault,” You splashed water on his shoulders, noticing the freckles made by the sun.

“Done?” He asked, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Am I done?” he asked and shook his hair out like a dog.

“Yeah, you’re good.”

Daryl quickly made his return to land, you however stayed in the water until the filter was done giving you each a bottle. Every once in a while you catch him glance over at you floating naked in the lake, but his eyes would quickly divert.

[mshomestyle]

I'm feeling some slight angst. How would Baku feel if he was a major reason as to why his daughters deaf and she's not even 7 yet?

So. She's about 1, and she's out with daddy at a park when a villain attacks. He pulls her tight to him to protect her obviously. The villain has some kind of long range quirk and he let's off an explosion to deflect it, but his baby is too close to him and with as young as she is and as loud as that explosive was so close to her head, she ends up losing all hearing. He finds out that she's deaf now when he and the Mrs take her to the doctor to figure out why she's not reacting to them. We all know he's gonna feel like shit but like... how would that go? Like what's he feeling/thinking when he learns this?

This might be a little too much detail, but I was watching some movies and some shit just came together in my head. Like oooh what about x lmao 😂

Totally understandable if you have no idea what to do with this. Its definitely an odd request

Oh, that is certainly angst.

 Bakugo causing his Young Daughter to become Deaf [Head Canons]:

-It was early one weekend morning, and since his baby girl was up and a bit fussy, Bakugo decided to take her out to the park, letting you get some much needed rest.

-It was a lovely day. Not too hot, not too cold and after a nice time on the swing set, Bakugo’s daughter cooed happily as she sat on her daddy’s lap, enjoying the close contact.

-Bakugo jingled a toy in front of the one year old’s face, watching her cute reaction to it.

-All seemed to be going well, and before the hero could wonder if he should get his baby some ice-cream or not, screams were heard.

-Several people grabbed their children and ran as a villain, whose quirk was making big balls appear, was thrusting them into people’s direction.

-How dare he interrupt the otherwise peaceful day?

-Quickly and angrily, Bakugo shot up and sent loud, destructive explosions the villain’s way, and made short work of him.

-The police arrived soon afterwards, and as Bakugo was giving a report about what happened, his baby girl started to wiggle, getting a bit fussy again. “It’s alright,” he said, calming her down with pats to her back.

-After everything was said and done with, the hero took his daughter back home where you were making lunch.

-It all seemed to be fine...at first that is.

-Bakugo’s baby girl used to love to watch her evening shows before bed and to be read a bedtime story. However, she didn’t react happily at all when those things occurred. Instead she wiggled and whined, rubbing at her face and ears.

-”Hey, sweetheart, do you want some milk?” you asked, picking up the little girl.

-She usually practically went ape-shit with giggles and coos at the word ‘milk’, but there was no reaction this time.

-Something was wrong, so Bakugo suggested that your daughter be taken to a doctor.

-He was worried as to what it might be, but still had hope that he would be told this was normal as children grow.

-When he found out the truth of it all, his heart sunk.

-”Her eardrum has ruptured,” the doctor was quick in his explanation, and while Bakugo wanted a second opinion, he knew that this was the truth.

-And it was all his fault.

-You were a trooper. On the car ride back, you searched up sign language classes on your phone, spoke about the possibility of surgery, talked about a trip to recovery girl, etc. You went into complete mom mode, but all Bakugo could do was blame himself.

-”So, what do you think, Katsuki?” you asked.

-”...this is my fault...All my fault...,” he murmured.

-”What?” you asked.

-”A few days ago at the park. There was a villain, and I carelessly took him down with my explosion while holding [daughter name]...I caused this.” Bakugo wiped at his eyes, trying hard to focus on the road in front of him. “I’m the reason our daughter is deaf..and she’s barely even two years old...”

-”Katsuki...,” you spoke softly, biting your lip.

-Bakugo wanted you to yell at him. Say it was all his fault, tell him to never set off explosions again, just anything really due to how horrible he was feeling. How could he be so careless?

-While he didn’t know what you were thinking, he knew one thing for sure. He was never going to set off an explosion around anyone ever again.

[vive-la-revolution]

Let me start with the statement, the fact, that birds are dinosaurs. Not relatives of the dinosaurs, but living, breathing dinosaurs. Yes, it is taught that 66 mya, all the dinosaurs went extinct. Oh, and if you didn't know, 66 million years ago is the correct date, not 65 mya. More accurate tests have been done since the original tests and the number has been refined. This, while not wholly wrong, is far from the truth. Yes, most of the dinosaurs went extinct, but some of the paraves managed to survive and rapidly diversified to fill the niches left.

Well, that's all fine and dandy, but how can I say with such confidence that birds are modern day dinosaurs? How we know this?

The first major player in this long and winding road is the Archaeopteryx. Please ignore that I can spell it right off the top of my head. Now, this dinosaur was discovered in Germany and immediately caught people's attention. What was it? A bird with a bony tail and teeth? With fingers that had not been fused into a wing as we know it? It seemed the perfection fusion between a dinosaur and a bird, a so-called "missing link." Side note - "Missing link" is an outdated term and frankly makes no sense. But now is not the time nor place for a digression. Archaeopteryx caused a stir, and rightly so. Oh, there were people claiming it to be a hoax, as there always will be, but it was not. Archaeopteryx was the first solid bit off proof for the connection between birds and dinosaurs, and is unspeakably important to our modern understanding of dinosaur to bird evolution.

This is the fossil. It's quite beautifully preserved, with individual feathers able to be discerned. It's one of my favorite fossils simply for how beautiful it is - the Tyrannosaurs specimen named "Black Beauty" is another of my favorites - never mind how crucial it is.

Enter Bob Bakker.

He was among the first to envision the dromaeosaurs as swift, agile hunters versus slow brutes.

His drawing of Deinonychus is quite famous, featuring a scaly and active predator. Now, we know now that it was fully feathered, but this was a huge step in the right direction for paleontology. And you can see the year he drew it - 1969. For that year, his depiction is wonderfully accurate. No, it's not at all perfect - The head is all wrong and the wrists are pronated and it lacks feathers and the body is too short - but it's still wonderful.

This is the best to-life restoration of Deinonychus we have today. Compared to Bakker's, the differences are clear but the similarities more so. An active, agile hunter well deserving of the name "terrible claw."

But how do we know that dromaeosaurus were feathered? Has there been enough evidence for it to say that all dromaeosaurs were almost certainly feathered? Well, yes! Straying into more familiar territory, an arm bone of Velociraptor was discovered with quill knobs on the bone! Quill knobs are the anchor point for pennaceous feathers, of which flight feathers are a part of. So there's some pretty hard evidence right there. And a small dromaeosaur known as Microraptor has also been preserved with a full coat of feathers. The most noteworthy feature of this little guy was its four wings. It had pennaceous feathers on its fore and hind limbs. There's still a lot of debate over how it would've flown - like a biplane or flat? - but for our purposes, that is inconsequential. This is another dromaeosaur with a full coat of feathers. Those are only two instances that I know off the top of my head and I know for a fact there's more, but it's not too much of a stretch to say that other very closely related animals also would've been feathered. Currently, it is most popular to depict them with a full coat with bare areas around the snout and feet, but for the most part, we don't know.

Now, this is where we throw in some cladistics and phylogeny. This shit gets really complicated really fast so I won't bog you down with too many details and just stick to the names and explain them in simple terms. This is not because I think you're not smart enough to understand it, simply that this is not the best format to explain. Wikipedia has some cladeograms (here's the relevant one) you can look at that are pretty easy to navigate and use and to understand.

Paraves are the group of dinosaurs that're more closely related to modern birds than to oviraptosaurs. This encompasses a broad swath of animals that are not relevant to us at the moment. Avialae is a clade within the paraves that is all modern birds. Phylogenetically, what placing avialae within paraves means is that the paraves are the closest relatives to the avialae. Now, lots of different methods - generics, looking at fossils and comparing, etc - were able to place avialae there. So. Paraves is a group of dinosaurs. Avialae is within paraves. Birds are dinosaurs.

Birds are dinosaurs.

It's been fourteen years, and those words still never fail to excite and inthrall me. Dinosaurs. These wonderful little dudes most people don't give a damn about are part of the most famous lineage in Earth's history. They're dinosaurs! You can go to a pet store!! And buy a pet dinosaur!! And nobody's stopping you!! You can own a dinosaur!! As a pet!! I own a pet dinosaur!!

Now, these are just examples from within paraves. I could go further out, to the Tyrannosaurs, to Sinosauropteryx, to Anchiornis, but this is long enough without those included. I bid you adieu, now.

holy shit tracyn that is genuinely FASCINATING OMG

the amount of time and dedication put into this is a level i hope to achieve

[irelanddesires]

Trioblóid

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Fluff, eventual smut, guns, violence, the usual gangster stuff.

