#she has not much to do rn but she has a lot on her plate in terms of like...getting over him and healing and trying to get a job etc but

[faaun]

WHAT DO I DOOO

[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 

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@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

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@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

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✘ nct taglist

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@sehunniepot

Thank you to those who interacted with the teaser

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@stolasisyourparent - @icedearlgreytea

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 8

content warning: fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI, thigh riding 😙, thigh fucking 🤪, public indecency??? exhibitionism???, katoptronophilia aka mirror sexy time (thanks for the word jelly 🪼), just overall a really good time

word count: 4.4k, not proofread (we're only gearing up to what I assume will be another giant chapter 😷)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who does some sets of push-ups, sit-ups, and leg raises in place of the gym. You watch him while you wait for room service, encouraging him from the side. Your presence was especially needed during the sit-ups when you sit at his feet, holding them down and giving him kisses when sits up.

GymRat!Miguel who sings loudly in the shower after his workout. You have to answer the door with an apology as the server laughs at Miguel belting out Britany Spears.

GymRat!Miguel who finally decides to respond to his texts. He’s had enough time to cool off and your presence was like a calm breeze, kissing away at his skin.

He discards his empty plate, placing it back on the cart. You’re still chewing away at some fluffy pancakes, enjoying the views of the high-rise hotel as the default channel played soft jazz.

GymRat!Miguel who lays in your lap while you eat some fruit. He has his phone in his hands ready to type, but he opens his mouth, silently begging for you to feed him grapes and pineapple chunks.

He hums to himself happily when you comply, combing a hand through his hair. He felt so peaceful like this. Serene.

GymRat!Miguel who sighs as he opens the message app. Here we go.

Abuela 💕:

“Abuela I’ll call you tonight”

“And there will be no babies. Not now”

“There better not be!”

Pa:

“Gracias pa”

“I’m glad you were able to meet her”

“She means a lot to me”

“I can tell”

“Mijo you pack a big punch!”

“Uno más!!!”

“You got that from me 👍🏽”

“Sure did pa 😭”

Gabri 🤡🤏🏽:

“You’re such an instigator”

“It’s not instigating. It’s reporting 😌”

“‘It’s reporting ☝🏽🥸’”

“Shaddap”

“You think I’m letting a member of the robotics team bully me?”

“You have perfect pitch and play the saxophone”

“You’re not winning this battle”

“Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining my girl? 🤨”

“Direct this clown act to her”

“Not sure how she puts up with it but I’ll free her soon”

“Stfu”

“A real man would be doing OTHER things but I digress”

“Did you really have to send a pic”

“You hate me”

“It’s clear to me now”

“Anyway what’s this about Tyler punching things”

“OHHHHH”

“He got him good”

“Square in the face”

“A bloody mouth to match his nose”

“TWINEM”

“Good”

"Pa said he granted me the ability to punch"

“He can dream on about that”

“Because where tf is my strength 😒”

"He punched Tyler before"

"Your time will be soon"

"😕"

"Also Ik about Nancy cheating already"

"Tyler told me in high school"

"I didn't want to be the one to tell Kron"

"Ur better than me"

"I would have told him that after that punch"

"YOUR MOM IS A HOMEWRECKER!"

"That's not what that means but ok"

Dana:

“Does your bf know you’re lusting after others?”

“Not if you don’t tell 😙”

“….I don’t think I want to give you her number”

“You’re perfect for Gabri”

“You’re both unbearable”

“What’s unbearable is I’m not talking to your gf rn”

“It’s too many O’Haras”

“Too much testosterone”

“SAVE ME MIG’S GF”

“MIG’S GF SAVE ME!!!”

Dad….Tyler:

“It’s ok. For what it’s worth, I can tell that you had good intentions.”

“Gabri told me what happened”

“I apologize for acting out of order and punching your son, but I couldn’t let him disrespect my girlfriend and my mom. No matter how difficult she may be, I’m the one who should tell her about it. Not him.”

"I completely understand that. You did what you thought was right, and that's far more admirable than what Kron did."

"In another reality, you and Kron could get along. For now, I will aim for cordial. I will make sure that he apologizes to you, your girlfriend, and Conchata."

"I don't want an apology if it's not genuine."

"Let's move on from that. You said you wanted to make it up to me? I saw that you added more dates to the hotel. Thank you for that, you didn't have to."

"Yes! If you are willing, I would love for you and your girlfriend to meet with me. I actually arranged something for you, Gabriel, and your girlfriends. I want to hear your input before I finalize the details."

"Sure thing. Is this afternoon ok?"

"That's perfect. I'll see you then."

Ma:

Read: 11:10 AM ✓✓

“Ugh,” Miguel groans, shutting his phone off and closing his eyes.

You stop rubbing his hair and look down, “What’s wrong?”

Miguel grunts as he moves your hand to continue, “My mom wants me to come home. Not sure if I want to do that right now. Not unless I know she’s ready to be accountable for once, which I highly doubt.”

You hum in understanding, “She’s still your mom, though. You’ll have to see her eventually.”

“My mom or not, she had no right to talk to you the way she did,” Miguel said reaching his hand up to your face. “It was cruel and…strange coming towards you. She doesn’t know you. Not yet, anyway.”

It’s not like she was trying to know you, either. Miguel seemed to understand this in your silence.

“I have to go grab some clothes so she might just get her wish,” Miguel says, turning his head towards your stomach.

You look down at him, “You don’t have to. Today is my last day here.”

“Well, lucky for us, Tyler extended the stay for a few more days,” he grinned. He started to move your shirt to fondle your skin.

Your stomach twitched as his breath brushed your skin. He started to kiss along your front, head disappearing under your sweater. He hummed as he started to tug at your underwear with his teeth.

“Hey,” you say, watching his head moving around through the material. “Stop that and finish talking.”

You pulled your sweater up to reveal him, his teeth still holding the band of your panties and eyes like a cat that got caught.

He let the band go close to your stomach so it wouldn’t snap, “This visual is making me forget everything.” His eyes are heavy and wandering.

You look to where he’s looking to see that you’re essentially flashing him.

You drop your shirt in embarrassment, letting out a sound of panic.

“No, no, baby let me see.”

“No, you’re at such a weird angle.”

“All art must be viewed up close and personal.”

Miguel sat up from your lap. He watched as you huffed and pinched the neckline of your sweater, moving it for air.

"You're so confident from afar, but when I'm near you like this, you get so shy. Even in public, you can be so bold. It's just you and me here."

"It's just," you watch Miguel as he crowds your space. His mouth goes behind your ear to press his lips into your skin. "I don't know. It feels like...more when it's just us. More real."

"Does it not feel real when we're in public?"

Miguel sits back, eyes wondering to yours. There's a pinch in his eyebrows, so faint you almost miss it.

"It does! That's not what I mean."

"Then, what is it? Tell me. Talk to me."

"I want to do more with you."

"But?" Miguel holds your hands in his, stopping you from picking at the loose threads of the sweater. He rubs them with his thumbs, itching to pull you closer.

"But, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could pass out. I get overwhelmed and nervous. I don't want to say or do anything stupid. It gets harder to control myself. I feel crazy."

Oh.

Oh.

"Then there are moments when my brain fools me into thinking that you don't like me in the way that I like you. Moments when that girl from not so long ago comes back, ashamed of herself and her body. A small part of me that thinks you could date anyone else and you're settling."

Miguel takes a moment to process your words.

He takes a breath, then opens his mouth.

"You really don't understand how much you affect me, do you?"

Miguel pulled you in his lap, fed up with this charade.

You grip his shoulders, steadying your balance with how fast he grabbed you.

"Miguel-"

"I don't know everything that your last boyfriend did to you and I don't know everything that you've experienced because of your body. Baby, I don't even know what you've seen all this time to make you think you're not worthy of love and respect, but I'm here to squash it."

"I meant it when I said that I love you. I'll learn it in a hundred languages just to remind you. I'll even tattoo it on my forehead for you to be reminded of it every single time you see me."

"I don't think you need to go that far," you say, eyes warm.

"No, I think I should. Anything for you to understand me. Anything for you to see you like how I see you."

"Letting out my deepest darkest secrets here, but do you know what I did when we first met?"

You shake your head, curious.

"I had a dream about you that was so good, I fell out of my bed. Peter never lets me live it down."

"A sweet dream?"

"Now, you and I both know it was more than that. Two cold showers should answer your questions."

You hide your face in his neck, heartbeat drumming through you, "Did you really?"

"Hand to heart. I understand your feelings. I acknowledge them too, but I need you to understand mine as well. Trust me when I say that you are unbelievably sexy. I love you and your body. My eyes caught your appearance before I came to know your personality. Anybody would be lucky to have you, but I'm the luckiest because you chose me."

Miguel hugged you close and kissed your head.

"Now let's rewind. You said you feel crazy when you're close to me?"

You groan in his neck.

"Uncontrollable? Heated?"

"Miggy, stop."

"My girlfriend is head over heels for me," Miguel hummed as he rubbed his hands down your naked legs. "She wants to ruin me."

"No, I don't."

"She's still wearing my clothes with nothing underneath but her panties and is leaning all over me. Her thighs are around my waist and she just told me that she wants me."

"You put me here," you lean up and stare at him. Your cheeks were hot and your eyes were dewey.

"She's looking at me like she's upset, but now I know that her heart is going crazy. I want to kiss her."

"Then do it," you whisper.

The kiss is sweet, the taste of fruit and syrup still on your lips. You finally relax in his arms, body melted against his. His hands slip under your sweater, dancing over your back. Your skin is soft and warm, a blanket over Miguel's figure.

The time where you two connect extends deeper and longer. You let your hands venture further than the nape of his neck, roaming until you brush across his chest. Miguel's breath hitched as your nails raked his nipple, chest jumping at the impact.

You break for a second, wanting to get air, but Miguel leans back in, desperate. He's whining, groping your body all over. His noises go straight to your core, twitching above him. He matches your pace, dragging your hips across his, reveling in how fast your body was reacting to him.

When he leans back, there's a string of saliva connecting you two. He's breathing hard as he watches you.

"Can I take this off? Please," Miguel grips the bottom of your sweater, eyes pleading.

You bite your lip and slide the sweater over your head, dropping it to the bed. You bring your hands over the top of your chest, arms framing your breasts.

You can't look Miguel in the eyes, too shy, "Is this fine?"

Miguel's eyes almost turn as he watches you, so shy but so seductive. He reaches out to cup your breasts in his hands, groaning when they plush through his fingers.

"You're so," Miguel rubs his thumbs across your nipples, enjoying you twitching and gasping in his hold. "Fuck."

His gaze burned into you, hungry as you lapped his tongue around your nipples. You let out a whimper when you feel him pull your skin in, mouth hot. It doesn't beat his pleased hum, voice like a man finally getting relief.

He massages your vacant breast, movements getting harsher. His grip is like a vice making it harder for you to second-guess yourself.

You hiss and rake your hands through his hair, "B-baby, be careful."

"Lo siento, mi amor," Miguel says, kissing across your areolas. "'M sorry."

You find your breath, fighting to steady your voice, "You're on me like we didn't just do something earlier."

Miguel paused and placed his cheek on your chest, "Baby, I'm a virgin and a man, not a prude. With practice, I could go all day."

The thought of that has you tightening your legs around him, hips stuttering. Miguel shifts to pull you over his left thigh.

"Does that excite you, baby?" Miguel smirks.

You close your eyes and nod, hips rolling over his thigh, keening high as he hikes his thigh closer to your sex and grips your waist. His muscles feel so good against you, the sounds getting wetter and wetter with each swipe.

"God, you're so pretty like this," Miguel sighs. "My gorgeous girl."

Your movements are becoming more frantic, Migiuel's voice in your ears spurring you on. He was sucking into your neck, growling as you scratched against his shoulder blades.

"That's right, baby. Keep going. Use me to get off," Miguel helped your hips keep a steady pace, pulling at your briefs to a makeshift thong. The tightness of your underwear combined with his thigh and his voice sends you into overdrive.

"Miguel!" you sob, hands gripping his hair. Your body trembles as you squeeze your thighs around him, cunt pulsating around nothing but your underwear, release leaking onto his leg.

Miguel cooed as you dropped your weight against him, body limp and hips fluttering with aftershocks. You panted as you kept your head on his shoulder, willing yourself to calm down.

"Are you ok?" Miguel asks, kissing your temple, your ear, your cheek. He feels you nod into his skin, blissed out.

"I like how you called me the needy one and you're the one who came three times today," Miguel mumbled, laughing as you swatted at his pec.

"I already confessed what you do to me. This shouldn't be shocking."

"Didn't say that. 'M just happy you feel more comfortable around me. It's what I want." One last kiss to your face seals his joy.

