#i love getting to talk about our fanfic!!!

[matthewswifeyx]

When the party's over <3

Summary- Y/N suffers with the birthday blues after having a small party for her birthday

Warnings?- Fluff, crying

Everything was going so well with the party, I was having fun with friends, having a little bit to drink and spending time with the people that mean most to me. Me and Matt had so much fun organising everything. It was getting late and Matt made the call for everyone to start leaving, I was almost about to drift off to sleep before Matt had said anything. I got up and hugged all of my guests goodbye. Now it was only me and Matt left in our house. I fell back onto the couch and closed my eyes.

"Come on sleepy head, lets go to bed." Matt said softly. I nodded sleepily and Matt pulled me up from the sofa to carry my upstairs carefully. Matt had placed one arm under my knees and the other arm supporting my back. Bridal style. Matt had always loved to carry me like this, he just feels so protective of me.

We had reached the bedroom and Matt placed me down onto the bed softly and gently. He carefully took off my party dress and replaced it with my pyjamas. He was now tucking me under the covers.

An overwhelming amount of emotion crashed over me like a tidal wave. Soft sniffles escaped my mouth. This grabbed Matt's attention.

"Oh baby what's wrong?" He asked worried. Matt had quickly got himself undressed and put some sweatpants on before coming to my aid. I just stared at the ceiling with tears running down my face. "Baby, c'mon, talk to me. What's wrong?" He raised his eyebrows.

"It's just I'm really thankful for everything I have in my life, whether that is the people or this house or my car. Today just really showed me that everyone in my life does care." I just made myself more upset. Matt chuckled in relief.

"Oh sweetie, that's lovely. You're just suffering from the birthday blues at the moment." He smiled, kissed me on my lips softly and put his arm around me, allowing me to snuggle into his chest. Matt was so reassuring and comforting. He was the best.

"I love you Matt. Thank you." I had felt so much better now that I was in bed cuddling Matt.

"No problem sweetheart, I'm always here." Matt kissed my head and I slowly drifted off to sleep.

Banner credits to @bernardsbendystraws <3

Hey guys! I hope you really enjoyed this small fanfic! if you have any suggestions/requests, please do not hesitate to drop me a message and I will try and get back to you asap! <3

[amethystarachnid]

Please, please, I need to ask you for a part 2 of Snowy Love now... they had a little boy, an exact copy of Tony, and of course, his name is Anthony Edward Stark Jr. 🥰 and just as Tony promised, they are going back to the same place with their baby boy now 🥰 Tony is the best hubs and dad, always so soft and protective... one night, as they observe their beautiful baby boy sleeping so peacefully, Tony will tell her that he wants another one, and they decide to have another baby 🥰 if you want you can spicy things up too, thank you 😘

I love the idea of Tony and reader having a special place like this to go 🥰

SNOWY LOVE - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff, a tiny tiny spicy scene

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ Summary: after your son, Edward, comes in the world your little Alps getaway get more interesting, so interesting that you and Tony decide you wouldn't mind another baby Stark.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of birth, a little spicy scene

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The weeks leading up to your due date are a mix of excitement, nerves, and more than a few late-night talks about the baby’s name. You’d both been bouncing ideas around since the second trimester, but nothing had fully clicked for both of you. Then, one evening, Tony hit you with a proposition that he was sure would be a “slam dunk.”

“What if…” Tony begins, giving you his best salesman smile, “we make him a junior?”

You nearly choke on the sip of water you’re drinking. “Junior?”

“Think about it.” He leans forward, eyebrows raised, already envisioning it. “Anthony Edward Stark Junior. Our little legacy. Our kid gets a great name, I get a mini-me, and you get to say, ‘I’m married to Tony Stark Senior.’ Everybody wins.”

You stare at him, trying to process. “Tony, I don’t know… A junior? I feel like it’s setting up some pretty big expectations.”

He tilts his head, giving you a puppy-dog look. “What if we just call him Edward, though? Classic, timeless, elegant… just like his mom.”

You narrow your eyes, both charmed and trying not to roll your eyes. “You’re really playing the flattery angle here.”

Tony grins. “Is it working?”

“Fine,” you sigh with a smirk. “But I’m calling him Edward. You don’t get to sneak in any nicknames like ‘Tiny Tony’ or ‘Starky’ or anything weird, got it?”

He beams. “Deal. Edward it is.”

On the big day, when the contractions start, Tony morphs into a chaotic mix of superhero and headless chicken. The moment you tell him, he’s grabbing his jacket, his tablet, and two power banks (just in case, he insists). He practically hustles you out the door, giving the driver a set of instructions that makes it sound like you’re about to pull off an international heist rather than have a baby.

In the delivery room, Tony is trying his best to be calm and supportive, but his nerves start showing the minute you go into active labor.

“Alright, babe, you’ve got this,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Just… breathe! And maybe, uh, try some meditation?”

You give him a look that could melt his Iron Man suit. “Oh, really? Breathe? How insightful. Maybe I should just think calming thoughts while this tiny human makes his dramatic entrance, Tony.”

He swallows, wide-eyed, clearly realizing he’s treading dangerous ground. “Right. Just, you know, ignore me. I’m here. Quietly. Totally quiet.”

But every time a contraction hits, he’s there, full of commentary and ideas, most of which involve technology he wishes he could be using. “You know, I could invent a pressure reducer—some kind of… I don’t know, anti-gravity cradle? That way, all the pressure is off you—”

“Tony!” you gasp between contractions, managing to laugh despite the pain. “Focus, please. No inventions right now.”

Finally, after what feels like hours of huffing, puffing, and a whole range of Tony’s attempts at encouragement (that occasionally backfire), you hear the first cries of your son. The room goes still, and Tony’s hand grips yours a little tighter, his face softening with awe as the doctor holds up your baby boy, all squirmy and red-faced.

You’re exhausted but overwhelmed with joy as they place him on your chest. The little guy blinks up at you, and as you look down, you’re struck by how much he already looks like his dad. From the dark hair to the tiny furrow in his brow, he’s unmistakably Tony’s son.

Tony’s voice breaks the silence, soft and filled with wonder. “Oh, look at him… He’s perfect.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, stroking your finger over his tiny hand. “He really is.”

After a few moments, Tony leans over, whispering so only you and the baby can hear. “Hey, Edward. Welcome to the team, little guy.”

You laugh softly, glancing up at Tony with a smirk. “I suppose we’ll let you keep the ‘Anthony Edward Junior’ for the birth certificate.”

Tony grins, looking a little misty-eyed. “And we’ll call him Edward. Just like we said.”

The baby shifts in your arms, yawning with a seriousness that makes you and Tony both laugh. “Look at that,” Tony says, chuckling, “he’s already judging us. He’s got the Stark stare down.”

“Oh, he’s definitely yours,” you say, tracing his tiny nose. “There’s no denying it.”

As the nurse takes Edward for his check-up, Tony stays close, keeping one eye on the baby and one on you, as if he can’t decide who needs more protection. At one point, Edward lets out a small cry, and Tony practically jumps out of his seat, only to be gently waved back by the nurse.

“Alright, alright, kiddo’s tough,” Tony mutters to himself, trying to act casual. Then, under his breath, he adds, “I’d better teach him about building armor for all life’s tough moments. Soon as he can walk.”

You smile, shaking your head. “Not just yet, Tony.”

“Fine. Maybe in a few years.” He smiles down at you, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “You did amazing, by the way. Both of you.”

Later, as you’re resting in the quiet room, Edward nestled in your arms, Tony sits by your side, his gaze fixed on the little bundle between you. He reaches over, brushing a hand over Edward’s dark hair.

“I have a feeling this little guy’s going to keep us on our toes,” he says, his voice warm with anticipation.

You chuckle. “I think he’s going to be just like his dad. Confident, a little dramatic, always ready for an adventure.”

Tony grins. “Then he’s got some pretty big shoes to fill. But don’t worry, kid.” He leans close to Edward, whispering, “You’ve got a head start. You’ve got the best mom in the world.”

Your heart swells, and you glance over at Tony, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude. “And the best dad.”

He reaches for your hand, holding it tight. “Here’s to the new adventure, Mrs. Stark. Alps trips, tiny skis, and all.”

And as Edward settles back down in your arms, his little hand wrapped around Tony’s pinky, you know you wouldn’t trade this moment, this family, for anything in the world.

November brings a fresh blanket of snow over the Alps, and true to his word, Tony whisks you and baby Edward back to the chalet for your first family trip as a trio. But this time, Tony has leveled up his promise a little bit.

“Alright, brace yourself,” he says with a smirk as the three of you arrive at the chalet’s entrance.

“Tony, what did you do?” you ask, eyeing him with playful suspicion.

He opens the door with a flourish. “Meet the new and improved chalet,” he declares as you step inside and notice everything from the original cozy stone walls to the carved wooden beams… looking the exact same as they had before. It’s still the chalet you remember, but now, as you glance around, you notice subtle but elegant upgrades: a sleeker kitchen, plush couches, perfectly arranged warm lighting, and something tells you Tony’s fingerprints are on each and every detail.

“JARVIS?” you call out, testing your theory.

“Yes, Mrs. Stark,” JARVIS replies smoothly, his voice filling the room. “I am here to assist you with anything you need during your stay.”

You look at Tony, arching an eyebrow. “You put JARVIS in the chalet?”

Tony grins. “What’s a chalet without a little Stark-level luxury? Besides, he’s got the heat, lights, baby-monitoring, and full security on lock. Plus, the moment Edward gets fussy, he’s going to give us gentle background white noise. Like having a top-notch babysitter that we don’t have to pay.”

You laugh, holding baby Edward closer to you. “Only you would find a way to make a rustic mountain getaway smart-tech enabled.”

Edward blinks up at the sound of JARVIS, his big brown eyes going wide. Tony leans over, stroking Edward’s tiny head with a grin. “See, kiddo? We’ve got all the comforts of home—just with a better view.”

Of course, while the chalet is all set up and the vacation is planned to perfection, the reality of bringing a seven-month-old to the Alps sets in quickly. For one thing, Edward seems endlessly fascinated with everything in sight—the crackling fire, the pinecone decorations, the view outside—but especially, he loves testing his new babbling skills at full volume whenever you’re trying to enjoy a quiet moment by the fireplace. And when it comes time to bundle him up in his little winter gear for some snow time, things get complicated fast.

Tony holds up the puffy snowsuit, squinting at it like it’s a complex piece of machinery. “Okay, so we just… put him in here? I don’t think he’ll fit. Are you sure this is his size?”

You stifle a laugh. “Yes, Tony. Babies’ clothes just tend to look a little oversized. Trust me, he’ll fit.”

After a few minutes of wrestling with the baby-sized marshmallow suit, Edward is all bundled up, looking a little like a tiny, slightly disgruntled snowman, his cheeks poking out from the snug hood.

“Well, look at you!” Tony coos, chuckling as he lifts Edward up. “You’re ready to brave Everest.” He leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Just don’t expect us to climb it anytime soon, okay?”

You take a few steps outside, holding Edward’s tiny mittened hand, and Tony follows with a knowing smile. “Alright, team, it’s time to introduce the little guy to snow. First snowball?” he asks, already forming a little powdery ball.

“Nothing too rough, Stark,” you say with a laugh. But before you know it, Tony tosses a soft, fluffy snowball—more like a gentle powder puff—onto Edward’s lap.

Edward stares at the snowball with a very serious expression, reaching out to poke at it. His face lights up as his tiny mitten sinks into the snow, and he looks up at you, babbling excitedly.

“See?” Tony says, grinning. “Total natural. And he hasn’t even tried sledding yet!”

You and Tony spend the morning showing Edward the snow-covered world, taking him out to a little sled where he sits on your lap, squealing in delight as Tony gently pulls the sled along. Every now and then, he looks up at you with pure joy, and your heart just melts.

Later that evening, after you’ve managed to get Edward fed and snuggled into bed (which was an ordeal in itself, as he spent half the time grabbing at your hair and Tony’s glasses), you sit by the fireplace, wrapped in one of the soft blankets Tony stocked up on. Tony finally joins you after setting up a baby monitor with JARVIS’s help, plopping down on the couch beside you with a tired but satisfied smile.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “Well, we survived the first day. Barely.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s different with a baby, isn’t it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he says, looking over at the baby monitor and grinning as he sees Edward sleeping peacefully. “But it’s kind of the best thing ever.”

You smile, thinking of all the little moments from the day—Edward’s excitement over the snow, his curious little face peeking out from the snowsuit, the way he’d babbled at the mountains like he was having a full conversation with them. “It really is.”

Tony’s hand drifts to your shoulder, and he kisses the top of your head. “Remember what I promised you? Yearly trips to the Alps, no matter what.”

You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth and the soft crackling of the fire. “And you’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Stark. This chalet is perfect.”

“Well, only the best for you and our little snow adventurer.” He chuckles, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “I can’t wait until he’s old enough to really take on the slopes. I’ll teach him everything I know.”

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “Oh, so he’ll be an expert on the bunny slopes?”

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me! I did those bunny slopes with you for safety reasons.”

You grin, nudging him playfully. “Sure, sure.”

For the rest of the night, you both fall into comfortable conversation, talking about your favorite parts of the trip and laughing over Edward’s tiny adventures of the day. And even though there’s a new level of exhaustion that comes with traveling as parents, there’s also a new kind of joy, too—the kind that fills your heart in ways you never could have imagined.

As you settle in beside Tony, his arm around you and the fire casting warm shadows across the room, you feel it—the deep contentment of being right where you’re meant to be. You have each other, a beautiful family, and all the memories waiting to be made on snowy Alps trips just like this one.

The next morning, you and Tony have a grand plan: to get a family photo in the snow with the Alps as a backdrop. You picture a sweet little scene—Edward bundled up, the mountains glistening in the background, and you and Tony looking like that perfect, smiling family on a holiday card. But getting a baby and two semi-coordinated adults to cooperate for a “simple” photo quickly becomes its own comedy of errors.

First, there’s the task of getting Edward back into his snowsuit, which he’s now decided he hates. He’s wiggling, giggling, and pulling at the hood the entire time, giving Tony a run for his money as he tries to zip up the tiny suit.

“Alright, Edward, c’mon,” Tony pleads, one hand struggling with the zipper while Edward bats at his dad’s face with a mittened hand. “Just work with me here, buddy. Think of the memories.”

Edward lets out a little squeal that sounds suspiciously like laughter, and you can’t help but giggle as Tony finally manages to get the zipper all the way up.

“There we go!” Tony cheers, looking immensely proud, like he’s just invented a new suit himself.

With the baby finally bundled, you two tackle the next challenge: finding a spot outside where the snow isn’t too deep. Tony scouts ahead, and with JARVIS chiming in via earpiece to give him topographical tips, you both make your way to the perfect spot, nestled near a tall pine tree with a breathtaking view of the snow-capped Alps in the background.

Tony positions his phone on a nearby rock, sets the timer, and then hurries back to join you and Edward. But as he leans in, trying to hold Edward steady, his hand slips, and suddenly he’s teetering backward, flailing as he tries to catch his balance on the icy snow.

“Oh no—!” you gasp, holding Edward securely as Tony lets out a string of surprised curses and lands straight in a snowbank, his legs flopping over the edge like a giant starfish.

The phone’s camera timer goes off with a cheery click. The result? A perfectly crisp shot of you holding Edward, smiling serenely while Tony lies in the background, half-buried in snow, looking thoroughly betrayed by gravity.

You’re laughing so hard that Edward starts to giggle too, a bubbly little laugh that only makes the whole situation even funnier. Tony sits up, looking bemused but amused, his face pink from the cold. “Okay, that’s… that’s one for the family album.”

You grin, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “It’s a classic already.”

Not one to let the snow get the best of him, Tony gets up with determination, brushing the snow off with dramatic flair. “Alright, no one messes with a Stark like that. We’re getting this shot, and it’s going to be flawless.”

On attempt number two, Tony positions the phone on a steadier surface, checks the snow for any hidden ice, and rejoins you, looping an arm around your shoulder as you all face the camera with bright smiles.

Just as the timer ticks down, Edward reaches up, grabbing Tony’s nose with an impressive grip for a seven-month-old. The photo snaps just as Tony lets out a squawk of surprise, his expression halfway between amusement and “I’ve been captured by my own child.” The result is another photo that, while completely unscripted, somehow captures everything you love about this little family adventure.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” Tony laughs, taking a look at the new photo. “Apparently, we’re destined for candid shots only.”

You shrug, kissing Edward’s chubby little cheek. “Maybe that’s even better. We’re a chaotic family, Tony—why pretend otherwise?”

As you all make your way back to the chalet, Tony leans in, whispering, “Just so you know, I’m sending both of those pictures to Happy for our holiday card options. Let him decide which one says ‘Stark Family Adventure’ the best.”

Later, cozy by the fire with Edward dozing in his crib nearby, you and Tony swipe through the day’s photos, laughing over each and every attempt. The best shots—the ones where you’re all genuinely laughing, snow in your hair and mismatched expressions—are far from perfect, but they’re filled with real joy. And as you snuggle close, you know this will be the kind of memory you’ll treasure forever, a perfectly imperfect adventure in the Alps with the people you love most.

Three years later, you’re back at the chalet for your annual Alps getaway, and it’s no surprise that Edward is now an unstoppable force. At three years old, he’s practically a mirror image of Tony—a toddler with boundless energy, unfiltered curiosity, and a confidence level that has you equal parts impressed and on high alert.

“Okay, buddy,” Tony says, crouching down to zip up Edward’s puffy little parka. “Remember the rules for today. One, no climbing any trees. Two, no running past—”

“Got it!” Edward chirps, promptly bouncing up and bolting out the door, his tiny boots pattering across the snow.

You laugh, throwing Tony a knowing look as he sighs. “He’s got the Stark attention span, too,” you say.

Tony smirks. “Only the best traits, right?”

Outside, Edward has already discovered a stick and is poking it into the snow, chattering away to himself like he’s narrating his own discovery channel show. As you watch, he picks up a pine cone and waves it over his head like it’s a prized artifact.

“Look, Daddy!” he calls, holding up the pine cone with immense pride. “I found treasure!”

Tony, trying to keep up with Edward’s imaginative pace, kneels beside him, inspecting the pine cone with all the gravitas of a museum curator. “Ah, yes. A rare alpine pine cone. I’d say that’s worth at least ten points.”

“Ten points!” Edward exclaims, his face lighting up with joy.

You watch the two of them, warmth filling your chest. They’re a perfectly matched pair: Tony, the ever-encouraging, slightly mischievous dad, and Edward, who treats every rock, snowflake, and icicle as if it’s the most magical thing he’s ever seen.

Before long, Tony has convinced Edward that a snowball fight is in order. The two of them square off, and it’s a comical sight—Tony with his practiced aim and Edward with his… well, enthusiastic but chaotic form of defense, which mostly involves flinging snow in every possible direction.

You try to sit back and watch, but before you know it, Edward has roped you in. “Mommy! Help me!” he calls, his tiny face flushed with excitement.

“Oh, you’re going down, Stark!” you call, laughing as you crouch beside Edward, forming snowballs as fast as he can toss them.

Tony’s attempts at pretending to be defeated are the funniest part of it all. He stumbles around dramatically, flinging snow in the air and making ridiculous sound effects every time Edward hits him with a snowball. Edward laughs so hard he nearly tumbles backward, and his laughter is contagious, echoing through the snowy landscape around you.

