#mark lee fics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nnight-dances · 1 year

Text

SOME GUY!

pairings: mark lee x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, heated moments tropes: close friends to lovers?, mark avoids u because he's stupid, taeyong as your perfect ex who's still in love w u, u kiss mark's face to shut him up. warnings: mint ice-cream slander, mark is some guy, skinship, college frat party, not proofread.

author's note: haha guess who's in their mark phase hhhhh... sorry he's just such an interesting guy i could write him all day long. either way!!! more mark appreciation, less depression <3

—

at the end of the day, mark really was just some guy.

that’s what he thought to himself everytime he sat down to really consider the reality of all things. he doesn’t mean to get all self-deprecating and emo like that, but it was just a neutral truth thing that kinda hurts the first time you realize it but then it’s just the obvious thing in your daily life. but of course, if he ever did tell someone that he always felt like some guy among a bunch of cool guys, regardless of their gender, he would have to sit through one of those ultimately useless and pitiful speeches about how talented he really was.

— “you know what? you’re right!”

mark’s thoughts zap off their route when he hears you agree with his remark a few seconds ago. honestly, he hadn’t been completely sure if you’d heard him because of the lack of reaction you’d given him. but when you suddenly chuckle and agree with him, mark chokes over the stream of dr pepper in his throat.

he coughs desperately, “wait, what?”

your smile widens, “you’re just some guy. that’s like the perfect description of you.”

under normal circumstances, mark thinnks he would’ve been offended by how certain you sound. but the way you say it? it’s not like you’re trying to be mean or condescending… more like you’re just saying the truth. the neutral truth thing…

“i can’t believe you,” mark mutters, face splitting in a laugh, “i can’t believe you’re agreeing with me!” you look slightly confused but continue, “don’t tell me you’re hurt? you were the one who brought it up!”

mark shakes his head, controlling his laughter, still slightly losing his mind. “you’re really something, bro. i just didn’t expect you to actually be honest.” he laughs again, taking a sip of his drink again, becoming aware that he was being too loud for a bookstore. thankfully though, on a brief glance around, nobody seemed to care.

you fiddle with the zipper of your pencil pouch in thought. then, a shrug as you look back at mark, “hmm, isn’t that funny. i’m some thing, you’re some guy.”

mark falls into another fit of laughter before he knows it, disbelieving more than anything over your badly disguised shamelessness. you hold in a laugh as you land the last punch to his gut, “the perfect pair, isn’t it?” — the punch that sends him right into an oblivion of a world where nothing except you makes sense.

(ok perhaps, mark was being a tad dramatic. you know what he means though: he’s smitten.)

—

if someone were to kidnap you for the purposes of interrogating your honesty behind your claims that you thought mark was some guy, you’d probably get shot in the head instead, because there was no way you were letting anyone in on the information that you did not actually consider mark some guy.

maybe, a little, yes, but at this point, the phrase ‘some guy’ needs some more definiton. some guy as in boring and bland and dry and overdone? absolutely not. if that was what mark was, you wouldn’t have been committing every last one of your wednesday evenings, aka the only free evenings you ever get, to sitting in a crowded bookstore to pretend to do homework with him. you never did homework with mark around.

mark was the kind of some guy that was just being himself. yeah, that’s all you got. mark was mark. good explanation.

“bro? y/n, you good?”

you blink, finding mark swaying in front of you. you were currently sat on a bench near the building where your next class was.

“uhh, sorry,” you take off your headphones to look up at mark, “what are you doing on this part of campus?”

mark shrugs with a playful smile, “why can’t i be here?”

“because you literally don’t take any classes in the econ department?”

he shrugs again, “what if i’ve changed my ways? we’re still young and free, y/n, think a little outside the box, won’t you?”

“you’re taking econ? how- how did you-?”

“oh, look at that,” mark cuts you off, holding up his phone in front of your face. the time reads 11:05 am. “it’s time for our class. let’s go.” you’re busy processing his words (our class???) when he pulls you by the arm and toward the hall behind you.

and that’s the story of how you go from knowing absolutely nobody in your econ class, to sitting next mark in the extremely damp and cramped chairs of your econ class which means your arm is constantly touching his which you, for some reason, don’t hate. probably because the chilly fall wind coming through the window next to mark always makes you glad for the warmth.

mark, on the other hand, smiles a small smile whenever you shuffle closer because even though, the guy (doyoung is his name?) in front of him is always asking him to close the window, he would rather not.

—

“you’re kidding? ice-cream? in this fucking weather?” you question mark, coughing a fake cough to make your point.

“what are you, a coward?”

when you give mark an unimpressed look, he breaks a laugh, grabbing hold of you by your elbow. cheekily, he says, “please. for me?”

you frown, feeling your resolve crumble under his stupid gaze, “i hate you,” you say but let mark pull you after him into the tiny corner shop.

the two of you huddle over the menu of the ice-cream shop, and you exclaim quietly, “oh! i’ve been wanting to try their raspberry choco flavor for a while!” mark looks between you and menu, “ah, really? that sounds kinda good.”

then, he shifts to look at the girl behind the counter, “uhh, we’ll have one mint chocolate and one raspberry choco, please.” you gasp at mark’s choice, “m-mint chocolate?! mark. i think i might break up with you.”

mark is too busy reddening at your joke that hits too close to home to notice the worker chuckling at you. she processes your orders and mark has time to recover.

when he looks back at you, you’re still grimacing. “i didn’t think you could get any worse.”

“are you sure you should be saying that to someone who’s treating you to icecream?”

“huh?” your eyes widen and then you smile, “ahhh, i see. i wasn’t aware you were bribing me into have a favorable opinion of you.” before mark can retort though, you continue with a smirk, “i’m not complaining though.”

your smirk both flusters and scares mark because it’s evidence you’re upto no good in your head but before he can air his suspicion, you’re reaching out for the two cones of icecream that the girl is handing out.

“you guys are really cute together,” the worker remarks shyly, giving you a thumbs up of approval.

mark chokes on the first bite of his mint choco icecream. you look at mark and he expects you to shut down the worker swiftly, but then you reach for his hand, pulling him closer with a bashful smile and say, “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“uh-?” you cut mark’s question off by pulling him out of the store after you.

when you’re outside, you burst into laughter at the perplexed look on mark’s look, looking absolutely adorable next to his already melting green blob of an abomination.

—

the next morning, mark is still suffering through it, unable to come to terms with your actions yesterday. they were honestly not out of character for you. you were always one to do shit just because you knew it would get a reaction out of someone else. like, that time you didn’t tell mark he had spinach in his teeth the whole time he was speaking in econ and only told him at the end. yeah, sure, but surely that was different from you pretending that you and mark were together. right?

mark’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes next to his pillow. he stirs to his side, opening his phone only to find a text from you.

y/n: fuck u

mark’s heart skips a beat, no matter the fact that you’re swearing at him the first thing in the morning.

mark: what did i do now…

y/n: it’s ur fault

mark: ???

y/n: i’m fuckin sick

“oh, fuck,” mark swears, sitting up with a frown, fingers quickly shooting a flurry of concerned texts back.

mark: oh shit really?

mark: im so sorry

mark: how bad is it?

y/n: it’s just a cold, dw not that bad

mark: what does that mean?

you, however, don’t bother to elaborate any more on your condition, going silent.

he groans, guilt settling in the slouch of his shoulder as he stares at his screen for a solid 10 minutes before giving up on your response. as he gets ready for the day, at the top of mark’s to do list is to visit your dorm room with medicine and snacks.

but by the time 3 pm rolls around, mark finds himself constantly distracted by classes and homeowork. he looks at the time and sighs. you hadn’t managed to get back to him. but considering how he hadn’t seen you in econ or lunch, your cold was more than ‘not bad’.

sitting outside the library to collect his thoughts, he spots chaewon, your roommate. the two of you had run into mark on a grocery shopping errand and mark had had a decent enough conversation to make him run up to chaewon.

“oh!” chaewon is surprised at first when mark blocks her way with a quick hey. “oh hey, mark!”

“um,” mark looks at the take-out box in her hands, “um, is that for y/n?”

“oh, yeah. did you hear? she woke up this morning with a fever.”

“a fever?”

“yeah, it was pretty high too. i had to force her to stay in bed or i think she would’ve just gone to class like the dumbass she is.”

mark frowns, “oh, no. has she eaten all day?”

chaewon hums in thought, “she told me she was fine for breakfast. i’m not sure if she had lunch though so i was just going to take some pizza and salad in case she’s been starving.”

mark’s frown deepens as she adds, “oh i better hurry though! i have to get back here in time for my dance practice.”

“ah…” he scratches his head, “uhh, if you’re busy, i wouldn’t mind dropping it off to y/n.”

chaewon raises an eyebrow, “wait, really? you’d do that?”

“um, yeah. it’s my fault she got sick anyway. i made her eat icecream last night.”

she laughs, “a little icecream wouldn’t have done that. but sure! it’d be a great help, if you did that. thanks, mark.”

mark hadn’t thought this through, he realizes when he reaches the door that reads y/n on the door, right next to chaewon. he takes a deep breath, clearing his throat, before knocking on the door. “y/n?” his voice breaks mid-sentence and he wants to hide in a hole somewhere, but you’re quick to throw your door open.

your hair is up in a bun which bobs in rhythm with your head, when you find mark outside your room, “mark? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“you weren’t responding to my texts,” he mumbles, and then holds up chaewon’s takeout box in one hand and in the other, the bag of medicine and snacks he’d packed. “i come bearing gifts though.”

you cough hoarsely into your elbow, pulling at the hem of your green hoodie as you consider mark in front of you. “you could’ve told me you were coming,” you sound… shy? mark thinks as he follows into your room after you gesture him to enter.

he looks at your bed and chuckles at the mess that is your bed. then, he smiles as he looks at the eccentric yet coherent collage of pictures and letters on your wall. “this is so you,” he comments and places the food and medicine on your table.

you pout, “a room that looks like all hell broke lose… is me? wow, thanks, mark.”

mark wants to refute your comment, he does, but then he gets distracted by how the way you say his name in your hoarse inside voice and he coughs a little. “i got you medicine though?” he sounds squeaky to his own ears.

you smile though at that, looking inside the bag he’s kept. “ahhh, ramen! i knew i could count on you, mark lee.”

mark almost wants to beg you to stop saying his name so much. but instead he shoots you a thumbs up, “how are you holding up?”

you nod in thought, still unpacking everything mark bought, “hmm, i’m alive. you should’ve seen me in the morning though i felt like something was trying to crawl out my skin.”

you laugh at the imagery, pausing when you catch the guilty look on mark. you already know he’s about to apologize when he opens his mouth. you hold up a finger threateningly, “i know i said that in the morning, but it’s not actually your fault. i always get sick like this every time fall rolls around.”

“no, for real though, i did force you to come eat icecream with me, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

“ugh, mark, trust me, i wouldn’t have eaten the icecream if i really didn’t want to,” you say, too kindly for your usual snarkiness as if you can sense how genuine mark’s apology was, “for real, my body’s just weird like that.”

when mark remains silent for another minute, you groan, “i know! you can repay me. stay and we can watch a movie or something. all the sleeping’s making me feel gross. plus, i couldn’t eat all this food myself.”

and that’s how mark finds himself settled next to you on your bed, blanket covering half his body, watching gilmore girls (your fall preference of entertainment, it seems). the first half hour went by fine, with one of you commenting ocassionally at something the characters did, but then you shifted closer to mark with a cough.

he was shocked at first but then he wonders if the medicine you’d taken before were starting to take effect. (he’d questioned how wise it was for you to be taking them before watching something, but he also didn’t want to make your condition worse.)

“you good, y/n?” he mumbles under his breath when he feels your head come to rest against his shoulder. he sounds surprisingly calm for the turmoil that is bursting within his veins at the contact.

you hum in acknowledgement, sniffing a little, “yeah, just a little sleepy.”

“oh, you should probably rest then,” mark reaches for the spacebar to pause the episode but your cold hand pulls his finger away. except you don’t let go of his finger, instead seeming to crave warmth, you’re suddenly holding his hand, icy fingertips coming to rest against the back of his palm.

mark’s hearbeat is in his ears by now but he lets you hold his hand as you protest, “mm, don’t wanna sleep. just keep watching.”

you don’t sound promising but he doesn’t argue, letting you having the final say in this situation.

five minutes later though, you stir against mark’s side, arm now in his lap and… yeah, you’re falling asleep.

mark freezes at the realization when he sees your eyelashes fluttering shut. oh god. oh no… this wasn’t good for his well-being. or his obsession with you. or anything.

he clears his throat, hating himself, “um, y/n?”

you don’t respond except for a short grunt that indicates you don’t intend to wake up. he doesn’t have the heart to move you but also, this wasn’t right, was it?

there wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, except of course the fact that it did not help mark’s big fat ugly crush on you or the fact that he spent the whole day thinking about how you were sick and it was his fault.

you move slightly in your sleep, suddenly seeming to come to. your eyes open a little, “mark?” your voice is dangerously low.

“yeah?” mark can hear the nerves in his voice.

you’re pulling him now, without a warning, onto your bed. “you’re warm. stay.”

mark’s eyes widen when you turn to hug him around the waist.

fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK. this was… THIS IS…. UTREJKLSGIURKEJU?????YGSAELRIAY

mark brain malfunctions for a good minute before he remembers how to think. first, he thinks he has to leave or you’ll hate him forever. but when he tries to budge, you groan an annoyed groan making him scared to leave..

??? what is one supposed to do in these circumstances?

he stills, deciding it was better if he let you doze off comfortably. he slowly places an arm around your shoulder, patting a reassuring back rub into your skin. you nuzzle closer into him, clueless of the way mark is short-circuiting.

before he knows it though, mark finds himself dozing off, chin pressed up against the bone of your shoulder. the sleep isn’t chaotic like his thoughts usually are, but it’s a peaceful sleep, the kind that you only get when you share a bed with someone.

—

ever since that eventful… nap, mark has found himself growing closer to you, in all senses of the phrase. you’d seemed to start trusting mark more, your bookstore evenings turning into whole days spent in each other’s company. sometimes you’d be at each other’s room, more often yours, but otherwise, you’d end up in some new corner of campus, giggling over half-completed essays and collectively complaining about econ.

you’d also grown closer… physically. something about spending a sick evening in someone’s arms, you’d like to say. whatever the reason was, one way or another, you’d find a way to be next to each other.

you’d made a habit of holding mark’s hand, especially on colder days when your fingers lost all feeling till you pressed them into the knuckles of mark’s warm ones. other times, mark’s hand would be on your shoulder or back, casually doodling into your skin, a lazy smile on his face while you dramatically narrate some event from your life.

mark could tell something was different, though he dared not investigate what it was, too afraid to mess up what he had right now.

but then, he does the stupid thing of asking you the question.

it’s on a late night hangout in your room when chaewon’s out for the weekend to visit home, and y’all are sprawled on your bed, exhausted from a movie marathon.

something about the dim lights and the way you lean against his shoulder, makes him speak. “do you like someone right now?”

for a good while, mark thinks he mustn’t have asked the question out loud because of how quiet you are. but then, “what about you?”

“not fair! i asked you first,” mark complains with a chuckle. you shrug, “not telling if you don’t.”

he rolls his eyes, “two can play this game, y’know. i’m not giving.”

“ugh, fine. i’ll tell you about my ex for now.”

mark’s ear perks up at the mention and he waits for you to continue.

“ah, this is so embarassing to talk about. but.. last semester i was with taeyong.”

“wait. lee taeyong?”

“mhm-hm. you know him? he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off. we broke up right before new year’s eve so that was fun.”

mark falls silent as he recalls everything he can about lee taeyong. so far he has: perfect face and killer charm. oh yeah, wasn’t he a student athlete?

“you dated an athelete?” mark can’t help but ask.

“see! i know you’d make fun,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“no- no, i’m not making fun. that’s insane. taeyong is, like, famous.”

you groan, “and you’re listing all the reasons i broke up with him.”

mark isn’t sure what he can do with this information so he releases a strained chuckle, suddenly ready to head back to his room. he can’t be too obvious though, so he waits a bit.

“what about you?” you ask him, poking his arm. “any embarassing boyfriends?”

mark laughs despite it all, “i wish. i was in a silly little relationship but it was so long ago that i hardly remember.” with that, he sits up, a little abruptly.

you frown as he clears his throat, “um, anyway, i should get back soon. i’ve got to sleep.”

“the fuck?” you question, “it’s like 11 pm?”

“well, yeah, i have an early morning tomorrow.”

“on a sunday?”

“yeah, uhm, i forgot to tell you about this new job i have. anyways, i should really sleep soon. i’ll see you later, yeah?”

and just like that, mark leaves your room, with you gaping at how fast he’d made his exit, not even bothering to make real excuses. new job? halfway through the semester? yeah, sure. you feel your mood dampening at mark’s sudden cold shoulder, wondering if you’d upset him. but no matter how many times you thought about it, you weren’t sure what had made him act like that.

mark, on the other hand, can’t get the conversation out of his head, even as he walks to the library at 8 am on a sunday, ready to finish all traces of homework in existence. it doesn’t matter though because sitting in the silence of the study room, his mind repeats your words.

he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off.

boy, did mark feel stupid as shit. for everything? for thinking you were into him. somewhere along the way, your hands on his had him confused. for a minute there, he had stopped thinking about how he was actually just some guy. some guy who you chose to hang out with now and then, some guy who was your friend. mark was nowhere close to being taeyong, and even taeyong didn’t cut it for you. really, though, he couldn’t blame you. you really did deserve the best anyone could imagine.

a text from you interrupts his self-loathing spiralling.

y/n: heyoo!! u alive?

y/n: u left kinda abruptly last night. is everything ok?

mark clenches his fist as if to obliterate the hopeful smile that threatens his face. he thinks of how he might respond: sorry cant talk i’ve to make sure i’m not in love with u before i see u again or maybe: sorry i’m just trying not to cry in broad daylight bc i love u too much hjbykyvkvyf

“fuck! sorry!” a voice pulls mark back from his head. he looks up to see who’s broken into his study room… only to see lee taeyong standing there in confusion. of course this happens to mark.

“uhh, can i help you?” mark barely controls the snap that tries to escape him at the sight of taeyong.

“um, sorry,” taeyong looks down at his phone then back at mark, “i could’ve sworn i booked this room for the next hour…”

mark frowns, certain he’d booked this room for the next two hours. usually, he would’ve just told taeyong he’s booked it wrong, but instead he just says, “oh? i guess you can take this room then. i’ll go somewhere else.”

mark starts packing up but the other boy protests quickly, “no, no! it’s okay. i- um, i’d feel bad if you did that. what if… what if we shared? it’ll be nice to have someone else in the room, no?” taeyong smiles brightly at mark and the latter wants his eyes to stop working already.

call it the law of inertia, but something in mark doesn’t let him just leave the room, almost intrigued by how this might turn out. “alright, then.”

taeyong, as much as mark hates to admit it, is really nice. he hadn’t ever heard anything to refute that, but sitting silently in a room with someone really tells you all you need to know about someone. either way, the study sessions somehow seems to provide mark some sense of peace.

or so he thinks.

what he doesn’t expect is that two hours later, as the two of them are packing up to empty the room for the next occupant, for the next occupant to be… you. yes, of course, that’s gonna happen in this story.

for a moment, mark doesn’t find it particularly shocking to see you but when he notices the stiff look you share with taeyong, he realizes what’s happening.

you’d just entered the room with a knock when you’d noticed who was inside. your eyes travel between mark and taeyong, your mind unable to make sense of this.

your first thought is… is this why mark was weird last night? because he was close to taeyong and got offended by your remarks?

that would be the easy alternate, wouldn’t it? but even you can tell there’s a dryness in the way mark looks at the two of you, a look that unsettles you. of course, the sight of taeyong also unsettles you.

he speaks up before you, “y/n?”

you awkwardly wave at the two of them, “hi mark. hey taeyong. didn’t expect to see the two of you together.”

you look at mark pointedly but he’s not giving you much to work with. he just laughs as taeyong rushes to explain, “ah, i made a mistake in booking this room at the same time as mark, and he was kind enough to let me stay.”

marks want to leave right now. because of the way taeyong’s eyes are sparkling at the sight of you, hands nervously fidgeting. but he decides against it, when he sees you uneasy you seem, tight grip around the strap of your tote bag.

“what are you doing here?” mark asks and a part of you is relieved that he’s talking to you.

“um, homework. i didn’t really know what else to do ever since my friend started ghosting me.”

mark flinches at your attack, but persists in looking as indifferent as he can. “sorry about that, i got caught up finishing this essay.”

taeyong awkwardly coughs, “um, i should probably leave now. i have practice to get to.”

mark is quick to follow after taeyong, scared to death of being alone in a room with you. he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. “uhh, yeah, i’ll leave you to do homework, then! see ya!”

and just like that, it’s a repeat of last night. mark’s back receding except this time you watch him wave at you with a half-hearted smile as he leaves. you barely manage to close the door behind you before you feel yourself tear up.

this is stupid, you realize through tears, to be crying over something like this. but something like this? it meant a lot to you. you sit where mark sat minutes ago, the same disappointment in your eyes and a similar weight in your heart.

mark is not having the time of his life either though, as he walks out the library with taeyong, who starts asking questions about you as soon as he can.

“so you’re friends with y/n?” mark simply nods at that, having seen this coming.

“that’s cool. she’s really cool, isn’t she?”

“yeah, i suppose. she’s fun.”

“how close are you to her?”

mark laughs dismissively, “haha, i feel like i’ve done something wrong. calm down, bro.”

taeyong flushes at that, rubbing his neck, “oh, sorry. i didn’t mean to interrogate you like that. it’s just… you probably know about us, right?”

that words leaves taeyong’s mouth and buries itself deep into mark’s heart. us.

taeyong continues, “it’s just that i really miss her, man. i don’t think i’ve had as much fun with anyone else since her. or maybe, it’s just because i’m always comparing everyone to her.”

mark really doesn’t know what to say, feeling himself stuck in a similar situation. “hmm, it’ll get better.”

“i hope you’re right,” taeyong says, cheerfully patting mark’s back, “well, i have to go that way. see you around, bro. take care of her.”

take care of her? marks smiles remorsefully as he watches taeyong leave. and he wonders what was going on in your mind when you broke up with someone that perfect? what went on in your head when you befriended mark, just some guy?

—

on saturday, it’s been a whole week since you’ve talked to mark. you’d actually stayed up all night yesterday hoping he’d have a change of heart on friday night, and he’d text you with a can we talk? or come knocking on your door with an apologetic smile with some silly excuse. and you would’ve accepted it all because you were not familar with a mark-less existence. the past week was.. not good for you.

but on saturday night, you decide it’s enough. or rather, chaewon decides it’s enough when she sees you ready to spend the night in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry but i can’t respect your stupid decisions anymore,” she bursts into the room with a concerned look.

you frown, “ouch? you just called me stupid.”

“because that’s what you’re being. i don’t care if you’re going through it, i’m not letting you woe over some guy on the weekend.”

you grimace at the phrase some guy, remembering your conversation with mark. “hey! i’m talking to you, miss,” chaewon’s hands pull off your bed. “let’s go out tonight. i don’t care.”

“chaewon…” you complain, voice low.

“y/n, my dear friend, stop giving up on life because mark lee is ghosting you. if i know anything about the two of you, y’all will be back to cuddling each other next week.”

you want to say you’re afraid that’s not gonna happen but chaewon is moving too fast for you. she throws a dress at you and then, a coat. “wear those and come to yunjin’s room. we’re pre-gaming.”

an hour later, you’re not feeling so bad after all. you’d forgotten how fun getting wasted really was. you giggle hopelessly when yunjin cracks another “slayyy~” at chaewon’s empty glass. as sakura pours her another shot, you nudge her with your own empty cup.

your roommate frowns a little, “you sure you’re not going too fast?”

you roll your eyes, “chaewon! you’re the one who wanted to slut me out tonight. how am i gonna do that sober?” that makes everyone double up in laughter and you down the vodka with a triumphant sigh.

another hour later, you’re really feeling yourself. the pre-game finally ended with all of you walking to the frat that was throwing tonight. the first step you take into the crowded room has you regretting your decision, but your worries go to waste once you’re hearing the music blast through your veins.

you stay within chaewon’s group for most of the night. the girls are fun, yunjin being one of the best people you’ve partied with. it’s halfway through a doja cat song when you feel your bladder getting full from all the beer. you groan at all the effort it’s gonna take to go upstairs to where the bathroom was, but you could use a break.

you quickly tell chaewon you’ll be back, pointing in the direction of the bathroom and reassure her you’re fine when she asks to come with. the world is definitely spinning as you go up the stairs but you do make it to the top without falling over.

but as soon as you reach for the door of the bathroom, you lose balance as the person inside emerges. “fuck,” you groan, falling over into the person ahead, “’m sorry,” you mumble, supporting yourself against the sink.

you’re ready to push whoever it is out of the bathroom when you heard a familar voice. “y/n?”

you look up and actually gasp when you see mark in front of you. “mark?!” you sound incredulous but honestly, you’re just ecstatic. “i miss you,” you say your thoughts shamelessly.

mark reddens or so your vision tells you. “y/n, are you drunk?”

you frown and shake your head, about to explain yourself when a loud voice outside tells you to hurry up with your business, the door still open. mark shouts a, “find somewhere else, buddy!” and shuts the door, locking it behind him.

your drunk brain isn’t doing well with the concept of you in a locked room with mark. “are you drunk, mark?”

mark laughs at your question, “a little, yeah.”

