#starting to feel a little less intimidated by the medium.

[jodeeeart]

B&W oil studies

Oil on Paper - various sizes.

#oil #studies #black and white #painting #traditional painting #john singer sargent #joseph mawle #maggie cheung #starting to feel a little less intimidated by the medium.

[wizardmilfs]

huge fan of scaling down whatever project i’m working on so it’s less intimidating

#got a pad of watercolour paper #and a little palette of like 10 pans #but the size of the paper was intimidating cause i always feel the need to use the whole page and not waste paper #so instead when i start a new sheet i cut it down to like 16ths #i’m still new to watercolours #so it helps me feel like i’ve got a more controlled area to learn and fuck up in #and if i want i can repeat what i’ve tried painting on the next little 16th of paper #and it doesn’t feel like a huge waste #more like taking a step up the stairs #and maybe the step was wobbly! but the next one might be better! #idk if i’m making sense #but i find scaling down helps make new mediums less intimidating #the first crochet project i was rly proud of was a dice bag that was entirely in the round & a single type of stitch #didn’t need to worry abt turning for the next row or remembering when to switch to what stitch #just finish the circle and start the next circle

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

holiday drabbles 2/9

"wanna build this thing with me?"

you looked over and saw levi gently set a medium-sized box onto the dining room table. once you got closer and saw what it actually was, you raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"a gingerbread house? really?"

it wasn't that you thought the activity was silly. you just never expected that to be something that levi would be interested in, given the mess it always ends up making.

"four-eyes brought it into the office without realizing that miche had a gingerbread allergy."

"and they made you take it home?"

"tch, do you want to build this damn thing or not?"

building gingerbread houses was a fun activity for most. you got to assemble a little house, decorate it with frosting and candy, and take a few pictures before breaking it apart to finally eat it.

however, it was less fun for two people that both had a keen eye for perfection.

levi had attempted to stick one of the wall edges to another for the fifth time at this point. the icing must have been too warm or too runny, with the house beginning to methodically fall apart the more that the two of you fumbled with it.

in the end, you made a tent out of the two graham cracker pieces that were still intact and gathered the broken ones to the side to maybe turn into the crust of a pie or cheesecake that you'd bake before the holiday party that hange was throwing later in the week.

although it was frustrating getting started, you rarely got to see levi as focused as he was on something as silly as building a gingerbread house. you essentially had to pry the broken cracker pieces out of his fingers as he continuously insisted on trying to do it correctly or fix the house itself.

the holidays looked different this year. your family wasn't going to visit like usual and although you didn't always get along with them, spending the holidays alone felt daunting and lonely. getting invited to the holiday party as levi's date was a nice gesture, but it still wouldn't feel the same.

when you realized that levi had brought the gingerbread house kit back home in an effort to make christmas still feel somewhat special and not just like another normal day, your frustration regarding not getting the house right faded.

"i think it's cute," you assessed as you looked at the shoddily made house.

"it looks like a shitshow," levi grumbled, clearly still fixated on not being able to execute the instructions flawlessly.

"it's a gingerbread house. it's meant to be a shitshow," you reasoned.

as if it was waiting for your comment, the gingerbread house that looked more like a janky tent collapsed and you could visually see the frustration enter levi's eyes as he glared at it, as if he could intimidate the collapsed house to rebuild itself.

although his original mission to take your mind off the fact that you'd be spending the holidays away from family this year was successful, levi made a mental note to himself that if he was to try to bring home another festive activity, it would not be a gingerbread house kit.

#holiday event #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

[orion4ever]

Hello! Can I request some headcanons for Qiu, Tamarack and Cove with overall Rebelious and mean MC who has a soft spot for them, but tries really hard to hide their feelings?

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Also sorry if this isn’t great , I am not good at writing about meaner characters.

Pairing(s): Cove Holden x Reader , Qiu Lin x Reader and Tamarack Baumann x MC

🗒️🐚🍂

COVE HOLDEN🐚

In the beginning, he’d be a bit intimidated by your attitude.

He might’ve avoided you when he first arrived in Sunset Bird , already making the judgment that you wouldn’t be that pleasant to be around.

That's until he meets you!

Cove noticed that you were much more softer and nicer with him than most people.

You wouldn’t be mean to him like you were with people who you weren’t as close with

And you would avoid rebelling or breaking rules when he was around to make sure he didn’t get in trouble for it.

Of course, you were still you. But with Cove around you were mellow.

Your moms notice how quickly your demeanor changes when he is in the general area.

One minute you could be telling somebody off and then the next you would be hugging Cove and asking him how his day was and if he wanted to get a snack later.

Cove would worry that you might get into serious trouble one day, which you reassured that you wouldn’t.

Depending on what comfort level Cove is: Cold, Medium, or Warm; this might just work for the two of you.

Cold Cove wouldn’t mind as much since he isn’t that social and rather be in your company anyway. Not that he is condoning it.

Medium Cove is a bit more awkward and less defined, he doesn’t want people to be put off and avoid you.

Warm Cove is probably the most understanding, he understands that's just how you are. If you didn’t like being nice to strangers then so be it, if you didn’t want to follow some rule then that's ok. Warm Cove would encourage you to be more social though, he wants you to have friends.

Cove appreciates that you are softer to him though, I don’t think he could handle you being genuinely mean to him.

You and Cove have fun though, It's a interesting contrast to see the two of you together.

Like a yin and yang.

QIU LIN🗒️

Their reaction depends on what stage of their life they are in.

Step 1 Qiu might be the TINEST bit nervous, also worried that you might get into trouble or get on somebodies bad side with your behavior

Qiu, of course, is very welcoming and polite still. You may be mean to everybody else but you aren’t to them.

They get a little smug about how you are softer and seem to favor them more than most people.

Like Of course you like their company, Everyone does!

Qiu tries and get other people to see your softer side but you don’t put down your walls for them.

Qiu during Step 2, is a completely different story though.

They just go “same💀”

You two probably skip school all the time and it starts to get concerning and your parents start enforcing it more.

You two get into a bit of trouble…(mostly loitering, you two aren’t getting into anything serious lmao)

Qiu understands your attitude more the older they get. Sometimes some people don’t deserve your time and sometimes some people deserve your kindness

It's a self-preservation, At least that's how the two of you understand it.

While everybody else worries, you and Qiu are just chilling.

They like having someone around who can match their energy.

TAMARACK BAUMANN🍂

Step 1 Tamarack wouldn’t like you at first, Or at the very least be indifferent.

She would want you to be nice to everyone, not just her.

She does brag a bit that you are only softer towards her.

She also has a rebellious side as well, you two get into lots of shenanigans together and cause lots of mischief all the time.

Your mom and her grandparents def put leashes on you two.

It's always kiddy fun.

Once again, Step 2 is another story.

Based on her interaction with Qiu, If you were similar to being mean to others and causing trouble then she would be disappointed

But she’s less awkward around you and tries to encourage you to be more nice or at least a bit more sociable.

Tamarack knows that you can be one of the most softest and kindest people she knows, you’ve watched her back and been there when it got tough

And she wants people to see that rare side of you, but she understands that you are just not interested or in the mood to be nice or to follow rules.

Depending on how rebellious you are, even her grandparents may be wary. It was okay when you were kids but your old enough to get yourself and Tamarack into serious trouble.

On a more positive note, Tamarack still enjoys your company. Sure you aren’t that social but you would never say half the stuff you say to strangers to her.

You and Tamarack go out at night and clean graffiti and collect trash as a ‘reverse vandalism’ and you insult people who litter etc.

Tamarack one day does want to see a positive change in you , but for now it’s just the two of you.

#tamarack baumann #olba #our life beginnings & always #fanfic #our life now and forever #olnf #orion4ever #gb patch #olnf qiu #olnf mc #olnf tamarack #olba cove #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove holden x mc #qiu lin x reader #qiu lin x mc #tamarack baumann x reader #tamarack baumann x mc

[bacchus90-toybox]

Austin, S/S. Bubble Gum.

As far as knotted dildos go, Austin is my go-to. He's probably my most-used knotted model for times I want to get a good knotting. The shape is what I consider on the less challenging side, but don't let that fool you. Using the knot is lots of fun.

I like a bunch of things about Austin: the sizeable head, the consistent thickness of the shaft, and the easy, gradual swell of the knot. I had gotten mine in S/S, which makes longer play sessions more comfortable. There's really not much to say here apart from I enjoy the little bit of thrusting action for the warm-up.

Knotting, in my personal experience, is the main event. Once I've had enough, I like seeing if I could take the toy in its entirety. Given the size, Austin's not intimidating, but the knot is incredibly satisfying once it's in. I love the feeling of wanting to close on the thin neck of the toy just before the base. And yes, before you wonder, he's great for knot fucking too.

Going in can be subtle but the way out is slightly more intense, especially with how the full bulb stretches the orifice the widest on its way out. Not at all painful to start with, but increasingly more and more pleasurable after repeated knot thrusts. I find that once I tire out from thrusting him in and out, I slip him in and clench around past the knot, and then that's it.

In soft firmness, there's an initial struggle cramming the toy in my butthole. It's like trying to smush something soft in my butt and there's very little control of how much knot to fit in when slipping inside. For this reason, a medium firmness one might be more practical. This is exactly why I got a medium one. And oh, impulsive me got another soft one because of the colors.

Final rating: A

Pros: Easily my favorite knot toy due to size/shape. Knot is fulfilling.

Cons: Initial knot insertion can give my poor hand cramps. Lol.

Not only is Austin great for beginners but as an intermediate user (or so I think), I quite enjoy him.

Bonus: Pic of my rogue S/S Austin.

It's still in the bag for posterity. You never know when the world's gonna end.

#bad dragon #fantasy toys

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 17

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Slice of Life, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Synopsis:  Though it hadn't come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Something was off.

Which was strange because by all accounts everything had returned to normal.

It had been a few weeks since the chase and things were a little too average considering. On your new sliding Donatello scale, you had lake day Donnie at one far end and emotional shut down Don at the other. While your typical Donatello interaction could bob anywhere in-between, prior to that night he’d been trending towards a calm waters. However, now it felt like he had found your spirit level and had purposefully set the thing so the bubble was exactly in the center of the guide lines.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing as far as blatantly burying your problems went. That night he’d cuddled you right up until he thought you’d fallen asleep. You pretty much had, but him leaving you, no matter how gently he’d done so, had triggered a latent fear response. It meant you got to watch as he retreated to his side of the bed and stared at the ceiling for too long. Whatever conversation he had had with himself was decided by the next morning. It was something you were slowly picking up on now. Part of you wished you’d noticed sooner, but you had your own matter’s at hand.

They were at least clear; you had two new fears, dark and metal. The latter had been easier to deal with because, oddly enough, it was less tangible. You had never seen the strange objects that had coiled around you, but their sound and texture were unforgettable. In the immediate days following, it had been a struggle to hold a utensil for too long because its cold steely nature sent warning prickles through your fingertips. You had ended up devising a strategy that had you stroking steel sinks and rubbing chrome-laden appliances while sipping your favorite beverages as a means to create a positive reinforcement. You rarely flinched now though you were curious what would happen if you somehow ended up at a herbatarium.

The dark, on the other hand, was unavoidable and you had been utterly immersed in it. You’d impulse purchased night lights in bulk and your roommate had given you quite the side eye when you’d plugged them into every free outlet. For once, she had heeded your pleading gaze and, while that should have felt like a win, you wondered how pitiful you must have looked for her to drop something that should have otherwise been prime teasing material. Aside from that, you now rarely went out after the sun went down if you could help it. Donnie adjusted his schedule to accommodate, but it meant you no longer saw him on weeknights. That paired with his new metric meant he hadn’t offset the loss so you’d only seen him about four times since that fateful night.

It was another reason why his shift had flown under your radar. In the times you had met with him, it felt more like playing out re-runs of prior dates. He was his usual attentive and cynical self, but there was a certain lack of intimacy. The small affections had dried up and spending the night was out of the question. It hadn’t been an immediate red flag; your own sex drive had taken a minor detour, but it was worrisome. You had a feeling he was afraid to touch you so you decided to push a yet unused medium: text.  

It had started just before the last time you had seen him. The digital barrier created what you assumed would be a nice buffer for both of you. You waded into the unventured territory small by sending small affections. They were the sort you usually blurted out to catch him off guard. Watching his response bubble boil up and pop repeatedly sent you back to the early days of messaging him. You felt shreds of his usual self as he gave his usual off-kilter commentary on how brash you were. Balancing the scales, you had then peppered in more average texts as to not overwhelm him. His reactions seemed positive and you had a sense he was equally in on what you were up to. That was, at least, until you had had a particularly good day and went to spread the love as you were laying in bed at the end of it. You sent off a provocative selfie and tried to imagine how adept Donnie would be at sexting. It felt like just the thing to get both of you on track until you gaped at his response which regarded only the bed and wishing you a good night.

It had been annoying enough that you left yourself unattended to and followed his instruction with an angry bundling. Cooled by a night’s sleep, you had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and try again with a snapshot of overt nudity from the shower. He hadn’t ignored it that time, but instead advised you that warning was necessary for those kind of images less he open them in public. You’d taken it in stride and followed it up with sultry text which he quickly changed the subject on. It had taken a lot of will power to not throw. You knew for a fact he wasn’t that obtuse and when you’d met him that last time, you’d come on relatively strong as a test. He had allowed it, but that had also been when you fully clocked how metered he was being. He took your advances in stride and with little reciprocation, as if keeping you a mental arm’s length.

It was what brought you to this moment.

You had tried being nice.

Now you were going to piss him off.

You hadn’t decided if that was an overreaction or not.

Your chill friend Kaleb approached with a buddy of his in tow. “Look who I found!”

“He literally knocked.” Beside you on a worn couch, your mutual friend didn’t look up from their phone.

“A figure of speech!” Kaleb waved off the comment and paused to take Donnie in from where he was standing behind you. “What a sight!”

“Woah…” The new friend adjusted the straps on his oversized backpack.

“Not like that.” Kaleb elbowed the friend in scolding jest. “It’s just every time I see this guy he lights up the room.”

“Y/N, you need to watch out. Kaleb is trying to poach your man.” Your phone friend continued to scroll.

“No, no.” Kaleb mused as he wound over to Donnie and gave you a gentle tap on the arm in passing. “He’s got this vibe to him. We’re simpatico. Right, bud?” He held out a hand.

Donnie, who you could tell was on edge being in the new environment, eventually took the extension and was jolted as Kaleb turned it into a chest bump.

“So…” Kaleb’s friend rolled on the balls of his feet. “I brought so many games.”

“Is this everybody?” Your phone friend lowered their device.

“Yep! We aren’t trying to go overboard.” Kaleb gave Donnie a knowing look before releasing him. “Rehash to start us off: welcome to mi casa! The drinks are always cold, the energy is always amber, and if you need anything, you just have to call me captain.” He then winked in a turn so every person could see it before plopping down in a recliner.

“And the games…?” Kaleb’s friend put his weight onto one foot to lean to the side.

“Introductions first, my man!” Kaleb laughed. “Our one-track mind fella right here is D’Kline-”

The man in question opened his mouth and drew out an annoyed vowel.

“Dean Kline.” Kaleb nodded wisely. “Then Colonel Dee, Donatello, Y/N, who I am sorely lacking nicknames for, and, the phone obsessed non-conformist themselves, Eugene.”

“Go ahead and start getting your games out.” Eugene noted, already back on his device.

“I think I’ll just go with your real names for now…” Dean hummed.

“Nice to meet you.” You bobbed your head as you stood. “Drink?”

“Waa-water, yeah!” Dean knealt down at the coffee table, unzipped his bag, and began to stack his game boxes.

Donnie moved only when you entered the kitchen to observe the growing tower.

“You and Kaleb went to high school together, right D’Kline?” You mused, getting three glasses.

“Middle!” Kaleb corrected, kicking his feet up.

“Our parents were already friends before that…” Dean had a scolded edge to his voice.

“Oop, I meant childhood!” Kaleb laughed heartily.

You heard the conversation continue as you filled up the glasses in a specific order. You then capped off one with a straw and grasped the three together to bring them over to the table. “As requested.” You set down an open glass and pushed it towards Dean who took it immediately.

“Thanks!”

You then flopped back into your spot on the couch and held out the lidded cup to Donnie who took it with increasingly narrowed eyes.

Kaleb burst out laughing. “I got that at Margaretville!”

“Water.” You noted, doing little to hide your smile.

Donnie turned the audaciously island themed cup from side to side to read the logo before bringing his lips to the straw. He sipped before reeling away from it with a grimace.

“Mineral water.” You corrected, sipping from your glass daintily before setting it aside.

You could feel Kaleb’s curiosity wafting off of him.

Cutting off the chance at a comment, you leaned forward towards the coffee table. “Let’s start with Uno.”

Kaleb’s recliner creaked as he shot to attention.

Eugene lowered their phone and you could feel them boring their gaze into the side of your head.

“Oh…” Dean started sadly. “I was kinda hoping we could try So Clover! It’s really fun, you-”

“It’s gonna be that kinda game night, huh!?” Kaleb cut him off. “Let me get it!” His recliner squeaked as it rocked with the disappearance of its occupant.

“But…?” Dean looked around helplessly.

“And here I thought we were gonna play dumb word games.” Eugene chided.

“They’re not dumb!” Dean looked offended.

Donnie set his cup down right in front of you and entered your space to glare you down.

“Have you played before?” You blinked up at him, nonplussed.

“No.” You could feel the sharp daggered edges of a second question there but the new environment kept him from asking.

“It’s fun.” You smiled and turned as Kaleb shuffled back in holding the small package with both hands.

“Here we go. D’Kline you deal!” Kaleb passed off the precious object.

“Alright.” Dean took the cards and opened them up while already explaining the rules with the usual house additions.

You stood and motioned for Donnie to take your seat.

Trying not to split his attention, but clearly wary, he did so.

Everyone else squished around the coffee table as Dean dealt the cards and you sat down on the floor beside the dealer.

A game started up and, quick as usual, Donnie picked up how to play immediately. The round got into full swing and Kaleb was regaling the group with a story from his little league days. You played quietly, dropping colored cards and drawing when necessary. Eugene played the first reverse earning a comical holler from Kaleb who played it off as he had the cards necessary. On your next turn you ended up having to draw four, but you were biding your time. Across from you, Donnie’s hand was rapidly depleting. 

Smiling to yourself, the game continued on with Kaleb and Eugene gunning for one another. Dean had amassed a huge amount of cards during a swap and was muttering to himself gravely about playing another game. Ignoring him in favor of watching Donnie, you saw the shift in his hand. You played green in his favor and with Dean able to continue that, Donnie placed his penultimate card.

“Uno.”

“Uno-“ Donnie snapped his gaze up to you.

“Ooooh!!” Kaleb whooped.

“Draw two.” Eugene grinned at Donnie.

“Good job.” Dean side eyed you and nearly dropped his hand.

“Just paying attention.” You hummed and pretended all your focus was in your deck.

Donnie drew two cards and the game continued on.

It took two more passes until you had what you were looking for. With Dean in between you and Donnie, he would be collateral damage. You imagined he didn’t mind much as he hadn’t wanted to play in the first place. You played a skip card on him and the man indeed seemed relieved that he had more time to organize what was essentially a deck. It also caught Donnie off guard who had clearly been waiting for Dean to play something specific, but had to shift his timeline.

You chose only violence after that. Completely abandoning winning for only tearing Donnie down. Between skips, color changes, and reverses, you watched as Donnie’s hand tightened around his growing fist of cards. You ended up swapping hands with Eugene who commented on how you could have won if you had done something different in your last round. You feigned innocence and could feel Donnie staring at you.

You ignored him and he reached across the table to take your water. You pretended not to watch as he chugged the entire glass in one go and slammed it down as if he were in a bar.

“I’m about ready to bow out.” Kaleb joked to Eugene with wagging eyebrows.

Eugene kicked the recliner. “Maybe while they tear each other apart we can sneak a win.”

“Huh?” Dean looked up curiously.

Your turn came and you reversed the flow away from Donnie yet again.

Dean huffed and Kaleb drew with a chuckle. Donnie selected a card and held it up. Eugene eyed it before placing their card down. Donnie then immediately played his selection and went back to watching his hand.

“Uh…” Dean eyed Donnie before looking helplessly at you. “Did he…?”

“It’s your turn.” You nodded, refusing to look at Donnie.

Dean played and Donnie held up his next card. The others exchanged looks and continued on. Donnie placed his card while only looking at you. Resisting his call, you only checked the pile to see that he had played accurately. It was strange, but you kept course and changed the color much to Kaleb’s complaint. Pre-selecting his card for a third time, Donnie had accurately guessed that Eugene would change it yet again before his turn.

You soured. “I didn’t think it needed to be said, but cheating is against the rules.”

“That was implied.” Donnie responded coolly as Dean played.

“Checking other’s hands is considered cheating.” You clarified and slammed down a card of the same color.

“Kaleb, I think your guest is accusing you of being unsportsmanlike.” Donnie glanced over at said man.

Kaleb’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. “The rule of the house is good vibes only.”

“Oh man, Cor’s going to be so mad she missed this.” Eugene eyed their phone.

“She’s kinda…” Dean grimaced.

Donnie played another pre-selected card.

You finally shot a glare in his direction.

This time he was the one to pointedly avoid it.

“You’ve met her?” Eugene rose a brow.

“One time we went out for drinks…” Dean tilted his head to gesture at Kaleb.

You drew a card.

Donnie held one at the ready even though his turn was still two away.

“That girl’s wild!” Kaleb laughed.

Eugene played a reverse. “What happened?”

“We’re talking about this!” Donnie waved his selection and you played your card while glowering at him.

“Only she lost, but somehow I feel like we all did…” Dean hummed and placed his card carefully while adjusting the stack.

Donnie slapped his selection down and it again was a perfect play.

You put your hand face down and stared at him. The other voices fell away as they continued the story and you watched Donnie lean back into the couch in wait. It was like he wanted you to pick up on something, but you weren’t sure what. You had been succeeding in your night’s mission, but he’d turned the tables. The game was almost entirely based on luck. If he really wasn’t checking hands, then what outlandish method had he come up with to ensure he knew exactly what everyone had?

