#edit: wait i wrote more in the reblogs

[loudlooks]

Anybody have any tips on how I can push myself to read fiction again? Anything longer than five sentences and my brain is all "nope, not doing this, stop that right now".

[lucyandthepen]

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

���I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

[kiyoomi-levin]

Morning Routine [nsfw]

(Wakatoshi Ushijima x F!Reader)

a/n this is something i wrote and edited today in a single run >.< I wanted to release a haikyuu fluff fic for my tumblr debut but i was just possessed by something this morning and rolled outta bed and just typed this up hehe.. reblogs and comments appreciated!! i have like 12 unfinished works rn and i am busting my ass off to get those finished and published! please be on the lookout for more from me!

summary:: wakatoshi has a bad habit-- his morning routine revolves around you. more specifically, cumming to the sounds of you. warnings:: wakatoshi is highkey a creep/stalker but this fic is fluffy i promise music rec!:: 2fast by superm <AKA the song i listened to when writing> word count:: 1.9k

6:33 AM, the blinking clock reads. 

He doesn’t even need an alarm now. 

Silently, Wakatoshi rolls over, reaches over to his nightstand and grasps the two items he needs most– lube and toilet paper. 

Sighing, he sits himself up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, and, as if awaiting instructions, goes very, very still. 

In a way, he is waiting for orders. You just aren’t aware that you’re the one giving them. 

6:34 AM. A mere minute before you’re up and he can get started with his day. It doesn’t feel right, yet he can’t stop. Shaking his head, Wakatoshi shifts his weight around, impatient. 

I should stop. 

There it is. That nagging voice of reason that scolds him every morning. But really, at this point, he can’t function normally without you. 

There’s a certain amount of stress that comes with carrying the title of ace. All the papers praising his skills, cheering fangirls, and words of encouragement from coach only added to the ever growing expectations that people had for him. 

Luckily, when he was a senior in high school, Wakatoshi had discovered what best alleviates this pressure– not meditation, not Tendo’s comics, but sexual relief. 

Every morning, a quick handjob does the job, gets him into prime condition. He even checked with his primary doctor to ensure it’s safe and healthy to release everyday– “you’ll be fine, Wakatoshi, as long as you don’t consume too much porn,” the old man had advised kindly. 

He took the doctor’s words to heart– since he had discovered this method of relief, Wakatoshi had never viewed porn. Some of his teammates laughed at him when they found out he almost religiously avoids it, but he doesn’t want to contaminate his brain with potentially intrusive or disturbing visions. His imagination has always been enough, after all. 

Until he met you.

In a way, you’re both a blessing and a curse– probably the latter, he admits to himself. Because since he’d met you months ago, the only thing that’s been able to get him up is you. 

He’s never slept so well, his skin has never looked so clear, and, most importantly, his condition on court has never been better. He’s considered the possibility of you being a goddess, or possibly his guardian angel and can only rule those out with the fact that you, like him, masturbate. 

More accurately, masturbate. Every. Single. Morning. 

Then he hears it. The first soft moan. Wakatoshi glances at the time– 6:37 AM. You’re getting a slightly late start today. 

No matter. He lifts his hips, gently rolls down his gray sweats to his lower thigh. He’s already hard. He doesn’t even have to touch himself now to get excited. Your quiet voice and the thoughts of you are enough.

Poor you. You’re unaware that despite residing in a luxurious, single-person room reserved for school athletes, the walls are criminally thin. 

Wakatoshi pops open the lid of the lube, squirting a glob into his warm hand. He throws aside the bottle, barely registering as it bounces off the bed, only intent on listening into the sounds of you and your body. 

When he first grasps his cock, he has to hold back a groan. Despite it being an everyday routine, he still feels the same surge of pleasure as when he first started this nasty habit months ago. 

You're breathing slightly more heavily now, and he hears the sounds of your fingers inserting and exiting your body at a familiar pace. He follows along, carefully stroking up and down. 

He wonders where you’ve learned this from, because you always go at the perfect pace. Somedays, you go slower, teasing yourself, pausing just before you orgasm, but it’s always. 

It’s always exactly what he needs.

God. He knows this is wrong, even as he pumps faster with his left hand to keep up with your quick fingers. It feels so good. 

Next door, you’re beginning to let out soft cries.

He presses his thumb against the tip, holding back a moan of his own as he envisions you jerking him off. 

He’s seen your hand before– extra soft from being in gloves for multiple hours daily as a fencer. 

Thinking about your sport has him thinking about his, and now he’s back to thinking about how wrong this is. But he can’t help it, he’s already tried to give it up once– yielding horrible results. 

The day he held back and skipped a morning fap session with you was also the hardest day of his life. He had found himself unable to focus in lecture, especially grumpy towards Tendo’s typically bearable antics, and worst of all, all his hits were off. 

“Your schedule must be off,” his captain had said, casually tossing a ball high into the air.

“Bad sleep? Rough morning?” 

Wakatoshi had blinked at him wordlessly, wondering how the tall setter had guessed accurately. 

“It’s fine,” the third-year had reassured him, “just get back on track tomorrow.”

With that, Wakatoshi had found himself ‘back on track,’ masturbating with– no, to you– every morning. 

You’re moaning out loud now, almost whimpering. His cock pulses in his hands, veins bulging, growing hotter and heavy. Fuck, he just wants to see you right now. Your cute face, your sexy neck, gorgeous arms... 

He can almost see it now– your smooth thighs shaking and twisting as your small hands would grasp your pillow. He’d make you feel so good, he just knows it. He’d lean against you, kiss your neck and ear before whispering how good you are, how you’re making him cum, how much he loves you! 

You’d cum, and he wouldn’t stop. He’d want to see your eyes roll back over and over again, and he’d memorize every inch of your face.

Wakatoshi holds back another groan. His fisted hand feels so good against his cock, especially as it imagines it’s your tight pussy. 

Contrary to what Tendo believes (the only one to know about this bad habit) it wasn’t just your soft moans and quiet gasps that had him clenching his sheets as he lifted his hips.

He had long fallen for you, since you had first locked eyes with him in the long hallway. 

There was something about you. The way you always smile up at him gently– not in the way that other girls smile at him, as if they want something (usually his number)– but a genuine smile, eyes crinkling slightly.  

This unexpected attraction was only exacerbated when you sat next to him at the first-years’ dinner party. You smelled so fucking good and listened to his words with actual interest, asking him about his family and laughing at his lame jokes.

Unfortunately, he was also scared. 

He had heard about the countless rejections you’d dished out since the first day of university. 

Despite his perceived sexual ignorance, Wakatoshi knew everything there was to know– he was popular, too, in his own right. Tall and lean, there were girls throwing themselves on him left and right. 

But he only wanted you. 

Today, he must be extra stressed (especially with that upcoming psychology exam that he hasn’t studied for yet) because he’s so, so close, yet can’t seem to finish. 

Fine then. 

He leans over, grabs his cell phone. He only does this in emergency cases, which occurs about once or twice a month. 

Swiping up, he’s greeted by his photo gallery, opened the night prior for this cause. 

In his locked gallery awaits dozens of photos of you. 

Obviously none were taken by him! 

Wakatoshi’s a creep, but one with manners and boundaries. 

This gallery is cluttered with headshots of you from the school’s official website, silly photos of you that were sent into the college athlete’s group chat, and his favorite– photos of you from your close friend who sells them to him at fair prices, starting at $10 minimum. 

None are suggestive. But they still rile him up, maybe because the only connection he has with you is through your early morning activities. 

Wakatoshi desperately taps on the newest picture he bought for $40, quadruple the usual price– he can hear your breath hitching, and he knows you’re almost done. 

He wants to finish with you so bad. 

He was going to save this picture for next week, when he knows you’ll be gone for the fencing nationals and he’ll have to cum without you for an entire miserable, dreadful, god-forsaken week–

but he doesn’t care now. Nothing matters. 

It’s a glorious photo– when he heard your friend had it, he had grabbed her by the shoulders and demanded a price. 

You. On the beach. Under an umbrella. Lying on a purple towel.

He had paid an extra ten dollars for the motion picture– so he could watch you go from ass up onto your back, breasts jiggling and cheeky smirk in full action.

That’s enough. 

He holds his fist tight–one more pump and he’s finished, but he wants to make sure you’re cumming first– and he hears it– to his relief, you’re moaning and whispering– “‘m cumming!” 

Yeah, he’s cumming too. His hips lift again, and he drags his closed fist downwards against his wet cock. His vision blurs. 

“Fuck!” 

He can’t help it, today’s orgasm is especially strong, taking control of his full body. He’s shaking, mind barely in control as he continues to slowly pump to ride out the whole orgasm. After all, that’s what you’d do, right? You’d keep riding him, even as he finished and begged you to stop. 

Thank God we came together.

Sometimes, you bait him. More often than he likes, you switch it up, holding yourself back and not allowing yourself to cum before masturbating all over again for an even more powerful orgasm. Those days suck– when he’s already softening, cum all over his large hands, and you’re still going. 

He hears your bed squeak, and he sighs– as soon as it starts, it’s already over.

6:45 AM, his phone reads. Wakatoshi tosses it aside.

Thankfully, he had pulled his phone away in time, avoiding tainting the device with his release. A few times a month, he gets careless and cums onto an open picture of you, causing him to have to run through his shower extra fast so he can leave time to wipe down the device.

Rolling off the bed, he heads towards the shower leisurely. It’s also become a part of his routine to time his shower. It makes him feel even more intimately connected to you. 

Wakatoshi’s grateful you take long showers– you’ve never taken less than 24 minutes to shower, typically, they last about 34 minutes on average. That gives him the time to jump out first and wait to exit his room at the same time you depart from yours. 

Under the heat of warm water, he’s usually consumed with thoughts of you, impossible thoughts, like maybe you know. 

The wall between you and him is equally thin, and your hearing may be as equally good as his…

Maybe you know, and you like masturbating with him. 

And then, just as a precaution, he douses himself with cold water at the end of his shower, and those thoughts dissipate with the steam escaping towards the vent. 

Like everyday, Wakatoshi laces his shoes, sprays on his favorite cologne (that your friend claims you like) and inhales, bracing himself to see you. 

As he hears your feet shuffle, he pushes his door open first, stepping out into the warm hallway.

“Good morning, Wakatoshi!” You greet, eyes brightening. He nods, gulping. That’s an acceptable form of greeting, right?

As the two of you walk towards the elevator in silence, Wakatoshi can’t help but hope that this morning routine won’t be coming to a stop anytime soon. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n and that's a wrap :,) i really hope you liked and sorry the ending is highkey shit LOL as i kept editing i kept adding and removing more and more and honestly that's kind of my biggest weakness:: i'm never satisfied with my work and i'm scared ppl won't like it ... but i'm trying to overcome that!

[navybrat817]

Epinephrine

Summary: Bucky races to win as you watch with anticipation.

Pairing: Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Nerves, K-I-S-S-I-NG, swearing, POV switch, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @saradika. Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My third Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 3) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Dialed In AU, but can be read as a standalone. Apologies for any inaccuracies, but I'm human and still had fun writing this.❤️ Thank you @targaryenvampireslayer for the POV switch suggestion! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Epinephrine. Both a hormone and a neurotransmitter, the chemical messenger transmits nerve signals to prepare your body for fight or flight. Most call it adrenaline. Some liken it to pre-race jitters.

Bucky considered it his own personal fuel.

Just breathe.

It amazed him how so many wrote off motocross as just another sport without considering the physical and mental training they put into it or how dangerous it was. Position, weight distribution, and correct form on the bike were all things to consider when practicing and racing. Not to mention no two tracks are alike, the conditions constantly changing. You had to take the hills, jumps, turns, and distance for your own safety and those around you.

He mentally wished Steve and the others a safe race, even Rumlow. Prick or not, he didn’t want the guy to get hurt. He sure as hell didn't want to lose to him either.

"For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t hit him. Because he would have won and guys like him don’t deserve to win."

No, he doesn't.

His heart raced a little faster, his right palm starting to sweat as the nerves and excitement clashed in his chest. The knot in his stomach settled as he waited for the race to start, his focus on the path in front of him. The rough terrain ahead called to him, urging him to unleash whatever anger, fear, joy, and anything he had built up inside. He would go all out, leaving no regrets in his path.

All leading to you after he crossed the finish line.

"Good luck."

Gave me all the luck I need, Spitfire.

With your voice in his mind, it quieted any doubt that lingered. He knew his strengths and even his limits when it came to the sport. Getting back on the bike after his accident already proved that he was a winner. He didn't need to prove himself to anyone else.

But he hoped you would see his worth.

And as the gate dropped, he smiled behind his helmet.

You grabbed Natasha's arm as the riders took off, keeping an eye out for Bucky. She didn't pull away or make a comment when you dug your nails in. You appreciated her a bit more because of that. You also didn't understand why you were nervous when you weren't the one on the track.

I've seen plenty of races, but I didn't have anything at stake before.

"Sorry," you muttered as you let the redhead go.

"It's okay. He's got this," she assured you.

You nodded, doing your best to give her a smile. A mile and a half long course and likely a twenty to thirty minute race and extra lap, you knew it was standard. But watching the dirt fly as you focused on Bucky's helmet, your heart felt like it was in your throat. You didn't just want him to win, you wanted him safe.

Just breathe. He knows what he's doing.

"If he gets hurt, I'm kicking his ass," you said, sucking in a breath as another rider got close to his back wheel.

"And nurse him back to health," Natasha teased.

"Yeah. With a uniform and all," you teased, actually kind of into the idea.