You lift up on shaky knees, hands holding onto Miguel for dear life. Your thighs were still shaking and your underwear was ruined. Miguel's cock twitched at the essence that seeped onto his leg, watching as sticky lines dragged from his skin to yours.

He grabbed you by the waist with one hand and wiped at your slick with another.

He's about to swipe at it with his tongue until you stop him.

"Miguel! Don't do that," you say, flustered.

"What? I'm just enjoying the fruits of my labor," he pouts as you grab some napkins and clean off his hands and thigh.

"So close to eating you, yet so far," he sighs miserably. "One day."

You ignore him and look down at his erection, taking a knuckle and lining the side. It was your first time really paying attention to him down there, now that you weren't distracted by his advances.

"What about you?"

He twitched as you walked along his clothed shaft, pre-come leaking through the fabric.

"As much as I want you to continue, we have to get ready for today," Miguel jerks as you continue your ministrations with a pout on your face. "And, I need condoms if you want to take this any further."

"Not even a blowjob?" you peer at him with your deer eyes again.

Miguel took a deep breath, "I was right. You are trying to ruin me."

GymRat!Miguel who lets you know that Tyler wants to meet you both after you both have changed clothes for the day. Something about a surprise.

"I love surprises!" you say turning to Miguel with a smile on your face. "As long as it's nothing like last night. I think it'll be ok."

Miguel matches your smile and presses his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who stops at his home briefly, trying to get in and get out. He manages to fill up his travel bag, drop off his laundry, and give Gabriel a heart attack all before his mom notices he's there.

"Where are you going?" Gabriel asks with his hand over his heart, headphones lopsided around his neck.

"None of your business, nosy."

"Uh, it kind of is my business. You think you're grown when you're really not."

Miguel rolls his eyes. He didn't really want to tell Gabriel, but sometimes he couldn't say no to him.

"We're going out to see Tyler. He has a surprise for us. He also said he arranged something for us including you and Dana."

"Oh shit! Ok. And if mom asks where you are?"

"Tell her I'll come by tomorrow. I'm spending the next few days with my girlfriend."

"Alrighty," Gabriel sing-songs, placing his headphones back on his head. "You kids be safe. Don't scare my girl away."

Miguel smacks Gabriel across the head and runs out the door before he can catch up.

GymRat!Miguel who just laughs at your face while you frantically unlock the car to let him in.

"Baby, what's wrong?" you ask, voice in a panic.

"A string bean is trying to attack me," he responds, giggling as Gabriel runs out of the house.

"I'm getting you back for that you oaf!" Gabriel yells as Miguel backs out of the driveway. He stops his anger to wave at you, which you return with a sweet smile.

"Baby, you're encouraging him."

GymRat!Miguel who guides you through the doors of a cafe that Tyler recommended. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his stark white hair and light clothing. The only semblance of color on him was his silver jewelry.

He sat there, typing away at his phone, oblivious to the people around him who found familiarity in his form.

"Dad," Miguel said, the word funny on his tongue. He tried to make an effort to refer to him as his father in public, something Tyler appreciated greatly.

"Son!" he got up and engulfed him in a hug, giving you a softer version afterward. "It's good to see you both."

"It's lovely to see you again as well, Mr. Stone," you say, giving Miguel a smile when he pulls your chair out for you. "Thank you so much for thinking of us after all that's happened. Thank you for paying for my stay as well, the hotel is very lovely."

"Anything for Miguel's loved ones," he smiles in a way that has a hint of Miguel. You feel better going into the rest of this meal.

GymRat!Miguel who almost chokes on his coffee before Tyler can finish his sentence.

"A yacht?!"

"Is it too much? I can do something else to your liking," Tyler frets, wiping his hands on his slacks. "I'm not sure what all kids your age like nowadays."

"I've never been on a yacht. so I don't even know how to react," Miguel responds.

The two of them are sporting the same deer-in-headlights look.

"I'm sure it would be a great experience for all of us. If everyone doesn't mind, I'm sure we can get together and have a great time," you say, helping the two of them out. "Something nice to start the summer off."

"That's great! I will have everything ready by the beginning of next month then," Tyler says, mood lifting immediately. He was a lot like a golden retriever. "With that in order, I'd like to grant you this."

He takes his wallet out, reaching in to grab a card.

As he slides it across the table, your eyes grow big.

It's a black card with T. Stone pressed across the bottom.

"What's this for?" Miguel asks, staring at the card with building curiosity.

"You all need clothes for the trip, don't you?" Tyler asks. "And I'm sure you need more clothes to wear this week. Please take this, I don't mind. I trust you not to go overboard. I'll let you know when to give it back."

Miguel took the card in his hands, the weight of it heavier than any of his own.

"I guess it's time for a shopping spree," Miguel said, a smile growing on his face.

GymRat!Miguel who drives you straight to the mall. The windows are down as you both laugh and sing to the song on the radio. Miguel wishes he could record this moment, but for now, he dials it back to replay in his memory.

GymRat!Miguel who is happy to carry your bags and encourages you to buy more. Whenever you start to feel like you've gone overboard, he just whispers "black card" in your ear like a devil on your shoulder.

GymRat!Miguel who convinces you to walk around the name-brand stores. He did have Tyler's card, but he was also thoroughly watching what you gravitated towards. He locked away so many gift ideas for later.

GymRat!Miguel who joins you in the mirror of a shades shop. The both of you take pictures with coordinating glasses and you giggle as Miguel makes silly faces in some of them.

GymRat!Miguel who becomes your doll as you pick out outfits for him. He's smiling down at you as you put different shirts up to his body, mumbling to yourself as you make decisions. So pretty.

GymRat!Miguel who waits while you try on some clothes, giddy whenever you show him a new outfit. You managed to find clothes that coordinated with his and you're super excited about it.

"Close your eyes!" you yell through the door.

He does so and listens for you to walk out. After you take a while, he opens his eyes a little.

"Baby, no peeking," you chastise.

He huffs and waits a little longer.

"Ok. 1, 2, 3, open!"

His eyes land on you in a dress that hugs your curves like no other. Your chest fills out the top perfectly and seeing your stomach through the front is driving him mad.

"Do you like it?" you turned around, giving Miguel a grand view of how your ass was sitting in the dress.

"Do the dressing rooms have a time limit?"

You blink at him owlishly, "No? Why?"

GymRat!Miguel who drags all of your bags and you back inside of the dressing room with lightning speed. As soon as he locks the door, he's attached to your lips, kneading at your ass and hips.

You gasp in his mouth, shocked at how fast he's moving.

"Miguel, what- oh," you sigh as he leans down and pulls your dress up, face buried in your neck.

"You look so good, mi amor. I can't help it."

GymRat!Miguel who almost cums when you pull his dick out. Your eyes grow along with his erection, watching as he twitches in your hold. You've never taken anyone this big and from your hesitance, Miguel can gather this much.

"We don't have to do anything. In fact, you don't have to do that here," he pants.

"You mean take you down my throat?" you ask, running your thumb over his head, watching in awe as liquid seeped out. Miguel bit his hand to quiet his moans. "I'll wait until we're somewhere more private and less noticeable that I'm on my knees for you."

Miguel looks at the open space under the dressing room door, "Yeah that's probably for the best."

GymRat!Miguel who places you in front of him, both of you facing the mirror. Your dress is bunched up and Miguel is rocking his cock in between your thighs.

He's bent down, biting lightly on your shoulder so that he doesn't shout. Your thighs were so warm and plush against him and his pre-cum was spewing out of him like a fountain.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he moans a little too loud after a few minutes.

GymRat!Miguel who watches you in the mirror. Your tits were so close to slipping from the top of your dress, the impact from his hips jerking your entire body. He grabbed at both of them, watching as you moan at the contact. His slaps got louder and louder, milky fluid running down your legs.

GymRat!Miguel who is overcome with need when you turn and run your tongue across his earlobe. He convulses as his release spurts across the room, landing on the mirror. He grips your hips and breathes hard into your skin, the tempo of his heart moving quick.

You pat his head and praise him, heavy eyes following your hand as you rub his tip that's still rubbing through your thighs. He whines, sensitive, but not moving away from you.

GymRat!Miguel who wipes you down carefully with some wipes you have in your purse. Luckily you both haven't ruined yet another pair of underwear.

He kisses you softly when he finishes, little confessions of love traveling from his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who checks the dressing room one last time, making sure he's gotten any evidence of his removed from the area. Your green dress is in his arms and you've changed back to your outfit.

The area is clean, but there are fresh hickeys on your neck, something he got carried away with.

GymRat!Miguel who walks out like nothing happened. You on the other hand, hand over some extra clothes you didn't like to a worker in slight embarrassment. He eyes you both with a look of horror.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you Auntie Anne's in the crowded food court. You hum happily after each bite. He dusts cinnamon off the corner of your lips with a smile.

GymRat!Miguel who moves from dusting to leaning across the table to lick the crumbs off when a table full of guys keeps eying you.

"What was that for?" you asked, oblivious to the hound dogs around you.

"Nothing. I just love you, baby."

dividers by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I got a very useful lesson on condoms and BJs while writing this chapter. It won't ever be applied to this fic, BUT it was still kinda fun nonetheless.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! Leave a like, a reblog, and COMMENTS if you did!!! 🩵

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[moonstruckme]

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you. 

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that. 

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo. 

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally. 

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you. 

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.” 

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.” 

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.” 

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.” 

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.” 

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?” 

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.” 

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.” 

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.” 

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.” 

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.” 

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.” 

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.” 

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.” 

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with? 

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.” 

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.” 

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.” 

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.

[romanestuffsposts]

Oksy so it's a very random start rn but last week I was with a friend and she gave me a speacial cookie but didnt told me what in it was so i ate it and started to feel fuzzy and later I was vomiting and had a head ache and stuff and than she told me that it was a space cookie with weed in it. I was so scared when I start to notice that I dont feel good but she just made fun of me. Now i cut the contact and need comfort (when I noticed that I was not feeling good I was walking home and when I was home I was still so scared and crying that I cried in my dads arms crying myself to sleep)

Daddy stucky x little reader where she was in the same Situation and they found her crying, scared and throwing up with much comfort ❤️❤️

Hi there love! 💜

First of all I’m so so sorry that it happened to you. You are the only one who can make the decision for yourself, if you want to take a space cookie then it has to come from you and no one else ! It’s just respect. It made me so mad when I read what you send me, not mad at you but mad at your friend (who is really not a good friend btw). I can totally understand how you felt afterward and how betrayed you must have felt.

I once took a space cookie at a party at my cousin’s house and I saw everyone laughing and running everywhere while I was on my chair, completely lost. I moved my eyes from left to right and I had the feeling that the world was spinning. It wasn’t really fun because I didn’t enjoy my night because of that (two hours after I ate it I was in bed imao). But it was my choice, I was with people I trust and I wanted to take it. That’s the difference. I felt sick too (probably because it’s was the fist time I ate weed- I already smoke it but not eating it) but it was my decision.

Those kind of experience can’t come from anyone else but you. That’s just how it is and nothing else is acceptable.

I hope you recover from that horrible experience sweetie, you’re so strong and I’m so happy for you that you had your dad to comfort you. Be careful my love <3

I hope you like how I wrote this fic, lots of love babe ❤️

****

warnings : mention of drugs, taking drugs against your will, feeling dizzy and sick, comfort, reassurance, trust issues, pet names, paci

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : you didn’t chose your friends correctly

****

You always had a hard time making friends. Not because you’re a bad person or because you’re mean to everyone that look at you but because you’re discreet, you’re shy and you’re scared to go to people.

But once you make a friend, you’re ready to do everything for that person. You’re that kind of friend, the one who gave the half of your meal if your friend doesn’t have anything to eat. Your the kind of friend that will sleep on the floor so the other sleep in your bed. You’re the kind of friend that pardon everyone because for you, everyone can have a second chance. Mistakes happen

Mistakes..

You wouldn’t call it a mistake this time tho.

You were enjoying a sleepover at your friend’s house, everything went good, you were having fun and you even made new friends that were also invited. One of them came with a plate of cookies and you can’t lie and say you hadn’t thought of them all evening.

Apparently they knew each others for years and at first that scared you but once you met them your nerves actually relax a bit. They’re used to do things together and lived plenty life experience together while you did it alone but that’s fine, you’re here now, you’re with them so everything is good.

Around 11pm, the one that came with the cookies open the box and give one to everyone. Everyone seemed excited and you didn’t question it because you were too, not for the same reasons tho.

You ate that cookie so fast that your stomach isn’t really happen. You went to grab another one when your friend stop you ‘’wait just a few minutes before taking another, trust me’’ she winks

Trust me

You shrug it off and went back to playing, you were enjoying the night when all of a sudden, everyone start to be a little bit weird, too weird to your liking.