You paled.

“You’re counting cards.” You mumbled horrified.

“Say what?” Kaleb’s head snapped to you.

Donnie only rose one brow the barest amount.

It was a confirmation for you alone.

“This isn’t poker.” Eugene rolled his eyes.

Dean brought his hand up and looked over it as if it offered him protection.

“No shit?” Kaleb spun the other way to look at Donnie.

“That’s not possible.” Eugene turned as well.

“How could it be?” Donnie wondered, still staring at you.

“Kaleb.” You broke eye contact to look at your hand.

“Yeah?” The man hummed, still studying Donnie.

“How about we let D’Kline here win?” You gave a lopsided smile.

“Me? Huh?” Dean perked up.

Kaleb turned with growing glee. “Hell yeah.”

“It’s like you don’t even think I have a chance.” Eugene bemoaned with a totally flat voice.

The game shifted again. It took a few more rounds until Eugene relented to join the cause. It meant the full force of the table banded together to defeat Don by leading the game in Dean’s favor. It came down to a narrow margin, but Donnie’s intellect won out. It concluded the comically long game of Uno with him as the winner. The others split off for a break from the intensity while you had a silent conversation with Don.

The man raised his brow and you could hear his voice ask what you were doing.

You shrugged back from where you were collecting cards as if to say you were just playing.

He leaned forward and gripped his hands loosely from where his elbows tented them across his knees in a way that questioned your validity.

You tapped the deck once to straighten it before shooting him a sharp glance that asked the same of him.

Donnie looked away as Kaleb returned to his recliner.

“What’s next?” Kaleb looked pointedly at you.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Dean perk up. It almost made you feel bad when you said, “Monopoly.”

Dean visibly collapsed.

In the back of your mind you made a mental note to make it up to the guy for your very poor first showing.

“We are playing for blood tonight!” Eugene rose their voice uncharacteristically.

“D’Kline, can you get it?” Kaleb didn’t even look back.

Dean grumbled and disappeared into an attached bedroom.

“After this has got to be Mario Kart, right?” Eugene was nearly vibrating.

“I don’t have enough spare controllers.” Kaleb sighed.

“I can run home.” Eugene seemed desperate.

“Know how to play this one?” You looked to Donnie with a veiled expression.

“I know enough.” Donnie stood, commandeering your glass to get more water.

Against the loud protest of his rocker, Kaleb leaned down toward you. “Who’s side should I be on? Me and you got time, but your boy’s got heart.”

You knew for a fact that no matter how quietly Kaleb whispered, Donnie could still hear him. Regardless, you softened at Kaleb’s care. “No sides. It’s up to you.”

“Bet.” Kaleb leaned back and let the recliner rock him into position.

Dean returned and got to work laying out the board. Donnie took the top hat, Dean got the shoe, Eugene picked the iron, Kaleb called the car, and you chose the little dog.

“House rule: free parking lot?” You asked though you already knew the answer.

“Yup.” Eugene mumbled, eyeing their phone.

Kaleb nodded as he sipped the straw on a drink he’d prepared.

“Shouldn’t we…?” Dean looked at Donnie.

“Explain it.” Donnie chuffed and waited for Dean.

“We set aside money that goes to whoever lands on Free Parking.”

“All money paid into the pool, actually.” You corrected.

Dean’s lips moved like a fish without water.

“Vicious.” Eugene grinned manically.

Donnie’s snout crinkled the littlest bit. “Fine.”

“Let’s play.” You rolled the dice first and Kaleb ended up winning the roll.

A slower game to get into the grove of, easy conversation was shared about work. Only half paying attention, you could tell Donnie’s gears were turning. This was a game designed for someone like him. You assumed he already had a 50 year plan for some capitalistic take over as his play style was already tending toward ruthless. You imagined him down the line, brokering for properties with Dean who’s very life was on the line if he didn’t agree. You on the other hand, were playing on full impulsivity. You weren’t exactly sure why, but you had this feeling. You bought every property you landed on to the point where Eugene, who was acting as banker, actually urged you not to as it would leave you with only one five bill. You ignored him and purchased the property while Kaleb let out a low whistle.

The game went around and it was obvious that Donnie saw the whole board as one to be manipulated. He’d already bought Kaleb out of one property and was one card away from at least three color sets. The others sat back to the game’s long duration and seemed unaware of the wolf among them. You earned back some money by the cards benevolent graces and Donnie caught his first set. He immediately started to adding houses and that’s about when the others realized the dire straits they would soon be in. You rounded the board safely without paying too high a penalty just before Donnie acquired all the yellow properties.

Eugene groaned loudly as Donnie immediately started building up that territory. The game went around again and the change was palpable. The idle chatter had fallen off as the players now were desperately doing the mental math of which dice rolls were taboo. You landed on one of Donnie’s properties and pretended not to sweat as you paid nearly all you had saved back up. Eugene fretted for you as Dean took his turn. In two more rounds, Donnie had a veritable fortress on half the board and everyone was on desperate edge. You hit Connecticut and paid a pitiful amount to Dean. Donnie went and was up to hotels and, on Eugene’s turn, they landed right on that newly furnished property. Eugene barely clung to life as Kaleb collected $200 for passing Go. It was back to you and, as you picked up the dice, you could feel it.

Looking across the board, Donatello smirked as there was a very real chance you’d be out the game if you rolled high enough. You smirked right back as you dropped the dice. It wasn’t something you could fix and it just felt like the planets aligned as the pair rolled to their final positions. You scarcely had to look down to count it up, already knowing where’d you landed. Kaleb specifically was still doing the math and you skipped your little Scottie dog along. Eugene let out a single dry chuckle and you dropped the pup right on free parking.

In a flash, everyone’s eyes hit the enormous pot collected on the board. It was not only the culmination of play, but Donatello’s own demise as it was everything he had done to fortify his holdings. The corners of his mouth drooped as you reached over to collect the cash. It took two trips and a ton of organizing. Banker Eugene was preening his mental uniform when you looked up. You beamed them a bright smile before going so far as to crack your knuckles.

“Alright.” In a flash, you had your own double color holding and had stacked the properties high in a single turn. The others sweated bullets as more than half the board was now a landmine. Double checking to make sure you were satisfied, you blinked cutely over to Donnie. “I think I’m all done.”

He was crouched forward with a rage-filled fire burning in his pupils.

“I’m not gonna make it.” Dean wheezed and rolled. He ended up in jail and thanked whatever god he acknowledged for it.

Donnie went and narrowly missed your new monopolies.

Eugene was next and skipped right from the frying pan and into the fire by landing on one of your not built up properties. “Fuck you.”

“Count it out.” You rose up on to your knees.

“Kaleb, fucking help me.” Eugene grit their teeth and collected up their money.

“Oh boy…” Kaleb groaned.

In the end, Eugene was only able to stay in because they gave you Park Place. It meant you had all the blue spaces and just needed to wait out Kaleb to stack them as well.

Kaleb threw the dice as if they burned him and found he landed on his own railroad.

It moved to you where you easily skipped Donnie properties for your own before making good on that increased infrastructure.

Dean happily failed to get out of jail and Donnie went next.

He landed on a property of yours and paid a pretty penny. He seemed unruffled, but you could see the fringes of frustration clinging to him. You had bet your entire game on nothing but luck which in and of itself was irritating to Donnie. That paired with the fact that this gambit had played out while systematically dismantling everything he worked for had to be an incredible blow for his pride.

Eugene feebly took their turn and was knocked out by Dean on Connecticut. As if having actually gone destitute, they dropped their head in their hands. Kaleb patted them on the shoulder and offered to make them a drink after his turn. He took his and again narrowly managed to survive to roll again another day. You added a few more hotels as Kaleb departed to get a glass.

When he returned, Dean was still in jail and Donnie had just rolled a pathetic number that placed him on another of your properties. He threw the money across the board at you and the unraveling was becoming more apparent by the second. Eugene nursed their drink as Kaleb rolled and the final dice came to a painful halt that read he’d be staying the night at Hotel Chez Donatello. Donnie accepted the cash and, though he didn’t look at you, you could tell his anger was all being sent in your direction now that he had some padding to his pockets.

You took up the dice and looked to find your chances of escaping Donnie’s clutches to be relatively low. He had clearly calculated this as well and was a predator laying in wait. You stared right at him as you mimed kissing the dice before throwing them out. As if cosmically on your side, the others leaned forward and jumped for joy as you somehow threaded the needle and landed on Kaleb’s railroad. Donnie’s face remained neutral, but you caught the way he fisted his slacks.

Kaleb rolled and he made the saddest face possible as he landed on your property.

“You don’t have to pay.” You sent him a smile.

“For real?” Kaleb’s lips did a somersault for joy.

“There has to be an exchange!” Donnie snarled and jammed a finger into the board.

Eugene inched away from him on the couch.

“Make me one of those drinks then?” You were downright beaming.

“Done!” Kaleb made a zany face as he hopped out of his recliner.

You rolled and landed on your own property having maxed everything out. “Ah, the best part about coming home to rest is knowing how easy it was to win!”

Donnie muttered something and Eugene hit the opposite edge of the couch.

Dean went and freed himself from prison much to his own dismay.

It was Donnie’s turn and you felt like he might have crushed the dice to dust had he not tossed them. They landed him on your property and you could tell by the way Eugene was eyeing him that his funds were getting tight. There was something especially venomous about the clean way he stacked the bills precisely in front of you that contrasted how he’d tossed them earlier.

You added it to your till and Kaleb passed you a drink.

“A vodka cranberry.” He sang and sat. “How’my doing?”

“You’re alive.” Eugene grouched.

“We’re alive.” Kaleb quivered his lip and held out one die to Eugene.

Eugene took it with their own watery look and together they threw the pair. It ended up being Kaleb’s demise as he landed on Donnie’s most expensive property.

“C-Colonel Dee. Carson Deely! Dee-man…!” Kaleb plastered on a fake smile.

“You have been removed from the nickname stage.” Donnie looked up at the man from where he was craned over the board.

“I-What?!” Kaleb paled.

You winced.

You hadn’t considered collateral damage on Donnie’s part.

“You will pay in full.” Donnie turned his head incrementally and he practically oozed malevolence.

Kaleb and Eugene scrambled to make the bill. “I-I-I-“

“You can sell your property back to the bank and cover it.” Eugene looked up desperately.

“Sell to me and I may leave you with a single note.” Donnie tilted his head. “Or wait and I’ll purchase them anyway.”

“It’s not your turn next.” You corrected.

He glowered at you openly with enough wrath that you shrunk back against your will.

The plan was definitely working.

“The bank.” Kaleb agreed and passed the properties to Eugene before paying the rest of the cash to Donnie. “I’m out…” Kaleb dropped his desolate face for one of joy and scooped up his cocktail. “What a ride!”

“Teller, I’d like to buy the railroad.”

Eugene nodded and the funds were exchanged. You then rolled and landed on another of your properties.

Dean went next and got Community Chest. He pulled a Get Out of Jail Free card and collapsed onto the bit of table not occupied by the board.

All attention shifted to Donnie as he didn’t immediately take his turn. You looked and, while he’d been very cagey about his money prior, you could now glimpse that even with Kaleb’s endowment, he had very little. Depending on where he landed he would either be close to out or gone in another turn. Narrowing in on him, you saw the dart of his pupil as he did any multitude of calculations. “I’m purchasing Baltic.”

Eugene’s brows knit. “You sure?”

Donnie simply turned to him and Eugene reeled back. He snatched up the card offered and paid them before rolling. He landed on one of your more average properties and you saw cracks forming. It sucked up nearly everything he’d just earned and there were very few bills peeking out from his pile.

You took a long drag from your straw before rolling again. Chance advanced you to Go and you collected your cash.

Donnie’s knee bounced.

Dean took the dice and also got a Chance of his own where he was paid 50 measly dollars.  

Donnie reached for the dice and Kaleb caught Eugene’s hand. From his current position, Donnie only had about a 30% chance of hitting your properties, but it would be enough. You sort of wished you knew the game by heart so you could see if selling his stakes would be enough to save him.

The dice left his hands.

Luck had been on your side.

He landed on Boardwalk.

“Pay up.” You brought your head up to smirk.

Donnie reached for his bills when his hand halted.

You didn’t need to know what the properties were worth.

He did all the math for you.

All you needed to see was the exact moment he realized he didn’t have enough.

It was divine.

“Aw…” Your voice raised several octaves. “Don’t have enough?”

Donnie’s hand shook from where it was hovering.

You took another languid sip from your straw. “Wow, must be tough to know you were beat by superior players.”

Donnie launched himself over the table.

Your arms shot out and your drink left your hand.

The last thing you saw was Dean in motion before Donnie’s weight collided with you.

The two of you slid all the way across the hardwood floor into a nearby wall.

There was then a resounding clatter and you opened your eyes deliriously to watch as monopoly money floated through the air.

Kaleb let out a roar and shot out of his chair.

You looked down at Donnie to find him watching you with huge eyes. There was an open confusion there as he hadn’t quite put together what happened. You didn’t feel any pain despite being halfway across the room and found yourself bundled in his arms with his face to your chest. Staring at his owlish form, your lips wrinkled until you burst out laughing.

The others joined in and you throttled Donnie by squeezing his head in a tight hug. He slapped at your back for it and you released him.

“You sore fucking loser!” Eugene choked, unable to keep either his giggles or beverage where they were supposed to be. “Y-You think n-no one would notice y-you flipped the fucking b-board!?!”

“I-I did no such thing!” Dean stuttered before folding his arms. “I-It was him!” He unfurled only long enough to throw an accusatory finger at Donnie.

The two started arguing where Eugene could barely keep themselves together and you brushed Donnie’s cheek. He’d retreated into an open grouch and you dropped your voice just for him. “Welcome back, stranger.”

“Don’t welcome back the man who attacks you.” He tried to pull away and you leaned harder into the wall to trap his arms there.

“Nuh uh!” You tutted.

He hoisted himself up with his core alone to look you in the eyes. “Let go.”

“I’m fine.” You refused to shrink back. “I wanted you to do that; I was egging you on.”

His eyes widened slightly.

You realized he hadn’t recognized that.

Your heart dropped.

Despite his own suspicions and everything you’d done, he’d still placed his faith in you.

Overreaction it was.

“Y/N.”

“Look.” You brought your arms away from him in a show. “You didn’t hurt me at all.”

“Because I was holding ba-ck!”He hitched the final word, but it was already too late.

He hadn’t meant to say it.  

You took a turn with widened eyes. “I knew it!”

You accusation carried way above the whispered tones you had been talking in.

You both felt feel the other eyes in the room.

“Omigosh!” Kaleb yelled at the ceiling. “Eugene and D’Kline, and not Donnie and Y/N because they totally already know this and don’t need to move from that spot so they can keep talking about whatever it is they’re talking about, did you know that my fire escape works exactly like a balcony!?”

“Uh yeah… We’ve been best friends our whole lives…” Dean wondered aloud as Kaleb ushered him to a nearby window. 

“Wow! You’ve never seen it either!? Let me show you!”  Kaleb forced the jamb open and shoved the rest out amongst mild protests.

You stared blankly until Donnie wrenched himself free while you were distracted. “Hey!”

“What do you want?” He was about to get on his knees to stand so you caught two fistfuls of his sweater.

“We’re talking about this!”

“About what?” He seethed. “About how yet again I can’t control myself in front of you? About how I leaped at you over a fucking child’s game?”

You softened, but didn’t let go. “You’ve been holding back.”

“Ah yes, the proclamation I’ve been excelling at, he said sarcastically.” He scoffed.

“No.” You tugged on him. “You lost control more easily because you’ve holding too much back! Sound familiar?”

“We’re not having that conversation again.”  

“We are.”

“This is different.”

You yanked him until your noses were almost touching. “No, actually. The cause may be different, but you are not immune to making the same stupid mistake twice. If you’re going to keep being dumb then, spoiler alert, the same hashing out happens. These problems don’t fix themselves overnight!”

He sneered at the indignity.

“Don.”

Struggle tinged his features.

“I have a pretty good guess if you’re not going to start us off.”

“Every time I touch you I see your horror-stricken expression.”

You blinked.

It had taken so little prying.

You looked down to where you were holding him and released. He inched back some and smoothed out the fabric.

“That’s…”

What could you do about that?

“I’m not going to break.” Resisting the urge to soothe him, you held a fist at your chest.

He looked at the pair quietly. “That easily, you mean.”

“You think the more time I spend with you, the more you’re going to break me?”

 “Look what I’ve done so far.”

“You warned me that you’ll take until there’s nothing left.”

He looked at you with trepidation. “I did not intend that to be carved off in pieces.”

“It’s not like that.” You pleaded with your eyes.

“You’re afraid of the dark!” His teeth bared as he bit down on the final word.

You flinched.

“And…” You could almost see the memory pass through his vision. “…the way you cried. Utterly broken…”

You looked down.

Just like with you, the feelings were as irrational as they were valid.

“I’ve forgiven you.” You started slowly. “Can’t you forgive yourself?”

“No.” It was resolute and tinged with malice.

You also couldn’t make him.

You squeezed your hand tighter.

“Then can you at least not pull away?” You tried to catch his eye. “Please.”

He dodged your gaze. “I’m here, am I not?”

You reached up to get his attention and he begrudgingly looked at you. “Donatello.”

He chuffed.

“Yes, technically you’re right here with me, but you also aren’t. The holding back is a half measure and what you’re doing isn’t dealing with the issue. You’re avoiding it… which means avoiding… me.”

He thought it over.

“The ‘welcome back’ line was because you haven’t held me since.”

“That hardly counts.”

Your lids dropped. “It’s the best I’ve got.”

He was slow to move, but when he did he reached out. His fingers neared your arm and you saw a flicker of hesitation.

You leaned away. “You don’t have to.”

“There is a clear contradiction here.” His brows knit.

“I want you to touch me, but I always want that. Before this…” You made a gesture between you. “I understood it wasn’t something you always wanted too. Was it an issue then?”

He seemed to think otherwise so you gave him a quick poke of displeasure.

“What I mean is: you adjusted your schedule because, for the time being, I don’t feel comfortable being out after dark, right?”

“Of course.”

You pursed your lips. “Not because you did that, but because I feel the same way; I don’t want you to force yourself to touch me until you’re comfortable doing so.”

That clicked for him and he studied you. “Then why make me angry?”

“Because I wasn’t getting through to you. You decided this all on your own and refused to acknowledge it was happening!” You closed your eyes and sighed. “It was petty and I thought it could break through to you. Which it sort of did…”

He relented with a nod.

“I shouldn’t have done it, though…” You squeezed your hand again as the urge to touch him swept through you. “I probably could have just cornered you and you would have opened up… In hindsight, it was pretty shitty.”

There was another lengthy pause before he turned his hand over so the palm was facing up and held it out to you.

You heeded him by just lightly touching your fingertips to his.

He held steady as if testing the exchange before slowly shifting to enclose your digits under his thumb in a light hold.

“This isn’t an excuse, but the positive reinforcement I tried before this kinda blew up. I jumped to an extreme because I was upset.”

One of his brows lifted. “How so?”

“The uh…” Having to say it aloud hadn’t been something you anticipated. “You know, the more… flirtatious texts…”

You watched as he clearly wound back the tape in his mind to look for the clues. “Yes. You’d been more overt than usual. I had identified that as increased vulnerability due to what occurred.”

Your lips parted slightly before you bit them. “Even the shower one!?”

You watched the exact moment his processor crashed. It rebooted near instantly and he looked away.

You straightened a little. Kaleb’s place had great lighting and you were sure there was the barest blush on his cheeks. “Oh… Donnie!”

“What?” He buried the humiliation and snapped back to you.

Your bottom lip was surely red from how much you were chewing on it. “Did you like it?”

His eyes swerved in another direction. “You received your warning.”

Another question popped up, but it required you check for prying ears. Signaling this by wiggling a finger in Donnie’s hold, you looked towards the window and could just barely make out the back of Kaleb’s form. Donnie then looked over his shoulder before leaning in with a confirming nod that it should be alright to tell him something of a more sensitive nature.

If he had been blushing before, your cheeks were currently making a mockery of that. “Did you… jack off to it?”

That clearly wasn’t what he was expecting because his eyes shot wide before he reigned them in by shirking away. His hand pulled clean from yours and he covered his mouth.

This time you were sure there was a blush. “You did!”

“No!” He moved his hand away only long enough to ground the syllable out before returning the appendage to talk through it. “I’m… adding ‘licentious’ to your descriptors…” Embarrassment thinned his voice.

“What did you do?” You leaned into him with a curious whisper.

“It was without warning!” He clipped before reaching out to push you back.

That was the third time he had used that as a response. You narrowed your eyes, not sure what it meant.

“I-“ He pinched his brow. “Damnit.”

“I swear I won’t judge you.”

“How could you?” He shook his head. “Licentious.”

“Pot, kettle, whatever.”

He removed his hand and looked at you with great difficulty. It proudly displayed the obvious darkened dusting to his green cheeks. “In an act that one would equate with a teenager, I involuntarily… dropped.”

It took you a moment to process the way he’d said it before your hands flew up to cover your mouth.

He sneered. “I don’t know what’s worse. Your reaction or the fact that it happened.”

You shook your head and lowered your hands to reveal a beaming smile. “It’s not laughing. I’m…” You had to blink because your eyes were getting watery. “I’m honored? That’s definitely not the right reaction either but…”

A rumble of irritation came up from his chest.

“Has that…” You lowered your gaze before looking back up at him. “…happened with anyone else?”

He put together your intention and clicked his tongue. “No.”

Your smile grew brighter and with it that overwhelming urge to grab him. You squashed it, but your lips betrayed you. “A kiss? Just a little kiss… I just-”

He shot forward and covered your lips with his own. You tried to respond, but he pushed you back into the wall with a sudden peak of ferocity. It shattered your will and he let it linger before he finally pulled back. “What confusing opposition.”

“Wanting me and being afraid to touch me?”

He gave a single nod.

“We can…?”

“We’ll work on it.” His shoulders relaxed.

“As long as you’re willing; that’s a start.”