“okay, good, then can you just-” you lose your balance again and mark steadies you instantly, warm hand on your elbow. you lose your train of thoughts at the feel of him, looking into his eyes wordlessly.

you think you stay there for a minute like that, the two of you just catching up on all the looks you’ve missed out on in the last week.

“why are you mad at me?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for ages. wanting mark to understand how hurt you’ve been, you pull at the sleeve of shirt, “i’ve been so sad. why are you avoiding me?”

mark takes your hand in his, “no! it’s not like that. i’m… not mad at you.”

“really?” you question him through a pout, “really?”

he doesn’t know what to do when pinned with that gaze of yours in that moment. and then his eyes land up on your lips, your little pout.

he knew the alcohol was a bad idea because now he can’t think straight, knowing he has to explain everything to you or he might lose it all. but somehow, instead of words, he feels another ugre crawl up his skin.

just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel mark’s lips on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls away just as soon as he leaned in. he drops your hand, falling to his knees.

it takes you a moment to re-orient yourself after the taste of mark in your mouth, but you hear mark sniffle and instantly join him on the ground, hands on his face.

“are you crying?”

mark tries to stop himself but he can’t. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

“hey,” you find yourself sobering up. how could you not when mark lee is in front of you, tears staining his ever-smiling face? “hey, mark, look at me.” he wipes at his face shakily, looking up at you through a fresh flood of tears.

“i’m sorry,” his voice breaks, “i’ve been acting so selfish with you. i shouldn’t have avoided you. i shouldn’t have kissed you. i’m.. it’s all because…” he trails off conveniently at the part of his sentence you most need to hear.

your fingers trail down to his chin, bringing his face back up, “it’s all because of what, mark? talk to me, baby.”

something in mark uncoils when you coo at him lovingly like that, his name as breathy as the nickname you suddenly throw at him. his lip quivers but his words are clear as day, “fuck, i’m into you, y/n. i know i’m just some guy really but i think i like you. i- like romantically, i’m dying to be with you.” he sighs when you don’t say anything, stunned into silence.

your hand stays put on his face though which mark thinks of as a good sign. gingerly, he takes your hand, gaze pointed at your interlocked fingers. “i know it’s awkward because you’re not into me like that. it’s all good, i understand.”

“mark, you’re drunk,” you finally mumble out, hand twitching in disbelief. “you’re just saying things.”

mark stiffens, “w-what? no! i’m serious, y/n. i’m not even that drunk anymore. how could i be, when you’re right here?” but then, he stirs, hands leaving yours, “oh, but if you’d rather forget that this happened—”

it’s a replay of five minutes ago, except this time your lips come crashing into mark’s, with so much force that you topple him over. he takes you with him, hand finding purchase at your waist as he pulls you on top of him, his back hitting the door of the bathroom.

your kiss is fierce, almost angry because you did not deserve to be kept in the dark about mark’s feelings. you push closer to him, making him groan into your lips at the intensity. you pull away then, hand at mark’s chest, “i hate you for avoiding me like that, mark. i can’t believe you.”

mark tries to explain himself but you’re kissing him again, swallowing his words whole, unforgiving in the way your hands grip his arms. again, you pull away, “what did you think? that i’d stop talking to you because you like me? you’re so stupid sometimes, mark.”

“i don’t—”

“no, you don’t understand. do you see me right now?” mark nods, eyes trailing at your disheveled state. mark couldn’t forget this sight if he wanted to: your hair wet with sweat, panting in between mark’s legs, lips a breath away.

“do i look like i hate you?”

“i mean, you do look annoyed,” mark remarks and you slap his arm with a snarl.

“that’s because you’re being unfair. what about my feelings for you, huh?” you challenge with a glare. “what about how much i suffered just because you decided to not show up to the bookstore? all because you came to some stupid conclusion by yourself?”

“wait,” mark starts, but you’re not letting him talk.

“no, listen, if i could, i’d seriously slap you. because i’m that down bad for you, mark! i’ve been thinking about doing this with you ever since you fell asleep in my bed that day. so fuck you, for hurting me like that.”

you’re breathless, eyes still trained on mark with that look of betrayal mixed with desire. you can’t help yourself though, mark looks absolutely breath-taking in front of you, mouth ajar in shock, lips red from your relentless kisses.

mark takes too long to process your words just then, long enough that you’re coming down from your high, embarassment flooding your veins. you go cold, standing up with a grunt. “i’m just gonna go back,” you mutter in disappointment, leaving before you can see mark’s response.

he’s coming back to his senses now, realizing that maybe you were right about how stupid he’d been. “fuck,” he breathes out, regaining his footing as he chases after you.

this chase proves to be difficult, given that the party only seems to have gotten more crowded since mark left. he struggles through the throngs of people, shouldering through, when he spots a silhouette of you in his peripheral vision. you were outside, apparently talking to another taller figure.

mark follows your shadow to the door, quickly making his way out. his breath hitches when he finds taeyong next to you. his arm is around your shoulder and you’re speaking to him in a low voice.

“y/n,” mark calls out, not hesitating to break taeyong’s hold on you, replacing it with his own embrace. he pulls you close. your eyes are teary and you sniff when you see mark, “what-”

“i’m sorry, can we talk?” he mumbles into your side, still aware of taeyong’s presence.

“oh, hey, mark. i was just,” taeyong moves to stand in front of the two of you, “taking care of y/n. she looked sick.”

“i’m fine, taeyong,” you reassure him, pressing yourself into mark’s side. “i’ll let mark walk me home. good night.” mark is impressed at how easily you dismiss taeyong, pulling mark after you.

“what do you want?”

mark stops you from walking, pulling you into a hug instead. “you’re right, i’m really stupid. let me ask you this instead: would you let me be your boyfriend?”

you release a soft laugh against his neck at his question, arms still for a moment for dramatic effect. then, you wrap yourself around him, kissing your answer into his ear, “of course, you idiot.”

—

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kaeemin · 1 year

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OPEN BOOK

➠ pairing: non-idol! ex-bf!mark lee x reader

➠ genre: angsty

➠ warnings: um they broke up in a bad way ig | marks a red flag here even tho we all know he’s the bestboy ever | cheating :0 | the word ‘asshole’ here is used once in the ending

➠ wc: 1.041 (i think i got a little carried away)

when you pick up your things in his apartment and mark tells you he still loves you.

“I’M NOT HERE FOR ANY FUNNY BUSINESS.”

Your ex of three years, Mark Lee, leaned back on the side of the door with a small smirk on his face. “I know,” he inhales slowly, licking his lips, “it’s great to see you again, Y/n.”

“I wish I could tell you the same.” You grumbled. “Let’s just get this over with.”

It was easy to tell, the pink bra hanging by the dining chair was the biggest giveaway.

Mark must’ve noticed where you were glaring at and he hurried to grab the underwear, shoving it in his joggers pocket. “Forgot to throw it away, sorry.”

You hate how casual he sounded.

“Whatever. Where’s my stuff?” You decided to go right through business. It was useless making a conversation with him anyways. Plus, you couldn’t really stand being in the apartment where you were constantly reminded of painful memories.

Here was when Mark asked you out, when you had gotten your first kiss, and when you also caught him tongue tangled with another woman. Yes, he cheated.

“I packed them for you, you know, as an apology. But I left some since I didn’t know which you still wanted.” He shrugged, walking to his room (the room you both used to share) and grabbed a huge box.

“I told you I don’t need your sorry—“

“—but I want to say sorry.”

You paused, blood boiling. It took a few seconds of you opening and closing your mouth, not knowing what were the right words to say. “Even…even if you want to say sorry, and even if you say it a million times, I can’t forgive you.”

Mark’s eyes softened. He looked like he was also having difficulty deciding what to say, so he gave up and placed the box on top of the table. “The rest of your things are still in the room. Feel free to look around and take anything you want.”

Without responding back, you walked past him inside the room. Nothing really changed much, everything was the same as you remembered. Except, the polaroids that were once stuck to the wall were gone. It was weird seeing the plain wall.

“I didn’t throw them away,” you hear Mark speak from behind you, “they’re in the box.”

“You don’t wanna get reminded, huh?” You scoffed loudly, but there was a painful pinch in your heart. Those polaroids hold memories and him admitting to not keeping them did hurt a little more than needed. What else did you expect from a cheater anyways?

“No, quite the opposite actually.”

In surprise, you turned around to face him and then regretted it the next second. Mark smiled, genuinely but small, still though, his eyes reflected thousands of emotions and you had a hard time reading them—reading him. He was holding a familiar sweater.

“It hurts, Y/n. I remember everything everywhere I look, even if I close my eyes. But even if it’s painful, I want to remember.” He confessed. Everything about him was so genuine. Mark stared at you in an almost pleading way, he looked down on his hand and sighed. “It’s your favorite sweater, take it.”

It is, in fact, your favorite. You used to wear it everyday, every night, and was always fussy when it had to be in the laundry. But you hesitated, because it was his sweater. You don’t know if you could handle wearing it again.

“I can’t,” you stammered. Tears were slowly filling your eyes and your lips quivered. Suddenly, you felt everything crashing down. It felt like a truck hit you. Your boyfriend of three years, the one who you thought you’ll spend forever with, cheated on you and stepped on your heart until it broke into millions of pieces.

Enough was enough. You needed to get out. Mark stared at you in silence and it pisses you off.

So, you pushed him roughly to the side and walked out of the room, hugging the huge box close to your chest. It was heavy and difficult to carry, but you didn’t want to ask for his help. In fact, you never want to have him involved in your life ever again.

“Y/n, I—“

“God, Mark, why do you have to make everything difficult?” You cut him off, spatting every word with venom. You faced him, eyes puffy and cheeks full of tears. “You’re the one who bought another girl home, you’re the one who messed everything up. You broke both my heart and my trust. Which part of ‘I don’t want anything with you anymore’ don’t you understand?”

“I’m sorry..”

“Stop saying that!”

“I can’t!” Mark finally lost it. The mask he placed on now fell off, and you could finally see how messed up he was too, if not more messed up. His sudden outburst shuts you up. This time, it was you who was staring at him in silence.

He breathed harshly, Adam's apple going up and down before he continued speaking in a hoarse but more gentle voice. “I just can’t stop saying sorry, okay? I know I screwed up, I know I made the biggest mistake of my life. The guilt is eating me alive, Y/n. I thought I was over you, I thought I didn’t care anymore, but I’m wrong. Because I still love you. I love you so, so much and I never stopped.”

It was clear now.

Finally, you could read him like an open book. Yes, Mark made a mistake, but you did one too. Believing him was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.

“Yeah. You’re wrong.” You sniffled, balancing the box in your left arm while opening the front door. “You never loved me, you’re just using that as an excuse to feed that guilt in you. You’re an asshole, Mark Lee. I hope you rot in hell.”

And with that, you walked your way out of his apartment and his life.

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smileyerim · 1 year

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Mark would stop on the side of the road if he saw a patch of flowers and thought they were pretty. He would pluck them up himself for you. Whenever he saw pretty flowers either walking around or driving, he would stop and pick some for you like its a natural instinct. Rarely do the flowers get back to you in good shape or even at all. He forgets they’re delicate little things and he would stuff them in his pockets or his bag. Next time he wears that item again he’ll find dried up petals in the pockets and send you a picture of them. If he does remember to give them to you, they’ll be wilted and bent. He would never actually buy you flowers, the thought never really crossed his mind to do so. But if this man is absolutely head over heels in love with you, he will be thinking of you a lot and pretty flowers remind him of his pretty girl. He isn’t even trying to be extra sweet and cute, it literally is just him.

#just some sweet ass mark thoughts #love him #mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee thoughts #mark lee fics #nct #nct fluff #nct fics #mark leexreader #mark lee drabble #mark lee imagine #mark lee fic #kpop #mark imagines #mark fluff

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sluttyten · 1 year

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UNHOLY - Chapter Sixteen

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

summary: Renjun led you, WinWin, and Mark away from the House, brought you to a portal, but you couldn’t even imagine where it will lead to, and what exactly you will find on the other side.

length: 17,340 words

tags: a few things, but the only one that’s really important is tw vomit (at just one small point) and angst, which there’s a decent amount of this chapter

<-previous || next–>

Swimming through the icy cold black waters of this portal fountain takes more out of you than you could have imagined. Only the presence of WinWin at your side, his hand in yours, keeps you moving onward, moving down into the colder and darker abyss. This water feels deeper than the portal into Purgatory had. Your lungs scream for air, but you can’t see the light of the surface rising towards you yet.

WinWin’s arm slides around your waist instead of just holding your hand.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe this has all been a trap.

Maybe you’re swimming into nothing, down into the abyss that you had hoped to save yourselves and Yuta and Ten from. Would it be so bad, you wonder? To just open your mouth and let the black water in? To keep sinking?

You’re so tired.

WinWin’s arm hooks around your middle, his legs kick and bump against yours as he continues swimming. You weakly try to keep going, but what’s the point when all that is ahead of you and behind you and on either side of you is blackness. There’s no sign of Mark or Renjun. There’s nothing. The water is thick and black, a struggle to swim through even if you’d been full of energy.

It makes no difference whether your eyes are open or closed, so you close them. You kick your legs, and hope WinWin is still swimming down. Or is it up at this point? You can’t even tell. You feel so waterlogged that gravity has no meaning.

You feel WinWin kicking his legs more frantically, swimming forward with a renewed sense of desperation, and you wonder if he’s running out of air as well. Are these the last surges of energy before he gives up too?

You’re startled out of your existential dread when your head breaks the surface.

There’s only time to gasp, expelling water, sucking in a tiny breath, before you’re pushed back under.

WinWin’s arm tightens around you, fingers slipping on your skin as he attempts to drag you back towards the surface. You open your eyes, feeling the sting of briny water, and you realize why you hadn’t seen the surface approaching.

Waves roll overhead, pushing you and WinWin down beneath the water again, buffeting you back from the shore as he attempts to swim for it. Dark sand and pebbles roll beneath your toes, a gray sky of roiling black clouds flashes with lightning above the surface before everything fades to black again. Only when the lightning flashes can you see anything at all, but the fact that there’s a surface world to see reinvigorates you to try.

Now you grasp WinWin, swimming with him again for the surface only to be buffeted down again. And again. Your lungs sear with the need for air again, but WinWin grabs your hand, swimming with you along the pebbly bottom of this sea, aiming for the slope up towards the shoreline, hoping that if you just stick to the bottom that it will be easier to make it to the surface. You keep your eyes forward and upward, watching for any lull in the waves, any sign that the stormy sea could be calming even a little bit.

WinWin’s fingers dig into your wrist, jerking you forward, trying to get you to swim faster. You understand the urgency of the situation. Your lungs ache with the need to breathe, and you know that you’ve only got moments before your instinct to breathe overwhelms your sense to not drown.

You can feel the storm waves beating down above you, the force of them sending you crashing more than once down against the pebbles, getting a nose full of sand at one point, but still you and WinWin struggle onward.

Again, you break the surface, feet somewhat steady on the pebbled seabottom. A wave crashes over you causing your knees to buckle. You force yourself to your feet again. Another wave. You crawl forward, receiving a slap over the head from a mountain of water. You drag yourself through the foam piling on the edge of the shore, washing through the stones which roll, slick with seawater and moss and slime, but this time, the wave only washes over you. This time you can gasp for breath and breathe in the air. This time you haul yourself forward, and collapse facedown on the shore.

“I’m–” Beside you, WinWin’s voice is a rasp, coughing up and gagging on saltwater forcing its way out of his lungs. He tries again, “I’m never fucking doing that again.”

“Agreed,” answers a voice from a few feet away.

You lift your head.

The storm rages on overhead, lightning illuminating the shore. Renjun is spread out on his back, embracing a faceful of rain. He turns his head to look at you. “I’m glad you could join us. That was brutal.”

“Where’s Mark?” You ask. You can’t bring yourself to sit up or do more than lift your head.

“Over here.”

His voice comes from your other side. You don’t have it in you to turn your head that way. You don’t even have the strength to keep your head up. You drop your cheek back to the pebbly sand beach. Your whole body aches. Your shoulder throbs. There’s a pounding headache growing. Your cheek burns from the saltwater and the grit that have touched the slash on your cheek from that branch earlier.

The pebble sand crunches, and you feel Mark’s hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle as he carefully turns you over. You blink as the rain peppers your face, but there is Mark above you, blurry again for the second time in the last half an hour.

“Baby,” he says affectionately, stroking your hair. “You’re safe now.”

Mark shifts, sitting down on the wet stones, and he lifts your head into his lap. You want to close your eyes and sleep, but Mark touches his cool fingers to the side of your throbbing head, pressing in a way that makes it feel even worse. You squeeze your eyes shut, startled a little when his skin brushes your lips. Then you feel the wet heat, taste the metallic tinge leaking over your lips, and you realize what’s happening.

“Drink. You need it.” Mark curls around you, ignoring the other two as they pull themselves up off the ground.

You hate the taste of blood, but you can’t deny that you can feel it taking effect as soon as you first swallow down a bit of it. The pain lessens, strength returning, the scratch on your cheek knits itself back together. You push his wrist away after you’ve had your fill, now utterly disgusted by the taste of the blood on your tongue.

Mark softly kisses your forehead. “Better?”

You nod. “Better. Thank you, Mark.” You sit up, brushing away the sand that sticks to you, and as Mark moves away to go check on Renjun, you take a look around.

The stormy sea extends far into the distance ahead of you. Behind you, a steep cliff rises into the sky, a narrow, winding stair cuts up the face of the stone, leading up to the top of the cliff, tufts of grass and chunks of white and pink flowers peek over the cliff’s edge. There’s a small hint of something, and as you blink through the rain trying to see it, you can’t quite make out what’s up there, other than a shadowy indication that there is some sort of structure up there. But there’s no real sign of what type of sanctuary Renjun has brought you to.

“Where are we?” You ask, pushing up onto your feet.

WinWin groans, lifting himself off the ground, slowly rising onto his feet. He stares up at the cliff. Mark comes to stand on your other side, and Renjun steps up beside him as well.

“We’re still in Purgatory,” Renjun explains, “But they won’t be able to find us here. We’re safe.” He sighs heavily and points up at the winding stairway up the cliff face. “But we still have to climb up there.”

Even after drinking the healing blood from Mark, your body is aching and tired. The prospect of climbing all that way sounds dreadful.

“Do we have to?” WinWin staggers, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Unless you want to live on this beach,” Renjun says, “Yes, we have to. There’s someone up there that wants to see us. He’s eager to meet everyone.”

You, Mark, and WinWin exchange confused looks, but in typical fashion, Renjun doesn’t elaborate. He walks away toward the base of the cliff.

“We are safe here, aren’t we?” WinWin mutters out the side of his mouth. Mark shrugs.

“There’s only one way to find out.” You pick your way carefully over the beaten pebbles at the sea’s edge to the bigger rocks where the beach butts up against the cliff’s base. You call back at them, “Come on!”

You choose not to think about how long and grueling this climb up to the top of the cliff is going to be. You’ll just take it one step at a time, following behind Renjun with slow progress as all of you are tired and sore at this point. The only relief in all of this is that there is a handrail fixed to the cliff’s face, making it slightly easier to haul yourself up step-by-step. You can’t look down either, terrified as the ground falls away and the cliff slopes steeply down to the rocks below.

Only once do you look down and that’s only to look backwards, checking to make sure that Mark and WinWin are behind you. You’re surprised to find that they are, but more than that, Mark is carrying WinWin on his back. WinWin’s arms are around Mark’s shoulders, his legs around Mark’s waist, his cheek resting against the top of Mark’s head. To Mark’s credit, he doesn’t seem too burdened at all, but that could just be a perk to his vampire strength.

You’re all panting, drawing in ragged breaths, calves and thighs burning from the climb when at last your party emerges at the top.

Mark collapses to his knees, dumping WinWin off onto the soft green grass that covers the ground up here, and WinWin, without complaint, spreads out like he’s on the softest bed. Renjun stands with his hands on his hips, face lifted to the rain which has tapered to a gentle mist. You want to do what all three of them are doing, but instead you look out at your surroundings.

You stand on top of an island in the midst of an endless sea. Strange gulls wheel on the wind above the island. In the distance there is sunlight shining on a blue sea, but here the air is bitterly cold and damp with teeth, cutting through your wet clothes. The steely gray sea batters against the shore beneath you, splashing high up the face of the cliff to your right where you can see huge monolithic rocks rising from the water; they must have once been a part of the cliff before weather and time cast them down into the sea.

Closer at hand, there is something much more amazing.

A lone lighthouse sits here atop the island. And it’s not just a lighthouse. It’s more of a house that happens to have a lighthouse sticking out of it, the top of it nearly disappearing in the clouds. The house itself is gleaming white, polished and clean. It is a fine house, not nearly as large as the House you’d just left, but it’s more than large enough to house you and your companions, and certainly much larger than anything you’d expected to find here. A nicely paved path winds from where you stand, through the gate of a white picket fence, to the front steps of the house.

The gate in the fence is already partially open, moving slightly in the breeze. Flowers line the pathway; beautiful flowers like you’ve never seen in vibrant colors that stand out even in the muted light from the storm. It looks inviting, but there’s no one here to invite you in.

“So where’s our host?” Mark asks from his spot kneeling on the ground. He rolls his shoulders, shaking out his arms. “Who is it?”

Renjun glances over at you. “Don’t freak out.”

That makes WinWin roll over onto his stomach. “Why would we freak out?”

“Well,” Renjun wrings his hands together. “He is a Watcher.”

You’ve never seen WinWin move so fast, even with his injury. One second he’s lying on the ground, and in the next he’s right in front of Renjun, his hand tight around the other’s throat.

Renjun coughs, hands struggling at WinWin’s fingers.

“I– said– don’t–” Renjun chokes out, feet kicking in the air as WinWin lifts him.

“What excuse could you possibly have?” WinWin growls, eyes flashing yellow in the gray light of the storm. “How could you have brought us here? Brought her here, claiming this would be a safe place for her? What explanation is there?”

“A simple one,” states a calm voice, startling all of you.

A man stands several feet away, leaning on the fence. His hair is wind-tousled, long and loose around his face. Just looking at him, you can’t quite determine his age. He’s older than you, that’s certain, but his face is unlined and full of a youthful glow; his eyes betray him, deep and worn with age, like he’s seen everything since the beginning of time. But he offers up a smile.

“I’m glad you all could make it. The storm had me a bit worried, and of course, the unexpected change in plans leading to a more rushed arrival meant I didn’t have much time to make arrangements,” the man says, a shine in his eyes. He stands up straight, reaching forward to swing the gate open further. He looks over the three of you, his gaze landing on WinWin. “You need not worry, my boy. She will be safe here. All of you are welcome and safe here in my home. That means you have to let go of him.”

With a slight frown, WinWin releases Renjun, who gasps as his feet touch down again; he scrambles away, putting a few feet of distance between himself and the werewolf. WinWin ignores Renjun, automatically moving closer to you, his arm brushing against yours. “All of us?”

The man nods again, offering an even brighter smile. “Of course. I’m grateful to have you all here.”

“Excuse me,” Mark says, finally pushing up from his spot kneeling on the ground. “But why do you care? Why are we here? Who are you?”

Your gracious host steps aside, swinging the gate fully open now. “Would you like to come inside? We could discuss all of this much more comfortably inside, out of the elements.”

Renjun walks through the gate, passing by the man and heading straight for the house. None of the three of you move, watching him go, watching your host still watching you.

“Why should we trust you?” WinWin asks.

“Trust is a big thing for you, isn’t it?” The man says, and he lifts a hand from the fence to comb his hair back from where the wind keeps blowing it in front of his eyes. “I can’t blame you, of course. Having been raised as a lone wolf, of course you’re going to be protective when you’ve finally found your pack as an adult.” His gaze hones in on you. “When you find someone truly worth protecting, why would you be able to trust anyone who might put her in harm’s way.”

WinWin growls, stepping in front of you to hide you from the man’s sight. You peer around WinWin, not wanting to look away from the strangely calm and warm aura the man gives off. He grins, sending a wink your way, and there’s something almost feline about the way that he holds himself in that moment – a certain pride and amusement at the situation that you swear only cats can embody.

Mark shifts beside you, and the man’s gaze returns to him.

“To answer your questions, young man, you are here because I’ve invited you here. I’m bringing you under my wing of protection, into my home, where you will be shielded from the ever-Watchful eyes of my brother Watchers.” His gaze cuts suddenly back to WinWin when he says, “And you can trust me not to betray you to them because I have been hiding here from them for a few decades now. If anything, I should be worrying that it is you I cannot trust.”

You can tell from the tense set of WinWin’s shoulders that he doesn’t like having that accusation thrown at him. You twist your hand in the back of his shirt, and you rest your cheek against his arm. He relaxes only slightly.

The man shrugs. “I’m not really worried. Any enchantments or tracking or bugging they might have somehow placed on you would have been washed away in the sea and negated by the other shields put around this island.”

From his words alone, you can tell that he must be powerful if he can hide himself and this entire island from the Watchers. But now that you look closer at him, as you truly focus on the man leaning against the fence, you realize that you can feel the power emanating from him. This isn’t just a Watcher that Renjun has brought you to. He must be a high-level Watcher, like those who have immense power rivaling or perhaps even surpassing the High Watcher himself.