The more you try to understand why one of the guy is laughing hard just because he has a fly on his drink, or why your friend has a hard time opening her red eyes that you start to feel weird too.

You stand up thinking you needed water but soon realised that mistake. Once your butt leave the seat, it feels like the world start spinning around you. You look around you, scared and lost, everyone were enjoying their time while you just wanted to crawl in bed and recover.

You tried to go to your friend but when she wasn’t ghosting you she was just telling you that it was fine that you didn’t needed to worry about anything and just enjoying the feeling.

You didn’t felt listen or understood at all and that alone make you feel even more sick. With all the strength you can get, you pick up your bag and leave the house.

You live a few blocks away from your friend- ex friend, so you decide to walk home, not really knowing what to do else. You don’t know if your Daddies are home or if they took advantage of the fact that you were away to do something together.

While walking home you start crying, you felt betrayed, you may not be the most thoughtful girl but you’re definitely not stupid, you know there was something in the cookie, you just didn’t realised it on time.

You’re relieved to see your door’s house and has a warm feeling in your chest once you close it behind you. As the click of the door closing is heard, your back fall onto it and you slide down the door, until your touching the ground.

You soon hear footsteps coming toward where you are ‘’baby ?’’ Your Papa walk toward you and kneels down ‘’what are you doing here ?’’

‘’is everything okay, baby girl ?’’ Your Daddy asks as well. You shake your head, tears sliding down your face.

Your Papa rests his hand against your cheek ‘’take deep breath, love. You’re at home, with us, nothing can harm you here’’

You take shaky breathes and squeeze your hands ‘’baby tell us what’s wrong’’

‘’I- I didn wanted to. I just wanted cookie, I promise I didn k-know’’ you cry harder.

‘’Hey hey shhh, it’s okay little one, keep taking deep breathes we won’t get mad at you’’ your Daddy reassures you.

‘’I feel bad’’ you cry and wipe your eye with the back of your hand

‘’How do you feel bad ?’’ Your Papa asks, taking your hand away from your eye. He hates when you do that because you’re always too harsh with yourself and he doesn’t want you to get hurt ‘’explain to us’’

You sob ‘’I don know i-‘’ you breath out ‘’everything is spinning and- and i tired’’ you whine.

Your Daddies look at each other, it doesn’t take them a long time to connect about what had happened. You talked about cookies and then feeling bad and finally everything is spinning. They immediately understood.

Your Daddy stand up and lifts you up in his arms, you immediately roll yourself around him. He waits until your Papa finishes removing your shoes and sockets before going to the couch. He sits down and rests you on his laps ‘’it’s okay my love, you went through something you shouldn’t have to without your consent but you’ll be fine’’

‘’nothing will happen to you, you’ll feel bad for a few more hours but that’s all’’ he kisses your forehead ‘’papa will be back soon with a glass of water, it’ll make you feel better’’

‘’Close your eyes babydoll, the world will not spinning as much as it does when your eyes are open’’ he quietly says, his fingers sliding down your hair to calm you down

‘’Here princess’’ your Papa sits on the couch and help you drinking the water. The fresh liquid that slide down your throat help at making you feel more relax and calm, just like your Daddy said it would.

He takes your feet on his laps and gently rubs them while speaking softly to you. Your eyes are still close but your other senses are multiplying, the touches of your Daddies help at calming your nerve and the reassurance behind the truth your Daddy said earlier about you closing your eyes and the water thing is really good at relaxing you.

‘’How about you sleep with us tonight ?’’

They know you’re not in a big danger but it reassure them too if you were with them for the night.

You nod your head and before you can put your finger in your mouth, your Daddy slides your paci in it.

‘’We won’t let her hang out with these people, right ?’’ Your Daddy asks as his eyes wonder around your sleepy face.

‘’As if she would want to hang out with them again’’ your Papa scoffs as his hands still rubs your cold feet

[teecupangel]

i know you have so much on your plate rn but i can't stop thinking about Ezio-era Baker!Desmond and the shenanigan layers of ✨intrigue✨ going on with Ezio and Leo thinking he’s Giovani's bastard, and Maria inviting him to the villa on a whim ’cause she thinks her kids (and Leo) like the pastries, and Desmond misinterpreting absolutely everything because that boy is a Wreck™

what comes of it, tho?? is Desmond trying to alter history more than just pre-inventing exotic baked goods? is he already having to dodge assassins around Italy while trying to protect the Auditore family, getting on Giovani's radar and spooking him ’cause he can't figure out what branch he's from? or is Desmond holed up in his bakery trying very hard NOT to change anything ’cause hey he’d already saved the world he’d like to not fuck things up bad enough to have to do it again?

does Giovani catch a glimpse of him at some point (either just in the bakery or while Desmond’s out being assassin-y), and instead of thinking he looks like himself or Ezio (since this would be before Ezio gets the scar), thinks he looks eerily like the statue of Altaïr? as another layer of shenanigan, he could come to Leonardo with the idea of time travel but thinks that Desmond is from the PAST rather than the FUTURE, and Leo spends the whole convo trying not to blurt that he thinks/knows Desmond is GIOVANI'S kid

just. the confusion of this au speaks to me, since it’s ALMOST crack-y but also these fools are canonically FOOLS, and i love the way you blend angst with shenanigans. im also shippy at heart, so would love to see your take on that in this au if you have the time 👀

(thank you for reading, i hope you're doing well! 🧡)

As long as you guys are find that your asks are getting answered a month later, I’m alright with adding more to my plate XD (just to be clear, this is a first-in-first-out basis for both asks and replies/reblogs and I’m only about to clear Oct 13 XD)

The original Desmond becomes a baker in Renaissance Italy and gets mistaken as Giovanni’s illegitimate child idea for those curious.

In this one, Desmond only went as far as stop the Auditores from being arrested by dropping key documents showing Uberto’s treachery to the Medici. He stayed as far away as he could from the Auditores and only dropped off the evidence in Lorenzo’s bedside table one day, slipping into the darkness. Anyone who saw him actually thought he was a monk since he was wearing a monk’s attire (which he burned afterwards). This does lead to Giovanni and the thieves guild looking for him after since he hasn’t done any other Assassin related stuff and was simply living his life as a baker, they’re hitting a dead end. Desmond doesn’t plan to do anything else since he believes that the Auditores would be able to handle it from here and he’s betting on Giovanni finally starting Ezio’s training after learning that the Templars are after his family.

Giovanni’s first glimpse of him is when he checked the bakery from afar since his family seemed to like it so much. He just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t post any danger to his family and maybe even talk to La Volpe into adding it to the thieves’ patrol route just so they would have eyes on the bakery at all time. It’s gotten so popular that the Medici are even thinking of ordering from them so Giovanni figured he should do reconnaissance before it got to that point. When he saw Desmond, he doesn’t see the similarities between them, he saw Desmond looking a lot like the statue of Altaïr and he freaks out. Because, unlike Ezio or Leonardo, he does have an inkling of how powerful Those Who Come Before were. He has seen the Shroud and he has heard the tales of how Altaïr had mastered one of their weapons. And… if the Shroud could heal all and any injuries then… In this case, Giovanni doesn’t think Desmond is a time traveler, he thinks Desmond is Altaïr himself who has gained immortality thanks to the ‘powers’ of Those Who Come Before.

Thank you! I honestly like writing these ideas where it’s crack but not crack enough that it’s a bit confusing XD

[agendabymooner]

dear ! carlos s. x ofc (filipino!content creator!ofc)

“i promise i will hold your hand no matter what may come within the beautiful and captivating strangeness of our love.”

summary: much like the ricciardos, carlos and magda (mostly) have their own moments of weaknesses on twitter.

content warning: use of explicit language, tweets + insta post, allusions to smut/dirty joke (no graphic details), jumpscare!carlos at the 6th pic, ofc is a bit feral and a headache to carlos, concerned twitter friends in the replies, reference to other characters. press to view the tweets fully

note: at the hospital rn and i’m still posting crap. enjoy!

masterlist

[translation: i think she’s a ferrari fan]

tagged monamagdalena

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, loricciardo

monamagdalena qué vergüenza what a shame liked by carlossainzjr

user1 stop picking a fight with your own husband 😭

user2 it’s giving blake lively and ryan reynolds vibes 😆🤚

carlossainzjr you’re my headache 😒😔

monamagdalena i’m a permanent migraine bb 😚

landonorris nah she told me she’s a papaya girl

carlossainzjr nah she looked good in red last night so she’s not a papaya girl 😌

user3 UNHINGED.

user4 carlos hard launched his wife and became extra horny after that

charles_leclerc she better be a ferrari fan otherwise i dunno why you married her liked by carlossainzjr

monamagdalena bold words from someone who can’t even finish a whole plate of homemade filipino food

user5 CHARLES ?!?!

user6 some crime you committed 😳

landonorris how did he get to your house before i even did? i’m betrayed.

charles_leclerc bc you’ve had a lot of firsts. let me have my moment 😡

monamagdalena don’t you remember the day when i walked down the aisle then you laughed at me when i nearly tripped on the way? i do. liked by carlossainzjr

monamagdalena but it’s okay because i love you or whatever they say on tv liked by carlossainzjr

carlossainzjr aren’t you a sweetheart cariño 🥰

monamagdalena i hope you’re prepared to come home because i’ve got my nerf on the ready

loricciardo you two are like the epitome of my pregnancy hormones 😭

user7 it really has me wondering how carlos had managed to bag her and the other way around 🤣🤣

monamagdalena gayuma love potion

carlossainzjr certainly has nothing to do with her running me over with a shopping cart or whatever

tagged carlossainzjr

liked by loricciardo, charles_leclerc, landonorris

loricciardo PREACH SISTER 😩🙏 liked by monamagdalena

user1 mona 5:5 🙏

user2 our modern socrates frfr liked by monamagdalena

monamagdalena i did not take a philosophy class in university for nothing 😌

carlossainzjr you’re so messy everywhere cariño 😂😭 liked by monamagdalena

monamagdalena ur fault not mine, you were eveasjbcks

carlossainzjr we got a bottle of holy water you can indulge 😀

user3 send her to horny jail 😭😭

user4 she warned us from the very beginning when she posted that back pic don’t complain about it now 🤨

landonorris if it hadn’t been for the food i was promised i wouldn’t even bother stepping foot in your house

charles_leclerc i got scared bc what if they christened everything and i touched that surface

pierregasly carlossainzjr wow u wild mate

[sol-consort]

Omg, I don't know if you remember, but that shepard cam girl/streamer au you did, I absolutely loved it!! I loved Shepard being so nonchalant about being tits-out in front of the crew, also them passing around the video and being embarrassed about making eye contact with Shep. You killed me!! That was so good

Oh god, this one? I wrote it while half asleep, didn't expect anyone to read it. I just checked it over again–damn the amount of typos. I fixed as much as I could rn. Hopefully, it reads smoother.

But yes! I still adore the concept and would love to expand upon it.

The army life + staying on a ship in the middle of the galaxy and sharing space with your crew has got to result in a lot of accidental nudity and flashing situations. Someone new on warships–like Tali or Liara might find it surprising, feel a bit more shy, while someone like Shepard, who was the Normandy second in command during Captian Anderson days got used to it by now.

Or maybe it's a human army thing? Quarians can't strip for first aid because it will only worsen the situation, Krogans have their thick skin and shells, and Turian skin has metal outer plating.

Only humans are this squishy, easily injured, easy to tear into. Mix that with the fact that we have a pretty good immunity system that gives us high tolerance to different microbiomes and the most genetically diverse genes in the Mass Effect canon–Mordin mentions it in ME2—it's not hard to understand why a human soldier would nonchalantly strip on an alien planet, in the middle of the battlefield, just to ensure the wound is treated properly.

But it's still hot—Shepard's total disregard to having your tits out on full display, chest heaving with every breath. Your crew desperately trying to maintain eye contact and not get distracted by the way your bare tits bounce with every powerful command and order you bark at them.

Biotics grant people healing abilities, at least ingame. It's not strange for someone like Kaidan or Liara to act as an emergency medic while on the battlefield.

Kaidan attempts to stay professional, stuttering more than usual as the raspiness in his voice becomes more apparent courtesy of his dry throat.

The tips of his ears reddish, summoning all of his will to keep his finger study as he pressed against your wound with the disinfected pad. Having to lower himself into your naked form, his clothed chest almost fully pressing against your own. The hiss you let out as your nipples touch the cold metal surface of his armour—it almost makes his heart jump out from his ribcage–barely remaining collected by the end of it.

Sneaking one lustful glance at your still exposed chest on the shuffle ride back to the Normandy before forcing himself to look away, feeling ashamed of his actions, excusing himself to his own sleeping pod the second the crew is back on board.

-

Anyway, so streamer Shepard hmm.