He sat back and for a moment you both let the conversation sink in. He then looked off to the side and you saw him thinking something over. You watched curiously until he mumbled aloud. “Positive reinforcement…”

“Mhm, like the metal thing I was doing.”

“There’s a three day weekend coming up.”

“Yeah, next week, I think.”

A curled finger came to his lip as he was deep on thought. “The machine is restrictive and could create its own negative connotations if we run into a similar situation…”

You weren’t sure if he’d meant to say that out loud as he usually gave an obsessive amount of care to those kinds of things, but taking a chance you adjusted where you were sitting. “Sounds like we just need to communicate then? Ongoing communication.”

He looked at you as if you held the key to solving his conundrum. “You would have little autonomy.”

What the hell kind of machine was he talking about?

“But it’ll help?”

“It has the potential to help both of us.” He seemed adamant.

“Then let’s do it.”

“There are innumerable things we would need to discuss first; I need to make a list…”

He was about to retreat into his mind and you reached out to him. He caught the movement and tensed up, but you kept yourself from grazing him. “We’ll do all that and more. I trust you.”

He blinked, a single time, and then no more.

You waited patiently until worry seeped in. “Uh… Donnie?”

“I gained it back.”

Of course you did, I love you.

Nope.

Not that again.

Damn intrusive thoughts.

“Gained…?” With a rush you were hit with the memory from outside your work building. “Oh… Oh.”

“Was that hyperbole?” He leaned into you to examine your response.

“No.” You shook your head. “You did… Huh, I don’t know when.”

“I see…” He withdrew and seemed a bit lost at the many things he now had to ponder.  

Forcing the clearly still confused feelings down, you moved to stand. He watched you carefully and you made a big show that you were going to give him a peck. He offered himself up for it and you kissed his forehead. “Wanna play a dumb game now and leave the rest of the serious stuff for later?”

“That is not something I ever imagined agreeing to.” He got to his feet and you could see him add yet another thing to his mental plate.

“Life’s a trip.” You chuckled and then moved around Donnie. “Hey D’Kline! Let’s play that four-leaf clover game!”

Dean’s head popped right through the window in a rush. “So Clover!?”

“Ugh, no!” Eugene’s whine carried.

“I’m sensing good things!” Kaleb chirped. “Yes?!”

You checked with Donnie who seemed a bit defeated but shrugged in a way that told you to go on.

“Yes!” You shouted back.

NEXT

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #weakspotfic

[cljordan-imperium]

5

Discussions continue in the kitchen...and tempers rise..

"It is my vow to never give you reason to doubt me, Mahala." If he did not get away from her he was going to say or do something to either frighten her or change the whole dynamic of their relationship in a direction he did not want quite yet.  Reluctantly he took a step back from her but left their hands joined.   "Come, let's start the discussion.  Okay?" He started to lead her out to the lit hallway to the kitchen without waiting for her to even answer. 

"Okay." She replied and followed.  Instantly she missed the feel of him so close, the tingle of his magic sliding over her.  Mahala was pretty sure she must be going insane.  Having a crush at her age, on a man she just met, who was the most powerful warlock in who knows how large an area was not the most normal thing to be doing.  But there she was, following Vollrath through a mansion that put the one she had just inherited to shame, admiring his ass, and anticipating the next forehead kiss. 

His kitchen was no less impressive than the rest of the house that she had seen. Far more updated than the one she had at her familial estate, brighter too.  The handsome warlock now standing in the middle of it didn't hurt any.  Now she could see him better, and it gave her even more butterflies than before.  She had known he was tall, well over six feet, but now she could tell that his hair was a medium auburn and those hazel eyes of his really did change when he moved in the light.  The hair of his beard held more red and for some reason it was the sexiest thing.  She had been able to feel his muscles, but seeing them outlined through his well fitted shirt was causing her to find it harder to meet his eyes again, and this time not due to intimidation.  Mahala was quite sure she must have hit her head because thinking thoughts like shew as at the moment was not like her.

"Coffee or tea? I don't do soda.  If you want water or juice, I have orange and apple.  I also have lemon or lime for tea and water." Vollrath offered her as he led her over to the stools on one side of the large island in the middle of the kitchen. He could feel her eyes on him, and it made him smirk a little, as soon as he could, he too would be checking her out now that they were not in low light.

"Coffee, please.  Do you have cream or milk?" Then added a little "Oh!", as Vollrath released her hand and didn't pause before turning and lifting her by the waist to deposit her gently on the stool he'd pulled out for her.

"Both." He winked, kissed her forehead again then the tip of her nose, and spun around to head off to do preparations, leaving Mahala staring a bit stunned and slack jawed.

A moment later she composed herself to turn and face the island, watching his move effortlessly around the room.  While the carafe was filling in the sink he pulled out the milk and cream, holding them up for her to point to.  Next came sugar or sweetener.  Then he let her pick the coffee flavor. It was all ready by the time the carafe filled. Now they just had to wait while it brewed.

"So you understand, before we start discussing anything else." Vollrath leaned over the granite countertop of the island in the middle of the kitchen, his hands just over shoulder width apart and flat on it. She really was stunning, his drank her dark hair and chocolate eyes in before he continued, "I am the Master Warlock of the Dunkelheit Coven. Baldur and Elmar are my Seconds, and best friends.  All three of us are single and for good reason.  It is our responsibility to lead and protect the Coven. When we choose a partner, it has to be someone who can help us with that responsibility, a true partner in all aspects of our lives.  Don't flirt or think that you.." he saw her mouth open to say something.   Her brows had already started to draw together, forehead creasing, breath increasing. He held up a finger.

"LET. ME. FINISH." His voice was firm, but not raised.  Her mouth closed, but arms crossed over her chest.  "Do not think you can have a casual or light or, fuck, even normal, relationship with any of the three of us.  We aren't normal, we're not easy, and at times a lot is required of us. So, before you get offended, the same speech is given to all females who come into the Coven over eighteen or are born into it when they turn eighteen.  Now, I'm done, so, the kitchen is yours, my lady."  Vollrath inclined his head and gestured over to her.  For some reason he did not get the same level of enjoyment out of that little speech as he normally did.  In fact, he had a feeling they were back to square one and he'd just fucked something up again.

"We met hardly an hour ago, and you feel the need to give me a warning about relationships with you and two men I haven't even met.  I'm not joining your Coven. I'm here because I inherited a mansion that happens to be in your territory and made a mistake in thinking that summoning a spirit was as easy as something off TV. Please make this make some kind of sense for me, Vollrath, because you’re the one that seems to be making the advances, not me." She was confused, tired, and her own attraction to him and emotions were not helping. Not even factoring in the forehead kisses that he kept giving that were seriously fucking with her head.

Before she had time to focus on what he was doing, Vollrath was around the island, and had turned Mahala to face him.  Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, her lips slightly parting as she was once more left stunned and slightly intimidated.  His face was serious.  Auburn brows were low and drawn together as hazel eyes seemed to almost swirl in color. His hand was still lightly on her hip from turning her, and he raised his other hand the place two fingers under her chin to keep her looking directly into his eyes. Vollrath leaned forward, their noses almost touching. "Tell me you don't feel it, Mahala. Tell me you don't feel the attraction, tell me you don't feel the spark every time that we touch. Look me straight in the eyes right this second, and tell me that you don't, and I will apologize for a false assumption." 

In that very second, in a kitchen he had had many females in over the years, he had not felt the urge to kiss a woman full on the lips since he had been in college. But in that moment he wanted nothing more, and that both confused him deeply and scared him to his very soul. That was why he had given the warning but he had no clue how to tell her that.  No idea how to explain that.  The contact of his fingers on her skin was a temptation to slide them back in her hair and do just that, to give into temptation.

Mahala stared back into his hazel eyes that seemed to have darkened almost to a chocolate brown, it was as if they could shift their colors like a chameleon. It confused her, it scared her, but there was something about it that seemed to reflect the man before her that could one moment be twirling around the kitchen with a smile on his face as they discussed coffee and the next be so intimidating. Her problem was that she couldn't tell him that she didn't feel it and she hadn't been thinking about it. And looking in his eyes, it was even more apparent that the reason that he'd given the warning was that he was feeling it as well. Maybe that was the problem, they were both feeling it, and they were both scared at what that meant and why it was happening.

"I told you I wouldn't lie to you, Vollrath. I'm not asking you to apologize because you are not wrong, I'm asking you to make this all make sense." Mahala's eyes were pleading and her voice soft. She didn't want to argue with him, she didn't want to start a fight. Her hand came to rest on the forearm of his arm that had a hold of her hip.  "You tell me that I am an actual witch, but I'm not. My mother was a witch, I have her grimoire. But I have never practiced, I have no powers, and I was only going to do that one spell."  She held up a hand, stopping anything he was about to say. He hadn't even tried to interrupt her, but she could already hear it in her head. Tears swelled up in her eyes, she was so frustrated and so confused. "Before you say anything, I know it was a mistake, but it was just that one spell. I've never done any magic in my life. I was just here in this city to settle the estate and see if I wanted to stay or if I just wanted to sell it all. And now I'm here in your house, and we're having this discussion, and you had to give that warning because of something that neither of us can deny."

One side of Vollrath’s mouth lifted as he looked down at her, considering how he wanted to answer everything that she had just said. He had given her time to say it all so she would understand he was coming to respect her. Only time would tell how some things with her would turn out, but other things would depend on how well they could work together regarding the powers that were innate within her, whether she wanted to admit to them yet or not. In the end that was what would make the full determination of it, including whether she stayed within his territory or not. It was that thought of her leaving that caused a dull ache in his chest, that he absolutely hated.  What was this little witch doing to him?

He was a difficult man the best of days, he was stubborn, he was demanding, and he tended to buttheads with just about everyone, including the two men who were his seconds in command of the Coven, as well as best friends. He had felt the need to warn her, so that she didn't get attached and thinking that life would be roses or any different than it was in that exact moment, he would always be a hard man and his life always would be demanding. It would only be whatever love or emotions developed between them that would be the difference and how well they could work together. However, what he hadn't told her was he already would be willing to kill for her, to destroy for her, to ensure that no one ever could hurt her. That was something that he would say for very few people, and he did not understand why he was willing to do that for her now, so soon after meeting her. The possessiveness, the protectiveness, the almost level of obsessiveness that he was feeling in those few minutes that they had actually interacted with one another since they had met, he would willingly almost go to war over her. He wanted to understand it, and eventually he would find out what it was that was causing this. For right now, he would not let her go, he could not let her go, whatever he had to do to convince her to continue to see him, to let him instruct her, and whatever else it took to stay in contact with her he would be willing to do, even if he had to scare the living shit out of her to do it. He would not be proud of it, but he would do it. Because there was something so deep inside of him that needed to do it and he needed to find out what it was before it could destroy him and by proxy the Coven.

After what seemed an eternity to Malaha, Vollrath answered her, "You are a witch, Mahala, you're a powerful one. For whatever reason, your mother chose to hide that from you. I can help you discover everything about what you are and the gifts that you hold. I can guide you, I can teach you, and I can protect you. Whatever this is, this thing that we're both feeling, we'll figure it out as we go. I make no promises, but at least now you know exactly what you're getting into if you decide that this is what you want and our feelings are always mutual. I won't lie to you, and it won't lead you on. I'm also not an easy man, and I'm not going to change for you. I don't expect you to change for me."  He wasn't exactly sure how he made it through that speech. He felt like he was drowning in the chocolate pools of her eyes. He really did think that she possibly had some enchantress powers within her. The skin beneath his fingers dragging down the side of her neck felt like satin.  He both hated her and desired her in equal measures.

Mahala’s breath was shaky, he kept telling her she was something she felt to her core that she was not.  Yet when she looked in his eyes, she could see no deception, something she’d been good at since she was a child.  What she did see confused her in other ways.  It was as if he was at war with himself, but she dared not voice that. Her hand not already resting on his arm rose to lightly grasp his wrist.  “Don’t toy with my emotions, Vollrath.  Speak very clearly what you want because I want no miscommunication or misunderstandings here. You seem to push and pull, muddy the waters.  You tell me not to flirt or expect anything after I’ve done nothing of the sort, yet you stand here with something entirely different swirling in your eyes and touching my skin as if you were my lover.  I am not a naive girl, Vollrath, and *whatever* this is…it’s not a game I’m going to play.  You offer to teach me about gifts no one in my life has ever even hinted at, yet caress and keep giving light kisses as if you are looking for something completely different than an apprentice. I will not be toyed with, no matter if I have trespassed on your Coven or your personal land.  So talk straight to me, or let me go and I’ll make sure you never set eyes upon me in your city or territory again because I have no intention of being a piece in a game of someone’s ego.” 

As she finished speaking, Mahala wasn’t sure if he was more shocked by everything that poured from her lips or she was.  Her voice had been firm, her eyes meeting his evenly, and she had somehow kept from shaking.  Now was only to see what he said.  Would he admit what he was thinking, what was swirling behind those hazel eyes of him that seemed to be shifting colors already in the light of the kitchen?

#magical mistakes #my writing #writeblr #my ocs #new chapter #chapter 5 #fiction #fantasy #supernatural #supernatural romance #supernatural fiction #paranormal #paranormal fiction #paranormal romance #magical #magic #magic story #mystical #witch #warlock #coven #mystery #romance mystery #romance

[ganymedesclock]

I think that art is one of those things that people often see as a completed, already extant thing in their world and it's hard to break it down into pieces or understand it, so it's easy to be intimidated by impressive art and even if you're yourself an artist, it's super easy to be intimidated by people. I hear a lot of artistic types repeat the common refrain of, "you're special, you're above me and I'm scared of you because you're so cool / your art is so good."

This is especially significant/challenging when it comes to getting ideas. The actual physical process of making something, you can talk about pen strokes or word choice or material selection, the angle of your hand on the clay or whatever is apt for your medium of choice. But ideas, man, where did that come form?

Personally, the model I take to ideas is a little less than divinity, though it is something impressive.

Having ideas is a compost heap. The having-ideas stage is not about filtering anything. You can fret about if it's good or not later. Getting Ideas is the point where you just take literally anything that catches your attention and toss it onto the heap. Feed it to your mental worms.

And the great thing is, you can absolutely do it while you're slacking off. I like to watch cleaning and repair videos. In particular, I just watched someone solder a new tooth on a gear. And I think, "man, that's cool isn't it? the way the solder goes on, it's blobby and accretes in a very organic, strange pattern. Before he sands it down, it looks like magma, or a scab."

And that thought goes into the dirt with other thoughts I've already put there- that I think machinery is neat so I try to learn a lot of facts and quirks and things about that, that I think biology and anatomy and especially abnormal anatomy (disease, mutations, etc.) are really, REALLY neat, and because those are high priority things to my brain a spark jumps and they stick together into a gelatinous little proto-idea and the idea is something about the distinction between bodies and machines, how the mechanical is very ordered, pristine, precise, engineered- and the organic is by nature squiggly and fleshy and peculiar.

And hey, now, what does it mean if many inorganic natural forces also behave this way- the fluid physics of sea and sky, the bubble and gurgle of pyroclast as it flows into shape? Meanwhile, some other inorganic natural things, like crystal structure, feel very 'mechanical'.

This is nothing that was particularly difficult to do. It's really just a stream of consciousness. I took a bunch of things I liked and started sticking them together into experimental fragments. I shared that one, because I could pluck it from the dirt and go, huh, that's interesting, I think tumblr will like that one, but the great news is there's no bad ideas. There's ideas you want to use right away in their current state, and there's ideas that you want to tamp back down into the dirt so they'll feed all the other ideas down there to make something stronger, and there's ideas that helpfully tell you that you might have fed it something bad a while ago or that the pH of your soil is off, and you should examine this idea to find where the problem is and what good brain food would counteract it.

It's compost!

#writing ruminations #long post

[cosmonaughtt]

I think, part of the reason I’m quite ecstatic about the Hermitcraft & Empires crossover (The Great Crossover Event) is that... 

It was planned and followed through.

Also this ramble got long so there is a readmore LOL (￣ ‘i ￣;)

And this little ramble here isn’t a slight against any creator at all, but I first got re-involved with MCYT content with the DreamSMP. I think that using Minecraft as a medium for storytelling is super unique and underrated; there’s a bit of a juvenile energy to it as it’s a kids game, but also as a game with infinite possibilities and worlds it really has no bounds.

What DSMP did in 2020-2021 was amazing. I think that they had such great potential with storytelling and used it without even realizing what they were doing, especially in the early days. One of the reasons I fell out of it (as I’m sure everyone has) is that, for the most part, they aren’t really that organized as they maybe used to be.

And I get it. Life happens, and you lose inspiration for stories, and with COVID-19 NOT ENDING BUT EVERYONE THINKING IT IS OVER ENOUGH TO MOVE ONTO OTHER VENTURES, I’ve been there before. Well, maybe not the last part. I still wear mask everywhere I go. 

I can’t help but say that the disappointment of ccs losing interest in the DSMP storyline doesn’t hurt in a way. Call me parasocial for it all you want; but if your favorite book series or movie trilogy never had that final movie come out, or your favorite TV show never had that last season to tie up all the loose ends, you’d be dissapointed too, right? Again, this isn’t a slight against the individual ccs, just at circumstances around it.

But in come Hermitcraft and Empires; Hermitcraft was a series on my radar for years but I’ve always been intimidated by the long episode counts (except for season 8 now lmao) to ever get invested into it, but when Empires S1 came out i was hooked. People using Minecraft to tell stories! And it’s good!!!! 

There’s a sort of similar energy from early Empires episodes to early DSMP lore; none of it feels completely planned out. I can’t speak for creators of course, but it feels like both SMPs didn’t intend to get as story-based or lore-heavy as they ended up getting, but they got, eh, lost in ze sauce, as one of my friends would say. They embraced it, and it just so happened that Empires, because it was strictly MINECRAFT creators and not a mix of different types of streamers who also play Minecraft, it was able to keep that storyline to the end. And with Hermitcraft, while some people joke it’s got lore-phobic people on the server who just wanna play minecraft, after the ending of Season 8? Yeah, right, buddy.

When there started to be little pieces & foreshadowing in episodes, I got really excited, but kept my expectations low. Maybe as a response to DSMP CCs, maybe as a I get too overexcited over little things and I don’t wanna over-hype myself, if it doesn’t happen I’ll just make fanfic for it lmao type of thought. 

But they didn’t!

They actually went through with it! It’ll be a little mini-arc! They’d been planning it for more than four months, according to fWhip’s video. It’s one of the biggest crossover events in Minecraft history, and it is so cool to see these (grown-ass adults /affectionate) MCYT creators invest so heavily into storylines and “roleplay”. I think for a lot of popular storytellers, like directors or writers of different shows/movies/novels/etc, have become dissatisfied with how late capitalistic society has made “storytelling” synonymous with the dreaded word “content”; its so rare to find a unique work out there nowadays that isn’t just a remake of something else or relies on “meta” storytelling to be funny and original that it just oversells itself and becomes dull in the process (ahem Velma ahem). 

But as silly as it is, these MCYTs are putting their all into roleplaying as lil’ block people in a fantasy world. Even less roleplay-heavy creators are finding their places in the storytelling, and idk I can’t help but be appreciative and awed at the fact that they planned something and it actually went through for once.

#hermitcraft #empires #empires smp #hermitcraft season 9 #The Great Crossover Event #dreamsmp #the stars speak #this whole crossover has just made me really happy yall

[skqw]

Moving Bubble Temple by Zye_3 is a grandmaster routing map that uses moving red bubbles. The bubbles move back and forth along a line on a cycle, behaving just like a red bubble wherever you meet it. If you've played UFO Nest, these bubbles don't act like that -- no sitting inside them. This is one of those maps where I will just gush about the gameplay and nothing else, and that's alright.

First off, everything just works. All the moves are buttery smooth and polished to perfection. Segments will mesh together really well. The timing on the moving bubbles is impeccable. Whenever I had an issue with something feeling wrong, it's because I was doing it wrong, so I changed my approach and did it right. I never had the "immersion" break, for a lack of a better word; I never had a moment where I was thinking about the gameplay from a critical perspective. It's all just pure, perfect shmoovement. (That's not to say it's effortless. Some of it is tough as nails.)

The routing here is a work of art. There's an excellent use of space, of course, but what makes this great as an experience is the segmentation. Each room has individual parts that can be parsed fairly easily on their own. The routing challenge becomes the when: what order do I want to do the segments in. This is usually the case in the later rooms. Breaking up the rooms like this makes the map a lot less intimidating to do blind (i.e. without a walkthrough video), and I think any player at this skill level should be able to do it blind. The segmentation also makes progress easier and more rewarding, since you can learn chunks at a time and even partially sightread, instead of going input to input.

As an extension to the point of routing order and reading, the indicators in the map are exactly the right amount of helpful. There are red bubble indicators that show up in points where you meet the bubble in gameplay, so there's no guessing where a bubble is when you need it. However, that's all they tell you. No directional indicators, no numerical order. It gets real exciting when they start to overlap too, since then the bubble is going back on its cycle. There's a great mix of getting information from indicators, from level structure, and from plain trail-and-error experimentation. At no point should you feel completely lost, and finding the correct solution never fails to be rewarding.

The map difficulty is low grandmaster, mostly due to room length and complexity, but on occasion input density flares up. The map uses demohypers as a normal gameplay element; instead of being treated as a gimmick, it's just another tech in your arsenal. My demo button isn't in the most convenient place, but with one exception the extra button didn't have an effect on execution difficulty. It was a new experience for me, but still came off natural. If you're looking to play this but are worried about demos being out of your skill zone, try playing The Blizzard or Heavy Metal Mountain from Secret Santa 2023 (Medium lobby) to wear it in a little.

I think for any grandmaster player this is a transcendent experience. It has become one of my favorite maps of all time just by having some hella slick tricks. If you're at or have just graduated from high expert, this map is likely doable as well. If this isn't your jazz but still want to see it, I have a video here.

Remember to leave a like on the GameBanana page if you enjoyed! It really, really helps.

#celeste modding #celeste game #celeste #game modding

[mock-arts]

1 3 15 and 28 for ask meme!