“Like I said before,” the man continues, “you’re safe here. I haven’t held the same beliefs as my brothers for many, many years. My brothers favor humans, thinking very little of the supernatural beings. I find God’s other creations delightful, wonderful companions for the most part. Werewolves, demons, and vampires.” His gaze flicks towards Mark, settling on him and the scrapes that are still healing from the scuffle with the creatures in the garden of the Watchers. “I know my brothers don’t feel the same.”

“I appreciate that, sir.” Mark dips his head, staring down at his feet. “But you still haven’t answered why you care enough to offer us protection. And we still don’t know who you are.”

He smiles warmly once again, gesturing back towards his house. The front door is open, Renjun having disappeared inside. “Once again, I welcome you to come inside where we can talk about it.” He looks from Mark to you, then says, “The storm doesn’t quite look like it’s clearing up any time soon, and the three of you already look soaked to the bone. I’ve got warm showers, fresh clothes, and a kitchen table waiting to be filled with food fit for guests.”

WinWin sighs as a sharp breeze blows up the cliff’s face, whipping and biting at your backs. He shivers, and you remember that his clothing, in addition to being soaking wet, has large gaping holes in it from when you went supernova in the garden. WinWin says, “Let’s just go inside. You trust Renjun, Renjun trusts him. I guess we’re all just in one big fucking trust circle.” He reaches down to take your hand, and you quickly tangle your fingers with his to offer a reassuring squeeze. WinWin glances over to check your face, then he says, “Also, I’m starving, and a warm shower sounds amazing.”

Your host laughs.

The sound rings on the wind, and for a moment you swear a distant ray of sunlight spans the ocean to warm your back. His eyes shine with a glint that almost strikes you as familiar. He turns on his heel and walks along the paved path toward his front porch.

You slip your free hand into Mark’s, holding tight to both him and WinWin as you walk along behind your host.

The man is very handsome. He cuts a tall, imposing figure. Dark hair peppered with a hint of silver at the temples reaches down towards his shoulders in a well-kept manner. He holds himself very properly – very straight posture with his shoulders back, his gait even to the point where he could be floating over the path. He climbs the couple steps up onto his porch, and then strides right through the front door.

The porch curves along half the length of the front of the house and then around the corner. There are chairs, small tables, plants, and you notice a bird’s nest nestled in one of the rafters of the porch roof. A set of windchimes makes soft, soothing music at the corner of the porch, and for a moment you can picture yourself sitting here, watching the sun cross the sky, enjoying the breeze and maybe a nice cup of tea. Relaxing.

“Coming?” Mark asks, tugging lightly at your hand. He’s already got one foot over the threshold of the house. WinWin has released your hand, and taken it upon himself to step around Mark, entering the house before either of you so he can stand right in the entryway and look around in surprise at the place.

You step closer to Mark, looping your arm around his, and together you step inside.

Immediately you’re in the body of the lighthouse. The walls rise in a hexagonal shape, a set of stairs hanging tight to the odd-shaped walls up to the next floor and then one more above it. You tip your head back to admire the stained glass colors stretching across the opening to the floor above you as a few stray beams of sunlight make their way through the house’s windows. To your right, an archway leads into a sitting room. A fire crackles in the fireplace, artwork lines the walls. There’s a piano, a few sofas, and something that burns with a scent and a staticky feeling that you can only define as magic.

Mark tugs at your hand, bringing your attention around, and this time you look through the matching archway on your left. This one leads into the kitchen. A large, open kitchen that could fit two dozen people comfortably. A long kitchen table stretches the length of the room. Another fireplace burns here. Dried herbs and flowers hang from a rack suspended from the ceiling. Pots and pans gleam on the long countertop that lines the back wall. There are plenty more windows here, though several are shuttered against the weather.

Someone clears their throat.

Your host stands across from you, standing perfectly in the center of the space, over the heart of a compass rose inlay as part of the pattern of the wooden floor. Renjun stands there too, admiring a painting on the wall beneath the stairs. WinWin faces him too, just a few feet ahead of you.

“Welcome,” the man says, spreading his arms wide. “Bedrooms and showers are upstairs on the left.” He lifts his hand indicating the left wing of the house. “Take your pick of the bedrooms. The bathrooms, I apologize, are detached from the bedrooms and there are only two of them.”

You remember the home you lived in growing up with your mother and your father. Well, your step-father, you suppose. That’s going to take some getting used to, thinking of him that way. Even after the initial partially false news that Yuta and Ten had given you about your partial demonic heritage, you’d still believed the man who raised you to be your biological father. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he might not actually be, not until the other bombshell they’d dropped on you not even twenty-four hours ago.

Anyway, you were letting yourself get sidetracked. Your host made the two-bathroom situation sound like something to actually be sorry about, but in the house you’d grown up in, you and your parents had shared just a single bathroom. Your first apartment back home when you’d moved out and gotten a roommate had only had one bathroom, the one after that when you lived alone until you disappeared to Hell City had only one bathroom. The apartment in Hell City had only one. Up until you’d arrived at the House of the Watchers, the idea of having more than one bathroom had been almost foreign to you. Having two bathrooms in this house is certainly no problem, not to you.

“Towels, toiletries, clothing. Whatever you need,” the man is saying, “Just wish for it, and it shall appear.” He smiles, and his eyes crinkle in the corners.

Mark looks over at you, squeezing your hand in his like he wants your attention, but in that moment your host is still speaking, saying, “After you’ve all showered, warmed up and dried off, I’ll be down here in the kitchen, and you’re welcome to rejoin me for a warm breakfast and the answers to your many questions.”

With an incline of his head, you’re all dismissed.

Renjun dashes up the spiral stair, vanishing with the sound of a closing door before your foot has even touched the bottom step. Mark and WinWin trail you up the stairs, and you stop once you reach the landing. The hallway that stretches into the left wing of the house is open, showing a blank stretch of hall with eight doors leading off of it, and it dead ends at a window that looks out over the sea. Seven of the doors stand open, but the one closest to where you stand is closed with the sound of running water behind it.

On the opposite side of the landing, the way into the right wing is closed. A pair of double doors bar the way, but if you had to guess, you would say that your host’s bedroom lies in that direction.

WinWin brushes right by you, heading for the second bathroom. “Let’s get showered,” he says, “I want some answers.”

“So do I.” Mark follows right behind WinWin, and of course, so do you. All three of you lock yourselves into the bathroom.

The whole room is a sterile white. Rectangular white tiles line the walls, small white tiles cover the floor. A white tub, white sink, a white corner of the bathroom that acts as a shower, a white-edged full-length mirror sits across from the tub and the shower, and there’s a white toilet, white towels, white curtains over the frosted glass of the window. To a certain degree, it reminds you of the green bathroom in the House of the Watchers. Though that could just be the heavy reliance on the antique fixtures and ancient plumbing. The pipes shudder and groan when WinWin reaches over to turn on the water of the shower. The water pours from the shower head but also from a hidden shower head up at the ceiling that you’d missed before. The spray splatters against the tile floor, and you notice that the floor does at least slightly slope towards a drain in the corner so the water doesn’t go everywhere.

WinWin pulls his burnt clothes off, kicking them over into the corner near the door. He steps under the shower’s spray as soon as steam begins to rise, and he moans softly at the massaging heat of the water.

Without any clothes or anything else to shield him, you can at last see his leg. The right ankle is swollen, his calf is bruised and bleeding slightly with visible claw and teeth marks ranging as high as his upper thigh.

“WinWin,” you gasp, walking over to him without any regard for the clothes you’re wearing as the shower begins to soak right through you. “Your leg!”

He nods. “I know.”

“Well, doesn’t it hurt?” You ask, sinking down to touch lightly, taking a closer look at the injury. “This looks like you need some medical attention.”

“Stop,” he groans softly, touching your shoulder. “I don��t think there are any doctors here. And the second best option, the one that healed up you and Renjun, is as likely to kill me as heal me.” He looks behind you to Mark. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get it clean, get something to eat, and maybe our new pal will have some magic Watcher remedy to fix their fucked-up monsters’ bites.”

Mark snorts a little laugh, and you turn to look at him, watching him as he starts to strip too. His shirt hits the floor, his thumbs tuck into the waistband of his pants. A whistle from him draws your eyes up to Mark’s face. “Eyes up here, sweetheart. Unless you plan to stay on your knees for us like a good girl.”

WinWin groans. “No. Not right now.” He reaches down, tucking his hands beneath your armpits to haul you up to your feet. You open your mouth to protest, but WinWin’s already pulling your shirt over your head, and that silences you. “We have more important things to be doing that the two of you fucking around in the shower. I’m sure we’ll have time for that later, and I’d love to join in then, but right now we’re showering. Just showering.”

Your shirt comes off, and you push away his hands when he reaches for your pants. “I’ve got it. I’m not a child. I can undress myself.”

Mark whistles again as you bend over to push your pants down, and you and WinWin both turn to glare at him. He holds his hands up in surrender and looks away from your bare ass. “I’m sorry, I was just… We just really marked you up a lot more than I thought. Are you just that soft, babe? Bruise like a sweet little peach?”

That’s when you take a look down at yourself, and take a long look at your reflection in the full body mirror.

From your throat down to mid thigh, your skin is patterned with hickeys, bite marks, light bruising and scratches. You knew you got a bit carried away with them before you fell asleep, but you didn’t remember all this. It was like each of them had been trying his best to stake his claim on you. You’re not sure who exactly won.

WinWin’s fingers brush lightly over a bruise on your throat. “Maybe he’ll have some magical Watcher remedy for this too.”

When Mark joins the both of you under the steaming shower, you notice that he doesn’t have any lingering injuries or remnants of last night. He looks perfect, and you have to force yourself to look only at his face or risk distraction. WinWin is helpful in managing to stay on track. For the most part, each of you focuses on yourselves as you scrub away the grime of the Watchers’ garden, the salt of the sea, the blood and sweat from the fight, but every now and then you can’t fight the urge to just reach over and slide a few fingers down Mark’s spine as soap bubbles draw a path. You can’t help it that the warm water and the finally standing still are making you sleepy so you take a moment to lean your head against WinWin.

“Not right now,” WinWin says gently, petting your head. “We’ve gotta get back downstairs.”

You have many things you want in that moment. You want to sleep. You want to lose yourself again in the touches of these two men. You want to march downstairs and demand answers from your host and from Renjun. You want to be back in the House of the Watchers, either breaking your boyfriends out of the dungeons or supporting them through the trial. You want for all of this to be over, for none of it to have happened. You want to wake up from this nightmare, to find yourself back in the apartment in Hell City, tucked safe and sound between Yuta and Ten with no idea that Watchers exist, with no idea that you’re anything other than a little more than human.

WinWin finishes showering first, and he is the first to put into use the version of manifesting that exists here. He manifests clothes for himself, for Mark, for you.

The bathroom across the hall is empty when the three of you emerge, and you can hear Renjun’s voice downstairs, echoing from the kitchen. The house is so quiet that you can hear the crashing of the waves on the shore beneath the cliff. Mark takes the lead down the stairs, and you hang back with WinWin, studying the slow way that he navigates down the stairs, taking care not to put too much weight on his right leg.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs to you. “It doesn’t hurt all that badly. It’ll be fine, princess. I'm sure this guy has got some sort of fix-it for me, okay?”

You sigh at him. “I'm banning the use of the word ‘fine’ between us all, okay? I don’t think any of us know how to use it.”

That brings a smile to WinWin’s face, and Mark turns at the bottom of the stairs to look up at you. “What about: you’re looking fine today, babe. Does that work?” Mark asks, trying his best to wink at you, except it’s almost more of a blink. It’s cute though, so you laugh.

You find Renjun and your host seated at that long table in the kitchen. They’re seated at the far end, with the older man at the head of the table, both of them eating a selection of fruits, breads, and other light breakfast foods. A steaming carafe of coffee sits on the table, and WinWin reaches for it as soon as he’s seated, taking the seat on the left hand of your host while Renjun’s already sitting on his right hand side.

Mark slips in beside Renjun, and you take the seat beside WinWin. Your foot nudges against Mark’s ankle beneath the table, and he glances up at you from beneath his eyelashes with a faint smile, and then his ankles close around one of yours, holding you there even as your host begins to strike up conversation.

“Do you feel better?” He asks kindly. “I could expand the house to add more showers, if that would be more convenient? I didn’t mean to put a rush on you, or intend that you should all three have to shower together.” His warm gaze settles on you before moving in turn to Mark and WinWin.

“That’s okay, sir,” Mark says. “We don’t mind.”

The man cocks his head slightly to the side, but if he has any thoughts in particular about that, he keeps them to himself. “Anyway,” he says, clapping his hands together. “I believe you had some questions for me. And now that we’re all settled, I have some answers for you. Please, eat while I talk.”

You are rather hungry. Your dinner last night was interrupted by Mark, and you’d certainly worked up an appetite since then. So sitting here now, you reach for a little bit of everything, just needing to fill up. WinWin does the same, grabbing large helpings of the available options. Mark simply sits back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he observes your host.

“Are you finally going to tell us who you are, sir?” Mark puts the question forth.

At the head of the table, your host nods. “Of course.”

You wait for a moment as he shifts to get more comfortable in his seat, and then he folds his hands on his stomach, and begins speaking.

“This lighthouse has been around for many, many years. Before Purgatory was established, the pathways between Earth and Heaven went straight there. There was no confusion, no way of being lost. But when my father created Purgatory for my brothers and I, he added this new step, a layover for souls on their journey to Heaven. Because of the added step, there was confusion initially, souls were lost, and some still wander the dark corners of Purgatory, searching for their way to Heaven. For the benefit of loss prevention, the lighthouses were built; a series of lighthouses throughout Purgatory to guide new souls on the way to Heaven, to find the lost souls and redirect them on the correct path. These lighthouses are the light at the end of the tunnel that humans talk about, though occasionally there are some souls who catch a glimpse of it before their time.

“Some of my brothers were given swaths of land in Purgatory. The rich fields, mountainside views, each of us gifted a lighthouse and territory to control to assist our High Watcher in his rule. I think, truly, it was a way of keeping my brothers and I apart, a way to perhaps limit our search for knowledge. We, the first generation of Watchers, have always been believed to be more powerful together than apart, so separating us was a good decision by the High Watcher when he feared a coup. We were scattered, only ever together when he summoned us to the House.

“Over the millennia, the lighthouses became less useful until now when they are nearly obsolete. My brothers have found other ways of directing the souls to Heaven, and thus, have retired several of the lighthouses. This one is retired, which made it much easier to move and hide this island without the notice of my father, the High Watcher, or any of my brothers. No one cares to visit an empty, obsolete old structure, and by the time any of them thought to come look for me, neither I nor my lighthouse was where it ought to have been.”

He looks proud of himself, and once again, you get the sense of looking at a cat. The pleased tilt of his smile, the way his eyes flick around the table to each of your faces.

“This is all a great history lesson,” WinWin says around a mouthful of cream bread. “But it’s not really answering our question.”

“Patience,” your host chastises. “I knew that I had to hide myself and my island because I knew that one day, I would need a safe haven to hide the things dear to me. For some things, by the time I went to collect them, I was too early, for others too late. There’s no better way to bring a powerful man down than making him feel powerless by finding that the one he longs to protect has already been taken away by the time he arrives. Moments, hours too late.”

He stares down at his hands folded on his stomach, and you feel the weight sinking into your own stomach.

You know exactly what he means, how he feels.

It’s how you’d felt when your parents were killed. Like, if maybe you’d come home earlier, or if you hadn’t been out, then maybe you could have done something.

It’s how you felt about Yuta and Ten, knowing that maybe if you’d mastered your powers more, then when Hansol had come for them in Hell City, maybe you could’ve stayed to fight instead of Ten making you flee. Instead you’d sat powerless and scared in your apartment while they were taken away. And even when you’d found them again, you still had no power to get them out. Look at you now. You don’t even know what’s happening to them.

As if Mark can sense how you’re feeling in the moment, he leans forward. His hand brushes your knee beneath the table, and he catches your eye, silently offering reassurance and his hand to hold if you need it.

Your host continues. “Several years after I withdrew to this place, I was contacted by an old friend. One of my younger brothers, whom I had personally trained in his youth, whom I consider myself closest to of all of my brothers, reached out to me with a tale so wild, I at first didn’t believe it. He’d fallen in love with an elf, one of the servants at the House. She’d run away, back to Earth, and he’d followed. They’d had a child together, one of the rare half-Watcher children. He assured me they were safe, that he was being clever and careful, feeding false leads to the rest of the team that was searching for her and the missing elves. But even he knew the risk, and he made me vow, that if ever anything happened to him and his wife, that I would keep an eye on their son.”

He turns his face to Renjun. “Of course, as soon as I heard what happened to Renjun’s parents, to my dear brother and his wife, my first thought was to bring the poor child here. To raise him in the safety and secrecy of my island. But then I thought better of it; if I snuck him away, they would certainly come looking for him. Renjun was an anomaly to be studied, someone they were deeply curious about, and the High Watcher wasn’t likely to let someone like him so easily slip away. So I kept a close eye on him, as did the kin of his mother. I checked in through the years, and slowly, as I realized that he found the House not so much a home as a prison, I made myself known to him. I brought him here to see the life I could offer him away from the House of the Watchers.”

“I didn’t accept,” Renjun interrupts, turning his head from his substitute father. From his uncle, perhaps? “It’s nice here, of course. But at the time, I was like, fourteen. The House was a prison, and I hated it there, but I also knew that I liked being around the other elves. I liked that I could learn the secrets and the ways of the Watchers while also secretly learning elf magic during the hours I secreted away in the back of the kitchen. So despite the tempting invitation to come here, I knew that for the time being, I would be better off at the House.”

“But the invitation would never be revoked, I made that clear.” Your host says, “I developed a secret means of contact with him, to establish an emergency line, essentially, so if he were ever in great need, I would know, so that I could open the portal between the House and here, or so I could arrive to help him.”

“Mirrors,” Renjun grins at you. “He taught me the mirror magic. We can move through them, or we can see each other through them and communicate.”

The man nods. “I can teach you, too, if you’d like.”

You would. It would be nice to have two means of escape — teleportation or mirror magic.

Mark drums his fingers on the table. “You know, this is all nice, but I feel like we still —”

Your host holds up his hand, silencing Mark effectively. “I knew that protecting Renjun was the best I could do with what I’ve been given in this world and in the one you come from. Like I mentioned earlier, I created this safe little bubble of an island so I could protect the ones dear to me, and I’d missed my chance. I arrived too late, unable to protect anyone. Too many times in my long life have I developed relationships with my brothers, with mortal humans, mortal supernaturals, even with the immortals of Earth, and time and time again I have seen them wither, fading and passing from that world into whatever awaits them in the beyond. I have had many names given to me over the course of my life. Appearing to mortals, I have been an angel, a god, a monster, a man. I have been called Michael, the archangel. I have been Shangdi, Taevaisa, Bochica, Vishnu, Thoth, and many more. To some, I have been simply known as The Father. Renjun has known me as Ira, and you may call me that as well.”

Ira looks around at the four of you. Renjun picks slowly at his plate, WinWin is still digging into the meal, but Mark is looking right back at Ira, watching him closely.

“I still don’t understand why you cared enough to allow Renjun to bring us here,” Mark says. “Him, that makes sense. You know him, you care for him. But we’re strangers.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Ira says, smiling brightly still. “I built this place to protect those dear to me, and too many times I was too late to bring them here under my protection. I wasn’t about to let that happen again, not when my own daughter’s life was on the line.”

Every pair of eyes in the room snaps towards you.

Ira’s smile has faded for once, a serious expression on his face as he looks at you and says, “She’s my daughter. Of course I care.”

When Yuta and Ten had revealed to you that your real father was a Watcher, you had accepted that fact but only in a surface level type of way. You accepted it like a piece of history, something from long ago that was irrelevant to the present. You hadn’t thought too much about that man that your mother had once had a relationship with, the one who had contributed genetic material but nothing more. You had ceased to imagine him still existing.

Except now you’re in this moment and so is your father.

And all you have to say is this: “I didn’t know you were still alive.”

Mark laughs, but immediately clamps down on the sound.

Ira – your father – cocks his head to the side a bit as he watches you now. “As I said, I’ve been in hiding for several years. After they learned of the relationship between your mother and I, of the miracle that you are, my brothers at the House of the Watchers weren’t only looking for you, dear. I’ve been perfecting the safety of this island for a long time, but never have I spent more time and dedication on protecting this bubble of Purgatory since you were born. It belongs solely to me now, separate from the rest of this plane. They don’t even know I exist here, and that’s exactly how I wanted it so that someday I could bring you here to keep you safe from them.”

True safety. This is what Renjun had promised earlier when he said it was somewhere safer where the Watchers wouldn’t find you.

Thinking of that reminds you solely of the fact that this is yet another thing that Renjun likely knew of this whole time, that he’s neglected to tell you. And, additionally, your father could check in on a boy that was not a direct relative of his, but you were his daughter, and up until this moment you hadn’t even known that he was even alive. Not the slightest hint. Had he ever cared how you were?

Either Ira can read minds or he can just read your expression. His gentle smile returns. “Don’t worry, my dear, I’ve been Watching you your whole life. Keeping you safe when your mother couldn’t. She didn’t know that there was a slight loophole in all of the protections she laid over you, in those contracts and all that mess. She tried so hard to hide you, even from me, but I found my way around it. You were invisible to every supernatural being but her and me. I visited you a few times.”

“You did?”

He nods. “I can change my shape, disguise myself in a variety of ways.”

WinWin drapes his arm over your shoulders. “If you’ve been watching over her for her whole life, then why didn’t you step in when you realized she was in danger.”

“I wanted to, but I knew that doing so could harm her more than help her.” Ira leans his elbows against the table, staring down at the woodgrain for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is soft enough that a rumble of thunder from outside wipes away his first words, but he repeats them for you, “I was deeply upset to hear what happened to your mother, my dear. I planned to bring you and her both here, if at all possible, but she never wanted much to do with me. I wish that nothing of the sort had ever befallen her; that you had never had to know the pain of that loss. I knew that her protections on you would remain in place so long as you were innocent and oblivious to this life, so I left you alone. I still checked in on you, disguised as a bird or a cat, as I had when you were younger. For years, things were fine. You went about your human life. I kept you safe when I sensed danger.

“I didn’t sense those demons, however. They stole you right out of your life, and I couldn’t find you any longer, and I knew that the protections that your mother and I had placed over you had worn off.” He lifts his head, gaze flicking back and forth between you, Mark, and WinWin. “I paid Renjun a visit. If you ever made an appearance in the House, he needed to notify me. He came to me as soon as my brothers took those demons of yours into custody. He got word to me again when you showed up a few days ago with a vampire and a werewolf in tow. My ability to keep you from danger obviously vanished along with those other protections.”

You take Mark’s hand beneath the table. “None of them are a danger. Not Mark or WinWin, and not Yuta or Ten. They’re all that has kept me safe over these past few months.” You cover WinWin’s hand on your shoulder with your hand. “You haven’t ever actually been a part of my life, so how could you even begin to understand?”

Your father clears his throat. “I know I’ve been an absent father. I’ve never been a father before, so I’m not sure where to really start, but I’d like to start here. I want to understand, dear daughter. I’m offering you a Home, a safe-haven where I will show and tell you everything you wish to know. Your friends can stay here. Let this be your new home. Let me know you. I want to be a father who can make a good life for his daughter.”

Well, how can you argue with that?

“There’s only one problem with that.” You lean back in your seat, folding your arms across your chest. “My boyfriends are still trapped in their cells in the dungeons of the House of the Watchers, likely being sentenced to their deaths today if we don’t save them. The happiness of your daughter, Father, relies on their lives being protected.”

He nods slowly, looking into your eyes. “Is that all it takes?”

Yes. The survival of Yuta and Ten does affect your happiness. In fact, your happiness hinges on it almost exclusively.

Your father grins, straightening up from the table. He snaps his fingers. “That can be arranged, dear daughter. But you’ve had a busy morning of escape and other perils, there’s no reason we need to rush into anything right now. The comforts of my home await. Warm beds, and this breakfast as well.” He pushes away from the table, chair legs scraping against the floor, and he stands and leaves the room without another word.

“You dad is weird,” Mark mumbles.

WinWin makes a sound of agreement.

You look right at Renjun where he still sits in his seat, fidgeting a bit uncomfortably. He swallows when he meets your gaze. “Anything else you’re hiding from me, Renjun? I’m a little tired of the people around me lying to me about my own life. First, Yuta and Ten don’t tell me that they knew that I was a half-Watcher half-demon. Then I realize that you also knew, but didn’t tell me. And now I have to find out that you not only knew with certainty who I was from the first moment we met, but you also knew that my father was alive and that he could protect me? Could probably protect Yuta and Ten too?”

“Calm down,” WinWin says, curling his hand around your wrist.

Your fingertips are burning.

You curl your hand into a fist, extinguishing the flames against your palm, though your fingernails continue biting into the softness of your palm.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun apologizes with a sulky tone. “I couldn’t tell you! I didn’t know how you would react, and he wanted to tell you himself! None of this was the plan originally.”

“Well, what was the plan then?” Mark asks, twisting in his chair to look at Renjun beside him. “What exactly happened that you suddenly decided that we had to escape this morning? What did you find out?”