After an hour of snowy chaos, you all retreat back inside, red-cheeked and chilled but perfectly happy. You wrap Edward in a cozy blanket, and he nestles up beside you on the couch, his head resting against your shoulder, still babbling about his “great snow victory.”

Tony sits on your other side, wrapping an arm around you both. “You think he’s going to be this wild every year?”

You smile, brushing a stray bit of snow out of Edward’s hair. “If he’s anything like you? Definitely.”

Tony laughs, his eyes softening as he looks down at Edward, who’s drifting off in the comfort of your arms. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And in that moment, in the warmth of the chalet with your little family bundled together, you can’t imagine a better tradition. The mountains, the snow, and these beautiful, hilarious memories—they’re your family’s own perfect kind of magic.

After a long day of helping a highly enthusiastic but wildly unpredictable Edward navigate the beginner slopes, you and Tony are both thoroughly exhausted. Getting Edward to sleep has been an adventure on its own—he insisted on wearing his snow hat to bed, hugging his newfound pine cone “treasure” like a beloved teddy bear. But at last, he’s tucked under the cozy blankets, his soft snores filling the room as he finally rests.

You and Tony stand in the doorway, watching him with a mix of adoration and relief. Tony wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both gaze at your son.

“Out like a light,” Tony murmurs softly, a trace of awe in his voice. “Gotta hand it to the Alps—only place that can actually wear this little guy out.”

You chuckle, leaning back into his embrace. “Only took skiing lessons, a snowball fight, and an epic bedtime negotiation to get him here.”

Tony smirks. “Can you blame him? Kid knows what he wants.” He drops a light kiss on your shoulder, his voice turning playfully suggestive. “Wonder where he gets that from?”

You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “Pretty sure that’s all you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony pulls you closer, pressing his lips near your ear. “I think you underestimate just how… persuasive you can be, Mrs. Stark.”

You laugh softly, feeling the blush rise in your cheeks as Tony’s hands slip around your waist. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He feigns innocence. “Just stating the facts. And for the record, I’m pretty persuasive too. I mean, look at this kid.” He nods toward Edward’s sleeping form. “That’s a whole collaboration project right there. A masterpiece, if I do say so myself.”

You shake your head, trying to keep a straight face. But then, as you glance back at Edward, all tucked up in his little cocoon of blankets, the thought slips out of you before you can catch it: “I wouldn’t mind adding to the… collection.”

Tony goes still, and you feel his arms tighten around you, the grin in his voice unmistakable. “Oh, really?”

You blush, nudging him with your elbow, but you don’t deny it. “Maybe…”

“Maybe, she says,” he murmurs, amusement dancing in his tone as he steps back, just enough to turn you around and face him. His eyes are sparkling with a familiar mischief, and you know exactly where this is going. “Well, Mrs. Stark, I don’t believe in wasting time.”

Without another word, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you down the hall to your room with a determined grin. He pauses only to nudge the door shut with his foot and click the lock, just in case Edward decides to wander in on his way to a midnight snack.

The next morning, you both shuffle into the kitchen, happily disheveled but somewhat groggy after last night’s, uh, activities. Tony pours you both coffee while you tackle the task of assembling breakfast for the family, the scent of coffee filling the chalet. Just as you finish plating the pancakes, you hear the pitter-patter of small feet racing down the hall.

Edward appears in the doorway, all tousled bedhead and wide, curious eyes. He grins, hopping up into his chair with more energy than either of you can muster, and starts digging into his breakfast.

“Did you sleep well, buddy?” you ask, trying to keep the knowing smile off your face as Tony gives you a wink over his coffee mug.

“Yeah, I did,” Edward says, then tilts his head in thought. “Except for the weird noises.”

Your fork pauses mid-air. Tony freezes, eyebrows raising slightly as he trades a look with you.

“Oh? What kind of noises, honey?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light and innocent.

Edward scrunches his face, deep in toddler-level contemplation. “I dunno… kind of like ‘thump thump’ and then like… a squeaky sound?” He shrugs, perfectly unaware of the red hue creeping up both your faces. “I thought it was maybe animals outside. Like a bear!”

Tony chokes a little on his coffee, quickly composing himself as he nods, very seriously. “You know what? That’s exactly what it was. Just some… mountain animals. Bears, probably. Or… squirrels. Could’ve been squirrels too, I’d bet.”

Edward looks skeptical. “Squirrels? Squirrels go ‘squeak squeak’?”

You nod, putting on your best parental poker face. “Oh, absolutely. These Alps squirrels are, uh, very vocal.”

“And super fast,” Tony adds, trying to keep a straight face. “They must’ve just been scurrying around outside.”

Satisfied with this explanation, Edward returns to his breakfast, the mystery solved in his mind. But Tony can’t help himself—he sneaks a hand over, giving your knee a quick squeeze and winking at you over his mug, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips as he whispers, “Squirrels, huh?”

You bite back a laugh, nudging him with your foot under the table. “Keep it up, Stark, and you’ll be explaining squirrel noises for years to come.”

And as Edward chatters away about his plans for another day of snowy adventures, you and Tony share a quiet smile, thinking about how this mountain hideaway has become even more special to your family—memories made in the snow, and, apparently, memories made with a little help from the “squirrels.”

It’s a crisp spring afternoon in New York, and you’re back at Stark Tower, watching Edward chase his toy cars around the living room with endless energy. You can’t help smiling as he zooms his favorite red race car across the floor, making all the appropriate “vroom” noises, blissfully unaware that his whole world is about to change. You’ve just returned from the doctor, and the news you have to share with Tony feels like a small, joyful secret waiting to burst.

After waiting for the right moment all afternoon, you find Tony tinkering in his workshop. He’s bent over some project, half of his attention on JARVIS narrating stock reports, but as soon as he sees you standing in the doorway, he brightens up and sets down his tools.

“Hey, gorgeous. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He smirks, reaching for your hand and pulling you close.

“Well, I thought you might want a break,” you say, feeling the excitement bubble in your chest. “I actually have… some pretty big news.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow arches, his interest clearly piqued as he looks at you with that familiar Stark sparkle. “Do tell.”

Taking a deep breath, you let the words tumble out. “Tony, I’m pregnant.”

For a split second, there’s only silence as he processes what you’ve said. And then his face lights up with a joy so pure it makes your heart swell.

“You’re serious?” he whispers, almost as if he can’t believe it.

You nod, your smile growing wider. “We’re having another baby, Tony.”

His response is immediate; he wraps you in his arms, pulling you close, and you feel the warmth of his kiss on your forehead as he lets out a small, breathless laugh. “Another baby… wow. I’m gonna have two little Starks running around?” He pulls back to look at you, his hands on your shoulders, his gaze soft and a little awed. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“Well, thank you,” you laugh. “But this is all teamwork.”

“Oh, believe me,” he says, his expression growing playfully mischievous, “I remember the teamwork.”

You give him a light smack on the chest, rolling your eyes. “Focus, Stark. We have another little person to tell the news to, remember?”

Tony’s eyes widen, glancing toward the hallway where Edward’s little voice can be heard playing. “Oh, you mean the future big brother. How do you think he’ll take it?”

“Honestly?” You shrug. “No idea. But I think he’ll be excited… once he gets past any confusion.”

Tony grins, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of telling Edward. “Let’s do it.”

You both head to the living room, where Edward is still entirely focused on his toy car, making it zoom up the arm of the couch and fly through the air before landing it perfectly on the carpet. At three and a half years old, he’s the spitting image of his father: curious, energetic, and already a little charmer. When he sees you and Tony approaching, he stops mid-vroom, looking up with big, curious eyes.

“Hey, big guy,” Tony says, crouching down to Edward’s level. “Mommy and I have some special news for you.”

Edward’s eyes light up with interest. “News?”

You smile, sitting down next to him. “Yes, honey. You’re going to be a big brother.”

Edward’s little face scrunches up in confusion. “Big… brother?”

“Yes,” you say, glancing at Tony for support. “That means Mommy has a baby in her belly, and when it’s ready, you’ll have a little brother or sister.”

Edward’s eyes widen even more, and he stares at your stomach, looking half-confused, half-impressed. “Mommy ate a baby?”

Tony immediately bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but laugh too. You shake your head, gently taking Edward’s little hand and placing it on your belly. “No, honey, Mommy didn’t eat a baby. The baby is growing in here. And in a few months, you’re going to have a little sibling.”

Edward’s hand stays on your belly, his face absolutely serious as he contemplates this information. “So… the baby is just there?” He presses a bit, as if expecting to feel something.

Tony chimes in, his voice warm. “Yep. Just there, buddy. Growing a little more every day.”

Edward’s face slowly shifts from confusion to excitement, his smile growing as he processes what it means. “I’m going to have a baby to play with?”

“Exactly,” you say, brushing his hair out of his face. “You’re going to be a big brother. And that means you get to help take care of the baby, teach them new things, and, when they’re big enough, play together.”

Edward’s grin is so wide now that it practically glows. “I’m gonna be a big brother!” He pauses, squinting up at Tony. “Like… like how Daddy is in charge of everyone?”

Tony grins, clearly enjoying this line of thought. “Well, not exactly. You’ll be a big brother, which means you’ll get to show the baby how to do all the fun stuff, like building towers and—”

“And playing cars!” Edward finishes with enthusiasm. “I’m gonna teach them everything!”

You exchange a tender smile with Tony, watching as Edward begins to babble on about all the things he’ll show his little sibling, his excitement growing with each idea. You can see Tony’s eyes soften as he watches Edward, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Edward scrambles off the couch and stands right in front of your belly, crossing his arms with determination. “Baby, you have to come out soon so I can show you everything, okay?”

You chuckle, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’ll be a few more months, sweetheart, but the baby will hear you.”

Edward nods seriously, placing both hands on your stomach as if he’s already the most devoted big brother. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry. I’m gonna be here to teach you all the important stuff.”

Tony chuckles, pulling you close with an arm around your shoulder. “I think this baby has a pretty awesome big brother waiting for them.”

Edward looks up at both of you, his face filled with pure, innocent excitement. “Is the baby going to look like me?”

“Maybe!” you say, smiling at his curiosity. “Or maybe the baby will look like Daddy.”

“Or you!” Tony adds, squeezing your shoulder. “But one thing’s for sure, they’re going to be very lucky to have you as their big brother.”

Edward beams, his eyes bright with pride. Then he suddenly looks thoughtful. “Does that mean I get to be in charge of them? Like when they don’t want to play?”

You and Tony share a glance, stifling laughter. “Well, being a big brother means you’re a helper,” you say. “And that means being patient and kind.”

Edward thinks about this, nodding slowly. “I can do that,” he says seriously. “I’m going to be the best big brother ever.”

With that, he dashes back to his toy cars, already chatting to them about his new sibling as if they, too, need to know the news. You and Tony watch him with affection, sharing a moment of pure contentment.

“Not bad, huh?” Tony murmurs, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you close.

“Not bad at all,” you reply, leaning into him. “I think he’s going to be amazing.”

Tony chuckles, his gaze softening as he watches Edward play. “You know, if he’s anything like me, that baby is going to have a lot of excitement to look forward to.”

“Let’s just hope they balance each other out,” you laugh. “Otherwise, I think I’ll have my hands full.”

Tony gives you a teasing smile. “I think you already do, Mrs. Stark.”

The snow has blanketed the Italian Alps in a serene white hush, and you can’t help but smile as you look out the chalet window, feeling at peace even with the slight ache in your lower back. You’re nine months pregnant, and the baby could come any day now, but you wouldn’t have missed this trip for the world—not when it’s become such a special tradition for your family. You’d made sure Tony understood that before you left. Despite his protests, he finally agreed. But only under the condition that you’d “take it easy” and let him handle absolutely everything.

The chalet has become even more luxurious, thanks to Tony’s constant upgrades and “adjustments.” And though it’s outfitted with everything you could possibly need, from a medical suite to Jarvis-powered heating control, Tony is still on edge. You feel his watchful gaze follow you even as you wander just a few steps around the cozy living room. Even more surprising, Edward seems just as watchful, hovering nearby with a little furrowed brow that mimics his father’s.

“Mama, you need more water?” he asks for the third time in an hour, holding up a glass in his little mittened hand, though he looks a bit wobbly carrying it.

You smile, reaching down to take it. “Thank you, sweetie. You know, I think I’m good for now.”

He looks relieved, climbing up onto the couch beside you and cuddling into your side, immediately leaning down to put his face near your belly. It’s become his favorite spot, his “sister perch,” as he calls it. “Hi, baby Mia,” he whispers, his breath tickling your belly. “I got Mama water like you need. But you gotta wait a little bit, okay? ‘Cause you’re supposed to come after Christmas.”

You giggle, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “I think she’s listening, Eddie.”

Tony walks in from the kitchen with his own cup of coffee and grins, watching the two of you with unmistakable fondness. He’s got his eye on Edward, who’s started this protective routine almost as if on cue. You’ve noticed that ever since you arrived, Edward has been watching you with extra concern, following you room to room with a serious expression that makes him look adorably like a miniature version of Tony.

“Keeping an eye on Mama, huh?” Tony asks, dropping into the armchair beside you. He catches Edward’s eye and gives him a wink, which Edward dutifully returns with a nod.

“Daddy said I gotta be extra good and make sure you and Mia are okay,” Edward explains seriously, his hand now gently patting your belly. “Because if she comes early, it’s up to me to keep you safe too.”

You glance over at Tony, arching a brow. “So, you’ve enlisted a tiny helper?”

Tony smirks, leaning back in his chair with a mock-casual expression. “Well, let’s just say I figured another set of eyes wouldn’t hurt. Especially with someone as stubborn as you, Mrs. Stark, insisting on a nine-month-pregnant trip to the Alps.”

You roll your eyes, stifling a laugh. “Oh, so now I’m the stubborn one?”

He just grins, leaning forward to gently place his hand beside Edward’s, rubbing soothing circles across your belly. “Mia, just for the record, we’d prefer it if you’d wait a little longer to make your debut, okay? Let’s give Mommy a couple more quiet nights.”

Edward chimes in, “Yeah, you stay in there, Mia!” He lowers his voice to a loud whisper, as though she might be eavesdropping. “Daddy says it’s cozy and warm in there.”

Watching Tony and Edward both focused so intently on you and the baby makes you feel an overwhelming rush of affection. Tony may be playfully aloof at times, but you know how protective he is, and seeing Edward’s instinct to care for you just as much—it’s almost too much for your heart to handle.

Over the next few days, their vigilance only increases. Edward insists on helping with every little task, from picking up anything you drop to insisting you don’t leave the couch without him.

One afternoon, you’re sitting near the fire, Tony stretched out beside you with Edward nestled between you both. Edward has his hand on your belly, his little face serious as he leans over, “talking” to Mia about all the things he’ll show her once she’s born. You glance over at Tony, who’s pretending to read a book but has a smile on his face, clearly listening in.

“Yeah, and I’ll show you the big mountain,” Edward whispers to your belly. “And all the squirrels! But you gotta wait a little ‘cause you’re too tiny now.”

“Big brother’s got it all figured out, huh?” you murmur, looking over at Tony.

Tony gives a soft laugh. “He’s thorough, what can I say?”

When evening falls, you sit with Tony as Edward helps him prepare dinner in the kitchen. Tony’s pretending not to notice that Edward is sneaking more carrot slices than he’s putting in the salad, and you’re listening to their banter with a smile. Just as Tony finishes the final stir, he glances over at you, his eyes brightening.

“Alright, gorgeous, dinner’s served.” He and Edward bring everything over to the table, setting it up with an odd mix of finesse and excitement. Edward clambers into his chair, looking proudly at the setup.

As you all dig in, Edward turns to you, as serious as ever. “Mama, do you think Mia can eat with us next year?”

You chuckle, nodding. “I think she’ll be joining us for a lot of meals, honey. And you can help show her how everything works.”

“I’m good at showing stuff,” Edward says, sounding very grown-up. He stabs his fork into his food, then pauses to look at you. “Mommy, is Mia gonna need to wait for food like me?”

“Maybe at first,” you say, glancing at Tony as you add, “But she’ll have a big brother who can teach her all about snacks.”

Tony nods seriously, reaching over to give Edward a high-five. “That’s right, buddy. You’ll have to show her all the important stuff—especially the snacks.”

Edward beams, looking very pleased with himself. Dinner continues in this cozy, easy rhythm, filled with little jokes and laughter, until you find yourself feeling so relaxed you almost forget how close you are to your due date.

Late that night, after Edward is tucked in, you and Tony settle into bed, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, his hand resting instinctively on your belly. You sigh, leaning into his warmth, grateful for the peace and quiet.

“Think she’s getting cozy in there?” Tony murmurs, rubbing small circles on your belly.

“She seems content,” you whisper back, smiling. “But then again, so am I.”

A comfortable silence falls between you as Tony presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re going to have two little ones soon.”

You chuckle. “And you doubted our Alps trip.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Hey, better safe than sorry. If I had my way, we’d be back in New York near the best hospital in the state.”

“Relax,” you say, lacing your fingers through his. “We’ve got everything we need right here.”

And as you lie there, cradled in Tony’s arms with the baby softly moving beneath your hand, you feel a deep, calm certainty—no matter where you are, as long as your family is by your side, everything will be exactly as it should be.

The evening is peaceful as you sit by the fireplace in the chalet, warming up after a full day spent playing in the snow. Tony’s got an arm around your shoulders, holding you close, while Edward is curled up on the rug in front of you, arranging his toys with focused concentration. You’re enjoying the rare calm, your hand resting on your belly, feeling the little nudges and kicks that Mia has made her daily ritual.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp, intense pressure low in your abdomen—a sensation that makes you gasp, your hand gripping Tony’s arm on instinct.

“Hey, you okay?” Tony looks at you, his brow furrowing in concern. Edward glances up too, his toy race car frozen mid-drive as he watches you with wide eyes.

“Um… I think…” Another wave hits you, stronger this time, making you tense. You can’t help but wince as a rush of pain makes it clear exactly what’s happening. “Tony, I think it’s time.”

“Time? Time for—oh!” Tony’s face goes through a series of rapid changes, from confusion to realization to full-blown panic. “Time! Okay, okay. That’s fine. We knew this was coming. I’ve got this.” But his eyes are wide, and his hands are already shaking as he reaches for his phone, practically tossing it out of his pocket in his haste.

Edward’s face scrunches up with worry. “Mama, are you okay? Is Mia coming now?”

You manage a reassuring smile for him, though it’s strained. “Yes, sweetheart. Mia’s on her way.”

Edward’s little mouth forms a perfect “O” as he stands there, frozen with his toy car clutched in his hand. “But she’s not supposed to come yet!” He looks to Tony for confirmation, a touch of panic in his voice. “Daddy, she’s coming early!”

“Uh, yeah, she sure is, buddy,” Tony mutters, trying to steady himself as he dials for the hospital. But when the call goes unanswered, he swears softly under his breath, his face paling. “Right. Nearest hospital it is. I’ve got this. Totally got this. Y/N, do you need a bag? Should I carry you?”

You laugh—well, as much as you can while clutching your belly. “Tony, just help me to the car. And grab the bag we packed in the bedroom. It’s all set.”

He nods, snapping into action as he wraps an arm around you, helping you up as gently as he can. Edward trails closely, his eyes fixed on you, looking like he’s ready to burst into tears. “Mama, is it going to hurt a lot?”

You nod, managing a comforting smile. “It’s going to be okay, Eddie. But yes, sometimes it does hurt a bit.”