Ty for asking anon! ❤️

1. How many works of art have you made this year?

Soooo my conservative count is 40 (it was a productive year!) but that count includes things like the animated promos I did for bangs as a single piece each, when I guess I could count them as like. 3-4 pieces stacked. I also included as one piece some things that I eventually cropped and split into two separate images to post. Etc. So minimum 40 but you could maybe say 50?

3. How long did you spend creating in an average month this year? Was any month more or less creative?

I’m really not sure I can work this out without some hefty math. I’m guessing I probably pumped out the most art in like… whatever month it was that the SWBang was posting? I feel like I did a ton of pinch hits around that time. But I also had a huge flurry of Codywan bang related activity in like. January.

Conversely, in September and October I only put in like 5 minutes at a time with weeks in between where I did nothing. I have a real boom/bust approach going on I guess. I call it “respecting the laws of dormancy in nature” when I’m feelin fancy, but also sometimes I just don’t have the time or mental energy.

15. Is there any new style/technique/medium you want to explore next year?

This is PURELY wishful thinking but I really would love to learn to make AMVs. I have some video editing experience (more than a decade old lmao) and I bought a fairly powerful computer in 2020 that I uh. Haven’t really used. And I’m willing to drop a little cash on editing software…. But intellectually, I know I barely have the time for the hobbies I’m already good at lmao.

I’ve also got a fic or two rattling around in my head that I’d like to let out, but writing requires a kind of sustained focus and lack of external stress that is rare in my life these days.

28. Did you learn anything about your art/process/style this year?

Hmmm. I feel like I learned a lot of like. Psychological bits about how I work?

Starting is definitely the hardest part, and once I’ve got a piece set up I can chip away at it however slowly I need. I just need to get it set up.

As long as I figure it out ahead of time (really plan it out with modeling etc) I can dig into pretty complex backgrounds and scenes without feeling intimidated.

Past blorbos may as well be dead to me with how much harder it is for me to draw characters I am not currently obsessed with.

#ask meme

[fairymint]

☀ What's your rp pet peeve?

There's a lot of minor little things that I don't rlly care for that largely boil down to mun behaviour, but.

overly combative attitudes. this mostly comes down to conflict, but i rlly don't think it's cute. if it's a constant personality quirk it's enough to make me block. one such example is that I don't wanna feel like somebody is going to defend me 'just' because I'm their friend. Really, i'm loathe to label people as 'enemies' or problems, so when people start to shut others out like that, I'm not fond. probably an unpopular opinion but i don't rlly believe in justification like that, that someone pops in enough evil* coins and then they deserve! to get YELLED at or sassed or insulted. like you either respect ppl or you don't. i do let a lot of shit slide but i am biased since getting angry will make me sick, so i just don't. it's just not something to expect from me.

any kinda canon-thumping or headcanon-thumping. very rare especially these days, just something I've experienced. While i don't expect or require ppl to love duplicates the way i do, there's a point where it gets a little much. once you cross the line of 'how dare you', it starts to get a bit superficial and has me rolling my eyes. remember to try not to be exclusionary. I think I vaguely remember, in the beginning 8 years ago, considering adding this or that muse and seeing an occasional mutual or figurehead in the community spouting off about how Right their tastes were and going some like 'ahaaaaa better wait on adding them. at least until i have the argument ready to bat them back in the face with lol.'

just kinda being rushed or being 'just another'. I try to respect what ppl might want, but in return kinda want My portrayal appreciated. happy medium, rlly. probably the most prevalent in shipping, romantically or otherwise. like i can respect thinking my muse is hot or the other half of ur OTP but don't tell me how my muse would court yours. or i can respect an OC that's like a fankid or relative or replaces someone AU style, but don't tell me how my muse would raise yours or treat yours. Best to plot w/ blanket concepts and i'll work w/ ya. like i am highly aware that my portrayal is unique and i try to be proud of that, not wish i was 'better' or the fandom standard or different. Hence a lot of my hcs will fall 'in between' or compromise on stuff.

more of a note than a peeve, but I appreciate a happy medium when it comes to plotting vs improv, i think. i think it would be intimidating if i personally tried to plan every detail, or consider every whacky, silly, or off brand interaction 'crack'. but i do feel more comfortable laying down general plot points so i know i'm on the same page as ppl, and to Plan or Gush. point being there are probably ppl who plot More and Less than me, which is perfectly okay cause some days i feel more like novel and others like sillies and jokes. i've had the most complex hcs spin off from little jokes tbh, as well- like emmet's gender

#ask. #munday. #a lot of this is rlly just 'if u test me i will swing.' which. yea lmfao fitting when i ha(ve/d) ptsd most of my life #*note that 'evil' might not be literal but like. replace 'annoying' 'made me feel threated' etc. whatever incites feeling Things™️ #long post. #negative jic #readmore for length tbh.

[chena-h]

Man, it's been raining so much lately. On the one hand it's nice but oof, I do not like driving in rainy weather. Way too stressful.

So, I've been in a reflective mood lately. Sure it comes with the time of year. Creatively speaking, I feel like 2022 was pretty good for me. Im feeling more confident about things I create or ideas I get than I have in the past. I'm kinda happy about that.

Definitely focused more on writing than drawing. While I didn't publish much, I did feel great about the things I did managed to complete. Started taking more notes and being ok with wips. I feel like that's helped a lot. Head feels a little less cluttered and I'm relieved to know that I have a place where I can revisit my ideas when the time is right.

Didn't sketch or draw as much as I wanted to. It's hard because I have so many pencils and pens now (my brother even got me a set of pastels I'm excited about using). I'm not one for resolutions but I'd like to make some time to practice drawing more things. More practice in colored pencil for sure and trying to get through all my pens. At some point, I would like to venture into painting with inkwashes. Watercolors seem super intimidating to me. I've only painted with acrylics a few times and I don't really have the space for it. Maybe someday.

But yeah, this year, I want to try and work on my sense of organization when it comes to my creative projects. Art wise, I tend to be scatter brained ;w; I don't know what that will look like yet, but basically I want to balance time for writing and art projects.

Art wise, I still have that thing I was mentioning last year that I want to finish. I'm about a little over a quarter of the way there, I think? Just need to practice sketching some pieces out more before I draw the final versions. After that, I have a similar project I kind of want to do as well as a short series of portraits feat. one of my blorbos. At first, I wanted it to just be one drawing but I like all the ideas too much to choose just one orz. I also am undecided on which medium(s) to use. I'll see.

Writing wise...lol, I have so many wips now! Which is good. I do feel like I'll return to the Akira manga au series at some point. I've got more scenes from that AU (and I figured out how to end it)! There's also some one shots and a shorter series I hope to finish, but I'm very particular about the order in which I publish fics so idk when that'll be. Right now, though, the bnha fics are what I'm drawn to the most so I'll likely be focusing on those. Want to finish the first part of the series I posted, continue with the Villain AU, and maybe (maybe?) get the first chapter of the other series posted??? Gonna shoot for February for that one, but no guarantees there. There's also that highly ambitious AU fic that I want to write and publish this year, but there's still kinks for me to iron out with that one.

I think this is the longest time I've focused on fanart more than anything original, which is new for me. There are some projects related to my OCs that I have kicking around. Maybe I'll get to those later in the year. I've been debating whether to post original fics to AO3. I went on a deep dive the other night looking for fics tagged as QPR because I was curious and found way more original works than I expected. I know AO3 isn't technically for that, but I generally prefer to have one dedicated place to share stuff. I do have a RoyalRoad account though, so maybe I could use that instead.

Trying to stay positive about this year.

#chena.txt

[agjust]

Nostalgia coffee

#NOSTALGIA COFFEE FULL#

#NOSTALGIA COFFEE SERIES#

#NOSTALGIA COFFEE SERIES#

Then the 28-year-old former bean counter hopes to pursue a series A round of venture capital to take the product national. Nostalgia will debut the brew bags within the next few weeks, and launch a half-million-dollar Wefunder campaign to bankroll expanded capacity. But for now, she’s invested in the first batch of one thousand, ten-bag packs to establish proof of concept. The burgeoning market for this type of product is dominated by a Northern California company called Steeped Coffee, which packs its coffee brew bags by partnering with coffee roasters across the country, including San Diego’s Dark Horse Coffee Roasters.įields is banking on Nostalgia’s established quality to gain a foothold in the category and has plans to develop brew bags with dark roast, single origin, and even decaf coffees. “We’re taking our roasted coffee and placing it in tea bags,” says Fields, “Add hot water and a mug, and you’ve got a 92 point cup of coffee.” Fields and her growing team (up to four people now), have been developing a product that will allow customers to brew a single, 9-ounce serving of Memory Lane much like they would a cup of tea. They started selling beans directly to customers online, and as things started to open back up, out of the trailer, which is now back to operating seven days a week, including at farmers markets, UCSD, and on weekends at the REI in Kearny Mesa.īut Nostalgia’s biggest move is yet to come. Their next efforts scored 93, and 94 points. They tasted through a multitude of beans to assemble a medium roast blend of Brazilian and Guatemalan beans, dubbed it Memory Lane, and received a 92-point score - putting it in the top tier of blends judged by coffee rating site. She lured friend Brandt Rakowski away from his job roasting for Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, and bought a small arc roaster for him to cook, a pound at a time. The first one: accelerating her plan to turn Nostalgia into a roasting company. Nostalgia secured an EIDL loan and PPP grant to help the business overcome the shutdown, but by July Fields had started to brainstorm new revenue sources. Of course, we all know why that didn’t end up working out. Fields managed to buy and squeeze in a larger espresso machine to handle a rise in volume. As spring 2020 approached, Intuit invited Nostalgia to show up five days a week.

#NOSTALGIA COFFEE FULL#

And when she took it to the local offices of financial company Intuit - her former workplace - workers there would line up to pay full price for Nostalgia coffee, even though they could get cups of coffee for less than half the price at the subsidized company café. In the weekly market setting the Nostalgia cart would outperform other mobile coffee shops. “If a customer wants an ice caramel macchiato?” she insists, “No problem!” Whichever plot of land her little cart found itself parked, she didn’t want that to be the case. Even asking for cream and sugar might earn a barista’s scorn. “Most third-wave coffee shops, if you’re not a coffee snob you can feel alienated,” she says. Nostalgia might serve high quality coffee, but it’s trying to do so without the specialty coffee attitude that can intimidate potential customers. That sense of welcome is paramount to what she’s trying to accomplish. But she’s found ways to make the cart inviting: by playing music, framing its service window with potted plants, and putting out a large welcome mat. Inside the trailer, there’s barely enough room for a water filter, brewing equipment, and single group espresso machine. “I’m so nostalgic for that moment when I fell in love with coffee,” she says, “And when I talk to other folks, they all have that story.” Even the name of her business reflects the lightbulb moments most coffee aficionados reminisce. The former CPA says she “decided to leave the audit world,” to pursue a growing obsession with specialty coffee, the sort of single-origin, direct-trade brews she would drink in third-wave coffee shops while studying for accounting exams. Taylor Fields started small in 2018, parking her compact Nostalgia Coffee trailer at weekly outdoor markets and corporate campuses, to sell coffee by the cup. The nostalgia Coffee Roasters coffee cart set up to serve at the Ocean Beach Farmers Market

#Nostalgia coffee

[ncteez]

chiaroscuro (m.l)

Mark Lee, choice of medium: Charcoal, Graphite, Ink, and...you???

ao3 | m.list | minors dni !! | please reblog and leave feedback on my works.

wordcount―20.3k

pairing―mark lee x fem reader (ft. hongjoong of ateez)

description―the romanticization of art school is typical and no one romanticizes it more than mark lee, the too-confident messy-haired guy who, accidentally, makes people uncomfortable. to you though? it’s kind of flattering to become his focus. 

content―college au, art student mark lee, he’s kind of creepy, y/n is also kind of creepy, jealous mark, desperate smut, art talk, hongjoong fwb, a lot of hickies,  mark is a horny college student with a reputation for making “weird” art of people

warnings―mentions of scars, bruises, and other features against skin that could imply abuse or trauma. I also tried to be as inclusive as possible, but please note that this fic includes the idea of charcoal smeared against skin and hickies.I am not intentionally leaving anyone out. If wording needs to be changed to be more inclusive, please message me.

note―shoutout to my favorite person @domjaehyun​ ​ for hearing me talk about how I fantasize about mark on campus as an art student, then mentioning that he would totally leave messy charcoal fingerprints all over you. also huge thanks to her for helping me word some things for better inclusivity! 

not proofread, because you should know by now that i don’t like that kind of lifestyle. 

taglist: @aedreamzy, @ahgastayzen​

~

             His shoulders were far broader than you’d managed to draw them, then again, this was supposed to be a quick sketch with loose limbs. Why you were stuck with him, Mark Lee as he’s known, you’ll never understand. His skill level was a feat on its own. Something was sophisticated about his works, whether they were scribbled or meticulously perfected by slender hands. Though they had offended several students and professors alike when he was prompted to draw them as a practice study, you’re interested in how he drew you. If he amplified your imperfections in the matter of the fifteen second exercise or if he had somehow made you out to be more beautiful.

             Mark was intimidating to be paired with, solely for his reputation of art style. It was scary to compete with him silently in your head and you think many other students would agree. The pretentious attitudes of always having to be better than the other sitting next to you, or in a class three hours before your own started. Everyone wanted, no, needed to be the best. Mark never tried to compete with anyone though, and it pissed everyone off. He was effortless with his marks on the paper, proud of his creations even if it ended up being, somehow, one of the worst pieces the professor had ever seen. That’s what was intimidating about him. His art was always good in his own eyes, and everyone was jealous of that. Jealous that as they perfect their works surpassing museum quality, his form of perfection ends with charcoal fingerprints smudged across crisp lines and folded corners of his quality paper.

             So here you are, paired with the one and only Mark Lee, with the exercise of drawing one another in fifteen seconds. You made his shoulders less broad, his eyebrows too arched, his eyes too rounded, uneven, unbelievably awful to look at. It looks nothing like him, and while it’s supposed to be this way, you can’t help but feel bad when you present the short sketch to him.

 “I like it.” He nods his head, flipping his own sketch in front of your face and causing you to wince.

 You’d barely gotten to see his own rendition of you before he had flipped the book back to himself and continued discussing the piece you presented, leaving little room to react at all.

 “I like the way you made me look like an alien—” He doesn’t smile, but instead talks as if he’s analyzing an art style you had intended to present.

 “It wasn’t intentional, I was trying to get everything I could before the time limit was up.” You defend, though you didn’t need to, but it feels like it’s an insult that he would assume this of all things was an intentional art piece.

 “No, really. You should do more like this,” He pauses and leans back in his chair, the chatter and laughs of other student’s critiquing each other surround the two of you as you sit silent for a moment. “It’s like a first impression, y’know?”

             He’s making conversation, and honestly you don’t know what he’s talking about. Maybe he is a little pretentious. Maybe he doesn’t compete because he already thinks he’s better than everyone else.

 “I guess? Now can I see yours again?” You respond shortly, pulling the sketch of him back and flipping to a blank page. “You didn’t even let me see it.”

             Mark hums, tapping his fingers against his chin as if he’s thinking hard. A personality like this shouldn’t throw you off, but it does. He was never ashamed to show his work, so you’re confused as to why he hid his so quickly from you.

 “I’m used to people getting all pissy about me drawing them.” He admits. “But yeah, I guess I kind of have to show you, don’t I?”

             You nod, quirking a brow at him in curiosity. You’re excited to see what the infamous Mark Lee did to your face and how he rendered it through an unsharpened graphite pencil (against the professor’s suggestion of sharpening the tool.)

             He presents it to you again by slapping his sketch book in front of you and crossing his leg in a loose way, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed as he studies you through half-hooded eyes. He looks a little too smug. “Do your worst.” He says, rocking back and forth as he watches you scan the paper.

 “It’s—um...” You stare at it, realizing how spot fucking on it is for it to be a fifteen second exercise. You recognize yourself in the sketch, from the mess of hair on your head, drawn in a perfectly loose and continuous line, straight down to the faded hickey against your neck from a heated moment that happened a few days ago. For a moment, you wonder if the blemish on the paper was accidental, but Mark’s smug face tells you otherwise when you instinctively bring your hand up to touch the matching smudge on against your neck.

             He really didn’t have to mark that down in this image, he really didn’t need to pause this bruise on your neck, forcing it to remain there through led for all of eternity. You feel a little bit seen, and he watches you look at it.

 “It looked pretty.” He admits, knowing exactly the spot your eyes were glued to. “For an entire two seconds I was wondering who got to do it.”

             You’d never really talked to Mark much before now. You talked about him with other people, you critiqued his art when it was called for, and you even admired him from afar, watching him draw on a lonely bench in thirty-degree weather thinking to yourself ‘that looks like an actual artist’. He was so weird, but sometimes he just seemed. . . interesting. It almost doesn’t feel off to be talking to him like this, because you’re an art student. You’re the forgotten freaks of the world that people don’t realize they need right?

 “You know Hongjoong?” You ask, moving your eyes from the marks on the paper back to the actual Mark, hm, clever name for an artist you guess. Irony. How artistic and cliché of him to have been given such a name.

 “Oh, yeah I had a class with him last semester, smart guy.” He looks at you, leaning forward in his chair but he maintains his slouched posture. “He did that?” He glances down to your neck, then back to your eyes.

             You nod, smirking a bit over it. You and Hongjoong were always very close, growing even closer once the two of you got into the same school and intended to follow the same path in life. This is the only class you don’t have with him this semester, but you see him multiple times a week in your free time. Sure, you guys fuck sometimes when things get stressful, but really, he’s your best friend. It’s never weird.

 “He’s an artist for sure.” Mark raises his brow, still staring at your hickey.

             Yeah, Mark is, in his own words, unique. Knowing most bodies are the same. Most people have a nose, eyes, lips, ears, so on and so forth. Even those who don’t. Maybe they’re missing a finger or an entire limb—they’re still human to him. The same, natural, boring, normal humans with the same body functions. It’s the blemishes, and bruises, and holes and scars that really get him in terms of art. The things people have that no one else on this planet can share with another person. From unique tattoos that will never disappear to the temporary hickies that show him how a person must have been feeling the day they got it. Imperfections, some would say, on a person are very telling, and it’s his favorite thing about a muse. He admires what Hongjoong did to you, almost wanting to swatch the colors the man had placed on your skin.

             His brain excites towards these things, hidden facts about a person that they unintentionally show in plain sight. Maybe that’s why people get so offended by his art? Always drawing a person with uneven eyes, just like that, uneven. Amplifying scars, or acne, or bruises both intentionally and unintentionally. Without context it could be offensive to find beauty in something that could exist simply through pain, but he doesn’t have the context. All he knows is that his form of beauty is actually the ugliest part of a person when they see themselves in the mirror.

             Truly, it’s not that he likes what most of these people go through to get these stories on their body, and he’s a little sad that his vision of them is seen as offensive rather than…y’know, a show of true adoration for their imperfect lives. Maybe they don’t like how seen he makes them feel with no effort. Maybe he’s a creep, maybe he’s insensitive in drawing something without permission though it is literally part of them. It’s who he is, and he cannot, for the life of him, stop seeing beauty in these things.

 “He definitely is.” You say, gently touching the spot against your neck, wondering if it’s really that easy to see. You thought it had faded enough, but Mark still managed to get the shape perfectly. He really did all of that in fifteen seconds, wow. “Can I take a picture of this?” You add, pointing to his sketch.

             Mark props himself back up from his leaning position in peaked curiosity, the chair squeaking as he plants his feet firmly on the ground and leans towards you on his elbows with a shrug. “Sure, I could do a lot better than this though.”

             You don’t pay much attention to him, pulling out your phone and trying to take a nice and composed picture of the sketch. But then what he said soaks in a bit.

 “Oh yeah? Are you implying you’d draw me again?” You look over at him, phone still in hand as you take another snap of the sketch.

             He smiles at you and then straightens up as the professor makes his way to the two of you. He doesn’t say much when he looks at Mark’s sketch, he just kind of grunts at it and then taps your table so that he can see what you had to present. Sheepishly, you turn the page of your sketchbook back to the atrocious image of Mark you’d scribbled down.

 “Good, Good.” The professor hums, giving Mark no critique or praise at all, but opting to make sure you were aware that you followed the exercise well.

             When he walks away and heads back towards the front of the class, most of the people move back to their regular seats, Mark stays put though, to your usual desk neighbor’s dismay.

 “There’s no assigned seating. I’m going to sit here.” He says to the girl with another shrug.

             She rolls her eyes at him and stomps to a different seat, probably a little pissed that she had to carry all her stuff over just to turn around and go back.

 “Is that cool? Can I sit here?” Mark finally questions to you, casually leaning back again.

 “I mean? I guess?”

             You try to act uninterested, honestly.

 ~

             Sitting next to each other in this class was a regular occurrence now, he really meant it when he said he was going to move seats. Always sitting there with a focused look in his eye when you appear for the shared class. The one class you don’t share with Hongjoong. It’s a bit strange actually, Mark’s weird obsession with how you and your best friend are doing. You see him study your neck most days when you show up, just to see if Hongjoong had his lips on you again. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t asking your best friend to give you more bruises though. You definitely do.

             It used to be something Hongjoong would do in the heat of the moment, you didn’t mind it either way, but now you’re asking him just to see how Mark would react to the new blemish against your skin. You know he’s drawing them, his hands never setting down his choice of medium some days when you’re next to him. You feel a little weird walking around with the swollen spots littering your neck and collarbone but honestly, it’s interesting to see the way Mark gets off on another man’s claim to you.

 “Good morning.” You say, knowing you’d worn your hair down today because you’re particularly more aware of how covered your neck is at this point. You may have gone a little overboard with Hongjoong lately.

 “Good morning, you’ve got more today.” He says instantly, reaching over to move your hair a bit so he could see them better.

             This is the first time he’s ever touched anything on your body, sure it’s just your hair but you weren’t sure how to react.

 “There’s almost nowhere left for—” Mark says, analyzing each spot on your neck and then pauses.

 “Hold on—Are you doing this on purpose?”

             You look down with a smug smirk, because of course you are. Even if you weren’t interested in Mark’s presence— any person who focuses this much on you will have equal attention back in some way. It’s fun.