Down girl.

You got uncharacteristically quiet after that, your stomach dropping when Maddox gained on Bucky. He was still in a good position, his friend, Steve, up there with him. It was almost like witnessing a roller coaster ride, the ups and downs, the twists and drops. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you could only imagine how the guys out there felt actually experiencing it.

Exhilarating.

As the riders got close to the final lap, you jumped up. You somehow stayed on your feet when your head spun, but you weren't going to miss this. Bucky and Maddox were almost neck-in-neck, but Maddox probably thought he had it in the bag. That kind of cockiness didn't always pay off.

You sure as hell didn’t want it to pay off today.

"Come on, Hothead," you whispered.

While Maddox turned his head to look at Bucky, the latter kept his head facing forward and elbows up. As if he didn't care that his competition was there. He raced smarter, not harder, as you watched with bated breath. He kept his lead toward the finish line as you couldn’t help but smile.

Bucky Barnes won the race.

He won. He fucking won.

"Fuck yes!" you shouted, uncaring of your language as Bucky took first, his left fist pumping in the air. The way everyone else cheered, they probably didn't notice. But you finally felt like you could take a proper breath, the mental ride coming to a stop. "For the record, I'm just happy he made it across the finish line. This has nothing to do with the date."

I can actually smell my own bullshit.

"Wow. You managed to say that with a straight face. Impressive," Natasha said, nodding toward the course as the race wrapped up. "Come on. Let's go congratulate him. And by we I mean you."

"He raced a good race. It was very exciting," you said evenly, but you eagerly pulled her along to get out of the stands and through the crowd.

You weren’t sure if you were actually allowed to go up to greet him, but people moved to let you through. Was it your strut or Natasha’s subtle stare that made everyone jump out of the way? As you got closer to Bucky and the other riders, you felt like your heart was going to race out of your chest when you stopped at the edge of the course. Especially when took off his helmet, a light sheen of sweat on his face as he shook his hair out.

Fuck me in the dirt, please.

“Go,” Natasha encouraged after some of the guys congratulated Bucky, except for Maddox who stood feet away with a glare on his face.

Sore loser doesn’t look good on him, but he’s not why I’m here.

Holding your head high, you locked eyes with Bucky when he looked your way. Seemingly forgetting the others around him, he walked toward you to meet you halfway when you stepped in the dirt. The two of you stood there for a long moment before he smirked. A slight one, but still a smirk.

“Looks like I won,” he said, his voice rough.

“You did. Congratulations,” you said, stepping back to hold out your hand. “And it looks like you get to go out with me, so double congratulations,” you simpered, previous annoyance that he bet a date with you completely forgotten.

“Are we shaking on it?” he chuckled, his gloved hand reaching for yours. A spark of electricity moved up your arm once he took it and you refused to deny your attraction at that moment.

“You could say that,” you smirked, yanking him close. “But I prefer to seal it with a kiss.”

You took a moment to appreciate how soft and warm his lips felt when you initiated the kiss this time. You allowed his tongue to slip inside and explore when you parted your lips, feeling the beat of his heart as he pressed his chest against your body. It wasn’t hard or urgent, but excitement and passion consumed you. It didn’t matter if he got your clothes dirty. Or that a few of the riders whistled and cheered at the display.

He smiled against your lips when you had to take a breath. “I thought you said you weren’t a prize.”

“And I thought you said your ass was all mine after you win,” you reminded him, almost wishing you reached around to squeeze it. Even dirty and sweaty, he still looked and smelled amazing. It was a phenomenon.

“I did and I meant it,” he said, sneaking in another kiss before he had to pull away. “You sticking around?”

“I’ll be with Nat. Go do what you have to,” you said, turning away to back to your friend. She had a smile on her face. You had one on yours, too.

“I still have to get your number, so don’t go anywhere!” Bucky called after you.

“Who said I was giving you my number?” you asked over your shoulder. “I never agreed to that.”

“How am I supposed to take you on a date without it?” he asked.

“You seem like a smart guy. You’ll figure it out, Hothead,” you teased, egging him on just a little.

“Want me to get on my knees, Spitfire?”

Yes and split me open with that talented tongue of yours.

“She’ll give you her number,” Natasha said, waving Bucky on as you laughed. You may have checked his ass out again because he did say it was yours. And he no doubt checked yours out as you walked away. “You are giving him your number before we leave.”

“I will,” you promised, giving her a small smile. “I’m glad you introduced me to him,” you added gently, looking forward to getting to know him more.

“And I’m glad you put a smile back on his face.”

Hearing that felt like a victory.

I guess we’re both winners today, Hothead.

Yay! He won! Was there ever any doubt? More to come. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[brights-place]

Trollex X Rapper! S/O

Pairing: Trollex X S/O

Warnings: Lots of Fluff

A/N: Okay my first ever thought today to get me distracted was listening to music so I just shuffled some songs form one of my playlists and a rap song was playing while I was writing and I was like ‘Oh shit I gotta write this!’ Now here we are!

- Trollex with a Rapper! S/O YIPPEEE it was so fun to write this

- When you first met Trollex asked you all about your genre listening to how you explained everything and told him that a rapper is a musical poet technically your job was blending rhythm and rhyme to express stories, emotions, and ideas. They craft lyrics, hone their flow, and perform with energy that captivates audiences. Rappers often reflect on personal experiences or societal issues, becoming voices for their communities like what you did

- He couldn’t stop being interested in you after that and get pulled in more when you rapped into the microphone to show him an example with an random beat he gave

- He can’t help but raise a brow at you sometimes when you rock up to the studio and wait for creativity to strike, usually spending all night to work on your music he gets worried sometimes and tells you to relax and have some fun with him at the Techno reef Parties

- He would definitely make beats for your song and let you freestyle your way with the music he had given you.

- He love sit when you rap especially when you insult someone in an rap battle he finds it funny to see your smirk or smile

- He loves when you write and perform some of your rap songs or hip-hop music.

- He hates how your genre was criticised though sometimes… scratch that he hates when anybody discriminates and insults someone’s genre or music (it’s technically their race in Trolls)

- He loves you with all his heart but can’t help but notice how you and Prince D would vibe to hip hop together and rap he’s jealous of your bond since your technically in the same music genre even if your appearance was different your genre was the same

- Trollex though loves when you share your earbuds/headphones with him to show him some New rap songs or hip hop music you enjoy fucking falls in love with you all over again

- He had tried rapping once since you begged him to do it he was good like REALLY GOOD

- That mother fucker was good at it… not as good as Bruce though that man could go off (Bruce is VA is the guy who played my favourite character in Hamilton Marquis de Lafayette and Thomas Jefferson. NEHGEHE)

- He glows and has an bigger smile when you praise him as he quickly tackles you into an hug and snuggle into you which leads up to you holding him close to your chest and rubbing his back as he sleeps on your peacefully

- Trollex can’t help but admire how you hold your mic and go off at anybody or just have fun with it

- He loves how you send out messages through your rap speaking up and talking about issues and your own experiences while on stage.

- You know how I said he makes your beats? Well you also come by to his place and surprise him with an rap you wrote out of boredom without realising and asked if he could help make an beat for it

- he did and it was sold so fast 😭

- Trollex loves when you sing normally though even if you rap all the time he loves when you just sing in an slow pace and wants to dance with you slowly even if both of you were used to the loud techno and hip hop music

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[greywritesthings]

Cherry trees and lavender

Spencer reid x poet!f!reader

Fluff

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff

A/N : slightly delirious with lack of sleep writing this, may rewrite the end but heres it for now, reblogs likes and follows appreciated massively, i have freaking discover turned off for ages

Masterlist

spencer reid Masterlist

Read on AO3

“Honey! Jordan Bell has a new poetry book coming out!” Spencer yells as soon as he walks in the door, expecting you to be curled up in your shared bedroom given it was a Friday afternoon and you had normally long since finished work for the day. He was surprised to find you laid out on the couch laptop resting precariously on the edge of the sofa, your tablet now resting face down on the floor, already having fallen victim to your slumber. He walked across to you, going to right the laptop and tablet, fully intending to turn them off once they were on the coffee table when an email caught his eye. Book signing meeting: Cherry trees and lavender

What

Why would you be getting emails about meetings for the book his favourite modern poet had just released. He looked at your tablet and saw two more surprising tabs: Release day sales reports and one off specialty collection edition delivery conformation.“What on earth.” he muttered to himself, nearly going to snoop more but he felt bad already just for looking at the open tabs on your computer, so he decided to just wake you up. “Darling? Wake up sweet girl” he moves the hair from your face smiling down at you as you slowly blink your eyes open as they go from confused to recognition. “Hi baby, tired from work?” he asks, laughing slightly as you just pull him down onto you. “Sweetheart, you left your laptop open from when you were working and i didnt mean to snoop but i saw some stuff about cherry trees and” he gets cut off as you basically push him off of you to sit up and turn towards your laptop. “What emails did you see, exactly spence? I don't mind you knowing, there's just a surprise I don't want ruined.” 

“I don't know, what do you mean? Why are you getting emails about cherry trees and lavender? Let alone sales reports or book signing meetings?” He is painfully confused as you turn around to look at him like he's missed something painfully obvious. “Darling, why do you think I would get those emails? Given I'm not an accountant nor a secretary, I'm sure your genius brain can figure it out pretty boy.” you say as you stand up heading over to the kitchen, you hadn’t explicitly ever told him, but hadn't really kept it a secret, but once you realised he hadn't yet guessed you were Jordan Bell you figured you would tell him with a one off collection of your books, with customised covers all with something that reminded you of him and the latest one, cherry trees and lavender had a dedication page just for him. It had come today so with the kettle boiling you walked off to the bedroom to grab the stack of books waiting on the bed. 

“Sweet girl, your Jordan Bell? The poetry author?” he asks, still sounding utterly bewildered at the thought as you walk back into the room. You place the books down on the coffee table, “Read this, look at these, then if you don't get it i might just have to start questioning that genius title of yours my darling.” you say opening to the dedication page you wrote to him personally and laying out the covers of the books one by one. 

He doesn't move for ten minutes, seemingly frozen on the dedication page, you made sure not to mention him by name but described him well enough that you would hope and pray he gets it. “You okay there darling?” you ask cautiously. Unsure what's going through his head. He shakes himself free of the trance he was in. “Im, your, sorry yes i'm fine darling just, shocked. How did you hide this from me? Also, you're my favourite twenty-first century author just by the way.” he grinned at you. “Well, i didn't care if you found out before this really, but when i realised you didn't know i was part way through writing cherry trees and you ended up being a large inspiration for the lavender part.” you say with a smile, taking the book out of his hands and placing it down carefully. “So, I ordered a special edition collection from the publisher with customer hardcovers that have little things that remind me of you or us, and added some bonus ones to each, so they're all a tad longer than the original. I know you wanted the anniversary collection when it came out but I thought a one of a kind edition was better.” At this point you slotted yourself in his arms, chin resting on his chest looking at him as he looked down at you, smiling as wide as a kid in a candy shop. “I love them darling, they're the best, I just can't believe I never caught onto this.” he says reaching over to grab his new book as you shuffle further down him grabbing your own e-reader as you spend the rest of the evening basking in each other, with spencer commenting on the poems as he goes, smiling at everyone that points towards a memory you shared together.

[queenendless]

Giddy Giant

Working on new content for here on other stuff like P3R and maybe YGO in the future but its mostly JJK still for now. Anywho — !

Lee!Satoru Gojo x Ler!GN!Reader.

Short fic piece on established relationship, tickle madness/fluff, foot tickles/worship. The moment I saw the official artwork, my inner ler demanded content.

Sorry for my personal kinks/fetishes and it's fine if it turns you off from reading this but honestly I wrote this in like 2 days ... yeah inspiration comes and goes and works in odd ways so sorry about that.

*DON'T PLAGARIZE, REPOST, TRANSLATE, COPY AND/OR EDIT MY FANFIC WORK. RATHER IF YOU ENJOY MY CONTENT, REBLOG, LIKE AND FOLLOW, THNX.

Downing a bunch of coffee with mini marshmallows would satiate the sweets addicted Satoru Gojo for the time being.

But after finishing a week’s worth of work exorcizing curses, it would make even the one at the apex of sorcery get exhausted.

So cups of that cozy warm beverage only knocked him right out.

To see him out of his usual work attire and into more casual clothing was nice. Having no blindfold on meant his bangs hung freely in his face.

Laying down on the couch meant his long slim legs took up most of it, with his big dawgs pressed against the couch arm.

You peaked over the couch, smitten at the breathtaking sight of your partner fast asleep, feasting on how irresistible he looked.

Now that he's back in your shared home, that meant he trusted you enough to let his Infinity down and recharge.

But after being apart for so long, you wanted to hear his genuine melody right away.

The carefree laughs he gives off to everyone else was always for show or mockery due to his bad personality.

And yet, around you, his persona as the strongest could be dropped. To you, he's just Satoru Gojo, your partner, free to unwind.

For you, plopping on the arm rest those grippers pressed up against, your favorite unwinding method went underway.

His face scrunched up a bit, underlined by quiet grumbles as you stroked a finger up and down one sole before his other foot came in to brush your ghost touches away.

You grinned slyly, repeating the same brush stroke to the other sole, watching in silent glee as those strewn lips started stretching.

Tenderly rubbing his bridges in circles, your hands went all spider-like as they scratched at them next.

His legs shifted as his head craned back against the other armrest, humming some deep chuckles behind those now curling lips.

Slowly wiggling your digits into his arches had him kicking, nearly hitting you, but you sprung off the arm rest, when you froze.