With a nod, he straightens up, puffing out his little chest as if he’s trying to be brave for you. “I’ll protect you, Mama,” he says with a firmness that makes Tony’s mouth twitch, though he’s too frantic to fully appreciate the cuteness of it.

Tony helps you out to the car, keeping an arm firmly around you while Edward scrambles into his seat in the back, buckling himself with serious focus. He’s quiet as he watches Tony settle you in, his gaze darting between the two of you.

“Okay, everyone’s in. We’re good. We’re going to the hospital,” Tony announces, gripping the wheel and peeling out of the driveway with more speed than finesse.

The drive is quiet, save for Tony’s constant mutterings and reassurances. “Almost there, babe. Hang on. We’ve got this.”

Edward, still wide-eyed and silent, keeps glancing from Tony to you, his little hands clasped in his lap. Finally, he leans forward and says softly, “Daddy, is Mia going to come soon?”

Tony gives him a reassuring smile in the rearview mirror. “Pretty soon, buddy. But she’s going to be just fine, and so is Mommy.”

A few minutes later, the hospital comes into view. Tony whips into the parking lot, barely managing to park the car before he’s jumping out, rushing around to help you. The nurses spot the three of you, and within moments, you’re whisked into the maternity ward with Tony by your side, Edward clinging tightly to his other hand.

After a moment of hesitation, Tony looks at Edward, his expression softening. “Okay, Eddie, I think it’s time for you to hang out with the nurses while we bring Mia into the world, alright?”

Edward’s eyes are filled with worry as he looks up at you, his little brow furrowed. “Are you sure, Daddy? Maybe I should help.”

You reach out and give his hand a gentle squeeze, smiling through the pain. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

Reluctantly, he nods and lets go, and a nurse leads him to the waiting room, promising him hot chocolate. Once he’s settled, you let yourself focus fully on the task at hand, breathing deeply as another wave of contractions hits.

Hours later, as dawn breaks over the mountains, you’re finally holding a tiny, pink-cheeked bundle in your arms. Mia is here, and she’s perfect, with soft wisps of dark hair and the tiniest little nose. Tony looks at her with an expression you haven’t seen before, a mixture of awe, wonder, and pure love.

“She’s… wow,” he murmurs, his voice choked. He reaches out, his finger stroking her soft cheek. “She’s here. She’s finally here.”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks as you watch him. “She is. And she’s beautiful.”

Just then, there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse steps in with Edward, who’s clutching a small, stuffed bear that he insists is for Mia. He’s a little hesitant, staring at the tiny bundle in your arms with wide, curious eyes.

“Eddie, come meet your sister,” Tony says, beckoning him over with a soft smile.

Edward steps forward slowly, his eyes fixed on Mia with fascination. He gently sets the bear down beside her and looks up at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is that really her?”

“Yes, sweetie,” you murmur, shifting Mia just enough so Edward can see her more clearly. “This is Mia. Your baby sister.”

Edward’s face lights up as he takes it in. He reaches out tentatively, gently touching her tiny hand. “Hi, Mia. I’m your big brother,” he whispers, looking awed. Then he glances up at you and Tony, his voice growing more confident. “I’ll take care of you, Mia. Just like I promised.”

Tony chuckles, ruffling Edward’s hair. “That’s right, bud. You’re the best big brother she could ask for.”

Once you’re back at the chalet, it’s as if the whole place is holding its breath for Mia. Even the snowfall outside seems to have softened, the sky a soft pink and blue haze as the sun rises over the Alps. Tony helps you get settled on the couch, Mia tucked warmly in your arms. Edward is right beside you, eyes wide and sparkling as he stares at his sister, still in awe of the tiny new family member.

“Mommy, can I…?” He trails off, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

Tony clears his throat, immediately stepping in. “Can you what, buddy?”

Edward meets Tony’s gaze with a bold determination. “Can I hold her?”

Tony opens his mouth, looking unsure. It’s clear he’s struggling, torn between letting Edward’s eager big-brother heart grow and the sheer terror of seeing his three-year-old son anywhere near such a delicate little bundle. You give Tony’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then smile softly at Edward.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. We’ll help you,” you say, and Tony shoots you a look that is part admiration and part mild panic.

With care and precision that would make any parent proud, you and Tony arrange Edward on the large bed, surrounding him with a fortress of pillows. He sits cross-legged, his little hands clasped in his lap, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

“Alright, Edward, remember—very, very gentle,” Tony instructs, his voice a little shaky as he settles Mia in Edward’s lap. The look on his face says he’s ready to leap in at any second.

Edward nods with the utmost sincerity, keeping his hands steady as he holds Mia, his tiny fingers brushing over her soft blanket. He gazes down at her with awe, and Mia, as if she already knows her brother, blinks up at him, her eyes round and calm.

“Hi, Mia,” he whispers, his voice almost reverent. “It’s me, Edward. I’m your big brother.”

Tony, standing a mere inch away, watches like a hawk, his eyes locked on Edward’s every move. If there were any way for him to be closer without actually holding Mia himself, he’d probably do it. You catch him clenching and unclenching his fists, clearly debating if he should interfere, even though Edward is doing perfectly well.

You chuckle softly, nudging Tony’s shoulder. “Breathe. He’s got this.”

“Breathe?” Tony whispers back, glancing at you like you’ve suggested he let Edward juggle china plates. “Babe, our son is three. Mia’s barely a week old. This is like… a recipe for chaos.”

“But look,” you murmur, smiling as you take in the sight before you.

Edward leans down slightly, his face inches from Mia’s, his little voice filled with wonder. “You’re so small, Mia. But I’ll help you get big. Just like me.”

You feel your heart melt, watching your son speak to Mia with the wisdom and warmth of someone far beyond his years. Mia, sensing something special, gives a little yawn, her face scrunching up before she settles comfortably in Edward’s lap.

Tony’s shoulders ease just a fraction, and he shakes his head with a small smile. “Alright, you’re right. He’s got this.”

After a few moments, Edward looks up at Tony with a mix of pride and excitement. “Daddy, she’s not crying!”

Tony laughs, reaching out to ruffle Edward’s hair. “She’s not crying because she likes you, buddy. You’re already doing an amazing job.”

Edward beams, sitting up a little taller. “Yeah, I think she does like me. I’ve been practicing, Daddy. With my teddy bear, remember?”

Tony chuckles, nodding. “All that practice paid off, didn’t it?”

Satisfied that Edward has everything under control, you settle back, letting yourself enjoy this peaceful moment. It’s incredible to see Tony’s eyes soften with such pride as he watches Edward. When Mia stretches a tiny hand and accidentally grabs one of Edward’s fingers, Edward lets out a little squeak of excitement.

“She’s so strong!” he says, looking up at Tony. “Look, Daddy! She’s already holding my finger!”

Tony’s grin widens, and he’s now fully invested, crouching beside the bed to get a better look. “She’s a Stark, all right. Strong from day one.”

You share a knowing smile with Tony. Somehow, it feels like the chalet, with its vintage wood and cozy, fire-lit rooms, has truly become your family’s haven. This yearly trip has become more than just a tradition—it’s a ritual of love and connection, a reminder of the life you and Tony have built together.

When Edward finally looks up, he gives Mia one last gentle hug before releasing her back into your arms. “Mommy, can I hold her again tomorrow?”

You smile, nodding. “Of course, Eddie. She’ll need all the big-brother cuddles she can get.”

“Deal,” he says with a grin, hugging his knees to his chest, his excitement making his little feet wiggle.

Later, when Edward’s sound asleep and Mia is curled up beside you, Tony wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. The fire crackles softly, casting a warm glow around the room, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“So, another perfect day?” he murmurs.

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. “Perfect in every way.”

I love family man Tony so much you guys can't even understand

[flowerveil02]

So, what IS Pokemon Reborn: Rainbow?

I'm glad you asked, anon! I'll put the answer simple above the cut and explain it in better detail below. Me and @nommyzommy will have a deep dive about Reborn: Rainbow in a later post.

WARNING: THIS IS A VERY LONG POST! You can just stick to the summary if you're not in the mood to read an excerpt as long as the bible!!

Put simply:

Reborn: Rainbow (from here forth called RR in this post) is an AU that combines elements of the white and black routes. It also contains original characters and events, including PULSEs, storyline, and even two entire cities with their own geography!

In detail:

RR mixes our favorite elements from both routes and changes some of them a little more to our preferences. It also allows us more screentime for our favorite characters that were kinda overshadowed or just straight-up put on a bus during the game :P Like Florinia, Serra, and more.

It also has new PULSEs and lore for Eve and the subsect of Team Meteor that creates them. And new lore for Team Meteor in general. Lots of the Alcantaras' history and influence is central to the fanfic.

Now, to begin on the characters: We made new characters (that we'll begin posting soon) and new arcs and designs for our favs! (Those are the RRr designs you've been seeing across our posts.) A lot more characters get to know each other, and the theme of the fanfic is a little bit more,, positive? More friendly? I just like games that are more optimistic! :)

And we've made new plot points and storyline! Like great news for Heather, the deforestation of a lot of the region's routes, and the recurrence of characters that were supposedly gone forever... *cough cough, the Belrose parents and Zina Vanhanen*

We've even made brand new cities and geography for them, too!! (Again, we'll touch up on these in a later post with finished maps and fixed details. Like the Jade Jungle is supposed to be bigger, etc.) First is Aquamarine City on Turquoise Island!

The Turquoise Islands have a tropical climate and are located in the Azurine Lake just under Reborn City. The island and city, Aquamarine City, are largely based on Florida and California. It and Coral Ward are conneceted by a large bridge that crosses the Azurine Lake. The surrounding geography includes jungles, beaches, coves, and mountains! It also has a string of small uninhabited islands called the Scallop Isands and a world-renowned tourist attraction called Draconite Isle, which features a dangerous temple that reportedly withholds treasures!

Second is Flinthearth Town!

The climate in the Flint Forest is humid temperate with hot summers and cold winters. Being located just south of Spinel Town, the area and town draw inspiration mostly from Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, and Texas. Many trains connect it to other territories of the region, including Spinel. The geography of the area is comprised of forests, mountains, lakes, and terraces. Their greatest attractions are the annual Flinthearth Fair (mirroring the Lincoln County Fair among other county fairs) and the abandoned (and reportedly haunted!) Alabaster Castle!

Shout out to @nommyzommy for her wonderful artwork on the maps! Expect to see refined future references for the areas on her page!

Thank you so so so much for asking!!! We'll begin posting about RR more in future updates! It makes me so happy to answer questions like this! And sorry for the longass post :P

Thanks for the ask, and stay groovy! <3

[itsmuffiiee]

What are your favorite DCA fics? Some of mine are Solar Lunacy, LDR, and Sleuth Jesters! :D

OKAY!! so I don’t think I have a favorite? I have fanfics I’m currently excited to see update though!! (Which is.. almost every fic I read but I’ll try to include some I’m ESPECIALLY excited about!!)

Enjoy some silly notes about each Fic Below!! ・・・★

Flaring Rays and Ivory Crescents

By @surrealkunstlerin

- Moon has a silly stupid laugh but let him have it..! he deserves it!

- How y/n spending isn’t giving them anxiety is beyond me- I think you gotta trust the robots to be financially intelligent

- I would just sort of lay in moons arm all day before they both got mad at me for not doing anything 😞

- Self indulgent.. my dream: sun and moon would be helpers that help me live a better life )::

Red sky

By Kettle_fish

- “I want two boyfriends, and I want by boyfriends to be boyfriends”

- 257k my beloved

- I really enjoyed the moments of y/n bonding with sun and moon in the cell ::3c

An Introvert Meets the Devil at the End of the World

By Kassykins

- post apocalyptic time!!

- sun is so traumatized

- Should of listended to y/n smh

- interactions between the bots and y/n … 12/10… the other humans though make me question humanity- I think however that’s is the point to be off put and disgusted by them

- I enjoy moon protecting y/n as their source of life and is trying to get sun not to FUCK IT UP

He’s a little confused but he got the spirit

By @midnight-mourning

- I can’t wait to see sun stare in the mirror and realize “oh god, I like them, oh god, oh no.. THAT THING IS WHAT I FALL FOR? You got to be kidding me!!”

- The Sun is burning out and is stressed )::

- Beloved moon in this fic, I hope he gets everything he wants and more

- Fanart MIGHT be in progress.. I am excited to draw these goobers

There Are Many Benefits (To Rethinking This Career Path)

By @moonliched

- Nessa x Chica was not on my 2024 bingo

- I need to see sun and moon get jealous more often

- Author please, please, let them have a sleep over someway somehow

- “I need to go into the ocean, I need to be in there” - y/n probably

- the little extra bits at the end of each chapter DO make me smile and brighten up my day immensely

If ongoing fics aren’t your style !! And you prefer completed stories I also have: Claw at the Stars by @vivisols !!

- NON HUMAN Y/N BELOVED !!

- more mermaids.. ::3

- I love all their fics sm.. ‹𝟹

> I have so many more fics to share (to ramble about).. so..so many but I’ll leave it here for now!! Thank you for asking!! Please be mindful of tags before reading! ::)

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

BUT WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERES NOT A LUMITY COMPETITIVE FIGURE SKATING AU?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN AO3!!

A CRIME. (/j)

I NEED AN ELABORATE RIVALS TO LOVERS STORY ABOUT THAT. I DO.

rich kid amity following her passion despite the disapproval of her family and luz whos self taught and born into trying to carry on the dream her parents failed to achieve. and then them being forced to work together in like duos despite hating one another. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND.

THERE COULD BE FAKE DATING TOO!!

I HAVE A VISION, BUT I NEED TO NOT START MORE AUS FFS.

ANYWAY.

lumity figure skating au when. WHEN??? 😭

[no-context-nonsense]

Pretend like it’s Saturday still. Why didn’t I post yesterday? Oh you know… I spent half the day crying and didn’t make the graphic. 😂

[angel---eater]

i kinda wish sometimes that i had more ppl to just like discuss and jam about meat&candy but im having way way way too much of a good time vibing on my own

[dizzybevvie]

For the choose violence ask game, would you mind doing 3 and/or 24 for ace attorney or httyd?

AAAA YEASS >:))) HTTYD

3. Worst take you've seen

OH GODDD I. WOW SO MANY. i think the question specifies tumblr but im in a httyd discord server (which is super inactive now but super duper thrived in early 2023) and the amount of strange people in there was wiiild

I remember seeing someone who absolutely HATED Astrid with their whole being, like made an OC to replace her etc etc, but like just COMPLETELY missed the point of her character.

Idk if I ever interacted with them directly but one of the main reasons they hated her is because in HTTYD2 when Hiccup becomes chief she smiles. Baffling. Like, she's obviously very upset Stoick is dead, but she's smiling because she's proud and staying strong for Hiccup. she's not "happy that Hiccup is getting the throne". i remember thinking it was so weird specifically because almost anything negative you can say about Astrid, you can say about Snotlout. but they had no problem with him. figures

24. Topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

oh godddd okay uhhh. i dont super-duper interact with the httyd fandom space outside of tumblr so i dont really knowwww. The Hidden World and the light fury is always crazy but idk.

The Snotcup debate is always fun /sar. I understand that they are not CANONICALLY cousins in the movie series but i truly just cannot see them as anything else theyre so cousins to me. i do NOT like Snotcup even a little bit.

Dagcup too actually? Dagur calling Hiccup "brother" of course but the age difference is the most concerning bit to me LMAO. I'm more of a Riders/Defenders of Berk enjoyer, so in my head theyre like, 15 and 20. not for me. (Although in my experience Dagur fans are often the biggest freaks sorry sorry sorry sorry)

I havent seen bad ship discourse in httyd fandom tbh but im sure it exists especially on twitter 💀.

[desperatecheesecubes]

Every time I see a post making fun of people being afraid to get into comics I think about how when I was first getting into comics I thought it would be fun to read Infinite Crisis because it was a HUGE event and it would give me an idea of what a whole slew of runs and characters were like. I made a post about some panel pretty early into the event (I think it was a build up comic that wasn't even officially part of the Road To Infinite Crisis so EARLY early) and some blog I didn't know made fun of me for not knowing the greater context of the panel I was commenting on. And while I was naively typing up a quick little 'ah sorry I'm new to comics and didn't know that. Thanks for the context!' they had gone through my blog and started doing the same for a bunch of other comics I'd read, and then mocked me for reading IC when I clearly new so little about comics.

Now, obviously, that behavior is ridiculous, and I just blocked them, but it did stick with me. It was one of my earliest interactions with comic fandom and I never forgot it. Most of the people I've intereacted with have been lovely. Even when I have gotten comic cannon wrong corrections are normally very kind. But not all of them are, and the ones who aren't are so vocal about it.

So i actually don't think it's the comics themselves that make getting into comics an unappealing prospect.

[allylikethecat]

K, L, E!!

YES OH MY GOSH HELLO ANON thank you so much for indulging me and sending questions from the Fanfic Ask Meme!! As always, I LOVE chatting about fic (mine and other peoples!) and I get so excited when people send me these! If anyone wants to send anymore, or reblog it themselves, the list can be found HERE.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

This is a hard question because I feel like all of my fics are pretty angst heavy? I know I published it anonymously, but I think Immoral in a Stranger's Lap was probably one of the most painful, especially because it didn't really have a resolution or a happy ending, the same goes for (Sometimes). It's still in the early stages of outlining, (and I'm writing it because I am firmly in the we need more mpreg in this fandom camp) but the Teen Dad Fictional!Matty fic is also shaping up to be pretty angsty - it's looking like it's going to be a split narrative alternating between 16 year old Fictional!Matty dealing with teen pregnancy and present day thirty something year old Fictional!Matty trying to get pregnant on purpose and struggling to do so which I know deals with a lot of really heavy and painful topics.

L: What’s the weirdest AU you’ve ever come up with?

I feel like all of them 😂 But I guess, since it's not really popular in this fandom I'm going to say omegaverse even though it was very common in my other fandom experiences.

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

I'm choosing to talk about Small Bump because I was working on Make Way for Ducklings earlier and clearly have mpreg on the mind. If I were to writing a sequel to that one, it would be dealing with Fictional!Matty's postpartum depression.

Thank you so much for sending these in! Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to send this ask, and for your continued support! I'm really grateful for the people who have not only taken the time to read my fics, but who have also taken the time to engage with me! I really appreciate you! I hope your Wednesday is going well and that you have a great rest of your week!

❤️Ally

[solardrink]

Shoutout to plo koon the only star wars character ever

[madlori]

On being an older fangirl

I was probably 10 years old when I first conceived of what was, looking back, fanfiction. Me and my best friend would lie in bed together on sleepovers and I'd make up stories about what happened after the end of our favorite book, "The Westing Game." She'd ask me for more stories, and I'd tell her more, inventing them as I went along. "Then what?" she'd say.

I was 14 when I went to my first convention. I had discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was 1987, and my youth pastor was a huge Trekkie. He took me to a one-day crappy Creation con, but it was amazing to me. I met Nichelle Nichols. My dad showed me the Trek movies. He and I watched TNG together.

When I went to college in 1991, my dad used to videotape TNG episodes onto VHS tapes and mail them to me, so I could keep watching (I didn't have TV in my dorm room).

By the time I was a senior, we had Trek watching parties in the dorm lounge, where the TV had cable. Star Trek: Voyager had started up, and I wrote a column about it for the college newspaper. I joined a mailing list about it, with people in it that I still know today.

