When Mark Was Six, He Told You He Loved You.

when mark was six, he told you he loved you.

you never really grasped what ‘love’ meant during those early, innocent times. your parents say they love you whenever you bid goodbyes going to school. your grandma used to tell you she loves you because you’ve been a good kid. so you told him “i love you, too!” with a grin plastered on your face, and mark felt his face go warm, a slightly pink flush on both of his cheeks.

when mark was eight, he said he wanted to be a writer.

he fully pledged it in his middle school yearbook a year before. an author, he wrote. you challenged him a bit. “write something for me then!”. young mark, full of determination, handed you a piece of paper at the end of the class. Roses are reds, Violets are Blue, …… I guess …… I love you ! - it was unfinished. cue the excessive punctuation marks and misplaced capitalization of letters, too. it was valentine’s day. and when the whole class knew mark loved you, he never got away with the teasing. you still had no idea what it meant, though.

when mark was twelve, “i’m gonna be famous!”, he shouted to the whole world.

you saw him pick up the guitar that he borrowed from his dad. he flicked a few strings. “congratulations, mark!”, you said. “thanks.”, replied. “what’s wrong?”, you saw how his smile slowly turned into a bit of a frown. “i’m going away,” he said. you patted him on the shoulder, “my mom said we’re all meant to, mark.”. oh, you thought, how early was it for you both to know the concept of separation. how unfortunate it is, sometimes, to be needing to grow up early.

when mark was sixteen, he took a good glance of a glimpse of his future.

flashing lights, cheering crowds, fans following him around—the fame he has worked for four years—the dog days, the sacrifices, the longing for familiarity in a city of uncertainties and foreign—are finally going to pay off. his cheeks hurt from smiling. he was more focused than ever, like a hungry animal preying for success. “i always knew you were made for somewhere else”, you thought while seeing the news around home that mark is on his way to making his name.

but as years passed by like a blink of an eye, mark finally had the chance to rest, to go somewhere. but he didn’t know where else to go. from living in toronto, to vancouver, to some few years somewhere in queens, and now, in unfamiliar cities he wake up to, he never had the chance to sit still and think of this: he never knew what home felt like.

when mark was nineteen, he made his way to his old house.

relatives greeted him. old smiles and familiar warmth overwhelmed mark. oh, how lovely it is to grasp a sense of familiarity. trains and 156 buses, his smile beamed when he reminisced middle school. “remember when…”, it was all his tongue could say. laughter filled the dining area where he and his siblings often had their silly whip cream-face-smearing fight, but his joy slightly faltered when he passed by an abandoned house, just five blocks away from his house. an abandoned, almost small-framed bicycle sits on the front porch. it was the bicycle you would ride whenever mark knocks at your very doorstep to go to the nearest town and buy potato chips.

he remembers when he was thirteen and packing for his flight the next day, he asked you: “do you think we’d forget each other?”

“i think you would.”, you replied.

“i would never.” mark reassured you, but you’ve heard stories of your mom and how her college best friend suddenly fell apart. nothing in particular, it’s just life and how we go separate ways—it’s inevitable. people say i love yous to their loved ones, reassuring them the warmth and proximity will stay, but as the sun rises, for mark, there will be great emptiness as he is forced to remove himself and start anew.

“why do you think so?”

“because i love you.”

and for you, love has changed its definition instantly. it was a time when a great consciousness arise. you understood how he truly meant all these years. you said it back as you also meant every single syllable. love, for mark, was meant to be fireworks and giggles. but by the time he boarded the plane, you kissed his cheek, his first love started and ended on the very same day.

now, mark, twenty-three, almost has it all.

he has been writing for years. he isn’t still an author, as he has told you, but sure what he writes comes along with the melodies he produces with his co-artists. he has been contented with his lifestyle, going to different countries, and working with unpredictable schedules. sure, he has established a name in the industry, working like a mad dog, but something still bothers him inside, something missing, lacking.

tonight, he writes in a local coffee shop as he waits for his manager to arrive, a practice that keeps his feet on the ground. scribbles, blurbs, drafts of lyrics, all embedded in his journal—and after a while of connecting the dots to construct who he really is and where he would position himself in the vast ocean of possibilities, he may have finally struck something that hits closer to his definition of home.

i just wanted you to know, mark writes to you, who have always been his muse through and through, to tell you that i have been happy during our years together, that i have never been so happy despite what i have gone through and achieved, and that i already know i will never be so happy again.

and as mark closes his messy, worn-out black journal, the bells rang as someone entered the door.

mark watches you walk in and towards the counter. he would have so many questions as to why you are here and when you have arrived. but reserve it for later because as you find a table you could sit in, you locked your eyes with his—so familiar, so distinct, so… inviting. almost home.

lost for words, mark stared at you. blinking like a fool. he must be dreaming.

but the doubts of the fantasy dissipated.