Summary: Moving to Birmingham YN was lost. Tommy is still stuck in the tunnels in France. Will this match lead to ever after or utter devastation? 

A/N: Okay so this is literally the first thing I’ve written in probably 2-3 years. I’m trying to get back into the hang of things but it’s been really hard. Sorry if this is shit. <3 This is only part 1, there will be more, not sure how much more but at least 2 more parts. 

You hadn’t grown up in a city like Birmingham. In fact, the place you grew up could probably fit in a city block of Birmingham. Your mother and you had just relocated to the area a few months ago. You both had escaped your awful excuse of a father and husband during the night. You used the darkness of night to hide who you were and where you were going, stowed away in the back of a truck with animals heading to the city slaughterhouse. Once the truck reached the city you both had bailed, walking the rest of the way. You had been lucky enough to find a home for rent at a price that you could afford. Your mother had been skimming money from your father for months preparing for this. You didn’t have much but you had enough to survive while you both looked for work.

Within a few days your mother was lucky enough to find a job working in a bakery. You were still looking for something but in the meantime you were able to handle anything around the house while your mother was away at work. You hoped that this was only the beginning to a new, safe life.

The stairs creaked as you came downstairs, your mom long gone to work. Today you needed to tidy the kitchen before heading to the market to get food for the week. Making your way through the sitting room and into the kitchen you noticed the sky seemed to be darkening in the west. 

“Shoot” you muttered. 

With the possibility of rain you had to make a change of plans. Getting food for the week couldn’t wait, at this point you barely had anything at all in the fridge and would need to make something for dinner. Gathering your cash and bags you hurried from the house. The market wasn’t too far, only about a half hour walk from home. Usually this gave you time to bask in the sun, which was a rarity as it is, and interact with others if the possibility arose. 

Today would not be a day you could stroll to the market while having pleasant conversations. With the clouds blowing in and the air already feeling like rain you knew you had only a brief amount of time until it would start. You prayed it wouldn’t really rain until you could make it home. You made record time arriving at the market and quickly scanned the shelves and grabbed everything you would need for the week. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N” the cashier said and I began placing items onto the counter. Even with Birmingham being so large it felt so small sometimes. The shop owner had been in the neighborhood for generations so he seemed to know everyone, even the new people in the neighborhood. 

Pleasantries were exchanged before the shop owner had you all checked out and ready to go. Stepping outside you cursed as a gust of wind almost toppled you over. The sky had darkened significantly since you entered the store. You knew you would probably get drenched on your way home, causing your mood to sour. If only you hadn’t chosen this morning, out of all mornings, to sleep in just a bit. 

Walking back through your neighborhood was eerie. The sky was dark above you, matching the black of the buildings and street. The only nearby sounds were of your heels clicking against the brick sidewalk. It seemed like everyone had disappeared leaving you to hustle home alone. Thunder rolled in the distance, 

“Oh fuck” you muttered, quickening your pace. 

Rain isn’t unheard of in England, in fact more often than not it rained. Being caught out in a storm is a whole other story, one she didn’t want to experience. Her feet ached as she pushed herself harder, hoping she could make it home before the food she carried became soaked. Rain didn’t really mix well with bread and flour. With only your mother being able to provide for the two of you, it made things tight with money and there really wasn’t room to replace ruined food.

As the first few drops hit the ground you tucked your chin down into your jacket and wrapped your arms around the bags you were carrying, hoping that you would be able to shield it for the most part. The wind whipped around you sending your hair flying in all directions. The coolness of the wind broke through your jacket causing chills to run down your spine. If the streets before were eerie, they were down right scary now. No one was around, no person, no animal moved. Turning the corner you sighed, your house wasn’t too far from here, just another block and a right turn. You might be lucky after all you thought. 

Before you had a chance to relax at being so close to home a clap of thunder boomed in the sky above you like a bomb and rain began to fall as hard as you’ve ever seen it. Between the wind, rain and your hair covering the majority of your face you had no idea how close you were to another person until you collided. Your breath oofed out of your chest at the force of the collision, bags falling from your arms, before you could topple over arms came around you holding you upright. 

“You alrig’ love?” a deep voice caressed you. 

You don’t know what you were expecting to see when you looked up but piercing blue eyes weren’t it. The stranger’s eyes were beautiful, so blue you felt like you could swim in them. Your eyes wandered across his face getting lost in the chiseled features you found. His voice brought you back to reality,

 “Love? You alright?” he asked again. 

You suddenly realized how close you were, his arms wrapped around you in somewhat broad daylight, anyone could see. You quickly stepped out of his embrace and cleared your throat before answering, 

“Yeah… Yeah I’m fine.”

Looking at your feet you saw all your groceries strewn across the black cobblestone. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, bending to start picking up all the food and stuffing it back into bags. 

The stranger crouched across from you and began helping gather what was left in another bag. You both stood and the stranger lifted your bag back to you, amusement across his face. 

“Well I’m glad someone found this amusing” you snapped

Curiosity flashed across his face but the amusement never left his eyes, it was like he was in on an inside joke leaving you dripping wet and angry at the ruined food in your arms. Sighing you went to apologize for colliding with him but he quickly held up a hand silencing you. 

“No apologies. John will see you home safely and you can send me a bill for what was ruined.” 

You hadn't even noticed someone else was there, casting a quick glance behind him you saw another man dressed in the same fashion leaning against a car. His expression must have worn the same shock yours did as you looked at one another. You thought over it for a few seconds before turning your attention back to the man in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you agreed with a nod. 

Before you could process what was happening the man, John, was ushering you into his car. He had taken your bags from you and placed them in the back seat. He came around the car and hopped in the driver's seat before taking off down the road. He inquired about your address but that was the extent of your conversation. 

John dropped you safely at home and even helped carry a bag inside. You shouldn’t have felt comfortable with either man, just looking at them you could see that they carried demons. 

That night, laying in bed, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering toward the mysterious blue-eyed man and how hauntingly beautiful he was. You hoped you would have the chance to run into him again, just to see him again. Your mind traveled to wicked thoughts as you drifted to sleep and thought of those blue eyes.

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 6

chapter index

Inuyasha walked carefully, the sun beginning its descent through the sky. He’d taken off from the spot of the attack quickly, but after so long, he couldn’t bring himself to keep the same pace. Not only was he physically drained, but the poor girl draped over his back wasn’t fairing too well. They’d had to stop three times so she could vomit. Kagome would apologize profusely afterward, crying, and Inuyasha felt absolutely awful.

Just in case, he’d asked if she’d eaten anything that had upset her stomach in the time since she left his side. She said no. He asked if she was sick before issuing her attack. She said no. He figured as much, but he had to be sure.

She trembled the majority of the way, doing her best to hang on as tightly as she could in the beginning, but now that he merely strolled, mindful of each step, Kagome sort of just slumped against him. She seemed to have calmed considerably, her burning cheek resting on his shoulder, fingers gently grasping him, and legs swaying with each stride. She wasn’t asleep; he could tell. She was still aware, she just didn’t have the energy left to keep her head up. And, who could blame her?

Thankfully, as of right now, he didn’t sense a single demon from before. They hadn’t followed. Yet, at least. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a chance it would happen, but the two of them would be hidden when and if they caught up to them.

He could finally see the little town he’d been heading toward up ahead. It wasn’t very lively. Never had been. It was quaint and sort of homey, but every person that lived there was wise to understand how not to attract attention their way. More importantly, they knew how to handle the attention that did stir up. It was why he frequented the place when he needed to lay low. The inn, the inn keeper, provided a safe space.

“Hey,” Inuyasha spoke softly, shifting his head to watch Kagome slowly raise her own to look at him. “Can you walk?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, voice raspier than ever thanks to the stomach acid that had charred her throat.

Inuyasha kneeled down, allowing her to dismount him. He was quick to stand and face her, holding her arm in case she got dizzy and lost her balance. She was still so pale, the sclera of her eyes pink, and the flesh of her lips muted in shade.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Her tone held no conviction. Again, he couldn’t blame her. She obviously wasn’t fine, but he took her statement to mean she wasn’t currently feeling too nauseous to handle.

“My friend is in the town up ahead, alright? She’s gonna help us, and you’re gonna be safe there. We have to bring as little attention our way while we walk through, though. Think you can handle pulling it together for ten minutes?”

Kagome nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She appreciated his firm hold on her. The wooziness was kicking her ass, and each time she’d thrown up, she gradually felt weaker and weaker. Standing was hard enough, and walking was going to be a feat, but she could surely do it. Inuyasha saved her, kept her safe, so if he was asking her for a little help to insure things stayed mellow, she would pull through without a second thought.

“Need to get anything out of your system before we go.”

“Please don’t make me think about it.” Kagome groaned, cringing as her stomach churned.