I got my first computer that could go online in 1995. I was on newsgroups. I discovered Doctor Who. I went to Trek conventions where we still passed around fanzines containing fic and art and smutty K/S fan creations.

Then it was Harry Potter. Then there were websites. Then there was Geocities, where we could all make our own little spots. We organized them into webrings. We talked on newsgroups and mailing lists. There were fanfic archives. Then there was fanfiction.net.

Then...there was LiveJournal. And we could interact in entirely new ways. We could form communities, and debate things, and fight over canon, and get into ship wars. On LiveJournal, I met my best friend of 22 years. I was in her wedding. She's my sister of the heart (which is what she calls me).

Then there was Tumblr. And Twitter. And now there's Discord. But it's all the same.

I am the same.

I am still that little girl who made up fanfiction in her head to entertain her best friend. I am still the one who was amazed to find communities on the internet - which was so new, so raw, so uncommodified - where others like me could meet. I found there people to meet in real life.

I am still that twentysomething going to her first major convention, being told that someone loved my fic, being asked about my writing process.

I am still that thirtysomething watching something I wrote blow up. Seeing friends from other fandoms find me in new ones, finding them there, too. Forgetting which fandom I know someone from, because I've known them for twenty years.

I still know some of the people who created those early websites, those mailing lists, those archives. I still meet people in new fandoms who say "Oh, I read your fic in [fandom] fifteen years ago!" There's no feeling quite like having someone remember something you wrote for that long. Or meeting someone whose fic meant a lot to YOU, or who you talked with on rec.arts.drwho.creative in 1997.

Aging in fandom is a gift. Being middle-aged in fandom is a joy. Having people who still read what I write and ask "Then what?" is a blessing.

It breaks my heart that so many people see it as something to be ashamed of, when it is one of my life's greatest gifts.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

.

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.” 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

[smileysuh]

real talk

🌙 starring. Mark Lee x afab!Reader

🔮 preview.“You’re Jeno’s roommate, Jeno’s my friend- I know we’ve just met, but I know things about you.” Hyuck explains. “When you were with your last girl, Jeno used to come to the bar and bitch about you never coming out- he’s been wanting you to meet the rest of the boys for a while, but never wanted to invite us over cuz your last girlfriend had some supernatural cootchie-grip hold on you or something- point is, I know you’re a serial monogamist. Two long-term girlfriends. You like the domestic shit, and I get that- but if you want domestic, it’s not our little Miss Sunshine expo girl. She can’t even sleep next to guys she’s fucked- wakes up at five am, and dips out without a word. Trust me on this, dude, you wanna stay far away from that man-eater.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, reader has a hard time cumming, oral (f/m receiving), Mark is a MUNCH, deep throating, fingering, masturbation, use of toys/vibrator, dirty talk, praise, Mark is a simp, sex realism, overthinking during sex, mentions of sexual favours in return for affection, a string of bad ex-lovers, breast worship, creampies, aftercare, finger sucking, drunkenness, etc… I pet names: (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy boy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 19.4k

🍭 aus. Restaurant au, line chef!Mark, slow burn, coworkers to lovers, fuck girl who looks like sunshine meets a serial monogamist who looks like a fuckboy, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I wanted to touch on some realism to kick off the year. Not everything is as easy during sex as it appears in fanfic/p*rn, so I wanted to make something that might be more true to the real experience of afabs who overthink and need extra help to cum- I hope maybe this fic can normalize girls who need some extra machine power to get off ;)

One:

Mark has only been working at his new restaurant for two weeks, but he’s already fallen in love with the place. Morning shifts have been good for him.  With the help of his favorite expo girl - who always takes the time to explain small details and things he’s been messing up on - he’s already gotten used to the menu. Every day feels better and better.

“This tuna is looking so good, Mark,” you grin, inspecting the plate. 

When he’d first been hired, the fish he’d cut had come out mangled, but after talking him through it, you’d both realized it had been a knife issue. Sharpening his blade had led to Mark perfecting his slices, and now, he eagerly awaits your praises when he puts his food up in the expo window. 

Mark’s eyes follow you as you dart off toward the bar, the plate of tuna balanced perfectly in your hand. The new chef can’t help the smile that works its way onto his lips, and he leans forward, hand flat on the cutting board station in front of him.

“This tuna is looking so good, Mark,” Hyuck’s annoying voice snaps him out of his trance, and Mark turns to look at the man next to him. “God, can you two make it any more obvious that you’re into each other?”

“She’s just doing her job,” Mark assures the other line chef, but he can feel his skin heating at the idea.

“Sure she is. But she doesn’t compliment my cooking as much as she does yours.” Hyuck crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a sigh as his gaze shifts to the view through the expo line. You’re at the bar now, chatting with the man who you’ve just served. However, you’re taking longer than normal, and you’re smiling a lot too.

“No fucking way,” Hyuck breathes, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “That guy is hitting on her.”

“Is he?” Mark also dips his head toward the expo window, eager for a look.

“Yeah, mans just slipped her his number,” Hyuck laughs. “That’s our little Sunshine though, isn’t it? This restaurant is her playground.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asks.

“Just that she’s quite popular,” Hyuck brushes it off as you approach the expo line again. “Did you get a number, sweet thing?”

“Why, you jealous?” You grin, holding up the slip of paper with digits on it. 

“You wish,” Hyuck scoffs, but Mark gets the feeling there’s something else going on between the two of you, something unspoken. He’s still getting used to the dynamic of the restaurant, and in work spaces like this, relationships aren’t uncommon. He wonders what history you have with Hyuck, wonders what chance he has with you- wonders if it’s even a good idea.

Two

“Luna never runs her own food,” Sumi notes, standing with you by the entrance to the restaurant while you watch the tall waitress lean against the expo window. “I know that our new chef is cute, but, damn.”

“She can do what she wants,” you laugh, wiping down menus. “Makes my job easier.”

“You know, it’s kind of felt like you and Mark have some sort of understanding,” Sumi grins, moving close enough that your hips touch by the host station. “He watches you a lot.”

“Does he?” Your gaze moves back to the expo line.

“Uh huh, almost as much as Hyuck does- which, by the way, you sure did a number on him.”

“Hyuck will get over it, he’s a fuck boy,” you wave your hand. “I’m great at attracting that kind of guy.”

“Do you get fuck boy vibes from Mark?” Sumi wonders, tapping her pen against the top of her Ipad thoughtfully.

“He’s definitely cute enough to be a womanizer, don’t you think?”

“Key word being cute,” Sumi points out. “I don’t know, he doesn't give me fuck boy vibes like the other line chefs do.”

“Well, he’s roommates with Jeno, isn’t he?” Your eyes move to the bar. Jeno’s a night bartender, but his close friend, Renjun is working today. “Jeno’s a fuck boy, he got Hyuck and Jaemin jobs here. They’re both fuck boys. It would make sense if Mark was that kind of guy too.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Sumi states, crossing an arm over her chest. “Speaking of men though- whatever happened to that guy who gave you his number the other day? Are you actually considering a date with him?”

“I already had a date with him,” you admit. 

“Yikes, from the way you haven’t mentioned it at all, I’d guess it didn’t go so well?”

“Meh,” you shrug your shoulders. “He won’t be getting a second date.”

“How many first dates have you been on this year?” Sumi asks. “Didn’t you say it was like… a lot?”

“Too many to count,” you giggle. 

“So what’s the deal with that? Like- what’s your type? I know you were seeing Hyuck for a little while, how come that didn’t work?”

“It just didn’t,” you say, looking down at the menus you’ve wiped clean. “I try not to think about my failures too much.”

“Really? But you could learn so much from them,” Sumi frowns. “I mean- look at me and Doyoung. I was never into the more serious types, always went for fuck boys and younger guys- but after some soul searching, I realized I needed someone older who had their shit together.”

“You also have a thing for guys in powerful positions, and Doyoung is literally one of our managers,” you point out.

“Well, I’m still a work in progress,” Sumi winks. “Anyways- think about it. If you look at your dating patterns, you might be surprised by what you find.”

Three

There’s nothing like the air outside after being in a hot kitchen for a few hours. The lunch rush is finally over, and after having a 20 top that ordered an insane amount of food with an even crazier amount of modifications and allergies, Mark is ready to take a massive puff from his vape pen.

He stands by the back exit to the restaurant, looking out at the cars on the street as he takes a long drag. As he inhales, the door behind Mark opens, and he turns to come face-to-face with you.

The shock of seeing you makes him choke a little, and he begins to cough out a large puff of smoke. Mark’s lungs burn, and his skin feels even hotter, enflamed by the embarrassment of you seeing him take a crappy hit when in reality, he’s a vaping veteran. 

“You good?” you ask, reaching out and gently rubbing his back as you step past him.

“Yeah, I, uh-” Mark’s entire body tingles at the physical contact. “Sorry, you just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you grin, stopping in front of him. He notices the way your eyes go to his vape pen, and he immediately holds it out to you.

“Want some?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.” You reach out and accept the sleek black vape. “What’s the flavor?”

“Uh… cotton candy?” God, Mark feels like a fool, especially when you raise a brow at him. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Didn’t peg you as a sweet tooth type,” you grin, bringing the refillable device to your lips. Mark watches you take a drag, focusing on your mouth and the way you look sucking on something- he starts to imagine what you’d look like sucking on something else, something substantially bigger. 

As you exhale, you cough a little, and Mark wonders if you’re doing that to make him feel better about his screw-up a moment ago- or maybe you simply don’t vape often, he’s not too sure. 

“Thanks,” you say, still coughing as you hand the vape back to Mark. Your fingers brush gently as he accepts it from you, and as Mark brings the device to his mouth, he’s extremely aware of the fact that your lips had just been where his now are. 

He wonders if it means anything that you’d be so willing to swap spit like this, even on something as innocent as a vape pen. 

“How long are you here till?” you ask, breaking him from his daze. 

“Started at seven am, eight-hour shift, should be off around three when the night cross-over guys come in,” Mark explains. 

“Any fun plans for tonight?” you continue to press. “It is a Friday after all.”

“No plans, will probably just go home, make some food, and watch Netflix all night… what about you?”

You sigh. “No hot dates, unfortunately. Will probably do the same as you. Do you have any good show recommendations? I’ve been looking for something new.”

“I mean, it depends, what are you into?” Mark asks, eager to hear more about your tastes, your likes and dislikes- he knows so little about you, mostly things related to work. He’s curious about what you do in your downtime, and he’s grateful he has an opportunity like this to get to know you even a little bit better.

As you part your lips to respond, the back door swings open, and Hyuck steps out, already mid-puff of his neon orange vape. 

“Oh,” the line chef grins, exhaling through his nose and flashing a grin, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you respond quickly, and Mark notes the shift in your energy, “I was just leaving actually.”

“See you later,” Mark offers, watching you hurry off. 

“Classic her,” Hyuck sighs, coming to stand next to Mark.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a runner, that one,” Hyuck takes another puff from his vape.

“So you two definitely used to date,” Mark states. The interaction he’s just witnessed verifies his suspicion, and since they’re technically outside of work/the kitchen, Mark feels able to actually discuss this now.

“I don’t know if I’d call it dating,” Hyuck cocks his head to the side, eyes still fixed on you where you’re crossing the street a couple hundred feet away. “Look, do you want real talk? You wanna know about your favorite expo girl?”

“Yeah, I wanna know.” Mark lifts his vape to his lips, readying himself for whatever is about to come out of Hyuck’s mouth.

“I know she looks like sugar and sunshine, but I hate to burst your bubble Mark- she’s a bit of a fuck girl, that one.” 

“It takes one to know one,” Mark points out.

“Touche, but to be fair, I never claimed to be anything other than a guy who likes pussy, and little miss sunshine knew that when we started hooking up a few months ago.” Hyuck lets out another large puff of smoke into the air. “Look, I said I’d give you real talk so here it is. She’s got a lot of expectations. Girl reads those horny romance books-”

“Erotica.”

“Yeah, that’s it, erotica.” Hyuck nods to himself. “Well, she reads erotica, and her ideas about fucking are kind of hard to make real. She’s too in her head all of the time. Apparently - and don’t repeat this anywhere - but apparently no guy she’s fucked has ever made her actually cum. She has this thing where someone told her that if a guy doesn’t make you cum, he doesn’t add to your body count, so allegedly her body count is zero and she’s a virgin, but we both know it’s a lot higher than that.” 

“The whole body count thing doesn’t phase me,” Mark says quietly, although the wheels in his head are spinning.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Hyuck scoffs. “Just listen, if you’re into her, it’s not going to work out. She’s not for beginners like you.”

“Beginners like me?” Mark side eyes the line chef.

“You’re Jeno’s roommate, Jeno’s my friend- I know we’ve just met, but I know things about you.” Hyuck explains. “When you were with your last girl, Jeno used to come to the bar and bitch about you never coming out- he’s been wanting you to meet the rest of the boys for a while, but never wanted to invite us over cuz your last girlfriend had some supernatural cootchie-grip hold on you or something- point is, I know you’re a serial monogamist. Two long-term girlfriends. You like the domestic shit, and I get that- but if you want domestic, it’s not our little Miss Sunshine expo girl. She can’t even sleep next to guys she’s fucked- wakes up at five am, and dips out without a word. Trust me on this, dude, you wanna stay far away from that man-eater.”

Four

“Mark?” you ask, looking at the takeout bowl in front of you.

“Yeah?” he leans forward, lips parting as he waits for your judgment.

“Didn’t they order the spicy yogurt on the side?” You push the rice bowl forward, pointing at the lines of orange tinted cream that cover the veggies. 

“Shit,” Mark cusses, grabbing the chit-paper receipt and scanning it. “There were like, three other modifications, I didn’t even see the yogurt on the side.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “It’s takeout, and there’s pretty much no one in the restaurant, so you have time to make another… besides, I’ll just take this one as my lunch.”

One of the perks of the job is getting to take home the food that’s not correct. You’d been dreading going to the grocery store, your fridge empty of easy meals, but now you don’t have to make the trek, and you’re more than happy about it.

“You know, Mark, you’re my favorite new chef.” He’s also the only new chef, and you’ve been reaping the rewards of minor fuck ups the past two weeks. 

Mark, however, doesn’t seem to note your teasing, and he offers you a genuine smile. “You’re my favorite expo girl.”

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why’s that?”

“You’re really nice about things I mess up,” Mark’s eyes shift to the dragon bowl you’re packing up. “Like, you point things out, and you turn them good. As you said, it’s an easy fix, I have the time, and now you get to eat that.” 

“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, that’s for sure,” you laugh. 

“You’re also pretty happy most days, always makes me happy to come in and see our Little Miss Sunshine.” 

“Jeeze, not you calling me that pet-name too,” you roll your eyes. Hyuck had taken to calling you that a few months ago, and somehow the title had stuck. Mark was the only chef using your real name, but it looks like those days might already be behind you.

“It fits,” Mark assures you. “I think it’s cute.”

“Does it fit because I’m cute?” 

You notice the way Mark immediately swallows thickly, his skin turning a pretty shade of pink. “Uh- I mean, yeah,” his voice cracks, and he fiddles with his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows, “you’re cute-”

“Oh my God-” you stare at his forearms, which are usually covered by his chef coat. “Have you always had all those tattoos?!”

“Did you really never notice these?” Mark looks down at his arms, lifting them so you can see the details.

“I have never noticed them,” you confirm, leaning forward. “Damn, how many tattoos do you have?!”

“A lot?” Mark’s tattoos are patchwork style, all black. They litter his forearms, and you wonder how high up the markings go- you wonder if his chest is covered, or his back- what about his legs?

“I need a tattoo tour,” you insist.

“I mean… I can’t show you all of them-” Mark says sheepishly. 

“Start with that one,” you point at a tattoo of three letters near his inner elbow, “What’s SSG mean?”

“So uh- the first restaurant I worked in, a few of us dishwashers worked our way into the kitchen with no formal training or anything- just started at the bottom, and went up from there. One of us came up with the idea of being the Soapy Suds Gang, like- dishwashers to chefs. Was at that restaurant from the age of fifteen to twenty, and when it closed down cuz the owners just didn’t wanna be in the business anymore, me and all the others got the matching SSG tattoo.”

Mark is adorable. Like, shockingly so. It’s such a stupid yet endearing story- and for some reason, it feels so on-brand for Mark. 

He begins to tell you about a few other tattoos. There’s a shotgun to commemorate his years playing Call of Duty online with friends. A cartoon puppy because apparently his mom never let him get a dog - something about him not being able to handle it if the dog ever died - so when he turned eighteen, he got a dog that could never bite the bullet, etched into his skin with black ink. 

All the marks have meaning, stories that make up the groundwork of Mark’s life. 

“What about that one?” you ask, noting a King of Hearts tattoo that he’d skipped over.

“Oh, uh…” Mark rubs the back of his neck shyly. “My ex-girlfriend wanted a Queen of Hearts tattoo, so I got this one, and… I mean, I don’t regret it, I was with the girl for three years- but, it’s not a tattoo I talk about too often.”

“Three years?” you ask in shock. “You were with your last girlfriend for three years?”

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

“It’s just- I mean,” you lick your lips, leaning in so Mark’s the only one who can hear you, “I hate to say it, Mark, but you look like a total fuck boy.”

“I’m really not,” Mark admits. 

“Even before your last ex?”

“Even before,” the line chef confirms. “I’ve got two ex-girlfriends. The last one ended about a year ago, dated her from age twenty-two to twenty-five. Had a girlfriend from when I was sixteen to twenty-one-”

“So a three-year relationship and a five-year relationship?” 

This gossip keeps getting juicier and juicier. 

“Yeah. The first one moved to another country to teach English, and I’ve never been that into long distance. We tried to make it work, but we agreed the best thing was to let each other go. Then the last girl decided she wanted more from life than some line chef so…” Mark trails off and you feel your heart hurt for him. “Anyways, what about you? How many relationships have you had?”

“A lot more than you,” you answer quickly, although, that’s only if you count one-night stands, flings, and situationships, but you won’t go into those details with Mark right now. “I mean… are you looking for anything right now?”

“What do you mean?” Mark cocks his head to the side.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but… a few of the waitresses are into you,” you whisper.

“Really?” he looks past you at the restaurant, and you see him trail Luna with his eyes. “That’s nice and everything, but waitresses really aren’t my type.”

“Then what’s your type?”

“Expo girls.” 

His words hit you in your chest, and you can feel your pulse quicken immediately.

“I mean-” Mark’s skin has returned to that pretty pink colour. “My first girlfriend- the five-year one, she was the expo girl when I met her- we got close cuz we spent so much time together. I didn’t mean you- I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything- not that I don’t think you’re cute, cuz you’re definitely cute- fuck.”

You watch him, smiling and completely amused. It appears you’d read the new line chef all wrong. He’s not a fuck boy, he’s a lover boy, and you kind of adore that about him.

“I should uh- I need to remake this dragon bowl-” Mark turns away from you, and you watch him scurry off to the fridge to grab vegetables. 

You’re kind of hoping to tease him so more when he returns, but before he does, Doyoung appears from the back, and he waves you over. “It’s been dead for half an hour,” your manager notes, “you’re cut. Head home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Five

Mark hasn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation. All night, he’d had you on his mind- and he’d kind of been hoping to get to talk to you today, but you have the day shift and this is one of his first nights scheduled.

Even so, Mark arrives to work thirty minutes early just on the off chance he’ll catch you, and as he’s waiting outside the backdoor, hitting his vape, his hopes come true.