Renjun shrinks into his seat, curling his knees up towards his chest, and he lifts a hand up to nibble nervously at his nails. Mark reaches over, grabbing his wrist and dragging his fingers away from his teeth.

“Talk, Renjun.”

“I don’t really know. I was sneaking around the halls, keeping an ear out, watching the Watchers to make sure that none of them were coming for you guys, okay?” He keeps fidgeting. “I heard some of them talking about a security breach, that some ward somewhere in the House or on the grounds of the estate may have been triggered. They weren’t exactly sure what it meant either, but they knew that they were going to tighten the watch on you guys. And then one of them said something about how they definitely weren’t going to let any of you leave, even after the trial. Apparently there were plans in motion already to make it seem like Mark and WinWin had committed some crime, so they would be held for trial also. And, of course,” he says while looking right at you, “They were planning to make you a prisoner of the House too so they could learn more about you. Maybe they were planning to use you to lure Ira out of hiding too. I don’t really know.

“It just all sounded bad, and I knew if they were tightening security on the three of you, then there wasn’t going to be much of a chance to get you out of there at all. Already Ira and I had planned to get you out of there after the trial because we just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good, but with the way that those Watchers were talking, I didn’t feel like we could cut it that close. I couldn’t risk you staying through the trial and being actually imprisoned there with no chance of escape.”

Again, you can feel your flames tingling just beneath your skin.

You’re angry and upset and you want to burst into tears and flames at the same time. You’re not sure if it’s Renjun or the Watchers or Ira or maybe even your mother that you’re so angry with at this point. If your mother would have just been open and honest with you through your life, would any of this have happened? Maybe she would still be alive, but it was her secrets that killed her in the end, wasn’t it? Hiding you from all the people who wanted to get at you and your unknown powers.

“How are we going to know about the trial now, though?” Mark asks. “Or does Ira have some plan to burst into the House and stop it?”

Renjun shrugs, staring down at the table with wide eyes. “I don’t know what he’s planning.”

All you know is that if Ira doesn’t come to you with a plan within the next few hours, detailing to you exactly how he’s going to maintain your happiness by ensuring the survival of your boyfriends beyond today, you’re going back to the House yourself. You don’t know how you’re going to get there, or what exactly you’re going to do once you get back there. You don’t care if you have to go alone, though you have an inkling that there are at least two individuals in this house that won’t let you go back by yourself.

Breakfast continues. WinWin devours half of the food on the table. You pick at the food that you’ve put on your plate, in addition to the food that WinWin and Mark keep filling your plate with. In between bites, you glare at Renjun until he slinks out of the room.

You’re not quite sure what to do with yourself once your plates are cleared. Ira had told you to make yourself comfortable in his home, but how are you supposed to be able to relax without knowing what’s going on back at the House of the Watchers?

“Why don’t we look around outside?” Mark suggests. “I’m sure there’s more to see of the island than just that bit of beach and the stairs up here.”

You’re sure he’s right.

Still sitting at the table, WinWin winces silently in pain as he stretches his leg out in front of him. Mark just watches you, as if he’s worried that you’re going to explode into flame and go rocketing off into the sky, in search of the House of the Watchers on some distant horizon.

“Or we could go to bed,” WinWin suggests as he start to stand, but he sits heavily back into his seat with an exclaimed, “Fuck!” WinWin hisses, reaching down to roll up the leg of his pants. “What the hell is on those monsters’ teeth? Shit.” The injury to his leg looks even worse than it had in the shower. The bite on his calf and the claw marks are turning black and swollen. His ankle is also bruised to high hell.

“Maybe we should ask Ira if he knows what to do?” You push up from your seat. “WinWin, that looks serious. I don’t think you can brush it off as being just fine anymore. It’s definitely gotten worse.”

WinWin grimaces and nods, leaning back in his seat. “I’ll just stay right here. Please, go. Go search for Ira.”

The fact that he gives up so easily, that he closes his eyes and grits his teeth without making another attempt to stand or brush off your worries, well, it all worries you even more. He’s in pain, and you don’t know how to fix him.

You don’t have any clue where your host could have gone. He hasn’t made a sound since he left the kitchen, and now you don’t even know where Renjun disappeared to.

Mark follows behind you as you step out of the kitchen. The sitting room across the entry is empty, though there is a door out onto the wrap-around porch that is open, the gauzy curtains flutter in the breeze. Mark checks, but there’s no one out there either.

“Ira!” You call up the stairs. “Renjun?”

You’re slightly surprised when Renjun appears almost immediately, leaning over the railing of the next floor. “What?”

“Do you know where Ira went? I think WinWin needs medicine or something. His injuries from those monsters in the garden are getting worse.” You glance over towards the kitchen where you can still see WinWin sitting at the table. “Or do you happen to know a cure?”

Renjun shakes his head, lifting his arm almost absentmindedly to cross his chest and brush his fingers over the bite mark you remember was left on his shoulder. “I think it’s something to do with their venom. Mine hasn’t healed up yet either, despite Mark’s blood.”

Mark hisses behind you as Renjun pulls aside the collar of his shirt to reveal a bite mark that is similarly black and swollen.

“Yeah, I’d say both of you need some fucking medical attention. And, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can smell those wounds all the way from here. Rancid.”

You spin on Mark, immediately reaching for his shirt, tugging at the collar.

“Excuse me!” Mark laughs, grabbing your wrists, wrestling a little with you. “What are you doing?”

“They didn’t get you anywhere, right?” You try to get a peek beneath his shirt as if you hadn’t just seen him entirely nude half an hour ago, free of any bitemarks from the monsters. “Mark, you’re not hurt too, are you?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Stop freaking out. I’m–.” He cuts himself off before he can say the word fine, a small smile quirking the corners of his lips up. “I’m not hurt, baby.” Mark looks up at Renjun again. “Do you know where Ira went?”

Renjun pulls his shirt back over the wound. “He’s probably in his study. Up here.”

You climb the stairs, Mark as close as your shadow. Renjun’s already walking around the circular landing toward the closed doors. He only pauses for a moment to knock on the doors before he turns the handle and pushes one door open. Inside is a small entryway before another set of closed double doors, but Renjun doesn’t walk towards those doors, instead he leads the way to a set of stairs to the side of the doors. The stairs rise up, curving gently with the curvature of the lighthouse tower’s walls.

“Ira?” Renjun calls as he climbs.

You hang back a few feet. Mark’s fingertips rest against your lower back as you tread up the narrow stairs.

You can smell once again the scent that you first caught in the sitting room. Whatever it is that burns and gives off the feel of static. Some sort of magic. There’s a muted buzzing and drone of a voice – or possibly even multiple voices – up above your head. You watch Renjun’s feet as he walks around the curve of the stairs, vanishing from sight as he reaches the top of the stairs, this area that must be Ira’s study.

You feel like a bubble pops across your skin, and suddenly you can hear once more. Ira’s voice and Renjun’s. Peculiar light fills your vision as you and Mark finally ascend the last few stairs into the study, and you see where the source of the light comes from. All of the windows around the room are like those at the House; each window has a different view to somewhere else out there in the world, some sunny, some just as overcast as the true sky outside this lighthouse. The stairs continue again on the other side of the room, rising up to the room at the top of the lighthouse, but your focus is drawn to the center of the room, to Ira standing at a desk covered with piles of papers.

Renjun’s standing close to him, speaking in a lowered voice, his shirt collar pulled to the side again. Ira’s prodding at the wound with his fingertips, examining the injury so intently that he barely spares a glance for you and Mark.

“Foul beasts,” Ira mutters, shaking his head as Renjun moans in pain. “We should have banished them to hell eons ago. They attack more brothers and servants than intruders. It’s an easy enough cure.” He finally looks up to you and Mark. “Where is the other boy?”

You stand as tall as you can, chin tilted, your eyes sharp as you address your father. “His name is WinWin. Not boy.”

“WinWin isn’t much of a name either.” He steps away from Renjun, brushing his hands off on his pants. “Well, where is he?”

“In the kitchen. His injuries are more intense than Renjun’s. He can’t stand anymore.” You stare at him, looking at his face, surprised to find that now that you know the truth you can see some of your own features reflected on his face. You had always thought that you looked a lot like your mother, but that was possibly only because your dad hadn’t truly been your father; he’d held no physical similarities to you, so now faced with the man who you actually share them with, it’s staring you right in the face.

Ira nods. “Good. I must put together the cure in the kitchen anyway. It’s better he’s already there. Come along, children.”

You bristle a bit at that, and even more as he brushes by you, hurrying down the steps. Mark presses himself against the wall to avoid Ira knocking into him. Renjun grimaces, tugging his shirt back over his shoulder, keeping his hand there as if the weight of his hand against the bite makes any difference. He moves slowly back towards you at the top of the stairs.

“I am sorry,” he says earnestly. “About not telling you about Ira. About any of it. I didn’t feel it was my place to tell you the truth about your parents. Especially since I knew how much Ira wanted to be the one to tell you he was your father. It would’ve been weird to hear from me, right?”

You look at him, at this half-elven young man. His eyes gleam silver as he looks at you right now, shifting quickly to brown when he hisses in pain, pulling his hand away from his shoulder. You’ve trusted him since the moment you met him, and even with him withholding the truth of your parentage from you, you still trust him entirely. And, if everything they’ve told you is true now, then Renjun stands as one of the only relatives you’ve got left in the world – all the realms that it encompasses.

Renjun starts to walk past you to the stairs, which Mark has already begun to descend ahead of him. You quickly fall in step behind Renjun to say, “So, you’re like my cousin, right? If your father is my father’s brother?”

That makes Renjun stumble a little, but he glances back at you. “Yeah, something like that. I – I didn’t even think of that.” He laughs a little then says, “It’s been a long time since I’ve actually had any family. I guess I never really considered that Ira is kinda my uncle. My mother was an only child, so I don’t have any relatives left among the elves. But, yeah, I guess you’re my cousin. And we’re both some of the most rare half-breeds the Watchers have ever known.” He laughs again, a little louder as the pair of you reach the bottom of the stairs, exiting out onto the landing.

Ira is already down in the kitchen, examining WinWin’s leg. His pants leg is torn up to his upper thigh, and you can see now that it’s not only his wound that is black and swollen, not just his ankle that’s bruised. Veins and poisoned blood climb his leg, little dark lightning bolts buried in his skin, reaching all the way up to his thigh. WinWin is panting, his eyes flickering back and forth between human brown and wolf yellow.

“Shit.” Renjun walks into the room, collapsing down into the chair opposite WinWin. “Mine doesn’t look that bad.”

Ira shakes his head, murmuring something quietly over WinWin’s leg. You feel that burst of static, a faint scent of something unidentifiable on the air. A faint glow coats WinWin’s leg from his toes up to his hip. Ira straightens, rising to his feet. “That should stabilize him while I put together the cure. I would assume that drinking the vampire’s blood, Renjun, is what has helped slow the venom in your system.”

You move over to sit beside WinWin, touching your hand to his forehead. He’s glistening with sweat, fire-hot to the touch. He sighs when you lay your fingers to his skin, and when Mark comes over to lay his cool palm against WinWin’s heated skin, WinWin actually whimpers. “That feels so nice,” he says, leaning into Mark. “I feel like I’m on fire. And not in the good way.” His feverish gaze flicks up to yours, and there’s the ghost of a smile.

With a light pat to his cheek, you say, “You must not be feeling too bad if your mind can go there right now.” You’d tried your best to contain your flames when you were with WinWin during his rut, and especially during the activities of yesterday since you didn’t want to endanger Mark. But there had been a time or two when you’d gone awash in flame during his rut, particularly once Yuta had joined in. He knew the heat of your flames, and if he wanted to consider feeling them the good kind of way, then that was his right.

Ira stands at the fireplace, and it takes you a moment to realize that there’s a cauldron boiling there over the flames, and that your father is summoning things into his hands from the open door of the pantry you hadn’t previously noticed. He tosses ingredients into the pot, murmuring more words that make the hair on your arms and the back of your neck stand on end, that fill the air with that odd scent. You’re familiar with the sulphuric smell of demon magic, but this Watcher magic Ira’s practicing is like nothing you’d smelled before.

WinWin takes your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He squeezes your fingers with a grunt of pain. “It still hurts.”

Mark says something in a tongue you don’t know, and WinWin glares up at him. Whatever he’s just said, clearly it’s a language they both know, but neither of them decide to translate it for anyone else in the room.

The glow on his leg pulses and throbs. Renjun grunts on the other side of the table as well.

“Ira–” You say sharply as you take a look down at WinWin’s leg. A fresh tendril of darkness unfurls above WinWin’s knee, crawling upwards slowly. “I thought you said your spell was supposed to stabilize him. Why is it spreading again already?”

The Watcher at the fireplace spins around, striding over to you quickly. Mark puts both of his hands on WinWin’s face as new beads of sweat spring to WinWin’s forehead, attempting to cool him down even a little bit. Ira crouches down once more holding his hands above WinWin’s leg, murmuring and casting a new layer of glowing light over the first.

The cauldron in the fireplace bubbles and boils, giving off an herbal, medicinal aroma. As part of the mixture splashes over the side into the flames below, Ira stands once more to return to it, still adding in ingredients. He glances back over his shoulder to find you watching.

“Daughter, can you do me a favor?” His hair, so neat earlier, now flutters around his face, though bits of it stick to his forehead as he sweats before the fire. “There’s one ingredient I need that I appear to not have in stock. I need you to go out the back door,” he points over to the corner beside the pantry, to a door that leads outside. “Head down the stairs at the cliff’s edge, and in the cove ask the sea for three strands of sea silk.”

“What?” You frown. He wants you to leave WinWin right now? WinWin clutches your hand tighter.

Ira sighs. “I don’t have time to repeat myself. Ask the sea for three strands of sea silk. Go.”

“Go,” Mark repeats your father’s command. “I’ll stay right here. I’ll make sure WinWin’s fever stays down. Go.”

You feel a wave of panic as you hurry to the door Ira indicated. You throw it open and step out onto the windy face of the island. The tall grass back here ripples and waves like the sea below, but you run through it, facing the fine misting rain that falls. The ground here slopes towards the sea, but you find that it too ends in a cliff, and after a moment’s searching, you find a set of stairs here that leads downwards.

This set of stairs isn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d had to climb just earlier this morning, but it also doesn’t have a railing, the steps are cut naturally into the cliff’s face, slick from the rain, forcing you to slow somewhat. You descend as quickly as you can into the cove below. Another pebbly shore awaits you, boulders jutting out of the water, and the cliff curves in a crescent around this small inlet, protecting it from the vast stormy sea outside the safety of the natural barrier.

As your feet at last meet the shifting pebbles, you stumble towards the sea’s edge where foaming waves roll onto shore, washing between the small stones. Moss and slime coat the beach here, the occasional seashell, bones of small sea creatures and half-rotted logs. This part of the island isn’t nearly as charming as the lighthouse above, but you face the unpleasantness as you wade into the water, making it only a few feet out before you trip over something beneath the surface, and you fall to your knees. The water rises to your chest, lapping against your chin as the waves pass.

You feel a little bit foolish as you close your eyes, bowing your head over the foaming seawater, asking, “I require three strands of sea silk. Please.” Is that how you’re supposed to phrase it? You’ve never had to ask the sea for anything before. How polite are you supposed to sound? Is there a particular way you’re meant to address the sea? Again, you repeat, “Ira sent me for three strands of sea silk.”

The wind whistles around the cove, echoing in a strange way that hauntingly sounds like laughter, and as it picks up, blowing your hair back over your shoulders, it almost sounds like a song.

You open your eyes, looking out to the sea visible through the arms of the cliff surrounding this cove. In the distance you see something splash in the water, something dark and big. You send a prayer to whoever may be listening that there aren’t hungry sharks in this sea of Purgatory.

A wave rolls past you, pushing at your shoulders, and nearly tipping you backwards in the water. You shift, trying to find your feet, but the pebbles beneath the water roll and sink around your feet, closing in, making it nearly impossible to find your footing. You look up again, trying to spot where the dark splashing animal might be, and to your horror you see a flicker of a fin sharply cutting through the water.

You gasp, trying to reach beneath the water without submerging your face, trying to dig the pebbles away from where they keep sinking in, swallowing your feet.

Another wave rolls by you, pushing at your shoulders. The wind whistles eerily again. Seawater splashes you in the face, and as you splutter, blinking to get the saltwater out of your stinging eyes, you hear another splash.

You open your eyes, braving the sting.

A face floats in the water, just beneath the surface. Dark eyes watch you, sharp teeth appearing as the face’s lips spread in a predatory smile.

“Oh, Minnie, leave her alone!” A chiming voice sings from the shore behind you.

You don’t dare to take your eyes off the face in the water, even as she emerges. Her eyes shimmer, her shockingly pale hair clinging to her cheeks and shoulders as she stands in the water, looking behind you. “You ruin all my fun, unnie. We never get visitors anymore, and I just want to play.”

The girl – because that’s what she is – swims around you, and you see the dark flick of a finned tail, navy scales blending almost seamlessly into the dark water of the cove. She passes by you, making for the shore.

At last you turn around.

A woman is lounging on the beach behind you, propped up on one of the boulders close to the cliff’s base. Unlike the girl who has just scared the shit out of you, this woman doesn’t have a tail, though her two legs do appear to have a red scale pattern that fades the longer you look at her. Her long black hair falls straight over her shoulders, clinging to her chest. Her lips are bloodred, eyes sharp, and when she lifts a hand to point at the other girl, you see her nails are talon-sharp and dark red to match her lips.

“Minnie, she’s asking for our help. She says Ira sent her, so don’t be a bitch.” A crown of seashells sits on top of her head.

The navy-tailed Minnie pulls herself from the water, dragging herself over the pebbles, and as soon as the edge of her tailfin is clear of the water, she immediately begins to transform. Her fin becomes feet, her tail splitting into legs, and she rises on sure legs to approach the boulder where the other waits for her. Part of you feels you should look away from her nudity, because neither of them has a lick of clothing on them, but watching as her tail fully transforms into two legs, covered in navy scales that fade until her legs – and those of the other woman — only possess the faint sheen of a scale pattern on otherwise tanned skin.

“Seulgi, you’re just no fun.” Minnie says as she joins the other on the boulder, perching herself right on the edge of it so they can look at you. Her heavy-lidded eyes blink down at you, and then she cocks her head to the side with a smirk. “Well, aren’t you going to come out of the water too?”

As soon as she says it, you realize that the pebbles are sliding away from your legs, that you can move them again, that you can rise to your feet.

Just as you do that, you feel the water shift behind you again, and you don’t even have to look to know that another one of them has just emerged from the water behind you. You put yourself firmly on shore before you dare to look back over your shoulder. Another woman, pale and beautiful, with small sea stars adorning her hair, the color of which is bright as autumn leaves as it falls in gentle waves down to her hips. She follows you out of the sea. Iridescent scales that seem to change color with every move slowly fade from her skin as she makes for the other two women.

“We heard your request, girl,” this third addition says. “A request from Ira, you say?” She slides onto the same boulder as the other two, fitting herself alongside the red-scaled Seulgi. She glances at the other two. “What do you think this means?”

Minnie sighs, rolling her head back on her shoulders. “How should we know, Sunmi?”

The orange-haired one, Sunmi, you suppose, rolls her eyes at Minnie. “This means, dear sister, that Ira’s daughter has finally come to visit.”

Minnie gasps, whipping her head around to look at you. Seulgi just gives you a long, sweeping look, as if trying to see if Sunmi’s words could be true, as if comparing you to your father up on the cliff. Sunmi smiles warmly at you, definitely the warmest of the three sitting before you.

“We’ve known Ira for a long time, girl,” Sunmi says. “He brought us here from Earth for safety when the sailors of the world decided to hunt my sisters and I for sport. They were tired of our games and songs, didn’t like how we sang them into the sea with us.” Minnie smiles her sharp-toothed smile. “Ira’s one of the good ones, where some of his brothers would have speared us through with a lightning bolt and offered our burnt corpses up to the sailors. We like your father. Liked your mother too when we caught glimpses of her. He’s been so excited about you since you were born, you know.”

Seulgi grins at that. “Even more excited over the last few months, thinking that maybe you’d come visit soon.”

“And especially this last week or so,” Minnie chimes in. “I heard that cute elf is up there too.” She looks longingly up at the cliff, tilting her nose into the wind, inhaling. “Did you bring anyone else fun with you, girl?” Her eyes shimmer darkly when she lowers her gaze to you.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Ira sent me to fetch three strands of sea silk. Can you help me with that?”

Seulgi twirls a section of hair around her finger. “And what do we get for helping you, little one? We won’t do it for free.”

There’s a pang in your chest, a dash of panic. WinWin is up there, the venom of the Watchers’ monsters eating through him. Renjun too. You don’t have time for the games of these sirens.

“You get Ira’s thanks.” You quickly say, wondering how many minutes you’ve been gone, how much further the venom has spread in WinWin.

Minnie’s sharp teeth flash again. “That’s not enough. I want the pretty elf boy. He was so charming when he first came to visit Ira. All silver and smiles.” She runs her fingers through her pale blonde hair, braiding it in sections so quickly you can barely follow her movements. You’re tempted to spit out that she would be helping her pretty elf boy if she would just help you find three sea silk strands.

Sunmi stands on the rock, stepping down from the boulder into the pebbles. “Stop teasing her, you two. Can’t you see that look in her eyes. You’re going to scare Ira’s daughter off and then he’ll be very irate with us.” She twists her hair around, draping it all over one shoulder, but it’s so long and thick that it manages to still cover her up almost modestly. “We’ll help you, child.”

You startle a bit when the siren approaches you, holding her hand out. You don’t understand for a moment what Sunmi is doing, until the wind blows around the cove again, whistling peculiarly, and something thin and dark flutters between Sunmi’s fingers.

A single strand of long, long, long fiery hair.

“A strand of sea silk, better known as siren hair.” Sunmi takes your hand with her free hand, coiling the strand of her hair into your palm. “We don’t give these out willy-nilly, but for Ira…. I don’t know what spell he needs it for, but I assume if he’s just gotten you back and sent you down here to deal with those two–” She flicks a quick look over her shoulder at her sisters. “--Well, he must be in dire need. Good luck to him. Good luck to you, too, child.”

Seulgi appears a second later, wrapping herself around Sunmi to drop a long straight black hair into your palm too. You quickly pinch it between your fingers before it can flutter away in the breeze. She tucks her chin over Sunmi’s shoulder, watching you with her sharp gaze. “If you’re going to be here for a wild, little one, you’re welcome to come down to the cove anytime. We do so miss playing with others. Bring your friends, if you like.”

She takes Sunmi’s hand, twirling around you, dragging the other siren with her as they dash into the waves and plunge beneath the dark surface, vanishing with a flick of a fin each. And that leaves Minnie.

She stretches out on that boulder as if she’s sunning herself despite the fact that the clouds overhead appear even more dense than before. Her pale hair fans out around her on the rock, exposing herself to the sky and the cliffs and the sea. And you. She smiles with all her teeth, and you’re not sure if she means it to be inviting or threatening, either way, you keep a little bit of distance.

“Oh, come now, girl.” She rolls her eyes and holds a hand up. You can see the pale silken strand of hair fluttering from between her thumb and forefinger, rippling in the breeze off the sea. “If my sisters gave you a strand each, of course I’ll give you one too. I can’t have them outdoing me. And besides,” she sits up quick as a flash, her dark eyes narrowing, as she says, “I want you to put a good word in for me with the elf boy.”

Somehow you don’t think she’s Renjun’s type. Not that you really know what his type is, but it’s probably not the kind of woman who looks like she would just as soon eat him as kiss him. You quickly take the strand of hair from her, squeezing it into your palm with the other two.

“Thank you.” You glance over her once before you remember that you’re wasting time down here, and you walk for the steps cut into the cliff’s face. Behind you she sighs, flopping back across the boulder, humming into the wind in a way that echoes around the cove, sweeping across the water. You’re a few steps up when you think of something, and you lean over the edge, looking down at her on the rock. “Minnie?”

Her eyes flash open. “Yes?”

“Did you three really meet my mother?” You ask, clutching those three strands of hair to your chest. Your heart aches, wondering when and why and where these sirens saw your mother.

She once more shows you all her jagged teeth. “Demons and water don’t often mix, but when Ira was attempting to woo your mother, he brought her on a boat to sail the seas of Earth, Purgatory, to glimpse the gates of Heaven among the stars. Your father can be quite the romantic when he tries. Usually we’re the ones seducing men, but when my sisters and I watched from the water as your father wooed your mother, we were the ones seduced. Your mother was a more difficult prize to win than we were though.” Minnie laughs. “She was brave and strong, fierce enough that if she hadn’t been born a demon, I’d have loved to have seen her as a siren.”

Minnie laughs and begins humming again, the sound following you as you climb the rest of the stairs. As soon as you reach the waving grass at the top of the cliff, you run towards the house once again. You don’t move your hand from where it’s clenched into a fist over your heart, even as you stumble up the back steps, as you throw open the door into the kitchen again, you don’t for a moment loosen your tight hold on those three silken strands from the sirens.

You pause as you burst through the door.

WinWin is spread out on the table now, the leg of his pants entirely torn off as you look at the swollen, darkened mass of his leg. Mark sits on his chest, hands on his face, pinning WinWin to the table as he bucks up, jolting and groaning, crying out from the pain. Renjun sits still in the seat where you left him, the shirt he’s wearing torn open to expose his shoulder and the vicious, ugly dark zigzags of venom stretching from his shoulder towards his heart. His pupils are wide, the silver iris of one eye nearly blending into the white, while the dark brown of his other eye makes that eye look almost entirely dark.