“Sorry.” Inuyasha grimaced, holding his arm out for her. “Hang onto me, okay? I’ll get us there as quickly as possible.”

Kagome slid her hand around the underside of the hanyou’s forearm, taking the support he offered. There was a huge part of her that wished she could say she could walk on her own, but who would she be kidding? He knew as well as she did that she needed all the help she could get.

His muscles were firm, embracing the meager weight she leaned onto him. Still, Kagome made sure to stand up as straight as possible, swallowing any nausea remaining while she used her other hand to lightly smack her cheeks to bring a little life back into her face.

The walk through wasn’t difficult, and Inuyasha was proud of Kagome for appearing well and alight. Her head swiveled from side-to-side as she took in the sights of the town, the “cute” architecture as she put it, and even the cobblestone that she mentioned her village only had in certain areas; not all over like it was here. He could tell she wanted to move slowly, more out of how her legs wobbled than out of desire, but he found it particularly important that they get to the inn quickly, so he intentionally kept up a decent pace that he knew she could handle. Kagome didn’t complain. She didn’t grumble or whine. Though her body was protesting, she pushed herself to keep going.

“No talking.” He ordered just outside the door. He could hear the life from down the road, and though he knew it had to be coming from the tavern in the entrance, he still hoped it wasn’t. Not always was it rambunctious, but more often than not, the first level of the inn was spirited and loud. Kagome nodded, agreeing without question, and Inuyasha opened the door, guiding her inside.

The hanyou flexed his arm closer to his body, keeping Kagome near as he sauntered over to the edge of the bar counter. Most of the business was on the far side, not crowding the entryway, and the inn keeper seemed her usual level of unamused as she poured another drink. Catching the scent of a familiar demon, Inuyasha’s golden gaze landed on glowing, blue eyes, peeking over at him from his glass of ale. His long, brown hair was held in its usual, high ponytail, and as he set his cup down, watching him from the very corner of the angled counter, and arching a thick brow, Inuyasha spoke with just the steady shake of his head. Please, for the love of fucking god, not right now.

He felt a squeeze on his forearm, fingertips pressing into his skin, and Inuyasha glanced down at the woman by his side. He could see a thin sheen of sweat on her cheeks, her eyes cast downward, and her chest was rising as she took deep, controlled breaths. Fuck. She was feeling sick again, and this was her way of politely letting him know without speaking.

“Kaede.” He called. The young lady at the far end glanced over her left shoulder, and it was as if the moment she realized it was him her brows pinched together in conjecture. Her long, straight, dark brown hair was tied loosely in a low ponytail, strays falling free and framing her jawline, and as she turned away from the loud, drinking men to walk over, she revealed the patch that had sat over her right eye since well before he’d ever met her.

Kagome tried not to appear intrigued. This woman Inuyasha called to, Kaede, bore an incredible resemblance to Kikyo. It was astonishing how similar they looked, and if it weren’t for some obvious discrepancies, Kagome was concerned she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Kaede had a little more color to her skin, and wore her hair in a different style. It was a bit shorter, lighter in shade, and she was either missing her right eye or no longer had the use of it. A mere coincidence was all it was; it had just caught her off guard. Given that, her focus wavered incredibly, the dizziness fogging her head making it difficult for her to put any more thought into the inconsequential matter.

“Well, well,” She began as soon as she was close enough, her attention bouncing carefully between Inuyasha and the girl on his arm. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, yeah. No lip, Kaede.” Inuyasha groaned. He’d expected this. It was Kaede’s personal hobby to give him shit.

“Usually, you space out your visits better, Inuyasha. It’s been, what, two weeks this time around?”

“Look,” He leaned in closer, hearing Kagome’s thick swallow. “We need a room. With room service.”

Kaede understood the code he spoke, not reacting to keep suspicion at bay. She took one more glance at the girl on his arm, noticing her pasty skin that shined with dew. She kept a level gaze, one with a calm expression to accompany it, and Kaede could only tell something was definitely wrong with close studying. It was the way her fingers bit into the half demon’s arm, and the way her irises lacked glimmer. It was the way the hanyou allowed her to touch him, allowed her to be so close, and even so much as stroked the tops of her fingers soothingly. Nothing needed to be said more to express the urgency of the situation, and the code was taken to heart quickly.

She bent down, grabbing her guest book as per usual, moving as quickly as nonchalance would allow. This was customary, and Inuyasha was well aware. Still, he cleared his throat to push her faster and Kaede looked up at him to notice the steadfast stare he was giving. This was much more serious than she thought. She knew exactly which room she was going to put them in; it was one of the few designated for this specific scenario, so she pretended to look at the book for one more moment, scribbling down a quick, illegible note before shutting it, putting it in its rightful spot, and heading to the back for the key.

“Totosai, you’re up!” She shouted as she walked back out to the front, hearing the old man give a grunt of acknowledgement.

“What!? Kaede, baby, where you going?” One of the drunken men whined, pouting from the opposite side of the counter.

“Oh, hush. Totosai will be keeping you company for a while. I’ve got guests to tend to.”

“But, he doesn’t have tits!”

“Neither do I!” She laughed, gesturing to the small chest beneath her bodice. Her long skirt twirled slightly as she spun around to walk in Inuyasha’s direction, hastening her pace.

Kaede lifted the counter door to come out to the front of the bar, notching her head to the side for Inuyasha and his female companion to follow. They all kept quiet as they walked through the back doorway, down the hall, and up two flights of stairs, but from behind, she could hear Inuyasha whispering. Taking a little peek, Kaede saw the girl covering her mouth, seeming unsteady, nodding as Inuyasha spoke softly to her.

Inuyasha had grabbed Kagome’s hand as soon as he noticed she was struggling to keep her composure, allowing her to squeeze, the arm she once held onto reaching behind her back to support her around her waist. “Just a little further, okay? You’re almost there.”

“What the hell did you do this time?” Kaede ridiculed as she reached their designated room, sliding her key into the bolt.

“Open the door!” Inuyasha demanded, and Kaede threw it open, allowing them to rush inside.

Kagome was only able to make it to the small trashcan in the bathroom entry, crumbling to her hands and knees as her stomach twisted painfully to rid itself of the nothing it contained. Her throat burned horribly from the bile, and her chest and abdominal muscles ached from the heaving. Inuyasha never left her side, quick to scoop her hair out of the way.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She whimpered through her bodies unmanageable retching.

“It’s fine, you know it’s fine. You can’t control this.” He replied, taking the small break in her vomiting to pull her bow, arrows, and bag off of her shoulders, freeing the space of her back to rub as she coughed, shuddered, and wheezed. He muttered the rest of his reply. “Fuck, it’s gotta hurt by now.”

After shutting the door behind her, Kaede followed the two into the bathroom, her heart aching for the discomfort the girl on the floor was currently in. She was careful in her approach, grabbing a washcloth off the shelf and kneeling on the opposite side of her as Inuyasha.

“Sweetie, what happened to you?” She asked, but the girl heaved and couldn’t answer. Kaede’s hand flew to her low back instinctually, matching Inuyasha’s rhythm and rubbing gently. She redirected her question to Inuyasha. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“I’ll be one-hundred percent honest with you: I don’t exactly know, myself.” He admitted. It seemed Kagome was finally done puking, so he pulled the trash bin from beneath her so she wouldn’t have to look at it and released her hair, allowing it to sit along her back, shorter strands falling over the fronts of her shoulders with gravity. Kaede handed Kagome the washcloth, and she took it gratefully, wiping her mouth but remaining folded forward. She was so weak, her quaking muscles felt throughout her entire body, and Inuyasha couldn’t quite bring himself to take his hand off her upper back just yet. She’d thrown up five times, and the violent convulsing her body had been doing was ostensibly painful.

“Give me something to work with.”

“Alright,” Inuyasha sighed. Kagome wasn’t going to like this. In preparation, he applied some firm pressure on her back where his hand now braced against her, his other hand grasping her wrist to keep her glued to the floor. “She’s a conjurer.”

Kagome gasped, her attention snapping his way, and he was glad he’d pinned her the way she sat because he felt her arm jerk like she was about to hit him out of reflex. He was quick to speak, to calm her down, saying, “Kagome, I had to! Nothing’s going to happen! I swear!”

“Sweetie, it’s okay! It’s okay!” Kaede jumped in, now wary of how she touched the jittery girl before her. “You’re safe here.”

Kagome’s brown eyes landed on her, her plush, bottom lip quivering as her bloodshot eyes watered. The world was ugly, and Kaede could tell, much like everyone else nowadays, that this girl wasn’t spared from a damn thing. She felt the fear that she wasn’t born with, but was forced to learn in order to survive. It was crippling. It was debilitating. How could Kagome expect to trust a living soul when they didn’t understand the life she lived or the spirit she harbored? Kaede knew all of this from personal experience.