You step out of the back of the restaurant, looking down at your phone. The jacket you’re wearing today is vibrant in contrast to your all-black uniform, and the comfy sneakers you always put on after your shift in flats are beginning to look a little worn out now that winter is almost over. 

“Hi,” Mark says, drawing your attention.

“Oh,” you put your phone into your pocket, offering him a smile. “Hey- you just starting?”

“In ten minutes or so,” the line chef nods. “I uh- I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Apologize for what?” You cock your head to the side. 

“All of it?” Mark suggests.

You laugh, and the sound does things to Mark that he’ll never be able to express. “Seriously, we’re all good,” you assure him. “I think you’re pretty cute too, so, don’t worry about any of it.”

Mark’s mouth feels dry, and it’s not just from the vaping. He fiddles with the device in his hand, working up the courage to say what’s on his mind. “I was wondering- I mean, it sounds like you’re still on the market and all- so I was thinking, maybe, if you’d like- maybe we can go out sometime, or something- but no pressure.”

Your smile widens, and you step closer to him. “What would going out with you look like?”

“Honestly…” Mark swallows thickly, “it would look more like staying in. Since we both work in a restaurant- or maybe it’s just a ‘me thing’, but I’m not super into drinks as a first date, or even food- I’m a bit of a homebody. I’d love for you to just come over, watch some netflix, talk- that sort of shit.”

You look him up and down, and Mark’s body tenses as he waits for your response.

“That actually sounds pretty nice,” you admit. “Here, give me your hand.”

Mark holds out his palm, watching you pull out a Sharpie from your pocket. You write your phone number across his skin. “Careful,” you say, as you draw the last digit, “Don’t wash this off or anything.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, already planning on taking a picture of it with his phone just in case. 

“I should get going, but yeah- text me when your shift is over and we can figure something out.” 

“You got it,” Mark grins, unable to hold in his excitement any longer. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” 

With one final exchange of eye contact that makes Mark’s heart lurch in his chest, you walk off, the line chef’s eyes following you all the way out of sight. 

As he turns to head inside, Mark bumps into Hyuck. “Don’t go in just yet,” Hyuck insists, “stay out here and vape with me for a minute.”

It’s hard for Mark to focus on anything Hyuck is saying about the afternoon rush, but he manages to nod and make sounds of affirmation while his coworker rants about some party of fifteen that walked in and only ordered appetizers. 

“Mark, you’re not paying attention,” Hyuck sighs.

“Sorry, I’m just kind of-” Mark swallows the lump in his throat, “yeah, I’m distracted.”

“Got a hot date?”

“What?” Mark looks up.

“Someone wrote their digits on your hand,” Hyuck grabs at Mark’s wrist, “let’s see-”

Mark tries his best to pull away, but Hyuck’s already assessing the phone number. After a moment, the younger man lets go, his mouth forming a firm line. “I warned you about her.”

Mark’s surprised that Hyuck - who has the memory of a goldfish most days - clearly recognizes your phone number. 

“I told you she’s not for beginners.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to listen to you,” Mark insists. “And not everything is about fucking. She’s gonna come over, we’re gonna watch movies- nothing has to happen. I just want to know her better.”

“Lover boy,” Hyuck scoffs, “she’s going to eat you up, and spit you back out.”

“And if she does, then that’s my choice,” Mark says firmly. “I know she fucked you over or whatever, but that doesn’t mean anything to me, Hyuck. I’m sorry, but I really don’t care about what happened between the two of you.”

“Ouch, dude.”

“If she’s as bad as you say, then you can say you told me so when this is all over. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Six

“So this is Jeno’s famous fuck pad,” you tease, stepping into Mark’s apartment and looking around. 

“Uh, he doesn’t actually bring girls here that often,” Mark says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “He likes to go to their place, makes it easier to run than kicking a girl out the next morning, you know?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod… you usually fuck guys in their homes for the same reason. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thanks, my ex had a lot to do with the decor and shit.” Now that Mark mentions it, the vibe definitely doesn’t scream ‘boy’, and it especially doesn't scream ‘home of a line chef and bartender.’ 

The cream-colored couch in the living room has pretty sage pillows, there’s a tasteful rug under a circular coffee table. On the table are three candles varying in size, as well as a design book that you’d bet has never been opened or looked at in detail by the men who live here.

It’s a comfortable home, but you wonder what it feels like for Mark to live in a space that constantly reminds him of an ex who ditched him for not having his own shit together.

“I didn’t realize Jeno was a tidy guy,” you note, thinking back to the line of dirty cups he always allows to build up in the bar dish area. 

“He’s not, but I am.” Mark enters the living room, and he takes a seat on the couch, kicking his legs up onto a small puff stool next to the coffee table. “I guess when you work on the line, you’re used to doing little clean-up jobs to keep everything smooth. I don’t mind moving two or three beer cans to the sink every day if it means there aren’t any piles building.” 

So he’s a sexy line chef, with tattoos, who likes long-term relationships, and also cleans up his home? Mark really is a catch amongst flounders.

“Are you going to come sit?” Mark asks, noting the way you stand at the edge of the room. “Or, shit, should I offer you a drink first? We’ve got beer, or I could make you a cocktail or something-”

“I’m good, just… getting used to this.” 

It feels kind of odd to be with Mark in a casual setting. You’ve only ever seen him in a professional manner, with an expo station between you both- now, Mark is right in front of you, and as you sit on the couch next to him, you’re hyper-aware of the way your thighs almost touch.

“So… Netflix?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mark grabs the remote, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed up so you can see his forearms. 

“You still haven’t given me a full tattoo tour,” you tease, reaching out to gently trace the puppy etched against his skin.

“Maybe that’s a date number two sort of thing,” Mark suggests, tugging the fabric down to cover his skin.

Your grin widens. “Do I make you nervous, puppy boy?” 

“Definitely,” he lets out a shy laugh, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob with the effort of swallowing. “So uh… what do you wanna watch?”

You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the couch. “Surprise me.”

“Well, there’s this anime I’ve been wanting to get into-” Mark finds the show in his ‘to watch’ list.

“Let's do it.”

“Really? You’re down?”

“Uh huh, I’m not that picky,” you nod, offering him a smile.

“It can be…” he starts the first episode, “like- if you wanna keep doing this sort of thing, it could be our show.”

“That actually sounds nice,” you admit. You suppose it shouldn’t be a shock that Mark is thinking long term- you do work together after all, but when you’d been seeing Hyuck, every day was a question of longevity. Would he call? Would he not call?

Hyuck never talked in definitives. He never made promises. The only true thing you could count on was seeing him at work three of five days of the week when your schedules aligned, and he never locked himself in for any more than that. 

“Should I-” Mark licks his lips, “I mean, finding a show was way easier than I thought it would be. Do you want a drink? I’ve got chips?”

“I’m okay, but if you want something, you should grab it.”

“I’m good if you’re good,” Mark mutters, leaning back against the couch. Your shoulders are touching, and you’re already finding it difficult to focus on the tv screen as the anime begins to play.

You’re aware of each breath, each slight shift of Mark’s body. “Are you comfortable?” he asks after a short while.

“I mean, we could probably find a more comfortable position than this one,” you note. 

“Like… do you wanna cuddle?”

“If you want to, I’d be up for that.”

“Okay, one sec,” Mark turns, grabbing at the back cushion of the couch. He tosses it to the side. “I can big spoon you.”

In under a minute, Mark is settling behind you, pillows are adjusted, and a gentle hand finds your hip. You wiggle slightly, trying to get snug against the line chef’s chest. 

“Is this good?” he asks, his breath ghosting by your ear.

“It’s nice, but let me just…” you grab his hand, threading your fingers and bringing it up to your chest, so you’re truly wrapped in his embrace. You can feel his heart against your spine, and you can hear the way his breath catches. “That’s better,” you let out a sigh of relief. 

The anime is fun, but you’re much too focused on Mark. Something tells you he’s quite focused on you as well, and finally, your patience snaps. You roll onto your back, looking up at him.

“You good?” he prompts.

“Uh huh. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shrug. “I guess maybe I’m just wondering what work is going to be like tomorrow.”

“Hopefully busy.”

You laugh at how innocent Mark can be. “I mean in terms of cuddling with you tonight, then working together in the morning.”

“I mean… how was it with Hyuck when you two were seeing each other?” 

Your heart clenches. “Oh… he uh… he told you about that, huh?”

“Mentioned it once or twice.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“For the most part,” Mark nods. “But just so you know- I don’t take everything Hyuck says seriously. You two had something going on, but every relationship is different. I’m sure you have your own side to the story. I know you’re a good person - that’s what my heart tells me at least - so that’s what I’m going off of.”

You stare up at the line chef. The man you’d pegged as a fuck boy, who is turning out to be the farthest thing from a womanizer that you’ve ever met.

You can’t help but reach up and cup his face. There aren’t words that come to mind, but you hope your expression shows your gratitude for his kindness.

Mark’s gaze dips to your mouth, and you watch the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on his slightly. “So no pressure or anything,” he says, voice cracking, “but uh… can I kiss you?”

“You can kiss me,” you confirm, staying still and waiting for the precious man to make his move. Part of you is scared to take control- you’re worried about scaring Mark off, like you’d scare off a wild bird with one wrong muscle twitch. 

You’re still cupping his face, and Mark mirrors the act, gently cupping your cheek. He looks down at you, searching your eyes for a moment. You wonder if he’s looking for any hesitation, any sign that you regret your affirmative answer. Then he looks at your lips, and you can see some of the tension leave his body.

In fact, you see the exact moment Mark decides to give in to his desires. His lips part ever so slightly, his brown eyes shyly meeting your own as he begins to move in closer-

As his mouth presses to your own, you realize this might be the softest kiss a man has ever bestowed upon you. He’s not trying to shove his tongue down your throat- not biting at your lip and asking for entrance. It’s a simple brush of lips on lips, and it leaves you wanting more.

Your hand finds the back of his neck, and you drag him closer, letting out a small mewl. You capture his bottom lip between your own, suckling on it gently-

Mark pulls away, and your eyes open. You’re disappointed, but when you notice Mark breathing heavily, your annoyance dissipates.

“Was that okay?” you ask, worrying that maybe you’d been going too fast for the soft man.

“Yeah- better than okay,” he assures you. 

“Can we… can you kiss me again?”

“Uh huh,” he nods, leaning back down to press his lips against your own. His hand finds your hip, and you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss is just as gentle as the first, but the passion begins to burn brighter with each passing second.

No one has ever kissed you like this.

You can’t explain it- but in a matter of moments, your attraction to Mark has grown tenfold. 

When he breaks away from you for a second time, you’re both breathing heavily. You open your eyes to stare up at the pretty line chef, watching him swallow thickly.

 “Should we uh… should we keep paying attention to the show?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “Yeah, we should.” You roll onto your side again, and Mark settles against your back. He tucks you closer, his fingers threading through yours. 

It’s impossible to focus now, and you begin to wiggle slightly, pressing your ass back against the front of his jeans.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Mark asks, letting go of your hand to grab your hip, steadying you.

“I’m fine- I’m just…” - unbelievably horny - “you’re a good kisser.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Thanks. I liked kissing you too.”

“So…” you look over your shoulder at him, “wanna kiss me again?”

Mark grins, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

As with the first two times, Mark pulls away much too fast for your liking.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never experienced a situation like this. Mark is being respectful- he’s keeping his hands in PG locations, and the kisses have involved zero tongue- does he not like you as much as you like him?

How much do you like this line chef?

Do you like him because he’s not completely fawning over you like you’re used to?

What is going on?!

“I just want you to know,” Mark says, “it sounds like you’re used to fuck boys and shit, and I uh- well, I’m not like them. There’s no pressure to get naked or anything today-” his voice hitches, “in fact, Jeno will be home soonish so it’s better if we don’t-”

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

Mark tenses behind you. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If we move to your room, Jeno won’t walk in on us.”

“It’s not about that,” Mark assures you. “Look, I want to take my time with you. This is our first date. I want things to feel right. I want to do this right. Can you understand that?”

You think maybe you’re too horny to want to understand it. 

You want to tear Mark’s clothes off. You want to push him down and ride him until he’s gasping your name and filling you with his cum. You want to feel him still dripping out of you when you go into work tomorrow morning- 

No one has ever made you wait. You’re much too impatient for playing around- and your past lovers have been the same way. 

Even so, you respect the boundary Mark has just expressed. “No fucking tonight,” you agree, “I get that. It’s for the better.”

However, it’s not for the better of your throbbing pussy. 

Seven

God, Mark can’t take his eyes off of you. It’s been two hours since you arrived on shift, and Mark has been distracted for all of it.

You look adorable today. Your black outfit hugs your body just right, and Mark’s mind is consistently wandering to last night, when his hands had traced your hips before lacing your fingers-

When you speak, he finds his focus shifting to your lips- those pretty lips he’d kissed. The lips that had left him wanting more- the lips he’d thought about for hours after you’d gone home. He’d dreamt of kissing you, but it had fallen quite short to the real thing.

You’d sounded hurt when Mark had said you shouldn’t fuck last night, and part of Mark regrets drawing the line in the sand. But on the other hand, Mark had meant it when he said it wasn’t the right time. 

He doesn’t want to bed you after watching a few episodes of anime. You deserve so much more than that. 

Besides, if he had fucked you last night, Mark might have needed to take a sick day just to calm down. Even now, knowing he’s tasted your lips has his skin heating every time he looks at you. 

God, you’ve got him practically bewitched.

As the lunch rush comes to an end, Mark finds time to go outside and vape. He watches the cars pass while he puffs on his device, closing his eyes and imagining your lips.

As his little break is coming to an end, the door hinges squeak behind him, and Mark turns to find you standing there. 

“Oh, hi,” you grin. 

“Hey.” He looks you up and down. “You leaving?”

“Doyoung cut me again, it’s been slow this week,” you nod. 

Mark swallows thickly. He can’t help the way his gaze dips to your lips again.

You step forward, smiling. “You wanna kiss me again, don’t cha, Mark?”

He doesn’t even bother responding. He slips his vape into his pocket, grabbing your hips to tug you closer. As he brings his mouth down to yours, he pauses for a second, meeting your gaze. If you want to pull away, he gives you ample time, but instead, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, closing the distance between your lips.

You take more control today than last night. You lick at his lower lip, not doing too much tongue, but providing just enough that it has Mark’s skin tingling with need. His fingers dig against your hips, pulling you tighter. 

The kiss deepens, and Mark’s entire heart lurches in his chest when you let out a pleased mewling sound.

Fuck, he loves your sounds already- you sound so fucking pretty-

“Jesus.” Head Chef John’s voice makes Mark practically jump, and he tears his lips away from your own, eyes immediately finding his boss, who’s standing by the exit door. “Damn, newbie, you work fast, don’t you?”

Mark’s skin feels like it’s on fire, and he’s quick to let go of your hips, stepping away and running an awkward hand through his hair, “Chef-”

“Don’t tease him, Johnny,” you sigh. “You nearly gave Mark a heart attack sneaking up on us like that.”

“I’m shocked neither of you heard the door.”

“We were busy!” you insist, raising your voice in jest at the head chef.

Mark is shocked at the way you talk so easily with his boss. But he supposes you’ve been at the restaurant for over a year- maybe you’re closer with the tall head chef than Mark realized.

“Look, I’ll say what I said when Hyuck was trying to get with you, sunshine,” Johnny grins, reaching into his pocket to pull out a jacked-up vape pen. “As long as you use protection we’re good, I can’t have my line chefs becoming fathers and taking time off.”

“And I’ll say what I said last time you told me to wrap it: never gonna happen.” 

“IUD’s aren’t a hundred percent viable,” Johnny points out, making Mark nearly choke on air.

“Mine has been so far, so stick it old man.” You turn to Mark, “Don’t mind him, he’s protective.”

“I was protective with Hyuck, because he’s a douchebag, but Mark seems okay,” Johnny laughs. 

“Thanks?” Mark can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“Listen, I’ll text you okay?” You grab the front of Mark’s apron, pulling him in so you can press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Have a good rest of your shift.”

Mark watches you dart off. He’s tongue-tied, skin still flaring, heart racing in his chest.

“She’s a good one,” Johnny muses. “Best expo girl we have. Don’t fuck it up, Mark, I’ll fire you before we get rid of her.”

“Trust me,” Mark coughs, “I wasn’t planning on fucking things up any time soon.”

Eight

In the year you’ve had your solo apartment, you’ve not had any guys over. Your MO is to go to the man’s place so you can dip out whenever you get anxious or tired. Inviting a man over to your safe space woman sanctuary is new. The nervousness is manifesting physically; you’re fussing over the overswept floor and the frill on your couch blanket when Mark texts you that he’s arrived. 

With one final breath, you head down to the lobby to let Mark in.

He’s in blue jeans and a black hoodie that sets off the blonde tone of his hair. You’ve been meaning to ask him about who does his bleach out, but you know men can be touchy about their physical appearance and certain body modifications, so you’ve been holding yourself back.

He looks good. That’s all that really matters. 

“Hey,” Mark grins as you open the door, pulling you into a hug. 

“Hey, yourself,” you smile back, pulling away from the embrace to lead Mark to the elevator. You can hear the line chef following you, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about your building. 

“It’s a nice place,” Mark notes, as if he can read your mind. “New build?”

“I think it’s been here like three or four years? I moved in last winter.”

“Right,” he nods, coming to a stop next to you as you hit the button to call the elevator. 

You can feel him staring at you, and it’s making you even more nervous. “What?” you ask, letting out a short laugh.

“Nothing, you just uh… you look cute.” 

“I’m literally in PJ’s.” Your gaze dips to your simple fuzzy purple shorts, and the tank top you’re wearing.

“But they’re nice. I’ve only ever seen you in work outfits, and when you came over last time you were in jeans. You look cute dressed down like this.”

You’d been worried about being so casual with Mark- dressing for comfort instead of the need to impress, but it seems you’ve succeeded in both comfortability and making a good impression. 

“Thank you,” you smile, your insides practically glowing from the compliment. No other man has seen you this way and called you cute- it’s one of the reasons you usually dip out from a man after sex. There’s no comfort or getting comfortable- your other relationships have always been rigid, a push pull and need to be perfect at all times in order to be deserving of attention.

You make it up to your floor, and another wave of anxiety washes over you as you let Mark into your small apartment. “It’s not much,” you sigh, “but it’s home.”

Mark slips off his sneakers by your door, looking around. “No, I like it,” he assures you. “No roommates kicking around- I bet living alone is pretty relaxing.”

“It can be, but it’s also lonely at times,” you admit.

“Well, if you get lonely here, you can always call me and I can come entertain you.”

Mark’s words give an air of longevity. He sounds certain about this, as if it’s a given that he’s part of your life now, as if he’s not going anywhere. 

You’re not sure what to make of Mark. You’ve never really had steady consistency from a man- but he seems so sincere, it makes you want to be hopeful, and hope can be a dangerous thing for a girl like you.

“So uh… can I get you something to drink?” you ask. “We’re just watching anime right?”

“I’m good. If I get thirsty, I’ll let you know,” Mark assures you, taking a seat on the couch in your living room. “Should we uh… should I move some of these pillows so we can cuddle again?”

You grin, pouring yourself a cup of water. “If you want to cuddle, we can cuddle.”

“I want to cuddle,” Mark states, immediately grabbing at the cushions and rearranging your space to allow for you both to lie down. 

He’s adorable. Laying down in front of him already feels kind of natural. The way he grabs your hip and tugs you close to his chest has your heart singing, and his breath against the back of your neck is as familiar as anything.