“If you wanted to get a session going, you could have just waited until after I fully rested up. But attacking me in my sleep with my guard down like that … sneaky little ler you~”

Despite getting caught, Gojo's slanted eyes danced with mirth, peeking from underneath his arm resting against his forehead. He then propped those feet up on the armrest, waving them temptingly, waiting for your next move.

Gently kneading that velvety foot with ease made you relish in how soft they felt despite the man moving around so much and kicking the shit out of foes and the like. Your thumbs wiggled deeply into his silky skin, licking and smooching, for his taste is one that could never be topped.

He craned his head back as his adorable giggles left his open mouth smile, plopping his spare foot atop your noggin. “Does using you as my new footstool earn me anything?”

“Careful what you wish for.”

Releasing your current target, you pulled his other foot off your cranium before squeezing it in both your hands, gentle nibbling on his squirmy taunting toes had him giggling louder, kicking his spasming free leg out in response.

“Maybe I should have asked for this kind of treatment the moment I got back.” He chortled through his words, squirming as he sat up now, pulling his free foot out of your reach to flex it. “Though I'd rather you sit your cute little fanny down if we're gonna keep going.”

Smooching the ball of his foot, you freed it as you curled up on the empty cushion spot, snatching up the other foot, cradling it still before lathering those toes in the same sultry treatment as you gave the previous five, working your tongue in between them, earning a guffawing Gojo squirming in his spot.

“If it means I can keep doing this, fine by me.” Your breathy words made him shiver from the tingling touch to his slick skin.

“Can't believe being the lee in this can feel this good. Receiving this kind of worship from you is interesting. Though it'd devastate my very soul if I reflexively hit you by accident~!” He dramatically cried out before breaking out into full blown howling as you sat on his calves to slide all your fingers in between all his toes, attacking the pads and stems in your vibrating frenzy.

“That's a risk I'm willing to take – AAH~!”

You suddenly yelp as Satoru slid his hands underneath your top from behind, kneading and pinching your flesh, jolting in his grasp while letting out many shrieks yourself.

“Bad move to turn your back on your prey ... Y/n.”

Your futile attempt to pull away from him drove him to pull himself in until he literally splayed up against your back, leaning down to chuckle sinisterly right in your blushing ear.

“This is where you're weak, right~?” His teasing only heightened the ticklish sensation as his hands slid down to cup your jiggly belly and vibrate those sculpted fingers of his crazily, bringing out a stream of high-pitched howling and frantic limbs flailing outta you.

“I'm down for switching our roles right about now. You're not the only one who's missed the sound of our laughter.” He littered your face with butterfly kisses in tune with his fingers digging into your hips, making you laugh harder. “Especially yours.”

“No fair! I was just getting started!” You whined through your cackling when his lips began buzzing into your neck, earning spouts of screams and squirming from you.

“You've been a fabulous tickle monster thus far, Y/n. But now, let your dear Toru return the favor~” His devious laughter mingled with your guffawing as his lone digit jiggled into your belly button.

His unrestrained laughter filled up the room with yours, caging your legs between his own. Shedding tears from the ticklish overload, you were smothered by his unbridled warmth, tickles and all.

After a while spent becoming puddy in his dexterous hands, he stopped, letting you sag against his chest, shivering from his ghost touches, tired giggles leaving your parted lips.

Nuzzling his nose against your tear-stained hot cheek, he licked the salty goodness off your skin. Satoru beamed with affection for you, pecking your lips lovingly with a giggle of his own. “Good to be back in your arms again, my beloved ler.”

He fell back against the couch so he could lay there with you entangled in his arms, your legs intertwined, as you nuzzled your tired face against your makeshift pillow that is his chest, finally settling down with a smile of your own.

“Welcome home.”

[artbyeloquent]

"fuck it, just hit post" - a 2024 writeblr resolution

In December I wrote a little rant about how much better I might feel if I stopped feeling beholden to put out aesthetic "content" and just shared the raw truth of my art and writing drafts. @inkovert also had some lovely thoughts on that post that inspired me.

So here's my best crack at it! Similar to @winterandwords CalmWriMo but as (hopefully) a lasting commitment to the whole year, Fuck It, Just Hit Post aims for me to share more regularly regardless of whether I consider the work "polished" enough to post or even if it gets 2 notes.

As someone who notoriously edits as they write, constantly worrying if their words are resounding enough for someone to read, I'd like to challenge myself to the "fuck it" mentality. Even if I get nothing from it--no notes, no new followers--my hope is that it'll shift my mindset away from "content creation" to the joyful act of creating, period.

If you'd like to join me in this New Year's Resolution, you can post whatever you please (doodles, wip updates, rambles, oc content, etc) under the tag #writeblr.fijhp ! I will track the tag and do my best to reblog everyone's work <3

This is more of a philosophy than a writeblr challenge, which means you can start and stop at anytime. Post once under the tag, or flood it. Who cares! You can do whatever you want forever. And the "fuck it" mentality will always be waiting if you'd like to try it out.

[suzukiblu]

WIP WEDNESDAY GAME

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

think pink

mirrorverse!Clark and Kon's daddy issues both get some

Match and Kon and the time magic made them do it

interdimensional whoring for TimKon

the Core Four gangs up on Kon's objectification kink

Yes, yes it IS the porn edition of WIP Wednesday this week. You're welcome or I'm sorry, whichever one more accurately applies, haha.

And just to remind you all, I'm totally cool with people requesting multiple WIPs, but I'd prefer if you sent them in multiple asks! Just a little easier for me that way.

snippet from “think pink”:

“Made you wait long enough already, yeah?” Kon says, biting his lip before flashing them both a grin and spreading his thighs a little farther, and a little more deliberately. “Show me what all the fuss is about, man.”

“Ngh,” Tim says. Bernard curses, then laughs in disbelief and grabs the lube. 

“I actually cannot believe you’re letting me touch you,” he says. “Like, at all.” 

“I want you to touch me,” Kon says firmly. Tim picked Bernard. There’s no way this isn’t gonna be good.

Bernard flushes and laughs again, shaking his head and shifting over to kneel between Kon’s thighs, and Kon feels–not self-conscious, exactly, but just very much aware of the fact that this is not the usual kind of thing he does in bed and not the usual way people touch him or look at him, and not really something he knows how to . . . 

“That still feels so nice, geez,” Bernard says, which is when Kon realizes his TTK’s gotten a little bit away from him and wrapped up both Bernard and Tim. He flushes himself, a little embarrassed, and tries not to look sheepish when he grins up at Bernard again. 

“I aim to please,” he says. “What do you need me to do?” 

“Nothing,” Tim says, stroking his collarbones again. “Just relax and let us take care of you, alright?” 

Kon isn’t actually sure how to do that, but . . . 

It sounds nice, he thinks. Like–several kinds of nice. 

Like really nice.

[nickfowlerrr]

Getting pwyc vibes from this gif https://www.tumblr.com/nickfowlerrr/716041933395558400?source=share

🥰

ahhhhhhh 😭 don’t give me any ideas, i have so many wips i need to tend to. 😩 but god the urge is so strong to write a little drabble inspired by this because it’s absolutely them 🥺🖤 bucky is on her any chance he has…. oh fuck, okay. who am i kidding. here we go.

his favorite pillow

pairing: pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader

warnings: ooey gooey softness. not really anything. also i wrote this in 3rd person pov for some reason? so there’s that lol.

words: 752

notes: i legit just wrote this so not at all edited lol sorry for any mistakes. thank you in advance for reading, i hope you enjoy this! as always, feedback and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

She can just be lounging on the couch, reading a book or lazily watching a movie on television when Bucky walks by and sees her.

It’s not ten seconds before she feels his weight on her as he lays himself down without a word, his head burying itself in her chest as his arms rest on either side of her.

He takes a moment to enjoy her warmth and the soft skin of her cleavage against his face before he lets himself get really comfortable, shimmying down her body just a bit as he lets his head lay back down.

Her hands are already coming up to run through his hair, holding him gently as he relaxes even further into her. A soft moan tumbles from Bucky’s lips under her attention, his eyes already fallen closed.

His face is on her soft tummy as she cradles his head against her chest. When he feels her lean down, placing a delicate kiss on his hair, he swears his heart almost hurts from how full it is.

He never thought he would have this. Never thought anyone would care about him the way she does. He doesn’t deserve it. He knows that. But she’s still here. And she still loves him. He can feel it with every brush of her fingers through his hair. With every relaxed inhale she takes. With every beat of her precious heart that he’s vowed to never break again. And he knows she’ll deny it, argue semantics, but he’ll go to his grave saying he loves her even more.

Her soft laugh catches his attention as he turns his face up to meet her eye. She’s smiling down at him, her eyes twinkling. “You’re like a cat,” she laughs again, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. Bucky has a sleepy smirk on his face as he nuzzles into her again, his hand framing her soft waist, holding her lightly.

“Can’t help it. You’re too comfortable,” he insists.

“You can just grab a pillow,” she tells him, but they both know she enjoys this just as much as he does. When he’s this close, his weight on top of her like it is, she revels in the feeling. Not just warm or content, but safe. Cherished. Loved.

She never thought this was possible, not really. Sometimes, when she’s looking back on the beginning, she worries it’s all in her head. That she’s deluding herself into being this happy. But then moments like this happen. Again and again. And she knows, without a doubt, it’s real. The unadulterated happiness she feels when she’s with him now, it’s nothing but genuine. She couldn’t help it even if she wanted to.

She used to resent herself for it. But she can’t anymore. She won’t. She cares for him. She loves him. Maybe more than she should. But who’s to say. And why should it matter? She knows he loves her just as much. They’re a match made by the fates.

His fingers flex against her waist as he fondles her softly. That sly cheshire grin on his lips cause a brow to quirk on her face as she waits for him to respond.

“You are my pillow. My favorite pillow,” he smiles unabashedly as she rolls her eyes at him, a hint of a smile of her own threatening to play on her lips. He laughs and lets his head rest on her once more, her fingers returning to his hair as they lay together.

It’s quiet again, save the low hum of the television playing. It’s peaceful. Calm.

She smiles as she realizes their breathing has synced. A minute passes and she hears a soft snore coming from Bucky as he naps on her. Gently as she can, not wanting to wake him, she leans her head down once more, placing another soft kiss on him.

His hand ever so slightly squeezes her supple flesh in his sleep as she plays with his hair.

She soon feels herself growing more and more drowsy, too. His warmth and weight lulling her. It isn’t long before they’re both sleeping easily, being held delicately by one another.

His hold on her a symbol of his softness for her, a reminder of the true Bucky, whose warmth was reserved for her alone. A promise to always keep her with him - cherished, safe, and protected. Her hold on him much the same. An unspoken promise of commitment - her care and love for him, despite it all, ceaseless.

(this gif is not indicative of what “reader” looks like.)

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

when one leaves, another arrives

pairing: neteyam x female omatikaya!reader, lo’ak x female omatikaya!reader

WC: 11.8K (she’s a big one)

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, r being emotionally messed up, lo’ak and r share a moment. should be it!

summary: when you lose someone close to you, you close yourself off from everyone else. except for one person.

A/N: i wrote this when i haven’t even seen the movie, only edits and clips on tt, so forgive me (i have now seen the movie by the time i’ve posted the fic). ITS FANFICTION LET ME WRITE WHAT I PLEASE!!! also neteyam and lo’ak are probably a bit ooc, but you know we only saw hints of their character in this movie, IM TAKING CREATIVE LIBERTY. also pretty much movie ages for our characters, r is same age as neteyam.

thank you to my lovely friend @alecmores​ for being my proof reader as always and leaving funny comments for me to giggle about. also if any na’vi is misspelled blame pandora wikifandom and the online na’vi dictionary.

reblogs are appropriated💗

been sitting in the drafts since feb25

masterlist

Numb

That’s all you felt, your whole body numb to the touch. Felt like you were floating, skin no longer touching the ground, only the stiff breeze that would ghost through you. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing at this moment.

Eclipse 

It taunted you as your eyes stared at the heavens above. Cold, wet tears streamed down your dull blue cheeks, while another dull blue face stared lifelessly at the darkened sky. Lifeless eyes that used to hold so much love and admiration within his glowing golden eyes.

Shaking

Your body was shaking, hands unable to stop the tremors that reached your fingertips. Lips quivering as you tried to hold back the scream that wanted to rip from your throat, the whimpers of pain that built up in your chest, and were just waiting for the scale to completely tip before you crumble.

The waves were crashing loudly against your boulder, it almost felt like they were shaking your rocky asylum. There were only four bodies stationed on the jagged stone along with a burning fire in the near distance. Everything felt like a realistic nightmare, something your mind conjured to tear you away from the sugary sweet dreams that you would slip into. But this wasn’t a nightmare or dream, this was reality. Something you constantly had to remind yourself before your brain could trick you into ignorance.

There was a ringing in your downturned ears that soon started to pick up choked sobs that flicked your ears at attention. You looked away from the darkened sky and down at your three companions.

Neteyam. Once alive and full of energy, gentle touches, and commanding tones were all left behind and just a corpse with his head laying on your lap was left behind. One hand cradled his cheek, wishing to feel movement or heat while the other brushed his braids, something you always did when he rested his head on your lap. You wished to see his easy smile one more time, just for a moment, you needed the image fresh in your brain.

Tsireya was the one quietly crying, her hands holding onto Neteyam’s legs. You wanted to comfort the girl, this is probably the first time she’s had to feel the pain of losing a close relationship, the Metkayina clan not forced to see the horror of war every day for the past few years. She was a sweet girl, a caring soul, she didn’t deserve to witness this pain.