“hey, stranger.”, you said. “do you think we still know each other?”

a smile so warm, so loving, proximity that is so close—these are things he has lost over the years, now sitting in front of him, embodied by the epitome of his long lost love.

and mark always firmly believed in this, and today, he was never betrayed by his beloved: fate.

home, all along—he thought, is wherever i’m with you.

sleepyhead. (version two.)

in which you can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, at the most unconventional of places, which is how the traveller and paimon find out about your relationship with him.

pairing. alhaitham, lyney x gn reader

tags. fluff, slight(?) crack, established relationship

notes. i wanted to write an alhaitham & lyney part for this idea that day but got tired so i dIDNT but here they are <3 also mightve sorta gotten carried away at lyneys part...

neuvillette & scaramouche vers.

“Paimon's so tired she could sleep for days,” Paimon complains, flopping against Lumine's shoulder. She points at someone off to the side. “Like that person over there! Paimon doesn't know why they don't just go inside their house to sleep, though.”

Lumine turns, curious. And there you were, slumped in the corner of the porch, clutching a lunchbox in one hand with a few books balancing atop it.

“Wait, isn't that Alhaitham's house??”

It was.

“Why's some random person sleeping on Alhaitham's front door? Let's go check them out!” Suddenly re-energized, Paimon floats over to your sleeping body.

You donned the uniform of an Akedemiya scholar, and on closer inspection, the books you held were on a variety of topics. Architecture, astrology, marine biology...? Lumine was vaguely reminded of Layla.

“We should wake them up. Alhaitham surely won't be happy to find someone in front of his house like this.” Paimon then glances around surreptitiously, voice lowering into a hushed whisper. “Plus, if they wake up when Kaveh comes home...”

Lumine sighs, giving your shoulder a gentle shake. You don't stir, not one bit. She moves to try again, crouching down to your level when—

“Don't.”

Paimon shrieks.

“Don't scare Paimon like that!” she whines, whirling around to face Alhaitham.

Lumine stands herself, tilting her head to the side curiously. Paimon asks the question for her. “Why not? Do you know them? Don't tell me you're friends — Paimon thought you didn't have any friends! Ahem. No offence.”

“None taken,” he says.

The most oddest thing happens then. He stoops down, a hand around your back, the other supporting your legs. He picks you up easily, and you only snuggle closer toward his chest, as if on instinct.

“Help me pick their things up. Thank you.”

“Wait, so you know them?” Paimon chirps in, filling the silence with ease as Alhaitham unlocks the door, allowing everyone inside.

Alhaitham nods. “I do. In fact, we are partners.”

“Like, in work or...?”

“As in romantically.”

Lumine studies the position the both of you were in. Your head buried in his chest, his arms tight around your figure. He raises an eyebrow, ever so slightly challenging, and she decides to say nothing. Aw, it seemed Alhaitham did have a heart.

Paimon shrieks, again. “You?! You're dating someone? How?!”

“Please keep your volume down,” he tells her, setting you on the couch softly. With an imperceptibly fond glance thrown your way, he admits you do not get a lot of sleep.

“Oh, sorry!” Paimon whispers. “But — but how?”

Alhaitham shrugs, the picture of nonchalance, but there is a tilt in his lip that hadn't been there before. “I have been told I make a good pillow.”

“Lyney's so cool, Paimon wonders how he does all his tricks!” Paimon gushes. The praise is not unfounded — that performance still had Lumine's head whirling. Paimon hums, “Do you think he'll tell us if we asked? He did so the last time...”

She shrugs in reply. It was worth a shot.

“Then let's go find him!!”

They turn backwards, walking down the steps toward the backstage — Lyney and Lynette would definitely be there still. The Opera House had already been cleared of anybody minutes ago, awestruck audience leaving the scene babbling away about the show.