Not much needs to be said as you start your anime. You’re simply enjoying the comfortability of companionship- companionship lacking any pressures or timeframes. You’re two souls sharing your moments together.

It’s a different feeling for your mind to go blank while you’re with Mark. You’re shocked by how safe you feel in his embrace. 

You talk here and there, the two of you discussing moments in the anime, but conversation doesn’t get much deeper than that. You actually kind of enjoy not having to use your brain, and you’re definitely enjoying the warmth of the man behind you.

“I’m uh, gonna take my hoodie off,” Mark tells you, shifting slightly. 

“Okay.” You give him space, turning to look over your shoulder as he lifts the fabric off his body, revealing the white tshirt below. “Wait, can you give me a deeper tattoo tour now?”

“Uh…”

“You said you’d give me a proper tour on the second date,” you tease, hooking your finger in the neck of his shirt and gently pulling, giving yourself a tiny peak of marked skin along his collarbones.

“I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” Mark laughs sheepishly. “Okay,” he takes a deep breath, sitting up again and grabbing the hem of his shirt.

As Mark reveals his chest to you, you’re a little taken aback by what you see.

Generally, you’re pretty good at guessing a man’s build under his clothing, but Mark is much more toned than you thought he would be. It’s clear he works out, and the muscles you see are amplified by tasteful placement of tattoos littering his torso.

“Where do I even start?” Mark asks, looking down at himself.

“Wherever you want to.” You turn to face him, anime forgotten in the background.

He brushes his own fingers across one of the ferns decorating his collarbones. “These are my mom’s favourite plant.”

“Her favourite plant?” you grin.

“Yeah, I know, most moms have a favourite flower, but my mom kind of really likes ferns.”

“Sounds like you’re close with her,” you note.

“I’m a complete mama’s boy,” Mark admits with a laugh, which is when your gaze lands on a heart with the word ‘Mom’ tattooed on his ribs.

“I see that.” You reach out and gently brush the mark.

The line chef shivers under your touch, the muscles in his abdomen jumping deliciously. You wonder how ticklish he is. 

“Then this one,” Mark touches the moth blooming out from his sternum, “was just really cool and the artist needed someone to practice on, so I said, let’s do it, fuck me up.”

You grin at his choice of words. Mark can be kind of reserved at work, it’s interesting to hear his dirty mouth now that you’re alone. 

You kind of love listening to him as he continues with the tour, tracing the lined patch work. Each mark is another story or detail about the line chef you’re starting to fall for, and you commit his words to memory. 

He’s done the tour of his tattoos much too fast for your liking. You trace the last of the marks, a dagger on his bicep. 

Laying on your back with Mark on his side next to you, things feel very intimate, especially now that his focus has shifted away from his tattoos and is solidly fixed on you.

His hand finds your abdomen, and he gently lines the curve of your hip with his fingers.

Neither of you say anything, caught in the peaceful quiet and moments of mutual discovery. 

His fingers brush by your rib cage, and you’re struck by the need for more. Gently placing your hand over his, you prompt him up higher, until his palm is placed over your breast. You sneak a glance at Mark, noticing the way he swallows thickly.

“Are you a boobs man, Mark?”

“I mean… who isn’t?”

You grin at his answer. “Should I take my shirt off? It’s only fair, right? Yours is off.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he assures you.

“I want to take my shirt off.”

“Then take your shirt off,” he says quietly.

You sit up, quickly discarding the fabric before laying back down again. Now you’re just in a bra and PJ shorts. Mark sucks in a breath, his hand finding your bare hip. Once again, you have to guide his touch up to your breast. This time, when he squeezes you, his thumb rubs over the swell of plump flesh.

You can feel your nipple hardening with interest, pressing against the cup of your bra. “We should take this off next,” you suggest, grabbing at your strap.

“Yeah?” Mark’s eyes widen as he looks at you, his lips parting as he breathes heavier.

“I mean, unless you want me to keep it on?”

“Like I said,” the line chef brushes his thumb over your skin again, “do whatever makes you most comfortable.” 

You sit up again, reaching behind your back to undo the clasp. For a moment, you pause. This is a line you won't be able to uncross. You’re about to show your coworker your boobs. Your sweet, honest, adorable, line chef coworker, who gazes at you with stars in his eyes- your fuck boy look alike secret softie-

You undo your bra, throwing it off the couch before laying flat again. This time, you don’t have to prompt Mark’s hand, he gently traces his fingers up your ribs until he’s cupping your breast. He watches you tentatively, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Mark says, firmly this time.

“Come here,” you reach up to cup the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours. He kisses you like he’s afraid you might break, but when you whimper, he responds with a groan, deepening the passion as his tongue glides against your own.

His hand kneads your breast, making you moan again, pushing up toward his palm. You can feel the desire growing between your legs as he kisses you, and you reach out to trace his chest. Your touch begins to lower, fingers grazing over his abdomen-

Mark breaks the kiss, nuzzling against your jaw to prompt your face to the side so he can access your throat. He peppers your skin in soft kisses, slowly descending until he reaches your collar bones-

You realize what he’s about to do and tangle your fingers through his soft blonde hair, pushing your chest up in silent affirmation. “Mark-” you whimper, rewarded when his wet lips wrap around your nipple.

Fuck, he feels so good-

Has anyone ever felt this good?

Maybe it’s the waiting- the going slow, or maybe it’s just the fact that Mark makes you feel safe, but regardless, each touch, each brush of his lips and tongue, has you mewling. You’re pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, your pussy practically throbbing with each flick of his wet muscle against your pebbled nipple.

“Mark?” you whisper, tightening your grip in his hair. “Are you…” you swallow thickly. “Are you going to fuck me?”

The line chef pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with dark chocolate eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do-”

“What if I want this?”

“I usually don’t sleep with girls on the second date-”

“Make an exception?” you plead. 

You haven’t been fucked in a few weeks, and you’re feeling desperate. You want to connect with Mark on that physical level, and sex is always the way you do that with men. You want him to feel good, to give him a reason to stick around like he says he will.

“But wait-” you feel your skin heat, “I have something I should tell you first.”

Mark cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“I uh… I’m going to be super real with you right now.” You take a deep breath. “Look, I read a lot of smut? That’s like- I read a lot of erotica, written porn, I guess- and, in smut, and porn especially, girls always just cum so easily- and I wish I was that type of person, but I’m not. No guy has ever… you know, gotten me there. What I’m trying to say is, I can have fun even without cumming. So if I can’t get there with you, it’s not you, it’s literally me-”

“Hey,” Mark reaches up to cup your cheek, cutting off your rambling. “Thanks for telling me, but there’s no pressure. Whatever happens, happens. For some girls, you have to get more comfortable. My first girlfriend was like that too, and there’s never any judgement from me. I’m willing to wait for you to feel safe enough that your body relaxes.”

“You are?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you. “I mean, I can’t promise that I’ll be as good as the guys in your books or in porn. Dirty talk is something I have to get used to using too, but, if we give it time, I’m sure we’ll figure each other out.”

You search his eyes, processing what he’s just said. Then you give him a small nod. “That sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. “But, if we’re going to do this, I’d like for us to go to your bedroom, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” You sit up, getting off the couch quickly while Mark follows. As you get to the door of your bedroom, you look over your shoulder, snaking your fingers into your shorts and pulling them down.

“Fuck-” Mark groans, eyes taking in your body.

You can see a half chub pressing against the denim of his blue jeans, and your pussy throbs again. “Come on, puppy boy,” you tease. 

He’s quick to catch you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his chest to your back. His lips find your neck and you giggle, moving toward your bed while dragging the line chef with you.

“You’re so pretty,” Mark groans, tracing your curves with one hand while the other reaches to grab your breast.

Turning in his arms, you press your lips to his, enjoying the way each kiss gets deeper. He’s relaxing against you, his tongue exploring you more and more. 

When you make it to the bed, he gently prompts you to sit down. You look up at Mark, watching him take in your form. “How did I get this lucky?” he asks.

“You asked me out,” you remind him. “So you did this all yourself, Mark.”

“Did I?” he grins, sinking to the floor.

You’re surprised by the new position, surprised by the way he gently parts your knees, his gaze finding your hot core. 

“Can I take these off?” he questions, gently tugging at your panties.

“Yeah-” you whisper.

Most guys don’t eat you out as an appetizer. In fact, you have to ask most men to go down on you- but here’s Mark, doing it all of his own accord. And he looks so needy- in the best possible way.

Mark slips your panties down your legs, and then his lips find your calf. He begins kissing up your skin, spreading your thighs to accommodate him. 

“You don’t have to-” Your words are lost when he presses a kiss to your clit.

“Don’t have to what?” Mark asks, looking up at you.

“Don’t have to eat me out-”

“I want to eat you out,” he confirms. “I’ll eat you out for as long as you want me to- but, when you need more, just say something, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” Mark hums, immediately pressing his mouth against your core again. He licks a wet stripe of your pussy, and it makes your legs twitch on his shoulders.

You relax against the mattress, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of Mark pleasuring you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him where you need him. He focuses on your clit, circling it and toying with it.

It feels amazing- it does, but there’s some sort of mental block in your brain. You wish you could just cum from this, but the more you think about that, the more you distract yourself from Mark. God, you almost feel bad making him eat you out like this- he’s not getting anything-

The overthinking is something you’re used to, and try as you might to talk yourself down from the ledge of sexual issues, you can’t relax. You can’t focus on Mark, and it frustrates you to no end.

Finally, after what feels like hours of him eating you out - although it must only be a few minutes - you gently tug his hair. “Want your cock now,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” Mark wipes his hand across his mouth, looking up at you with pupils blown from lust.

“Please,” you nod. 

“Should I uh- should I grab a condom?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “We’re both clean right?”

“Yeah-”

“I have an IUD, remember? I want you to cum inside of me.”

Mark draws in a shaky breath. You watch him swallow thickly, then he stands up, undoing his blue jeans. When he pushes down his pants, he moves his underwear too, and just like that, your favourite line chef is standing naked in front of you.

He’s got a pretty cock. It’s girthy, cut, and must be around seven or so inches. The tip is curved slightly to his left, and it’s leaking precum even though you’ve hardly touched him.

Did Mark really get that turned on just from eating you out?

“Come here,” you offer him a small smile, shifting up your bed until your head reaches the pillows. You open your arms for Mark, watching him press a knee onto the mattress and approach you. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you drag him into a kiss.

The kiss is passionate, but there’s a tentative energy to it as Mark’s cock presses between your pussy lips, collecting the juice and saliva that’s congregated there. 

“Are you sure about this?” Mark asks, panting against your mouth. 

You open your eyes to look up at him, nodding.

“I uh… I need to hear you say yes.”

“Yes, Mark, I’m sure about this,” you say, trailing your fingers through his hair. “Please, I want you.”

He searches your eyes, then, with a final nod, he kisses you again. One of his hands slides between your bodies, and you feel him line his cock up with your core. Your legs tighten around his hips, and it’s something like a united effort when his length sinks into your pussy.

You both groan against each other’s lips. The kissing stops, but you remain close enough that your noses are touching. His breath is hot against your skin, and he begins to fuck you slowly, his cock filling you perfectly.

“You feel so good,” Mark groans. 

All you can do is moan in response, drawing his lips back to yours while he fucks you.

You get lost in the feeling of him, and the kissing does aid in calming down your tumultuous thoughts. You can focus on the pleasure that thrums through you with each thrust, the way his cock glides against your inner walls and stretches you out.

Mark grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers and pressing you against the bed, his hips working faster. His tongue is eager against your own, and he eats up your soft whimpers. His groans and grunts of effort make your soul sing, your heart beating quickly in your breast.

“Shit,” Mark pulls away from the kiss, looking down at you. “It’s been a minute since I’ve- since I’ve slept with anyone,” he admits. “I’m uh… pretty close.”

“Want you to cum,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Please- want you to fill me up-”

Mark groans, pressing his lips against your own. You kiss him desperately, tightening your legs around his hips. He squeezes your hand, his groans muffled by your mouth.

His hips work faster and faster- then, all at once, he kind of just stops. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and his grip on your hand is tight as he coats your insides with his cum.

You hold him through his high, your free hand petting his hair while he brings his lips to your neck, panting desperately and kissing your skin. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as he finishes. Mark pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. You can tell there’s something he wants to say, but it’s clear that he’s not able to find the right words. “I, uh…” he licks his lips. “Should I grab you a tissue or something?”

“Yes, please,” you laugh, letting go of him so he can get off the bed. You watch him look around your room, finding your tissues on the nightstand. 

His legs are as covered in patchwork tattoos as the rest of him, and you’re pleased that the tour will continue another day. He hands you the tissue. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?”

“You can go for it, I just need a second,” you tell him.

Mark nods, pressing one last kiss to your lips before he leaves your bedroom.

You lay there in bed, holding the tissue between your legs to capture any of the cum beginning to leak out of you. 

You’re glad Mark got to cum. You’re not surprised you hadn’t. You just hope maybe one day you will get there, and for some reason, you have a hunch Mark will be the one to achieve an orgasm for you. Or at least, you hope he will. 

Nine

“So did you do it?” 

“Hmm?” Mark looks up from the chicken he’s cutting.

“You had your second date with Sunshine last night, right?” Hyuck presses. “So…. did you do it? Did you make her cum, or what?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?” Mark sighs, looking at the other side of the kitchen where John is working. “We shouldn’t be talking about this here.”

“Nah, this is the perfect place to talk about it,” Hyuck leans against the work station, his back to the head chef. “So I’m guessing you didn’t make her cum.”

“Is that all you were thinking about every time you fucked her?” Mark asks.

“Duh.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s the kind of mentality that would make a girl overthink the situation?” Mark shakes his head. “I bet you would watch her super intently and then just ask her to cum.”

“That’s a move, Mark, it’s called having rizz.”

“But it never worked, so was it really rizz, or were you just fucking yourself over?”

Hyuck narrows his eyes. “So now you’re the expert on making girls cum?”

Over Hyuck’s shoulder, John stops what he’s doing and turns to stare at the line chefs. Mark can feel his skin heating, and he opens his mouth to rectify the situation, but Hyuck’s already speaking again. 

“I bet you a hundred bucks you won’t be able to make her cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m not betting money on this shit,” Mark hisses. 

“Sounds like something a pussy would say.”

“A pussy with a knife in his hand,” the line chef notes, his grip tightening on the handle. “Look, when I do make her cum, you have to stop bashing her like it’s her fault that you wouldn’t take the time to make her comfortable.” 

“And when you don’t make her cum?”

“It’s not going to happen.” Mark’s not sure where his confidence is coming from, but something in his heart tells him to be firm about this. He’s going to get you there. It might take a few weeks, hell, it might take over a month- but he’s going to get you to the point where you relax enough to cum for him, or so help him God-

Ten

Mark had cum inside of you three times since arriving at seven, and at two am he had finally broached the idea of heading home. “I should probably go,” the line chef had sighed, holding you closer to his chest.

“I mean… you could always just stay over?” you’d suggested.

“Yeah?”

“It’s our third date, why not?” you’d shrugged, cuddling tighter against him. 

You hadn’t planned this, it had just sort of happened, and that’s how Mark had ended up sleeping at your place for the first time. 

He’d woken up half way through the night, voice raspy, hands grabby, moaning about how lucky he was to be here with you. Falling asleep again after he’d railed you had been as easy as breathing, and now, in the morning hours, you’re in the shower to wash off all the cum he’d left on and inside of you. 

Neither of you have to be at work till the afternoon, and you kind of like the idea of lazing around with Mark, who’s still passed out in your bed. 

You take your time with your skin care and hair, and when you finally enter your room, you’re intrigued to find the line chef still asleep. He’s quite handsome like this, all bundled up in your white duvet, blonde hair shining around him like a halo.

You try to be careful as you crawl onto the mattress next to him, but Mark immediately rolls over to pull you tight to his chest. He lets out a soft groan, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

God, why are things so domestic with this boy already?

His hands trail up and down your back, fingers stroking your skin. You’d put on his shirt, but other than that, you’re naked, and it doesn’t take long for Mark to realize that fact. His touch moves down to your hip, sliding under the shirt. His thumb draws circles against your bare skin, and he lets out another moan. 

“Morning, puppy boy,” you laugh.

“Hungry,” Mark whispers. 

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he leans down, pressing kisses to your throat, his lips brushing by your ear when he repeats himself; “Hungry.”

“I can make you breakfast,” you assure him.

“Don’t want food,” Mark says. “Want you.”

In one quick motion he pushes you onto your back, getting on top of you. His breath is hot against your neck, and he tugs on your shirt, pulling it up to reveal your breasts. His mouth wraps around your nipple, and he sucks on it gently, releasing sounds of pleasure. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh of relief. “Feels good,” you tell him.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his digits teasing your slit. “Always so wet for me,” he groans, releasing your nipple with a pop. “Can I taste?”

Mark is definitely getting more bold with you, but that’s what happens when you’ve fucked a handful of times, had three dates, and one sleep over. 

“You can do anything you want to me,” you tell him.

The line chef kisses down your abdomen, pushing your legs open as he settles between them. You thread your fingers through his hair as he brings his mouth to your core, licking at your pussy lips. 

Mark is really good at oral. This is the fourth time he’s eaten you out. With each time he presses his mouth to your pussy, part of you gets more and more convinced that you’ll cum this way. When he adds two fingers into your aching core, you’re pretty much sure that it will happen-

It feels so good, and the moans that escape you reflect that. Your hips buck toward his face, prompting Mark to press a palm to your lower abdomen, keeping you pinned.

But every time you think you’re close - every time you’re about to announce it to him - the feeling dissipates. 

You can feel yourself getting more and more irritated with your body, and soon, you give up entirely. “Mark?”

“Hmm?” The vibrations against your clit have your thighs shaking.

“Can I just- can we just fuck? Please? I want you inside of me.”

Mark pulls away from your pussy, his fingers continuing in your hole. “Are you sure? You know I enjoy playing with you like this.”

“I know- but, I just- I’m in my head again. Want your cock in my pussy.”

Mark takes his fingers out of your core, bringing them to his lips to lick clean. Then he crawls up your body, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I’ll fuck you,” he says, “but don’t ever think I don’t enjoy being between your thighs like that, okay? You don’t have to cum, I know from the sounds that you make that you enjoy it, and that’s enough for me until you get there, yeah?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “I’m still in my head.”

“I get that, Sunshine,” he kisses you gently, cupping your cheek as he lines his cock up with your wet hole. “If there’s anything I can do to stop the overthinking-”

“Just fuck me,” you insist, wrapping your legs around his hips.

Mark laughs. “You got it.”

Eleven

“Dude, is that a hickey on your neck?” Hyuck’s annoying voice makes Mark flinch, and his hand immediately flies to slap against the side of his throat.

“What? No.” 

“It totally is,” Hyuck laughs. “Damn, you two must really be going at it a lot.”

“We’re having fun.”

“Fun like two times? Three?”

“Fun like five times in the past twenty four hours.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hyuck’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t know what you were talking about with her not being able to sleep next to you. She passed out just fine with me last night.”

Hyuck lets out a deep breath. “Fucking Hell. Maybe I underestimated you. So… did she cum?” 

Mark sighs. He hates to be talking about this while at work. You’re running food, but you could be back at any second, and Mark doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea about all of this. Hyuck is the instigator of these sexual talks, and Mark doesn’t know how much to keep to himself.