Lo’ak was the last one of your group. He was staring toward the burning and drowning ship, you weren’t sure why, but taking note that Jake and Neytiri were missing, along with Spider, Kiri, and Tuk not around; the only answer you could think of was the ship. He dropped to his knees, eyes staring down at his dark red palms, palms covered in Neteyam’s blood as he tried to save him. He took another look at the ship before facing you and Tsireya.

“I- I have to- I have to help them.” Lo’ak took stuttering breaths.

You saw Tsireya shake her head, barely heard the pleas for Lo’ak to stay on the rock with the thre- with the two of you. But you knew Lo’ak, you knew that even if his dad told him to stay, he would follow him to the ends of Pandora, just like Neteyam did with him.

He knelt in front of the shaking girl, a hand coming up to hold her cheek for a second before he walked to you. Both hands rested at the side of your head, his fingers seeping into your braids with his extra finger touching your jaw.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” Neteyam used to tell you that all the time when he was allowed a position in the raids.

Lo’ak pulled your head forward and his lips met your forehead, and they were held there for almost a minute before he pulled away and jumped off the rock and into the crashing waves. Leaving behind two shaking and emotionally wrecked girls that held onto a corpse of a friend and loved one.

“He’ll be back,” you choked out to Tsireya, “they’ll all be back.” Reassuring the both of you, needing just that tiny bit of hope to stay above the dangerous waves. Your hand continued its comforting motion of pushing Neteyam’s braids from his face.

-

Pandora forest

Your feet jumped from branch to branch, the ground below leaving behind a trail of bioluminescent spots before they disappeared. Light chuckles floated from your parted lips and into the open air, the breeze able to carry the sound further out. The nightlife of the forest filled your ears, something you’ll never get used to, in a good way.

You slowed down after having ran and leaped for a while, needing a minute to take in your surroundings. Your chest moved up and down pretty fast with your mouth panting for air, and fists landing on your hips to rest. Your ears flicked at each little noise, but you were trying to find the specific sound you wanted to hear, nose twitching in the air for the right scent combo.

A twig snapped and you knew already you found him. You crouched down, body low to the bark as you followed the direction the noise came from, not wanting to spook your target. You jumped to a branch below yours and surveyed the surrounding flora. You grabbed your bow and nocked an arrow in the string and waited with bated breath for any new signs. Another twig snapped, the opposite direction you just came from, you were on high alert now.

You counted in your head, to keep your heart steady and to count when the next noise might occur. It wasn’t until twenty did another sound appear, this one much closer now. You thought you were ahead in the game but looked like you just lost so you put away your arrow and sat on the soft moss, waiting for the boy.

Lost in your thoughts, staring ahead into the open air, the feeling of two hands landing on your shoulders almost made you jump and that would end up resulting in your possible death due to gravity.

“I win.” A high-pitched voice spoke into your ear.

“Neteyam!” You twisted to look at his boyish grin, “don’t sneak up on me! I’ve told you multiple times!”

He just laughed at your raised voice and moved to sit beside you, thighs touching and fingers just an inch away from touching. You wanted to make a move but were too scared so you stayed content with your slim fingers ghosting near the other.

It was well past the eclipse and both you and Neteyam knew you shouldn’t be running around in the forest at night, but it was always so peaceful and sometimes the only time either of you could be alone together without parents or siblings hovering or clan duties getting in the way.

The two of you could just get lost in nature and each other and it was the most magical thing you got to experience.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” You voiced to the silence.

It took a minute before he responded, “nervous, but yes. I’m excited.” His pinky tapped yours.

Tomorrow a couple of young hunters would complete their iknimaya and finally earn their ikrans and then later that night they would go through uniltaron, the dream hunt. You originally were going to join Neteyam in the rites of passage, but you felt you weren’t prepared enough, so you decided to wait a bit longer. At first, you were embarrassed to tell Neteyam that you were going to take longer, but he reassured you that it was completely fine and that he was proud of you with either decision you made. It made your heart grow with love.

“Should probably head back. Long day ahead of you.” You stood from your seated position and threw your bow over your shoulders, waiting for Neteyam to follow your actions.

You looked down when you noticed he was still seated and to your shock he was already looking up at you, an easy smile adoring his stunning features. He did look like his mother, a stunning woman with a strong will and a loyal heart.

“What?” You whispered the question.

He gave a light shake of his head, his smile never fading, “nothing. Just… just appreciating.” And he grabbed his bow and stood up, eyes level with each other. Both standing at around six feet and a few inches, neither hitting your growth spurt yet. You don’t know how you’ll feel when Neteyam is taller than you one day, even if it's just by an inch or two.

The two of you stood face to face, no one talking, only watching. Eyes danced over the other's features, memorizing every stripe and every glowing dot gracing their blue skin. If you could freeze time, you would do it at this moment, not wanting to leave the quiet night. You so badly wanted to reach up and caress Neteyam’s cheek but held yourself.

Instead, you cleared your throat and broke eye contact, “race you home?” And the smile he flashed gave you your answer and you took off without a warning.

Giggles and shrieks of joy followed you two home all the way, music to your ears.

-

You were still numb, your ears were still ringing, and your stomach grumbled but you wouldn’t touch a single fruit. It still didn’t feel real, none of this felt real. The battle was over, the injured were being tended to, and families were reuniting with tears and hugs. But your family, your family was grieving and preparing for a funeral that none of you thought would come for many moons in the future.

You just sit in a corner with your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, your head resting atop the joints, staring into the void. You haven’t moved from the tiny spot since you all came back to your pod, Jake and Neytiri leaving with Neteyam’s body to bring to Ronal and have him prepared for his final living goodbye. Kiri and Tuk were huddled together in another area of the pod, Tuk sitting in her lap with Kiri stroking her hair and whispering soft words. Lo’ak sat outside with his feet in the water. He probably wished Tsireya was with him but she was pulled away by her family to help with preparations. You wanted to be there for him, someone needed to be there for him, he thought Neteyam’s death was his doing when it wasn’t; it was the sky people’s war that did it.

You finally found that bit of strength to move, Lo’ak needed someone at this moment and you knew Neteyam would want his brother to know that he loved him. With cracked joints you finally moved from your spot, arms wrapped around your waist for a phantom comfort and you walked slowly towards Lo’aks’ hunched figure. Your feet stop just a few steps away from him, just watching how his back muscles moved with his breathing, how his head would move slightly when he would focus on something else.

You didn’t say anything as you sat next to him. He didn’t say anything as his eyes took notice of your appearance. No one said anything, just two sets of golden eyes staring out at the dimming sky that was slowly dipping into the endless ocean.

You took the first step, one arm reaching out to gently touch the bicep close to you and then you slowly glided the hand down his arm until your palm fell atop his knuckles. Your four fingers settled in the open space between his five digits, a light squeeze was all you gave, but still no words.

“I’m sor-“ “It’s not your fault. None of it.” You immediately stopped him.

Silence once again.

Hands still touching.

Waves playfully pushing and pulling.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, Lo’aks falling atop yours after a second. Then you moved your hand off his and threw it around his waist with your other following, wanting to give him warm physical comfort. Knowing a hug was something he needed at this moment, to feel grounded, to feel loved, to feel seen.

An abrupt cough makes your head turn over your shoulders. Jake and Neytiri stood in the opening, both their faces littered with cuts and stitches, eyes darker and dull. You pulled away from Lo’ak and stood from your spot, walking over to the two taller na’vi.

“We must prepare.” Was all Neytiri said before holding her hand out.

- 

High camp

The air was thick with tension, everyone on high alert for the day, no, not just the day. Everyone has been on alert for the past two years.

The sky people have brought war back to Pandora, back to the Omitikaya people and your home. The demons bring fire to burn the trees and flora, to bring extinction to the animals that roam freely. Their metal weapons are much stronger than your bows, and many people die or are injured each day during a raid or battle.

Jake Sully is very high-strung, he’s quick to snap at someone out of line, and even more angered when the people he’s yelling at are his children. Neteyam and Lo’ak stand with their tails between their legs and heads tilted down, Neteyam receiving the harsher words that struck his heart.

You would watch from afar, hands rubbing your banshee in comforting motions as your heart broke at the pain written across their faces. You just waited, waited until Neteyam was dismissed by his father and he would head immediately to find you and distract you with his pretty smile.

“How is palï?” His own hands stroked down the side of her neck, soft purrs heard from her throat. You chuckled, “happy now that you are here.” Just like you were happier he was now with you.

Your smile dropped just a bit when you remembered a few minutes ago, “is everything…is everything okay?” His hand slowed then stopped before dropping to his side, eyes facing away from you.

“Just Lo’ak doing dumb shit again and me getting my head ripped off for not keeping a close eye on him.” “Hmm.”

Men and Women were moving to and fro in the caved holding. Some were slow with their heads bent down as they conversed with the person beside them, or warriors carried their bows with their heads held high as they rushed past everyone. People were going in and out of Mo’at’s tent, many exiting with wrappings covering wounds they gained during the war effort. You could hear the faint sounds of ikrans screeching in the distance mixed with the gleeful giggles of na’vi children.

“Would you like to go somewhere quiet?” You abruptly asked.

Neteyam’s ears twitched at your question, eyes widening just a bit but then softening with a tiny curve of his lips. A meek nod was all you needed before you wrapped a hand around his wrist and pulled him behind you and further into the cool mountain. It was a small area further back, the shadows helping in keeping the carved-out piece a secret to one who isn’t curious, but you were one curious cat.

Since your parent's passing, you would travel through high camp in silence, a ghost among the living just trying to survive by yourself. You lived with the Sully’s since they were like a second family to you, but being around them, seeing the love they have for each other and how much they care about everyone’s well-being, it just twisted your heart. So at night when everyone was asleep and the camp was quiet, you would sneak out and roam around, just needing to be alone and wallow in pain and you needed to find a place within the camp where you could step into the shadows and disappear just for a few hours. And you found it.

With Neteyam still being pulled behind by you when you abruptly stopped, his chest ran into your back making the both of you stumble for a moment. Light giggles escaped without thought before you reluctantly let your grip slide from his skin, but you didn’t get far before Neteyam reached out on his own and intertwined your hands together.

You felt warm all over at the simple action.

“Ma ‘teyam, I’ve- I’ve been missing you. As of late.” You dipped your head down, flustered at the sudden words leaving your mouth. It wasn’t a declaration of love, though it was in your ears.

“I’ve been missing you too, ma tanhì (my star)” Almost a whisper to the winds was his reply, but a whisper that blew near your ear making it twitch at the caressing touch.

Involuntarily your eyelids fluttered closed and a breathy sigh left your chest. The silence only grew in tension when a finger was hooked under your chin and pushed your face up, eyes focusing in on the speckles of glowing dots dancing along Neteyam’s face and body. Your own personal sky of stars to gaze upon.

“(Y/n), there’s something I’ve been wanting to confess to you for some time now. But it seems you gave me the perfect opportunity, and I will try to say the words before they evade my mind.” His thumb swiped over your chin, along with a swift feeling of him touching your bottom lip before it was gone too soon.  All you could do was tilt your head with your eyes firmly set on Neteyam’s, waiting intently to hear what’s been on his mind for this long.

He licked his lips, eyes moving side to side, “as you know it’s been a while since I’ve become one of the People.” Another simple nodding of your head, “I as well.”

“Yes. And we both have fashioned our bows out the branches of the home tree, both of us mighty warriors and aiding our clan in a time of crisis-” “Neteyam I’m well aware of these events. I’m living through them, along with them added to my songcord.” A mindless giggle showed your delight in this scene.

Neteyam gave a huff, “yes, yes. Now if you’ll allow me to speak before I lose my small ounce of bravery-” “Yes, sorry. Continue… sorry.”

A hand still twinged with yours and his thumb ran over the back of your hand, “Since we’ve become one of the People, and crafted our bows, the only thing left is to… is to find a mate.” You sucked in a breath.

He wanted to find a mate.

You understood, courting could take months and usually you’re not officially mated before Eywa until you are a full-fledged adult, so there was still plenty of time for the both of you. But hearing that he’s thinking of someone who he wants to court,  hurts like a knife being twisted between your ribs.

“Have… have you,” you had to swallow past the thump in your throat, “have you already chosen. The one you wish to begin courting?” You needed to step away from Neteyam’s intoxicating self.

You tried stepping away discreetly, but before you were even two steps away Neteyam pulled you right back in, even closer than before. Toe to toe, chest to chest, your whole body so close to touching but only an inch of air separated your bodies from molding together. The hold he had on your hand didn’t loosen, only held tighter, like he was scared you could run away at any moment. During this discussion, you wished to vanish into the forest and not come back until sunrise.

“I have. I’ve had my eye on her for years, long before my rites of passage. She’s very special to me, someone who’s been by my side through many of my hardships, lifting me back up to the light from the darkness I was walking towards.” His eyes stayed on your linked hand, “she is beloved by my family, each one of them having a special relationship with her already, so I don’t have to worry about them turning her away,” he breathed a laugh. “She is a fine warrior, her skills growing each day, and might even surpass my sa’nok (mother) one day.”

Neteyam took the final step. Hands squished between your bodies, your chest touching, and every breath you took caused your top to brush against Neteyam’s chest and move it out of place just a hair. Your breaths mingled with your lips in front of each other, it took every last bit of strength within you to keep your eyes trained on his face rather than his tempting lips.

“Neteyam-” “I hope you are understanding what I’m trying to say.”