Ira is still sweating and muttering over the cauldron.

His voice saying your name is the only thing that snaps you out of your daze. He holds out a hand, beckoning to you.

“Here,” you say, hurrying towards him. “The strands from the sirens.”

You pass the orange, blonde, and black hairs to your father. He barely glances at them before they’re tossed into the boiling mixture. He doesn’t take his eyes off of it as he stirs with a long stick. From the corner of his mouth he asks, “They didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”

“Minnie scared the shit out of me. Seulgi and Sunmi are nice though. They were all excited to see me.” You turn to look again at the table. “How much longer until the cure is ready?”

WinWin’s whole body jolts, nearly knocking Mark off of him. His head tips off the edge of the table, and you realize that you can only see the whites of his eyes.

“Ira?” You twist back around to your father. He’s muttering again, and the boiling surface of the cauldron begins to take on a luminescence, a sweet smell rising to blend with his particular scent of magic.

“Fuck!” Mark cries as WinWin’s entire body jumps, this time dislodging Mark onto the floor.

You look around just in time to see WinWin turn over and vomit black onto Ira’s nice kitchen floor.

Mark sits frozen on the floor, staring in horror.

Ira pushes you out of the way, the blazing cauldron held in his hands as he moves towards the table. The first thing he does is drop the cauldron in the chair he’d occupied during breakfast. The second, he flips WinWin fully onto his stomach, pounding a hand against his back while WinWin continues making these horrible retching, choking noises. Third, he looks over at Renjun.

“Get a cup, boy. Drink up.”

Renjun immediately takes one of the cups that had been knocked onto the floor at some point during one of WinWin’s convulsions.

You stand, rooted to the spot, watching as Renjun plunges the cup into Ira’s concoction. Renjun downs it in one go, like the strangest shot you’ve ever seen. He dips the cup into the cure again, passing it over to Ira. “Give it to him,” Renjun says, “Before it’s too late.”

Ira pounds his hand on WinWin’s back again, before turning him over.

You cover your hands with your mouth, sinking down into a crouch, unable to watch as Ira pours the cure into WinWin’s mouth. You hear the sound of a hand hitting flesh, the sound of WinWin attempting to cough, choking on the cure. A quick peek reveals your father with his hand covering WinWin’s mouth, pinching his nose, forcing him to swallow it.

“Pour some on his leg too,” Ira says to no one in particular. Renjun dips the cup once more into the potion, and you watch as he walks down the table, dumping the contents of the cup along the length of WinWin’s leg. “Put some on your shoulder too, just in case.”

Renjun doesn’t even bother with the cup now. Removed from the heat of the fireplace, the concoction in the cauldron is already congealing – more paste than liquid now – so Renjun dips his hand in, smearing it over the bite mark and the jagged lines of spreading venom which already look to be receding.

WinWin gasps as Ira removes his hand from his mouth, and you jump to your feet, throwing yourself over to his side. Mark gets to his feet as well, pressing his shoulder against yours as you both lean over WinWin. His eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. A black streak from the vomit is dried on his cheek, smeared a bit on his lips.

“Look,” Mark says softly, and he points to WinWin’s leg.

Beneath the spread of the cure-paste across his leg, you can see the lines of venom fading from his skin. There are still scratches and bites, but they even look better, half-healed almost. You wonder if they’re going to leave scars. The worst bite is at his calf where it looks like that beast he fought nearly tore the calf muscle entirely away. But you see now that even that is somewhat knitted back together, scabbing beneath the paste.

Renjun sighs, slumping down into his seat, lifting his hand to his shoulder which is once more smooth, pale skin. “Lucky you’ve got sirens for neighbors, then, Ira.”

Ira grins, lifting the cauldron from the seat to carry it over to the countertop beside the fireplace where he’s already manifested a row of containers. You watch as he begins dividing the cure-paste into the containers, and when he catches you looking, he explains, “I figure I might as well save it. Who knows when or if we’ll need it again. Your boy might need more doses, judging by the bad looks of some of those bites. Lucky he survived the monster that attacked him. Not many do escape the beasts of Purgatory.”

“Lucky?” WinWin coughs, cracking open an eye and craning his head to try and see your father. “Not feeling too lucky right now.”

You make a sound somewhere in the realm between a yelp and a cry of joy. You throw yourself on top of WinWin, wrapping your arms around him, burning your face into his neck even as he hugs you bone-crushingly tight and tucks his face into your hair. “So lucky. I was scared you were going to die.”

“You’re the lucky one, princess. Lucky I fucking love you so much,” WinWin groans into your hair. “I’ve almost died like three times just since waking up this morning. Don’t let go.” He squeezes tighter as if you were at all planning on letting go.

He groans when you press your hand to his belly, when you pinch at his barely healed, exposed thigh. “I didn’t ask you to almost die. Remember in the shower when you tried telling us that you were fine? This is exactly why I’m banning that word from our lexicon. You almost died, dumbass, you weren’t fine.” You lift your head to look down at him. WinWin grins.

You want to kiss that smug look right off his face. You would kiss him if it weren’t for the way that his breath definitely smelled like a horrible mix between vomit and the contents of the cure.

“Lovely as this is, daughter, I do have news.” Ira returns to sit in the seat at the head of the table. He folds his hands over his stomach. “Good news, bad news. A plan to go along with both. What would you like to hear?”

That makes you sit up, pulling WinWin up with you. Mark steps up, wrapping an arm around WinWin’s waist, helping pull him from the table into a chair while you stand there and stare at your father. He had news already? Good news and bad news?

“I still have contacts at the House,” he explains. “Naturally, with your concerns and with your happiness being based on the survival of your demons, I needed to connect with my resources there. I needed to inquire about what was happening in the wake of your departure, and with your demons’ trial. So, which would you like first? The good or the bad?”

WinWin groans as Mark gets him settled into a seat. You collapse into the one closest to your father, across from Renjun who is staring pale-faced at your father. WinWin reaches over to hold your hand, and you feel Mark’s presence as he stands firmly behind your chair. All four men in the room wait for you to speak, to make a decision.

Your stomach twists in tight knots. He says he has bad news, and you can’t even begin to imagine – you don’t want to imagine what horrors that bad news might contain, though your mind is only too ready to supply you with possible scenarios. As for good news, you truly can’t even imagine what good news he could possibly have. You absolutely can’t let your mind go there, can’t afford to hope only to have it taken away by the bad news. Which do you want first? Disappointment? Hope?

“Bad news. I want to hear the bad.” You figure it’s better to get it over with first, right?

Ira nods. Mark’s hands tighten on the back of your chair until the wood creaks under his touch. WinWin holds your fingers, his grip safe and warm, comforting.

“I suppose I should rephrase my question,” Ira says. “There’s news, more news, and some news that is both good and bad news.”

Your belly feels like it’s full of molten fire, ready to eat its way out of you at any second now. Can’t he just speak? Can’t he just say what he means instead of torturing you this way?

“Ira.” Mark growls. “Just tell us.”

The Watcher nods, holding your gaze as he says, “So, the trial for your demons has been canceled.”

Your heart plummets into that molten lava pool that was formerly your stomach. Canceled? Did the High Watcher decide that without you there to attend he would just find them automatically guilty even without the trial? You’ve known all along of course that he wasn’t likely to come to a verdict of not-guilty, but you thought he would at least give them the show of a trial. Some semblance of a justice system. Or maybe the High Watcher was doing this just to punish you, sending them right into the abyss to punish you for escaping.

“Don’t look like that, my dear,” your father says, leaning forward with a hand extending across the table to you. You just look at it, making no move to accept his offered hand, but he doesn’t bother withdrawing it. “That was just news. Neither good or bad, really.” It feels bad, but you keep that thought to yourself, awaiting his next words. “The trial was canceled because it seems that Renjun was right to get you out of there last night. It was a night, or well, I suppose it was morning actually, for people to go missing from right under the nose of the High Watcher. It seems, my dear, that your sneaky demons also somehow escaped last night.”

Your heart is consumed in the fire of your belly.

WinWin yelps a little as your flames burst from your skin, burning at his hand around yours. Mark springs back as well.

Your father grins, his eyes reflecting your flames.

“They escaped?” You say, your voice half-swallowed by the crackling of your flames. “What do you mean they escaped?”

Ira laughs. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I’ve never seen anyone break out of those cells down there. I truly didn’t think it was possible. Apparently, after my brothers realized that you three were escaping, accompanied by Renjun, the High Watcher felt it might be prudent to check on his prisoners. My sources say that the brothers who descended into the dungeon discovered the cells of the two demons were empty, the bars torn open and melted. There were no further signs of them. There’s no way they could have escaped out the front door of the dungeon, and there is no back door. They searched down into the very depths of the dungeon to see if they’d for some reason decided to hide deep in the bowels of the place, but... nothing!”

Your heart, it feels like it’s eating itself alive.

Ten and Yuta.

They escaped.

Renjun nods. “That must be what the Watchers I overheard were talking about, they just didn’t know it yet. Someone tripped alarms somewhere. Maybe that was them, maybe it was Ten and Yuta. Or whoever broke them out. There’s no way they could have done it alone. Being inside the cells nullifies powers, so they wouldn’t have had the strength to tear the bars apart or the ability to summon any amount of fire, definitely not a fire hot enough to melt those bars.” Renjun shakes his head, “So someone must have broken them out, but who?”

You turn from him to look again at Ira. He’s grinning, a mad gleam in his eye.

“Here’s the final news, daughter. The news both good and bad.”

Your skin goes cold, and you realize that your flames have faded again, that now Mark has his hands on your shoulders, and that WinWin is holding your hand again. Your entire body is tense, waiting for your father’s next words.

“I know who broke them out. I know exactly where your demons are, sweet child.”

“Spit it out!” You hiss, leaning forward as he just smiles, drawing out your anticipation. Steam rises from your skin, especially from where Mark’s icy hands rest on your boiling skin. “Tell me!”

“They’re right where they belong,” Ira says, eyes flickering around the room to touch on each of you. “Their Queen of the Night came for them, and she has taken them as her prisoners back to Hell.”

The fire that bursts forth from you right then is intense enough to send Mark speeding out the back door of the house for cover. WinWin ducks beneath the table, swearing, Renjun doing the same. Your father sits there, watching you blaze and rage, your fury at them being taken prisoner all over again by that damn Queen that you know they were tired of serving. But there’s relief and happiness mixed into all of that too. Relief that they’re alive, that they’re not facing the trial of the Watchers that would have undoubtedly resulted in them being lost into the abyss. There’s happiness because they’re alive! Even if they’re back in Hell, imprisoned by their Queen, they’re alive!

He watches and he waits for you to calm down, he waits for the flames to dull from bright blue and white fury to a glow of red and orange settling over your skin before it simmers and fades to smoke lingering in the air. Renjun and WinWin emerge from beneath the table, the surface of which is seared and scorched. Mark peers in around the doorframe, checking to make sure your inferno has actually calmed before he re-enters, giving you a wide berth as you’re still giving off quite a lot of heat. He edges around to the other side of the table, leaning back against the wall across from you, near the windows just in case he might need to make another sudden escape.

“Now,” your father says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Do you want to hear my plan?”

Steam spirals from your nose. “What?”

He grins. “You, my daughter, are half your mother and half me. Individually, we were powerful beyond comparison. Our powers together, in you, is something I have been dreaming of for a long time, the feats you can accomplish. The Queen of the Night is powerful and strong, but with a bit of training, setting you against her, she wouldn’t be able to hold you back. We can get your demons back, my dear, if you will let me teach you how.”

You don’t even have to consider it. Of course you will let Ira teach you. You want to know everything he has to teach you because if you’re going to get Yuta and Ten back, if you want to be reunited with them, you will do whatever it takes. You’d dreamt about them just that morning – though now you have your suspicions that that dream had somehow been reality, a last visit of theirs before they fully broke out of the House – and they’d told you to find them, Yuta’s promise that you would all come back to each other.

“Teach me everything,” you tell Ira, determination painting your voice in bold strokes.

You’re going to save Yuta and Ten, and anyone that stands in your way is going to burn.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: so a lot happened in this chapter! They escaped to safety without Renjun betraying them (he’s so trustworthy, guys! WinWin just has trust issues), and he brought them to the one person in the universe who has always wanted the best for Y/N: her dad, which I feel like no one has hardly mentioned at all. And then, of course, there’s that biggest bombshell that I’ve dropped there at the end -- they’re not facing trial anymore, they’re alive, they’re in Hell as prisoners again.

I may take a short break from posting Unholy after this chapter. Not a really long break, I promise! Just long enough to get my feet under me a bit as I work on the plot for the rest of Unholy, because as of right now, I don’t really know what happens next. Originally when I wrote this and “finished” it in December 2022, this chapter is where the story ended, though there were a few things that were a little bit different. So now I need to figure out what comes next, I need to write it, and I need to take a little time to work on a few other projects possibly that I’ve had brewing for a while.

So, as always, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and the entirety of Unholy so far. I hope that you’ll continue to stick around until I post the next installment of this series, and continue to show it as much love as you all have shown this first part of the series. Thank you so so so so much! This story has grown a whole lot from where it started when it was originally just supposed to be a kinktober monster-fucking drabble, but instead has become, to this point, around 197,000 words long, putting it around 60k under the word count of the poly series which took me almost 3 full years to write

Anyway, likes, comments, reblogs, sharing it with your friends/followers is forever and always appreciated and keeps me inspired to keep going! Thank you for reading!!

#nct fics #nct smut #mark smut #mark lee fics #winwin fics #winwin smut #unholy

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loveonhaechan · 2 years

Text

STUCK WITH YOU | MARK LEE

!best friend mark, comfort, sfw, kinda angst(?), mark being a amazing best friend.

1:00 AM

INCOMING PHONE CALL FROM “mark💌”

“y/n are you okay?” mark said in a concerned voice, “yeah I’m okay” you replied lying. “y/n i know you’re lying tell me the truth.” he said “okay okay it’s just stress from work and stuff.. yk” you replied “other stuff?” mark spoke

“yeah uhm my boyfriend dumped me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that” you replied. “oh my god y/n why didn’t you tell me” mark responded

“you don’t need to worry about it, im okay” you replied “no what the fuck your not I’m coming over and bringing ice cream! you’re not gonna be sad over some guy” mark said “no mark” and then he cut the call. you sighed saying “this guy..”

TIME SKIP !

1:55 AM

text from “mark💌”

open the door.

you ran to open your door and it was true. he came with ice cream. “mark you didn’t have to do this you know.. come in” you spoke “do what? I’m doing what a good best friend does” he replied with a smile on his face. you and mark both went to your room and then watched ur favourite movie.

and then he sang your favourite song and you guys cuddled and slept.

BY ADMIN XEN.

TAGS

#mark lee #mark lee fics #nct fics #nct dream fic #comfort #sfw #mark lee imagines #nct imagines #nct drabbles

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haetrack · 27 days

Text

no clue (l.mk)

mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 11.6k

summary: mark realizes how long it’s been since he’s gotten laid, immediately heading to a party. he’s quick to find you, rushing into a room without really thinking about it. except now, he can’t stop thinking about you. how bad is it really if he ends up falling in love with his one night stand?

warnings: strangers to lovers, smut (MDNI), fluff, mild angst, one night stand, miscommunication and communication, reader is cautious, oral (both receiving), missionary, desperation, dirty talk, dry humping, softdom!mark, sub!reader

heavily inspired by tongues - the frights

part two to the how it all goes series!

mark doesn’t think he’s a person who acts on instinct.

he believes he at least has some self control. he won’t go out if he knows he has work to finish, knows his limits, and has pretty good time management if you ask him. he can control himself whenever he needs to, but he has his off days. everyone does.

which is why he can’t really explain how he ended up between your thighs.

he can hear the squelch of his fingers in your cunt, his mouth wrapped around your clit as he moans into you. your hands are threaded into his hair, moaning out his name, still unfamiliar on your tongue. he’s never really jumped into something like this before, but he can’t say he doesn’t like it. he really can’t, thoughts filled with only how good you taste.

he can feel how your thighs shake around him, trying to close shut when his fingers reach your sweet spot. he pries your legs apart, moving his mouth away from you to whine out, “need you to stop moving so much, wanna keep tasting you.”

he makes eye contact with you as he licks a stripe up your cunt, watching how your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. out of the people that mark’s been with, he thinks that you might be the sweetest person he’s tasted. he wouldn’t mind being in between your thighs, wouldn’t mind hearing all your pretty moans.

your hands make it to his hair, threading through the strands as he eats you out. you tug on it when something feels particularly good. he grunts against you, mouth sucking on your clit as the stinging pain makes his blood pump a little faster. all that he can hear are the lewd sounds of your cunt, the moans of his name, and his own breathing. “m-mark, i’m close. please don’t stop, you’re doing so good.”

he can’t slow down now, adding a third finger as he licks at your clit. he watches as your back arches, suddenly too aware of his dick straining against his pants. he tugs you close to his face, “need you to cum. want you to cum all over me so i can fuck your pretty pussy.”

he watches you nod, your hips rolling to meet his face as you moan out his name, hands gripping onto his hair as you cum. he hears himself let out an embarrassing moan, affected by your sounds and taste. he doesn’t stop his ministrations, helping you ride out your orgasm.

if he could, he’d spend all day here, licking up your cum as you cry out his name. with a tired laugh, you push his head away, almost enjoying the sad look on his face. your hand moves to cup the side of his face, “you did so good, mark. you want me to help you?”

his eyes widen a little, almost as if he wasn’t expecting anything to happen. you sit up, hands moving to unbutton and unzip his pants. his hands hover over yours, shaking as he watches you. “y-you’ll… you’ll suck me off?”

you pull his pants down to his thigh, “well, you did say earlier that you wanted to fuck me so… would you like to fuck me?”

he blinks at you, “really?”

“of course,” you laugh, “i know how bad you want to, and i know i want it, too. probably even more than you.”

you watch him scramble off the bed, taking off his pants as quickly as possible. he leaves his boxers on, making it back between the space between your thighs. you watch him slowly take his boxers on, watch how his cock slaps against his stomach. he’s leaking, and you wonder how exactly he’s held back for so long.

he strokes his length a few times, enjoying how you squirm around in impatience. he thinks you look cute like this, the thought dancing around in his head. he can’t keep himself away from you for too long, shifting closer to you. he rubs his length across your slit, letting your slick coat his cock.

your breath hitches when his tip hits your clit, mark leaning down to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and you can feel how his hips continue to grind against your cunt. you can only take so much before you start begging, “mark, please. need you to fuck me already, need to feel you inside me already.”

he likes how pretty your voice sounds begging for him. it pushes him over the edge, moving to line himself at your entrance. he can feel how wet you are, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. he lets out a low groan as he pushes in, your tight walls taking all his thoughts away.

it’s been too long for him, fighting against himself as he goes as slowly as he can. he’s patient, even as your nails dig into his back. you’re letting out small whimpers, getting used to the stretch his cock offers you. he waits for you to get used to the feeling, even if his cock is twitching inside you.

when you tell him he can move, he experimentally thrusts against you. you feel too good, and he’s not sure how long he can last, especially with how long it’s been for him. at your whines, he tries setting a steady rhythm for you. his hips only stutter a bit when you clench around him, his eyes fluttering close.

you throw your head back when mark hits your sweet spot, and mark needs to hear all the pretty sounds you just made again. he grinds his hips as close as he can, eyes threatening to shut at how deep he feels inside you. his eyes watch where you two are connected, a thumb moving to your neglected clit.

one of your hands moves to grope at your own boob, rolling a nipple in between your fingers. mark needs to help you, he decides, quickly swatting your hand away as he moves his face to the valley of your chest. he takes a nipple into his mouth, hand rubbing over your other boob.

he’s all over you, every part of his body moving to make you cum. you lay there, practically sobbing at how good he’s making you feel. “keep going, mark! please don’t stop, need you so bad!”

your words make him dizzy, thrusts slowing to grind into you. he can feel how your slick has coated his thighs, how messy this all is. he doesn’t care, not when he gets to see you like this under him. you’re crying out for him, tears pricking at your eyes from how good he’s making you feel. he wouldn’t mind getting to see this everyday.

the thought quickly leaves him when you tell him you’re about to cum. your nails scrape along his back, surely leaving marks for him to see tomorrow. you’re clenching around him tightly, his hips fighting to keep moving. most importantly, you’re calling out his name so sweetly, almost as if he’s the only thing you can think of.

“y-yeah, you’re gonna cum all over my cock?” he stutters, “gonna make a mess all over me?”

“yes, please, mark, please keep going!”

it doesn’t take long for you to cum. he’s doing everything right, hitting every spot he could reach. you let go, a loud whimper leaving you as you roll your hips against him. he’s gripping onto your thighs, leaving bruises against your skin. you’re happy that you said yes to him, happy that you could have probably one of the best orgasms of your life.

mark cums soon after you, the image of you too much for him to handle. he groans out a fuck, enjoying the warmth of your pussy before pulling out. he jerks himself off quickly, noting how your bleary eyes watch him. he cums all over your pussy, watches how it drips down near your clenching hole.

he’s breathing heavily at the sight, hears your tired cry as you lay against the pillow of the bed. he’s not sure if he should go get something to clean you up or if he should just stay here with you. he’s sure he doesn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying the look of you so fucked out because of him.

not because he thinks you look pretty, even more so like this.

his thoughts are cut off by the way you call his name. there’s a smile on your face, and despite being tired, you tug at his arm to bring him down by you. he faces you, a pretty blush on his face. he never really knows how to end these kinds of things, not that he really has experience to think about.

it doesn’t feel awkward, but mark can’t stop thinking of too many things at once. he can’t just leave you like this, but wouldn’t it be weird to sleep next to you? you aren’t exactly a stranger, but he can’t call you a friend, or even an acquaintance. he barely knows you, knows your name and maybe one class you're taking. his mind itches to know more.

your hand brushes the stray hairs out of his face, and he realizes how much he likes the feeling. your hand twitches at your side, slowly reaching out to him to make him wrap an arm around your waist. it’s quiet when this happens, mark trying to decide whether he should say something or not.

you beat him to it, “you did so good. i’m glad i got to do this with you, mark.”

he’s silent for a few seconds, fingers moving up and down at your side, “i’m happy, too- i mean, like, doing this with you.”

you hum out, letting the conversation fade out as you snuggle into the sheets. you don’t mind that his arm is still wrapped around you as you try to sleep. you try not to pay attention to the satisfied sigh he lets out once he settles into the sheets. you’re not sure if you’ll see him again, and even if you do, you know you probably won’t be talking to him.

either way, you’ll be gone by the morning.

mark can recall everything he did last night once he wakes up. it all flashes in his head before he’s fully conscious.

he remembers walking up to you, probably too confident as he flirts with you. he remembers your smiling face as you lead him into an empty room, locking the door behind you as he presses you against the wall. he remembers how soft your lips were against his, how sweet you tasted, and how nice you felt wrapped around him.

most importantly, he remembers how good it felt to sleep next to you, how nice it felt to have you wrapped in his arms. but now, as he fights off sleep, he sees you’re not there next to him. he shouldn’t be surprised, it was only supposed to be a one time thing. but he can’t help how cold it feels in this bed that isn’t even his.

for just last night, this room was something that was shared between the two of you. now, it’s just a random room that he woke up alone in. well, he shouldn’t be too alone here knowing haechan is probably crashed out at this now quiet frat house. he gathers his clothes that are scattered across the room, slipping them back on.

they feel different now, suddenly too dressy for the morning. the door's unlocked when he gets to it, quietly opening it as he peers out into the hallway. there’s no one there, mark tiptoeing down the stairs as he looks around for haechan. as expected, he’s sleeping almost too peacefully on a stranger's couch. there’s other people there too, but mark can’t help but laugh at the sight of his friend.

he doesn’t bother being gentle with haechan, quickly shaking his shoulder to wake him up. haechan groans, and mark contemplates if he should just throw water on him. as if haechan could hear his thoughts, he shoots straight up, gasping for air like he just got revived from being dead. he looks at mark with wide eyes, practically gasping for air.

“are you alright, dude?”

“i’m… fine? i had the craziest nightmare that i was about to go down a waterfall.”

“how is that even-” mark just sighs, deciding not to question him, “let’s go already. let’s leave these poor people alone.”

haechan stumbles a bit when he gets up, dramatically letting himself cling onto mark’s shoulders. they walk about the house as if nothing happened, as if mark didn’t meet you in there. he drags out haechan, noticing how he’s staying surprisingly silent. mark doesn’t mind walking back to campus, not minding how pretty the blue sky above him looks.

suddenly, haechan says, “are you hungry?”

mark mulls on it before speaking, “i guess i could eat. you won’t get, like, sick or anything?”

“no,” haechan hums, “i’m actually feeling pretty good right now. i do wanna ask how you feel.” haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at mark, causing mark to pull away from haechan, almost letting him fall to the ground.

“you are so weird.”

haechan laughs at that, “you’re acting like you won’t tell me all about it once we start eating.”

mark doesn’t deny it, trying to change the subject, “you’re paying, right?”