“Listen to me, I’m an ally. No one outside of this room will find out who or what you are, I can guarantee that. I know the importance. I used to have a conjurer in my family.” Kaede said, making sure her message was coming across clearly. She may not know what it was to be a conjurer, but she knew the details involved. She grew up with it all.

Kagome studied her, still trembling but gradually calming. “You did?” She finally asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.”

She said used to. Kagome’s heart twinged thinking of who could have been taken from her. Not even she was pardoned from the harsh reality that they faced. She couldn’t bring herself to say something aloud, though. She couldn’t imagine it was an easy topic to talk about, and as much as she wanted to express her sorrow that Kaede had lost someone she may have been close to, she just couldn’t right now.

Inuyasha’s grip eased off of her, his hand releasing her wrist. As soon as she was free, Kagome turned and swatted his stomach with the back of her hand, making him wince.

“A warning next time!”

“You would have just said no!” Inuyasha argued.

“I would have had every right to!”

“I’m trying to help, you idiot!”

“With proper warning, at least I wouldn’t have been caught off guard! I might have agreed if you had just taken a moment to explain things to me!”

“Go back to throwing up! You were surprisingly less annoying!”

“Oh, look at that! Your maturity level is showing again!”

“Shut up, dumbass!”

“Great comeback, genius!”

“Uh - hello?” Kaede chimed, interrupting their yelling match. As soon as Kagome’s head whipped her way to take notice, it seemed some dizziness caught her, her eyes shutting as she swayed slightly, and a small groan coming from her throat. Both she and Inuyasha reached to stabilize her, and it was easy to tell Kagome’s nausea was biting. Whatever energy she had remaining should not be spent arguing with this half demon nitwit.

“Hah! You can’t even fight back without getting sick.” Inuyasha teased, his arrogant expression falling as soon as Kagome shot a glare his way. He reached for the trashcan just in case, but Kagome shook her head, saying that she wasn’t going to throw up.

“Look, Inuyasha did the right thing by bringing you here.” Kaede spoke, taking away any opportunity from Inuyasha to instigate anything more with Kagome. “I’ve saved his ass many, many times.”

“Excuse you. You make it easy for me to lay low. I wouldn’t necessarily call that saving my ass.” He objected.

“The only reason you ever need to lay low is because you’ve pissed someone off and given them cause to hunt you down. The justifications don’t matter; the facts stand. For every action, there’s a reaction. And, that’s where I come in. You stay here so they won’t detect you while you’re vulnerable. Therefore, I’ve saved your ass.”

“You’re looking too deep, but whatever makes you feel better.” He huffed.

“You know what would make me feel better right now?”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes dramatically, grinding his jaw to the side and releasing a slow, grumbly exhale. He knew damn well Kaede was only going to tell him to stop talking, so he threw in the towel. She was good at winning arguments, and he wasn’t in the fucking mood for it. He leaned his back against the wall, letting Kaede’s attention fall back on Kagome.

“As I was saying, I know a thing or two about enchantments. I’m no expert, and if I’m being honest, my speciality lies in plants and their potentially-magical properties, but I get by enough for this inn, specifically, to be known as a resting point for those who need to take it easy. Not well known, of course. Couldn’t have that. But, known enough for some of the damned to wander through. Outside, there’s a deterrent. It sort of pushes all scents away and throughout town where it’ll dwindle, so if anyone is tracing you that way, they’ll lose it. I’ve also got a few, exclusive rooms, this one included, that have specially created flower bundles in the closets that mask the smell of the occupants. They’re not potent, so they neither harm the sensitive noses of dog demons, nor attract attention by standing out. They simply mask. Took forever to figure out the proper assortment, but I eventually got it.” Kaede shrugged humbly, hoping all these tidbits would help Kagome feel more secure.

“How did you learn all that?” Kagome inquired softly, pushing herself back to lean against the wall of the bathtub. Inuyasha bent forward as she did so, pulling her things out of her way to clear the spot for her.

“Well, I admired my sister for being a conjurer.” Kaede began to explain, smiling fondly. “She found out who she was in a time when it wasn’t kill or be killed, and she took every opportunity to learn what she could do from whomever could teach her. I followed her everywhere; it didn’t matter how much it annoyed her. I wished so badly to be like her, but of course that wasn’t possible. So, we found something else for me. Something I could teach myself along the way so long as I was disciplined and dedicated, and to be anything near resemblance of my sister you had to be. It’s not new age or modern practices either; I reached for the ancient texts that taught me things that seem to have been lost in translation over the centuries. That’s what helps me get away with it. It’s old magic, so it’s harder to figure out when you’re in the presence of it.”

Kagome gifted a faint smile toward Kaede. Truthfully, it was all extremely enthralling, and Kagome wanted to know more. She just couldn’t concentrate all too well at the moment. Asking for more details required a level of energy she didn’t currently obtain, and if she ever heard the expansion of Kaede’s background, she wanted to be perfectly cognizant. More importantly, she didn’t want to invalidate the message the woman was putting across. She was describing why Kagome was secure to let her guard down, she was being straight forward in letting her know that Inuyasha didn’t let her secret slip to the wrong party. He had reason, and he didn’t betray her. He’d brought Kagome to the safest place he knew of, and Kagome wasn’t unaware of how far he’d gone and traveled to bring them here. Shifting her head to the side, she transferred her grin to Inuyasha in a silent thank you. His head rested against the wall, his eyes hardly open and unfocused on her.

“So, you’re a conjurer.” Kaede mentioned, bringing the issue back to the forefront. “That doesn’t really tell me what happened.”

She waited patiently for either of her guests to speak, and Inuyasha’s eyes blinked fully opened, an arm perched on his raised knee.

“Again, it’s kind of hard to say. Everything happened so fucking fast. One minute I was being ambushed, the next I wasn’t. Kagome showed up and cleared the field.”

“Cleared the field?” Kaede asked, reaching for clarification.

“Yeah. She cleared the field. Not a single bandit left in sight.”

“What do you mean? How?”

“With an arrow.” He said.

“A-as in, one?” She switched her attention to Kagome. “Sweetie, you only used one arrow?”

“Mhm.” She hummed unenthusiastically. Kagome was so exhausted, so drained, that reactions were far from her reach. She could barely manage a nod at that point, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at the woman across from her. Within, she felt slightly bashful and still a little uneasy about talking about everything. She reassured herself that it was okay, though. She was safe. Kaede and Inuyasha were allies.

“I’m sorry, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around this. How many men were there?” Kaede asked, the look of shock written all over her face.

“Fuck if I know.” Inuyasha answered with a shrug of his brows. “A shit ton, and that wasn’t even all of them. A second wave was hiding within the trees.”

“Against one person!? What the hell did you do!?”

“Killed their leaders. They were rapists.” He stated simply.

“Oh. Fuck them then.” Kaede waved off, unsurprised and heading right back toward their main topic. “With one arrow, though? How did you do it?”

“I just did it.” Kagome replied.

“That’s - that’s incredible.” Kaede nearly laughed out of astonishment. “That’s so strong - you’re so strong. I’ve never seen that done. How long have you been able to do something like this, if you don’t mind my asking? This is just so fascinating to me.”

“Um -“ Kagome wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. She didn’t really know what she’d done to conjure that much power in the first place, so it felt weird merely taking credit for it even though it came from no one else but herself. The truth was all she could give, and as anticlimactic as it was, there was nothing more to it. “Since this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Kaede blinked, a little confused. “You’ve never done that before?”

Kagome hummed a no, adding a minor shake to her head.

“I’m sorry if this seems like an interrogation now, but um…” Kaede’s amazement waned as she digested what Kagome had just admitted. An entire series of new questions were coursing through her head now, empowering her need to gain a better understanding of Kagome’s power, what had taken place, and the reason for her current state. Truthfully, she was pretty sure she’d figured out the mystery already. She just wanted to be absolutely certain before saying it out loud. “You knew you were a conjurer before this, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve known since I was a little girl.”

“Okay, and I’m assuming you’re a practicing conjurer?”

“Yeah.” Kagome confirmed.

“What was your biggest move? By that I mean, how much power have you ever exerted at one time?”

Kagome was a little perplexed by that one, unsure how to answer. Was she looking for a percentage? Because, Kagome had no clue. She glanced over at Inuyasha, hopeful that he would be able to simplify the question, but he seemed to be waiting for her response just as much as the woman opposite her. “Like, how many demons have I exterminated at one time?”

“Sure.” Kaede complied, bobbing her head. “What’s the most you’ve taken out with one strike?”

“Three or four.” Kagome said. “Though, it wasn’t in the same manner as today. I didn’t just sweep my power through; I sort of skewered them.”

“Were they big?”