Your will broke and your eyes dropped before meeting his eyes again, “I think it best if you say it aloud. I’m a bit thick in the head.” A comment Neteyam has made to you before.

He wetted his lips, “(Y/n), ma tanhì (my star), would you allow me the honor of courting you, to eventually in the near future, become my mate for life?” He almost vibrated with energy, nervousness or anticipation, or even both was your conclusion.

“Neteyam, ma atan (my light), I would cherish nothing more and it would be a pleasure to become your mate.”

-

The air felt still, thick that you almost suffocated from a simple intake of air. The water felt still, even though you rode on the back of your ilu, ripples following the creature. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, worried that even the most simple release of air would cause something further to shift in the world. But nothing worse could happen, not in your mind, your worst nightmare came true and you still can’t process it.

Jake and Neytiri were at the front of your group with Tuk seated behind her mother, Lo’ak and Kiri with Spider behind followed up the rear and you were at the very back. Everyone was painted with white stripes down their face, Neytiri fashioned with a woven headpiece and the necklace Neteyam wore when he died. A hand went to your neck, another intricate woven piece of jewelry that Neteyam would wear, it also happened to be the one he wore the night he asked to court you.

The tears dripped down your face, you didn’t make an effort to wipe them away, they would just keep coming.

Many of the Metkayina stood in the shallow waters of the Cove of Ancestors, further away from your family. You saw the familiar faces near the front, the Olo’eyktan and the Tsahík, both of them stood tall and held themselves high. You saw the tear-stained faces of Tsireya and Ao’nung along with Roxo just off to the side of the leaders.

The ilu tugging Neteyam’s leaf finally stopped at its designated spot, silently telling all of you that this was the end. Jake, Neytiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak slid off their creatures and into the water, treading themselves on each side of his body, his mother and sister on the left with his father and brother to the right. You so badly wanted to join them, wanted to touch the boy you loved so badly one final time before his body was taken away from the physical plane. But you stayed back, you weren’t his mate, you were just the girl he was courting, his girlfriend- something that Jake said was between the stages of friend and mate; you were just a friend that left their home behind for a boy that stole your heart and made you a part of a loving and protective family.

So it was just you, Kiri- who you thought should have joined the others but didn’t push her into it, and Spider who watched his blood-related family give their final caresses to his skin. The kisses to his forehead by Neytiri, the fingers reaching out to his for the hand that rested atop his shoulder then a feather-light touch to his cheek by Tuk, the hand that patted down Neteyam’s tied back braids by Lo’ak- something Neteyam used to always do on the younger boy, and Jake. Jake, who still seemed in shock, that he didn’t make for a comforting gesture.

Once Neteyam was free of the giant palm leaf, Tuk and Lo’ak moved further back to where the three of you stayed. Jake and Neytiri shared a look before taking their breath and diving under the water with Neteyam between them.

You slid off the ilu saddle and floated on the right side of Lo’ak, Tuk as always was beside Kiri if it wasn’t her mother. With the water stinging your eyes just a bit, you watched as Jake and Neytiri swam down, down, down until they were just above the glowing anemone and they released their hold on their boy. They kept themselves afloat while his body succumbed to gravity or the pull toward the Great Mother, and once they touched his deep blue skin, he was covered in golden glowing light before his body was completely gone.

If you weren’t submerged under water you knew the tears would be running at the speed of a waterfall, your nose clogging with snot, and your throat choking up causing hiccups and stuttering to your breath. With a glance to your left, the sight before you broke you even further. Lo’ak, with his left hand, held out for his brother to take, was choking out sobs that were silenced by the water, only the air bubbles leaving his open mouth told you of his cries to the Great Mother. 

Swiftly you reached out and linked your hands together, he needed someone to ground him from slipping away and you just needed to feel living flesh.

-

You couldn’t sleep, sleep had been avoiding you for weeks since your arrival to Awa'atlu, always tossing and turning on your mat. Eventually, you started to leave the mauri when the darkness would slip away through your fingers, finding yourself either sitting on the roped walkway with your feet swaying in the water or you would venture towards the sandy beaches and stare out into the open water.

You weren’t sure when he noticed your absence, but one night when you walked to the beach, you heard footsteps that were muffled by the grains on the floor and the push and pull of the water. Your heart rate picked up, you didn’t have any weapons on your person, and you chose to leave your knife with the others. But your panic died down when you saw the noise coming from someone who wouldn’t lay a harmful finger on you, but for sure would punch someone just looking at you wrong.

“Ma ‘teyam.” You all but sighed as he got closer.

He instantly pulled you into his arms, one arm around your waist and the other pushing your head into the crook of his neck. Your limbs wrapping tightly along his waist, your hearts beating as one, chest to chest. Fingers started to run through the free strands of your black hair, tiny circles by the pads of his digits.

“What is wrong ma tanhì?” He murmured by your pinned back ear.

You huffed a sigh, unintentionally tickling his skin, “sleep escapes me. No dreams enter my mind, only darkness and even that leaves me to my thoughts.”

He hummed, hands continuing their rhythmic motions, giving your bodies a light sway with the wind. Then he just stopped, hands landing on your biceps giving a light push away. His eyes held so much love within his tender gaze, “why don’t we go for a swim? We could star gaze, we haven't done it for a while.” And an instant smile split your face.

The two of you floated on your backs in the middle of the water, the water safe within the mauri pods. The quiet night was the only thing surrounding the both of you, the water was still with only a few ripples here and there causing a push to your bodies. Your backs floated atop the darkened water, hands clasped together to keep from drifting apart, braids and loose strands snaking around your heads as two sets of golden yellow eyes focused on the glowing stars above.

-

One Year Later

The memory vanished into the air from your mind, and the last thing you felt was your heart growing warm at the sight of Neteyam’s breathtaking smile before he pulled the both of you into the cool water.

Your legs were hugged to your chest with your thin arms wrapped around them tight, your chin digging into your kneecaps while your eyes stared out into the open water. You thought about going in, either to look at the stars as if he was floating beside you or to drown yourself and join him with the Great Mother. You knew the latter would win more in this situation, so you kept yourself grounded and forced your mind to go blank, the lull in the water helps.

You shifted a hand through the sand beside you, the texture feeling nice on your skin. Eventually, you got bored, but you didn’t want to head back, so you just laid down and let the scratchy grains cling to your skin and burrow into your hair. You turned on your side, back facing the homes with you facing the swaying trees, but you let your imagination run.

You pretended that you were lying beside Neteyam, both facing each other with only an inch of separate space. A hand from both of you resting in the middle, fingers doing a mindless dance of touching and curling, bringing smiles to your faces. You would move closer, your hand that lay on the ground would make contact with his stomach, and his muscles would flex automatically with the graze. Neteyam would move his head closer, a quick bump of your nose, giggles spilling from your lips. He would throw an arm over your waist, knuckles gliding along your back, and you would lift your hand from the ground, let your palm rest upon his plump cheek, and thumb would stroke the stripes decorating his skin. And you would clear the final milometer of air, lips a breath away, you would look into his piercing eyes and with all the bravery you could muster, would whisper the words only meant for his ears.

“Neteyam… ma ‘teyam… I see-”

“(Y/n)?”

Your hand dropped from the air and sunk into the cool sand, you didn’t even bother to turn and face the approaching voice, you already knew who it was. It was always you and one other person who would leave the home for hours and wallow in pain.

You felt his body heat, skin just barely flicking over yours. You felt his eyes on you, you knew they would drip with pity and pain for you, and you didn’t want it. You were a mighty warrior, you withstood your cuts and bruises and persevered in the battle, even your mental ones.

“(Y/n)... I’m here- I-” “Lo’ak. Stop.” You closed your eyes, the tears making a comeback. You still kept your back to Lo’ak, not finding the mighty warrior in yourself to withstand this battle, instead shrinking away from the fight.

He didn’t say anything again, you didn’t say anything again, and the silence enveloped the bubble. With the sound of shuffling you thought he got up and headed back to sleep, probably knowing how guarded you are these days, but he didn’t leave he walked around you and laid beside you.

With the past year, you’ve closed yourself off, built a stone wall high to the heavens, and wrapped around the world. Only allowing small slips into the cracks, sea shell collecting with Tuk, enjoying the flora and fauna with Kiri, weaving baskets and jewelry with Neytiri in the mauri, and you’ll do whatever you can find with Jake. With Lo’ak, there was something that pulled the both of you a tiny bit closer. Be it the Great Mother, grief, Neteyam, or all of it together, you and Lo’ak always found each other in times of comfort.

You peeked your eyes open, Lo’ak watching your every breath, an arm pillowing his head with the other hand in the open space. It felt weird that he was in the same position you imagined Neteyam, but you didn’t think anything of it.

“(Y/n), I miss him. I miss my big brother.” Lo’ak’s voice was small, cracking on the words him and brother.

You didn’t speak, something you often did these days, you just linked your sandy hands together. You gave a squeeze knowing it would silently say to him, ‘I miss him too’.

Before…everything, you were a pretty touchy person. At least when you were super close and comfortable around the individual. And because you were comfortable around the Sullys you would express your love through all forms, touch sometimes being the easiest with the quick access. But after- after he was gone, you reclined into yourself, like you were waining off the feeling of na’vi skin. But Lo’ak was someone you felt naturally drawn to just touch, and it made you hurt because you always felt that way about Neteyam. Sometimes you didn’t want to be separated for even a second, needing to have a finger touching or your tail grazing by his legs.

You were worrying a bit that Lo’ak might be taking your intimate moments, your touches as something they weren’t. You loved Lo’ak, but only as a brother. Neteyam always filled the spaces in your heart. Friend, partner, ‘girlfriend’… future mate, your future husband. No one could fill those holes, they’ll always be empty until you die.

“Have you visited?”

You blinked your eyes, focusing back on the present. Lo’ak was just watching you, waiting for some type of response to his question. You heard him, faintly, but still heard. 

You didn’t say anything, the quiet your nonverbal answer.

“I haven’t either,” his thumb ran over your knuckles, “I’m too scared.”

“Why scared?” A hushed whisper.

He shrugged, “might argue with me or something. Tell me it’s my fault, which is t-“

“False. Sky people are at fault.” A constant reminder from you to him.

Silence once again. Talking always takes too much energy for you.

“Would you be willing to visit him, together?” Lo’aks’s question drifted into the air. 

“When we are ready, we will go. Together.”

-

Two Years Later

“I would like to visit Payakan.”

Lo’ak sat up from his lying position and looked down at you, his head blocking the blinding sun rays. You just peered up at him, face completely neutral.

“W-why?” His feathered brows furrowed, “it’s not safe.”

You cocked your head, striped brow raised, “never stopped you before.” A ghost of a smile mixed with some teasing.

Lo’ak scuffed and rolled his eyes at the remark, but you saw the smile. He looked at the open water for a moment before looking back at you. You could see the tiny gears turning in his head, probably weighing some pros and cons to your proposal.

He stood up and held a hand out, his answer to your request.

With a firm grasp, you let him pull you to your feet, his growing muscles pulling you against the gravity causing a light crash with your chests meeting. His free arm wrapped tight around your back to keep you from stumbling, it caused your breath to stutter and get caught in your throat before you cleared it.

“Lead the way, mighty warrior.” A quirk of your head caused Lo’ak to move, arm off your waist but the hand still held in yours.

He called his ilu with a yelp and grabbed the saddle. You didn’t bother calling yours, you still weren’t the best at riding even after living here for two years. Neteyam usually helped with your teaching and would have you ride with him when going out. You didn’t bother with learning further, not wanting to explore without him.

“(Y/n),” Lo’ak grabbed your bicep, “come on.”

He slid on the saddle with you just behind. His left hand holding the bar tight before looking over his shoulder and tapping your thigh with his right hand, “hold on tight. Breathe deep.” And he went under.

The crystal clear water past the reef felt like a whole new world. Almost nothing for the eye to see except for a few rocks that broke the surface, but other than that everything was below the surface.

“Where’s Payakan?” You whispered in his ear, it twitched against your nose.

“Uh, should be around here. Sometimes he finds me before I do.” His head looked side to side, trying to find the giant tulkun in the vast ocean.

You wrapped your arms around Lo’ak’s abdomen and leaned your head between his shoulder blades. Your ear could faintly hear this heart beating as he touched your forearm with his fingers, his heart speeding up just a bit.

“Is Payakan friendly?” Voice slightly muffled.

“Yeah. As long as you don’t provoke him or offend him. But he’s my spirit brother, he’ll accept you happily.”

“The sea gives and the sea takes.” Words you heard from Tsireya during lessons.

Your heart lurched at the phrase. Lo’ak lost Neteyam to the rocky seas with a fire burning in the distance but gained a Metkayina spirit brother in the calm and clear seas. Eywa must keep a balance of life, but this wasn’t a balance.

“Oh! (Y/n), look!” He eagerly tapped your arm and pointed to the horizon.

In the blink of an eye, a tulkun appears before the both of you, its eyes watching intently. It made some noises of communication, out of happiness or a threat, you couldn’t tell. But Lo’ak happily slid from the saddle and swam beside his eye and gave a very open hug to the creature. Its eyes closed and hummed a higher pitch, happy.

“(Y/n), come.” Lo’ak held a hand out for you.

You quickly joined the two, Lo’ak’s hand moving to place yours along the tough skin of the animal. A smile was pulled at your lips, you weren’t sure why, but you didn’t think too hard about it. You felt extremely happy for the first time in two years and you’ll absorb the feeling into your bones.