Except for one last person.

Paimon frowns, pointing at someone in the front row seats. You're curled up in the cushy chair, fast asleep. Paimon tutts. “How could someone fall asleep during Lyney's show? It was so good!”

Lumine shushes her. There wasn't any need to comment about anyone else. They had to find Lyney, after all.

“Lyney!!” Paimon calls, peeking a head in. “You have to tell Paimon how you did those tricks!”

The magician in question turns, smile widening at the sight of them. “And if it isn’t my two most loyal fans! I'm afriad I must disappoint you, a magician never reveals his secrets.”

“Hello, Lumine, Paimon,” Lynette greets them. “We're about to have lunch at the cafe. Would you like to join us?”

“Food!” Paimon squeals, eyes shining now. She nods eagerly.

Lyney laughs smoothly. “Let's be off then! We mustn't let my darling be waiting too long. If not, they might just asleep.”

“That reminds Paimon! There was someone sleeping in the front row — the front row!” Paimon huffs, kicking her feet. “So rude! Your show definitely wasn't boring enough to sleep through.”

At this, Lyney and Lynette share a glance. Lumine doesn't comment on it, for Paimon's already on another spiel.

You're still asleep, curled up in the same cat-like way as before. Paimon points at you, mouth parted to speak, but Lyney beats her to the punch, shushing her.

“Let me,” he says.

“Erm, what's he doing?”

Lynette sighs. “Being a dumbass.”

Lyney cups your cheek with his palms, pressing a kiss to your nose. (“Does he do this with everyone who falls asleep??” Paimon asks, almost horrified.) He smiles, something softer, something sweeter than Lumine's ever seen him smile. “Rise and shine, mon ange.”

Your eyes crack open. At the sight of him, you avert your gaze.

“I'm sorry I fell asleep during your show,” you murmur regretfully.

He shakes his head. “Nevermind that, darling. Did you sleep well?”

“To the sound of your voice?” you ask, voice lilting, almost enchanting. “Perfectly.”

He flushes. Like an honest to god blush. Even Paimon is struck dumb at the sight.

“You flatter me,” he laughs, helping you out of your seat. His gaze never seems to leave yours.

“I can't help it.” You pout. The two of you seem to be in your own world at this point. “It's not my fault my boyfriend has the most soothing voice.”

“Wait. BOYFRIEND?!”

hi rin! i recently came across your blog from an angst scenario and i was wondering if you would be able to do a jjk version of “characters throwing their wedding ring” i live for angst haha and i’m really glad i found your blog! also i’m 20!!

JJK CHARACTERS WHEN THEY THROW THEIR WEDDING RING

feat. nanami; toji; gojo; shoko; getou

a/n: angst rules ngl. thank you for your suggestion, i hope u enjoy this (because i for sure enjoyed writing this)

haikyuu version

arguments usually weren’t heated with NANAMI. the two of you believed in open and honest communication so it was rare that either one of you would start yelling. so to say the least, hearing his voice boom in the living room and seeing him so enraged was shocking. you couldn’t focus on him anymore as he continued his rant, face slightly red from his booming voice. but you couldn’t even lift your head to look at him, eyes fixed on the ring laying on the floor — the ring that was supposed to be on his ring finger as a symbol of your eternal love. that was until one second the yelling stopped. as you looked up you saw your husband frozen, gaze downcast in guilt.

loving TOJI could be hard sometimes. he was argumentative, hot-headed and selfish. he didn’t seem to care what buttons he pushed and just how much hurt he would cause. you were terrified to see just how easy he managed to slip the ring off and throw it carelessly to the side right before slamming the door behind him. what you couldn’t see however was him dropping down right after, his back against the wood, with his head between his knees. his breathing shuddered as he clenched his fists, digging his nails into the skin. there was one thing he was sure of — he loved you. could you love him, regardless of how fallible he was?