 “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

             You refuse to look up but shake your head, still smiling. You’re doing it on purpose because you like the attention he gives you over it, but to make him jealous? No? He never once even acted like he was jealous. It’s honestly just a slightly too-big interest in his interest.

             He pulls away from you this time, making little graphite smudges on his paper, drawing the hickies with ease so that he can remember the shapes of them for later. They blend together in all sorts of ways, some bigger, some more raised, others are older—

 “Okay, then are you and Hongjoong exclusive or something?”

             You shake your head again in response almost frantically—worrying that the implication of dating Hongjoong would make Mark back off. You admit to yourself that maybe a small part of you is incredibly attracted to the way Mark is. . . somewhat creepy towards you. He’s very invested in your late-night rendezvous with another man, you like that. A lot.

 “Oh?” He perks his head up and looks at you again, eyes staying on yours rather than your neck this time. “Does he know his work on you doesn’t mean he has laid claim then?”

             You nod, opting to continue your silence towards his questions. Hongjoong knows well enough that you’re both painfully single. That’s the whole reason the two of you do this in the first place. You love him, but honestly? Dating him? It’s not like you wouldn’t but also you both look for very different things in a relationship, things that neither of you seem to match. Sex? You match up perfectly fine, but in the long term, you’d rather him stay in your life as a friend that gives you some really good dick.

 “Would you—” For the first time Mark hesitates as he asks his questions, paying no mind to your silence and leaning in to whisper to you a little bit. He’s thankful this class is always loud and blatantly disrespectful to the professor; it really does lend a helping hand when he’s trying to talk to you about inappropriate things. Mark stays leaned in, waiting for you to look back at him, and you can see him swallow when you finally do.

 “Would you maybe—” He hesitates again, sighing at himself. He really isn’t as confident as he sounds if he’s being honest. He doesn’t mind you knowing that though. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is—”

             You wait for him to talk, anticipating what he plans to say to you. His conversation with you seemingly one-sided to anyone else, but he knows you’re listening to him intently.

 “Are you attracted to me at all?” He finally lets out.

             You’re taken aback by this, because yeah, you are attracted to him but never have you been asked so blatantly. Then again, it’s not like you leave many hints for him to take and run with. So, you nod and finally speak up to him.

 “I mean, yeah? You’re a handsome guy.”

 “So, you would let me take over for Hongjoong then?”

             What?

 ~

  “You know, I still haven’t gotten the chance to have a re-do on drawing you.” Mark comments one morning, his eyes more tired than usual. He smells strongly of coffee and looks like he might be a little colder than he usually would be in his loose-fitting long sleeve shirt. Stained and ripped, you can’t tell if he bought it that way or if he’s just spent a lot of time in this specific top. Still, you laugh at his words.

 “Mark, you’re joking.” You look over at him again, darting your eyes to his personal sketchbook and to his hands that quickly close the book. “You draw me like, every day. You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”

             He smiles at you with sleepy eyes before breathing out a drawn-out sigh and leaning back in his chair. “Caught me.”

 “You didn’t even try to hide it, creep.” You sarcastically mock, and he furrows his brows at you.

           Part of him wonders how much of that remark was a joke. Honestly, what he’s doing can be considered creepy, but you’ve never told him to stop. You continuously come in looking prettier and prettier for him. At least that’s what he thinks, and who is he to deny himself of drawing something he likes? Sure, he’s maybe got about thirty or so drafts of you in various angles. Maybe it’s weirder that you know he draws you but he hasn’t let on just how often he will seek you out on the days this class isn’t scheduled. There might even be a sketch or two with Hongjoong standing next to you. Who knows? You don’t. You won’t know if he can help it. He’s causing no harm to you. It’s no different than drawing strangers on the bus, right? Right?

                       If he tries to be honest with himself though, and he would never, he has never really drawn the same person this many times. He’s usually gotten bored with their permanent blemishes and would seek out a new muse to fawn over for a few hours. But you? With your everchanging bruised covered neck, ever changing facial expression towards him, ever changing eyeliner that you can never seem to get perfectly symmetrical. Even the things about you that don’t change. Like the jacket you wear every day on top of the clothes that change each morning, he thinks he could probably draw it with all its folds without looking by now. Or the pair of sneakers you wear, the ones that clearly will be hitting the trash bin soon considering he can see the sole coming unglued with each passing day. The way your lips curve up when he so much as makes a sound towards you, the way your brows furrow when you’re concentrated on an art piece that would receive little critique from the professor. He hasn’t gotten bored of you, and the urge to draw every little thing about you each day never goes away.

 “I can stop?” He says, hoping that you’d disagree with him.

             You want to disagree. Because it’s so fucking flattering to have an artist fawn over you, draw you (for free???), want to be around you without competing—but. . . he hasn’t shown you a single sketch since the first day, despite trying to steal as many glimpses as you can. You just hope he makes you look pretty; you hope his sketches are worthy to him and he isn’t trashing them like you do with your own sketches.

 “Show them to me first.” You suggest, turning in your seat to reach over for his sketchbook. You know the book is intimate to look at, your own sketchbook you’d never let someone just grab. But it’s like a rite of passage almost for you, those who can grab your book without you so much as blinking an eye, is someone you’re fond of. A little strange that you’ve already internally given Mark that privilege without him knowing—you just wonder if he’s given it to you.

             He hasn’t.

 “Hey!” He whisper shouts, gripping the book from you and shaking his head in a firm ‘no’.

             And honestly, it’s not because he wouldn’t love to hear what you have to say about his mindless drawings—it’s mostly just because the majority of this book is filled with you and god forbid if you saw it. You really would think he’s creepy.

 “Why not?” You say in a childish voice, one that you’d use to argue with Hongjoong from time to time. One that got on his nerves so much to the point he would let you win just to shut you up.

 “It’s personal?” He leaves little room for you to question, clutching his sketch book and promptly tucking it into his bag and out of sight. “It’s not that I wouldn’t value what you have to say, it’s just—it’s embarrassing.” He looks at you after zipping his bag. “And it’s rude to grab someone’s sketch book, you should know this.”

             You stay quiet after this, wondering if you got too comfortable too quickly despite the weird hickey thing Mark focuses on with you. Boundaries exist and sometimes you forget when you think you’re friends with someone. Maybe he doesn’t have the privilege to see your sketch book either then.

             The rest of the class was quiet, the sound of your own medium scratching against the quality paper. It was always such a satisfying sound, but right now you’re just annoyed because you can also hear Mark’s charcoal stick aggressively making its own way across the paper a foot away from you. And when it was finally over, you felt tired and your back hurt. You were ready to go home and throw yourself into a pile of blankets on the stiff and uncomfortable bed you called your own.

           As you left, Mark never moved from his seat, and only now do you realize that he almost never leaves when the rest of the class is dismissed. You wonder how late he stays, and how early he shows up—since he does seem to always be here before you as well. Does he even go home?

 ~

             Thankfully, you had no class today. The thing with Mark yesterday shouldn’t be bothering you as much as it is, but you can’t help but feel bad for thinking you had the right to his private sketchbook—it was incredibly out of line for you to do that and you wish you could run into him so you could genuinely apologize for that. It’s an ugly quality to have, honestly, entitlement.

             No Mark though. You don’t have his number or any other classes with him through the week, the likelihood of running into him on campus during a day off should be much higher than it seems to be, but you’ll just wait until your next class with him to apologize. Instead, you meet up with Hongjoong to let him rant about some bullshit that happened in his own class yesterday.

             The two of you are walking closely in the cold, heading towards the local coffee shop that is ‘conveniently’ placed on the edge of campus. Sure, you could always go to the cafeteria’s coffee shop, but both of you would be fucking damned to pay six dollars for the same drink you can buy at the local shop for three dollars.

             Hongjoong is warm next to you when you get there, probably from the sheer rage in his blood from the day prior you assume.

 “She looked me in the eye and said—” Hongjoong gripes at you, jerking his wallet out of his pocket and grabbing cash to pay the lovely cashier who is listening in on the rant session. He pauses, gently smiles at the woman, and hands her the cash before insisting she keep the change. Only then does he turn to you to continue his rant. “She literally said, ‘hongjoong you have the worst technique I’ve ever seen.’”

             Both you and the woman at the cash register gasp at that, quite dramatic if you’re being honest. But those words from a professor must feel like a literal knife in the heart. Not only is it not constructive, but it’s blatantly dismissing a skill that Hongjoong had worked so fucking hard to develop.

 “Oh, oh no.” You reach out for him, kind of thankful that he’s mad rather than sad.

 “I didn’t even know what to say to that, I just got up and left.” He says, defeated as he wanders over to the receiving end of the counter. The woman behind sighing because she knows she can no longer listen in or hear what he has to say. “Y/n, I’m stressed.”

           It’s a simple word. One that gets used every day by all sorts of people, but it has a different meaning behind it for the two of you. Neither of you blatantly will say you’re stressed without it being an implication.

 “My roommate is home today. . .” You trail off, seeing a barista set your coffee down onto the counter. You grab it, remembering that Hongjoong just paid for it and you need to thank him.

 “Damn.” He sighs out, waiting for his own drink to be placed onto the counter.

 “Mine has class at five. Will you please just—”

 “Joong, we can have stress relief at five.” You automatically confirm for him, and he smiles at you, his angry features softening in appreciation.

 “You are my favorite person.” He says, tilting his head cutely like he always does when he sweet talks you. “I swear if we are single by the time we hit thirty five, we are going to get married.”

             You just nod at him with a smile, because yeah, for sure you’d marry him if all else fails. Because you know he wouldn’t fail as a friend or as a lover. It would be open, fair, caring, loving, even lustful—but never with the weight of a broken heart because neither of you are in love with the other.

 “Okay, lets stay here for a bit?” Hongjoong adds, grabbing his freshly made coffee and walking backwards towards the regular table the two of you claim when you’re here.

           And of course when he takes a sip of his coffee, it’s made incorrectly. He doesn’t argue it though, because coffee is coffee. He just assumes that this week is not his week as he drops his head to the table in defeat.

  ~

              It’s four thirty in the afternoon when Mark leaves his dorm so he could grab something to eat. It’s four forty when he hears a familiar voice, and it’s four forty-one when he finds the owner of that voice being clinged to by none other than Hongjoong.

             This isn’t a feeling Mark is used to. Wishing he could be someone else for a brief moment, wanting to be in a different body to experience something. He’s always experienced what he’s wanted and didn’t have many regrets he could admit to himself—but seeing you right now? Seeing you sitting all close, laughing as Hongjoong holds his arm around your waist? The waist shrouded by the jacket that only Mark could draw to perfection? It makes his insides crawl in a weird and unnerving way.

             He’s seen you with Hongjoong before, but never looking this bright, never looking this warm despite the near freezing temperature the weather is offering today. He’s never seen Hongjoong’s hands around you or on you either. Sure, he knows it happens, but anytime he’s seen it you clearly looked like just friends. Right now though? You look to be dating him. He wishes you’d sit with him like that, or hell, ask for his number or something so the two of you can hang out without thirteen other students and a professor being able to listen in.

             Mark knows that you’ll show up tomorrow with a new swell against your skin. He can tell from the way you lean into Hongjoong, and the way the man gently leans right back into you to whisper something in your ear from time to time. He can practically see the warmth radiating off the two of you, and it, for some reason, makes him lose his appetite.

             It’s four fifty when he stops watching the two of your from afar, and it’s only because Hongjoong pulls himself up and grabs your hand, leading you to what Mark presumes is his dorm. This is bullshit, Mark literally asked you if he could take over for Hongjoong. He was completely serious when he asked you, but you played it off so well. You made it obvious that it had to have been a joke. Throwing a small ‘you wish’ as a response with a wink. It was never brought up again after that and he’s really pressuring himself now to just fucking go for it. He really didn’t expect to feel jealous over Hongjoong, honestly, he didn’t.

  ~

              Devastating. Truly, having to wake up so goddamn early because your dumbass slept over at Hongjoong’s place and he has an early as fuck class. You’re technically not even allowed to sleep over, and his roommate is a snitch so you have to be extremely quiet as you leave.

           Hongjoong’s matched exhaustion shows in his face as he keeps watch for you when you leave, reminding you to take the back exit so none of the fucking math kids call you out for being in the dorm at such an hour. You do just that, as you always have—desperately needing a shower and at least another hour or two of sleep before you go to your own class at noon.

             Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen. You get to your dorm safely, freezing, and hop into the shower. That went over well enough, cleaning off the missed areas of cum you’d fallen asleep with the night before—Hongjoong definitely needed this, dude was fucking feral the moment you got into his dorm. But, when you attempted to lay down to sleep, it never came. You continue to lay there, hearing every bird and student outside of your window being as loud as they possibly can in this moment, probably to personally piss you off. You’re in such a bad mood, honestly.

             Sighing at your last attempt to sleep, your roommate’s alarm begins to blare loudly and you literally could scream right now. You throw yourself out of your bed and angrily put on your clothes. You should be in a better mood than you are, considering how many times you got off last night, but three hours of sleep isn’t fucking it bro. It’s not it.

             You opt to lazily get dressed, hair still wet, and just go to the studio. You didn’t work on the project you needed to do anyway and sitting in this fucking dorm room will just make you angrier in the way your bed is entirely available but offering no comfort.

 By the time you do get to the studio, you forgot that you need a fucking code to get in and all you can do is kick the door out of frustration. It’s cold, you’ve had no sleep, your legs are sore, you’re hungry—and then the door opens.

 “Y/n?” The soft voice croaks out, another set of equally tired eyes coming into view and greeting you with a pathetic look.

 “It’s barely nine, why the fuck are you here?” You grimace, shoving past him and plopping down into your seat.

 “I’m always here this early? I have the code to get in and the workspace is better than at my room?” For some reason, his voice is soothing you. He seems slightly concerned, maybe a little defensive and it reminds you that you need to apologize to him.

 “Mark.” You say, knocking your head flat on your table and stretching your arms out across the surface. “I’m sorry I grabbed your sketchbook without asking.”

             You can hear him let out a small chuckle in response as he makes his way back to his own place next to you. He picks his charcoal block back up and gets back to his project.

 “I normally wouldn’t mind—I’m always very proud of my work.” He admits, looking down at his current piece and feeling confident in it. “It’s just that I’m very much struggling to draw things that aren’t you.” Mark isn’t even entirely sure why he decided to admit that to you, but what’s done is done.

             You perk up in curiosity, lifting your head slightly to look at him. The sleepiness draining in an instant as he smiles back over to you. “Really?” You ask, a little dumbfounded.

 “Yeah, I guess.” He shakes his head at himself. “I’ll show you a few of them if you really want, but only because you’re clearly having a bad day and I’d rather that not be the case.”

             You sniffle a bit, only because it’s cold outside and lift yourself up. He nervously glances away from you when you shift your chair and scoot in closer to him, to the point your arms are touching. He’s incredibly warm and smells like fixatif spray, which is weirdly hot to you. “Can I see?” You say in a small voice, one that makes him soften up immediately and relax next to you.

             He reaches into his bag and pulls out the sketchbook, clearly stained and well loved. All Mark can think about is how he can’t let you see the ones he’s drawn when you weren’t aware of his presence. You’d run out of this room and straight to campus security probably, so he’s very careful when he flips through the pages, intentionally skewing your view when he turns slightly.

“I’m picking the best ones, calm down.” He laughs, trying to sound cool about it, but you keep trying to peek despite your apologies of being entitled.  “Okay here’s one.”

             You can only look for a moment before he pulls the book away and flips through more pages.

 “Here’s another one.”

             He does the same thing.

 “And this one.”

             Only now does Mark start to get red in the face because of your silence. He chickens out a little bit, pulling the sketchbook away again and immediately stuffing it back in his bag.

 “Is it creepy?” He asks, still not looking up from his bag.

 “Maybe to a non-artist. To me though? It’s kind of flattering—” You try to pinpoint specific parts of his sketches when he flashed them to you, all of them had the hickies against the neck, that much you’re sure of. “You really do like detail huh?”

 “Just you, I think.”

             You weren’t expecting this from him, but the boldness of it has a grip on you in a way that makes you feel as though you’ve had plenty of rest, a full meal, and you’re only in the studio right now because you’re a good student. All because of this weird art boy in front of you? You barely know him but you don’t really care that much.

 “Oh.” You sigh out, making eye contact with him again. He looks a little different in this moment, like his guard is down or something. “Just—me?” You try to confirm.

    “Hongjoong keeps making you interesting to draw.” He stares back at you when he offers this excuse, knowing full well the jealously he felt a day prior. Maybe this comment is coming out in the form of a passive aggressive remark as if to state you aren’t interesting without Hongjoong doing something to you. Naturally, he immediately regrets the words.

 “What do you mean by that?” You ask, pulling back a bit and widening the space between the two of you.

 “I just—think you wear the swell in a pretty way. . . “ He trails off, knowing he is sounding like a complete asshole right now, but your cheeks are warm at the words.

             It’s only nine-fifteen in the morning and you keep looking at his hands, covered in charcoal. You keep looking at the little smudge on his cheek that you couldn’t bare to point out to him, and the mess of hair that he clearly hasn’t ran a comb through. You’re not upset, if anything you’re still relishing in his comment from before about admitting that he likes you. The sketches he showed you is proof, is he getting nervous now? Pulling back because you were shocked by it?

 “Should I request he give me these hickies every time then? Any specific requests of where he should do it?”

 “You already do that. I can see the new one right—” He reaches over and presses his thumb against your neck. “there.”

             You wince only a little bit at the contact, but your cheeks continue to heat up.

 “And honestly, Y/n?” He stays leaned in this time, his confidence coming back to him because you might play it off as a joke again anyway. “I think it would be better if you’d let me be the artist for once.”

             It’s almost insane how quickly you agree to his request. Laughable even. Maybe it’s from the lack of sleep or maybe it’s because you’re insanely attracted to him in this moment but—does it really even matter? The point is, you’re entirely too interested to see where this leads and you could give less of a shit about questioning it.

 “All you had to do was ask.” You say, blinking at him and wishing you looked a lot cuter right now.

 “I did ask.”

 “Oh, you were serious?” You’re laughing now, already scooting back to your spot next to him. “You should have made that clear, because—”

 “Because?” He says, leaning back and away from you as you lean in towards him like an animal in heat.

 “I would have let you.”

             Mark freezes, wondering if what he’s hearing is true. He glares at you through squinted eyes for a moment before clarifying. “Are you fucking with me?”

 “No, I mean it.” You say, leaning in further towards him. It probably looks awkward, both of you practically look as though you’re sharing a desk at the moment, the arm of your hoodie smudging his crisp charcoal lines on the bristol board in front of him. “When?”

             He continues to stay leaned back, not because he wants to, but because if you were to lean any closer to him he would either start kissing you or lean back far enough to topple over in his chair. He stutters at your words though, relaxing his shoulders and reaching forward to move your hair from your neck. He glances down, just to see if there’s any room left at all for him to even attempt to leave a claim on you.

             Barely. He could do it over your nearly faded ones, or one dead under your chin, maybe the spot in the center of your neck where your chin would be awkwardly stabbing into the top of his scalp. He’s thinking too hard over it, but he doesn’t want to break any more veins in your neck that are only attempting to heal. It would hurt and be sensitive to the touch, and sure, when he imagines you wincing at it if he were to brush his fingers across it the day after giving it to you, it would be hot. But—

 “Unless you’re the one fucking with me?” You say to his silence, leaning yourself all the way back into your seat and propping your elbows up on the desk. Your eyes move to the clock, and honestly there’s plenty of time if he wanted to do it now. He could get away with doing it right here if he so wanted to, because the door is locked and only he has the code outside of the professor.

             Mark says nothing as he adjusts himself back into his regular position in front of his project, staring down at the smudges you had caused and deciding he likes it better this way. In fact, he could probably call the piece complete now because of you. Then he looks at you, darting his tongue out against his lip in a way that tells you he’s probably thinking about doing it right now, but isn’t sure if he should push.

 “Now?” You ask gently, squishing your cheek against your palm as you rest against your elbows, almost in a stance as if you’re daydreaming. “It would be kind of hot if you did it now.” You reiterate to him, raising a brow as if to ask if he agrees.

 “I can do that.” He says in a small voice, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

 “Then do it.” You say, rolling your head so that your hair shifts away from your neck.

             It’s a little awkward, he thinks, but he still stands to his feet and closes the distance between the two of you. You’re still sitting, only shifting your eyes up to him and giving him a look as if you’re waiting for him to position you in whatever way is most comfortable for him. He isn’t entirely sure of how to do it, because he’s never just given someone a hickey without kissing them at the very least. He’s never done something like this in his learning space or workspace either, but he’s so willing when you suddenly push back in your chair and stand to your feet in front of him.

             You’re standing so closely it almost shocks him and he has to remind himself that he’s supposed to be attaching his lips to your neck in this moment—so he does. Awkwardly.

             The position isn’t ideal. In fact, it’s pretty uncomfortable just standing there in front of him when he cups your cheeks and skews your head to the left. You can feel the cool air of the room replaced by his gentle warm breath, and then his lips attaching to a place you’ve surprisingly never felt before.

             Right beneath your ear lobe, slightly against your jaw line, he licks against you before sucking hard. His hands are holding your face in place so that he can angle his own against your skin, you can feel him gently move one hand away and loosely rest against your lips, fingertips sitting across the plush surface.

           In all honestly, it felt so good you almost moan over it, which would be entirely too embarrassing to actually do. His one hand firmly holding the other side of your face by the jaw, the other hand resting against your lips and chin, his lips pressing harshly against your skin as he attempts to bring any amount of swell against the vacant flesh—you seriously almost forget that you’re just standing there with him. No roaming hands, no panting, no making out, no removing clothing—nothing more than a simple hickey in the early morning in the middle of a classroom you’re both about to have to sit through together for a full three and a half hours.

             You’re a little dazed, you’ll admit, when he pulls back with his own lips slightly reddened. Probably because he had sucked quite hard against your skin there, his lips may have gotten caught up in it too.

 “Pretty.” Mark hums quietly when he looks at you again, tucking your hair behind your ear so that he can look at the work.