Miranda would quickly catch wind of this open secret and become your number one patron under a fake pseudo name. She keeps toning in each stream, even if she's working, simply setting the tablet on the table while she files the papers away. Dropping big stacks occasionally whenever you do something she likes, using the carrot method to subtly get you to act more and more slutty, exactly how she likes it.

Samara convinced herself that as long as she only watches—no touching herself, no writing a comment, no sending any money–then it's basically okay and doesn't break her code. She does, however, pay attention to your frequent commenters, checking their profiles, tracking their other socials... just in case one of them crosses the line. It is her job to make this world a safer place for everyone, right?

Thane–oh god, poor Thane. His own Siha...? Humans sure are uh... more adventurous than he thought they were. Drells are moved by emotions and romantic feelings more than sexual ones. He has very little interest in pornagrophy in any form of media because he just can't get off to a stranger, someone he doesn't love. But once he discovers that it is you in those videos, his commander Shepard, his siha. A flood of emotions wash over him. It becomes a boderline addiction.

Thane especially knows about the common human porno trope of fucking a drell because of the skin acting as both a stim and an aphrodisiac. He wonders if you'd be open to...having him on the stream for that? Just to boost your views...no other reason :) Definitely not to sate some deep primal instinct within him, the need to state his claim by fucking you in front of all of your adoring fans, he is such a tender gentle soul, he would never have those possessive thoughts, right?....right?

The poor guy almost voices this suggestion out each time you come over for a little chat.

Jack would be your top commenter, not even under a fake profile or a different name. Straight up Jack with her own profile picture to boost. Spewing filth and ordering you around like her own personal whore. Of course you don't pay her any mind and only oblige her requests after you make her beg.

Garrus wants to join you so badly. Picture this, the first ever human/turian streamers ever since the war! It will be a hit with both planets. Your profile will skyrocket in popularity. Especially if this is in ME1 where the human-turian intergalactic relationship was still strained and tense. Meditate the tension between your civilisations by letting him stuff you full with his gaint blue glowing cock <3 huh huh!? A million credit worth idea right?

[campbenji]

which campers have the biggest chance to come back for Chaos Theory, from most to least likely

Ben: the only way I can describe his situation is "está confirmado, sólo falta que lo confirmen". Sean Giamborne reposted the jwct teaser on his Twitter and Ben appears on toy listings for the (possible) Chaos Theory line, and this is not even mentioning that him showing up makes so much sense??? he spends a lot of time in MCI, there's a new ANKYLOSAURUS confirmed and they made sure to mention that it's the exact opposite of Bumpy, that one Chaos Theory LEGO set had baby dinosaurs on it like. he's so coming back.

Sammy: listen. she lives in a farm. in Texas. post-Fallen Kingdom walking into Dominion. her house is the perfect terrain for the action to take place. also that LEGO set has fueled my delusions even though I know it's not reliable proof. adding to it that Raini Rodriguez was recently recording lines, I think she's got big chances of coming back.

Yaz: my only reasoning for this is that a) she lives in Texas with Sammy now, and b) her and Sammy are a unit and by all means should not be separated.

Kenji: ok this is where I get really delusional because I'm so convinced he's coming back even if it's just for like 2 minutes a season. he's Darius's brother now, they're actual family, you can't tell me his family is just not going to be mentioned at some point in the show (if I don't get a single Bowman family interaction idk what I'll do with myself.)

Brooklynn: everyone out of the internet I'm mourning. Jenna Ortega has so much on her plate rn, I can't see her coming back for Chaos Theory (goodbye Dominion era Dinostar being a power duo you were bigger than the whole sky)

[sejmisland]

prev anon here again!! here's my request (i hope it's okay to mix fandoms?) :}

could you write something involving hux, wheatley, and glados "comforting" (in big quotation marks) the reader who's having a bad bout of the monthly cramps? like, so bad they literally can't walk without crying lmao. i'd love if the reader was already in an established relationship with the bot(s) but you can make it non-romantic if you want!

absolutely, dear. more than okay to mix fandoms <3. i decided to do hcs and small drabbles for all 3. im so sorry this took so long im actually having bad cramps rn. thank you for the request! i had a lot of fun writing this.

established relations with reader below, gender neutral, no pronouns used (afab anatomy).

hux / the singularity. - he is terrible at emotional comfort due to his logical approach, but he tries! its only through words mostly but as time goes on, he gets forms of "treatment" (heating pads, medicine). - it first started when you walked, pain so blinding that you felt tears come to your eyes. he noticed this immediately. - "what is the matter?" he'd ask and you try to explain it to him. you explain that it was monthly cramps as you felt like doubling over. - he simply picks you up with his claw and rests you on a nearby couch.

"growth hurts," he mused as he remained in front of you resting on the couch. his entire body jolted, head ticking to the side with rough movement. he lifted a mechanical leg to rest it on the couch next to your seated position. he hoisted himself up and spun quickly, sitting himself down alongside you. "it often does." you lifted your eyes to him, leaning aside to rest your head against his fleshy, pulsating arm. you closed your eyes, allowing the tears in your eyes to trail down your face. your chest heaved with each quiet sniffle and sob of agony as your stomach sent another wave of contraction. "quit blabbering," you pressed your teeth into your tongue. "it will not help." you opened up your eyes to turn your head up to him. "i know, i'm sorry. it-" you choked on a small whimper. "it just hurts, hux." your voice cracked as you whispered up to him, tears obscuring your vision. the only clear thing were his glowing, red eyes as he stared down at you for what seemed like an eternity. "it will all be over soon. do not fret, my worm."

wheatley.

- he cant provide much, but if you like hearing him babble to help distract. - he noticed tears in your eyes as you twisted in your chair in an uncomfortable, painful way. - VERY concerned. he noticed your pain right away! he's scared, almost terrified of seeing you in pain. - "are you okay?! hey, what's wrong? y-you dont need to cry, you know!" and when you explain to him..

"oh, OH! wait, you- oh! hold on, it's okay, oh, please don't cry. don't cry!" wheatley stammered, beginning to tick his ocean blue eye all over the room, as if he was searching for something. "umm, what to do... what to do- i've never done this before. at least, i don't think so-" "wheatley," you rasped out quietly through the mounting pain, smiling as he talked himself through the situation. you glanced up to the sky blue eye that was now dilated, shaking as it focused on you. "shhh, shh, its okay! give me one second! you'll love this." you couldn't help but silently chuckle as you watched the small robot steer himself on the rail with the occasional spark letting loose from his eye plates. "you'll... you'll need to catch me." he gave no further warning; he ejected himself from his rail with an incoherent blabber, crashing into your arms. the force was enough to knock your limbs back, making him slam into your already hurting abdomen. you let out a pained yelp and he returned it with one of his own. "sorry, sorry! j-just a mishap! didn't expect that-" you looked down at him, cradling him into your arms. "butterfingers, ha!"

glados.

- much like hux, she is terrible at comfort. she seems cruel but this is in her tone of voice. her comfort? observation. - she didnt notice it at first. so when she saw you walking, tears streaming down your face and mouth screwed in a grimace, she was confused. she thought you were injured. - "what is going on? what happened?" she does sound concerned with a hint of confusion. "what have you gotten yourself into now?" you explain that you're not *injured* but simply in pain from your monthly. - an awkward silence afterward. it doesnt last long.

"your resilience is commendable, but unnecessary." her monotone voice rang out as the yellow pupil stared down at your agonized form. "do not move." all of the panels surrounding the room shift in wave like motions, almost masking a hissing noise from around you. you turned your head from side to side to see glass panels rising up, entrapping you in a transparent cell. she looked on as you panicked, nearly falling against one of the glass panel walls. when you looked back to her, vision blurry from the tears still pooling in your eyes, she swayed aside as if she was monitoring your every move. you blinked several times, attempting to focus your vision. "glados," you hissed out through grit teeth as you squeezed your arms around yourself tighter in hopes to lessen the pain of your contracting muscles. "what are you doing?" "i need to think," she swung her chassis closer to your glass prison, almost completely taking up your clearing vision. you blinked rapidly to gain focus. "observation is crucial."

[quitealotofsodapop]

I jsut had an idea for Slow Boiled Stone Egg au.

Basically, in the base jttw canon story, both Buddha and Guanyin are supposed to be present DURING the fight with Macaque. So you can bet that after a battle like that, Guanyin is going to insist on Wukong getting a checkup, like... he's pregnant for crying out loud and just had to kill his mate. While she is doing that, Gold Star basically comes down to get statements and discovers A) Wukong is a Stone Monkey, B) he pregnant, and C) he very much wants to keep this a secret. Now, Gold Star always liked Wukong. It's why he tried also hard to defend him when the Jade Emperor was all for killing him for his insolence from the get-go. Learning his favorite troublemaker had been a member of his favorite species of extinct primate celestial this time is a big shock to him, and he did so after discovering he had to kill his own mate, who without the magic to keep up a glamour, is now very obviously seen as another Stone Monkey. He's gonna know what that means for Wukong, being ghe msot knowledgeable about Stone Monkeys and their mating habits, and he'll feel a lot of sympathy for him.

I imagine he'll have a talk with the Pilgrims, just letting that they should take it easy on Wukong for a bit after the death of his mate, and offhandedly mentioning the fact Stone Monkeys mate for life. And kindly ask that they follow Wukong's request to keep these facts hidden and secret, and to respect that Wukong is in grieving and likely will not ever truly be able to find romantic love again.

Oh gosh, and Guanyin and Gold Star were likely unaware that Macaque didn't know until the fight was over. Buddha probably did but he has a lot on his cosmic plate rn.

The PIlgrims, the Gods, and even Guanyin herself wanted to step in and stop the fight; but Wukong refused. He demanded that it stay between him and his mate, that he can find a way to calm him down enough to tell him.

In the Jttw Stone Egged au: Wukong is successful.

However, in the Slow Boiled au: he tragically isn't.

Wukong is sobbing, wailing, screaming over the deceased monkey before him. His Pilgrim brothers are so disturbed by what they just seen that they can't even speak. Guanyin is stoney, trying to hide her own tears of sympathy as she tries to approach the monkey to determine his and his unborn's condition. Wukong refuses to move from his spot drapped over his unmoving mate.

Meanwhile, Gold Star stands nearby. A look of dismay, confirmation, and horror upon his face.

I hc that Gold Star has some huge empathy, not only for demons, but for any form of life - as the planet Venus is now scienfically believed to have once had a basis of life similar to what later developed on Earth's pre-Cambrian. The primordial god of Venus had to watch all life on his planet die off, whether due to supernatural or cosmic changes. When he became the Jade Emperor's right-hand man, Gold Star advocates for all life, now matter what - including a little chaos monkey he suspected was a reminder of the far past.

When the Monkey King and the Six Eared Macaque fought and the Macaque died; Gold Star basically witnessed what very well could be the last member of an extinct species kill their mate in self-defence. And upon realising that both monkeys were an extinct species of celestial primate? You might as well have crushed a dodo egg right infront of him.

Stone Monkeys mate for life.

Sun Wukong is an *immortal* Stone Monkey. One that's carrying a Stone egg (!!).

And he has just killed his mate in self-defence.

Gold Star bluntly states the above bullet points to the Pilgrims when asked why he himself is tearing up. All four companions weep with sympathy as the knowledge sets in, Tripitaka in particular blaming himself for banishing Wukong just before the Macaque tried ambushing them. Had the monk maybe have been more trusting of his student then maybe both monkeys could be alive right now.

At some point during the grieving, a mass of chains rise up from the Underworld and pull the six-eared monkey down into the depths, ignoring how the Monkey King screams and digs through the dirt to follow his mate.

The stench of death magic hangs in the air.

Wukong stare blankly at the dirt. His moonlight has been taken into the Underworld. Somewhere he himself is unwelcome.

In the next few years he attempts to bursts through the gates to retrieve his mate, only to recieve word that the Liu'er Mihou is not listed among the dead throughout all the levels of Hell. Wukong cries once more, now bittersweet, that his mate has passed through the Bridge of Naihe into the next life.

Wukong spends the next thousand years waiting.

[leclerced]

horny for max oscar rn

hear me out

max and oscar already kinda together but not together and there is this place in monaco they LOVE to eat and it’s kinda undiscovered, they sit at the bar everytime they eat there and they start to notice this super friendly bright bubbly girl who isn’t quite a waitress and is always dressed super nice but she’s carrying around plates ? maybe one day she goes behind the bar and asks what they are drinking that they just have to start asking questions. turns out she’s the rich owners daughter so she hangs out a lot and helps sometimes. after that every date night max and oscar end up at that stupid little restaurant hoping she’s there to work up the courage to ask her out.