“I mean, in size, sure. They were long. They weren’t very strong, though. Most demons I’ve encountered and practiced on were incompetent. Not humanoid by any means. They were the mindless killing machines that flocked in pairs and liked to eat whatever they could encounter. Really gross-looking. Not too hard to take out. My cousin could kill some with just his hands and staff, if that helps paint a picture at all.”

“Not really giving yourself much credit, kid. Those fuckers are easy game.” Inuyasha said.

“I’m being honest. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve taken down larger demons, but they were alone. One at a time. I mean, even before I got back to you today, I took out three guys, but again, it was one at a time. That’s easy for me. I figured, the more I kill at one time, the more power I’m using, right? So, that’s my answer.”

“Wait, wait. You faced three demons before clearing the field!? Who?”

“No,” Kaede interrupted, holding her hand up toward Inuyasha so he’d stop talking. “That’s not important right now. Sweetie, did you just say killing larger demons was easy for you?”

“Oh god, no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it was easy, per se. I didn’t mean to sound so insensitive. Taking a life is never -“

“That’s not what she meant, dumbass.” Inuyasha interjected, rolling his amber eyes. “She was asking if it was an easy task. Like, does it make you break a sweat?”

“Oh. Well, no not really.” She said, her worry of offense fading away. She’d realized how what she’d said could be twisted to sound as if she were a heartless, killing machine of a conjurer, which would be painted dark, so she’d panicked that that was what Kaede had thought. The moment her concern was dispersed, she breathed out a sigh. “Not anymore, at least. I really utilized all of my time training on the lower-grade demons to figure out how much power is too much, how much is too little, so on and so forth. So, by the time I ended up incidentally facing my first - er - competent demon in a sense, I had an approximation of how much spiritual power I should need to eliminate them. I was wrong, of course. But, from that point on, I had a general idea of what to do and how to do it, so it got substantially easier. Why? Where are we going with this?”

“And, how much power was in that punch?” Inuyasha pressed.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for with that question.” Kagome huffed. “I can’t give you a percentage, because I apparently don’t know where one-hundred sits for me. I thought I was giving my all, but then today happened and Kaede’s been giving me that look for five minutes now.”

“It’s just - Kagome, has there ever been a time where you’ve been in a charged match and gotten exhausted or sick afterward?” Kaede inquired.

“Tired, yes. That’s kind of normal, though. It’s physical exertion. Sick, no. Never. Wait, are you linking the occurrences together?”

“Doesn’t it make sense?”

“I mean, I figured it was because I freaked out?” Kagome asked more than stated, completely uncertain of everything now.

“What?” Inuyasha’s expression twisted incredulously.

“Haven’t you ever been so nervous it made you feel nauseous?”

“No.”

“Well, lucky you. I have. I honestly thought it was the combination of the stress of being found out on top of all the horrible demonic energy in the air, and it made me sick.”

“Okay, that is a possibility. I won’t dismiss that.” Kaede said. “Or, it was because you pushed yourself way passed your normal limits and this is the backlash.”

Kagome looked at Kaede, waiting for further explanation. What did she mean by backlash?

“Think of it this way: Let’s say what you did to save Inuyasha was your one-hundred and what you’ve been doing averages between twenty and forty percent. You’ve never gone passed forty, but today, somehow, you jumped all the way to one-hundred. That’s more than just your typical, physical exertion. You completely depleted your body and took from backup sources you may have, as well. Keeping up?”

“I - I think so…”

“Any sort of power you have has to be maintained through exercise. Just like muscle and strength; it’s all in the same realm. You just need to practice what fits your needs best. You can’t just decide to get toned and go straight to lifting fifty-pounds. You have to work your way up. Start small and build stamina. If someone regularly lifts thirty pounds but then jumps for something significantly heavier, let’s say twice that, they run the risk of hurting themselves. Well, it’s unfortunately the same for those with supernatural abilities.”

“But, if someone tries to lift something out of their scale, they usually can’t. Like, those huge sacks of rice, for instance. It’s too heavy for me to carry. I can drag it, but lifting it onto my shoulders like my cousin is damn near impossible because I don’t have the muscle for it. So, how would someone go from thirty to sixty? In that same regard, how would I go from forty to one hundred?”

“If you’ve got enough endorphins running through you, you sometimes lose the ability to mind the boundaries your body sets. You don’t feel the limitations of pain and strain.” Inuyasha added.

“So, what happened, Kagome? What happened before you did it?” Kaede asked.

“I - I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” She answered, her brown eyes drifting to the bathroom floor beneath her legs.

“How the hell do you not know?” Inuyasha ridiculed. “It’s your body, your power, so where’s the miscommunication?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m doing my best, Inuyasha.” Kagome snapped back, glaring at the hanyou, nearly matching his tone and scorning demeanor. “I didn’t have anyone to help me while growing up. I had zero resources to learn from. When we found out that I was a conjurer, my family chose to shelter me. I was too young to understand, and I wasn’t the type to rebel, so I minded my father’s requests to keep it a secret. He was the only link to knowledge about my powers that I had because he traveled, and personally, I thought I was thriving. It wasn’t until I was around ten or so that I realized he was merely teaching me how to control, conceal, and channel it into my arrows. Basic-level techniques. After he died, and especially after Naraku rose to power, I took it upon myself to figure out what I could do, but that meant my one and only resource was trial and error. I will openly admit that I don’t know everything I should know, but I am also trying. I don’t know what I did because I had never done it before. I heard you were being attacked and ran to make sure you were okay. I saw you were swarmed and didn’t have your big, fancy sword, and I can tell you the only thing going through my mind then was that I didn’t want them to kill you. I felt something unrecognizable inside of me, but there was no time to understand it. If I had stopped to figure out where the sensation was coming from, you could have died So, I just went with it.”

Inuyasha stared at her, a look of disbelief on his face. He’d wondered how she’d known about his predicament in the first place, but he hadn’t found the opportunity to ask. Still, it wasn’t the right time to get all the details he currently lacked and desperately wanted to understand. Kagome had really ran to him to help? She didn’t want him to die? He could tell her passion was from her irritation with him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dumbfounded by her admittance. That didn’t mean he wasn’t awestruck by the way she heatedly expressed herself in the moment, despite her paled skin, dark under eye circles, and noticeable enervation. Despite the way she held onto her stomach and frowned at him, the way her bangs clung to her forehead from the sweat soaking her flesh, there was still a fire behind her vibrant irises while she waited for him to reply with an argument. He had none, though. His lips sealed and his cheeks flushed, feeling the newfound heat of his own face as blood rushed through, and he brought his hand before his mouth, looking away from her ardent gaze.

“So,” Inuyasha spoke, his attention now on Kaede. “What happens if she does more?”

“What do you mean?”

“Saying her attack today was her one-hundred was merely hypothetical. Truthfully, I think she’s got more potential than that.”

“Oh, I agree. For all we know, that could have been her seventy percent.”

“Right. So, what happens if she does exhibit one-hundred percent before she’s fully capable of handling it? What sort of repercussions would she be looking at?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. My knowledge is limited, and I never saw my sister do anything as strong as what you said Kagome had done. She’ll probably get incredibly sick; much worse than she is now. And, it’ll take a while to come back from it. Might even physically hurt her. Again, these are all guesses, so none of my answers are definitive. Hopefully, we’ll never have to find out.” Kaede answered. She watched Kagome nod in acknowledgment, her eyes closing as she sighed out and slowly dropped her head back to lay against the rim of the bathtub. The way her eyebrows pinched together slightly spoke of her concentration to subdue the nausea she was battling, probably inwardly pleading with her body not to puke anymore.

She took that moment to crawl a little closer to the girl. Very gently, Kaede placed her hand against Kagome’s cheek, feeling the scorching heat of her skin. Her palm traveled to her forehead to confirm her fever, then the side of her bruised neck. The poor girl was burning up, gaze half-lidded as she blinked her eyes open.

“Alright, first things first, we need to get you cleaned up. I’ll run a bath, and -“

“No, I’m fine. It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Kagome didn’t want to trouble anyone anymore than she already had. She just needed to sleep this off. If her body needed recuperation, then a bath could wait.

“You’re slick with sweat and dirt, Kagome. You’ve been physically ill. Please, just trust me. I want to help.”

“You’re doing what she says.” Inuyasha instructed, pushing himself to a stand as he grabbed her things to remove them from the bathroom. “You look about ready to keel over, kid. Let her help you.”

How did she get here? How did all of this happen? Since the day she’d left home, Kagome felt like everything had gone so wrong. It was all so close together, one thing after the next. Was this really what was meant to happen, or had she taken a wrong turn somewhere down Murphy’s Law Lane? Kagome swallowed thickly, but this time it wasn’t bile she suppressed. It was the unmitigated density of failure. It was the urge to cry, to damn herself, to give into the pressure of everything that had occurred since Naraku’s henchmen visited her village. She wouldn’t be in this position if she were stronger, if she were remotely as experienced as Kikyo was.