             You’re entirely silent, feeling a little dizzy when you regain control of how you’re feeling right now. A bit of tingling is left in the area he had been working on, and when you reach up to graze your fingers across it you can already feel a slight swell. It’s still damp from his tongue, even a little raw. Hongjoong had never left one this quickly on you, nor has he ever been that aggressive with his mouth. You look up at Mark.

 “This is new for me—” You very nearly stutter, but thankfully it came out smoothly and weirdly confident. “No one has ever even kissed me there before.”

 Mark says nothing at first, finally stepping back from you as casually as he can while trying to place his hands in front of his not so obvious growing bulge. He is genuinely trying not to think about the fact that he just got to give you a hickey. It definitely wasn’t on his schedule today, but to be fair he would free up an entire day just to do this on other places if he’s being honest. And it’s not that he’s insanely horny all the time or anything, it’s mostly the fact that he hasn’t been laid in like six months and this is the first time he’s had any form of intimate contact since then. He hopes you don’t notice his desperation through his pants, he would never come to class again in that case.

 “So—” He coughs, sitting down in his seat and sighing out of relief because you seemed to have not taken notice of his hard on. “That spot?” His confidence comes right back upon finally studying your face as you look back at him, taking your own seat. “Hongjoong can’t have it.”

             Mark is already possessive, having claimed a spot on your body that he expects no one else should be able to have. Weirdly, though you would never be attracted to a man trying to ‘claim’ you, you’re insanely attracted to it when it comes from Mark.

 “It’s all yours then.” You finally mutter out, still touching the spot and feeling the warmth radiating from it. “Hongjoong can’t have it.” You confirm, eyes darting up to meet his.

             Both of you are warm in the cheeks, and trying so hard to sound cocky and confident, but it isn’t working. You’re both being shy despite the conversation of claiming at hand. You wonder when he will ask to do it again and if you can manage a kiss out of him.

 “Can I have your number then?” Mark finally coughs out, attempting to get back into the right headspace for class later—though there is still plenty of time to keep doing whatever it was the two of you were doing.

             All you do is nod, handing him your phone.

 ~

             It’s only a slight obsession, honestly. Not at all one that would cause you to take photos of the spot or save Mark Lee as your phone background. Except you have taken photos of the spot, though you haven’t quite gone as far as the wallpaper thing yet. Sure, you maybe sort of kind of save the random selfies he sends to you—and you maybe sort of kind of don’t tell him that you like him genuinely so much already.

             The spot though, the one just beneath your earlobe is an obsession now. You’re more aware of the sensations when your hair hits it, or when you touch it yourself. Several times now Mark has left claim there, always coming up with the excuse to do it again when he can no longer make out the shape he had so perfectly left there.

             You’re also a little obsessed in the way his eyes react truth though his words do not when he takes notice of Hongjoong’s less aggressive hickies still appearing. Mark knows he claimed a spot on you, but how come Hongjoong gets the whole of your body and he only gets this one hard to see space? Is his work on you not worth flaunting?

             Still, Mark loves that spot. Loves the way you get all dazed about it when he finishes bringing the swell back up—it’s just, as the days pass, he wants more from you. Selfishly maybe, he wouldn’t know because he doesn’t know how to communicate it to you. Clearly, you’re still having fun with Hongjoong, if you wanted more from Mark he assumes you would have suggested it by now.

             On this day, it should feel like the others where two of you meet hours before class starts, and without fail by this point Mark would have made excuses in order to get his lips on your neck again. Never kissing, never roaming hands, always just a hickey that ends in both of you flustered for the remaining time you spend together. Except this morning you’re not here, and you’re not responding to Mark’s nine a.m. texts asking if you’re okay.

             Of course, he doesn’t expect you to respond to him every time he texts, it’s just—you usually do. Even if it’s at midnight and can’t bring himself to sleep, you’re always texting back with a youtube video you tell him he should fall asleep to. He won’t lie, some of those videos gave him some intense nightmares, but it put him to sleep, nonetheless. You’re not texting him back this time though, and it has been at least an hour since he’s sat in his seat anticipating that you’ll knock on the studio door with your hair already behind your ear.

             He sits there for about two hours until deciding to go grab himself something to eat before class starts. His appetite is a little bit shot if he’s being honest, mostly because he might be a little worried about why you’re not responding to his texts, or in front of him right now. If he doesn’t eat now though, and you don’t respond soon, he might not eat at all if he’s being honest. That weird, insecure feeling that he used to get so often coming back to him. Did he do something wrong? Did he flirt too much? Did you finally decide that what the two of you are doing is definitely creepy?

             He’s overthinking when he leaves his stuff on his desk, and over thinking when he leaves the studio, and over thinking when he makes his way to the cafeteria. He overthinks the breakfast of granola, overthinks the overpriced coffee, and overthinks where to sit. He feels fucking stupid for how dramatic his brain is being right now. It’s just one day? You don’t show up or respond one time and he’s panicked like this? Insane, pathetic.

             His granola tastes bland, the yogurt scratching no spot of his brain in terms of enjoyment, and the coffee is lukewarm. Everything is stupid. Including Hongjoong, who looks like he doesn’t have a worry in the world when he walks through the cafeteria doors with his stupid hair and his stupid clothes—wait.

             Mark fumbles his last bite of bland breakfast into his mouth before swiping it off the table and throwing it into the trash bin, making his was up to Hongjoong with a subtle sort of confidence. Mark tries to sound nonchalant, considering he’s never actually talked to the dude before.

             He walks up, wiping his hands on his jeans and then clapping Hongjoong on the shoulder.’ Chill out Mark, you don’t know him like that,’ he thinks to himself, quickly pulling back when Hongjoong’s soul appears to jump out of his body quite literally at the sudden contact.

 “Oh—” Hongjoong breathes as he turns to face Mark, hand on his own heart. “Scared the shit out of me—” He breathes before smiling at him.

             Mark is immediately comforted by Hongjoong’s casual demeanor towards him, relaxing a bit as he stands awkwardly in place, obviously with something to say.

 “Can I – uh— You good? Do you need something?” Hongjoong looks at him with a quirked brow, kind of eyeing him down, because honestly, if Mark is gonna randomly walk up to him like this, he probably has a reason.

 “Oh! Right.” Mark says, condemning himself for being so fucking awkward. “You and Y/n are close right?

             Hongjoong nods with a smile. Because of you, he knows all about Mark.

 “Have you seen her today?” Mark tries to ask as casually as he can, scratching the back of his neck.

  Hongjoong is a little caught off guard, but only because Mark must really be curious considering he’s reaching out to him. Honestly, they don’t talk. They may have shared classes but never have they considered each other more than an acquaintance. All Hongjoong knows is that Mark is the guy who keeps sucking on his best friend’s neck.

“Oh, have you guys not talked?” Hongjoong quirks a brow, sounding a little cocky. “She was up all night, so she slept in this morning.”

 “Oh—” Mark says with a sigh. He feels a little better, because you haven’t responded to his texts and if Hongjoong is telling the truth he probably shouldn’t be as worried as he is. Wait— how come Hongjoong knows that you slept in, but he doesn’t?

 “Did she tell you that, or?” Mark questions awkwardly.

 “Seeing as how she was asleep in my dorm when I left, yeah—”

             Mark automatically assumes you had sex with Hongjoong again, and maybe he marked you in the spot he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe that’s why you didn’t come to class—maybe—

 “Oh, okay.” Mark already starts to wander off with a small ‘thanks’ before his ears perk up.

 “245.” Hongjoong sighs out, aware that you’re very much interested in Mark but have mentioned numerous times that you don’t think Mark’s feelings are mutual outside of the whole—hickey thing.

 “245, what?” Mark asks as he turns back to Hongjoong.

 “That’s my dorm room number, go wake her up.” Hongjoong laughs. “And Mark?”

             Mark is just standing there, unsure what to do with this information.

 “If you like her or something, can you just say it?”

 “Like her? Don’t get the wrong idea.” Mark attempts to hide any ounce of care he’s obviously showing for you through a laugh—realizing how desperate he must look to Hongjoong right now.

 “Oh, so it’s okay if I go home and keep her awake all night again?” Hongjoong smirks, knowing full well that Mark has a thing for you when his face falls at the words.

             Mark glares for a moment. It really is competition, huh?

 “Maybe you should tell her that you’re the one who likes her— Just a bit of advice.” Hongjoong adds easily. He knows you like the back of his hand, and if Mark is trying to shoot his shot he’d better get on with it so Hongjoong can start mourning his future lack-of-sex-life.

             He takes a few steps towards Mark and throws his arm over his shoulder this time, seeing how awkward the man in front of him seems in this moment. “Mark, we don’t know each other in the slightest, but I’m sure she’s told you about our little thing, right?”

             Mark nods his head, feeling a little uncomfortable, looking over at Hongjoong and seeing a glimpse of a hickey on his neck. It’s small, dainty almost. He wonders if you did that.

 “If I wanted to date her, I would have tried already. But you wouldn’t be looking for her this morning if you didn’t feel something for her—you wouldn’t be talking to me to see where she is.”

 “Fair enough.” Mark finally admits, because there’s no point in lying. He would just make a fool of himself considering Hongjoong seems to know well enough what’s going on. In fact, most of his worry drained away the moment he heard Hongjoong say that. “So, what? You want me to go to your dorm and do my thing then?”

 “Do not.” Hongjoong warns with a grimace, pulling away from Mark. “Just like, go see her or something. She’s always bringing you up—I’m sure she would be happy to know you’re looking for her.”

 “Oh yeah? Then why hasn’t she responded to my texts?” Mark interrogates without intention, coming across as a little more toxic than he was intending. It’s not to control you, or to claim possession over you—it’s more to have his own insecurities answered. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize that he is grasping for as much relief as he can find, even for the smallest questions floating around in his head.

 “Probably because, like I said, she’s asleep?”

 “Okay, but. . . would she really be happy to know that I’m—” Mark needs to hear what Hongjoong has to say, even if he’s coming across as too strong. When Hongjoong sighs out of frustration at him though, he feels like maybe he pushed a bit too far with this half question.

 Hongjoong just looks at him and shakes his head. He knows that if shit gets bad with Mark, you will at least have him in the end—but clearly you and Mark got some shit to work out. The poor dude looks like he’s about to cry and Hongjoong doesn’t even think Mark notices his own facial expressions right now.

 “Because she said only you’re allowed to touch her if it isn’t me, and from what I can see, you haven’t gone below the neck yet. And she’s been—” Hongjoong looks around to make sure no one is listening. “She’s been wearing me out the past few days, I thought she was stressed or something, but after meeting you officially—I can see why.”

��            Mark blushes a little, feeling warm and jealous still at those words. Hongjoong didn’t mean it to sound sexual though it definitely was, it was more the fact that he can tell Mark must be insufferable to have feelings for since the dude refuses to admit he’s interested—and seems very clearly insecure about his feelings for you.

 “So, like, I don’t know? Go take her to your dorm?”

             Mark doesn’t know why, but he smiles at Hongjoong with a nod. The confirmation he needed should have come from you, but he’s thankful enough that Hongjoong seems ready to step the fuck off for a bit. He would figure that if you hadn’t said something about him before, Hongjoong would be up in arms about him looking for you. That must mean something right?

             Mark leaves class feeling something different inside of him that day. He didn’t go to Hongjoong’s dorm to look for you, nor did he worry about the fact that you didn’t text him back until late that afternoon. Hongjoong just lit a fire inside of him. Competition or not, Hongjoong is willing to lose if it’s what you want.

  ~

           Hongjoong has abandoned you, and to be fair he did say you were ‘wearing him out’ or whatever. It has been upwards of a week since he’s last needed you, and even casual hang outs feel scarce right now. Sure, he’s working hard on school work for the classes the two of you do happen to share, and sure he has huge projects—but so do you? Usually this is the season the two of you really get it on, but instead he’s just, aloof? Making excuses? You’re not sure, maybe he’s found a girlfriend or something? You aren’t entirely sure why he wouldn’t just tell you if that were the case either though? Because you’d be happy for him and knock it off with the needy horny texts?

             It’s not even that Hongjoong was worn out, it’s just that he does actually have to shift his focus to a few other things right now that don’t involve getting his dick wet every night. You really are seeking him out more often for the sexual favors compared to the semesters before when the two of you did this. It’s gotten to the point that he wouldn’t have any free time if he keeps accepting your requests, and it kind of makes him feel a little used considering he knows half of the time you just wanna get laid because Mark wont step up his game.

 So, even while Hongjoong makes excuses, Mark appears to be more. . . available. Meaning, some of your horny texts tend to go to the man giving you the most attention. You’re not being entirely horny towards Mark or anything, mostly just a lot of intense flirting via text and any time you’re around each other. The hickey he had given you originally stays in place each time he gets a chance to attach his lips to you too—maybe even placing a few more since Hongjoong is too busy to do it himself these days.

             On the down low, Mark wonders if Hongjoong is giving him time to shoot his shot. He feels giddy each time he sees how empty and vacant your neck has become, the only swell coming from his own mouth. He feels on top of the world knowing you’re getting absolutely nothing from Hongjoong, now if you’d just. . . yknow, give him a green light or something.

             This morning, still early of course, both you and Mark are doing your regular routine together. Sitting, chatting a little bit before shooting each other a knowing look. Only this time Mark isn’t biting the bait. He crosses his arms instead, leaning forward in his chair and looking at you with squinted eyes.

 “Let me kiss you.” He speaks out, breaking the silent comfort in the room around you.

             You’re taken aback a little bit, though it shouldn’t be a strange request considering he’s already hovered over you several times licking against your neck.

             Mark, on the other hand, feels warm and confident right now. He hasn’t fully confronted you with any type of feeling he holds towards you since Hongjoong encouraged him over a week ago. Instead, he’s been working up his courage through flirting. Each time he flirts, you always double the energy back to him—so maybe, you feel mutual? Maybe he is special like Hongjoong implied? It would be kinda nice if you stopped making him do all of the work though.

 “Was wondering when you’d bring that up.” You say nonchalantly, standing to your feet like you always do. “Kiss me then.”

 “Kiss me first to prove I’m not the only one who thinks about it.”

             You scoff, tilting your head to the side as you stand in place and watch him. He stays put, lounging in his chair like it’s the most comfortable place he could be in this moment.

 “You think I don’t imagine it?” You bellow out it in somewhat sarcastic way, chuckling a little as you lean over him, placing your hands on your knees to study his face. “You’re joking, right?”

             Mark shoots his hands up in defense, his eyes glancing away from you in what you can only read as panic, and then he shakes his head. “I’m not, actually. You never ask for m—” He tries to say, but you cut him off with an immediate kiss. One that he should have expected in all honesty, but he didn’t. His hands are still up in a defensive manner, his eyes still open, and his brain trying to process the fact that for the first time, your lips are on him.

             You could have kissed him anywhere in this moment, he thinks. His forehead, his nose, his neck, his boots—hell, any semblance of your lips against him is enough for him to call it a genuine kiss at this point. He’s almost angry that he didn’t get to enjoy it long enough because he was too busy realizing, but you’ve already pulled back, and he’s still sitting there in the same position as before. Hands still up, eyes still open.

 “Are you—um…” You trail off when you pull back further from his face, still leaned over and studying him. “Hello?”

 “I—” Mark pauses, having no solid thought in his head to offer. It’s like? You guys didn’t even make out? His lips have done far more to your skin than what you’d just offered up to him and it still has him frozen in space. You kissed him the same way puppy-lovers do. Timid, silent, gentle. It was just your lips against his, no moving, no breathing, nothing more and nothing less than a simple pop kiss— but he still thinks it was the best sensation he could have felt today.

             It could simply be because, again, he hasn’t been laid in the past six or so months and the only contact he’s had is by his own fist. If not that, it’s just aggressive suckling against your neck where he gets nothing from it outside of knowing a pretty girl lets him do that to her.

 “Mark.” You say, lifting yourself from your leaned position and reaching out to tap him on the cheek for a second. “You literally told me to kiss you?”

             You can’t lie, it feels a bit like a rejection. There was no effort to that kiss, you simply did it to prove to him that you would. What you expected in return was a deepening of the kiss considering he’s the one who suggested it. He’s the one who admitted to thinking about it, he’s the one who wanted you to do it because he was unsure that you even wanted to…and yet, he just sat there.

 “I’m sorry! I didn’t, like, I didn’t think you’d just do it?” He finally admits in a small stutter, his hands finally falling to grip the seat of his chair.

             Without hesitation, you lean forward again. Your lips barely in front of his as you keep your eyes fixated on him. “Well, I did.” You whisper out to him, feeling as if you’re in full control of the situation. Mark, the man who seems so confident, with such big energy, looking completely small and helpless beneath your hovering body.  “Do you want me to do it again?”

             He just looks at you, darting his eyes down to your lips only for a moment before nodding and fluttering his eyes closed.

 “Do it yourself then.” You complain, pulling back from him completely and moving to your seat. You don’t miss the way he leans forward in chase of the anticipated kiss that never came, and it makes your heart beat a little faster.

             Mark doesn’t say a word as he studies you in shock and what appears to be embarrassment. He’s frustrated that he’s the only who always has to pull the moves, because it makes it hard to see what you want from him clearly. You look back at him intently, blowing him a short kiss and winking with a chuckle. “I’ll be here all day, take your time.”

             He’s quick to move this time, silent and swift, lunging forward to grab at your chair and roll you quickly back over to him. He braces his hands on the seat of your chair now, seemingly locking you in place when he leans forward. “I wasn’t prepared.” He seethes out, staring at you.

 “Are you prepared now?” You smirk, tilting your head again in a way that makes him feel like you pity his attempt to be attractive right now. In reality, your cheeks are growing warmer and warmer at the interaction. “Because you say you want to kiss me, but you didn’t even kiss back.”

             He narrows his eyes at you, feeling like you might just be his favorite person on the planet right now despite never making the first move. Still, you’re his favorite in the way you look so pretty, in the way you don’t push away from him, in the way you kissed him without hesitation, in the way you just—continue to surprise him more and more.

             Mark does it this time. Slotting his lips against yours before you can mock him any further. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against your cheek when he does it, and you can also feel the need for him to kiss you this time. It’s exactly what you wanted.

             You wanted him to kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you back. And he does it so well, deepening the kiss by the second each time he pulls back only slightly to get a better angle at your lips. You can feel his forearms against your legs, keeping you in place in your seat when he drags the chair even closer to him, spreading his legs so he can slot yours between them.

             You squeal a little at the movement, but he doesn’t react and dives right back into kissing you. He wants you to know how good he is at it, needs you to know his mouth can do a lot more than marking spots against your skin and speaking artsy terms. Only so, if anything, you’re the one chasing this time.

             You’re a little dizzy by the time he trails his lips down to your neck, right to the familiar spot below your earlobe.  He wastes no time in blemishing it harder than he ever has before—that’s when you take a moment to roll your head back and bask in the sensation. It’s a lot less than you’d prefer to have right now, but enjoyable, nonetheless.

             Being trapped by his arms like this is so much nicer than when the two of you would stand and do this. Better than the time he held you against the wall to do it, better than when you imagined him doing this to you in the comfort of your own dorm—and not in a brightly lit drawing studio. Even when Hongjoong had been doing this to you in much more pleasurable situations, from time to time your mind would drift off to the thought of Mark doing it instead. Kissing you, sucking your neck with his fingers plunging into you, pressing your legs further apart—all sorts of things.

             This solidifies the lustful imagery you’d kept to yourself. He kissed you like he wanted it despite the awkward first attempt, and then, without permission or excuses this time, he’s left claim on you again.

             When he pulls back from your neck, he just stares at you with a glazed over look. He knows his body is way too excited right now and he can’t bring himself to care too much when he sees the way your eyes stare back at him, implying that you must feel the same in this moment. But then he sees you dart your eyes down and his cock twitches on instinct, as if your gaze sent some sort of sensation to it. His cheeks drain and he groans, pulling back and slapping a hand over his eyes.

 “What are you being so shy for?” You laugh nervously, having noticed the quite large bulge sitting against his leg beneath the fabric.

 “I’m so creepy—” He whines out, and it’s endearing to you. “I like it.” You assure him, trying to turn him in his chair to face you again. “Just don’t be creepy with other people. I might get jealous.”

             You leave class that day knowing full well why Mark left before you could even grab your jacket. He always stays after, but not today. You decide he’s probably just going to go rub one out, much like you’re about to do considering Hong-fucking-joong is too busy putting a padlock on his cock.

 ~

              You’re cracking at the seams. Hongjoong won’t budge, and it’s been at least a week since you and Mark decided to just have random make out sessions whenever time allows it. That means you’ve had a solid two weeks of no fucking, and a solid week of making out with your incredibly hot classmate who gets hard every single time. He never hints that he needs more from you though, never pushes, never anything more than making out. You’re not sure why, but you also never push. It’s not like you’re hiding it though, you are making it obvious to Mark that you’d very much let him in your pants.

             His texts are as casual as ever, and you wonder if you’re really the only one who wants to absolutely get fucked senseless at this point, despite his raging hard-ons that he hides not so well. It’s pissing you off. Every selfie he sends, you wonder if it’s before or after he jacked off to you. Every text he responds a little too slow to, you wonder if he’s one handing it and in the process of getting himself off.

 Maybe you’re the creep.

 You: are you jerking off rn?

 Mark: …..why

 You: idk you haven’t texted me yet since we left class?

 You: you always text me after you get home

 Mark: what if I am?

 You: are you?

 Mark: you’re being weird

             You definitely are, but it’s not like he didn’t spend half of this semester obsessing over how Hongjoong sucked on your neck? It’s not like he doesn’t make out with you every morning and warn you not to let Hongjoong have his spot on your skin. He’s fucking weird too?

 You: I learned it from you

 Mark: brb

             Sighing, you toss your phone onto your bed and wonder why the fuck you haven’t just masturbated. You’re sure that’s what Mark is doing anyway, kinda fucked up he won’t just tell you…or call you, and like…moan your name by accident or something.

             Cracking. You are absolutely bursting out of the world of sanity simply because you don’t want to use your own hand?! Since when did you ever have to do all of the work yourself when you’re feeling spicy? Why the fuck does Mark just settle with his own hand? Why doesn’t he just, like, come over right now? You pounce back to your phone.