GOJO was truly special — in one way or another. yet he always made sure to treat you as his equal, because that’s what you were to him. he loved you more than anything and anyone and he never had any problems admitting that. and you never doubted him because he never gave you a reason to. but now you did. “please,” his voice was muffled behind the door, “please let me in” the second you left the room he was right behind you, his pleads for you cut off by the door slamming into his face. “i love you,” he insisted, his hands outstretched. he wanted nothing more than to step into the room and fall on his knees right in front of you, beg for your forgiveness. and he could — but he couldn’t. he shouldn’t. because this wasn’t about what he needed or wanted but about how he hurt you and what you needed from him.

one of SHOKO’s strengths was being level-headed, no matter how serious or loaded the situation might be. she was always aware of what she was doing and of how it might affect others — which is why this hurt even more. she couldn’t explain to herself why she thought for even just a second that throwing her wedding ring, the one the two of you chose together, at you was the right thing to do. she clenched her jaw, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. she should turn around, go back to you, apologize, beg for your forgiveness. and yet here she was, running away from the one thing she loved and hurt the most — you.

GETOU was aware of his faults. he was a passionate and smug man, going so far as to call himself condescending. and while he was confident that he was able to control his emotions and be a good person and especially a good partner, he soon realized that this wasn’t always the case. his face was pale, a shocked expression etched into it. he looked stunned, shaking his head in disbelief with his eyes staring on his hand. this had to be a dream, there was no way he would do such a thing. he told himself he was going to be good to you, always keep you safe and happy. this couldn’t be true, it had to be a dream, a nightmare. but if it was a dream, why wouldn’t he wake up, safe and secure with your loving arm around him?

reblogs are appreciated

The Road to You (M)

Chapters

01: Call to Adventure (13k words) | read on ao3 02: Supernatural Aid (15k words) | read on ao3 03: Meeting the Mentor (13k words) | read on ao3 04: Crossing the Threshold (15k words) | read on ao3 05: Tests, Allies, Enemies (11k words) | read on ao3 06: Caves (12k words) | read on ao3 07: Ordeals, Rewards, Resurrection (17k words) | read on ao3 08: Elixir (12k words) | read on ao3

Total Word Count: ~110k words

Summary

Armed with your quick wit, creative passion, talent for storytelling, and innate understanding of your fanbase, you have met every challenge, surpassed every goal, and achieved the unimaginable. Despite the earth shifting erratically under your firmly planted feet, you’ve always had a plan. You’ve made peace with the sacrifices you’ve had to make, and you’ve long forgotten the rejections and heartbreaks that came as a result. Your agent keeps reminding you that you’re at the precipice of something new, that your audience is waiting for your next project with bated breath. This is usually when you thrive. So why do you feel so lost? And who can you count on from your past to help you find your way?

Excerpt

“What about this one?” she asks, holding up an old polaroid. “He doesn’t look like any of the others.”

You frown and look at the picture. It’s of an elementary school-aged you exchanging happy smiles with a boy in a Bert and Ernie shirt. Even at his age, he has soulful, knowing, dark eyes, though they’re hidden behind a mop of curly, black hair. His fingers are in your hair, and you laugh when you remember that it’s because one of your barrettes had fallen out of your hair, and he was putting it back into place.

Your heart expands, threatening to burst out of your chest when you realize who it is.

“Taehyung,” you say quietly, smiling.

You run your thumb over the picture, and Yun’s eyes grow wide.

“Who’s Taehyung?” she asks. “I’ve never heard you say his name!”

“Jimin was my first boyfriend,” you say, handing the polaroid back to Jun and grinning at her, “but Taehyung was my first love.”

Pairings: OT7 x Reader, Tae-centric

Genres: Consider this the AUs of all other AUs / We got Childhood Best Friend!Taehyung / We got High School Boyfriend!Jimin / We got Professor!Yoongi / College Boyfriend!Jungkook / Art Enthusiast and City Heartthrob!Namjoon / Barista!Hobi / Actor!Jin / F2L / E2L / get ready for a lifetime of love with OT7, folks

Rating: 18+ / Explicit / Mature

Content Warnings: Soft and hard smut, fluff, of COURSE angst, past trauma, jealousy, cheating, chronic illness (someone’s loved one is sick), various references and scenes with alcohol and drugs, dealing with incompatibility and dealbreakers and relationships that just won’t work out / omg the angst / but one will / oh, one will indeed

Taglist 💜: permanent @purpleheartsfortae @btseditsworld | the road to you  @aliceollormusic  @tangledsparkles @daydreamqueenjaycee​ (taglist closed!)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this fic. I am so touched by the comments, thoughts, and emotions that you’ve shared. Many of them have had an incredibly strong impact on me, and I’m so grateful. I so hope you enjoyed this journey, and hope you’ll keep reading along with me! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Baseball (& Other Disasters)

Description. Everyone admired Mark Lee, starting pitcher of your school’s baseball team and famed ladies man. You, on the other hand, only know him as the boy who broke your dorm lobbies microwave the first time you met.