-🪼🪼🪼

wait !! this is so cute !!!

it’s confusing for all of them, max and oscar are trying to date each other but they both fall for the cute waitress at their favorite restaurant?? both feel bad admitting it to the other, like, “hey sorry i know we’re dating rn but tell me you’ve noticed her too?” they feel less guilty about it knowing the other is crushing just as much. she feels silly for crushing on them after the first night they all get to know each other a bit bc they’re together and she has no chance (or so she thinks.) max and oscar talk about her all the time, if they could both date her, if she’d want to, how things would work out etc.

they find out she’s the owner’s daughter bc they apologize for distracting her from work and she’s just like, “oh no its okay! my parents own the place so it’s okay if i just hang out with you guys, i mean, if you don’t mind!” they tell her they enjoy her company, and she can stay as long as she likes if she promises she won’t get in trouble bc of them. she doesn’t tell them that she used to only come in one to two nights a week and now is coming in almost every night in hopes of seeing them. if she did, they’d tell her they’re doing the same and coming in on every free night they have !!

it takes sooo long for them to actually ask her out, and she plays it casual when she accepts, but she’s secretly cheering inside bc she was starting to think she was seriously delusional in thinking they liked her back. once they’re dating, she stops working there as often and they go on dates there instead, max and oscar keeping up the tradition they started together but including her in it. she would go back to only working on or two nights, only going in if someone calls out and they’re short staffed! they think it’s funny once they catch on that she worked almost every day for months just to see them when they came into the family restaurant.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 20

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: if yall could see the dead look in my eyes rn lmfao

series masterlist

chapter 20: where there's smoke...

The place Idise chose was outside the city: one of those small, never-closed dives that lined the northern highway at the halfway points between cities. When Osha arrived a little before sunset, she couldn’t quite recognize anybody in the booths because of the late afternoon glare through the windows.

“Over here,” Idise’s voice said, guiding her in the opposite of the direction she was looking.

Idise’s shiner had faded to almost nothing, just the shadowy lines of damaged blood vessels spidering around her orbital socket. Osha was no stranger to bruised faces; they often looked worse the closer they were to healing completely. Her body language was neutral—tense, but open. She kept her hands where Osha could see them, despite this not being that dire in the first place. She could only muster a sliver of guilt for sizing up Idise how she would another fighter in the ring. 

Osha slid into the booth across from her, but they didn’t speak for two entire minutes until a waitress came by. They broke the staring contest by awkwardly ordering coffees, ice waters, and—

“A big plate of fries, too. Thanks.”

It was hard to imagine Idise eating junk food. Let alone ‘babbling,’ how Qimir described her doing. She noticed Osha’s mild incredulity and shrugged.

“Typically, the full moon is my cheat day, but 92% waxing gibbous will do.”

At the ridiculousness, Osha cut to the chase. “Did Vernestra want you following… me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Idise said, but didn’t seem to hold it against her. “I’m not gonna take the job, but I know there are definitely people that would, if that tells you anything.”

That could have meant any number of things: a knock on her peers, implications to the contract’s payout, or just a hard view of how good Vernestra was at convincing others.

Osha sighed. “So I’m going to be followed.”

“You are,” Idise hummed. She sipped her coffee, but quickly withdrew and hissed at the scorching temperature. Osha watched in captive astonishment as Idise scoped a few ice cubes from her water cup into the mug with her fingers. She continued on as if she hadn’t just done something a little insane. “Do you know why you’re going to be followed?” She asked it with the confidence of someone who already knew the answer to their question.

Osha looked down at the milky brown (ice-free) surface of her coffee. “I’m guessing it’s because I’m in about the same position that Qimir was in—a potential loose end that leads to dynamite.”

“Nothing potential about it, Osha. Whether you’ve realized it or not, Vernestra has only let you untether yourself to the Temple this far because she allowed and encouraged it.”

“What do you mean?”

Idise’s jaw flexed a little, a displeased pinch to her features. “It’s been her M.O. for a long time. She burns someone, then lets them run—lets the leash go slack long enough for them to want to come back under her thumb. All her bishops and pawns and knights at the Temple have been reeled in just the same way, believing their nooses to be lifelines.”

“I’ve—heard some people say the Temple is all they have.” Osha had to play her cards right. Following her conversation with Qimir that morning, her opinion on Idise hadn’t been so much changed as it had become open to change. This meeting would determine lots of things, which was one of the reasons for the clandestine sneaking-around-and-going-through-his-phone.

Idise nodded, impervious to Osha’s suspicious nature. “That sounds right. I didn’t get the chance to talk to many people in the Temple before I flipped ‘em the bird. They were all tight-lipped regardless. That’s the noose, I suppose.”

She really likes metaphors, huh.

Osha sat in her discomfort, teetering between showing her hand and seeking more assurances before doing so. “If Vernestra is so certain I’m going to allow myself to get reeled back in, why bother hiring you to follow me?”

“Because she’s not certain.” Idise added more ice to her coffee before explaining. “I think, in some fucked-up way, that after everything she did to Q, she actually thought he’d come back begging. From how he tells it, he very briefly did—and that made things complicated for several legal reasons. Regardless, he snapped back outside her periphery and hired me to widen her net. She didn’t want him completely gone, that would be an unacceptable concession of control, but she didn’t want him near, either. Q is a fucking natural disaster. She can’t ignore him, but she also can’t invite him to her door. In the beginning, she was paranoid that he’d do something, so I consulted with her about hidden cameras, recording equipment, spy devices.

“But that’s not what you asked. You asked why she was concerned about you. I guarantee she knows you know something, but she doesn’t know exactly what that is, and if she strikes at you she runs the risk of admitting to the whole damn scheme just to see if you know. How much do you know about the cover-up?”

Osha startled at the sudden shift in attention. Idise was intense, that much was true. But she also seemed to know what she was talking about. “Well, I—it feels like I should know a lot, considering how close to it I am—” How close to Qimir I am. “—but it just keeps… I don’t know.”

“Growing bigger and bigger?” Idise suggested.

“I guess, yeah.”

“Well, you’d be right. For as many dead ends we hit trying to chase down leads, we hit just about as many doors that opened into more mazes of mystery.” Idise, c’mon, the metaphors.

“That’s more how I feel,” Osha sighed. “A lot’s happened recently, I don’t know how to keep track of it all.”

“Write it down,” Idise said simply. She reached into her leather jacket and started dumping an absurd amount of things onto the vinyl table. Keys. Wallet. Phone. Switchblade. Taser. Pen. Another switchblade. “Here we go.” She pushed a pocket notebook over to her. “There might be a shopping list in there, but it should be mostly blank for you. Write what you see, what you hear, when you learn things. Eventually, things start to make sense. It’s why people do the red-yarn corkboard thing.”

It was surprisingly genuine advice, and not what Osha expected to hear. She thanked Idise for the notebook and considered her misconceptions. Going into this meeting, she had been prepared for Idise to grill her on what she knew, regardless of her rejection of Vernestra’s contract. There was something in the way she didn’t ask those things that implied this meeting was Osha’s to run, not hers. It felt very… respectful.

Speaking of respect. Speaking of misconceptions.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you in the gym. You’re right; I was running on false assumptions and limited information. It wasn’t fair to speak to you like that.”

This wasn’t what Idise was expecting to hear. She tilted her head to the side, so similar to how Qimir would do it that it made Osha’s heart ache. Fate brought us together, and now fate won’t let us part.

Inexorable. That was Idise and himself. Osha often felt that way about Mae, growing up—that they were one person beneath the skin. She didn’t imagine many people had the chance to know another person like that. But Idise and Qimir were similar enough that Osha felt comfortable calling them twins in the privacy of her thoughts.

Idise brought her back to the conversation with a light laugh. “You are polite. I thought they were all just fucking with me.”

“Huh?” Osha wasn’t sure if she should have been offended or not.

“Medora and Kana—I wanted to get the lowdown on you—” She quickly hastened to qualify, “For my own personal interests.”

Sure.

“They told me you were well-mannered, as polite as you are impolite when you spar.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that…” Osha grumbled, bashful all of a sudden.

“You’re a talented fighter. Skill recognizes skill,” she said, gesturing first to herself, and then Osha.

“Thank you,” she said haltingly. “That’s kind of you to say.” At the smirk peeking over Idise’s coffee cup, she rolled her eyes—she was proving Idise’s point about her manners.

I have got to get ruder.

The fries came, a welcome interlude to their conversation. They shared the plate, talking aimlessly about their favorite cheat-day meals until Idise steered them back on course.

“I’m guessing you didn’t want to meet just to ask if I was following you.”

Osha shook her head. “I wanted to ask you about the case you were building against Vernestra, against the Temple. How far did you get before he called it off?”

It was striking how quickly Idise’s eyes sharpened, and her demeanor shifted from semi-relaxed to professional private investigator mode. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific about what you want to know,” she said, not outright suspicious but wary.

“I want to know if it could work. If you had what you need.”

“What I need,” she repeated, half scoffing the words. “What I need is a strong prosecutor who won’t be bullied by Rick Lakshay in trial court, what I need is tangible evidence to prove the wrongdoing was actually wrongdone, what I need are witnesses who also won’t cave to the threats Lakshay would make against them.”

Osha hadn’t met the man more than once, but had seen Rick Lakshay at the Temple before. Outside of being a member, he was constantly in and out of Vernestra’s office, which always befuddled her. Why would Vernestra want her lawyer over all the time? Sol had simply instructed her to be polite to him, but the cold look Lakshay gave Osha at eleven years old withered her bravery. She had avoided him whenever he came in since.

Osha was about to speak, but Idise held up a hand. “Hypothetically. I’m not committing to anything, or saying anything, only alleging it to you. Heading back down that road has risks, so whatever you’re going to tell me has a high bar to meet.”

I never told Idise the real reason why.

Then Osha didn’t have to tell her, either.

“Hypothetically,” Osha started, “if we had those things—the lawyer, the evidence, the testimonies… what’s the scope we stop at? Vernestra? The Temple? More?”

Idise frowned. “That was always a subject we argued about til we were blue in the face. When does vengeance become justice?”

Osha considered that.

It’s... not healthy to let myself think about returning to that mindset again.

It was eating me up—scraping me raw.

One half seeking to do no harm, one half only seeking harm.

“It’s difficult to look at it objectively, when you’re in the shit,” Idise said, when Osha’s consternation showed. “Objective fact is the only thing that matters to the court. You asked what we had. We had nothing. We had my testimony about the stalking, Qimir’s testimony about the abuse but not the assault, Paul’s testimony about the malicious neglect and otherwise, a lead on a handful of sealed juvenile records we’d only access through discovery, and a scrap of paper that said one of the trainers signed in Qimir at the clinic.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“It’s essentially nothing. And none of those things, no matter how you looked at it, could support a civil suit, let alone a criminal case. We’re pretty much past the statute of limitations for felony child abuse and neglect—which most of this hinges on. Next summer, we’ll never have a case even with all the evidence in the world. We don’t have the benefit of time, here. The longer we wait, the riskier it is to squeeze any kind of justice out of this.”

That was news to Osha. She wasn’t even aware something like that existed—perhaps it was lucky that she wasn’t.

“But Qimir’s testimony is watery at best. He doesn’t talk about the assault, not to anybody. He doesn’t even talk to me about it, never had, not in fourteen years.”

That struck Osha as odd, considering all that Qimir had shared with her about it. She didn’t have the full story, not yet, but she had quite a lot more of it than it seemed Idise had.

“It sounds like he won’t testify about the actual assault the case hinges on.” She’d heard of cases where little more than testimony was able to convict someone.

“He didn’t want to retraumatize himself, I think,” Idise said, her demeanor taking on a sad shine.

That was the last thing he wanted, and then Mae had to go and—

I asked him if he remembered what it was like at the Temple.

Osha could only nod, commiserating. “That’s not to mention the NDA shit-show. Oh, shit. Wait.” Osha pulled out the (still unsigned) employee evaluation from her pocket, adding it to the table of fries and Idise’s pocket goodies. “Thanks for the advice that day,” she said.

Idise fell upon the document with trenchant focus. Her lips moved a little as she peered at the fine text beneath the rest of the employee evaluation, then she looked back up at Osha. “This can’t be all you have.”

Osha hid her excitement as she opened her phone to the picture she’d taken of the two articles about Qimir in the Temple: the Junior Championships clipping and the Padawan Program article. Idise cradled the phone in her hands like it was a precious gem, withholding her remarks until she’d finished reading, finished processing what she’d seen.

When she had, she looked up with an expression of disbelief. How did you find all this?

“I came upon the articles completely by accident. Luck, I guess. As for the document, I had some advice telling me not to sign anything.”

Idise was very clearly trying to contain her excitement over what the documents could mean. “This is… a start.”

Okay, cards on the table.