 You: you’re jerking off, don’t lie

 Mark: stoppp omg, no im not

 You: then call me and prove it, ill be counting your breaths

             Mark does call you, and he was not, in fact, jerking off. It kind of offends you if you’re being honest. Even despite your intense and forward flirting, he’s casual and flirts right back as if he’s not in a hurry or anything. Well, you are. He doesn’t even text you to ask why you hung up on him either, what an easy life he must be living.

             Without your knowledge though, the way you’ve started acting towards Mark has, ultimately, excited him beyond belief. He is doing his best to remain calm, working hard to seem as cool and collected towards you as he possibly can—because he doesn’t want to come across as desperate or like he’s been waiting for it. The reality is that he definitely did start fucking his hand the second you hung up on him. The harsher reality is that, not only did he want to immediately call you back, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to not appear desparate.

             Anyway. Thanks to Mark being too cool for school, you opt to try again with Hongjoong.

 You: why do you hate me?

 Hongjoong: you are so dramatic, and way too horny during crunch time. do your projects or ill never touch you again.

             Hongjoong? The worst. Mark? The devil.

 ~

             It’s been another week. Absolutely dry. When you take a step it feels like your thighs are cracking for the sheer dryness between them. Even worse? Mark didn’t show up early today. You sat outside of the door for what felt like ages before he came bopping up to you like everything was all sunshine and fucking rainbows, typing in the door-code like some— some—buffoon. He looked so good though, his lips were pretty, and his hair was actually brushed, your eyes stayed narrow and trained on him as you internally compliment how stupidly attractive he is.

             You don’t even realize how your entire mood and attitude has changed from confident to – too confident around Mark solely because, if you had a dick, you wouldn’t be able to see past it right now. You’re literally thinking with your clit at this point.

             Mark on the other hand, knows his time is running out before he, too, cracks and gives in. He doesn’t even know why he hasn’t yet, but it’s probably because he’s really enjoying the way you’re clinging so hard for his attention, demanding it, actually. He’s not the only desperate person in this situation, he assumes.

 “Where were you this morning?” You ask as casually as you can, already rolling your chair over to Mark in hopes of making out with his stupid pretty face again. It may not be exactly what you want, but at least it’s something.

 “Why? You came early so we can make out again?” He wiggles his brows and chuckles, as if that hasn’t been the plan since the two of you started doing this in the first place.

 “Yeah.” You deadpan, tapping your foot as you look at him with disappointed eyes. “And you left me hanging.”

 “Y/n, look at the time.” He is very much endeared by you right now, finally pointing out that he was one hundred percent on time as usual this morning. “What does the clock say?”

             You glare at him, wondering what he was getting at before realizing.

 “It’s—” You throw your head back in a groan for your own stupidity. “It’s nine thirty.”

 “How long were you waiting here, being all mad at me about it?” He slouches his shoulders, happy that he’s starting to feel so entirely comfortable around you that he couldn’t possibly fuck things up at this point.

 “A…while..” You whisper.

             Mark coughs in response, not realizing you’d actually just admit to have been waiting that long for him. “You are literally— so my type. Jesus Christ.”

             You groan again, slapping yourself on the forehead for not getting that extra hour of sleep. To be fair though, you didn’t look at the clock at all and just assumed he would be here waiting for you all the time. Wait—

 “I’m what?” You question for clarity and Mark just looks at you with a very amused smile.

 “You heard me.”

 “Actually, I don’t think I did.” Narrowing your eyes further, you lean towards him. “By the way, the hickey you gave me is fading, what are you going to do about it?”

             Mark smiles at you, rolling your chair back and away from him with his foot. “Nothing.” He says, feeling, for some reason, on top of the world.

             You’re being needy, and quite frankly, you’re doing a terrible job at hiding it. He feels so in control right now and it’s clear what you want if he goes by your texts alone. Is he also vibrating in his skin wanting to lunge at you? Absolutely. Do you realize it? He has no fucking clue how you don’t already.

 “Y/n,” Mark starts, watching you glare back at him in disbelief. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” He explains in a cheerful voice, pulling out his paper and flipping to find a new page. “It’s just—” He bites the inside of his cheek to decide if he wants to say it or not.

             He does.

 “You’re really cute when you don’t get what you want.” He smiles at you again. “And if you really want something, I think you should just take it.” His heart pounds when he says it because he is absolutely alluding to the fact that he thinks what you want, just so happens to be him.

 He studies you for the remainder of the class. You look a lot more needy than he does, and suddenly, he doesn’t feel embarrassed anymore about all of the boners he’s hidden from you.

  ~

  “Mark—” You whisper into the phone as soon as he answers it. You’re being quiet in an attempt to not bother your studious roommate, but she still glares at you for somehow finding all of the time in the world to do things that aren’t studying or final projects. You’re not gonna just like, ignore the fact that you have piles of shit to do, it’s just—y’know—you’re gonna get laid first.

 “Hm?” He hums back as if you were calling out for him in class, casual, sweet almost, and you can hear his papers crinkling through the speaker at you.

 “Seriously? Are you studying too?” You groan, eyes darting to the empty blanks on your own study guides that you really should have already filled in. You have too much energy inside of you right now, but none of it can be spent on studying.

 “Yeah? Finals are like, really soon—” You can hear the crinkling of papers on his end go silent and then he speaks again. “Why aren’t you studying?”

 “I cant.” You deadpan, staring directly at the wall in front of you and deciding you should just go to the club or something since all of your favorite men are too busy being good students. Then again, a club on a Tuesday probably isn’t popping with any sort of possible lust interest.

 “Why not?” Mark is amused at the tone of your voice, already putting studying to the side so that he can sit here for however long just to hear you drone on. “Do you want to study with me?”

 “Please—no.” You groan, causing your roommate to jolt in annoyance. You wave your hand in an apology as you try to lower your voice again. “Can you take a break and just talk to me for a little?”

 “I’m glad you asked. I definitely need a break.” Mark agrees with a sigh, stretching his body out against the uncomfortable chair. You can hear it squeak through the phone and you wonder what he looks like right now.

             On one hand, Mark really does need a break from studying and meticulous artwork—on the other hand, if that break includes you, he’s going to need another break for at least a solid hour after you’re done with him. Mostly so he can release all of his tension in the only way he knows how.

             He wonders when you’ll make a move, and if you even want to at this point. Maybe you’re waiting for him to do it. Which isn’t fair, considering everything the two of you have already done has been by his own suggestion. That should be enough to show you that he would very much put his head between your legs if you wanted him to, right?

 “So…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he pushes himself from the desk and stands to his feet. “What do you wanna talk about?”

             And god. It’s like the two of you are so aware of each other but neither of you push for what you both, very obviously want. Mark fills his mornings with frantic thoughts of ‘will today be the day?’ Working on his projects more aggressively than usual at the very thought of never getting to try. His mornings used to be for working on his art, but now it’s just working on you. He doesn’t even know at this point if you’re an art piece or someone who is actually, genuinely, interested in him beyond the simple pleasures of a make out session and hickey.

             All of your flirting point to the one thing he wants, the way you move when you’re with him as well. But you just. . . you don’t do anything else? And it’s fucking confusing to him considering how open and honest you genuinely are. It’s like, you imply you want him but you don’t take him when he, himself, makes it clear that he wants you too?

             Even still, on the phone, you’re quick to begin the hushed flirting on your end, diving straight into the whole reason this started happening in the first place.

 “Y’know, I think I’d be sad if someday, you stopped drawing me.”

 “Why is that?” Mark isn’t thrown off at all, he knows you’re edging on the line of flirting right now, he’s grown used to it despite it practically going nowhere.

 “Because it would mean you’d found an interest in someone else, and I –”

 “Y/n.” Mark snaps. He’s tired now and has decided that, once again, he’s going to be the one pushing for what he wants. He loves the clinging and the needy voice you have every time he pulls back from kissing you, but at this point— “If you keep doing this to me, I’m going to die.”

 He wants you to stutter and blush so badly, he wants to hear the way you sound when he makes you feel warm and recognized as someone that is, quite literally, driving him up a fucking wall—

 “Do you want to come over right now?” He suddenly says, barely letting you process what he said before.

 “Depends on what you’d want to do if I did.” You laugh, trying to tease but ultimately teasing yourself at the way you don’t immediately accept the invite. This is what you’ve been waiting for, right?

 “Can you stop flirting for ten seconds and just tell me what you want?” Mark scolds, crossing his legs on his bed and waiting for your response. When it doesn’t come, he continues. “Are you really going to make me be the one to say it?”

             A tingle in your stomach and you’re already feeling warmth between your legs (only because you’re sex-starved right now) at the very idea of what he may be suggesting to you. You’re glancing over at your roommate out of fear of how loud you may end up being within the next three seconds.  

 “No, I’d say it if my roommate wasn’t three feet away from me right now.” You let out in a whisper, wondering if the two of you are on the same page.

 “You’ve had so many opportunities to say it before now. So, I’ll ask again.” Mark feels like he’s vibrating right now, mad that he’s always the one to get the point across because you always seem too stubborn to do it yourself. “Do you want to come over?”

 “Yes.”

  “What would you want to do then?” He asks you this time.

             You sigh, standing to your feet and making your way to the bathroom, then turning on the fan so your roommate can’t hear you. “Mark, I am literally going fucking insane.” You say in one deep breath. “And honestly, I know you can do a lot more with your mouth than kissing.”

 “You sound so pretty when you talk like that, you know?” He sighs in relief at your words, his body tensing at the same time. “What took you so long? Did you need my permission to tell me these things or something?”

             You pause, realizing the eggshells you’re walking on.

 “I. . . did need the green light, just this one time.”

             It is confirmed for Mark.

 “You can do whatever you want to me.” He says blankly, sitting himself up in his bed and looking down at the forming bulge, feeling pathetic at how you don’t even have to try and he would probably beg you for more at this point.

 “Then I want to come over.”

 “Hm, then what though?” Mark teases again, standing himself up to clean up a little bit, mostly so his bulge goes down and he doesn’t look so fucking pathetic when you show up.

 “Mark.” You say pointedly, not wanting to outright say the words. “Give me your address.”

 “You know, my roommate will likely not be home tonight, you can sleep over.”

             You’re quiet for a moment, mind already flashing images that are too inappropriate to speak of right now.

 “Room 112, second floor.” Mark finally says. “The door is open.”

  ~

             You didn’t try to look too good for him, honestly. You didn’t want to blow the cover of being casual—but you did at least, brush your hair and spray yourself with a bit of perfume. And as you walk, the cold wind shifting your hair in all sorts of directions, you figure you probably didn’t even need to brush your hair at this point.

             The cold air stings your cheeks, which are far too hot right now, as you walk to Mark’s dorm with several ideas of what may happen. You’re thankful the two of you live on campus, because you make it there in less than ten minutes.

             Timing, what a funny thing. It’s only funny because the moment you and Mark agreed to meet up tonight, Hongjoong started texting you. How is it that after three weeks, he wants to get laid now? If circumstances were any different, you’d be at his dorm in less than ten minutes, pants at your ankles the second you see his building. Instead, though, you’re texting him a small ‘sorry, I made plans’.  Of course, Hongjoong is put off by that considering the sheer number of times you’ve asked for a hook up recently. You don’t respond to anymore of his texts though.

             Mark is at the door the second you knock, swinging it open and revealing the small room. You realize this is the first time you’re ever truly in a private space with him, and he looks so—artistic. You notice piles of ripped and crumpled newsprint littering his tables with figures darkly sketched onto them.

 “You are literally so hot right now.” You groan out without hesitation, staring up at the man who did nothing more than open his door and revealing the mess of his living space to you.

             His hair is a mess much like the room, probably from rubbing his hands through it as he studied, his sweatpants sitting loosely against him, the t-shirt, clearly far too big, skewed against his shoulder. Truly, he is the most attractive to you in this moment, you would probably start drooling if he didn’t speak up.

           All he does is laugh, leaning down to you and reaching his arm past your head to close the door. He stays in place, looking so incredibly confident that you think you may be in love with the way he looks at you right now.

 “We are on the same page, right?” He whispers, his breath, which smells suspiciously minty, wisps around your cheeks when he says it.

             You stare back at him, clearly very much on the same page in the way he keeps you pinned against this door. Do you really even need to clarify or confirm what’s about to happen? Because you’re pretty sure it’s obvious at this point. You dart your eyes down between his legs, back up to his eyes, to his lips, then over to one of the two beds in this room. You aren’t sure which is his and to be fair, you could give less of a fuck about which bed he chooses to bend you over in.

             Without any amount of hesitation, you shoot your hands up to his face and connect your lips to his in a way that feels…starved. His body is too relaxed over yours when you do it, and the door is too stiff behind you when you try to press off of it in a sense of urgency for the kiss—but finally, he puts more force behind his lips too.

             You’re pressed right back against the door by his lips, his hands dropping already to pull your coat off of you. Urgent hands he has, and you would fall to your knees thanking God if you didn’t have other plans down there in all honesty.

             It’s fast, confirmed, and obvious what the two of you are here for. Your coat is off so quickly that you’re almost frustrated he didn’t immediately start trying to lift your shirt off as well, so instead, you go for his shirt and pull it off in such a quick movement it shocks him.

 “How long?” He mumbles, lurching back towards your lips without letting you admire his naked chest. You start working your own shirt off now, feeling his hands reach directly for your waist as soon as the skin is revealed. “How long what?” You sigh against his lips when he tries to connect them again, hands rubbing up and down your sides.

 “How long were you going to make me wait?” He pulls back, finally staring down at you. Everything is further confirmed when he realizes you did not, infact, wear a bra and this is the first time he is seeing your bare breasts after weeks of wondering what they look like.

             He groans before you can answer, his mind already distracted from the conversation at hand when he pulls at your body and leads you to his bed.

 “How long was I--? Mark, I was waiting on you to do something!” You laugh at him, and then at yourself for actually trying to have a conversation right now.

 “Uh-uh.” Mark pouts, pressing you back against what you assume to be his bed and throwing himself beside you to start unbuttoning your pants. “No, I was the only one pushing, it was your turn.”

             You stare at him in shock. So, the reason he didn’t—because he was waiting— god. You truly are entitled.

             You simply nod at him so the conversation can be put to rest, leaning over again to connect your lips with him as he pulls at the band of your pants. He’s gotten them undone and unzipped and is…cutely trying to pull them off of you in a way that makes you want to see how long it’ll take him to grow frustrated.

             Eventually he does, you can see him furrow his brow when he pulls back from the kiss in a huff, pulling his focus to getting your pants off of you in a determined way.

 “You’re—” You sigh, eyes searching along his body to admire a little while he does his thing, your eyes zoning in between his legs. Truly, you were going to say he was cute, but when you saw the twitch, and you saw the sheer length hidden by fabric, a different word slipped out. “big.”

             Mark pauses and looks at you and then down at himself. Your pants are only half down your thighs now when he smirks at you and his cheeks somehow manage to darken even more. “Yeah? I am?” He asks for clarity, and you swipe his hands away from your denim long enough to pull them off yourself.

 “That’s how you take a woman’s pants off, by the way.” You mock him easily and ignore his need for you to elaborate. You see him shift his gaze away from you in embarrassment, and then your eyes are right back between his legs. “Now yours.”

             You barely even get the words out before he’s pulling his pants off in one swift motion and leaving your mouth feeling dry and—incredibly thirsty at the way his sheer desperation shows. How lucky you are, to not have a dick that tells on you—how lucky that the damp spot between your legs can only be seen if you were to blatantly show it to him.

 “I’m—” Mark pauses in a small voice, hands going to cover himself before he continues. “It’s been a while, I’m sorry.”

 “You’re sorry.” You mock in disbelief, turning your body so that you can throw yourself at him when the time is right. “Mark, you have no idea what’s happening between my legs right now,” You try to assure him and it has him relaxing his hands away from himself.

 “I very much—and I mean very much—want what’s in your boxers right now.” You seethe out, leaning over him to the point you’re the one hovering.

             He says nothing, but his hips buck up at your words against absolutely nothing and you think that seeing him like this might be your absolute favorite thing in the fucking universe. His body searching for the friction only you can grant. Immaculate, but you’re not gonna give him that yet. Instead, throw one leg over him to sit on his thighs and stare down against his bulge. You’re sure you’ll get his boxers off around the same time your panties get lost somewhere in the room, but the time isn’t now.

             Your eyes zone in the spot below his earlobe, the place he attached his lips to so frequently, and you think, yeah, it’s your turn to do it now. He needs to know what your body felt in the early mornings before class, he needs to know how badly you wanted more from him this whole time.

             One of his hands instantly shoots to your breast, yknow, the skin he has been staring at since you pulled yourself on top of him, and the other grips your hair as you touch your lips to that spot against his jaw. He groans out at the sensation, hips bucking up again, against nothing because you haven’t granted him the pleasure yet. You’re still sitting against his thighs and each time his hips move, your body shifts with him.

             He realizes now though, that this spot you’re sucking on had to of been the best spot anyone could ever feel a pair of lips. He can hear your soft suckles so clearly and feel the heat of your tongue against his skin—jesus. He did this to you so many times and you didn’t break? Not even a little bit?

 “How does that feel?” You pull your lips back and whisper against his lobe, shifting your core a little higher on his thighs so that you’re barely grazing against some part of his bulge.

             Mark doesn’t respond, he simply swallows at your words before turning his cheek and catching your lips against his again. He’s far to ready, far too desperate, and far to lost to the sensations of you that you’re a little taken aback when his hands grip your waist and force you forward against his incredibly hard length. He takes a short moment to slip his hand away and into his boxers to adjust himself properly and only now do you realize the actual length and girth of it beneath you.

             You can’t fully think straight right now, your panties rubbing against you in such a harsh way that you almost wish you opted not to wear them at all. His hands guide your waist in a frantic way, pushing and pulling you as he lurches forward to kiss you again, breathing deeply into it. None of his thrusts match the way he’s moving your body and you find it incredibly hot that he can’t seem to control his desire right now.

             In an attempt to help, you lift yourself and guide both of his hands to your chest. You press against his fingers so that he knows to massage the hardened nubs beneath them and then you brace yourself for his reaction by leaning back on your elbows, hands braced against his thighs, and grinding your entire core against his full length.

             His eyes widen and then quickly fall hooded as he stares up at you. You can see his abdomen tensing each time you grind up and against him, and his breath hitching when you pull back again—you’re not entirely sure how long you can do this for though because the wetness between the two of you is almost embarrassing.

             Mark thinks it might be the hottest thing he’s ever done with a woman though, being shown how to touch her, his cock being grinded against as a form of teasing that very well could have him cumming within the next minute if you were to quicken your pace at all. The slick of your panties dampening his own fabric, he isn’t even entirely sure who is releasing the majority of it at this point—

             And then he feels air. Cold air hitting the tip of his cock. He glances down, seeing your hips pull back and press so hard against him that your movements catch his boxers and pull them back just enough—just barely.

             He moans first. Like a genuine moan, and he wasn’t even sure why he wasn’t already but it’s not like he needs to keep his cool in this moment considering he’s already shown you how desperate he truly is for this. His hands move from your chest back to your waist, and he grips you so tightly as he stares at your core, so dripping that he wants nothing more than to taste it.

             Your movements are halted by his hands as he holds you in place for a moment, then he shoots his eyes up and the two of you make eye contact. “you are so good at this.” He almost whines, and all you can do is chuckle down at him.

             Honestly, you’re about to grind against him again but you’re shocked when he lifts himself up and pulls you flush against his chest, trapping you there for a moment as you hear his heartbeat pounding against his chest. His hands rub down your back, slightly beneath your panties, and then he hooks them—seemingly holding onto them for dear life when he pushes himself further forward. His legs spread out, and your close in when he does this, pressing you down on your back against the mattress as he slips your panties off in one motion with ease.

             Part of you wonders where he learned to do that, but another part of you genuinely doesn’t care because you’re completely bare beneath him and he is focusing his eyes directly on your folds. Literally, he’s just staring, frozen in his spot as he swallows at the sight.

             You throw your arm over your face, but he notices the gesture of shyness in his peripheral and quickly swats your arm away. Not another word is said when he finally tears his eyes away from the wetness he caused for you and direct eye contact before smiling.

             You already know what he’s about to do, and fuck yeah he’d better.

             The breath is knocked out of you the moment he braces on hand on your thigh, the other immediately going for your clit and rubbing harsh circles, then he’s leaning down. You can barely react before his tongue is doing magical things against you, flicking and sucking against your heat as if he were trying to prove something. You already knew his mouth could do a lot more than kissing like a professional, but this?

             When you moan, his thumb presses harder against your soft spot, when your hips raise up to feel his tongue slip deeper, he groans much louder than you do. You can see him his hips stutter against nothing as he laps against you, searching for the friction you’d just given him moment before—and it’s—god. It’s so hot to see him desperate for you, eating you as if you’re edging him on purpose.

             He sighs, slipping his tongue into you at an impossibly frustrating angle if he’s being honest, when you grip his hair and guide his head there. What he doesn’t expect though, is the way you wrap a leg around his shoulder, stretch it out, and use your foot to press his back against the mattress, granting him some sort of friction that you must have noticed his body yearning for.

             He furrows his brows in a wince when he feels his cock press against the mattress, and it was all your doing. This gives him the urge to do whatever he can to plunge his tongue into you as deep as it can go. He tucks his hands beneath your ass and angles you up slightly, tilting his head only a little so he can, essentially, tongue fuck you and leave your clit completely abandoned.

             The choked-out sound you give to him at that was exactly what he wanted, his hips pressing futher into the mattress as he feels the heat of your walls clench for more. You grind against his tongue the same way he grinds against the mattress, and the wet sounds coming from between your legs has you feeling like you need to shout out how good it feels, but you don’t—you moan gently, prettily for him because he moans louder and you want to hear it. You like hearing the sounds crack in his throat and vibrate through his tongue straight against you—you could honestly say you might love it.