“So that’s a no,” Hyuck deduces. “Big ouch.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t talk about this anymore,” Mark says finally.

“Why? Is your pride hurt?” 

Mark lets out another annoyed breath. “I just think it’s disrespectful. You’re an ex fling of hers, you don’t deserve to know everything about her personal life.”

“I don't want to know about her personal life,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “I want to know about her sex life, there’s a difference.” 

“I’m done talking to you about this,” Mark insists.

“Damn, someone is starting to sound like a protective boyfriend. Jeeze, calm down.”

Mark hates that there’s some truth in what Hyuck is saying. He already feels quite protective of you. He’s got dates planned, things that can make you smile. He pays close attention to you when you speak, looking for your likes and dislikes. 

Mark is falling for you faster than he’d ever care to admit, especially not to Hyuck of all people. 

Twelve

“Who does a staff Christmas party in January?” Jungwoo asks as a bunch of you take the big table after the restaurant has closed.

“We were all too busy at Chirstmas time, remember?” Jaehyun says, looking at his waiter friend. “And then there was New Years, and we closed early.”

“I agree with you Woo, a mid January Christmas party feels weird,” you grin, leaning against your favourite server. 

In all honesty, it feels like your managers Taeil and Doyoung just wanted to give you all some time to relax and celebrate. January can be a slow month in the restaurant business, and you’d heard Jeno mention yesterday that there are four or five bottles of wine that no one has been ordering that have to be used up. 

As you begin to drink the wine, the mid January Christmas party makes more and more sense. The chefs have finished their closing tasks, with John joining you first, followed by Hyuck, and finally Mark.

With Jaehyun across from you, Jungwoo on one side, and John on the other, you’re surrounded. Mark sits at the other end of the table, offering you a small smile. You give him a gentle wave in response, giggling to yourself over the rim of your wine glass.

“Gosh, Sunshine,” Jungwoo slides closer to you. “Are you drunk already?”

“You’ve been refilling my glass,” you point out, pouting a little.

“Because you’re a cute drunk,” he grins. 

“A very cute drunk,” Jaehyun agrees, eyeing you from across the table. 

The thing about dating a coworker and it being new means you can’t talk about it. Until there’s a label with you and Mark, you’re keeping your lips shut. As far as Jungwoo or Jaehyun know, you’re single, and the latter of the two has been hitting on you for months.

It feels odd to have Jaehyun calling you cute while Mark is just a few seats down. Your stomach twists into drunken knots, and you wish you could move to be closer to your new secret Boo-

In the periphery of your vision, you note Mark stand up and begin to head to the bar. It feels like the perfect excuse to get some time alone with him, so you hop off of your chair. 

Mark’s grabbed a glass and is beginning to pour himself a beer from the tap by the time you reach him. “Hi, puppy boy,” you grin.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he laughs, looking you up and down. “Jungwoo’s been feeding you the wine, huh?”

“Just like… a normal amount.” God, you can’t help but smile constantly at the boy who has your heart twisting into love sick knots. 

“Are you tipsy?” Mark cocks his head to the side as he finishes pouring his drink.

“Maybe…”

“Can I get you some water?” he suggests.

You lean forward over the bar top, lowering your voice so only Mark can hear you. “I’m thirsty, but not for water or wine.”

It takes Mark a moment to read the innuendo of your words, but then he laughs. “I should get you some water.”

“What if I don’t drink it?”

“What if I ask you to please drink it?” he counters, already filling a cup for you. 

“Okay, fine. Just for you, though.” 

Mark grins as he hands you the glass.

“Why do you take care of me so much?” you ask, as the two of you head back to the table.

“Because,” Mark pulls your chair out for you, “you’re my favourite expo girl.”

“I better be,” you say, teasingly narrowing your eyes at Mark before he walks back to his own seat down the long table.

You begin to nurse your water. Mark’s right about you needing it. The tipsyness has somehow intensified- probably because Jungwoo had insisted you finish your wine glass. You feel blurry as you sit there and listen to your coworkers chat.

“I just don’t like saying chicken breast,” Jungwoo states.

“But that’s what they are!” Yuta, one of the night line chefs, insists. “They’re breasts!”

“I just tell customers that the alfredo comes with chicken, they don’t need to hear me say breast!” Jungwoo fights back. “Jaehyun agrees with me, right Jae?”

“Yeah, I just say chicken,” the man across from you nods.

“Taeyong also just says chicken,” Jungwoo continues. “So right now it’s three to one.”

“Hyuck,” Yuta calls across the table, gaining the attention of the men at the other end. “Do you call it chicken breast, or just chicken?”

“Neither,” Hyuck says confidently. “Thems some chicken boobies.”

You can’t believe the conversation you’re hearing. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” you decide. 

“What? Why?” Jungwoo whines.

“I can’t be here for a discussion about chicken.”

Jungwoo slams his hand on the table. “See, she said just chicken too!” 

Yuta points his finger at you like you’re on a game show. “Is that your final answer?” 

You lean forward, pretending his hand is a microphone. “Chicken titties.”

“Yeah, we’re cutting you off,” Jungwoo decides. “You need to go home and sleep.”

“Someone should make sure you get back to your place okay,” Jaehyun notes, standing from his chair.

“I’ll take care of her,” comes Mark’s voice from the other end of the table.

Jaehyun turns to stare at the line chef, who also stands up. 

John is next to you, and you watch a knowing expression appear on his features, grinning as he sips his beer. 

“You still have half your drink left,” Jaehyun insists, “And, I’ve known our little miss Sunshine for much longer than you have. I’m sure she’s probably more comfortable with me taking her home.”

A muscle in Mark’s jaw feathers. You watch him reach down and grab his beer, downing the whole thing in three large gulps before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Fuck, the motion reminds you of what he does whenever he eats you out, and you feel almost dizzy thinking about it.

“Who’s it gonna be, Sunshine?” Hyuck grins. “Jaehyun, or Marky boy?”

“Let’s go, Mark,” you say, offering Jaehyun a small smile. “We’ll see all you guys tomorrow.”

Jaehyun looks pretty defeated, but you can’t even bring yourself to care as Mark comes around the table to offer you his arm. At first, you think you don’t his help, but when you stumble after one step, you latch onto his bicep.

“I was hoping you’d go home with me tonight,” you whisper as the two of you exit to the parking lot, where Mark’s truck is waiting. He helps you climb inside, smiling and shaking his head.

“Sunshine, if you ever want me to go home with you, you don’t have to get drunk, just ask.”

Thirteen

“I’m really not that drunk,” you insist, making your way over to the liquor cabinet again.

Mark sighs. You’re a grown adult, he can’t keep directing you away from the booze. “Okay, I believe you. What do you want? Let me make it for you.”

“I want…” you think about it for a moment. “An espresso martini.”

“It’s late, won’t the espresso make it hard for you to sleep?” You’re definitely drunk and you both know it.

“I don’t care. Want espresso martini.”

“Okay, Sunshine, you got it.” Mark moves through your kitchen, finding the espresso machine there. He slips a pod into the device, setting up a cup. 

“Can you add honey?” you ask, already moving to the cabinet to grab a bottle. Mark takes it from you, squeezing some of the honey into the bottom of the cup as hot coffee begins to pour over it. “I also want Baileys.”

Mark laughs a little, shaking his head as you stumble to grab the large Irish Cream bottle from your cupboard.

“And also ice,” you declare. “Frothed.”

“This is a whole thing, huh?” Mark watches you fill the frother with Baileys. 

“I like what I like,” you insist. “We’re gonna triple froth this.”

“You’re the boss.” Mark reaches into his pocket, pulling out his vape. You’ve been letting him smoke in here, and he appreciates the reprieve as the two of you make this very complicated espresso martini. 

By the time you’re done with it, Mark’s not even sure you could call it an espresso martini. With the amount of frothed foam on top, this drink is something else entirely. 

He watches you lift the cup to your lips, immediately getting foam on your face. You simply giggle and wipe it off, licking your finger clean. Then you dip your digit into the froth, scooping it up and popping it in your mouth.

Mark swallows thickly while watching you do this.

“Puppy,” you groan, “this is so good.” You offer him your finger. “Try it.”

Mark can’t say no to you, so he allows you to dip your finger into his mouth. He licks you clean, watching the way your breath catches. You bite on your bottom lip, swaying a little on your feet.

“Your turn,” you say quietly, holding out the cup.

“My turn?”

“I wanna suck on your fingers.”

Mark knows you're drunk. He knows this probably isn’t the best idea for either of you, but he simply can’t say no to you. Not now, not ever. 

He dips his pointer into the foam, then presents it to you. 

You grab his wrist, keeping him still while you move forward to suck on his finger, releasing a small groan. Mark can already feel the blood rushing to his cock, but he ignores it as he goes for another scoop of froth. 

“Tastes better on you,” you tell him, licking his digit clean again. “More. Please.” 

The way you look at him each time you suck his finger tells Mark that you’re as horny as he is. When he scoops with two digits, you practically mewl as you lick.

“I wanna suck on something bigger,” you state.

“Sunshine,” Mark sighs, “I really don’t want to take advantage-” 

“You’re not. Mark, you’ve eaten me out so many times, please let me return the favour?” You’re already sinking to your knees on the kitchen floor, and the sight of you makes Mark’s cock throb in his jeans. “Please, I just wanna suck you off.”

“You know I can never say no to you.”

As the words leave him your hands find his belt. In moments, you’re pushing his pants down, your grip wrapping around the base of his cock. He watches you lick your lips, your gaze meeting his as you lean forward to take him into your mouth.

Mark immediately lets out a groan. “You feel so good, sunshine.”

You whimper around his length, and the vibration has Mark’s fingers twitching. He reaches for your head, cupping your face while you suck him off. His other hand places your drink on the kitchen counter before falling to his side. The line chef’s head falls back, his eyes closing as he eats up the feeling of you.

“That’s it,” he sighs, loving the way you twirl your tongue around his shaft.

You take as much of him past your lips as possible, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, causing Mark’s eyes to fly open. He looks down at you with concern, but you keep sucking him.

“You don’t have to deep throat me,” Mark assures you, pushing some hair away from your face.

You let out a whine, sinking onto him again, only for your throat to constrict tight around his tip. 

Mark groans. “Fuck, Sunshine, I’m serious.”

The line chef could never do what you’re doing right now. Not because he’s not into cock, but because he has the worst gag reflex ever. He knows what it’s like to choke, and he doesn’t want you sputtering on his cock in the name of pleasuring him. 

When you try to deep throat him a third time, Mark simply pulls you off of him. He’s struck by the view of a string of saliva keeping you connected to his cock, and the way you look up at him in a confused daze has his heart thundering in his chest.

“Enough of that,” Mark says softly. “Let me take care of you.”

He reaches down, gently taking your hands so he can help you to your feet. 

“Bedroom?” he suggests.

You nod, swallowing thickly and wiping at your mouth, then you dart off. You’re awfully agile for a drunk girl, and Mark smiles to himself before following you. By the time he’s made it to the bedroom, you’ve already stripped.

You’re sitting on the bed, grinning at him with a hint of mischief in your eye.

“Take advantage of me, Mark,” you say as he pulls off his shirt.

“Jesus,” Mark whispers. “I hate to say it, but that line is not enticing at all.”

He’s still kind of questioning if this is a good idea, but at the same time, you’ve already fucked on multiple occasions. He knows you want him sober, and especially - it appears - while drunk. 

“Come on, please?” You pout out your lower lip.

Mark slips out of his jeans, joining you on the bed. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss while your legs encircle his hips.

As his cock slips past your core, Mark is shocked at how wet you already are. Booze has really done a number on you, but neither of you are complaining.

“You sure you want this?” he asks.

“Don’t make me beg,” you laugh, “Cuz I will.”

“No, it’s okay,” Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “Just checking.”

Before he can reach for his cock, you beat him to it, grabbing the base and lining his tip up with your entrance. “Fuck me, Mark, I’m begging for it.”

He presses his lips hard against your own as he pushes into your wet hole, both of you groaning loudly at the feeling. 

“Shit,” you whimper, breaking the kiss to look up at him, “I’m so sensitive today-”

“Alcohol does that sometimes,” Mark notes, bringing up a hand to cup your breast. When his fingers pinch your nipple, you let out a high pitched squeal, pushing your chest up toward his palm. 

“Fuck, Mark-” Your pussy clenches tight around him, and the feeling makes Mark dizzy. 

“You sound so good, Sunshine, and you’re gripping me so fucking hard-” Mark begins to fuck into you. Your nails claw at his arms, your head thrown back, eyes closed.

Mark reaches down to rub your clit. You shudder below him, legs tightening around his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you moan loudly. “Just like that-”

He applies more pressure to your sensitive bud, making your hips buck toward him, your core clenching him in a death grip. 

“If you keep squeezing me like this, I’m not going to last long-” he warns you, tension building in the base of his cock.

“I want you to cum,” you insist, opening your eyes to look at him.

“Don’t you want to try and get there too?” he asks. 

“I don’t-” you swallow thickly, “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Let me fuck you a little longer, yeah?” Mark prompts. “I can wait a bit. Actually, we should switch positions.”

“To what?”

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly. As soon as Mark pulls away, you’re flipping over, pushing your ass into the air for him.

“Fuck, what a view,” he breathes, hands smoothing across your bum. 

You whimper, and the sound encourages Mark to slip himself into you again. The sigh of relief that leaves you has Mark’s skin tingling, his grip finding your hips. 

“It’s so deep,” you groan, tangling your fingers in the sheets.

You’re right about that- your wet pussy is taking every inch Mark has, and each smack of his hips against your ass has you getting even wetter. He’s pretty sure you’re dripping down your thighs at this point, and his fingers dig into your skin even harder.

The sounds you’re making are like music to his ears. Your grip on his cock is insane. Mark’s pretty sure tonight is going to be the night that you cum- but as he continues fucking you, it becomes more and more clear that only one of you is going to get there- and fast. 

“Fuck,” Mark grunts, his heart racing in his chest as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. 

“Cum in me,” you insist, reaching behind yourself.

Mark grabs your hand, lacing your fingers and holding you against the small of your back.

“You really want me to cum?” he asks, breathless.

“Please,” you nod, squeezing his hand. “Wanna be full.”

Again, Mark can’t say no to you.

“Okay, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, fucking you even harder. “Shit-” 

His orgasm hits straight on, tingling through his entire body like an electric jolt. He pushes his cock into you as deep as it can go, feeling it throb as he coats your walls in cum. Mark throws his head back, eyes closed, overcome by the pleasure that courses through him.

He’s not the type that can fuck someone through his high. When he cums, he has to stop, has to experience the feeling in full. His mind goes completely blank…

But his first thought when the words come back is that he should tell you he loves you.

Fuck. This is becoming a problem. 

Every time he cums deep inside of you, his feelings grow. He’s overwhelmed with this sense that you’re meant to be, that he should just lock you down and let you know how much you mean to him.

But as always, that logical side rears its head, reminding Mark that it’s only been a few weeks of seeing each other. He needs to take things slow- for your sake. He doesn’t want to scare you away. Being a safe space for you includes watching his tongue, it means not putting pressure on you like this- 

If there’s one thing that will pressure you, it’s the admittance that he’s kind of in love with you.

Instead of saying what’s on the tip of his tongue, Mark pulls out of you. He gets you a tissue for the cum that begins to drip out of your pussy, and a cup of water to make sure you’re hydrated. Once you’ve both cleaned up in the bathroom, he cuddles you close to his chest, stroking your back and listening to you breathe.

To Mark’s complete shock, you fall asleep on him within minutes. 

It’s a sign that you’re truly feeling safe with him, and Mark thinks he must be going in the right direction. He’s careful not to wake you up, he simply enjoys the feeling of holding you close while you rest.

Fourteen

You wake up slowly, cuddling closer to the warmth next to you. It takes you a moment to realize that the heat is coming from Mark, and you open your eyes to stare at him.

“Morning,” Mark grins, putting down his phone to watch you. “Sleep well?”

“Shockingly well,” you grin, snuggling closer. “You?”

“I like sleeping next to you,” Mark muses, wrapping his arms around you. “You know, I was thinking I could make you breakfast or something. Neither of us have work today.”

“Breakfast?” You perk up.

“Yeah, I can cook most breakfast or brunch foods, but uh… don’t ask me to make eggs.”

“Eggs?” You raise your brows, looking at him with a laugh.

“I know, it’s stupid cuz I’m literally a line chef, but I never went to school for it, remember?” Mark grins, stroking your skin. “John tried to teach me during brunch last week but I just- don’t have the patience for eggs.”

“Poor John, hired a chef who can’t cook eggs,” you tease. “Are you sure you don’t want something else for breakfast?”

“Like what?”

“Like… me?” 

Mark laughs. “As much as I’d love to fuck you today, I feel like- maybe it would be nice to not sleep together this morning... You know this isn’t just sex for me, right?”

“Yeah, but… sex is nice, isn’t it?”

Mark strokes your cheek, meeting your eyes. “Sex with you is always nice, but I think I kind of want to be domestic with you today instead, if that’s okay.”

Your heart clenches in your chest at his words. You can’t help but lean forward and kiss him gently. “That’s okay with me.”

“Good,” Mark grins. “Let's cuddle some more, and when you get hungry, I’ll take care of the food.”

As you slowly wake up next to Mark, you’re struck by how comfortable you are. Being with him like this feels natural. There’s no pressure to fuck, no need to suck dick in order to earn affection- Mark simply cares about you, and it’s clear in the way he holds you.

If you’re not careful, you could get used to this.

Fifteen

Since the ‘Christmas’ party, Mark’s been wanting to broach the subject of Jaehyun with you, but in the handful of times he’s slept over with you since then, it’s just never come up.

Today, watching Jaehyun talk with you by the bar, the question is fresh on Mark’s mind, and he only has one person he can justifiably ask about it.

“So… how close are Jae and y/n?”

“Hmm?” Hyuck looks up from the burger he’s stacking. “Oh, those two? Pretty close.”

Mark groans at the lack of detail. “Did they ever date?”

“I think she’s definitely his work crush. Pretty sure he’s asked her out a few times, but I don’t know if she realized it was a date sort of thing.” Hyuck laughs to himself. “I actually walked in on him asking her out around Halloween, but I think she thought it was a group idea. She rejected him though.”

“Looks like he hasn’t taken the hint,” Mark says, mouth forming a firm line.

“Nah, Jae has a pretty big ego. I mean, you’ve seen his face. He’s not used to rejection, it doesn’t compute for him.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, he simply goes back to the alfredo he’s cooking. But it becomes clear that Hyuck doesn’t want to let this go.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you, Marky boy?”

“No.”

“Yes, you totally are,” Hyuck grins. “How long have you and Sunshine been seeing each other now?”

“Like… three weeks? A month almost?”

“Have you talked about being exclusive or anything?”

“Not really.”

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s a yes or a no, Mark. There’s no ‘not really,’ when it comes to ‘the talk.’”

“No, we haven’t talked about it,” Mark admits with a sigh.

“Sounds like something you want though, right?” Hyuck presses.

“I thought I said I wasn’t going to talk to you about this anymore.”

“You’re the one who brought up Jae,” Hyuck points out, raising his hands in mock defense. 

Mark supposes Hyuck is right about that. He’s been considering defining the relationship recently- thinking about how a label could offer you safety, stability, things that are needed to help you relax. 

But now, the label transcends the use for comfortability and cumming, it almost feels needed.