“Payakan, this is (Y/n). She’s part of my family.”

“Hello. Lo’ak speaks very highly of you. I’m grateful for the opportunity to meet you.” Your hand moved in soothing circles.

Another higher-pitched hum, “he likes you.”

Your attention away from Payakan focused on Lo’ak. He sat on the floating fin, hips and lower half submerged in the water with his torso and up dry. He held a delicate smile on his lips, small indents on either side. His eyes which were already focused on you looked gentle, his lids dropped just a bit, and his golden irises held a tiny spark.

It caused a shiver to run along your spine.

-

Three Years Later

Your lower half sat in the shallow waters of the beach. Water pushing and pulling, lapping at your body giving a gravitational pull, a pull that you resisted each time. Your hands would dance atop the surface, palms skimming the pleasant texture and fingers doing quick taps that cause a tiny plop.

You watched with fondness as Kiri lay on her stomach with her body submerged below the clear waters. One arm kept her upper body from dropping into the sand while the other ran through the still grains. Something so simple and she was mesmerized, you loved it.

With a turn of your head, you noticed two figures further down the beach, one teal and the other blue. Tsireya and Lo’ak. They were sitting beside each other, you couldn’t tell much about their conversation, neither giving off blatant expressions. They seemed to be making jewelry or carving, maybe both, each doing their own thing while just wanting to enjoy the other's company.

They looked happy, at peace. You felt glad for them.

“They make a good couple.” Kiri’s sudden voice causes you to jump a bit. You just nodded, “they do. Maybe they’ll mate when older. He’s been into her since we arrived.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Everyone is tired and wishing for rest, hoping they grant uturu to your family. Neteyam and you automatically stand beside each other, fingers grazing as you walk to the formed crowd. With your curious eyes, you try and take in everything around you, from the people to the village, and it amazed you. And then with the perfect timing, you noticed a girl slipping into the water before making her way to the shores, and you heard a slight gasp. With a slight turn of your head, you noticed how Lo’ak couldn’t take his eyes off her, he was instantly fixated on the beauty.

You bumped your hand against Neteyam’s calling for his attention.

“It seems your brother has found a potential mate,” a quick chuckle, “if they allow.” Was all Neteyam followed up with.

“(Y/n), did you hear me?” Kiri’s fingers dug into your ribs.

You shifted away from a potential second attack, “no. Sorry, a memory came to mind.”

You ignored the eye roll she gave, “I said, but it seems like Lo’ak might have affection for someone new.”

A furrow came to your brows, “where are you hearing this? Do you not see the way he acts around Tsireya? He acts like a skxawng about… ninety percent of the time, and that’s just now. It used to be a bit higher.”

She licked her lips and her eyes dipped to the ground before meeting yours, “there’s something different…in the way, he looks at- his eyes hold something when he gazes upon you.” You couldn’t believe the words leaving Kiri’s mouth, “his eyes hold something when he gazes upon you.” She was wrong, simply wrong.

“You are wrong.” You shook your head at her absurdity, “Lo’ak doesn’t see me as anything other than another sister.”

She huffed, “(Y/n), I don’t know if you ever knew this, but when Lo’ak was younger he would tell me how he admired you. You probably thought nothing of it, but he would try to follow you around like a lost direhorse. I noticed the tiny scowls that came upon his face when Neteyam would steal away your attention. Plus he’s the only one you’re physically affectionate with besides-“

“I’m affectionate with all of you. Neteyam was extra special in my heart, he was my promised mate.” You started to get defensive.

She placed a hand on your shoulder, “yes, I understand. I just notice how the two of you hold each other in the night, Lo’ak holds you firmly to his chest with his arm over your waist and you will have your face tucked under his jaw.”

Your ears twitched, “I’m just trying to say, be careful. The both of you. Someone is gonna get hurt, and we’re just starting to heal our wounds.” Were her last wise words before standing up and walking away.

-

Three Years and Five Months Later

“I want to go to the cove and see Neteyam.”

You turned your head to the side, and bits of sand scratched your skin. Lo’ak kept his eyes on the sky, hands clasped over his stomach. You looked away when he didn’t meet your gaze.

“You are ready?”

“Not really, but I need to see him again.” It seemed like he had more to say so you waited, “are you ready?”

This time you knew he looked at you, the movement caused your ears to twitch at attention.

“No. But his face has started to blur and I lost the sound of his voice, his laugh. I miss it all, so it must be time.” You pushed off the ground and hunched over your legs.

His hand touched your back and you flinched before relaxing. Kiri’s words from a few months ago echoed in the back of your head. “If you are not ready, we can wait. You said we would go together when the both of us are ready. I’ll wait for you.”

You peeked at Lo’ak, something about that last part struck a chord with you. You see how his brows were raised just a bit and pinched in the middle, eyes open and clear. Full of understanding and love.

You fear Kiri’s words are becoming true.

You licked your lips, “we’ll go to the cove.” And you instantly stood up and walked away, Lo’ak following a step behind.

The both of you trod water for a bit once you reached the spirit tree, fully realizing that you're finally gonna see Neteyam again after three years. With a look to Lo’ak and a nod from him, the both of you took a breath and dove under and down.

As you stared at a tendril you started to think maybe you weren’t ready to see him, but with your hand being tugged by Lo’ak, you pulled your queue from behind your back and let the moving tendrils be pulled closer until they connected with your mind.

..

You were back in the forest.

It was midday, and the bright sun held high in the clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight. The grass was a luscious green, soft beneath your bare and calloused feet. Helicoradian and Octoshroom stood at their tall heights, you hit a few helicoradian causing them to shrink in on themselves which brings a laugh of joy out of you.

You walk to the stream where you and Neteyam would usually hang out during the day when both of you were free to escape. As you get closer the sound of the rushing water causes your heart to speed up just a bit, you’ve missed that sound for a while without even knowing.

When you entered the clearing, pushing a few low hanging leaves away from your face, your breath caught in your throat and you almost tripped over an unseen root. Head popping away from the rushing water and in your direction, Neteyam.

He hasn’t aged a day, which, obviously. But it just causes you to freak out a bit, you’ve grown three years, would he see you as past you or present you?

But focusing back on the boy you’ve missed so much. His usual head of braids, feathers, and beads were missing, just a curtain of dark black strands falling over his face and shoulders, it must have been a washing day. He’s also free of a necklace and armband, you notice his knife and bow are near the banks.

“(Y/n), come join me!” His voice made your chest rumble. Has it always been this deep?

“No tricks?” You stepped closer.

“No tricks,” he echoed back.

“Are you naked?” Hands at your hips.

He rolled his eyes, “obviously. Will you hurry up?”

“Nìhoet (perv), turn around first, skxawng.”

“We are to be mated, I’m allowed to see.”

“Not for a while, ‘evengan (boy). Turn.”

He put his hands up in surrender and turned, his toned back showing off his defined stripes. Quickly you stripped yourself of your feathered top and loincloth and rushed into the water with a splash.

You swam up to Neteyam who turned around at your disruption to the quiet. You kept your body under the water with just your head peeking free, your hair a halo behind you.

“I’ve missed you, oeyä sayrìp (my handsome).” A hand touched his cheek before pushing the free hair away. Needing to see all of him.

A hand fell atop the one resting on his cheek with his free one sitting along your jaw, thumb gliding with your stripes as his other three fingers dug into the root of your hair.

“I’m right here, oeyä sevin (my pretty).”

You teared up at that. He says he’s right there, but he’s not. You can’t touch him or converse with him whenever you choose to, you have to make the journey to the spirit tree now just to see figments of memories you had with him. And it seems he doesn’t even know he’s dead, so you can’t tell him these qualms you have.

“Ma tanhì, what hurts you?” Both hands hold your face, caged in his clasp.

You hold his wrist and close your eyes, the tears leaking from your waterline and down your cheek. You feel him wipe them away. You have to bite your lip to compose yourself.

His lips kiss your forehead, they linger and it breaks you even further. He pulled away and you said the words that have been lingering on your tongue.

“Ma Neteyam, Oel ngati kameie (i see you).”

He smiled, that easy smile you always loved seeing, “I know.” And he pulled you close with the hands still on your face, and pressed his lips against yours.

-

Your eyes peeled open.

All you saw was the bright light of the tree with your queue still attached before you pulled it free. You turned your head to the left where Lo’ak was floating, he still seemed to be connected, his eyes closed and hand still held firmly in yours. You bit the skin of your bottom lip and squeezed your eyes shut.

This was the reason you waited to visit because you knew that when you saw him again, it would break you like the first time. He didn’t get enough time with you, with his family, with himself. It wasn’t fair, this was the cruelest thing Eywa has ever done to you.

With a pull to your arm, your legs automatically began scissor kicking you back to the surface. You took a gulping breath when you broke the surface, droplets of water running into your eyes and on your mouth, and your ears almost felt clogged. You pushed your heavy limps back to the ilu, biceps straining with the sudden weight before flopping on the saddle, ready to leave.

“You okay?” Lo’ak asked as he saw beside the animal, left hand on the saddle while his right touched your knee.

You looked away before making eye contact, “just tired.” Both emotionally and physically.

Lo’ak watched you but didn’t say anything, he just climbed in front of you and told the animal to go home.

When you reached the shore you quickly climbed off and walked away, needing to be completely by yourself and allow yourself to wallow or break down or just stare at nothing. You just wanted to be alone. But of course, with Lo’ak, he’ll come chasing after you.

“(Y/n). Come on, we should head home.” And when his hand grasped your wrist, you exploded.

With a blind rage in your heart, you barred your fangs and released a hiss from deep within your chest. He let go of you and you stepped away before running into the trees. The instant regret took away a bit of the fire in your heart, you’ve never bared your fangs at any of the Sullys, even in playful moments.

As you walked through the small jungle area of the island you scrubbed your hands over your face, trying to erase any evidence of your tears. Cheeks flushed with your blood rushing and eyes touched with a red hue in the whites, chest heaving with hiccuping breaths and your ribs hurt with every few beats. Finally, your knees just gave out causing you to collapse to the floor, a deep growl building in your throat.

With a scream, you cried to the Great Mother, begging and pleading for Neteyam to come back. As exaggerated as it sounds, you needed Neteyam to breathe, to live. He unknowingly gave so much purpose to your life, you planned a future with him, you talked about children when you were ready. Pandora doesn’t have the same vibrant colors you use to see every waking day, it doesn’t hum with the high-pitched energy that you felt in your bones. Everything was dull and gray, the food tasted bitter on your tongue.

In your moment of heaving air and pleading to the air, arms snaked around your waist and pulled you in tight against a solid chest. You indulged for just a moment, pretending it was your beloved, but the voice snapped the trance.

“Just pretend,” he kept his voice low, “pretend you are in his arms. Say the words to free your heart.”

Your cries died off, your brows furrowed at his words. You tried to turn your eyes on him, but he removed a hand from your waist and draped them over your eyes, blocking out everything unimportant. You heard the water crashing, the wind brushing the leaves and grass, and your ears twitching with every breath that touched the sensitive skin. His skin was a warm comfort, chest pressing with every breath released, the pads of his fingers just a bit rough from time, the arm still holding your waist was a welcome weight.

“Talk to me, ma… ma txe’lan (my heart).” A nice pet name, but you heard the hesitance, and ignored it.

You touched his forearm, “ma ‘teyam… how I yearn for you day and night. Fruits aren’t as rich and juicy, the sky isn’t as bright and clear, and the children’s shrieks of joy aren’t as full in my heart. You were the air I breathed each second and now with you gone, I feel like I am suffocating. So right now I am angry at you. You had to be the fucking fkew tsamsyiu (mighty warrior)! I- I know how Kiri and Lo’ak- how they care for the human, Spider, but- you couldn’t be selfish or- or pull Lo’ak away. You couldn’t say no, he- Lo’ak, has such a soft spot in your txe’lan. And I know, I know already, I’ve told him plenty of times, it is not his fault. He just wanted his friend back, I understand. And- and I understand your actions, your family was in danger- our family was in danger,” you heaved a breath, “I- I am not angry with you, I’m angry with the sky people. They can’t leave us alone, touching and violating our home and destroying every beautiful gift Eywa has blessed us with. We should have been able to grow old… grow a lor (beautiful) family in the forest. We would teach them the way of the bow, grow them into fkew tsamsyius or zeykoyus (healers), and they would learn from Mo’at.” Your body slumped, and energy vanished.

Lo’ak felt the tears but didn’t speak, only kissed your temple. The kiss lingered and then another kiss near your ear, another to your cheek, a fourth one to your jaw that lead to a few more. You felt him turn your head, both hands touching your neck, you didn’t dare open your eyes, too lost in the spell to break it just yet. With your hands moving to take hold of his biceps, you felt the breath of air ghost your lips.

“Please,” you begged with your heart.

His lips pressed to yours hesitantly, waiting to see if you’ll push further or break away. You tilted your head just a bit, granting better room for your lips to properly move together. And within those few seconds of kissing, you knew. You knew that the spark that was usually there every time has disappeared, telling you that this wasn’t your Neteyam and that you couldn’t see Lo’ak in any other way than as a friend, a brother.

You pushed away, shame filling your blood. ‘You shouldn’t have done this’ ‘This wasn’t fair to Lo’ak’

“I am sorry. I- I shouldn’t have…” “(Y/n), would you mate with me?”

Your head snapped to Lo’ak, eyes wild with confusion at his sudden question. He looked serious, with no hint of mischief within his glowing eyes. His hands still held a firm hold on your neck, his fingers grazing your skin. His ears were pressed to his skull, awaiting some type of answer from you.