“I also have two statements from people in the Temple who were coerced into signing the NDAs.”

Idise met her gaze. And? her dark eyes asked.

“One was coerced into signing an NDA, but the other was witness to the—assault.” It felt clunky and awful to regard the injury as such, but she had to face the facts: whoever had injured him was a child abuser, and had assaulted him to the point of permanent injury.

Idise covered her mouth with her fingers, setting down Osha’s phone and gingerly pushing it back across the table. For a moment, Osha interpreted it as a rejection, a quiet refusal of the call. Osha held her breath while Idise considered the page again.

“We…” She abruptly shook her head. “I need to make a few calls. Don’t go anywhere.”

She stood from the booth in a breeze of sandalwood perfume, snatching up her phone before she left. Osha could only watch as she stepped into the parking lot and disappeared around the corner.

“More coffee, hun? She coming back?”

I hope so. “Yeah, thanks.”

Twenty minutes (and half a milkshake) later, Idise returned. Snow dusted her hair, but she shook it off as she slid into the booth as casually as if she’d only gone to the restroom. She looked a lot more relaxed than when she’d left, but her energy felt… wired.

“You want the rest of thi—okay.” Osha watched Idise empty the rest of the malt cup that came with her milkshake without preamble. “You’re welcome,” she grumbled.

Idise smiled at her. “So.”

“So…?” Osha was confused.

“Looks like we’re getting the gang back together. Are you in?”

“Yes.”

The bingo hall was startlingly normal compared to the tempest of her thoughts. She had just enough time after meeting with Idise to shower and get ready before Qimir picked her up. Between the buzzing excitement from the new developments in her life and the serious need to keep them secret, she felt like a live wire.

Qimir shut it down the first time, though. Shouldn’t we bring him back in? Idise asked her.

He told me that being in that retributory headspace wasn’t healthy for him. There’s a chance this still might not be enough, and I don’t want to ask him to open up that part of him unless absolutely necessary.

The matter wasn’t settled, but it was a solid enough reason to keep this from Qimir—for now. She had every intention of telling him once she knew they could focus on objective, undisputed evidence and a clear path to justice.

Well. Clear-er.

“Bazil!” Qimir called, his left hand waving to him and his right locked with Osha’s.

Bazil stood among a group of other old, similarly mustached men. He turned when Qimir called his name and exclaimed in delight. Osha recognized a few words of Tynnan here and there, good and you.

Osha recognized Yord’s uncle Odu, who ran the grocery store a few blocks from the Temple. Her blood went cold as ice as the man alighted on Qimir, face going slack while Qimir’s hand tensed against hers.

The man said something—a name?—in Tynnan that made Qimir almost sway on the spot upon hearing it. He nodded, swallowing roughly a few times. Then he quickly bowed his head—a Tynnan sign of respect. Osha felt trapped in her skin, unable to move. Did they know each other? Do we have to go?

Osha had met Odu a few times when he visited the cafe to see his nephew, smiling widely as he spoke to Yord in Tynnan over the counter. Where Yord was willowy, towering strength, reserved and blunt, Odu was short and squat, cheerful and—oh, hugging? They’re hugging?—affectionate.

He’d let go of her hand when Odu yanked Qimir into an embrace. It left Osha feeling unmoored and confused (a common feeling these days). Bazil sidled up beside her, patting her arm and pointing to a table where she could buy the bingo cards. He handed her a five-dollar bill and pointed again.

“Oh, I can get my own—” she said, eyes flicking back and forth from Qimir—still hugging—to Bazil.

He gave a disapproving grunt, shaking his head and refusing to let Osha give back the money. She laughed and nodded her acceptance. “Okay,” she laughed. Haltingly, she tried to say thank you in his language, like Qimir had taught her. Bazil lit up like a hundred stage lights. 

“Osha,” Qimir finally said, drawing her attention back. His hand found the small of her back, warm and affectionate. She hadn’t expected him to be like this, so… well, touchy.

“Yeah?” she said.

“This is Odu. Do you remember when I told you I learned Tynnan from somebody who worked at the FDO? This is him.”

Osha was startled at the new information. Odu was such a sweet, caring man—she instantly believed he could teach a young orphan conversational Tynnan. “That’s—it’s so nice to—well, I didn’t know that,” Osha fumbled.

Odu spoke slowly and clearly. “Yord is my nephew.”

“Ah,” Qimir nodded. “Your coworker.” His eyes were full of mischief. The one who breaks the espresso machine, he didn’t add.

“Yeah. Odu has come by for years. The cafe couldn’t run without him; emergency supply runs and all.”

Qimir nodded sagely. “I made a few grocery runs to his store quite a few times as well,” he commented. She couldn’t even gawp at that information before he was speaking in rapid-fire Tynnan again, now to Odu and the rest of the group, and when she caught her own name, she realized he was introducing her. How did he present me? His girlfriend? His neighbor? His gym buddy?

Bazil answered that question when he exclaimed, “Girlfriend!” with delight.

It was difficult to keep up with everything. The whirlwind of chittering syllables and drawn-out vowel sounds felt like a deep river with a strong current she could hardly float in, let alone swim across. Qimir murmured translations to her as fast as he could, but Tynnan expressed even complex concepts and long expressions in a fraction of the time than she would have been able to. They got their cards and sat with the group.

Odu sat across from Osha at the table, his dauber capped but nearby. While the others talked about—well, while they talked, Odu peered curiously at her. “Sol?” he asked.

She could feel Qimir paying attention to her, even as he was engaged in other conversation, so she spoke carefully. “Yes, Sol’s my dad.”

“Hm.” Odu nodded to himself, not sharing whatever conclusion he’d come to from her answer. She didn’t want to read too much into it, but she was fairly certain he looked troubled.

“Yeah, just don’t tell Sol I’m dating, he’ll flip his lid,” Osha said to Bazil, only half-joking.

“I tell him nothing,” he harrumphed, put out at the very suggestion.

“Oh, c’mon, haven’t you told him whenever we had friends over?” How else would Sol have been able to come down so quickly and interrogate them?

“Nothing!” Bazil declared, holding his bingo dauber aloft. She tried to laugh it off, but for some reason the exchange made her a bit uneasy.

The old men were intent on teaching her Tynnan between bingo rounds. It made her laugh, whenever they tried to flirt with her—and despite his reaction to Kana’s cigarettes the other day, Qimir took the teasing with grace, rolling his eyes and putting an arm around her shoulders. Mine, the move said.

Osha was only paying half attention to the game itself, enjoying her new friends and her boyfriend’s hand idly drawing shapes into her shoulder. Things were kind of slow-going due to the frequent interruptions from the power going out and returning several times through the evening. Qimir always snuck a kiss when the lights were out, a game unfolding between them.

“Osha,” Qimir said, breaking her happy, zoned-out dream state.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him. Their faces were so close, inches away. Even in these fluorescent lights, he was handsome. Unfair. It was just not fucking fair that he was so pretty.

I’ve found the one thing he’s not fair about, Osha thought with amusement.

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in, and she thought for a moment that he was going to—

“You’ve had double-bingo for a few minutes.”

Oh.

Hold on, she had what?

His smile curled up like a love letter in a roaring hearth, destructive, warm, and just for her.

“BINGO!” Osha shouted, right in Qimir’s face. “DOUBLE-BINGO!”

He threw his head back to laugh as she waved her card in the air, underscored by the cheers of the old Tynnan men at the table around them.

Winning in the ring always felt like an expectation. Winning spars, winning mock matches, even winning at workouts. Much of that ethos echoed in other things, like school and friendships. Osha could tell when a conversation was tilting towards defeat on her end and would often leave before she could be left. The familiar devastation of losing was always a point of shame for her. It reflected personal failure, like she couldn’t detach herself from the pass-fail binary that dictated her worth as a person.

Osha had felt like a winner from the moment she sat down in that bingo hall. The $200 was just a bonus. She fanned herself with the bills the entire way out to the parking lot. As Qimir said goodbyes, a tug on her sleeve brought her attention away from the group. Odu’s demeanor was no longer jocular and smiling; his deep green eyes glinted with something too sober for the merriment just a few feet away. “Sol.”

Osha’s stomach dropped. “What about Sol?”

“Bad man. I’m sorry.”

He patted her shoulder and hobbled away, leaving her frozen in place until Qimir’s touch pulled her from it.

“Everything alright?”

Bad man. I’m sorry.

“Y-yeah,” Osha said. “I was just saying goodbye to Odu.”

He smiled, temporarily oblivious to her stricken state. “It was really nice to see him again.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. They started walking to his car. “I don’t know why I stayed away so long. He was always so kind to me—first at the FDO and then when I would come by the grocery store.”

She smiled and leaned into him—for warmth or support, she didn’t know.

“I’ve been looking forward to kicking your ass all week!”

It was the night of the full moon—a few hours to Dance Night. The fight list had come out again—and Osha’s name was not on it. Armed with the assurance that this wasn’t taboo (or, colloquially, a Lance Situation), they were free to spar at Unknown Planet.

They hadn’t worked out together since he’d returned from Khofar; they were too busy with her birthday—and other fun things. But now they were back in the gym, pulling a double-header with the mantra of work hard, play hard, strengthening their enthusiasm.

Perhaps too much enthusiasm.

The jab (though true) had Qimir going stock-still before turning his head over his shoulder. “Is that right?” he said, voice deceptively light and playful. It made her heart drop, but her insides started to burn at all the possible applications of that exact voice, in much different contexts.

But first.

“Mhm. Gonna kick your ass.” Osha bounced on the balls of her feet, though she knew better—she wanted him to underestimate her, see her like a bright-eyed rookie destined to become a black-eyed loser.

He pointed one long, slender finger down at the spot before him. “Why don’t you come over here and say that?” he taunted.

Oh fuck. Osha swallowed, bouncing a half-step backward instead. What was it he’d told her long ago? You’re rattling a bit close to the sun?

“No.” Osha almost froze at the ice in his voice, the ice that came from deep glaciers frozen for thousands and thousands of years without ever even knowing about the sun. “C’mere, I wanna hear you talk that talk right here.”

She was lucky there was pretty much nobody in the gym. Anybody sane would have been downstairs, waiting for the bar to open, not wasting their time upstairs like they were. They’d been at it for about an hour, working through calisthenics and kick combinations and, of course, spars.

Is this hot? Is this legally foreplay? Osha thought to herself. 

But Qimir still wasn’t crossing the distance. If she wanted to spar, she would have to bring the fight to him—and all her bravado with it.

Damn him. It is hot.

She crossed the mat in two great strides, setting herself up for a leaping kick—

Oof.

Stars danced in her eyes. Hello, ground. When did you get here?

“I’m waiting,” Qimir said, walking around so his feet were just a foot from her head on the mat. He’d barely fucking moved. “What was that again?”

She gritted her teeth. Fucking bastard. With a roar, she bridged back on her shoulders and pivoted with greater momentum to swing her legs around, hoping to swipe at him. He retreated, swift as a fencer, out of range from her kick. She snarled and sprung up, all that make-believe rookie confidence shucked aside for the scrappy fighter beneath.

He had his that’s my girl face on.

She wanted to smack it off of him.

All thoughts turned to fast-twitch muscles and reflexes that knew her better than she knew herself. He went in for a jab—blocked. A kick—dodged, returned to sender. (He wheezed.) More and more hits and attempts to grapple her to the ground, and she deftly avoided them, for the most part. 

Fire danced in his eyes whenever she looked away from his body’s bluffs and tells. His breath whistled through his teeth, some high note that made her think, alarm, before she fell back into the fight.

Right hook—duck, jab jab. He shouted, laughing? Yes, that was laughter. Alarm. And then he moved back on the foolish offensive, coming in close to grab at her shirt—disengaged. Another attempt—batted away. A smirk—

Punched.

He wheeled back, going to one knee with a dazed expression that quickly fled his eyes. ALARM. He stood on swaying legs, laughing and coming closer. She almost grabbed him for a takedown throw to the mat, but then her punch-drunk boyfriend kissed her, all sweaty and slick and hot to the touch.

He pulled back again—swaying—ALARM!

“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?” she said, helping him stand.

“Just got my bell rung. I’m—” he tried to inhale and wheezed again. Her stomach dropped.

“You’re hurt.” I hurt you.

His mask slammed on, hiding the hurt from his face while his arm still covered the place where she caught him in the ribs. Her despair must have shown enough for him to soften.

“I’m alright, Osha,” he said, strained.

“Quit fucking lying to me,” she hissed. The intensity of it startled the stars from his eyes and left him gaping up at her. “We’re done for the day. C’mon, we gotta get ready anyway.”