             When he pulls back for a breath, his hips continue to tense against the mattress. You look at him, his eyes staring up between your legs in a way that makes him look as if he’s drunk. Dopey almost, and you smile at him, pressing your foot into his back again and holding him down like that. His eyes shut tightly, a shaky moan falling from his lips that you can feel against the skin of your thigh, and then you press harder.

 “You really can do more with your mouth—” You stutter out to your surprise, thinking the words would sound a lot smoother than they did. “But Mark?” You ask, keeping your foot firm against his back to hold him there. “I’m getting a little jealous of the mattress.”

             He can’t even respond, his cock twitching between his stomach and the firm bed beneath, enveloping his entire length in warmth and slight wetness from precum, he just moans shamelessly at your words, resting his forehead directly against your clit to catch his breath. He knows he must look pathetic right now. You’re telling him you’re jealous of the mattress—but? But—you’re holding him against it as if you’d rather watch him, quite literally, hump into euphoria?

 “Lick,” You say, pulling your leg back and resting in its original position on the side of him. You lift your hips a little bit, feeling his tongue immediately resume what it had been doing before as if he were compelled to listen to your every command without a single word of response.

             You watch him for a moment and you can see the eagerness he has to make you feel good, but then he stops. You can see his eyes flutter open and stare against your leg for a long moment before he completely abandons your core and bites down against the plush skin of your thigh.

             Whatever you wanted from him long forgotten because apparently, he suddenly needed to blemish every spot of your body that his mouth comes in contact with. You don’t argue, brushing his hair between your fingers as you let him trail his mouth all over your inner thighs as if to lay more claim against you. It tickles, your body jolting every now and then at his teeth nipping at the softest skin on your body.

             His hips pick back up against the mattress, and his breath begins to hitch more and more as he leaves small swells against any vacant skin he can find. He likes the idea of Hongjoong seeing them and knowing it didn’t come from his own mouth. He likes the idea of leaving seething reminders of what he can do to you—he likes that you’re letting him, scratching against his scalp and soothing him each time he finds a new spot to bruise up. And when he’s finally satisfied at the swatches of colors surrounding his head, he envelopes your clit with his lips and does the same thing there. The sensation almost painful in the way he attempts to make his claim on the most private, sensitive area of your body.

             He stays there for much longer than the other spots, nicking the bud with his teeth as his fingers snake their way up and against your entrance. His hips never slow, and his low groans vibrate against you in a way that has you anticipating your release every two to three seconds.

             But when he finally plunges his fingers into you, flicking his tongue and sucking hard against your clit in such a way that makes you moan out his name—you immediately grip his hair tightly and pull his face back so you don’t cum yet.

             He looks up at you innocently when you do that, his lips red and plush, shimmering from his saliva—you look at him in awe. The orgasm threatening to come to you doesn’t leave though, because his fingers continue to rock in and out of you at a lazy pace. You can feel how long they are suddenly now that the intense sensation on your clit has come to a stop, and when he curls the pads of his fingers inside of you, your legs tense and you panic.

             Yes, you want to cum. Do you want to cum now? Absolutely not.

             You grip his hair tightly, pulling him up as aggressively as you can and causing him to fall over you in his attempt to follow you. His fingers slipping out of you and coming to grab at the arm you’re using to guide him. His cock sits harshly against the bruises he had left between your legs, the soreness more alluring than painful—and you keep eye contact with him.

 “I-“ You try to say, but he speaks at the same time in his own little out of breath stutter.

 “You’re so—”

             Both of you look away with a small, shy, smile and then silence fills the room. Neither of you try to complete your sentences and instead opt to fall back into a kiss where you can taste yourself so perfectly that it’s no wonder he was enjoying himself down there. However, feeling his cock twitch directly against your core reminds you that he’s still wearing his boxers and you, cannot, for the life of you, understand why the fuck he still has him on.

 “Take them off—” You groan between kisses, fumbling your hands at his waist to try and tug at the material. The small laugh he lets out has you falling into some sort of. . . fondess. Rose colored glasses fogging your mind and thoughts the moment he looks back at you with rounded and sparkling eyes, his boxers now somewhere crumpled within the bed sheets. “Use it.” Is all you can say before you’re immediately pressing your lips against every single surface of his face.

             He laughs and moans at that, his arousal showing plainly on his face as he also attempts to appreciate how cute you’re acting despite the crude and aggressive demands. He feels incredibly wanted, and that’s really all he needs to grasp onto when he works up the courage to slide his length between your folds.

             He doesn’t press in, instead opting to grind against you first—wanting to memorize the way your wet coats his cock so perfectly that it almost feels as though he is inside of you. Warm and wet, he does this for a bit longer than you’d prefer. Gliding against you and breaking out into little, embarrassing sobs against your lips. The head of his cock bumping into your clit every single time he grinds back up—until you press your hips down and force him to, by accident of course, slip inside of you. It was so easy to slip in that he almost didn’t even realize he did it until he’s slumping down against you with a low and guttural moan.

             You’re shocked that he doesn’t pull out, and instead he immediately just starts fucking into you in a way that shows he probably couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to. His forehead is resting against your shoulder as he closes his eyes and feels the sensations of your walls clenching around him, his once neglected cock now feeling so much at once that he feels like he forgot how to fuck a woman at all.

             His hips have no rhythm, nor does his breathing. All you can do is feel him inside of you, exploring in his own way until he finally lifts his head to look at you again.

             Mark looks dazed, his cheeks dusted in pink and his eyes looking so innocent that you almost forgot this is the same man who talked to you so boldly before. The image of him alone right now is enough that if you were to simply put a little pressure against your clit, you could cum right now and really show him what he’s missed.

             Thankfully, you don’t have to do that. Mark seems to snap out of it and realize where he is, what he’s doing, and how badly he must be doing it (in his own mind.), and you’re nearly thrown over the edge when he lifts himself up completely, hold your chin with one hand to look at him, and the other going straight to your clit.

             And right there, he literally fucks you, your legs gripping around his middle as he does it. And he does it in a way that shows he knows exactly what he’s doing despite losing himself completely before. You like both versions of him. Either way, you know you’re cumming, especially when he keeps eye contact with you, his fingers rubbing your clit in the way you’d do it yourself if a man wasn’t doing his job. You stare up at him, with his lips caught between his teeth as he presses in and out of you with long, slow, but powerful drags.

             His eyes light up more when your eyes begin to roll back a bit. His fingers pressing more against you, his cock holding still so he can feel your walls clench around him as you release. You’re silent in your climax, holding your breath as you feel him twitch along with you.

           He wonders if this is the first time a woman has genuinely ever cum around him. He’s never felt a pussy throb like this, gripping against him in a way that you’re quite literally, jerking him off without intention. The slick sliding out as he picks up his pace again, he waits for you to look at him again.

             When you do, eyes hooded and sleepy, hair a mess, lips soft and pillowy, he thrusts himself as deeply as he can go, mind hooked on the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you ride the last bit of you high.

             It takes everything in him to pull out, but he does, because he always does. The loss of warmth sending his orgasm over the edge and releasing strings of milky white against the blemishes on your thighs. His hand is shaking as he milks the last bit out of himself. Not once did he open his eyes after pulling out, and not once did he see you blink in awe at how fucking good he looked when he cums.

             Not only did he stay silent, much like you do during release, but you could see him release the breath he had been holding when the first wave hit him. The way his eyebrows went from furrowed to relieved, arching in a way that would look like he may start crying. His mouth fell slack, and—you’re not sure if he noticed, but his free hand gripped your legs open as far as he could so that he could cum directly against you. He missed, of course, because he kept his eyes closed, but you will admit that his slick looks good against the blemishes he had made on your skin there.

             A few more moments of silence before he’s flopping down against you, head lying directly against one of the nipples he really didn’t intend to abandon—it’s just, there was a lot of your body to look at and he kind of let your chest fall into the background the moment he could get between your legs.

             He doesn’t seem to mind the fact that he just laid directly into the pools of cum he left on you, you don’t mind it either. Out of breath, feeling dizzy, you run your fingers through his hair again. He hums at this, shifting his body up a little further so that he could lazily kiss against the spot under your earlobe. Sure, internally he’s claimed other parts of you now, but this is still his favorite spot.

             You feel content right now, not saying a single word after the two of you practically came together. It’s the first time that’s ever happened to you. Hongjoong always either being the first to get off and the first to fall asleep, or the one to finish you off with his fingers, because let’s be real, he always finishes first.

             Looking down at Mark’s body on top of yours makes you push the thought of Hongjoong to the furthest depths of your mind though, because you can’t help but feel warm, more warm than you did when you came, more warm than the first time Mark kissed you, more warm than the first time he drew your hickey.

 “Mark?”

 “Sh.” He hums in a soft way, nuzzling his nose against your ear as if he’s the one needing after care or something.

 “Mark, we are going to get crusty—” You speak out before he can shush you this time, and he responds by wiggling his body against you a bit, smearing the pools further.

 “Yep.” He confirms, refusing to pull himself off you.

 ~

             The two of you laid there together for what felt like hours. He did, eventually, get up and wipe the two of you clean with, unfortunately, what appears to be your shirt—but you figure you can just wear one of his home or something.

             He admires you the entire time when he laid back down beside you, unaware of how obvious it looks. You feel wanted, attractive, seen. It’s nice to watch him dart his eyes to all sorts of areas on your body. Smiling at the spots he left on you, then shifting to a very regular stretch of skin and smiling at that just as much. His jawline is sharp, eyes calm as he looks at you in pure admiration for as long as he can, then his eyes light up much like they did during the steamy session hours ago.

 “You’ve seen titanic, right?” And almost immediately, you can tell he feels stupid for asking that. “What the fuck, you don’t need an example for this, jesus.” He insults himself, pulling himself away from you. “Listen—” He assures you, standing up and walking to his desk stark naked without a care in the world. “I know it’s cliché but please do not move from that spot.”

             You roll your eyes in matched adoration for him in this moment, but you stay still despite the lack of warmth next to you. You assume there are pros and cons to fucking an artist that appears to be obsessed with you.

             He draws you perfectly, as expected. Looking dopey and stupid as he messes his fingers with the broken charcoal block he had been using earlier in the week. “Don’t worry,” He smiles, coming back over to you with the newsprint. “I wont show anyone. It’s for me.” He admits with another dopey and stupidly adorable smile.

“You really are too pretty.” He finally says, placing the sheet of paper on his dresser and pulling you out of the bed and against him.

             You really did think he was just being sweet, especially when he kissed your nose—but then he got a little cocky, not that you’re complaining. “I wish I could draw you like this too.” He whispers against your ear. You can feel his cock stir against your thigh only for a moment when he spins you around and presses you down against the mattress, his hands gripping your hips.

             He was much quicker this time to take what he wanted, and you were just as quick to oblige. Mark was already spreading you open and pressing into you again with a desperate sort of stoke. You, still matching his energy if the wetness seeping out of you is anything to go by, press back against him when he does it. Only then, he realizes just how tightly he was gripping your hips, and he wonders for a moment if that alone bruised you. He can see the marks under the pads of his fingers against your skin, but it smeared when he moved his fingers away—he moans. You, in all of your glory, truly are a wonderful canvas. Not only for his mouth, but the stained charcoal against his fingers that he’s come to love so much.

             Mark thinks he could probably draw you every day, adding a wrinkle here or there as they grow deeper, dimpling your cheeks from how often you had smiled for him in your life.

~

#mark lee smut #mark lee #mark lee fic #nct 127 #nct 127 fic #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct #uh--- #hongjoong #ateez #kim hongjoong fic #ateez fic #mine #ncteez #nct-writers #i will begin using my previous tag from this point forward //properly// and within the first 5 tags

[novamirmirsblog]

The chronicles of Pig the giraffe

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

Synopsis: As kids, y/n wins a stuffed animal for natasha at the fair, hoping to impress them. Years later, natasha reveals that they still have the giraffe.

Genre: angst/fluff

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Word count: 2223

warnings: swearing, black widow spoilers, probs a lil bit of smexy time in later chapters, the very real possibility for me to leave this unfinished <3

This is unedited as always :3

A/n: Y/n and natasha start off as kids btw also, I have no idea when you can join the army but I feel like its about 17ish XD just roll with it people :3 PLUS I have absolutely no idea how secret organisations work (please don't come for me lil FBI man in my computer) FINAL THING timeline be fucked. I make my own timeline here people.

Before Natasha Romanoff was a world renowned Avenger, she was Natty, the girl from Ohio with blue hair and a little sister who thought she walked on water. Natty was the girl you grew up playing with over the holidays when you met up with your cousins at your Grandma's house. Sometimes, you would catch yourself looking at Natasha the same way Yelena would look at her and so you always assumed the warm feeling you felt in your chest was due to sheer amazement at how wonderful she was rather than anything else. Surprisingly, it took Natasha leaving for you to realise that there was nothing platonic about the way you looked at the slightly older girl.

It was the winter before Natasha left when you asked her out to what you would come to know was a date. There was a carnival going on and you asked your Grandma if you could go with Natasha and Yelena rather than your cousins. Your grandmother and Melina shared a knowing look (unbeknownst to you and Natasha) and suggested to the two of you that Yelena go with your cousins and grandmother while you went with Natasha. Safe to say Yelena was less than happy with the arrangement, not that you or Natasha noticed.

By the time the two (three if you counted your chaperone) got there, you were both buzzing. The sun was setting and the carnival lights glowed like tiny fireflies drawing you both in. The two of you quickly ditched Melina, running around to see all the attractions. Natasha grabbed your hand as you both weaved through the crowds of people lining up for toffee apples and hot dogs. Your stomach began to rumble and you smiled sheepishly at Natasha when she giggled at the sound.

"Want to get some cotton candy?"

"How much does it cost?" Your grandmother had given you a generous 5 dollars to spend but you really wanted to save it for some of the carnival games and perhaps a few of the rides.

"Don't worry about that." Natasha gave you a sly wink as she pulled out her mother's purse.

"Natasha! That's stealing!" You laughed as she dragged you back into the crowd to get some food.

"If that shocks you then I don't think we can be friends anymore!" Natasha's cheeky grin told you she was joking with you but the prospect of not being her friend anymore made you feel heavy. Natasha seemed to notice this. "Y/n I was only joking - you'll always be my friend."

You were handed a cone of cotton candy and grinned back at Natasha, all worries momentarily forgotten in place of spending time with your holiday friend.

The two of you had found a quieter stall further to the back of the carnival and you couldn't wait to try it having already failed to win a goldfish.

"Natty look!" You pointed at the large bear tied to the back of the stall "I'm going to win it for you!"

You let go of Natasha's hand and picked up the water gun, paying the bored teenager the money. You were a little intimidated at the sight of teen but there was no way you weren't going to win that bear. You shot the targets one by one with surprising accuracy for a 10 year old.

"Congrats kid, you won a medium prize." The teen picked out the prizes you could choose from and none of them were the bear.

"Which one?" You turned to Natasha only to see her completely zoned out. You turned back to the boy. "Are you sure I cant get the bear?"

"Absolutely not kid." He rolled his eyes at you, blowing a particularly big bubblegum bubble. "Pick or scram."

You grabbed a slightly sorry looking giraffe, figuring if Natasha didn't like it, maybe Yelena would. "Thanks." You grabbed Natasha's hand again, pulling her from whatever fog she was lost in.

"Sorry it's not the bear." You swung your arm, making hers swing too as you passed her the giraffe.

"I love him."

"What are you going to name him?"

"How about George?" Natasha smiled softly.

You spun to walk backwards, giving Natasha a disgusted look. "Natasha Romanoff surely you have more imagination than 'George'."

"Well what would you call him?"

"Pig of course."

Natasha laughed "How is Pig a better name than George?"

"Because when you talk about Pig, no one will expect it to be a stuffed giraffe!"

Natasha just continued to laugh as you both made it back to the car park. "I'm going to miss you."

"What?" You asked her, confused. You always left but you made sure to always come back when it was the holidays.

"Nothing." Natasha gave you a sad smile. A sad smile that stayed on her face for the rest of that holiday. It was only when you returned the following summer and you asked your grandmother where they were when you realised she was saying goodbye.

~~~~~

That was 15 years ago and you had done a lot of growing up since then. You joined the army at 17 and found you were particularly good at both intelligence and with a sniper. Your family was silently grateful for this because it meant you would be kept away from the front lines and had less chance of just being 'cannon fodder'. You were a slightly decorated war hero and while you weren't earning as many badges as the higher ups, your work within intelligence caught the eyes of certain government agencies.

MI6 got to you first. After just 5 years serving in the army, you were given the opportunity to deal with external threats. Your job was rewarding and you enjoyed it however another 10 years flew by and you were approached again, this time by a Maria Hill. You were sure your higher ups would have issues with America trying to poach you but when you informed them you were leaving, they just thanked you for your service. You knew they would continue to keep tabs on you for the rest of your life but that was to be expected when you dealt with classified information on a daily basis. You hadn't been back to America since your grandmother had died so when the taxi picked you up to take you to to the headquarters, you tried to subtly take in the tall skyscrapers of New York.

"Does it help to announce your top secret agency?" You asked Maria when you noticed that the car you were in had a large shield logo plastered on the side of it.

She just let out a little sigh and directed you through the door.

"This way Y/l/n."

"So what exactly do you want me to do? 90% of the file you sent me was redacted."

"You'll find out soon." Maria ushered you into what looked like a conference room and closed the door behind her.

You stood at the front of the room like a new kid in class. You watched as the Avengers sized you up, you doing the same to them. You had been in much more terrifying situations than this but right now, it felt as if you were sweating harder than when you had been held captive in Afghanistan.

"This is Y/n Y/l/n. She will be working with you. Play nice." A man with an eyepatch spoke to the rest of the team. You recognised a few of them, Iron Man, Captain America and Thor but that was about it.

"And who are you?" You asked him.

"Director Fury but I'm sure you already knew that."

You let out a noncommittal hum as your eyes scanned the room again. You saw that the redhead was looking at you just a tad more intensely than anyone else in the room. When you looked at her, your mind briefly drifted back to Natty and you wondered where she was now.

"Well I'm Tony and you are absolutely gorgeous." Tony stuck out his hand you went to shake it but he twisted it so he could kiss the back of it.

You raised your eyebrow at him and stared until you could see him get uncomfortable. You then broke out into a smile.

"Don't do that... It's creepy."

"Don't call me gorgeous then."

"I think it was 'absolutely gorgeous' if I remember correctly."

You laughed at his antics, not noticing the fuming redhead in the corner.

"Let me show you to your room." Tony dramatically gave you his arm just to be cut in front of by the pretty redhead.

"Absolutely not."

You tilted your head when she spoke. She sounded so familiar. Once again your brain threw you back to thoughts of Nat and her sister.

"Stark, Romanoff, what did I just say about playing nice."

Suddenly it all made sense.

"Natasha?"

Natasha looked like a deer in headlights for a brief moment before her expression turned carefully neutral.

"Yes."

"From Ohio?"

Natasha hesitated slightly before nodding.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

That's when Agent Barton stepped in. "How do you know her?"

"How do you know her?" Dumb question. They obviously work together.

"I asked first."

You thought you heard Fury mutter 'what happened to playing nice' but you were too focused on the defensive man in front of you. Your eyes narrowed at him and you changed your stance slightly in preparation for a potential fight.

"Relax Clint. Come on Y/n, let's get you to your room." Natasha seemed slightly nervous as she manoeuvred you towards the door and away from Clint.

You both walked to your room in silence. Natasha only broke it when you entered the lift.

"You're on my floor."

"Okay."

You knew realistically you couldn't have your own floor but you kind of hoped that if you had to share, it wouldn't be with Natasha. You had both changed drastically from the happy-go-lucky kids that lived solely in your memories. You had both grown up and had many more demons than either of you would care to admit. Your demons often haunted your dreams and sometimes spilled over into real life. Your night terrors were something you wanted to keep completely private. Hopefully the walls were thick enough.

~~~~~

The walls were not thick enough.

It was 2:08 exactly and your alarm that usually woke you up before the night terrors start wasn't set. It was 2:10 when Natasha heard you screaming. She was up and out of her bed before she could process what was happening. She demanded Jarvis let her in and she was allowed access before you could scream again.

Natasha hovered over you, trying to gently wake you. When that didn't work, she resorted to shaking you. You still refused to wake up and at 2:14 she decided to grab you glass of water on the side of the bed to try to wake you up. There was no need to do so however as at 2:15, you seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Natasha was completely frozen. She hovered on the bed, one leg resting there while the other grounded her on the floor.

"Jarvis?" Natasha whispered out "What happened?"

"I believe agent Y/n was experiencing a night terror. You should be able to wake her up now."

Natasha gingerly rested her hand on your shoulder and nudged you awake.

You groaned and rolled over, trying to fight the urge to wake up until you felt a hand shake you again. You turned back over and looked up to see worried green eyes looking back at you, the moonlight making them pop. You felt your face heat up as you realised what had happened.

"Are you okay?" You asked her. She seemed to still be pretty shaken up.

"Am I okay? I think you mean are you okay?"

"Oh no it's fine, I never remember the night terrors."

Natasha just looked at you horrified. "Come on." She grabbed your hand and dragged you out of your bed. Once she had reached her room she turned to you again "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"This really isn't necessary, I don't even remember what happened."

"Y/n... your eyes were completely open but you couldn't see me..." Natasha took a deep breath. Clearly your night terrors were more creepy than you had expected them to be. "Please stay tonight."

"Okay."

Natasha opened the door and turned on the bedside lamp. It was then when you noticed something small and yellow on her bed.

"Is that pig?"

"...no"

"Natasha Romanoff that is pig! I can't believe you kept him!" you walked over to where the stuffed, faded giraffe lay on the bed, picking him up and gently running your thumb over some loose threads.

"We have a lot to talk about. A lot has changed since we last saw each other."

"That's true. Want do do it now or in the morning?"

"Do you think you can get back to sleep?"

"Yes but I really think I should go back to my room. If I have another one, you're the only one who's going to be affected."

"No." She grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the bed with her.

"Okay." You whispered out, silence falling over the room as Natasha turned off the lights.

I have already written out the first 2 chapters and I'm half way through the 3rd so, so far so good XD

#natasha x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff needs a hug #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha imagine #black widow x female reader #black widow imagine #black widow x you