“no way! i took you to that party, you owe me!”

mark ends up begrudgingly paying for both their meals. he probably would’ve paid either way, he thinks as he watches haechan gulf down his food. mark is slower, taking a few bites as he picks at his food. he can’t stop thinking about what you might be doing, can’t stop thinking about the fact that you’re still lingering in his mind.

without realizing, mark asks, “how bad is it if i’m still thinking about who i slept with last night?”

haechan looks up at him, his cheeks full with food. he takes his time to contemplate mark's words, chewing slowly on his food before speaking. he clears his throat, “well, what exactly are you thinking about? like, sexually, or…” he whispers at the end of his sentence, “romantically?”

mark feels embarrassed when he realizes it’s both. he could just lie and say it was the first option, but he can’t bring himself to.

haechan doesn’t need to hear mark say his answer when he can see mark become more and more red. he knows mark is more of a relationship kind of guy, but really? he points his fork at mark, and in the nicest way possible, he questions him, “well, how much do you know about her?”

mark has to think about his answer. he’s never really seen you on campus or at any of the parties he’s been to. he knows your name… and how you look. turns out he doesn’t really know too much about you, but it feels more than that to mark. mark huffs out an answer, “not a lot, actually. but i do want to get to know her more! i feel like, like we really could’ve hit it off if it were any other time…”

“are you sure you’re not in love with her pussy or something?”

mark quickly shushes haechan, “why would you say that out loud where anyone could hear us?”

haechan brushes off his words, “it’s just… what if that was supposed to be the only time that you guys were meant to be together. you can’t just force someone to talk to you.”

“but-”

“nope. one, you don’t know her that well. two, if you do ever talk to her, given if she even wants to talk to you, what are you gonna say?”

“you know,” mark starts, really trying to come up with anything, “ask how she’s been?”

haechan threatens to throw his crumbled napkin at mark.

mark stares at his half eaten plate, not really knowing what else to say. he’s never seen you before, and last night was quite literally the first time he’s ever seen you. he’s not sure how he hasn’t before, not when you were so easy to pick out of a room full of people. maybe haechan is right, if he really wanted to know you, he should’ve already tried before.

he'll convince himself it was just a one time thing.

when mark came up to you at the party, it was the second time you had ever seen him.

he still looked the same as how he did when you first saw him during your freshman year. he still looks a bit boyish, but somehow obviously more grown up. you saw him slowly walk up to you after apparently getting a pep talk from a friend. you had quickly pieced together who the two were, and how exactly you remembered them.

it was one of your first weeks of college. you were hanging out with a friend, quietly talking outside the room that your class was about to be held in. you didn’t want to be late, but you also didn’t want to be the first person walking in there. that was embarrassing, but it was also embarrassing just standing out here like you wouldn’t be entering in a few minutes.

you and your friend were sharing hushed whispers to one another, probably talking about an upcoming assignment you really didn’t want to do. you watch your friend pull out her phone to mindlessly scroll before class starts. you were about to do the same when you heard loud voices quickly pass through the hall.

the voices are too loud for the quiet hall, cringing lightly before you hear thundering footsteps coming your way. in a flash, you see a guy dragging another guy down the hall with him. you hear stop pulling so hard! and a hurry up! as they pass by you. you make eye contact with the one being dragged, his eyes looking apologetic for how loud they’re being.

as soon as they arrive, they’re fast to go. you hear your friend laugh next to you while you just shake your head in disapproval. you click your tongue before talking, “we’re in college and there’s men still acting like children.”

she giggles at your words, “i think they might just be like that.”

“do you know them?”

“not really, no. i just know their names. the guy who was doing the dragging is always loud like that. i guess the other guy gets caught up in it.”

you nod at her words. you hear the elevator doors open and you wonder if the two entered in together, praying the ride would be fast to whatever event they were late to. you let out a sigh, “the one being dragged looked at me like he was sorry.”

when she laughs, she bumps into your side, “i think his name is mark. i’m pretty sure they’re roommates.”

with a frown, you add, “i hope they’re late to wherever they’re going,” your friend laughs at this, “people are starting to get in class, let’s go.”

now, the second time you meet mark, it feels like you’re being properly introduced. he comes up to you, only slightly faltering when you look at him with a smile on your face. you wonder if he remembers you all those years ago, wonders if he remembers feeling sorry for you. he probably doesn’t with the way he tries flirting with you.

it’s not like you don’t expect it, knowing he had to go through a whole pep talk before this, but you still feel surprised. he doesn’t look like someone who would be this forward, but you can’t say you didn’t like it.

he asks for your name (proving he really doesn’t know you), and asks how the party is going for you. cocking your head slightly, you answer his questions, noticing how his eyes dart down to your lips occasionally. it doesn’t take long for you both to head up to a room together, full of giggles and laughs.

you didn’t realize how much you would be into this, into him. he was desperate, hands all over you as he groaned into your mouth. you thought you would have to beg him to eat you out, but he was the one practically whining out to have a taste of you. it’s even better once he starts fucking you, taking care of every single need of yours before his own.

it’s over faster than you want it to be. he looks a little panicked afterwards, confused on what exactly he should do. you wonder how often he does this, if he even does this at all. you brush it off by asking him to come lay down by you. he presumably pushes all his worries away to lay behind you, arm tentatively wrapping around your side.

you wonder if you pushed it too far by asking him to sleep with you like this. you both could’ve left the room together, parted ways for the night, and probably never see each other again. it makes you think if this was all he wanted with you. sex. it’s not that you were hoping for more, but mark seems like a nice guy.

you have a quick conversation, thanking him for tonight. it feels too formal, almost as if you were ending a date. this is mark, someone you don’t know well and have never talked to. you don’t know why you push the hairs out of his face or why you let him wrap his arm around you. you should keep distance between you two, but you don’t.

it’s hard to explain what you really want right now, but all you can do is fall asleep in his hold.

you wake up earlier than mark, watching his chest rise and fall.

you find yourself cuddled into his side, using his arm like a pillow. you get up quietly to not disturb him, picking up your clothes from the night before. you hate staying at a random person’s place, but what else can you do in a situation like this. you find your phone, looking at your friends messages saying how she’s back at your shared apartment.

you send her a quick text that you’re heading back soon. you wonder what she’d say about all this, wonder if she remembers your encounter with mark from all those years ago. you take one last look at mark, sleeping peacefully on the bed, unknowing that you’re about to leave him there by himself.

you ponder on leaving your phone number for a few moments. nothing bad could come from it, but you don’t know if he would even want to see you after this. you bite your lip as you unlock the door, slipping out into the quiet frat house. you spot his friend passed out on a couch, a few others sleeping on the floor or other seats.

you debate on walking back to your apartment, but you’re sore everywhere. you mentally curse out mark as you try to find an uber, wincing when you look at the prices. you try to convince yourself that it's better than walking, better than waiting for the bus, and better than having to hear everyone else talk.

once your ride arrives, you're quick to hop in. it’s quiet for the most part, the radio playing a song you’re not too familiar with. you mull over every decision you've made within the past twelve hours, and as much as you want to regret every single one, you can’t. it was a good night, you met a good person, and you got good sex out of it. what’s there to complain about?

you can’t help but wonder how mark feels.

a few days pass, nothing really exciting happens.

you have class, you go to your job, and with the free time you have, you study or hangout with your friends. today’s a day where you've been out for a while, your friends dragging you out of your apartment and away from all the stress of a job and studying. even though you complain, they’re quick to see the smile on your face once you’re actually out.

there’s few times where you hang out at the campus. after your freshman year, you stayed close to the areas around your apartment. the campus felt too far and suddenly felt like it was only there for business. but your friends insist on eating on the quad. it’s a nice day, and you can’t really say no to eating outside with warm weather and friends around you.

you don’t know what possesses you to look over your shoulder, but you do. you regret it immediately, noticing mark walking down a sidewalk to wherever he’s going. you’re not sure why you stare for so long, it’s not like you want to know where he’s going or who he could be meeting with. he does look nice when he’s dressed casually, though.

you realize you might’ve stared for too long once you see him turn back at you. it’s quick, but he does a double take, realizing it’s you that’s staring at him. you quickly whip your head back to your friends, internally panicking on what you should do. you have about twenty seconds to decide if he does come over.

this would be your first time seeing mark after the party, probably your second time seeing mark on campus at all. does he even want to say hi? and what will your friends think? they’ll wonder why you’re trying so hard to ignore the man that is currently walking towards you. you don’t really want to talk about it just yet.

you realize you might have to when you hear mark call out your name. you take a deep breath, slowly turning around to give him a small wave. you can feel the gazes of your friends fall onto you without even having to look at them. there’s a soft smile on his face, hands wrapping around his backpack straps as he gets closer.

“uh, hey, how are you?” he asks a little awkwardly

“i’m doing fine? how are you?” you can hear your friends whisper behind you as you feel the back of your neck go hot.

“i’ve doing fine, i’ve just… been thinking about you. you kinda just, like, left that morning.”

you sigh, fingers moving to play with the grass under you. is he really thinking about that night? does he expect you to want to do it again? you shrug, “yeah, i didn’t really know what else to do. i didn’t want to stay there all by myself.”

“oh, sorry. i could’ve… walked out with you- i mean, if you had asked.”

“no, it’s okay. i know your friend was still there.”

he nods, “yeah, i know. but, um, if you’re not busy soon, then can we hang out? just us two?”

you’re a little shocked that he can just ask that so casually. it’s like you’ve both been friends for so long, as if it was always normal for him to ask the girls he meets up with to hang out. in another world, you would probably say yes to him, but you can’t think of a good reason to tell him yes. “mark,” you start, “i’ll be busy this whole week so… i’m not sure if i’ll be able to.”

he takes a few moments to take in your words. he stares at you before finally staring at the floor. he nods slowly, offering you an apologetic smile before speaking, “that’s fine, i just wanted to see-” he takes a breath, “wanted to see what you would say.”

you let out a small sorry, and he takes it as a sign that it’s time for him to go. he takes a few steps back, watching as you give him an apologetic look. “i’ll, uh, maybe see you again? soon? i mean, like, if you ever want to.”

you feel a little awkward as you try to avoid any more eye contact with him. “yeah. i’ll see you, mark.”

he takes a few more steps back before fully turning around. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he spares you a few more glances. he looks a little disappointed, but he doesn’t try to force you into what you don’t want to do. that’s a good thing about him, you think.

you let out a heavy exhale, now fully facing your friends. when you notice the silence among the group, you look up. everyone is staring at you with smiles on their faces, their faces practically begging for you to say something. you bite back a laugh as you try to ignore it, but one of them speaks up, “what even was that?”

you huff, “just… someone i met the other night.”

if you ever meet mark lee again after this, you might just have to curse him out for having to awkwardly explain to your friends what just happened.

it’s another day when you're back on campus.

there’s no friends this time around, no way for you to relax. you have a class today, getting upset with your past-self for thinking you could wake up this early for a class. you usually try to grab a quick snack beforehand to keep yourself awake. you make your way to your campus’s coffee shop. it might be 50/50 on whether it’s good or not, but it’s closer than anything else.

you think you deserve a sweet treat, a chocolate muffin that would probably cure every single thing that’s happened to you these past weeks (that also somehow all lead back to mark lee). you don’t really expect anything but a long line of other students waiting to order, but there you see the man himself, mark lee, sitting at a bench.

you’ve learned your lesson from last time, quickly moving out of his sight and choosing not to stare at him. you make your way to the line, trying hard to ignore him. your eyes subconsciously move to look at the side of his face. he’s wearing glasses, hanging low on his nose as he scrolls through his phone.

you wonder if he’s waiting for his friend or if he’s just waiting for his class to start. there’s an impulse to walk over to him and make conversation, smiling as you ask about his morning. you’d be willing to be a bit late to your class if it meant to talk to him more. you’re just not sure he’d feel the same way.

you watch as he looks up from his phone, rolling his head around to stretch. before he can catch you staring you look away, straight ahead to the menu in front of you. you have to wonder if you’re making this hard for yourself on purpose. you don’t have to think about him so much, especially if he might not even be thinking about you.

well, he’s thinking about you, but probably not in the way you’re thinking about him. it makes you sad, you could’ve at least been friends with him. even now, as you stare at him a few feet away, you could easily eat your snack with him. you could laugh at how nervous he gets, could get him to warm up to you as he gets more comfortable.

but you don’t.

you pay for your muffin, wait for it to be handed to you, and take a whole separate route to your class. before you walk out of the building, you take one last look at him, watching how he stares off into the distance. you don’t want him to see you, quickly walking off away from him.

what you miss is mark staring at you as you walk away. there’s a small smile on his face, seeing you rush off. he doesn’t care that this is the second time he’s seen you, doesn’t care that you don’t even notice him. he likes seeing you like this, so different than how you presented yourself at the party, not that it’s a bad thing.

he wishes that he could go up and talk to you, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. when he walked back to his apartment after the day he saw you with your friends, he decided that you probably weren’t interested. as much as he wants to talk to you, it’s better to give you your space. he just wishes he never ruined his chances with you.

he checks the time on his phone, wondering how haechan could be so late. before he can pull up his messages with haechan, he shows up. there’s a lazy smile on his face as he walks down the hall. mark rolls his eyes as haechan gets closer. haechan only chuckles, slugging an arm around mark’s shoulder. mark is quick to take it off, earning a quick whine from haechan.

wordlessly, they start moving to their shared class. mark doesn’t bother to ask haechan how he’s doing, clearly having a nice morning if he decided to show up so late. haechan laughs when he sees mark so annoyed, patting his shoulder before he speaks, “i have good news, you’ll never guess who i saw.”

mark hums disinterestedly, knowing it was probably someone he saw doing something crazy at a party.

“i saw your girl walking by just now.”

mark's head snaps towards his friend, haechan laughing at how wide mark’s eyes are. haechan picks up his pace, “that’s not even the best part. i said hi. and she knew who i was.”

mark furrows his eyebrows, “why would you do that? did she… did she say anything else?”

“i just asked if she had any plans, but she just shrugged and said she was probably gonna go out this weekend with her friends.”

mark smacks his lips as they near their building. he pushes the door open, air slapping against his face as they step in. he lets out an exasperated sound, “well, do you know, like, where she’s going?”

haechan coos at mark, “you’re so sweet, such a sweet boy. she didn’t say, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to find out, right?”

mark is deep in thought. if he did find you, and that’s if he really tried, would you even want to talk to him? he’s not sure if you want that kind of thing with him, but he wonders if he can still try. if you brush him off, then he realizes that’s probably it. he could respect your opinion, as long as you tell him what you want.

before they enter their class, mark stares at haechan, “right, there’s no harm in trying.”

mark feels nervous tonight.

it doesn’t feel like the last time he went to a party, more confident and driven. now, he has a goal in his mind: to find you. he thinks it’s funny how nervous he’s being, it’s not even guaranteed that he’d see you again, not guaranteed that you would want to talk to him. if it doesn’t end up working out, he’ll just use tonight as a de-stressor, forcing all thoughts of you away.

haechan helps get his mind off of things on the way there. he doesn’t bring you up, chooses to talk about other mundane stuff. it would help more if mark didn’t know that haechan was just trying to distract him. it does make him realize how good of a friend he’s been through all of this.

when they get close to the place, haechan has to stop himself from laughing at how nervous mark looks, “you know she might not even be in there, right? it’s literally a saturday night, she could be anywhere.”

mark lets out the breath he’s been holding, “yeah, i guess.”

“do whatever you want tonight,” haechan huffs, “this is about you.”

with that, they enter the house. it’s a lot smaller than the frat, people all around mark as he enters. mark tries to scan the room, but can’t quite seem to catch you. you’re easy to spot, so that tells mark that you might not be here. before he can think about it more, haechan drags him off so he can get a drink.

haechan offers him some, but mark declines. if he does see you, he doesn’t want to mess it up by being potentially drunk. he tries to look around the room again from this angle, but he still can’t find you. it was bound to happen.

he’s about to give up when he notices a group of people move out of their spot, and there you are.

he knows you're there talking to a friend, but he can only see you. you remind him of how he first met you at the other party. he wants to walk over, wants to say hi, wants to talk to you. he forgets that haechan is there, beginning to take a few steps towards you.

he’s quickly stopped by haechan tugging on his arm, a certain look on his face, “are you really doing this?”

“i need to talk to her. even if she tells me to go away, i just- i need to hear it from her.”

haechan lets go of his arm, realizing that this is something that mark is serious about. “i don’t want to stop you. i’ll be here if you end up getting heartbroken,” haechan jokes.

mark just smiles, nodding before he walks away from him. he stops his hands from shaking as he gets closer. you’re turned away from him, and he doesn’t really know what else to do than tap your shoulder. you jump a little before turning around, your eyes wide as you realize it’s mark. he can’t help but notice your eyes soften a little when you see it’s just him.

“hey, uh, i didn’t expect to see you here.” he says to you.

a faint smile forms on your face, “i can’t say i’m too surprised to see you.”

he lets out an embarrassed laugh, smiling to himself when he sees you laugh too. looking behind you, he sees your friend smiling at the two of you. you turn back to your friend, a wordless exchange happening in front of mark.

your friend puts her hands up in defeat, looking at mark with a wry smile, “i just got a text from our friend saying she needs help. i guess i have to leave you two alone now!”

mark gives your friend a wave as she says bye to the both of you. she rushes off to another part of the house, mark not missing the mischievous look on her face. now that it’s the two of you alone, shy and awkward smiles exchanged between the two of you. no one really knows what to say or how to start.

“how have you been-”

“it’s been a while-”

you both talk over each other. you stare at each other with wide eyes, quickly laughing to yourselves. mark thinks he should be embarrassed by this, but he takes in how pretty you look while you laugh. he would embarrass himself for hours if it meant to see you smile.

the laughs subside and mark tries to quickly come up with something to say. there’s so many people around, the music is too loud, and you feel far from him. before he can say anything, you beat it to him, “do you wanna go somewhere more quiet?”

he can’t help but hear the subtle undertone of your words, a double meaning hidden behind them. he nods slowly, watching you grab his arm, just like the other night. he gets dragged through the crowd, weaving through all the people, his eyes remain on your back. your touch is warm, and mark likes having your hand on him.

there’s not a lot of options for a “quiet place” in the house. most of the rooms are locked, and the ones that are open have people openly having sex with an unlocked door. mark grimaces at the sight while you laugh at his face. you opt for a restroom, tilting your head at mark, asking if he’s okay with it. he walks in before you, scanning the room and letting you in.

he watches you lock the door, hopping onto the sink counter as you stare at him. he wants to talk to you, he really does, but you staring at his lips makes it quite hard for him. he takes a step closer to you, your hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him flush against the counter. you’re so close to him, and he can feel his heart racing as he recalls his last meeting with you.

he licks his lips, his cheeks hot, eyes wandering all across your face. you chuckle at him, smiling as you say, “can i kiss you, mark?”

he doesn’t even answer you, pressing his lips against yours without hesitation. as much as he wanted to hold back, he seems to lose all control when it comes to you. he can’t pretend like you didn’t come out in his dreams every single night while also consuming his thoughts in the day. his hands hold your cheeks, almost checking if you’re really there with him.

the kisses are slow, getting used to each other once more. one if his hands slides down to your waist, squeezing at the skin. his tongue licks at your bottom lip, relishing in the small moan you let out. he licks into your mouth, his hand sliding under your shirt. you press your hips close to his, feeling how he’s growing hard in his pants just from kissing.

you can’t help but let your hips roll against his, slow and teasing as he lets out a low groan into your mouth. you’re just as needy as he is, always admiring him from afar now that you see him more on campus. it’s weird how the universe works, bringing him to you when all you wanted to do was try to ignore him.

you can feel yourself getting wet, mark grinding into you as he lets out soft pants into your mouth. you take it all in, finally getting what you wanted. you could try to get rid of all the thoughts that you have about him, but it’s hard when he’s… mark lee.

you can feel yourself becoming more needy, embarrassingly so. mark looks the same, his cheeks pink as he lets out soft grunts of your name. when you start kissing down his jawline, he suddenly pulls his upper half away from you. shock paints your face, and he’s quick to explain himself, “i just- i wanted to, uh-”

“can you cum like this? it’s okay if you do mark, i think it’s cute.”

he whines out, “no! well, yeah, i can, but i wanted to-”

“really, mark. don’t worry, i’ll let you eat me out afterwards.”

he’s quickly losing the battle, his mouth slowly inching towards you again. his hips buck up at the mention of getting to eat you out, memories of your taste on his tongue playing in his mind. he almost gives up, but he’s determined. he slowly peels himself from you, hooded eyes and a flushed face looking straight at you.

“i, uh, i wanted to talk. i mean, like, talk about… i guess, us?”

you catch your breath, squeezing your legs together as you try to calm yourself down, “is there an us? we’ve only met up once, and it was for sex.”

“that’s true, but i…” he trails off a bit, putting his words together, “i want to talk to you more. i want to get to know you, because i really liked being with you the other time.”

you try to hold back any butterflies from forming at his words. as much as you want to give in, you have to be careful, “but wasn’t it just sex? i thought that’s all you wanted from me.”

his hand moves to your thigh, his thumb smoothing over your skin, “that’s true, but i didn’t expect to like it- like you so much. and i don’t expect you to think the same thing, but i just… had to tell you.”

you choose to stare at his hand on your thigh instead of his face. it’s easier to avoid how his eyes shine thinking about his feelings for you. it’s not like it wasn’t obvious, especially after your friends saw him the other day. you bite the inside of your cheek, “you like me? even though you don’t know me, even if we’ve met only once?”

“that’s why i want to get to know you. i want to know what you like and dislike. i want to know what your favorite songs are, want to know what you do when you’re free. i want to be there to learn it all.”

his words feel heavy, and you can feel your own feelings bubbling in your throat. what about you was so interesting for him? did he have a reason to find you pretty under him? what did you do for him to have such strong feelings so fast?

you speak slowly, “are you sure? i- i brushed you off the other day. another day i chose not to talk to you even though i saw you. am i really someone you want to talk to?”

mark smiles at your words, there’s no faltering on his end, “it’s my fault for not telling you what i wanted. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, either. if you didn’t want to talk to me, i didn’t want to force you to.”

your mouth opens and closes, not really knowing what else to say. you can tell he’s been thinking about this, been taking your feelings into consideration. if it were any other guy, they wouldn’t care about you, only thinking with their dicks as they talk to you. it puts you at ease knowing that mark is being genuine about it all.

“that’s why i wanted to talk to you tonight. i really had no intention of doing all this-” he makes a gesture between you two, “-with you, even if i really really wanted to. i was prepared for everything.”

you laugh at him, letting out the breath you’ve been holding, “i also want to say sorry. i didn’t mean to be so… mean. i wanted to talk to you, too. i just thought that you only wanted a one time thing, or that you just wanted sex.”

his hand reaches for yours, and you don’t try to brush it off. you don’t quite grab his hand just yet, but you let him hold on. he stares at you gently, “i’m sorry if i made you feel that way.”

you shake your head, “it’s not your fault, i was just thinking too much.”

the two of you sit in silence for a couple of moments. you can hear the loud music bouncing through the thin walls. you can hear people shouting over the music, loud laughs echoing down the halls. even through all the noise, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. this is your space with him, and you like how it feels.

after a few more beats of silence, he speaks up, “can i… can i take you out sometime? like, i mean, like, take you out on a date? that isn’t a party? just… wherever you want?”

you let out a small laugh at his nervous, jumbled words. his cheeks turn pink at the sound, head falling to your shoulder as he groans in embarrassment. you hope he can’t hear your thumping heart as you answer him, “i would like that. i want to go on a date with you, mark.”

you can feel him smile against the skin of your shoulder. he whispers out a thank you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. you wrap your arms behind his back, pulling him close as you hum, “do you think we should get out of here?”

he moves to look at you, “definitely.”

you’re unexpectedly nervous for today.

after the party, you and mark exchanged numbers before you both went separate ways for the night. you never expected to see him, never expected to not have sex with him, and never expected to even give him your phone number. now, as you stare at the shared messages from the previous days, you realize how much you kept yourself away from him.

it almost felt too easy for you to fall for him. you tried to hold back, but the care he holds for you gets to your heart. you don’t mind, knowing that he’s felt like this just as long as you had, no restraint shown in how he takes your feelings seriously. a few weeks ago, you could’ve never felt nervous about what might happen today.

it’s nothing serious, mark even saying that it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. like he said before, he just wants to get to know you as a person. the thought makes you shake out a breath, trying to take it just as easy as him.

you mull over your clothing options, wondering what exactly you should wear for a casual hangout. he probably won’t care as much as you think he would, but you don’t want to seem too prepared or too lax. you’re overthinking it again. it’s just mark. it should be easy with him, he’s interested in you, not the you you try to put on.

you grab whatever feels fitting for the day. you look back at your phone, seeing mark’s text saying he’s ready when you are. you’re quick to type out that you’re about to start heading over. it’s just a coffee shop, you think. you try not to put too much meaning into it yet.

it’s not too far from you, a fifteen minute bus ride to the place. throughout the ride, you try to drown out your nervous thoughts with your favorite playlist. it seems the universe is against you when all it plays are the love songs in your playlist. too coincidental.

you get there before him. it looks like a nice, quiet spot. mark says he’s been going here for quite some time, one of his favorite spots to talk to his friends or study. you can’t help but wonder if it’s true or if he’s lying to impress you. you figure today is the best day to find that out.

you wait for him to arrive. you refrain from texting him, deciding to just wait it out. you don’t want to seem too worried just yet, he could just be running late. thoughts of him standing you up enter your mind. you have to laugh at the thought, realizing that mark doesn’t seem to be someone to do that. you don’t know him well yet, but you’re sure he isn’t that evil.

as if to prove your point, you hear someone calling your name. turning to the direction of the voice, you're greeted with mark lee walking towards you. there’s a bright smile on his face, an arm waving at you. you smile and wave back. as he gets closer, he looks over you, a shy smile on his face as he scans over your outfit. you get just embarrassed as him, looking away from his heavy stare.