Too bad that was all it took to grow an embarrassingly huge crush on him. 

So when he comes to you, in need of a new baseball manager, how could you say no to that face? (Spoiler: You couldn’t) 

Pairings. Mark Lee x Female Reader

Genre. Romance, F2L, Idiots to lovers, Mutual Pining

Warnings. Cursing, An awkward scene of you walking in on the deed being done, suggestive comments,  (I think that’s it?)

Word count. 10k … 

Note: I had so much fun writing this, sorry if it seems like it moved too fast, I didn’t want it to be too long since it’s been sitting in my drafts forever! Anyways, enjoy and remember feedback is always appreciated <3

Mark Lee is out fifty dollars, a phone bill, and most recently, a baseball manager. And he’s about to pull his hair out, because seriously, who quits right before the season starts? Not to help that he could’ve never seen it coming. 

Keep reading

“are we…” ; kazuha, ayato, alhaitham, & tartaglia

details — here on another agenda of listening to songs, reading the lyrics, realizes how it would sound so good on a fic, and boom! slapping it on a character i think would suit it; basically, songs and tropes as some genshin men

characters — alhaitham, ayato, kazuha, tartaglia (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — a sprinkle of angst, some of them are out of character, nothing happy is going on (my life relates to it) ; headcanons/scenario

words — 1558

note — getting back to writing so sorry if this fic seems shitty, i’m trying to get my style back by reading the fics i wrote. also i’ll be mostly writing in lowercase now bcs i’m typing on my phone

waiting ; unrequited love — kazuha (bags by clairo)

“can you see me? i’m waiting for the right time.”

kazuha settles on a boundary between you two, standing close behind it, afraid to take a step and cross. and though he was a man who had no fears and wouldn’t let anything hold him back from attaining what he wants, he was scared of going past the boundary as if he would be treading the path of misery once he chooses to do so.

there is always the urge to touch you, the desire to feel your skin underneath his fingertips and unbeknownst to him, his hand would act on its own—he would reach out, his fingers stopping close to your skin before immediately taking his hand back once the realization of his actions had sunk inside his head: “what is it?” you have asked him upon noticing his actions and he could only shake his head before saying, “there’s something on your hair.”

he has this strong sense of denial whenever he does something for you or says something to you, reasoning the flowers that he gives from time to time as an act of friendship and appreciation or the poetry that he creates with you in mindbut he keeps hidden was just because you were too beautiful to not have your being expressed in words and written in poems—

—and every single day, in each morning that he wakes up, he strongly believes that his feelings for you had already dissipated into thin air as if it never existed in the place but only to see your stupid smile and mesmerizing eyes and having himself fall in love again. oh, the amount of times he convinces and tells himself that he’ll avoid you from then on only to have himself basking in your presence later on: “this is the last time,” he tells himself.

there are only two states he would end up in if he decides to go further the line, without you and with you, and he wasn’t stupid to not know that he’ll only have the former happen to him.

he would rather have you close to him and yearn for you despite being so near than the heartbreak and admiring you afar.

“it’s not like you’re in love with me or anything, right?”

toxic ; unhealthy relationships — alhaitham (cry by cigarettes after sex)

“saying you’d wait for me to stay, i know it hurts you.”

you don’t have a toxic relationship with alhaitham nor did you have a healthy one but instead it was miserable, simply one-sided. however, it wasn’t like that at first, he wasn’t like this at first when you two would decide to start over again and create a fresh new page of your love story only for it to end in the same way.

he was good, was great, was wonderful—was. you don’t even know how it got to this point. how did the gentle and sweet murmurs of love and compliments turn to endless shouting and fights at every chance you two get? alhaitham, despite already having raised his voice at you on several occasions, had never raised his hand at you but nevertheless, it doesn’t make anything less hurtful.