How could she have avoided this? What could she have done differently to prevent this outcome? How could she improve? Was this nature’s course, or was Kagome a basket case? All of this applied weight to her shoulders, her stomach, and she again swallowed, pushing the thoughts as far away from the forefront of her mind as she possible could for the time being. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment, and the last thing she wanted, on top of everything else, was for the two people who tried to help her see her breakdown.

“Alright, Inuyasha. I’ve got it from here.” Kaede assured him, smiling gently as she got the water flowing.

“I’ll be right out here if you need anything.” He said, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Once the tub was full and ready to go, Kaede assisted Kagome in getting undressed, unwrapping her bandaged hand, and getting her in the bath. The silence was a little uncomfortable, but nothing else could be expected. There was no need to force conversation or make Kagome talk. As long as her eyes were open and she was expressing awareness as she washed up, it wasn’t necessary to press her further for more. So, Kaede gently washed her hair, wanting to do anything she could to help provide a small sense of comfort for her.

“Do you have a change of clothes, dear?”

“Yeah. In my bag.” Kagome nodded.

“Inuyasha took it with him. I’ll go grab something for you.” Kaede smiled, heading toward the door. “You stay in the bath. I’ll be right back.”

“What’s up? Need something?” Inuyasha asked as Kaede came out and headed straight for Kagome’s belongings.

She sort of hummed a reply, not much of an actual answer though as she shifted through, pulling out some clothes. “None of these look very comfortable. Does she not have pajamas?”

“Given her circumstances, I don’t think she planned for comfort. I’m thinking she was leaning more towards practicality.”

“Her circumstances?”

“She left home. Long story. Not mine to tell.”

“Gotcha. Well, she’s bedridden until further notice, so practicality is out the window. I’ll go grab her something of mine real fast. Can you listen out for her in case she needs anything. The door’s cracked, so you can hear better.”

“Mhm.” He grunted, pointing to the ears atop his head. Opened, closed, didn’t matter. He’d hear her. As Kaede left the room, Inuyasha propped his temple up with his fist, his elbow resting on the arm of the cushioned seat he took residence in in the corner of the bedroom.

If he was exhausted, he could only imagine the deteriorated stamina of the human in the other room. A conjurer. She was a fucking conjurer. Guess she really wasn’t joking when she said she could take him. If she could empty a large area full of enemies, he wondered what she could truly do. If Kagome was fully trained, confident, and as powerful as she was meant to become, what were her limitations - if any? He was colored impressed, intrigued, and also a little terrified. Not because of what she was. It was because of her strength, the head on her shoulders, and very clear level of determination.

He knew there was something more to her, he knew his gut hadn’t led him astray. It was never wrong, she was just good at keeping secrets. According to her, she’d had plenty of practice with this particular one. And, she’d only let it slip in order to save his life. She’d made that sacrifice despite her own potentially being on the line. Kagome was undeniably brave, and when he thought deeper into it, Inuyasha could see just how mentally strong the girl had to be. He wondered what made her head out on her own. Was she actually looking for somebody? If so, who? What sort of business was this conjurer up to? What had she been through?

Truthfully, that’s what scared him. The answers to those questions. From her, he expected nothing but some impactful response in the fewest words imaginable. He didn’t know a damn thing about her character other than her attitude, and yet he was still capable of saying that he’d never met anyone like her. It unsettled him. It made him uncomfortable to think highly of another. Especially in such a short amount of time. He wanted to continue on thinking she was just another weak human. He wanted to go forward believing she couldn’t take care of herself, that she was a magnet for trouble, that she was nothing short of sloppy, and stupid, and reckless, and while some of that may actually be true, an uncontrollable part of him attempted to dissuade those thoughts.

From his spot, the smallest sniffle reached his ears. It was trembling and hushed. It was broken, the shuddering inhale proceeding it grasping at his heart. And again, the question presented itself to Inuyasha. What had Kagome been through? What broke her right now? Was she hurting? Scared? For the first time in ages, Inuyasha felt sympathy for another. He wished whatever pressed her in this moment lifted. He didn’t want her to feel fear, he wanted her to believe them when they swore she was safe and protected. He didn’t want her to feel pain, because that’s all he’s seen sketched on her flesh since he’d met her. Inuyasha sincerely wanted Kagome to rest, to trust him, to feel comfortable, and to heal.

Kaede returned promptly, and Kagome cleared her tears, rinsing her face with the warm water she soaked in.

“What’s that?” She asked, noticing the garment that Kaede unfolded and set out.

“It didn’t look like you had anything comfortable to sleep in, so I went and got you a night gown of my own. Hopefully it fits you.” She smiled. “Come on, let’s get you dry.”

Grabbing a towel, she helped Kagome out of the tub, allowing her to dry herself off as she stabilized her. The gown draped down to her shins, the sleeves ending at her forearms, and the white complimenting her sweetly. She’d definitely sleep better in this than she would in a tight pair of pants. Kaede took to drying Kagome’s hair, really ringing it with the towel until she got the majority of the moisture out. The last thing they needed was for her wet hair to get cold and potentially worsen her fever.

“Thank you so much for this. All of this.” Kagome softly spoke, her lowered gaze communicating her bashfulness.

Kaede brushed the girl’s hair behind her ears, replying with a gentle grin before grabbing her hand to slowly guide her out of the bathroom and to the bed.

Inuyasha stood in case they needed help, having personally witnessed firsthand Kagome’s unsteadiness, but Kaede got the blankets pulled back and helped Kagome move on her own just fine.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a bit with some food and medicine. Inuyasha, you wash up next. You stink.” Kaede said.

“Dick.”

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s what you smell like. The musty kind that hasn’t been washed in -“

The hanyou groaned loudly to cut her off, shoving her head aside as he stomped past her and into the bathroom. Kaede laughed, turning back to make sure Kagome was comfortable before heading out of the room.

For the moment, it was quiet. Kagome could feel her body sinking into the bedding, but she was blisteringly hot beneath the layered blankets. As much as she wanted to let go of her grievances and close her eyes, ignore the burden of her fever and just go to sleep, her stomach twisted and bunched painfully, making it impossible to relax. As if she wasn’t uneasy enough as it was, her body seemed to have a goal to worsen the experience for her. Why was it that when she overextended herself, she got physically sick? What an abnormal reaction to have. Sure, if someone pushed themselves to run a faster mile, they could potentially throw up. But, have flu-like symptoms? Unheard of. Being a conjurer was weird. Supernatural powers were weird. Everything that was happening to her, all weird.

Taking her mind off of the sleep she so woefully wanted, Kagome raised her left palm to take note of the progress of her healing cut. It really wasn’t all that bad anymore. She was glad there were no signs of infection. It wasn’t very pretty, the edges of her nicked flesh harboring a bit of pink coloration, but it wasn’t bleeding or oozing anything, so that was definitely a good sign. She’d give it another two days before she didn’t need to bandage it up any longer. For the meantime, she should take the proper precautions to keep it improving.

She moved slowly, minding the weakness of her muscles as she sat up and uncovered herself, moving her legs to sit on the edge of the bed. Kagome stood to cross the room to get to her things, pretending the dizziness wasn’t there, pretending the room wasn’t wobbling from side-to-side in the slightest, taking one firm step at a time.

“Hey!” Came Inuyasha’s loud voice at the halfway mark, and Kagome froze, jolting slightly from how direct his shout was. She’d almost thought he was behind her for a moment, but after glancing around, she realized he was yelling from the bathroom.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome asked timidly.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“What - the fuck - are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” She wasn’t even raising her voice to make sure he heard her through the walls. That sort of energy was out of her reach. She was indisputably confused, though. Why was he yelling at her? What was wrong?

“You’re out of bed. For what?”

How the hell did he know? Could he actually hear her with those ears of his? Were they that sharp? Or, was he just paying such close attention to any sounds of movement that he caught the pads of her feet hitting the wooden flooring? Or, both?

“I wanted my medical kit. I need to wrap my hand.” She responded with a little more tenacity in her tone.

“Is it bleeding?”

“No.”

“Then get your ass back in bed. It can wait.”

“But -“

“Lay down.”

“Inuyasha -“

“Lay down!”

Kagome groaned and she did it loudly, stomping her feet as she went back to the mattress and plopped her butt down. Was it childish? Absolutely. But, she hoped each noise she’d intentionally made hurt his stupid, dog-like ears. Woozy repercussions be damned.

She adjusted the pillows against the headboard so that she could comfortably prop herself up, sitting back against them and pulling the horribly hot blankets over her legs again. She was old enough to know that it was best to stay covered while you had a fever, but that never once stopped her from wanting to kick them off. With everything irritating her right now, her head beginning to throb, Kagome felt the aggravated pout form on her face. She’d never been the type to like to stay in bed and wait out an illness. Her brother could sleep for days and be perfectly comfortable, but she hated not being able to do basic things to take care of herself.