“should we go inside?” you ask.

he’s quick to agree, opening the door for you. when you enter, you’re hit with the strong smell of coffee. there’s a few others inside, chatting away or typing on their laptops with their own drinks. you scan over the lengthy menu, opting to choose something lighter for today.

mark chooses the same thing as you, and you laugh at him. he says he doesn’t like coffee and wonders why you chose what you chose. he might be thinking too much into it, but you think it’s cute. you try to order separately, but he practically begs to pay for your drink. you give in, you can’t just say no to a free drink.

it’s a bit awkward when you both wait for your drinks. you can see him roll on his heels as he waits, can see how he tries to pick out what he wants to say. as you try to come up with every possible response, he speaks, “how was your day?”

you let out a small chuckle at his question, “good, actually. i spent most of my time thinking about right now, even i kinda surprised myself.”

he smiles at your admittance, “yeah? i did, too. i was nervous, that maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

“i can’t believe that i’m making you feel like that,” you let out an apologetic laugh, “trust me, i’ll be asking to hang out with you a lot now.”

before mark can say anything, your drinks are set out. you both thank the barista, and you start to move to one of the empty booths. before you can, mark catches onto your arm, “can we actually, uh, sit outside? the sky looks really pretty right now, i think it would be cool to sit outside.”

you smile, quickly nodding at his words. once again, he holds open the door for you, sliding out and looking at the small tables set outside. he was right, the sky is really pretty today. he lets you choose a spot, and you choose towards the corner where no one can bother the two of you.

he’s quick to speak up again, “i really like this place. i found it a while ago while walking around with my friend one day.”

“was it with haechan?”

mark cocks his head a little, “you know him?”

“other than his name and him being your friend, not really. he introduced himself to me one time, though.”

he laughs at that, “good to know. he doesn’t really like coming to places like this, so i would just come here by myself. i even considered asking if they were hiring.”

“and? did you?”

“i didn’t. i would be crushed if they rejected me and i wouldn’t be able to show my face there ever again.”

you choke on your drink at his words, a laugh trying to escape as you let out coughs. mark is quick to pat your back, laughing while trying to calm down your coughing fit. as your throat clears, the coughs fade into laughs, mark joining you as he apologizes, “sorry for being too funny.”

you jokingly glare at him, “you owe me, mark lee.”

silence washes over the two of you again. this time, it’s more comfortable. the drink is good, mark’s company feels good, and you’re happy you came today. you watch as he takes out his phone, quickly snapping a shot of the bright blue sky. it seems practiced, something he always does. you can’t help but ask, “what about the sky makes you like it so much?”

he shrugs, “i just think it’s pretty. it’s not going anywhere, and it’s nice to take a break from it all and look up at the sky.”

“i’ve never really thought about it that way. i don’t really take the time to just stare at it.”

he hums at your words, “it’s nice to look and think about all the pretty things in the world.”

you try to ignore how he stares at you while he says that, quickly breaking eye contact with him. there’s a shy, but proud smile on his face. you chuckle, “you’re too cool for me, mark.”

“one day you’ll be as cool as me. just know that i’ll send you pictures of sunsets or the moon, or literally just, like, anything. anything that reminds me of you.”

he lists the things that he just told you he finds pretty, indirectly implying that all the pretty things remind him of you. your heart beats a little harder, quickly taking a sip of your drink to try to ignore it. you try to come up with anything else to get rid of the rush growing inside you, “you know, i actually had seen you once before.”

his head quickly turns to you, “really? when?”

“it was during freshman year, i saw you getting dragged down a hallway.”

mark racks through all his memories, pinpointing when exactly that could’ve happened. you watch the realization dawn on his face, quickly shoving his face into his hands in embarrassment. you shake his shoulder a bit, laughing when he makes a humiliated sound. you question him further, “where were you guys even going?”

after ruffling his own hair a bit, his head slowly lifts up to get a quick look at you. his face is red, hands fidgeting in shame. you wonder what could possibly be so bad. he speaks up when he starts to see you get worried a bit, “it wasn’t even anything crazy, he was just trying to take me to an event with free food in it.”

you can’t stop yourself from laughing, placing your hand on his arm to stable yourself. you decide not to think too hard when his other hand lays on top of yours, thumb smoothing over your skin. it feels like it should always be there, his warm palm calming down your nerves. it should always be this easy.

“if it was just that, then why are you so embarrassed?” you ask, laugh airy.

“i know, but i could’ve skipped free pizza and instead talked to you! it’s not fair you’ve known me longer than i’ve known you. maybe we could’ve… we would’ve…” he doesn’t finish the end of his sentence, but you can assume what he’s trying to say.

“two poor freshmen students couldn’t help themselves to free pizza. i can’t blame you, honestly.”

he squeezes your hand and takes a breath before speaking, “you’ll go with me to get free pizza next time? you’re, like, officially invited to the next free pizza event.”

you chuckle, “would very much prefer you to take me out to an actual pizza place, thank you very much.”

his eyes shoot towards yours, “does that mean you want to see me again?”

you put his words together, “mark lee, were you trying to get me to go on another date with you by asking me to go to a campus event with free pizza?”

“well, it almost worked, didn’t it?”

“you can think of it as me choosing the next spot.”

his fingers move to try to intertwine his with yours. you bite your lip, letting him hold onto your hand. you don’t want to hold back anymore, he’s made it easy for you to let go of it all.

“i can’t wait. it’s my turn to confess.”

you wait for him to continue, watching him hold back a smile as he pays full attention to your hand holding his. you tell him to focus, and he lets out a sheepish laugh, “that day haechan talked to you, he told me that you were going out that weekend. i really wanted to see you, so we both ended up going out that same weekend, too.”

“how did you know where i would be?”

“we didn’t,” he chuckles, “i just hoped that i would find you, hoped that you would be there. i got lucky that night.”

“it’s like you knew exactly where to find me.”

“it’s almost as if our subconscious were trying to bring us together,” he let’s out a proud noise at his own words while you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“mark, i will threaten to cancel our next date,” you joke.

he hums, “i know where to look to find you, don’t worry.”

mark finds himself in bed with you again.

this time, he knows exactly why. he’s in love with you, and you finally admitted that you’re in love with him. he didn’t rush you, didn’t pressure you into reciprocating his feelings. he could see yourself becoming more comfortable around him, leaning into his touch, smiling at his words. he wouldn’t change anything (besides maybe that day he got dragged by haechan), in order to be here in bed with you.

even if all he had with you was that one night, he’d be happy knowing that he at least spent some time with you. but he got what he wanted, you let him into your life. he would’ve waited years if it meant getting with you.

so as he makes his way in between your thighs once more, he looks to see your face staring down at him with love. though he’s having sex with you again like all those nights ago, it feels different this time. he’s not here just to fuck you, but he’s here because he loves you. what’s even better is that now you love him back, and it feels right as you moan out his name.

he’s softer this time around, no rush in getting you both off as fast as possible. there’s no loud music or screaming coming through the walls, and you’re laying on top of your own bed. he’s here in your room, enjoying the presence of you right next to him.

he licks a stripe up your dripping cunt, savoring the taste that he’s been craving. he looks up to gauge your reaction, a smiling forming on his face to see your face scrunched up with need. he moves to suck on your clit, humming around it, feeling your thighs tighten around his head. he doesn’t bother moving them this time around, letting them try to shut around his head.

you can feel his tongue prod at your entrance, your hands move to tangle in his hair. he just can’t get enough of how sweet you taste. he thinks he could spend hours here in between your thighs, licking up your slick. he thanks every god out there for letting him be here with you, letting him be so entranced by all of you.

he grabs you by the waist to pull you closer to him. you can feel his nose press against your clit, and you can’t help but practically use his face to grind into him. he opens his eyes a bit, looking at the sight of you so fucked out just from his mouth. you’re all he can think about.

you can feel one of his fingers replace his tongue, moving to tease your clenching hole. you gasp out, tears welling in your eyes, “mark, please. need you so bad, you don’t even know-”

“baby-” you moan at the pet name, “i know how much you need me, i could never keep you waiting.” he slides a finger in, relishing in the way you clench around his digit. his mouth focuses on your clit, listening to the moans and whimpers you let out. it’s all because of him this time, all of the things he does for you because of how much he loves you.

he slips another finger in, scissoring them inside you, earning him a tug at his hair. his fingers move to curl inside you, enjoying the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around his fingers. you whimper when he finds your sweet spot, thighs practically trapping him between your thighs. he commits that spot to memory, now forever burned into his mind.

it doesn’t take long for him to get you close to cumming. he’s putting all his attention on you, his desperation showing with how greedily he’s moving against you. you feel your body heat up, thighs beginning to shake around him. “m-mark, ‘m gonna cum, wanna cum so bad!” you wait, and you can feel him smile against you.

he pulls his mouth away from you, his fingers still moving inside of you as he thumb reaches to rub your clit. he moves to kiss you, licking into your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into your mouth as you cum on his fingers. he rides you through it, fingers slowing down as you whine from the overstimulation.

he removes them from you, bringing them up to his mouth. you watch him slide them into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut with the taste of your cum. he lets out a small groan, and you have to lightly kick his leg to get him to focus. his eyes focus on you again, letting out an embarrassed laugh, trying to redirect it towards you.

“my girl came so fast, did you miss me that much?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, “so what if i did! now, will you let me finally suck you off?”

his eyes bulge out of his head and you have to refrain from laughing at the sight. “i never got to, but you don’t know how much i want to.”

you both trade spots, mark laying to lean against the headboard, his hooded eyes staring down at you. your hands trail up his clothed thighs, and he can’t miss the way you look at his bulge in his sweats. you make eye contact with him as you slide down his sweats and boxers, watching how his hard cock slaps against his stomach.

he lets out a low groan at the sight of you so prettily sat between his legs. you kitten lick his tip before wrapping your hand around his length. you move your hand slowly up and down, smiling at the low groans he lets out at the feeling. you won’t ever admit it to him, but you’ve thought about doing this to him too much, even before you started dating.

you can tell he thought about it too with the way his bleary eyes look at you. his head pushes into the headboard as your lips wrap around his tip, sucking lightly. his hand doesn’t hesitate to move to your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your soft skin. your tongue swirls around his tip, and mark tries hard to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat.

you move down his cock, trying to take as much of him as you can. you have to wrap a hand at his base, twisting your fist as you bob your head. his hips buck up a little, feeling you gag around him, moaning out an apology. you hum around him, a hand moving to hold down his hip. he lets out a whine at the feeling of vibrations, one of his hands moving to tug at his hair.

“d-doing so good for me- shit, my girl is doing such a good job for me.”

the praise makes your cheeks heat up, and you quicken your movements to hear more. you swallow around him, hearing the anguished groans he lets out. your tongue slides against the underside of his cock, “such a pretty mouth, making me feel so good. you d-don’t know how much i thought about this.”

if only he knew that you feel the same way. as if to respond to him, your eyes look up at his. they almost flutter close, the sight of his cock in your mouth, your pretty eyes batting at him, and the almost glossy look to your eyes sets something off in him. he’s so close, a broken moan escaping him, “if you keep doing that, i’ll cum- oh god, please don’t stop.”

he tries to hold off to make this last longer, but every time you swallow around him, it gets hard for him to hold back. he’s losing his self control, something that you always manage to take away from him. he doesn’t know how you do it, but he thinks it’s because of all the love he holds for you.

it’s your eyes smiling at him that makes him cum. you don’t pull off of him, trying to fit more of his length into your mouth as he spills his cum down your throat. he’s letting out whines of your name, telling you how good you’ve been, how he’s so lucky to have his pretty girl do this for him. you swallow up all his cum, feeling how his cock twitches in your mouth.

you don’t pull away from him right away, causing mark to nervously laugh out at the feeling of overstimulation. you hum around him once more, causing him to let out a small whimper as he tries to pull away. you slowly pull away from him, mark letting out a huff of relief as you lazily smile at him.

“i think i would’ve passed out if you tried making me cum again.”

you move up to snuggle at his side, nuzzling your face into this neck, “now you know how i feel when i have to get you to stop eating me out.”

he whines out an it’s different! as he wraps his arms around you, tucking you into his chest. he’s warm, slightly sweaty, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. it’s quiet, hearing his heart beat in his chest with you so close to him. you could fall asleep in his arms, but you hear him whisper something above you. you ask him to repeat it, not quite catching it the first time.

“please don't leave me ever again.”

“this is my own apartment-” he laughs at your words, “plus, i think i love you too much to let myself ever leave you.”

he lets out a sigh, calmed by your words, “good. i can’t ever let my girl go anywhere anymore.”

a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED OH MY GOD. i love writing for mark and towards the end i somehow fell more in love with him... i hope u guys enjoy the second part to how it all goes, please let me know if you did!!!! hehe

taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @haechology @hrts4doie @kittydollzz @emvrd @pnkified @se7vnn @p4p1l0nn @jeankirsteinsgf69 @n0hyuck @yoursyuno @doejaejung @ccnicole02 @yuskitty @hyuckills @luvjoongz @sunnyeyes7 @tddyhyck @tmtxtf @arsvita @do0jaem @starfields @yoongjk @qusil @hcluvie @chaeceah @kriizztin

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #mark lee smut #mark lee fic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader

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ohmygs-blog · 2 months

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“miss ur face..”

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luvyeni · 4 months

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hii, just imagine mark with a REALLY shy and sentitive reader

when like, they started dating and are having they first time together and mark wants to make her feel good and is giving her a head, and in a few minutes she started soobing bc mark is sooooo good and her cunt is so sentitive 😫

p. boyfriend!mark x fem bodied reader | warnings: 18+ content (mdni!!), oral sex ( f. receiving ) | words: 0.2k ~ (235) 🐯ㆍ₊⊹

“Mark.” You grabbed at his hair, trying to push his head away — sobbing as mark lapped at your cunt. After a few months of dating you finally allowed him to go down on you.

He wasted no time pulling your pants down, lifting your legs over his shoulders kissing your clit before licking away at your folds.

“Wa-wait ma-mark.” You thrashed around the bed, pushing at his head. He was so good that you felt yourself cumming in only a few minutes — mark was shocked, he’d gone down on a few girls before, but none of them has ever cum so fast before — it was so fucking hot.

Tears streamed down your face as he held down your waist down. “fuck baby your pussy is so sensitive.” He blew on your cunt. “taste so fucking good baby, perfect fucking cunt.” He kissed your clit — your legs twitching as he toyed with you. “ma-mark.”

He pulled away, his lips glistening with your essence. “my sensitive baby.” He toyed with your cunt, unbuckling his pants, letting his cock free, rubbing it up and down your folds. “you can give me another one baby right?”

He wiped your tears, you sniffled nodding, whining as he slowly pushed into your cunt. “fu-fuck you’re so fucking tight baby.” He bottomed out, kissing your fresh tears off your tears.

“Gonna fuck you until your pretty pussy can no longer take me.”

©️LUVYENI

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martiniblues · 6 months

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spidey boy ; 이민형

pairing spiderman!mark x female!reader

synopsis mark has tried to hide his secret identity from you for as long as possible, to keep you safe, of course. little does he know that you’ve untangled his web of lies long ago and will do anything in your power to get him to admit it. just when you've had enough of him lying to you, he ends up getting caught in the act trying to save your life.

genre established relationship, fighting (if you squint), lots of fluff, slight violence and cat-calling, slightly suggestive, mark calls reader “my girl” and “pretty girl”.

wc 2.9k

“do you think that spiderman guy is actually as good as everyone says he is?” you ask mark, who lay peacefully in your lap as your fingers ran through his hair.

you two had been hanging out after school, as you usually do, watching random channels while you both indulged in each other's day. however, you had articulated this hangout the night prior.

a few days ago, you had aimlessly been searching through mark’s backpack in hopes of finding your calculus notes, which you had so graciously let him borrow, only to stumble upon a very familiar red and black mask balled up in the bottom.

at first, you thought mark had hit peak fangirl. he was obsessed with the superhero after all, completely drawn to the tv or newspaper whenever spiderman was mentioned, but so was every other human being in your city.

so when you began noticing how mark’s late-night appearances and “fashionably late” activities began lining up with the famous building-swinging superhero, your mind put the pieces together.

you tried to understand his point of view and why he wouldn’t reveal this very key detail about himself. it hurt you, though, feeling as though there was something in you that made him not feel comfortable enough to expose himself to you.

so, you compiled a plan to get the truth out of him organically, or as organically as this could be.

“wha… what do you mean?” your boyfriend’s head quickly snapped up, turning on his palm to face you with a questionable look knitted into his features.

a smile teasingly pulled on your lips, knowing you had hit a sore spot in his ego. how couldn’t he be proud of himself? after all, he was known as the hero of your city.

“i don’t know,” you continued, leaning back against the couch, watching your boyfriend swing from building to building on the screen in front of your bodies. “he just seems too full of himself, like cool you can swing from buildings and hang upside down, but we have police and firefighters for a reason!”

it took everything in you to not break character, slowly watching mark’s face grow red at your painful statements. he just looked at you, eyes blown wide and brows pulled so close together that you were certain he could get stuck like that.

with a small giggle, you reached out, brushing your thumb between the crease in his brows and bringing it down to caress his cheek.

“what’s with the face, baby? don’t tell me you're obsessed with him too.” his face slowly relaxed as your soft hand held his face, but his brain was still scrambling with your previous statements.

how could you find him not absolutely amazing? he could swing from buildings and hang upside down!

“you don’t think he’s cool? not even a little bit?” mark’s eyes followed yours to the screen. spiderman now being shown saving an older woman from getting mugged.

“i think he’s cool, i guess.” you looked back at your boyfriend only to find his eyes already on your face, his previous expression appearing again. “babe, you can’t be serious.” mark leaned back, feeling completely bewildered by your nonchalant attitude towards his heroic duties.

“it’s not that big of a deal."it’s not like you’re spiderman, so why should it matter if i like him or not?” you titled your head away from the screen to watch his eyes grow wide, and you could audibly hear his breath hitch.

“but…” he quickly let out before catching himself, looking at the tv to see his segment disappear. “but what?” you teased, beginning to feel bad for your ministrations.

he looked back at your face, sighing heavily. “nothing, just like the guy a bit," he said before lying back in your lap to hide his face from you.

this was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

“hey baby~” mark cooed as he stepped into your apartment, takeout bags in hand. you quickly sprung up from your spot at the counter, running to hug your boyfriend after not seeing him for awhile.

after your first attempt to disclose his true identity was unsuccessful, you held off from bringing up the topic for awhile.

but you had finally decided to take a different approach this time.

“i missed you, pretty girl.” the nickname made your cheeks heat up as his cold hands held your face in front of his. he inspected you lovingly, relishing in the fact that he could finally hold you without school being in the way.

“missed you too," you replied before kissing him softly. mark dropped the plastic bag on the counter beside him, pulling you firmly against him. his lips were almost enough to make you forget about your plan.

almost.

“god, i’m hungry.” you pulled away, making him laugh at your cute antics, and he joined you on your couch to eat. as you sat, you pulled off your (mark’s) sweatshirt to reveal the key details of your plan.

mark quickly noticed the black spiderman logo displayed across your chest, at a loss for how quickly your opinion of him changed. “you like?” you asked, flaunting the red baby tee you had bought earlier that day.

“i- i thought you thought spiderman was stupid." he nearly choked on his food, trying not to blush at the image of his girl repping him like this.

“i never said he was stupid, mark. i just thought he was overhyped, but i now understand where all the love is coming from.” you looked down, ogling at your new shirt, sure of its effect on your boyfriend.

“oh…” he tried to fight the grin, trying to cover his lips, but couldn’t contain his relief. “glad you finally came around, baby.” he smiled before shoving his face with more food.

“you’re not jealous?” you asked, beginning to take on step two of your plan. “he is a guy, after all.”

this made mark actually choke on his food. “what? why would i be jealous about that?"

“i mean, your girlfriend wearing a shirt for some muscular superhero who is most definitely sickly hot under that skin tight suit he wears while saving lives." you went on swirling your fork in your food, looking up every so often to see mark’s cheeks darken at the compliments.

he held his head down, but not enough for his flushed ears and cheeks to go unoticed. “why are you so red, baby? i still like you more, you know; spiderman can’t take you away from me.” you reached over and combed your fingers through his hair to feign worry.

“that is, unless he happens to swing by and sweep me up with his insane muscles.” you winked, making your boyfriend turn into a tomato.

“yeah, you wish he would do that.” mark joked, trying to deflate his growing pride, which you continued to boost.

“what? are you saying i’m not worthy of spiderman’s fantastic biceps picking me up and swinging me through the night sky?” mark looked at you quizzically.

you couldn’t be serious, could you?

mark discarded his food, crawling over to trap you beneath his body. "fantastic, you say... and what are these?” he made reference to his own muscular arms peeking through his fitted white tee.

"marvelous," you replied, sliding your fingers softly over your boyfriend's muscles. how lovely it was that you didn’t have to dream of spiderman’s biceps as they sat right in front of you.

“better than fantastic in my book.” mark smiled before catching your lips in his.

your spiderman shirt was soon discarded in that moment but continued to linger in mark’s head days later.

“i’m just gonna go grab a few things. i promise i won’t be long.” you stood in your doorway, attempting to run to the store to get a few things before it got too late.

mark hated this.

“why cant i just go get it or go with you?” mark wrapped his arms around you from behind, making it increasingly difficult to slide on your shoes. he kissed you all over your neck and face, held your hand, pulled at your jacket sleeves, and even attempted to block the door entirely to try and get you to stay, but you were as determined as you ever were.

“i’m a grown woman, mark. i can run down the block by myself.” you turned around in his arms, reaching for your keychain next to his head on the wall, hanging by a hook.

“it’s dangerous out there. wouldn’t want my pretty girl getting hurt.” he slouched against the wall, still holding onto your hand as your whole body nearly made it out the door.

“good thing spiderman will be there to save me from any danger.” you teased him before slamming the door in his face, preventing him from getting anymore words out. not that he could form any from your statement anyway.

as you made your way through the isles of the tiny convenience store down the block from your place, you began to notice a dark figure popping into your vision.

a man decked out in all black and wearing a dark baseball cap pulled down just enough to hide his eyes followed your trail through the store.

he just coincidentally needs the same things, plus it’s freezing outside. that’s why he’s covered up so much, you thought. you can't say much about covering up with your giant black puffer jacket nearly swallowing you whole.

as your shopping trip continued, you couldn’t help but notice the figure not picking up a single item they inspected.

how weird, you thought.

“have a nice night!” the sweet cashier bid you goodbye before you quickly made your way out of the store.

as you exited the glass doors, the figure from earlier greeted you outside. your steps increased in speed as you noticed the figure continuing to follow your path.

you: mark could you meet me outside

you: creepy dude won’t stop following me

you: dude answer the phone

you: mark come on this is serious

you huffed, knowing the figure was still following you from a distance and aggravated by mark ignoring your texts.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone at night?” the figure spoke from your side, somehow managing to come up beside you without you noticing.

you stayed silent, pretending to be interested in the cement beneath your feet.

“hey! i’m talking to you!” the voice barked, noticeably irritated by your lack of interest. “i asked you a question, bitch!” a hand grabbed your wrist tightly, stopping you in your tracks.

thinking it was the figure, your body froze seeing spiderman right in front of you. stumbling back, you watched your hero step in and fight off the creepy man, knocking him over before webbing him to the alley wall ahead.

“try and speak to her again, and you’ll get much worse than a few webs on you.” the familiar voice of your boyfriend came out deep and threatening, making your breath hitch. you had never heard him speak like that.

while the bum continued to try and yell through the webs plastered over his mouth, spiderman turned to check on you.

“everything all right? he didn’t touch you or hurt you, babe- i mean, mam?” the fumbling of words made you laugh slightly, knowing the dork under the mask.

“i’m all right, thanks to you, spiderman.” you swooned, so caught up with the fact that your own boyfriend was spiderman and that he had practically beaten and webbed a man to a wall for you.

“what could i ever do to repay you?” you asked, trying not to trip over your own feet at the way the suit hugged mark’s muscle so well. more than any t-shirt ever could.

“just doing my job, as always.” spiderman leaned his body against the wall smoothly, resting his head against his fist. you two stood there in a few seconds of silence, both not knowing what to do.

“you better get headed home; it’s getting late.” he coughed, finally breaking out of his daze.

“no swinging around the city for me?” you asked, pretty disappointed that your boyfriend was about to make you walk home alone. “no can do, web swinging with lovely ladies is a daytime activity only; i wouldn’t want anyone to miss it.” he pulled his body from the wall, shooting up a web to hang from a sign above your heads.

“what a shame. guess you’ll just have to give me a show of the city another day," you replied, watching as mark swung his legs over the sign to hang upside down effortlessly.

definitely trying to impress me, you thought.

“i can see what i can do.” he crossed his arms over his chest before you stepped forward on your tiptoes, placing your hand on his cheek, making him short circuit.