“I- I… why would you ask such a question? Whe- where is this coming from?”

He licked his lips, “Neteyam would want you happy. He would want you to have that family, to grow old with someone who cares for you as he did.”

‘No one could care for me as Neteyam did’

“It hurts to see you in pain and I would do everything in my power to take it away-” “You do not like or love me, Lo’ak. You are just confused, I have confused you.”

He shook his head, “no, no. I do, I do like you. I hold love for you that can grow with time-”

“Lo’ak! Stop this!” You wretched free of his hold, “mating is a serious affair. You should not be proposing this pairing just because I have lost my promised one. You say that you are doing this because Neteyam would want me happy, but what about you? Would this union bring love into your life every time you think about it? Because you are blinded by- by our- by my unintended intimacy. I have taken advantage of your comfort, I have twisted your thoughts. You do not love me. You do not see me.”

“Oel ngati kameie, (Y/n). I do,” Lo’ak tried to reach out to you.

You shrunk back, “do not throw those words around worthlessly!” Your arms wrapped over your stomach, “Lo’ak, I know that you had some type of- of feelings for me when we were younger. Kiri mentioned it to me. And with time I assumed they faded because when we arrived here you were instantly transfixed with Tsireya. I saw how your eyes followed her movements, your brows raising, the- the greeting you said to her that caused giggles to spill from her lips. I could feel that this was something more. And when our training started I saw how nervous she made you, how she said your heartbeat sped up every time she touched you, the both of you sharing dazzling smiles. Tsireya makes you happy, Lo’ak.”

A sigh left your lips, “do not throw your happiness away because of me.” Lo’ak tried to take a step towards you but you backed away, throwing a hand up, “I think it best if we are away from each other for a while. I- I need to heal properly and you need to rid yourself of these thoughts for me and focus on spending time with Tsireya again.”

-

Four Years Later

“Fkew Tuktirey! A glorious catch! The family will be proud.” You shifted her head of braids, her laughs filling the air.

The two of you trudged back to your mauri pod, Tuk holding the fish she was able to catch. She’s grown so much in four years, now age eleven and standing at shoulder height, it brought tears to your eyes, she was already starting to be confident and outgoing. Neteyam would be so proud of her.

As she ran ahead into the home you could faint voices having a conversation, voices talking loudly and over each other. You were worried someone was getting yelled at, but when you walked in it was a different scene than what you expected.

Near the entrance, Jake and Neytiri were seated on the ground, smiles brightening their faces in glee. And you noticed that two other bodies sat across from them, Tsireya and Lo’ak, their hands clasped beside their thighs. They all looked up at your and Tuk’s interruption to the home, but no smiles faltered at the intrusion.

“Sa’nu! (mom) Sempu! (dad) Look at the fish I caught with (Y/n)!” She hopped her way over to her parents. They both gasped and applauded her catch, Jake pulling her into his lap, pecking her face in quick kisses causing her to laugh. It was a joyful sight to behold.

“This will make for a wonderful dinner tonight. A celebration of two!” Neytiri boasted. You cocked your head, “what’s the other occasion?”

You took note of Jake and Neytiri sharing a look and Tsireya and Lo’ak doing the same, you and Tuk were the only two out of the loop. It wasn’t until Tsireya gave a simple nod that Lo’ak turned to you, “Tsireya and I are to be mated.” Tuk shrieked in delight before leaping to the couple for hugs.

“I always knew the two of you would come together,” a declaration heard by everyone but meant for Lo’ak. “You were always wise, (Y/n),” then suddenly Lo’ak did the gesture, hand to his forehead before dropping. I see you. The others might have thought it weird, but it meant a lot to you, Lo’ak finally understood you.

“Oh, Tsireya, I can’t wait for you to be an official family member!” Your arms are thrown over her shoulders. The two of you giggle with infectious joy and wiggle your bodies with buzzing energy. 

-

Four Years and Two Months Later

The waves crashed and cried, the thundering in your ears almost a welcomed melody at this point. The blazing sun of the late afternoon warmed your skin in a nice hug, and gentle kisses to your cerulean stripes.

Your back sunk into the grains of sand on the beach, the shade of a palm tree leaves bringing relief to your face. Your eyes were closed in peace with lips slightly parted to release puffs of air, hands clasped over your stomach as it rose and fell. With your hair free of braids and the wind blowing, your jet-black strands would tickle your chin or nose, a crinkle forming to stop an incoming sneeze.

Almost slipping into a calming slumber you missed the soft steps heading your way on the beach, the wind and water covering the tracks. It wasn’t until a crunching noise grew louder that you heard the sigh of someone beside you. So you peeled an eye open and in the corner you saw-

“Lo’ak. Did you need something?” You just closed your eye and waited for an answer from him. Body stays in its tranquil state.

He didn’t say anything, you only heard shuffling on his part. But you waited, letting him collect his thoughts since it’s been a while since the both of you have been alone together. It was nice to be around him again, but you knew it was for the best, for both of you.

There was a graze to your forearm and it made you tense up, the touch unwelcomed. You didn’t push him away, just turned your head and stared at the boy- the man before you. Your golden eyes squinted at his quiet demeanor, knees pulled up and head bowed with his braids falling over his shoulder and shielding his face.

“Lo’ak,” he jerked his hand away like you burned off fire, “why have you come here? It is best if we are away from each other.”

His head moved, “I’ve missed my old friend. Missed sitting in silence with you and just keeping each other company as we mourned for Neteyam. Missed having you join me when visiting Payakan, he misses you as well,” a quick laugh, “and I- I just missed being with you.”

You let the words sink in, digesting and absorbing every syllable and word. “I have missed you too, Lo’ak.” A simple confession. You saw the tiny smile on his face.

“Are you excited to be mated with Tsireya?” Wanting to have an easy conversation.

Lo’ak looked out into the clear waters, “yeah. I’m lucky she accepted me, flaws and all. She’s so perfect and gentle and sweet with everyone she meets, always having my heart squeeze with admiration for her. And she chooses me, reckless and carefree Lo’ak who’s always doing shit to get me into trouble or danger. The perfect girl chose the disappointment. It is almost like a dream.” His fingers twiddled, pulling at the joints or tapping fingers together.

“You are not a disappointment, Lo’ak.” A poke was sent to his thigh for his attention, “your family loves you very much. And, yes, some of the things they have said to you haven’t been the nicest, but they bubbled from a place in their heart from fear of losing you.”

He looked away, hands still fidgeting so you pulled the closest into your grasp as you continued speaking, “and you say you are lucky for Tsireya choosing you, but she is also the lucky one. She looks at you like you hung every star that sparkles in the night sky, you pull laughter from deep within her chest, her heart. She touches you with a fragile air, hands always clasped between your bodies or caressing your cheek as she gets lost in your eyes. I see all this from far away. And- and I envy the both of you.”

Lo’ak opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him still needing to speak your mind, “I am so happy that you are able to have this love in your life. You truly deserve the best Lo’ak and being with someone who makes your days brighter and heart lighter, Eywa has given you a great blessing.”

You saw his eyes gloss over with water forming and his tongue popping out to lick his lips. You said all that needed to be spoken, so now you let him understand your words and waited for anything to be said from his side. With his hand still in your hold you ran your thumb over his knuckles.

“(Y/n), I know these are probably the words you don’t wish to hear, but I too need to speak my mind as well.” His eyes bore into yours. You had a guess as to what he was going to say, but just nodded your head and let him speak.

“I did like you. When we were younger and I saw you in action for the first time, it was like Eywa crafted you with such care and precision. I was in awe, but Neteyam got to you first, so I kept a certain distance when it came to you. But when… when he died… I felt- I felt just a bit of hope that- that- I don’t even know now. But I do want to say… you were right. Us being separated helped clear me of confusing thoughts and feelings and allowed me to focus on the one who loved me right away.”

-

Four Years and Nine Months Later 

The beach was crowded. Every resident of Awa’atlu was present and dressed in their finest for the union of Tsireya and Lo’ak, the first pairing of different clans. Tonowari and Ronal along with Jake and Neytiri stood to the side of their children, and their siblings at the front of the crowd. You stood between Kiri and Tuk, a hand in both of yours.

You watched and listened as Ronal stepped forward, with her being tsahík she was the one to officiate the wedding, giving her blessings and wise words from Eywa. You saw the smiles pulling at the parents' mouths and the tears welling in their eyes, their children have grown up.

Tsireya with her hair intricately fashioned with beads and shells, her top that shimmered with pearls covering every inch of skin, but her smile and teary eyes were the most beautiful part of her. Her ever-expressive face showed that she was excited to spend the rest of her life with the man standing before her, ready to start a family with him in the future when they are further into adulthood. Excited to wake up every day to his face and arms wrapping her tight to his chest and falling asleep every night to the feel of his chest moving with every breathe and feel the light kisses he would place upon her hair or forehead before mumbling how he loves her and wishes her a good night.

With Lo’ak it looked like he was holding himself back from jumping into Tsireya and tugging her into a steering kiss. He wore a newly woven armband with a feather attached and an Omatikaya cummerbund, almost like his final goodbye to the forest before he gets his tattoos of the Metkayina warriors in due time. He held her hands tightly, thumbs constantly moving to show his nerves and excitement. His smile was ginormous, it was pushing his cheeks high and causing his eyes to squint, it was adorable. His tail was swinging side to side in a rapid movement and his ears were perked high, listening to every word being spoken by Ronal. His eyes shine with love, probably thinking of getting to kiss his mate whenever he wants, day and night nothing would stop him from a quick peck or a passionate melting of lips that caused hands to wander. He’ll enjoy all the loud and quiet moments in their home, just enjoying the other company as they do their own tasks. He’ll talk about his day over dinner and she listens with focused ears and watchful eyes.

The loud cheers of the crowd snapped you from your daydreaming, imagining you and Neteyam’s future.

Tsireya and Lo’ak share a kiss before the clan, their joining of queues and mating before Eywa would take place away from the eyes of others.

With a feast held in their name, everyone was in high spirits. The music was flowing and people were dancing, the food was cooked to perfection and in abundance, and the drinks splashed causing people to let loose. You clapped, cheered, and laughed with your new clan, your new home. Conversing with people your age and allowing yourself to make new friends.

When the eclipse was high in the sky you excused yourself from the festivities and walked to a secluded part of the beach.

As you lay on the beach with your hands behind your head and eyes staring up at the sky, you yearned for him once again. Yearned for his warmth and his touch, his voice and laugh. Yearned for the domestic life you envisioned yourself to have with him, imagining your children squealing and running amuck, but bringing endless light and joy to your lives, as he’d done to yours.

With almost five years passed since his departure, everyone has healed most wounds. There were still cracks and tears within your hearts that might never mend, but you knew that Neteyam was watching all of you. He would be smiling and almost shocked that Lo’ak mated before him, but he would be happy because he knew his little brother deserves every ounce of love. Neteyam would be happy that everyone is living their lives happily and growing more into themselves, with great love filling their bones.

And with that knowledge, he’s happily waiting with Eywa until his family can join him on the other side.

...

[sageandlily]

September 2023 Favourite Reads (Ateez edition)

🍁 Hi! September suprisingly ended quite fast and here are my fanfic recs that i have been spend reading for last month. I wish that both the stories and the writers (who are amazing, beautiful and talented!) gets more recognition and appreciation. Speaking of appreciation, i wanted to apologize to the writers for rarely engaging in the fic (reblog/comment) bcs quite frankly, i'm a bit shy to reaching out but started from now, i'll try my best to engage with you all😁🧡.

🍁Also if you have any fics recs or wanted to promote your own story then don't be shy to interact with this post (reblog/reply/whatever you want)!

(sorry for the grammar error, english is my 3rd language so sometimes my brain was a bit fuzzy on how some sentences supposed to be written😵‍💫)

The Crown Prince (San x reader) by @atxxzist

As a sucker for kingdom and fantasy story setting, this one immediately caught me by just the summary.

Room With A View (Yeosang x reader) by @stayteezdreams

This fic just radiates warmth and i wish somebody would throw me a letter in paper plane 🥹

Butterflies (🔞Mingi x reader) by @hwaslayer

This is just so homey and super cute. Also, i believe that Mingi in real life would act like that towards his daughter (if he decided to have one)

The Champion (San x reader) by @daybreakx

Ateez x Harry Potter fic?? please sign me up real quick! bcs without a blink, i'd read it. Also, slytherin San as triwizard champions?? pheww😮‍💨

Inception *on going* (🔞Poly!OT8 Ateez x reader) by @remedyx

I was so immersed by the story to the point that i created a moodboard for the worldbuilding. Any kingdom based story with dragon in it will always catch my attention quickly. Please check this one out!

Wonderwall *on going* (🔞Poly!OT8 Ateez x reader) by @atzfilm

The author is one of my fav ateez fanfic author here in tumblr so when i saw that they wrote a new story, i immediately check it out and ofc i'm in love with the way the story was written. Can't wait for the new chapter update! (also Soobin😭)

Siren's Spell *on going* (🔞Wooyoung x reader) by @spooo00oky

I accidentally found this fic in my for you page and i got hooked. I love how every character was written and how easy it is to get immersed in the worldbuilding. I love Wooyoung so much and i can't wait to see how their story continue

Project D (🔞Hongjoong x reader, Yunho x reader) by @setsugekka

If you like street racer, bad boy, rollercoater dynamic between reader and both men?? then please read this one. I have no words to describe it but it was sooo good! must read!