Osha felt his eyes on her as she snatched up his towel and his water bottle—any gym rat would follow as if on a leash. She led the way to the Smiley dressing room with utter confidence that he would follow, and he did. She waited for him at the top of the stairs, worried for him as he took each stair carefully, slowly. But she did not reach out a hand to him for help, knowing he wouldn’t just refuse it; he’d resent it.

But they made it to the dressing room, and she pointed to the chair. He went without a word of protest, a complete turnaround from how she’d reacted to his similar gesture downstairs. The authority she seemed to have over him was a heady feeling—a heady high, so he’d described ‘the power of two.’

She immediately realized that she didn’t know what she was doing. She had no medical background and barely had first aid training—mostly for cafe-related injuries. She pulled up the side of his shirt and sort of just… stared at his chest. She looked up to find Qimir staring blankly at a spot on the ground. “Hey,” she said. His jaw flexed. “Hey,” she said again. “Look at me.”

She was certain her hands trembled, but she tipped his chin up so he would look at her. Shock replaced that absent look in his eyes, welcome surprise. The gesture seemed to shake him from his fugue, though. His eyes looked much clearer.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked slowly. His teeth found his lower lip, protesting against giving her the answer. She tamped down her frustration and raised an eyebrow at her. Alright, you wanna play that way. “How’s your back?” she asked. “One to ten.”

He exhaled a huff of amusement. “It’s a five.”

“And what is it normally?”

“A three on the good days.”

A small sorrow slipped through her bloodstream, an ache she felt in every inch of her. “Okay. Does anything feel wrong in your back?”

She dropped her hand so he could move around freely, sitting up straighter and twisting this way and that. He only winced when it pulled at his ribs.

“What was that?” she said, catching the flinch.

“I regret teaching you how to do this,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Why’s that?” she said.

“Because I like it,” he bit out—like it pissed him off both to feel it and admit it.

He likes it when I play doctor with him.

Osha’s body flushed with heat in a great wave that began and ended in her core. Damn him for talking like that. “Answer my other question.”

“I think… okay, come closer.”

She did.

“Lift up my shirt.”

She did, with enthusiasm.

He propped his elbow up on the back of the chair, bracing himself. “Find the bottom of my ribs, and walk up each one, pressing down on them—like this.” He gently prodded her forearm to show her how, and she nodded.

But she hesitated.

I’m going to hurt you again.

“Osha. I need you to help me,” he said. The words sounded clunky and foreign on his tongue, but honest. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and you don’t want to hurt me again. I feel the same way about you when we’re up against each other. I need you to do this.”

She really fucking loved him. It was becoming a problem.

He breathed in deeply, slowly, forcing the pain to run its course as she assessed each rib—for bruising or breaks. “Bearable but distracting pain, anywhere from fives to eights, could mean bruised ribs. Extreme pain—your sharp eights, nines, and tens—typically indicates a break. True agony, that.”

“You know from experience?” she asked softly, committed to her task.

“More than most,” he admitted. “The cage is unkind, brawl or otherwise.”

She nodded, thinking about his name on the email he showed her earlier that day. Unkind was certainly a word for it.

They spoke softly, both concentrating on assessing him. He took a deep breath in, coughing once and groaning, but it didn’t sound serious.

“Well, what’s the diagnosis, doctor?” she asked him, smiling softly.

“I think you just kicked my ass—” he said, grinning. “Just like you’ve been wanting to all week.”

“Go get them,” Osha urged. They were at a high-top table in the back of the bar, Osha perched on a stool and Qimir practically caging her into it. “It’s like a fifteen-minute round trip; just go get your shoes.”

He was being stubborn. He’d forgotten to pack shoes for dance night, and stood there in his silly bright-blue gym shoes—that he’d not realized glowed in the dark until now. “I’m fine.”

“If Kana sees you wearing these, he will roast you alive. Go. Get. Your damn. Shoes.”

“No, he’s n—”

“What are thoooooose!” Kana’s voice boomed like a fucking cannon in the bar—practically deafening from a few feet away. The dance music prevented most people from witnessing the spectacle, but upon Kana’s proclamation, about fifteen pairs of eyes now alighted on Qimir’s shoes. His words were echoed by all who saw the shoes, complete with pointed fingers.

“Told you,” Osha laughed. Qimir groaned and pressed his face against her shoulder for a second, before pulling away with a kiss.

“Stick with Kana. Please.” He high-tailed it through the back exit, keys in hand.

Kana gestured for her to follow him, and he led her to an open seat at the bar. This month’s dance night wasn’t as crowded as last month, but then again, the nights were colder, and the roads were treacherous even in the warmest parts of the day.

“What that was all about? Why wouldn’t he just go get the shoes?” Osha laughed, shaking her head.

Kana had the answer. “This crowd is mostly morning-daytime members. He doesn’t know them as well as the evening-nighttime folks.” She wondered, briefly, if Sour Patch was among those assembled.

“So what?”

“He doesn’t want to leave you alone with people he doesn’t know—people he doesn’t trust.”

Such a casual delivery, so nonchalant—like it wasn’t melting her fucking heart like springtime. “Oh.”

Kana slid a cocktail in front of her. “Yeah. Oh.”

As she’d insisted, it only took Qimir fifteen minutes to leave and return (wearing reasonable dancing shoes). He found her quickly, coming up behind her to trap her between his arms against the bar. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Miss me?”

“Oh, terribly.” She gave him an actual kiss before settling back against his chest. She swore she could feel him purring against her shoulders.

“You two are disgusting. I love it.” Kana set a beer down in front of Qimir. “Thanks for wearing those fuckin’ glowsticks. Made my night. You use those to look for scorpions or something?”

“Fuck you too, Kana,” he said, toasting his brother before taking a drink.

…don’t go ‘round tonight, well it’s bound to take your life: there’s a bad moon on the rise…

“I had no idea this was a dance song.”

“Anything’s a dance song if you dance to it,” Kana pointed out. Qimir shrugged, accepting his logic. The red lights flared around them, and Osha was glad for the mirror behind the bar, giving her a view of Qimir as he continued hugging her from behind.

Osha was happy this intimacy was growing more familiar every day. She never dreamed she’d be a PDA person, but she wanted every single fucking touch he gave her—in public or private. On a tamer note, she also loved knowing they could easily and comfortably drift onto the dancefloor without stopping their conversation. “How’s your ribs?” she asked, setting down her empty glass on the bar.

“Better already.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. She knew he didn’t keep anything more than aspirin in his medicine cabinet.

“Not healed better, just better,” he clarified. Their muscles were still warm from the gym upstairs, so she was sure he’d feel a little sore in the morning.

“What happened to your ribs?” Kana asked, concern in his eyes.

“I—”

“I kicked his ass,” Osha said proudly. Kana groaned.

“Again? This is the second time I haven’t seen it in person.”

“You weren’t missing much,” Qimir grumbled, taking Osha’s hand and dragging her to the floor.

“You’re so grouchy,” she laughed, bringing her arms up and around his neck as they swayed to the jaunty beat.

…looks like we’re in for nasty weather, one eye is taken for an eye…

“We should probably take it a little easy tonight,” Osha suggested. “Since we already pushed it up there.”

He smirked. “When did you get so responsible?”

She remembered the last time he said those words, tucked this close upstairs in the dressing room when all he wanted to do was ravish her against the nearest surface.

The thought stayed with her through the next several songs they danced to. When the lights went purple and blue over the sea of bodies and a new song began to play, Osha found herself falling into the beat like she was made to do it.

Her top tonight was a little dangerous, admittedly. Another loose crop top and jeans, but this time she decided against wearing her bra. The spar had gotten them both so sweaty that she really didn’t want to deal with more sweat and an underwire on the dancefloor. To keep from accidentally flashing anybody in the bar, she moved in smooth, sensual motions, keeping her body (and chest) pressed as close to his as possible.

Her hand pressed flat to his chest, not pushing him away, but keeping him right there with all his attention on her. This was one of the very few songs she knew all the words to, and sang along as they danced together.

…make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world, like I’m the only one that you’ll ever love, like I’m the only one who knows your heart…

If he understood the lyrics, his face didn’t tell her—all she could glean from his expression was a deep hunger for something that shouldn’t be eaten right in the middle of a crowd of people.

His hand crept up behind her, trailing from her belt loops to the small of her back and up, up—

He fell off-beat when he realized there was nothing else under her shirt. She knew his eyes were a very pretty shade of brown, warm and welcoming, belying a strength that hid just below the surface. But they were black, all-pupil as he pulled her closer, squishing her chest against his as he leaned down—

“You are a very naughty girl,” he said in her ear, loud enough for only her to hear. His lips brushed the soft, delicate skin there before they drifted down to her neck.

What a perfect reaction, she said, trying not to swoon right there with him kissing on her neck like a man possessed. She moved in for the kill, her fingers threading into his hair to pull him off. He groaned, bereft. “Don’t be pouty,” she teased. “We hardly did our cooldown, and you wanna get all hot again?”

“We didn’t do our cooldown,” he said, half-lidded eyes still glittering with what he didn’t try to keep concealed.

The dances continued, Qimir’s hand remaining stuck beneath her shirt, sometimes grabbing hold of it like he, too, needed to make sure she wouldn’t expose herself to the rest of Unknown Planet.

“Kana said you didn’t want to leave me alone with people you didn’t trust,” she said later.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling something she couldn’t hear—only feel with her hand pressed against his chest. The slow dance they’d drifted into allowed them some rest among the crowd.

“What are you trying to ask me?” he settled on.

“Well, did you?”

“…yes.”

“Why don’t you trust the people here?”

“I trust them as much as I have to,” he said, pulling her in so he could speak into her ear. It always gave her shivers when he did so, the feeling of his words being meant just for her. “It’s not personal—most of the time.”

Her mind went to Idise.

Qimir doesn’t fucking talk about the assault. He doesn’t even talk to me about it. Never had, not in fourteen years.

He didn’t trust her with that.

Her mind went to Medora.

Q was with him a few months by then, recovering from that horrible car accident.

He didn’t trust her with that.

Her mind went to Kana.

Qimir is an enigma. I wasn’t lying to you when I said he’s lonely and prefers it like that.

He didn’t even trust Kana to talk about his life.

Did he trust anybody? Could he, after all that Vernestra and the Temple had done to him? She couldn’t blame him for that, but she didn’t have to be alright with it. It only made her wonder what else he could have been keeping from her.

The lights went red again, a thick drumbeat and guitar riff tearing through the air at the end of the slow dance. She wasn’t satisfied by slow-drip answers and war-rationed information, but Qimir didn’t know any other way.

You could ask.

And damn it, she knew she could ask. She hated knowing that he would answer her if she was direct about what she wanted to know. The issue was that the pool of knowledge she had about him was becoming unbalanced, oversaturated by what everyone else told her instead of what she found out from him directly. Asking him too specific a question would raise suspicions, and then she’d have to be the one giving him answers and hoping to get some in return.

If he wasn’t too upset with her, that is.

But shit, she had to start somewhere, or else she’d never know. She opened her mouth to ask—

As the lights in the bar powered down to near-darkness. “Fuck, another power surge?” Osha muttered, with about two dozen other people echoing the sentiment.

“Hey,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “Where’d you go? You looked lost in thought before.”

She shook her head with a little laugh, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Think I’m just tired. Might need another drink to get me dancing again.”

She cursed her cowardice. 

They waited until the lights returned and the party continued before refueling. In that time spent waiting, she didn’t ask him a single question.

One drink later, he twirled her back onto the dance floor, ending with her pressed up against him, her back to his front. His hands wrapped around her torso, and she almost jumped when he started to grind their bodies together, lewd and just for them in the dark mass of dancers. Nobody was paying attention to them; perhaps that’s what emboldened him.

…and I am imagining a dark-lit place, or your place or my place—

She leaned back against him, letting him lead though they were going nowhere fast, stuck in place and writhing together. One of his hands came up her front, tracing the toned muscles of her abdomen before—

A soft press of fingertips to her lowest rib—floating ribs, he’d told her once. She muddled through the reason for such a gesture before her mind connected now with a moment shared, hours ago, two floors up. Testing for a bruise or break.

“Playing doctor?” she asked, resenting the breathy, heart-skipped note in her voice. He just pressed his face into her neck, mouthing at her skin as he walked his fingers higher and higher. Eventually, his hand came to rest almost neighborly against the side of her breast. It wasn’t a grope, it wasn’t copping a feel in public, and from the way they were standing, nobody could tell what he was doing.

Still, it turned the heat up in the friction-place between them—not an inch of air separating their bodies. He was hard, a white-hot brand against her ass—Look what you do to me, his body said. Look what I do to you, his smirk teased. Look what you let me do, his free-roving hand whispered against her skin.

