oddsare

Ugh, bless you, content queen—we shall wait as patiently as thirsty souls can (read: not at all).
And yes, GMMTV needs to get on it!

Girl, not you writing your own vampire novella while battling C. Diff like a tragic, garlic-deprived heroine—iconic behavior.

If this bug even dares come for you, I swear I’ll stake Nakan myself, toss you a blessed garlic knot, and tuck you in right next to Mark’s glittery coffin. You’ll rise from the dead, eyeliner flawless, and claim your spot as the side chick supreme while Tong’s still doing laundry.

Because babe, true love is eternal—and so is petty towel-sharing jealousy. Love you forever, even in the afterlife!💋

Love you more, my softcore menace!
Happy Wet Daddy Day—may your timeline be flooded, your fantasies validated, and your pillow fluffed just right after the chaos. Stay moist, stay messy, and stay chronically online with me where we belong!

Disclaimer:
This very hydrated fanfic is lovingly dedicated to my favorite little pillow princess—
You know who you are. The one who pretends to be innocent, but hits replay on shower scenes like it’s cardio.
This one’s for you, sweetheart. May your tank tops be clingy, your daddies be generous, and your screenshots be crispy HD.
Now grab your fan and prepare to gasp in gay.

Mark x Tong: Wet, Wild & 100% BL Certified (Songkran Special)

“You’re wearing that?”
Mark’s brow arched, arms crossed over his annoyingly perfect chest, already glistening from the heat—and definitely not just from water.

Tong, in a white tank top (read: BL wardrobe department’s dream) and shorts barely legal for public use, smirked. “Too much?”

“Too little,” Mark muttered, stepping in close enough for the air to charge with tension. He wiped a bead of water from Tong’s collarbone with one finger—slowly. Sinfully. “You do realize you’re provoking me, right?”

Tong’s grin widened. “Obviously. Happy Songkran.”

Minutes later, they were mid-chaos, soaked and surrounded by screaming teens with water guns. But Mark had one target.
He stalked Tong like a shirtless predator in a sea of soggy BL extras.

A blast of cold water hit Tong square in the back.

“You traitor!” Tong shrieked.

“You wore that,” Mark smirked, backing him into a wall in the nearest alley.
Oof. This alley. It had big Episode 11 vibes. Low lighting. No chaperones. Intimacy practically built into the concrete.

Water streamed down Tong’s neck, soaking the tank top until it was practically NSFW. Mark’s eyes didn’t miss a thing.
“Careful,” he said, voice dipping lower. “I might forget we’re in public.”

Tong raised a brow. “Forget it. Let’s give them a mid-season rating boost.”

Their mouths met—wet, eager, slippery in that “this will be in the teaser trailer” way. Tong tasted like rebellion and coconut water. Mark tasted like danger with abs.

BL Rule #17: If one is shirtless and pinning the other to a wall, a kiss is legally required.

They were mid-kiss when a bucket of ice water hit them from nowhere.

“PDA PENALTY!” someone yelled from the rooftop. “Kiss again or leave the alley!”

Passersby cheered. One voice screamed, “EPISODE 8 CONFIRMED!”

Mark, unfazed and a little too smug, said, “We’re behind schedule.”

Tong rolled his eyes, yanked him in by the collar, and kissed him again—harder. With commitment. With trending hashtag energy.

⸻

Bonus Scene: The Calm After the Splash

Later, they tried to “dry off.” Tong shivered slightly, and Mark—being Mark—used it as an excuse to press their bodies together, muttering something about “body heat conservation.”

But Oops. Tong was still wearing that tank top.

Oops. Mark was still shirtless.

Oops. Someone walked by and said, “They better not fade to black again!”

⸻

Somewhere, a fan already uploaded a fancam titled:
“MarkTong | Songkran Seduction | Full Scene Uncut (1080p)”
And honestly? Worth every frame.

Let’s make this Songkran wet in every possible way!

I want every shared daddy out here glistening, dripping, and accidentally forgetting to wear sleeves. If they don’t post, it’s a crime against humanity.

Ah yes, the holy season of unexpected splashes and accidental thirst traps! Blessings to all water warriors—may your phones stay dry and your crushes conveniently wear white!

OMG for real?

Thanks 🙏🏻

Yesss, bring it on! Black tank, white tank, sweat-glazed or tomato-juice stained—let the Thirst Olympics begin! Winner gets eternal bragging rights and probably a laundry bill.

OMG not Smooth Almond making a comeback like a forbidden body part in a slow pan camera shot!

Haha, I woke up, saw Mark’s veins, and blacked out with a tomato juice in hand. Tuesday or not, the thirst waits for no one!

Mark’s shoulder veins are working harder than my self-control. Like sir, are those for blood flow or just pure decorative thirst traps?

Girl, those brows could survive a vampire apocalypse and fund a beachfront condo in Mykonos!

Right? If I had eyebrows like Mark’s, I’d file them as emotional support animals.🤣

Honestly, that’s not just recovery—that’s research. I fully support your medically-approved Mark x Tong treatment plan. Side effects may include flushed cheeks, uncontrollable giggles, and the sudden urge to sniff fabric softener.

Sending you garlic bread-scented healing vibes and a side of tomato juice until Episode 5 drops!
We’re all just golden-blooded mortals waiting for Mark to cure our boredom with one dramatic entrance.

HELP—this post just gave me 3 migraines, bleached my retinas, and crowned me Miss Photosensitivity 2025.
I feel like I just stared into the sun through a trophy-shaped magnifying glass.

Who needs vampire sparkle when the fandom is out here casting Flashbang Emoji Spells?

And that waiting room scene?
Quiet, loaded, brilliant.

Day in black. Night in white.
Opposite shades, same ache.
Two people carrying the weight of tragedy, but wearing it in completely different ways.

Day’s grief simmers—contained but volcanic. The way he stares at Night?
It’s not just anger.
It’s hurt. It’s betrayal.
It’s “Why did this happen again?” and “How do I forgive what none of us can control?”
And Pond—Pond!—his eyes are full of that sharp, quiet storm. He doesn’t even need dialogue to wound you.

Night, dressed in white, looks like someone trying to stay clean in a world that’s already bled on him. His guilt is internalized, quiet, coiled like a spring.

And then—Day passes him the coffee.
No words. Just a gesture. A peace offering. A soft “I’m still here.”

That scene didn’t need any drama.
Because the silence, the styling, the performances did all the screaming.

Oh wow. That scene.
Ozone, unraveling. Sounds no one else can hear, clawing at his mind like invisible claws.
He’s rocking, spiraling, retreating into a place Day can’t reach—until Day speaks his language.
“Mercury, Venus, Earth…”
Not therapy. Not scolding. Just planets. A constellation of words, familiar and safe.

And somehow, that simple recitation becomes a lifeline.
Each planet pulls Ozone back, one orbit at a time.
His breathing slows. His fists unclench.
And then—eye contact. The kind that doesn’t just say “I see you”, but “I’m not leaving you.”

It’s not just a calming technique.
It’s trust being built, molecule by molecule.
It’s Day saying, “You don’t have to hide your chaos. I’ll meet you there, and walk you home.”

That scene?
Powerful. Gentle. Cosmic.
And it cracked my heart open in the best way.