“God, you’re such a baby.” Inuyasha murmured, coming out of the bathroom moments later. He wore the same pants as before, but was shirtless, water dripping down the ends of his long, silver hair and over the skin of his chest. He used his towel to rub through his tresses, and thankfully his amber eyes were aimed at her things while he crossed the room so he wouldn’t notice the way Kagome glanced at him only to quickly redirect her gaze at the surprise of his half-naked appearance.

The fever was going to her head. Had to be. Her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own as they drifted over to his back as he passed her, taking notice of the swell of his defined muscles while he walked, crouched down at her bag and dug out the box she’d wanted. She appreciated the way little movements made him flex, the way his physique contoured when he stood, even the definition of the arm he used to dry his cleaned hair. It wasn’t until he turned back to her that she noticed the cut on his shoulder, deep and angry and swollen. Little bruises littered his flesh, small scrapes adorning his sides and the right half of his chest. He hadn’t left the battle unscathed - of course, he hadn’t - and she felt horrible for just now noticing.

“Your arm.”

“It’s fine. Give me a sec and I’ll bandage your hand.” He said absentmindedly, dropping the kit on the far edge of the bed as he sauntered back to the bathroom.

“But, doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not really.” He replied from the other room.

“Rotten liar.”

“I’m not lying. I can barely feel it.”

“Then let me look at it.”

“You just saw it.”

“No, I mean let me look at it.”

“Hang on.” He said, ringing his hair as dry as he could before pulling it back into an untidy ponytail. Inuyasha came back out and presented the cut to Kagome, sarcasm written all over his face as he gestured to it carelessly so she could see, and then reached over to grab the medical supplies to completely disregard his wound.

“Inuyasha, you know what I meant. Let me see it. Please.” Kagome tried, biting back the annoyance in her tone. With a huff from the half demon, he sat down beside her, allowing her to get a good look at the wound on his shoulder. While she had the chance, she jabbed her finger just above it, receiving the full reaction she’d expected as he jerked away with a pained groaned, snatching her hand with a vice grip. “Looks like that hurt.”

“Fucking duh!” He snapped.

“I knew you were lying.” Kagome giggled lethargically.

“You’re not supposed to touch it!”

“You should let me bandage it up.”

“That’s not necessary.” Inuyasha said with clenched teeth, tossing her hand away. “It’ll be gone by morning.”

“I know you have the ability to heal faster than humans do, but I still think this will last a solid couple of days. Everything else will be gone by morning, sure. But, this? Probably not.”

“That doesn’t mean it requires bandaging. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

“It’s still prone to infection.”

Inuyasha scoffed.

“Want me to poke it again?”

“Do it and I’ll poke your stomach and talk about vomit.”

“You fight dirty.” Kagome grimaced, protecting her core. “Just let me -“

“No.”

“Please?”

“Why?”

“I want to help.”

“I don’t need any.”

“Looks like you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Please?”

“Oh my god, Kagome.”

“Please?” She knew she was aggravating him, and as good as she didn’t feel, it was hard to hide her grin. Every huff of irritation he gave, every scrunch of the skin between his brows from the way they furrowed together, and every roll of his eyes was amusing to her right now. He was reaching his limits, but he wasn’t going to snap. He was going to fold.

“Will it make you shut up?”

“Yes.”

“I really don’t need it.”

“Please?”

“Stop it.”

“Ple-“

“Jesus fuck, just shut up and do it already.”

Kagome beamed with a prideful smile, taking the kit from him and reaching for the cleaning solution and cotton balls. “Jeez, if you wanted me to bandage you up so bad, you should have just asked, Inuyasha.”

The hanyou slowly turned his head to look at her, an infuriated expression written into his straight-set lips and glazed, amber eyes.

“I’m kidding, I’m sorry. I’m shutting up.” She promised, laughing but also taking his warning to heart.

He didn’t say a thing while she cleaned his wound. She knew the solution stung only from the minor flinch in his muscles, but other than that, he stared at the ground, allowing her to work. Kagome didn’t expect nor need any form of gratitude from Inuyasha for dressing his wound; she’ll admit it was more for herself than him. It made her feel more comfortable knowing his chances of infection were slimmed down, and it also made her feel better contributing to anything she could in her debilitated state. Maybe he knew that was what she wanted which is how she could tell he was going to eventually let her bandage him up. Or, maybe she just genuinely annoyed him and he truly did want nothing more than to silence her. Either way, when he addressed her with a mere shrug of his brows as she finished, Kagome wasn’t offended.

She didn’t wait for him to take anything from her to wrap her hand. She could do it on her own, and she took to cleaning it out. Inuyasha remained beside her, watching her struggle a little with the bandages and anticipating a reason he’d need to interfere and take over. When she gave him none, the hanyou reached up, pushing her bangs aside to place his palm to her forehead.

“Fuck, you’re burning up.” He commented. “How’s your stomach?”

“Hurts. I’m queasy, but I don’t feel like I’m about to throw up.” She responded, putting everything back into her kit and shutting it.

“You should lay down.”

Kagome shook her head, slightly disgruntled. “Not comfortable. Don’t want to.”

“Alright, whatever. But, after Kaede comes back with medicine, I don’t want to hear it. You’re going to sleep.”

“Mhm.” Kagome agreed. It was fair, and she really did want that much. She was so unbelievably tired, her body just ached. The sooner she laid down, the sooner she was going to be completely covered by blankets, too. With only half of her body covered, it was sweltering enough. The last thing she wanted was to be buried within the heat right now. On the other hand, she was grateful she wasn’t battling chills on top of it all.

A knock on their door was the only warning that Kaede was entering before she opened it up, carrying a tray with two bowls and a couple containers on the side. The girl set the tray with all of its contents on the little table beside Kagome, handing a bowl to Inuyasha and waving him off.

“Rice and chicken for you.”

That had to be the happiest Kagome had ever seen the half demon, even as he was pushed aside and dismissed to eat his food across the room. He even gifted a “thanks,” before digging in to eat on the cushioned seat in the corner.

“Where’s your shirt?” Kaede asked speculatively.

“It’s torn and has blood all over it, so it’s soaking in water. As much as I trust your witchcraft bouquets, I don’t want to take chances of my blood attracting the wrong noses.”

“Fair enough. I’ll go buy you another from the shop in town tomorrow morning and add it to your tab. Pink would look nice on you.” She teased.

“Yeah, so would that dress you lent Kagome but I would only end up showing up all the women in town with my gorgeous looks, so make it black.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kaede rolled her eyes and smiled, her attention falling back to her task. “Alright, sweetie. You’re totally gonna hate this, but please just trust me, okay?”

“Uh oh. What are you about to make me take?” She grimaced, eyeing the little containers.

“One of these is for nausea. Tastes awful. The other is to break your fever. Tastes worse and will make you super drowsy pretty quickly. After the medicine, you’ve gotta eat, which I know is probably the last thing you want to do. It’s the only way to keep your strength up though, so you’ve gotta stomach as much as you can. It’s soup and it’s light, so hopefully it won’t upset your nausea too bad before the dose kicks in.”

“Great.” Kagome remarked sardonically, her lack of enthusiasm painfully obvious. Just the smell of food was causing a lump in her throat to swell, an unsettling feeling blooming, but she swallowed it to the best of her abilities.

Kaede opened the first container, a little bottle, pouring a thick liquid out onto a spoon. “Don’t spit it out, okay?”

“That bad?”

“Horrible.”

“I appreciate the warning.” Kagome cringed, mentally preparing as she welcomed the spoon into her mouth. The taste slid onto her tongue and it was a disgusting mixture of spice, what you would imagine manure to taste like, something metallic, and a hint of grape. It took so much, almost too much, willpower to swallow, a burning sensation gliding over her tongue and down her throat, and Kagome brought her knees to her chest as she fought back a whine, burying her face in the blankets that draped over her legs.

Inuyasha chuckled at what he’d seen of the girl’s ghastly expression before she’d dramatically hid it, but prior to anything funny or sarcastic he could say, Kagome shot her middle finger up in the air at him. It only made him laugh harder, snorting slightly, but he shut his mouth and refrained from teasing her. Lord knows it would only send her over the edge.

“Here. Water.” Kaede offered. “Just take a sip.”

And, Kagome did just that, hoping the liquid would wash her tongue of the horrid taste. It did not.

“Ready for the next?”

“You said this one is worse?”

“Sure did.” Kaede grinned apprehensively. She shut the nausea medicine and opened up the small container at its side. It was a fine, tan powder, and Kaede took a sheet of paper she’d folded in half, distributing a healthy amount within the crease. “You have to hold this one under your tongue until it completely dissolves. After, you’ll get the soup and forget all about this torture.”