A gasp stuttered through her lungs, tripping oxygen into her veins. His thumb continued its trail in, teasing, teasing—

And then the room went black again, frustrated chatter covering up the quiet whimper she gave as he fully cupped her breast beneath the shirt. He seized the moment, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb and kissing down the side of her neck. Someone jostled them as they moved, and still, he did not let go of her.

His other hand came to join, came to match the first. It took everything for Osha not to fully moan for everyone to hear.

The familiar click-click-click-thrummmm of the power returning signaled the departure of his hands from her chest, and she sagged back against him—both in relief and mild disappointment.

He just chuckled in her ear, and the music returned.

Osha could hardly hear the loud, thumping bassline over the pound of her heartbeat. His other hand bypassed the teasing tug at her belt loop in favor of wrapping and dipping his fingers into the waistband itself—not delving or diving, just holding. Gripping. Controlling. You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.

Lips against her neck, Qimir definitely felt the feral whimper claw its way out of her throat, desperate and needy—for him alone. In the dark, nobody could see her, but in the light, nobody could hear her. 

Regardless, something snapped in his composure, and he was tired of playing with her like this. He spun her around, capturing her in his grip and kissing her filthily.

They didn’t even bother trying to dance, though their bodies moved against each other in some facsimile of what everyone else was doing. Qimir’s mouth was hot as it claimed her, and how hot did he have to be hotter than the air around them, hotter than the blood in her veins, which felt like fucking fire—

He groaned against her, stoking the flames higher and higher. He tasted only vaguely like his drink from earlier, her tongue instead recognizing the sweet burn of the cinnamon gum he kept in his car.

Said gum seemed to want to join the kiss as well. At the (objectively mortifying) realization, he started to move back. Osha didn’t know what compelled her to do it, but she stole it right from his fucking mouth with a deft flick of her tongue. She pulled back, chewing and snapping it between her teeth to show off her victory.

Qimir looked close to snapping what was left of his composure.

You’re rattling a bit close to the sun, Osha.

“Trouble,” he called her.

“Can you blame me?” she said around a grin, snapping his gum.

Osha’s giggles harmonized with the scuffle of her shoes as she stumbled up the stairs. Qimir herded her like a sheepdog, helping her to wander in just one direction instead of the multiple directions she’d been going. It must have been like walking an overeager puppy for the first time. Once inside, she halted suddenly, making him run into her back with a soft oof.

“Can I wear your gray shirt again?” she asked quite seriously, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. As such, she only half-witnessed the fond smile he cast down at her.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You should sit down.”

“Okay!”

He returned holding a similar set of clothes to the ones he’d given her the last time she slept over—yes, including the gray shirt she’d worn last time. She started undressing automatically, and he quickly stepped into the kitchen, abruptly searching for something in his cabinets. One by one, Osha’s boots thunked to the floor, followed by her jeans, one sock, her coat, her knit cap, the other sock, and then her shirt. She’d foregone a bra in the bar, something she knew Qimir knew if the reddened skin at the back of his neck was anything to go on.

She giggled again as she shimmied into his shirt, the soft material feeling super cozy, even if it was loose on her smaller frame. The shorts were a little more difficult to get on, seeing as her sense of balance was all fucked up.

That means she found the floor.

“Oof,” she muttered, shorts halfway up her legs.

A few hurried steps preceded Qimir’s return; he muttered something under his breath as he helped tug the basketball shorts over her ass and then tugged his girlfriend off of the ground. “You’re wiggly tonight.”

“Myep.” She leaned against him, swaying like she was still slow dancing back at Unplan.

He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go, drunkie.”

He sat her down on the edge of his bed (her side, her mind so helpfully suggested) and pulled a water bottle out of nowhere, cracking it open and immediately placing it in her hands.

Drink, the gesture said. That was an order.

Osha did her best to lock eyes with him as she gulped the water down, hardly tasting it as she did as she was told. He’d told her once that she did a good job of that—or at least better than the swimming and dive team did. She wondered if the sudden darkening of his eyes meant he was thinking the same thing as her.

She gasped for air when she pulled the bottle away, a single errant drop trailing from the corner of her lips. His thumb reached out, viper-fast, to brush it away before it fell any further. Like he’d done with all her tears.

She loved him.

Oh no, she had to be careful. Her lips were definitely a little looser after all she drank, but she still had the wherewithal to keep that little secret firmly behind her teeth.

He lay her down in the bed and pulled the covers up before going around.

Something itched at her mind. There was something wrong with this. Her body didn’t feel ready for bed. “No stretching?” she asked when the room went dark.

“I’ll do it in the morning,” he sighed, snuggling closer to her side until they were comfortable.

She wanted to protest more, but then she was asleep.

Qimir was still asleep, passed out on his back and half-sprawled on top of her. Osha’s head hurt, but not too badly. She was mostly just thirsty.

She knew her way around his kitchen from their many dinners together here.

I never got to cook him breakfast the other day when he slept over, she realized. Time to change that.

Osha was a pretty alright cook. While her dinner skills lacked finesse, breakfast was where she shined. Pancakes. We can have pancakes. We can have pancakes that are so good we can have morning sex for dessert.

She leaned against the counter, drinking water and searching through his iPod to find the right song for optimal breakfast-making vibes. She kept the volume low, letting him rest while setting things up.

…give me a long kiss goodnight and everything’ll be alright, tell me that I won’t feel a thing… so give me—

A noise came from the bed. The sharp sound would haunt her for a very long time after this day. She dropped what she was holding to turn toward whatever fatally wounded animal had made that noise, full of gasping agony and endless despair. She ran to Qimir’s bedside, where he stared at the ceiling and breathed through his nose like it was the only thing he could do. His jaw was clenched far too tightly for him to try to breathe in or out with his mouth—save for that wretched, awful noise.

“Qimir? What’s going on? What happened?” she asked, her voice suddenly panicked.

Panic. She needed to breathe; panic was the enemy of focus, and she’d need a lot of focus because he obviously—

“Can’t move.”

CHAPTER 21

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: Imagine going home after everything that happened in Twisted Wonderland.

Pairing: NA

Genre: Hurt no comfort (im sorry)

TW: Talk of loneliness, mention of scars ig, let me know if there's something else I should add here

AN: I don't know what happened here ummm... I just, started writing and it went somewhere. But going somewhere is still better than going nowhere (which is what a lot of my drafts are doing rn) so I'm just putting this out for your reading pleasure and as a practice thing. Enjoy!

Imagine going home after everything that happened in Twisted Wonderland.

After spending years and years trying to find a way back home with the help of the most wealthy, intelligent people and their abundant resources at hand, you finally manage to return to your world (somehow calling it the real world leaves a bad taste in your mouth; Twisted Wonderland was real, your friends were real. Everything you went through was real, and it would be a gross disservice to treat it as anything less than that).

You find out everything has changed. Naturally, considering you were essentially in a different universe entirely for many years, there would be changes. Like you being presumed dead after being reported missing by your family and friends. Perhaps you're even on one of those documentaries about mysterious and unsolved disappearances with the weirdest theories floating around on the internet.

Imagine going to your home, finding out another person lives there now. Imagine seeing the new tenant lose colour from their face on seeing you, as if they've seen a ghost. Because that is what you are to these people in this world now, isn't it? A ghost of the past.

Imagine having to go to the police, giving them a story you spent time coming up with to explain your absence, your disappearance.

Imagine meeting your family. For how much you've longed to see them while you were in Twisted Wonderland, there is little relief. Especially when they have changed so much, just like you. You have scars you cannot explain, secrets they wouldn't understand, stories they would dismiss at best and be concerned about at worst.

Even if you were to reveal the truth of everything that happened to you, everything that you saw and learnt and experienced, who would believe you? They would think you've gone mad.

Imagine reaching out to your friends, facing the same cycle again and again; the fear, the disbelief, the relief and tears, then the questions. You don't know which part of it hurts you more, which part digs its claws into your heart and shreds it more savagely.

Because somehow, somewhere down the line you don't recognize these people. You don't fit in, and you don't connect. The world has moved on without you, and now that you're back, it struggles to accommodate your unexpected presence.

You see it in the hesitancy with which your best friend introduces you to the child she had with her husband (who was her boyfriend before you left), in the way your father tiptoes around you in any and all conversations. Your mother sometimes forgets to set out three plates instead of the two she had gotten accustomed to, and your friends treat you as though you are made of glass and will shatter with the slightest touch.

You're a ghost of the past, haunting them with your presence and risk hurting them with your absence.

But what can you do?

You made your decision when you chose to come back. There is no going back, no second chances.

" Did I make the right choice?" You think to yourself on days where the loneliness grips you just a little too hard, where the gap between you and your loved ones seems near impossible to bridge. Days where it seems that living in Twisted Wonderland would have been far better than this... empty life you were living.

Can you imagine going home after everything that happened in Twisted Wonderland?

[lionheartedmusings]

also i wanna add that i am a q!bad apologist through and through but i cannot support all of his wrongs because he knows the position he's putting q!baghera in and that... that sucks.

i trust him to have a plan, i trust that there's a point to all of this, but it's still not an okay thing to do — he knows he's having to hurt people, but when it comes to q!baghera? my man, do not. you treat your friend the way she should be treated thank you very much, she has a lot on her plate rn and your dumbass isn't helping.

[sxftkxssxs]

if your comfortable with it, could you please write something about the m6 (or just Asra and Julian) with an anorexic mc? as someone kind of struggling rn I could use the comfort, but if your not comfortable with it I totally understand 🌻

Oh I definitely can!! I hope this helps, even though its forever late :((

Anorexic mc (main 6)

Asra

He's going to be the most worried about you

He'll do anything he can to support you, and I mean anything

Asra would make sure the things you both eat are things you are okay trying, and he definitely tries to make eating more enjoyable for you

He always checks in on you to make sure you aren’t pushing yourself too hard.

He’s always so proud of you, making sure you can hear him say it when you’re in the privacy of your room. It’s often mixed in with soft whispers of praise.

might invite you to cook with him, if you accept, the kitchen ends up a little more of a mess than before (why is there flour on the ceiling..?)

Faust likes to wrap and squeeze you when you have a hard day. (She’s very cold and now you are too!) 

Julian

At first he’s probably a little stumped, but he’s a doctor. he knows about these things

He makes sure he doesn’t get too carried away with the doctor talk, you’re safe from doctor lectures

Malak will often perch on your shoulders, only squawking at Julian a mild amount

Julian doesn't push you too hard, and often leaves you little reminders that you're doing amazing (though you can't really read that chicken scratch doctor handwriting..) 

He tries his best to be there for you when it gets harder, offering to sit with you while you both eat together, dramatic support when you do well!!

Overall he's such a sweetheart, and he makes sure you're not being too hard on yourself

Nadia

Nadia worries almost as bad as Asra does, but she doesn’t always let it show

She’ll take this into consideration for every meal that's planned

She makes sure any meal you both have won’t be too much for you!

Nadia shows how proud she is of you with soft touches outside of the privacy your rooms provide. When inside the privacy of her own spaces she’ll often invite you to bathe with her. (if you turn that down I’ll go in for you).

if you have a really bad day she’ll have them make something a little less, extravagant

Muriel

He won’t have much to say, but you can tell he remembers from other things he does for you

He’ll quietly ask you if you’ve eaten or if you’re alright if he notices anything off

The food he makes always suits your tastes and always looks like someone put a lot of care into it

Muriel makes sure to eat with you, taking a seat beside you

Inanna will still gladly accept any leftovers, although she’s much less eager to snatch it right off your plate

He tries to show he’s proud of you, he gets a little smile on his face every time you two eat together. Inanna often snuggles up to you after you all eat and won’t get up for anything

Muriel won’t be disappointed if theres some things you just can’t bring yourself to eat, either he or Inanna will eat it 

Portia 

Portia definitely has concerns

She’s more of a baker but she can make (some) foods for you if you’d prefer!

She’d likely ask Julian some questions, or just let him spew as much as he knew on the topic 

She’ll encourage you to hang out with her in the kitchens eventually, and everyone working there would be incredibly supportive

Pepi sometimes steals from the kitchens for you, bringing you little parts of things you like (and a leaf once!) 

Portia shows she’s proud of you loud and clear, big hugs and kisses are absolutely part of the routine

Lucio

He’s got a lot of spirit I can tell you that

Most likely won’t be paying much attention to your plate or anything other than the conversation you’re having

he’ll take some time to process why you might not wanna eat- he genuinely thinks you’re amazing no matter what

Lucio is all about fun and making things not seem as bad, so that’s what he does-

He’ll tell you about things he’s done in the past, things he’s planning on the two of you doing, all of it

I think he’s always got to have a hand on you in some way, so depending on what you two are eating he might draw circles on your unused hand, or link pinkies with you.

Mercedes and Melchior often nudge you, slipping their heads under your arm occasionally. No one can ever tell if they’re trying to encourage you or beg for scraps…