You’re hot. Mark knows that. He sees the way people hit on you every day while you’re working. At first, he’d been okay with it- but now, he thinks maybe he needs something more. Maybe he needs the comfort of knowing that you’re taken, by him. 

He’s not the type to feel insecure, and he’s not even sure that insecurity is the right word for what he’s feeling.

All Mark knows, is that he wants to get to the next level with you, and he’s going to pull up his big boy pants to finally do it.

Sixteen

You’ve been at home for a few hours, having been cut from work early since it was a slow day, and you’re a little surprised when Mark calls you around dinner time.

“Hey you,” you grin, collapsing onto your bed to give Mark your full focus.

“Whatcha doin?” he asks.

“Just sitting here, was thinking of watching a movie. How about you? Just got off work?”

“Yeah, in a minute, just taking a vape break first. I was thinking maybe you’d let me see you when I’m off?”

“Definitely, you know my door is always open for you. But I should warn you, I have literally nothing in my fridge.”

“That’s okay, I’ll make your favourite and bring takeout,” Mark assures you. “See you in like… half an hour?”

That’s how Mark shows up on your home a short while later. You look him up and down, taking in his work outfit. “Didn’t wanna change after shift?” you grin, holding your door open for him.

“I uh, wanted to see you. Need a shower, so I figured I’d put on my fresh clothes after that.”

“Sounds good, you know that my home is your home. Go shower, I’ll put our food in bowls.” You accept the takeout from Mark, intent on turning to head to the kitchen- only for him to pull you back into an embrace.

“Hi,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your head and nuzzling against your hair.

“Hi,” you grin, turning in his arms to press your lips to his. “Go shower.”

“You got it.”

Mark goes into your bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water begin to run. You take your time in the kitchen. Mark has made himself alfredo, and he’s cooked your favourite rice bowl for you. You smile to yourself while plating the food, loving how domestic things have gotten with Mark.

Part of you is tempted to join Mark in the shower, but you’re not sure if you’re there yet, so you wait patiently for him to finish. This isn’t the first time he’s showered at your place, and you trust he’ll see his designated towel hanging on the hook behind your door. 

You kind of enjoy that he’s gotten so comfortable at your home. You’ve been spending so much time with him here and at work that it feels kind of odd when he’s not around. 

Soon, Mark is coming out of the bathroom. He’s in sweatpants and a tank top that shows off his tattoos. You have to actively stop yourself from drooling as you move to sit at the dinner table.

“So… did you need to talk to me about something?”

“Hmm?” Mark sits across from you.

“We didn’t have plans, you called and wanted to come over, I guess I’m just wondering if you had a specific reason.”

“Can’t I just miss you?” he grins.

Despite his words, it’s clear that there’s more to it, however you drop the issue. When Mark is ready to be real with you, he will be. You have time until then.

Mark begins to talk about work, how it had gotten busy after you’d left. You listen, happy to chat with him while you eat. 

After food, the two of you move to the couch, cuddling up while Netflix starts.

You’re two seasons into your anime already, it’s funny how time flies. You can turn your brain off when Mark spoons you, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder every now and again.

One episode in, Mark reaches over you for the remote, pausing your show. 

“I guess there is a reason I wanted to come over,” he admits finally.

“Yeah?” You turn onto your back, looking up at him. 

“I hate to say that I’ve been jealous, but uh… since the Christmas party, I’ve been a little jealous about you and Jaehyun.” Mark won’t meet your eyes, and you give him the space to continue. “I just… people are always hitting on you, and I don’t know, I think… I mean, I’m a serial monogamist according to Hyuck, and I know we haven’t been seeing each other for that long, but I only see you, in all ways, and I just… I don’t want to lock you down if you’re not looking for something serious, but I guess I wanted to know how you feel about exclusivity and that sort of thing.”

“With you? Mark… I’d love to be exclusive.” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t you realize that I have to watch girls flirt with you too? Maybe we’ve both been jealous.  I think… locking each other down would be good for us.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s beaming now.

“You’re special,” you confess. “I’ve never been able to sleep next to a guy I’ve slept with, which feels like such a contradiction- but sleep has always come easy with you. I’ve never felt such a lack of pressure- such acceptance, for all of me, the good and the bad. I like you a lot Mark, and I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”

“It’s not that it wasn’t clear,” Mark assures you, cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I just… I know you have that wild side, which is totally valid, I just wasn’t sure you were a settling down type.”

“I wasn’t so sure I was either, and then I met you.”

Mark kisses you instead of responding, but you can feel the emotion in the press of his lips against yours. He’s elated by what you’ve just said, and you’re close to floating to cloud nine too. 

Even so, there’s something else. You can feel it in the slight tension of his shoulders when your fingers brush over his skin.

“Mark?” you break the kiss, blinking at him. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“It’s just… I know I said there’s no pressure, but I really wanna help you cum. And I’ve been thinking maybe… maybe we could use some of your toys.”

“My toys?”

“Like… some girls cum better with a vibrator, and if you have one, I’d love to use it on you.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Lots of men think their dick is good enough, they feel emasculated to bring sex toys into the mix- but here’s Mark, being as contrarian as ever. 

“Even if it doesn’t help you cum, I still think it would be fun. I’m not trying to pressure you-”

“We can use my vibrator,” you assure him, heart thundering in your rib cage at the mere thought of it. 

No man has ever used a sex toy on you- it’s probably one of the reasons you’ve never cum with a lover before.

“Come on,” you sit up, heading to your bedroom while Mark follows. “I keep my toys in the closet,” you explain, bending down to find the shoe box that stores your vibrator. You pull the device out, showing it to Mark. “Is this going to work?”

“Yeah, it will work.” Mark watches you stand up, and he holds out his hand for you to pass the toy to him. “I’m uh… I’m gonna put this down so I can get you naked.”

“Okay,” you grin.

He sets the vibrator on your bed gently, turning to you. Mark grabs your face first, pulling you in for a kiss. He’s gentler than you thought he would be, but you don’t mind it. You like getting lost in the feeling of Mark, allowing him to guide you toward the bed.

When you reach your mattress, his hands slip down to the hem of your shirt. He carefully removes it, and you lift your arms to help him with the task. Mark doesn’t immediately go for your pants next, he kisses you again instead, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other grabs the small of your back.

His touch is so gentle, smoothing across your skin. It’s making you even more eager, and you find yourself removing his shirt before he begins to work on your sleep shorts. Soon, you’re just in a bra and panties, but even those get taken off. 

When you’re completely bare, Mark gently pushes you down onto your bed, eyes taking in your body.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he muses.

Your skin heats at the praise, and you begin to close your thighs, only for Mark to gently prompt them open. 

“Don’t hide from me, please,” Mark says softly, getting onto his knees at the foot of your bed. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your clit before he pushes his tongue into your wet hole.

You breathe a sigh of relief, threading your fingers through his hair. You adjust your thighs on his shoulders, trailing your toes against his well-defined back. 

He eats you out for a little while, groaning as he goes. It’s clear to you now that Mark enjoys getting his fill of you, and it makes the experience ten times more enjoyable for you. You’ve been getting better at slowing your mind while Mark licks at your clit, better at focusing on him and not all the worrying thoughts that generally buzz around you.

You feel the bed shift, and you open your eyes to see Mark has reached for the vibrator. He turns it on, assessing the way the toy shakes on the lowest setting. “Do you wanna show me where to use this, sunshine?” he asks, holding it out to you.

With a deep breath, you nod, accepting the toy and bringing it to your clit. “I like… a good amount of pressure,” you tell him, showing him exactly where you like the vibrator to be held.

It feels kind of odd to be pleasuring yourself like this in front of Mark, but from the way his pupils are blown, eyes fixed completely on your core, you can tell that he’s enjoying the view. It makes you feel more confident, as you begin to drag the vibrator side to side, teasing yourself. 

“This sort of movement is good too,” you tell him.

“Can I take over now?” he asks.

You nod, allowing him to grab the handle of the toy. 

Now that you’re not the one holding it, you can focus completely on the feeling of your clit being vibrated. It feels amazing, your toes curling at the stimulus.

Mark’s free hand is on your inner thigh, smoothing against your skin, but soon, it joins the vibrator. He teases two fingers along your folds before pushing them into you, crooking them up to find the spongey spot that has you crying out.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Mark tells you, applying more pressure to your clit with the vibe. “Fuck, I could watch you like this all night.”

“Puppy-” you whimper, skin tingling at his words.

“You have no idea how good you look,” he continues. “I swear- I want you to cum, but even if you don’t, I’m not going to be able to forget about this. This view is- fuck, it’s the best view in the world. We’re going to be at work and this is all I’ll be thinking about. I won’t be able to get you out of my head.”

With each admittance, each uttered word of praise, you can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach.

“Can you grind on this a little, sunshine? Grind on my fingers and your toy?”

“Yeah-” you whimper, hips moving as you try to follow with his prompt. 

“That’s it-” Mark groans. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

His fingers work harder inside of you, and the added pressure makes you squeal. You can’t help the way one of your arms comes up to cover your face, muffling your sounds as your body moves on it’s own accord now. You’re grinding against his hand, grinding against the vibrator that sends tremors of pleasure through your entire form.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” Mark tells you. “So lucky that you’re mine- I could watch you like this for hours and not get bored.”

“Mark-” you groan. Usually, when you acknowledge an orgasm building, it dissipates, like some cruel trick of fate, a complete defiance of the laws of physics- but this time, when you whimper “I’m close” the feeling doesn't fade, it only builds.

“Yeah?” Mark sounds shocked. “All it took was a vibe, huh?”

“And… and your praise-”

“You like when I talk dirty to you, sunshine?” Mark asks. “Like it when I tell you how perfect and pretty you are?”

“Yes-”

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Or should I finger fuck this cute little pussy even harder?”

“Oh my God-” you whimper. Mark has truly gotten comfortable with you now- he’s not holding back with his sinful words, and they make your stomach pull into a tight knot. “Please, harder-”

Mark presses the vibrator against your clit, turning up the vibration with his thumb while his fingers continue their brutal pace inside your core.

You find yourself gasping, unable to speak as he works you closer and closer-

“Cumming-” you whisper, your orgasm slamming into you like a train. 

Your breath catches, waves of pleasure surging through you. Your fists grip the sheets, your back arches, your thighs quaking around Mark. Whimpers and moans fill the room, your core pulsating around Mark’s fingers while he works you through your high.

“That’s it,” Mark groans. “That’s my good girl.”

“Puppy-” you breathe, the feeling almost becoming too much for you.

“What do you need, sunshine?”

“Your cock,” you blurt out. 

“Yeah?” Mark’s fingers slow inside your pussy. 

“Please, wanna cum on your cock-”

Mark lets out a breath. “Holy fuck.” He turns the vibrator off, taking his digits from your core. Mark licks them clean before he stands up, pushing down his sweatpants. “Move up the bed for me?” he suggests.

You wiggle up to the pillows, watching Mark get onto the mattress. He allows you to lock your legs around his hips, pulling him close while he crashes his lips to yours.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him deeply. He ruts his hips, allowing you to feel his cock dragging against your core.

Patience is a virtue, but you don’t have any left. You reach between your bodies, grabbing his hard length to line it up with your pussy. 

Mark slides into you, and you let out an immediate sigh of relief. His fingers had been nice, but his cock is even better. It stretches you open, you can feel him deeper than ever. You gasp against his mouth, dragging him closer as he begins to thrust into you. 

“You feel so good, sunshine,” Mark groans, breaking the kiss so he can press his lips to your throat. 

“Puppy-” you whimper, arching your neck so he has better access to find your sweet spot.

Mark captures your hands, lacing your fingers and pressing you into the bed while he fucks you. 

You can feel him everywhere. You’re completely bewitched by Mark Lee. Your core is practically dripping, each thrust made easy by the wet that exudes out of you. 

Then Mark is reaching for your vibrator. He sits up slightly, looking down at you. “Missionary? Or maybe doggy would be better?”

“I wanna see you when I cum again,” you tell him, accepting the vibrator he holds out to you. “Want you to see me cum with your cock in my pussy.”

Mark lets out a low groan, pressing his lips to yours as you turn on the toy, adjusting it onto your clit.

“If you can’t cum, that’s okay-”

“I think I’ll cum,” you assure him. “Just fuck me hard, and I’ll get there.”

“I can do that,” Mark grins, immediately picking up his pace and adding more power to his thrusts.

“And… tell me I’m pretty again?”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Mark groans. “I’m so fucking lucky- how did I ever get this lucky?”

“Puppy-”

“You have no idea how into you I am- I love your sounds, love your voice- love the face you make when you feel good- love your smile-”

Each admittance has your heart buzzing in your chest. It’s crazy how easy it is for him to praise you- it almost feels like all these things were built up inside, like he’s a dam that’s just been released, and God, you love the flood.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, entire body surging with energy. 

“You’re squeezing me so well, baby,” Mark groans, and the sound has your pussy throbbing. “Want you to cum with me so bad, do you think you can cum with me?”

“Yeah, just- kiss me?” you suggest.

Mark presses his lips to yours immediately, cupping your face with one hand. His tongue glides against your own. You eat up each other's sounds, getting completely lost in each other.

In no time at all, another orgasm is building in the pit of your stomach. 

“I’m gonna-” you whimper against his lips.

Mark fucks you even harder in response, and the motion is dizzying. 

“Please, sunshine, cum with me- fuck, I can’t hold it, cum with me-”

His words are your last straw as you explode on his cock. Your core clamps down hard, gasps of extacy escaping you.

To Mark’s credit, he holds off his own high long enough to fuck you through yours, and the moment you begin to be oversitmulated, he cums too. You can feel his cock throbbing in your pussy, his load spilling along your insides and coating your walls.

You kiss him deeply, enjoying his whimpers of pleasure.

You’ve never cum with someone balls deep inside of you before, and there’s a voice in the back of your mind itching for you to tell Mark that you love him- but you bite your tongue. You simply kiss him, holding him close while he finishes.

Finally, Mark lets out a small gasp, pulling away from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily.

You’ve never felt this connected to someone in your entire life.

“Are you going to get us tissues?” you ask after a moment, letting out a small laugh.

Mark chuckles, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “I just wanna enjoy you a second longer.”

“Puppy, you have literally all the time in the world.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I really wanted to kick the year off with something more realistic. I wanted to write about a reader who over thinks, who doesn’t cum super easily like we usually see in fanfic. I wanted to touch on the realism of relationships, the use of sex toys, things discussed in the bonus like whiskey dick, domestic showers together and troubles sleeping next to someone new- I really hope you guys liked this even though it’s not as classic fanfic as I usually write :) 

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “I drank too much,” Mark admits. “Hyuck kept egging me on- I’m pretty sure he wanted to get me blackout so I couldn’t fuck you tonight- But I swear- whisky dick won’t last all night,” Mark tells you. “And, I mean, you know I love using your toys so it doesn’t even matter.” He’s adorable. Of course Hyuck wouldn’t take into account that sometimes Mark is perfectly happy making you cum with your toys and not fucking you at all. Mark truly is a man built for your pleasure, and you’re not surprised that ‘whiskey dick’ hasn’t phased him.

cw/ tw. drunk!Mark, shower shenanigans, fingering, pussy eating, use of toys/g spot stimulator, Mark has ‘whiskey dick’ and can’t get hard at first, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, munch!Mark, creampie/fullness kink, etc…  I petnames. (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 starring. Mark x afab!Reader

bonus

“Puppy?” You sit up in bed, holding your phone close. Mark’s at some boys night thing, and you really hadn’t expected to hear from him, but here he is, calling you at midnight.

“Hi, Sunshine.” 

“Hi Sunshine!” Someone else screams in the background.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Hyuck!” Mark yells back. “Not you, baby, I’m talking to Hyuck.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, “I gathered that.”

You’ve also gathered that your boyfriend is drunk. You can hear it in his voice, and when he begins to hiccup, it’s even more evident.

“So uh, I wanna see you.”

“You can see me tomorrow, we have dinner plans, right?”

“No, I wanna see you tonight and tomorrow,” Mark insists. 

“You do, huh?” God, he’s adorable.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t you want to finish boys night?” you prompt, not wanting to get in the way of his time with friends. You know Jeno would get mad about Mark spending time with his ex instead of his boys, and you don’t want to be that girlfriend who restricts her lover from his bros.

“Nah, fuck this,” Mark says. “Jeno went home with a girl, it’s just me and Hyuck and Renjun and Chenle and Jaemin and Jisung-” Sweet Jesus, he’s listing half of your work staff. “But I wanna be with you. I can call a cab and be at your place in like, fifteen minutes?”

“Whatever you want, puppy,” you grin. “I’ll be here.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @aaniag

✘ nct taglist

@milkyway-vxm - @nctsawrus - @shiningdery - @freezerandfame

@fairieblog - @fairybr3ad - @peachyjaemin - @chemaistry

@sehunniepot

Thank you to those who interacted with the teaser

@nae-vm - @rum-gone-why - @kgneptun - @handinyourpants

@stolasisyourparent - @icedearlgreytea

[paperclipninja]

I'm gonna sound very old person yells at cloud but I don't care, I feel like I need to say this. We all (well most of us) know that messaging Neil with any headcanons/theories/wishes/hopes/dreams to do with the show is a no-go because it could potentially compromise the story he wants to tell or ends up telling. And yes, he is a grown up who chooses what to respond to etc and I think it's wonderful he engages with fans and answers a lot of lovely and interesting questions about his process, writing and journey etc.

However, there is another reason not to send theories and ideas about how the show should go to the show creator in the hope of a response: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether a theory is correct, or a speculation may or may not play out. That is why fandom exists.

Online fandom is where we all come together to yell and cry and throw around weird-ass ideas and theories and look at art and read fanfic and unite in our love of characters and a show. A huge part of being in fandom, is the way fandom theories become like an understood little bit of fanon lore that some people attach to, others disregard. But it doesn't matter. And part of the fun of fandom, is when a new season or a new episode of the show comes out, you have this collective catalogue of ideas and theories and headcanons and you get to yell and scream, "omg it happened1" or "lol that that thing was ever talked about" or "thank god that theory didn't come to pass".

Wanting to know now (not that we ever will) and not wanting to wait until the next season to find out the answers diminishes the fandom experience. I cannot stress enough how much we are in the absolute peak of the fandom experience right now. The between seasons time is the ultimate time to be a part of a fandom (as I'm sure many people are well aware), knowing there's another season coming energises everyone to create and connect and speculate and it's glorious! I know it feels like it'll be like this forever, but it won't. Next season is the last and yes, there will be a flurry and uptick of all the energy and excitement once again, and I absolutely believe Good Omens fandom will live on and remain active and thrumming. But there won't be theories and what ifs and hunting for clues for the next season, and over time it will dwindle a little and plateau and some people will fall into other fandoms, and while it will probably bubble away, there won't be the anticipation that sits with us now.

My point is, fandom is where we get to throw around ideas and flail and be ridiculous and also serious sometimes, but it's all for us. For the fans. Showing Neil theories or getting in a flap about a particular speculation and asking if x, y, or z might happen isn't just about putting the creator in an awkward spot, it takes away what fandom is about. Just let this time be ours. If you haven't been in fandom before, enjoy it! Don't be in a hurry to seek definitive answers or know things either way.

It doesn't matter if any or none or all of the things that float around end up being correct or incorrect. Fandom isn't about being right. It's about being a part of a community and being able to share ideas and it's about it being FUN.

So TL;DR Stop sending Neil fan ideas because that is for fandom, not for the creator.