“Until you have to do it again in the morning.” Inuyasha teased a little too happily.

“Shut up or I’ll make you take some.” Kaede reprimanded.

“Not on your life.”

“Try me.” There was something about the calm way she threatened him that actually made Inuyasha uncomfortable, and he heeded it, once again silencing himself as he shoved a spoonful of rice and chicken in his mouth. Kaede was completely human, petite in stature, and looked sweet as can be, but she had the attitude that helped her keep up with your average man. She’d grown up alone for the most part, never let her handicap of one eye slow her down or hold her back, built her business from the ground up, and Inuyasha respected that enough to know that she could put him in his place. She’d done it before. The girl was tough as nails and had to be in order to run the inn that she did, giving a place of refuge for those in need and defying Naraku and his henchmen. He may be physically stronger than she, but still, he’d prefer not to test her.

“Alright, Kagome. Open up.”

Kagome did as she was told, lifting her tongue and allowing Kaede to slide the powder beneath it with the thin, creased paper. At first, it wasn’t so bad. It sat beneath her taste buds, so the worst part was the bubbling of the powder as it mixed with her saliva. But then the saliva rose around the sides of her tongue to pool on top, and the taste hit her. Immediately, it tested her gag reflex, but she resisted, swallowing profusely as she, yet again, buried her face in the blankets on her knees. Kaede soothingly rubbed her back, coaxing her with hushes and apologies. It tasted worse than the bile she’d vomited. It tasted indescribable, and gingery, and pungent, and she wished, as each second passed, that it would just finish dissolving already. It brought tears to her eyes, her nose sniffling from the spiciness, but she waited, and waited, and fought back her nausea, and swallowed over and over and over until the powder was completely gone.

“Here you go, sweetie. Take a bite; it’ll help.” Kaede offered Kagome her food, pushing it closer to her on the tray so she could lean over and take a spoonful in her mouth.

Inuyasha wouldn’t deny that he felt sort of bad for Kagome after that one. As she sat up straight to come out of hiding, taking deep, concentrated breaths to calm herself down before slurping a little bit of soup, he saw some pink on her cheeks. He knew it was an inadvertent reaction to the medicine, but it was still nice to see color on her face again. He knew it would wash away momentarily, her pale features would return until the remedy kicked in, but it was still nice to catch a glimpse of the woman he’d seen just that morning.

“Better?” Kaede softly inquired after Kagome swallowed some soup. Her shoulders had sunken back down, her muscles unclenching, and she hoped the bowl of broth and vegetables was enough to quell the awful taste Kagome had had to endure.

She nodded, swallowing thickly. She was grateful, so grateful, for the flavorful and hot liquid that rinsed away the medicine, but that didn’t mean her stomach was very accommodating to it. With just the few things she’d swallowed, the organ churned and clenched painfully, threatening her to push it all back up her esophagus, so Kagome knew the last thing she could do if she was going to keep the medicine down was eat too quickly. She decidedly set the spoon down to give her body time to steady.

It wasn’t the first Kaede had noticed the markings around Kagome’s neck. She wasn’t blind or daft; she’d seen it the moment she saw the girl standing beside Inuyasha at the counter. Gently, she hooked her finger beneath Kagome’s chin, tilting her head back so she could get a better look at the handprint that encircled the front of her throat.

“Is this from today?”

Kagome’s brown eyes didn’t hold against her own, shying away though she didn’t pull her chin out of her meager grip. In answer, she shook her head.

She didn’t want to talk about it. Not again. Please, not again. Not right now. In no way, shape, or form was she in any mental condition to think about the little conjurer who’d died so violently. She didn’t have the capacity to handle hearing the mother’s screams echoing through her head, to revisit the day she’d watched the light fade from those innocent, blue eyes. Kagome was already battling with herself and how she felt like an absolute failure, and the last thing she wanted was to have each letter tattoo’d into her skin as she recalled how she failed to protect the young girl.

Kaede reached down, holding and examining Kagome’s bandaged hand, remembering the small wound she’d gotten a brief look at along her palm.

“What happened to you, Kagome?”

“Kaede.” Inuyasha’s voice was low but firm. It was both an instruction and warning. He was protecting Kagome, and Kaede swallowed the remaining curiosity she had. He’d mentioned Kagome had left home, mentioned it was a long story that wasn’t his to tell, and considering he seemed to know it well enough to remind Kaede to respect the invisible boundary was all she needed. She wasn’t one to intrude, and the last thing she wanted was to make things worse for Kagome.

“Never mind, sweetheart. Forget I asked.” She smiled compassionately, releasing her as she walked over to the closet. She slid the door open, pulling out a futon and setting it out along the floor. She grabbed a blanket from the top shelf, unfolding it and laying it on the futon, and then grabbed an extra pillow from the shelf, as well, to drop on top. “Inuyasha, your bed.”

He grunted as a response, and Kaede understood the weak excuse of a thank you. “Do you need anything else?”

“Nah,” He shook his head. “Go tend to the pigs downstairs. Let me know if any of them want to get handsy.”

“I can handle it.”

“I don’t care.”

“Go to sleep, you look like a mess.”

“You’re mouthy tonight. Fuck off.”

She giggled, rolling her eyes, taking his empty bowl, and ambling back over to the sick girl. “Kagome, sweetie, please eat as much as you can. Don’t worry about the dish, I’ll come back in the morning and grab it when I check in. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you.” She smiled appreciatively. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Kaede left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her, and Inuyasha was quick to follow over, locking it. He picked up the trashcan on the far side of the bedside table, dropping it closer to Kagome. “Just in case.”

He turned before she could thank him with a grin, walking away and heading straight for the curtain-clad window. The moonlight hit his face as soon as he pulled the edge of the curtain back, eyes studying the outside world, and she wondered if he was checking to see if they were followed. Inuyasha stood there for several minutes, analyzing the streets, his good shoulder leaning against the wall.

Thankfully, her stomach had settled a bit, and Kagome found it a good opportunity to try another bite of her soup. Her muscles still trembled unsteadily, the bowl proving to be heavy, but she clutched it carefully and used her legs as a table for stability. The food was good, but her body really wanted to reject it. The smell of it, as homie as it was, was enough to cause her abdomen to tense rigidly, and even the broth hitting her tongue was sufficient in making her throat warn her that if she pushed herself too much, she was going to end up losing everything she’d just consumed. Just to say she tried, Kagome took one more spoonful in her mouth, avoiding the actual bits of vegetables and just swallowing the broth. That was it; that was all she could handle. So, she put the bowl back on the nightstand and rested her head against the headboard.

Inuyasha watched the streets below cautiously. There wasn’t life out; they were empty, hazed in a blue provided by the night sky and the full moon. The unfortunate reality of being safeguarded by Kaede’s deterrents was it worked both ways. Demons hunting them down would lose their scents, and he couldn’t smell them coming from within the barrier either. It was hard for him at first to really let down his guard, to be completely vulnerable, but just because he didn’t have one of his senses didn’t mean he couldn’t rely on his others. He could hear plenty, and he trusted that if anyone got inside, he’d catch them coming before it was too late.

A soft sigh caught his attention, and Inuyasha glanced back over to Kagome on the bed. Her eyes were glazed over, almost closed, and she seemed to be slumping down in her spot. Kaede wasn’t kidding when she said it was quick.

“Lay down, kid.”

She looked over at him wonderingly, blinking sleepily before sluggishly scooting her butt forward so she could lay down properly. She was struggling to readjust her pillows, and Inuyasha couldn’t help but chuckle before heading over to assist her.

“Jesus, this shit’s really kicking your ass.”

“She said - she said it would be fast.” Kagome mumbled.

“Mhm.” He agreed, slipping his arm around her side to help support her weight as he fixed her pillows. Kagome’s feverish head rested against his shoulder, and he slipped his hand behind it as he slowly laid her down. “She didn’t mention how strong it was though, did she?”

Kagome hummed a no, sinking into the bedding.

“You’re so pathetic.” Inuyasha joked lightly, pulling the blankets over her upper body.

“Am not.” She muttered, eyes closing. “Saved your life.”

“I saved yours right back.”

“Not.”

“Alright, alright. Go to sleep, you dummy.”

He left her alone, sauntering back over to the window to watch out for a while before he’d give in to his own fatigue. It was silent. Comfortable. Kagome’s rhythmic breathing was considerably soothing to him compared to the discomfort she’d been in for hours.

“Inuyasha,” The conjurer breathed, and his ambers eyes darted over to her resting form. Her eyes were still closed, blankets raising with each inhale from her chest, and even though she was shadowed, he could still make out her pale skin.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” She murmured, bringing a slight flurry to awaken in his chest.

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