“let’s just stop this, i’m tired,” it was clear, it was obvious that the only solution for this wretchedness was to simply just stop and end everything, to cut yourself off him but it doesn’t seem to happen. alhaitham, who possesses such great knowledge and intelligence to know the answer to nearly every problem, never seems to understand that. moments of begging, of asking for forgiveness, for a chance that you always give him, that you always provide him outright, seemingly served and topped with the syrup of your tears and blood.

he only loves you when he’s about to lose you, you know that. you weren’t blind but perhaps you were dumb with that but he loves you then, right? if he really does love you at those moments, then perhaps he did love you right from the start and he just never realized it—it was an endless cycle of gaslighting and making a fool of yourself, finding the reason and making logic out of his actions and words.

it was hard to lose him, you were too used to his presence always guiding you, helping you, and encouraging you that the moment you lost him, you just never seemed to know anything—like a child that was just taken out of the womb, you knew nothing, even yourself. it was a clear fact that you were nothing without him and without you, he was nothing.

“what happened to us, alhaitham?”

convenience ; arranged marriage w/ one-sided feelings — ayato (you’re losing me by taylor swift)

“i wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser.”

it was a marriage of convenience—oh, how you hated the word itself. it feels like a painful slap on your face whenever you hear it being used along with the word marriage, one that would leave a burning mark on your skin.

ayato tried to be a good husband, he tried, really. even when he would come home late, he would always have something to give you. despite not having that many conversations and seldomly seeing each other outside the dining room and bedroom, he would still treat you rather kindly and gently, even when you spend most of your nights alone in a bed that was too large for one, you never felt lonely (perhaps you do, you just don’t want to face it because then you’ll realize that your good husband wasn’t good at all); “i apologize, my dear. here, i bought you something on the way back.”

perhaps all of those acts of kindness and sweetness are his way of saying sorry but what’s there to say sorry for even? was it because he failed to arrive for dinner every time or was it just the whole marriage experience overall?

everything was built on convenience, the only time you two would talk to each other is when it’s needed and the conversation you two will have would end rather shortly and the only time he would touch you in a way that makes you feel loved and cherish—making love—is when it’s convenient for him; you were just never a priority, not anything of importance in his life.

what hurts even more is that ayato isn’t even doing any of this because of a boundary that you two had made but rather there was really nothing in between you two, nothing, not even a speck of dust could be found in the distance you two had.

ayato wasn’t even in a state of turmoil, he wasn’t in a position wherein he had to choose something, to sacrifice, to risk something, it’s just that you were there—you were convenient and not because he chose to choose you over anything else. you were easy to woo, easy to hold, easy to fool.

did he really lose you when he never even wanted you to be his in the first place?

“isn’t this convenient for the both of us?”

pleasure ; one-night stand turned to friends w/ benefits— childe/tartaglia (k. by cigarettes after sex)

“we had made love earlier that day with no strings attached, but i could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then.”

it was simply a relationship that was born out of pleasure; created with the foundation of desire, lust, and need. formed in a single night to escape the reality of the misery of your own lives and consistently being nurtured like a seed that was dropped into the soil and naturally taken care of by the rain and sun—it all seemed natural, him inviting you out for dinner, enjoying your time with his stupid jokes and flirty remarks that is luring you to another night of passion just to wake up with a note and a cold bed the next morning.

and there are times you wish to disappear from his life, to stop whatever you two have, and simply just release yourself from his grasp and though he also wishes for the same, childe always holds onto you so tightly as if he never wants you to leave, as if he always want you to stay even if he knows that he’s hurting you, even if you’re just hurting each other; somewhere deep inside his bones, in the crevices of his mind, he doesn’t wish to see you with someone else other than him despite the fact that he wants you to be happy; “stay with me,” he had told you as he kissed and held you.

but childe was a romantic, he always shower you praised in and out of the bed, he was sweet to you; a gentleman with his words and actions. he was lovely, so breathtaking, so poisonous and it wasn’t hard to love him. and he was well-aware of how your gaze seems to linger at him, how there’s something swirling and drowning in the depths of your eyes, and he was well-aware of what it was. and yet, he chooses to ignore it—was it for the good of himself? for you? either way, he can’t have himself falling.

had you known that night with him would end up in this way, you wouldn’t have taken his rough yet gentle hand on that night.

“what’s there for me to stay for?”

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.