Stay (🔞Yeosang x reader) by @sorryimananti-romantic

Archer Yeosang?? princess reader?? count me in immediately!! i just love the dynamic between them. This fic genuinely made me feel a lot of emotions and now i wish i could encounter Yeosang while i'm out in the wood irl

Thank you for checking this post and i hope that i could make post like this every month until 2023 end. See you🧡

[silenzahra]

The content that I'm bringing next ✨

I thought I could give you a hint of the content I'm preparing in order to bring it during this week and next month! I'm taking my time to create it all, so that's why it's not gonna be posted right away, but I hope you'll like to read everything as I share it! 💖

I'll start with some regular posts and then I'll focus on my writing 🥰

-Get to know me. I mentioned a while back that I thought it'd be fine to share a little bit of myself with you so you can get to know me a bit better, and I'm currently working on this one and trying to think of as many things as possible so as to make it, you know... interesting? 😅 I don't really know how to describe it, but in any case, it's in the works!

-A masterpost. Just like the first one, I also mentioned that I'd like to create one at last, as I've posted a few stories and two headcanon posts already, and I want you guys to find them as easily as possible whenever you'd like to. This is gonna take a bit longer, because Tumblr's search tool doesn't work very well 😬 But I'll manage! 💪

-My pending asks. This is a bit embarrassing... I've had some asks waiting for a reply for months now and I'm so sorry that I've kept you waiting for so long 😅 Here's a promise: as soon as I've posted at least one of my pending fics (more about this below), I'll start gradually and slowly answering all the asks that I have left. I wanna give each and every one of you the proper replies you deserve, which is why I warned that I'd take some time, but that's one thing. Taking forever is very different and I'm truly so sorry 😅

-May and June calendars. Don't know if you've seen some of my calendar posts, but I happen to have two Nintendo calendars for this year and I've been showing them since January (here's the February one since I can't find the others lol), but sometimes I simply forget to share the one for the new month and it gets delayed... Shame on me again 😅 I intend to show May this week since it's technically still May, and I'll make sure to not let many days of June pass before I show the ones corresponding to that month 🥰

-Tons of reblogs! I've already started doing this actually, as I've been tagged in a lot of amazing content, and even if I'm slow, I wanna see everything and leave proper feedback when I have the chance 🥰 Thank you again to those of you who tagged me! And for your patience as well 🫂💖💖

And now... let's talk about...

✨📝 MY WRITING 📝✨

-My Kitsune/Tanooki story. This one is coming soon, and when I say soon, I mean this week! 😁 I would've liked to post it mid May, but life wouldn't let me, but hey, better late than never! 🥰 I'm now in the process of editing and I intend to start translating tomorrow, and that usually doesn't take long, so you can expect this one at the end of the week 👀 Hope you'll like it! 💖

-Anything for him: Chapter 3. As I've mentioned a few times, this last chapter is long overdue and I'm ashamed that I'm taking SO long to finish it as I know very well what's going to happen! 😅 Still, once my Kitsune/Tanooki fic is up, this is the next thing I intend to fully work on, and even though I'm not sure to give a specific date, I would like to post it in June at last. Wish me luck in achieving this! 🤞🤞🤞

-Post-nightmare cuddles fic. Okay, it's been a few months already, but... anyone remember this writing prompt? I happened to receive a couple of suggestions in my inbox, and even though I wrote and posted the first one back in March, I wasn't able to finish the second one as I wasn't in the mood for angst when I first tried. But that's changed! 🤩 I'm CRAVING to write some angst, so this is gonna be the third thing on my writing list, and, again, I'd like to post it in June. I'll let you know if I succeed! 🤞🤞🤞

Also, if you're curious, you can read the other prompt here 👇

-And last but not least... did anyone say...

... an AU? 🤔

Yyyyyyes! That's right! 😁 I've recently started working on my very first AU and I am SO happy 🤩 I'm really SO excited about this one! I don't know yet how long it'll take until I'm ready to start posting it, but this is the thing that I mentioned yesterday that I keep getting new ideas for almost every single day 🤩

I'm not gonna say yet what it's based on, as I want it to be a surprise when I finally start sharing it with you guys, but it contains EVERYTHING that I love and that many of you love as well, so... I believe you'll like this one when it's ready 🤭 Maybe when I work a bit more on it and see a release date coming closer I'll go and tell you what it's about, but for now... I'll just keep working on it and enjoying every single word that I'm writing 😁

I really hope you'll like all of this once I start sharing it! As you see, I'm a big fan of making lists 😂 That's the way I usually organize everything that I have to do every day and such, and I thought that maybe sharing this, I'll have it a bit easier to focus and really bring all of it to this blog, even if I'm slow. Still, just know that I'm truly enjoying the process of creating not only the written fics (and the AU 🤭), but also the posts that I wanna bring soon 🥰

If you read everything, thank you! I know I tend to talk a lot lol, so I really appreciate it! Love you so much! 💖💖💖

[evcrgardn]

promise

jake sully x fem!navi!reader

genre: fluff

note: i wrote this in a day bc the idea is just so cute that i had to get it out immediately! will edit this when i have the time but enjoy this for now! + reblogs are appreciated!

.・゜゜・ It was almost eclipse yet Jake still hasn’t returned from training young warriors of the clan. He promised you he’d be home in the afternoon so you could spend more time together. You looked forward to it since he has been really busy these days. Being the Olo’eyktan, he had to make sure that everything in the clan is going well. Therefore, you never really had time with him alone this week despite sharing a home.

You sigh as you chopped the fruits into pieces, placing them into a wooden bowl. You weren’t sure if you’re being immature. You knew how heavy the role of a clan leader is, but you were really excited about your supposed date that you even handpicked Jake’s favorite fruits that you both could enjoy. You missed him a lot, that’s why you were upset over him breaking his promise.

All of a sudden, as if Eywa has heard you sulking, you turn your head to the entrance of your pod, meeting Jake’s eyes as he walks in. Should you be happy that he finally came home or remain upset because he broke his promise? Of course you were happy, but you thought you shouldn’t show him that yet.

You rolled your eyes at him, hoping it’s believable enough to show him how upset you are. You then shifted your gaze back to the chopped fruits you were preparing. Jake chuckles, finding it adorable rather than intimidating. You feel him walking towards you, crouching down and leaning to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Hi,” he whispers, yet you did not respond, giving him only a nod to acknowledge him.

“Missed you,” he whispers again, giving you another kiss on the cheek. You’re supposed to be mad at him, yet you are being swayed by his actions, getting butterflies in your stomach. Still, you tried your very best to look upset. “Do not talk to me,” you said in a serious tone.

Jake takes a seat beside you. He noticed how you were preparing his favorite fruits, how you left your hair unbraided (which he likes a lot!), his heart melting but at the same time, he was feeling guilty. You were really looking forward to that date he promised.

"Babe, I'm sorry," he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You broke your promise. I waited for you."

He then pressed soft kisses on your shoulder. He's trying to tickle you, amused that you're still not giving in when usually, you'd be laughing the moment his lips touch the skin of your shoulder.

"Let's not fight, yawne," he says in a soothing voice, making it harder for you to stay mad at him. "I'm sorry for making you wait." He lifts his head up and takes your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. "You have me all to yourself tomorrow. We can spend the whole day together"

Jake smiles at the way your eyes lit up when you looked at him. "The whole day? But you–"

"I got everything done today. We trained really hard the whole day, so I told the boys to take a day off," he explains, moving some stray hairs off your face to tuck them behind your ear. "So, yes. We have the whole day to ourselves, baby. How does that sound?”

You smiled at your mate for the first time tonight, making him chuckle at your sudden change of mood. "That's perfect!” You exclaim. You grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl and gestured for Jake to open his mouth. Jake smiles before doing so, taking the fruit in his mouth.

“We can have a picnic by the falls,” you suggested, your tail swooshing excitedly behind you.

Jake nods, his eyes never leaving your radiant face. Now, this is what he likes seeing. Happiness looks great on you. It made you look more beautiful than you already are that you could compete with Pandora’s beauty.

Seeing you getting excited to spend time with him made his heart melt. “Anything you want,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead. Anything for you. He loves you so much that just being with you, even if you’re doing absolutely nothing, would make his heart so happy. “I love you so much,” he says.

You cupped his cheek and gave him a peck on the lips, “I love you,” you returned. You grabbed another chopped fruit from the bowl to feed to Jake. “You should finish this,” you strictly said and handed the bowl to him.

He grabs a fruit and shoved it into his mouth. “Oh, I will.”

You playfully smacked his arm. “Do not speak with your mouth full, you skxawng.”

He chuckles, remembering how you hated it when he would speak to you with food in his mouth. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, not wanting you to get mad at him again.

“We’ll have the best day tomorrow, yawne. I promise. Just you, me, and our little one.” He kissed your cheek for what seems to be the hundredth time tonight, his hand on your belly where his child, the fruit of your love, grows.

[lovehyyuntold]

— Tour De Force 🤎

— An impressive performance or achievement that has been accomplished or managed with great skill.

– also known as, a masterpiece.

Rundown: a sweet telling of an artist falling in love with his muse, where monochrome ruled his world until your hues brought him to life.

Pairing: artist!hyunjin x reader

Word Count: about 800

Genre: contemporary romance / suggestive !

Warnings: very much in the feels, mentions of physical affection: kissing, hugging, teasing.

Date Created: 11/8/2021

A/N: Hello, and thank you for deciding to stop by to give this story, a shot—it'll be the first fic, I post on this account. I wrote this a long time ago for self-indulgence with my own character in mind, very much un-edited, but I had thought that Hyunjin fitted him more, so here we are. I find most of this to be slightly cringe as it was a spontaneous little thing.

— It would be the biggest honor if you could reblog & comment. Share your thoughts, I genuinely love discussion.

Once again, thank you ♡

When Hyunjin gazes at you, all he sees is a masterpiece.

His studio was filled to the brim with art supplies; all scattered into a small space. Paint splatters on the ground, across the walls, even on the windows itself—brushes rolling on the ground, sketchbooks stacked on the table; his pencils were neatly placed together into one container. Crayons, markers, easels; all in one spot on the ground. Yet somehow, everything was everywhere. One would call this place a mess. You wouldn’t blame them, as it seemed to be exceptionally organized…in his own way—which was most definitely a stretch, seeing as things were verbatim, all over the place. His mind worked in wondrous ways, it became a mystery. 

You admired the quality of his passion, the way his eyes crinkled in concentration as he worked on his next artistry. He wouldn’t ever show you his works in progress nor the result, so it made you ponder on the thought; what was he hiding?

Hyunjin closed his eyes, imagining you. Everything about you, he thought of; your smile, your actions, your words, your lingering touches, soft kisses setting him ablaze, sweet profound words you spoke of when you were with him. He was grateful to have met you, gazing towards the empty sidewalk—lost of all inspiration as he clasped onto his empty sketchbook, pencil in his hand. Time seemed to slow down when you walked in. The glimpse of you that he saw, something about the way you lifted your lips—curving it and grinning, made him hungover at the glow you held, the thought of you.

All was black and white till he saw you.

“Hyun, can I see now?” You whined as you sat on his couch, pouting at him as you stared at the back of his easel.

He could only smile as he peeked over because you shouldn’t see it yet. 

His masterpiece, his muse, you.

“Patience, my love.” He giggles, his eyes turning into crescents as he points his paintbrush at you before continuing on, “Good things come to those who wait.”

Furrowing your brows, you rolled your eyes—crossing your arms at his antics. But it immediately softened at the view of him. Sunset-colored hair gleaming with a softness as his lips pursed; mesmerized at his own work. Hand gliding across the easel—trickles of sweat gliding down his forehead. You never understood why he sweated when he painted, it was as if he was too indulged to even realize the heat in the room. Nevertheless, he was beautiful, this man was yours and you were his. 

“Angel, would you be so kind as to-”

He looked up, meeting your gaze. He wasn't expecting your intense look. Once soft eyes that stared at him with pure love and affection had fire ablaze beneath them as if something had ticked inside you. He was intimidated, to say the least. All he wanted was for you to look at him, so he could scan your features properly. But you had different plans.

“Careful, wouldn't want bugs to fly in that mouth of yours.” You smirked, ego blossoming at the sight of his mouth slightly agape. His pupils widened, and he quickly squinted his eyes, a smirk making its way across his lips. You were such a tease and he loved it.

“You want to go there, darling?” His voice deepens, causing you to cover your mouth. Cowering behind the couch, you laughed—hugging the pillow that was beside you. Sometimes he challenged your little tomfoolery, yet it always left you a flustered mess.

After taking a few minutes to process what he did, you peeked over the couch, but you couldn’t see anyone. You gasped, he was gone. Proof of his painted apron sat on the high stool, but his figure wasn’t there. Panicking, you turned your body around—causing your eyes to meet his again.  You could feel your nose brushing gently against his, lips grazing over yours, breath lingering on each other.

You were close, way too close.

He smiled, staring into your brown ones as the light glimmered onto his. Closing the space, he lifted you from your seat—hugging your waist until he crashed onto you with a searing kiss. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your eyes closed slowly. Placing your arms around his neck, he gently guides your waist towards him, to close the space even further. The moment was sweet and gentle, as if you were a fragile feather, and he was the wind guiding you by.

Art wasn’t about the final result, nor was it about the actual drawing itself; it was a form of communication. The passion that someone held within them, an expression that one holds. A feeling prolonged onto one’s thoughts and mind. To him, you were his inspiration to create his artistry, and he couldn’t ask for anything more. 

A masterpiece amongst the dullest of moments.

© lovehyyuntold 2023