“thanks again, spiderman.” you spoke, leaning into him to place a quick kiss on his mask-covered cheek.

“of-of course. any day, mam,” his voice cracked at your actions, making you laugh as you turned away to walk home.

mark hung in bliss before realizing he was supposed to be at your place, not saving your life in a spidey suit.

you rushed through the door, dropping your bag on the ground and making a beeline to your room. the only place with a window mark could slide through without getting caught.

you swung open your door to reveal a maskless spiderman half way through your bedroom window, eyes wide, body frozen.

you froze in shock, almost surprised that your plan had finally worked. "gotcha," you smiled, leaning against your door frame satisfied.

“uh…” mark scrambled, attempting to put his mask back on as if it would make you forget seeing his face entirely. as he tripped and tumbled around your room, you slowly made you way behind him.

“mark,” you began, attempting to get him to calm down. “baby,” you turned him slowly as he finally got his mask back on. “mark? who’s mark? that your boyfriend or something?” he attempted to deepen his voice to throw you off.

he realized this was unsurprisingly unsuccessful, noticing the smirk that continued to show on your face. “you know him, don’t you, spiderman? he’s the boy who just kicked ass and saved my life less than ten minutes ago.” you said, gently pulling off his mask to reveal your boyfriend’s face.

he stared at you, not knowing how you felt. “look, i can explain this all,” he nervously let out as he looked anywhere but your eyes.

before he could explain, you kissed him softly, wanting to ease his worry and express your gratitude. he saved your life after all, and not just by being spiderman.

“i’m not mad, not at all.” you looked into his eyes, noticing how at ease he seemed to be at the relief of your words.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i was so scared you wouldn’t want to be with me or be scared of me,” he ranted, trying to make you see his side in case you had lied and were even the littlest bit mad at him. he hated when you were mad at him more than anything.

“why would i not want to be with you? i love you, mark, so much, it’s crazy.” you pulled his face into your hands in disbelief at his words. “and plus, how could i be scared of such a handsome, strong, crime-fighting superhero who so happens to double as my boyfriend. if anything, people should fear me,” you joked, ripping a laugh from his lips.

“how long have you known?” he asked, pulling you closer by your waist. biting your lip, you looked down, trying to hold back your laugh. “remember when you borrowed my notes for class and forgot to give them back?"

you didn’t even have to finish, seeing the realization wash over his face as the words fell from your lips.

“yeah, maybe putting your suit in your backpack wasn’t the best place.” you both laughed at the situation at hand; mark was completely dumbfounded.

“so that’s why you talked such shit about me and bought that stupid shirt!” he continued to put together the pieces, gripping your waist tighter as he laughed at his own stupidity.

"ding, ding, ding!” you replied, pulling away slightly to take in his whole look, still not being used to see him like this up close. “yeah, definitely need to see you in this more often now."

mark flushed, turning into putty in your presence. your eyes traveled all over the intricate details and meshing of the suit. how it hugged his body and made him look completely unreal.

“do a little spin for me, doll.” you teased, wanting to ease up all the pent-up emotions still hanging in the air. mark giggled at your stupid comment but did as you asked nonetheless, turning slowly for you.

turning completely to the back, not a second went by before mark felt a harsh slap on his skin. “fuck baby! what was that for?” he whined, reaching down to rub the irritated spot.

"sorry, i couldn’t help myself when you have an ass like that, mark lee.” you smiled at his pained expression, putting your arms back to lean against your vanity, still ogling at your boyfriend’s physique.

“guess i really do need to wear this more around you.” he placed his hands on either side of you, trapping you beneath him.

“maybe the story time can wait till later.” you breathed before his lips pressed themselves to yours.

“i love you so much, my girl."

“i love you too, spidey boy.”

now you had mark completely to yourself, spiderman and all with no secrets left to hide.

note | more spider!mark WHAT CAN I SAYYY WHAT CAN I SAYYY. he’s literally my fav mark to write ever like pleaseee get him as the korean peter parker asap!!! anyways, hope you loved this and my request box is always open <333

#nct #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct 127 fic #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #mark lee x you #nct mark #nct mark lee #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct angst #mark lee angst

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keurimi · 9 days

Text

OF HEXES AND LOVE POTIONS: chapter one

masterlist

if mark lee hated professor flitwick for always singling him out during class, then he definitely loathed him now.

mark was, admittedly, not the brightest student in hogwarts. if he were, then the sorting hat should’ve placed him with the brainy kids – the ravenclaws. but he wasn’t. he was just a regular lad in hufflepuff. embarrassingly, he was failing charms. he had barely passed the first two years (note: barely), but with every spell becoming more and more complicated, his skills needed to be at least average. furthermore, he had expressed to his parents of his dream of becoming an auror, basically someone who protects the wizarding world. it was a must for him to pass the most of basic of subjects which is charms.

he really wasn’t expecting much when flitwick called him to his office. he guessed that the goblin might’ve wanted to give him a proper scolding to motivate him to study (which would’ve been unfair because he really was trying), or another one of his “charms for dummies!” spell books for him to read. what he wasn’t expecting, though, was a first-year slytherin student sat in front of flitwick, not even giving him a glance.

flitwick ushered for mark to sit down, to which he obliged. “this, boy, is y/n from the slytherin house. she is undoubtedly one of the best witches of her year.” mark saw you sat up as flitwick complimented you.

“she’s very proficient in first year spells that i actually taught her the second-year ones, to which she has shown proficiency in as well. and alas, as i taught her the third-year spells, the results were all the same. she is ahead of her cohorts, this girl.” flitwick continued.

mark felt his eye twitch. was this goblin really just looking for an audience to praise some first-year? and picked his worst student at that? he held himself back from saying some . . unbecoming words that could get him into detention. his silence urged flitwick to continue speaking.

“due to her outstanding performance in charms, she will be tutoring you for the rest of the term.”

“what?!” you and mark both exclaimed.

“sir, i appreciate the compliments and your trust in my skills –” mark barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at your words. “but i cannot possibly have the time to tutor someone, someone who is supposed to be more advanced than i am!”

“and sir, i am aware of my performance in class, but really, asking a first-year to do this? my pride is hurt, sir!” mark almost yelled, much to flitwick’s dismay.

“silence, lee.” flitwick glared at mark, shutting him up. “y/n is the perfect candidate to be your tutor, as i’ve realized you require more than one educator for you to improve.” the goblin sighed. “she is a first year, with no extracurriculars yet and with a much lighter workload. you tutoring lee, miss y/n, will not affect your grades in any way shape or form.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but before you could do so, flitwick spoke once more. “could you help a goblin out, miss y/n? the last thing i want is failing a student, it’s such a hassle for me to handle the paperwork. i’m getting old, and stress is catching up with me.”

you paused for a bit, sparing the 3rd year who was slumping and pouting on his chair a glance, and sighed in defeat. “fine, i’ll do it.”

mark, in his thirteen years of being alive, had never absolutely felt the word embarrassment right to his core, not until now.

it wasn’t much of a surprise that his group of friends were suddenly informed of his. . academic situation with a first-year slytherin. gossip travels quickly in hogwarts, that he knows as much. it was also just to his luck that you were an acquaintance of jisung’s, and jisung isn’t exactly well-known for keeping secrets. he eventually spilled the beans to chenle, who was always hanging out with jeno, and jeno seemed to favor jaemin’s company so naturally, jaemin found out as well. jaemin shared a dorm room with haechan, who was another loud mouth that kept hovering around renjun, and eventually, the news reached renjun, who had way too many friends in the ravenclaw house for mark’s liking, and they found out about it too.

eventually, the entire castle found out that a thirteen-year-old’s tutor was an eleven-year-old. definitely nothing weird about that.

for the following weeks, mark had to live through snickers and stares as he walks down the castle’s hallways. the attention got even worse whenever students would spot him with you on school grounds.

and speaking of you, well, mark thought you were a brat.

it was never a good idea for a child to teach another child (“like the blind leading the blind”, haechan had once quipped). you were temperamental, stoic, and strict at the same time. you got mad quite easily and always raised your voice whenever you felt the slightest frustration (which would only escalate since mark loves pressing your buttons). he found your pursed lips, furrowed eyebrows, and huffing whenever mark makes a mistake amusing, that was until you decided to punish him with a light hex if he ever made you mad.

the tutoring hours were long, too. after class, he’d take a quick bite at the great hall and spend almost four hours with someone he deemed a variant of an angry goblin. those sessions were extra hellish when his friends would sit and watch.

tldr, mark was just exhausted. he was tired of seeing you, his friends’ teasings, the looks on everyone’s faces, and flitwick’s expectations of him.

he let out a long sigh, catching your attention.

“you know, we’d finish much earlier if you were doing it right.” you mumbled grumpily.

“i’m trying, okay?” mark replied through gritted teeth. today, you had decided to teach him about the tickling spell, rictusempra, by making him apply it to a beetle. “i don’t think beetles can even feel this spell.”

“well, it’d probably react.” you shrugged your shoulders.

“probably?”

“oh, just do it!”

the next day, mark lee felt tired.

it felt like he exhausted all of his strength trying to conduct the spell correctly onto an animal that he’s almost a hundred percent sure cannot be tickled. he kept muttering the words ‘rictusempra’ over and over again, making sure his wand was facing the direction of the beetle (he can also clearly hear you scold him for waving his wand willy-nilly).

mark, who was hunched over the table in the great hall, felt a light tap on his shoulder. he looked up and saw his friends grinning. “need some company?”

“if you’re just gonna piss me off, then no. i don’t need company.” mark groaned.

haechan cooed and sat beside him, the other boys following suit. “aw c’mon, it’s probably not that bad.”

“yeah, for you.”

jaemin slid a plate of food in front of mark. “hey, it’s best if you get some grub. you’re probably stressed out enough.”

mark sniffled and snuggled jaemin’s arm. “aw man, you’re literally my best friend!” which resulted into haechan whining and the others rolling their eyes.

mark went back to his charms textbook and the spell he’s been practicing for almost a day now as the guys continued their own conversations. “rictusempra!” mark whispered, waving his wand mindlessly as he chewed on his bread, re-reading his charms notes.

his attention was averted to the sudden piercing scream, no, it was a laugh – from the slytherin table.

the laugh felt too familiar, and it sent chills down mark’s spine.

he tried to look for the source of the sound. his wavering gaze fell on your wriggling figure on top of the table in front of him, you were laughing, crying, screaming uncontrollably. he froze when your eyes met his. oh, fuck, was all he could think about.

“mark lee – HAHAHAHA – you frigging – HAHAHAHA bastard! HAHAHAHA!”

he saw haechan and jaemin run towards your figure, with slight panic and amusement painted on their faces at the same time. chenle gripped mark’s shoulder and watched as haechan, with jaemin trudging along, struggled to carry you out of the great hall. “dude, you’re fucked.

taglist: @soobiary @msbyswife @pinknjm @peterparkerluvvbot @kodasity @llearlert @artstaeh @b-riize @soonyoonswoo

a/n: after so long! i’m so sorry for the delay guys! i’m a graduating university student so things got out of hand kinda quick; but i managed to pull through! thanks to everyone who waited & thanks to everyone who congratulated me in getting into med school lol I LOVE U ALL SMSMSM!

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#nct dream #nct #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee #nct dream scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct dream headcanons #nct dream fics #mark lee fics #mark lee scenarios #mark lee headcanons #mark lee imagines

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galacticseonghwa · 7 months

Note

i was wondering if you could do texts with nct dream with reader calling the dreamies pretty boy for the first time and them REALLY liking it

NCT DREAM reactions to you calling them pretty boy for the first time texts

ofc i can my love! i hope you like it!

INCLUDES: swearing, dreamies being whipped, me being delulu for them all tbh, fluff

a/n: not proofread

#galacticseonghwa #nct #nctzen #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fic #nct dream fake texts #mark lee #huang renjun #lee jeno #lee haechan #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung

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markresonates · 7 months

Text

two hot

summary: for some reason, your body requires more than one alpha to satiate your needs in heat, leading Mark to seek assistance from his best friend when you unexpectedly start going into heat in public.

pairing: alpha bf!Mark x omega!fem reader x alpha!Haechan

other: alphas Jen & Jis lil voy

genre/trope: porn w/ lil plot, tiny fluff bc i'm soft; omegaverse, fake medical conditions as a plot device; (eventual poly, not jealous love tri)

word count: 8.8k

a/n: so here's that markhyuck omega heat sex threesome idea i mentioned a while ago...per usual, it’s longer than i said why am i the way i am i'm splitting it into two parts w/ pt 2 up soon!

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), cock warming, manhandling, exhibitionism & extremely public, voyeurism, humiliation, lil dumbification, overstimulation, degradation & praise, spitting, stomach bulge, cum inflation, knotting, oral fixation reader, breeding & creampie kinks; sweet hard dom Mark & hard dom Haechan, super sub reader [ note – heat sex is categorized as dubcon; therefore, read at your own discretion ]

You thought you had more time. You should have had more time.

About an hour into your new Introduction to Astronomy lecture, your waning attention span is fully disrupted by a suspicious wetness you feel between your thighs. You uncross your legs and casually glance down, heart dropping when you discover a small pool of glossy slick in the middle of your lecture hall seat, heralding the start of your heat.

it’s official: life fucking hates you.

Rationally, you’re aware of the fact that you need to formulate a plan but as you shift in your seat, your train of thought is derailed by the sensation sparked between your legs. You clench your jaw and grind your teeth together, forbidding your mouth from vocalizing the shred of gratification you get from squirming in your seat.

Of all the damn days to pair a bodysuit and a pleated mini skirt, this day has got to be the absolute worst. But of course it had to be warm enough today that you felt comfortable showing more skin. In your mind, it made sense to seize the favorable weather before the last remnants of Summer disappeared into a chilly Autumn, but now you’d rather be bundled in three thick layers and sweating buckets than vulnerable in your current attire.

While you arch your back and discreetly grind against the messy chair, the bodysuit stretches, progressively sliding up your abdomen, and bunching at your waist. The damp material tugs on your hood, a second later, your clit is subjected to rough stimulation directly. Intense tingles ripple through your core from the sensitive spot. Even with your lips pressed together, you can’t suppress the tiny high-pitched squeak in your throat.

Renjun angles his laptop towards you, quickly typing out are you okay?

You freeze your body. Giving him a terse nod, you rid yourself of the unwanted attention and resume the lewd activity. It takes a mere 30 seconds for your folds to eat up the narrow strips of material that once covered your intimate parts, giving your slick pussy a wedgie. It’s uncomfortably restrictive, and yet, simultaneously a massive turn on.

You should be more concerned but the torturous pressure feels too good to stop, restraint briefly suspended again in a pleasured daze, chasing the desired pulsating sensation. Your eyes pop out of your head hearing the small metal snap of your bodysuit’s crotch region pop open, exposing your panties underneath and instantly bringing you back to reality.

Jisung ducks his head near your ear. “Hey, what’s that-?”

“What’s what?” you immediately cut him off, worried he heard the same noise.

He hums, pursing his lips. “What’s that smell?”

“uh, well…”

You gulp, so mortified that it’s impossible to meet his eyes, embarrassment warming your cheeks, your heat cranking up the bubbling sensation within you.

This shouldn’t be happening. You’ve documented your heat cycle since the day you started taking suppressants years ago. If you left it up to nature, your heat would be a seasonal affair. Now, thanks to the convenience of modern-day medicine, taking one daily pill significantly lowers your heat cycle frequency to biannually.

It’s always been consistent enough that you could pinpoint the exact 48 hour period in which it would start. In fact, a series of predetermined dates are highlighted on your desk calendar for when you’re supposed to be in heat: over four months from now.

Your scent is detectable in two ways: if someone were to press their nose directly to your scent gland, or the significantly more potent way, through the profuse slick secretion omegas produce in heat.

And given the fact that you’re practically sitting in a puddle of slick at the moment, panic is knocking at your front door with fever. Any alpha in a ten foot radius will soon smell the arousing nectar leaking out of you.

Fortunately, you’re in the last row of a half empty lecture hall. Rather than a dozen alphas, it’s a handful of the closest ones that’ll be raising their noses to get a whiff of the fragrant aroma floating through the air, two of those alphas being your friends.

Jisung sniffs around curiously, even going so far as to lean forward, over where Jeno is sitting directly in front of you.

“Hmm, it’s, like, sweet and fruity. Do you smell it? Like raspberries…or maybe strawberries?”

Renjun stops typing notes on his laptop. “I don’t smell anything.”

Figures; betas like Renjun don’t detect omega scents until they are at the absolute peak of their heat, and even then it wouldn’t be very strong.

“Also, for your information, raspberries and strawberries aren’t berries.”

“Wha- Really!?”

“Yeah. Most fruits that end in ‘berry’ aren’t actually berries, botanically speaking.”

“Um, Renjun?” you try to grab his attention in a hushed voice, failing as a result of Jisung talking over you at the same instant.

Besides your first heat, you’ve always been well prepared. You take preventative measures against potential alphas who may smell you and want to take advantage of a heat-drunk omega.

Your typical protocol entails remaining holed up in your dark room. The mini fridge by your desk is fully stocked with four days worth of food and beverages, the air conditioner is on full blast, curtains and blinds drawn closed. Your door is secured shut with three bolted locks too.

For your past few heats, Mark has locked himself up with you as well. Being an omega, it was of vital importance to find a trustworthy alpha that wouldn’t savagely take advantage of your heat-induced instinctual nature to follow an alpha’s orders. The whole reason you submit to Mark is because you know he would never take things too far. For your past two heats, Mark was knotting you until his exhaustion proved overwhelming, and he physically couldn’t use his big dick any longer. Basically, your alpha can’t go far enough, for some indiscernible reason.

Based on the increasing amount of slick and the new ache in your core, you’d estimate you have less than an hour before your heat will seriously start affecting your senses. There’s a reason you keep track of your heat cycle, and it’s to avoid horrendous situations like this one.

You’re struck with uncertainty and a minor sense of helplessness, facing your worst nightmare alone. At the moment, you don’t have Mark by your side, protecting you from other predatory alphas, ensuring you eat and drink something when you’re too out of it to do so yourself; and most importantly, pleasuring you to take away the pain that comes with your extreme heat cramps.

You need Mark.

Mouth beginning to water, deep in your filthy thoughts, you don’t register the conversation around you. You imagine him taking care of you in this very lecture hall, bent over the sturdy wooden podium at the front of the class.

You’re preoccupied and perplexed, a fraction of you developing a peculiarly strong craving for a knot – any knot. Considering how fast your heat crept up on you in the first place, you have every reason to believe this craving will continue to intensify. You feel ashamed to admit it, but at this rate, you might just find yourself allowing any alpha to knot you.

Jisungs face scrunches up in disbelief, hearing another botanical fun fact. “No way. You’re trying to tell me bananas are berries? I don’t believe you.”

Jeno snorts, barely peering over his shoulder to throw his two cents into the hushed conversation. “Why are you arguing with Renjun? When was the last time you ate a fruit?”

“I don’t know. When was the last time you didn’t fall asleep at 6 am?” Jisung grumbles, not-so-quietly as he intended.

If they weren’t in a classroom setting, Jisung would’ve hidden behind Renjun or grabbed something to shield himself from the other alpha’s wrath. Jeno fully twists his torso around, dawning a toothy grin that spells trouble for the youngest in the near future. He opens his mouth to speak but ultimately falls silent.

The lecture hall’s desks are the type that flip down to hover over half of your lap. With only your right thigh covered, Jeno’s eyes flick down to where you've been looking.

He zeros in on the source of the fruity scent Jisung was referencing. He drops his smile, licking his lips, dark pupils flashing candy apple red. The other two shift their attention to your lap in quick succession.

Initially, Jisung doesn’t see what they do from his position. His curiosity then leads the naive boy to bend his upper body down and inch forward. Finally granted a vantage point to peer between your legs, his face turns a shade that matches the berries he spoke of a minute ago.

“Uh, y/n? Are you, um, in-” Jisung stutters, his bright eyes locked between your parted thighs.

Both alphas stare, mystified by the sight of your drenched panties, the thin white material now see-through and doing nothing to stop you from making a mess in the center of the lecture hall chair. Lifting your head, you see Jeno’s pupils fully dilated, swirling with lust, and you imagine Jisung isn’t too far off, mirroring the older alpha.

You belatedly try to snap your thighs together but Jisung, of all people, latches onto your inner knee and keeps most of your seeping slit on display for them. His fingers digs into your soft skin in an uncharacteristically possessive manner, while Jeno quietly growls.

They’re increasingly aroused hearing a spurt of your slick gush from your core, discovering you to be turned on by your own humiliation. You softly whine, embarrassed beyond all possible belief.

“What happened to decorum, huh?” the beta scolds the younger alphas.

Jisung snaps out of it and rips his hand away so fast it hits his desk. “Ow!”

“Acting like you just presented and never smelled slick before? Ugh. Get a fucking grip, you guys.”

Renjun sets his phone on his desk, angling it towards you to show his screen and you tune out the apology from the frazzled boy on your right. “Hey, so I texted Mark. The good news is he’s on his way.”

You exhale in relief. “Okay. Wait, what’s the bad news?”

Renjun winces, reluctant to kill your newly kindled hope. “Well…he said it’ll probably take him a half hour to get here.”

“A half hour?”

You snap your tongue, loathing today’s dreaded turn of events. You squeeze your eyes shut to fight off the tears threatening to stain your burning cheeks.

“Oh, hold on.” Renjun scans the new message from your boyfriend, rereading it in his head, triple checking the text before delivering the additional details. “He said he’s…sending someone to get you? And they’ll be here in a dozen minutes or so.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Who?”

“Dunno, he didn't say.” Renjun shoots him another text, asking for the identity of this mystery person he’s referring to.

You stare at his phone intently, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck and haloing your hairline. Renjun taps the dim screen to keep it from turning off.

As you impatiently wait for an answer, your old nervous habit of picking and biting your nails resurfaces. You peel part of your nail off and fixate on the minor self-inflicted sting for the sake of a distraction from your intimate regions pulsating with arousal, not to mention the graphic, x-rated imagery about how easily you’d bend over for alphas in your vicinity.

Renjun lifts the back of his hand to your feverish forehead, the worry on his face deepening into his soft features. “Don’t take this the wrong way, y/n, but why did you come to class if you were in pre-heat?”

“When I left my apartment this morning, I didn’t fucking feel like I was in pre-heat,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

You ring your head low and swallow your bad temperament as the harsh tone reaches your ears. You cringe, barely recognizing your own voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated because I don’t know what’s going on. I shouldn’t take it out on you though.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. You’re stressed out.” Renjun gives you a sympathetic look, equally as confused by your body as you are. “Well this explains why you wore that today.”

“What do you mean?”

Renjun clicks on the weather app to show you the temperature outside. “Because it’s cold today. But if you were really warm, the temperature outside wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Ugh, oh my god. You’re right,” you reply, mentally slapping your forehead for not actually checking the forecast for today. Simply put, you believed you knew better, based on how warm your room felt when you got out of bed this morning.

You hold your abdomen and apply minimal pressure there, preparing for the onset of pain when your cramps start up, just like the bad habit responsible for the new drop of blood swelling at the tip of your finger.

Jisung is quick to dig into his messy backpack and procure a quick fix for any minor injuries. It’s clear that he’s trying to be as helpful as possible, still feeling terribly guilty for holding your thighs open and preventing you from hiding what was visible to him and Jeno through your thin panties.

You dab the blood with the folded tissue he hands you, and then wrap the blue and green, dinosaur themed band-aid around your finger. “Thank you,” you whisper to Jisung sincerely, touching his arm to express gratitude.

You don’t blame the guilt-ridden alpha too much. After watching your pussy leak slick through the soaked white material, it was only in his nature to want to breed an omega on the verge of going into heat. The baby alpha Jisung you know and love wouldn’t do that.

Renjun lightly taps the back of your hand when you pick the finger next to the freshly bandaged one. He clasps your hands together, preventing you from doing more damage to that hand, at least.

You frown at your hypocritical friend who himself hasn’t managed to kick the same bad habit as you. Nonetheless, you appreciate his comforting action.

“You know, I keep thinking why me? What have I done to deserve this?” You gesture at your thighs with your free hand. “And how am I supposed to last another however many minutes?”

Renjun pauses and sighs. “On second thought, maybe you should go now. It’s way stuffier inside, so it might be a good idea to go splash some water on your face in the bathroom first before whoever Mark sent gets here.”

You hesitate for a second. You're troubled by not only the mess you've made in your seat, but the continual trickle of slick, potentially painting a colorful bullseye on your wet cunt.

Alphas with practiced, keen olfactory systems can track a scent from a mile away, the express purpose to savagely use the needy omega they find simply because your kind is at its most vulnerable in heat.

You always knew that omegas drew the short stick in life, but it was only after you had observed Mark’s rut in person that you officially became envious of alphas. An alpha’s number one priority during rut, above food and shelter and anything in between, is to breed omegas.

They’ll brutally fuck a slick hole for multiple days, repeatedly knotting them until their bun-hungry alpha brain is sure that the omega will deliver them happy, healthy pups.

Nearly every omega and most alphas take suppressants, making the chances of knocking up an omega less than 0.001% if both partners are medicated. Though, regardless of their incredibly slim chances of conceiving, that does not dissuade a stubborn alpha in rut from attempting to produce offspring.

During Mark’s last rut, despite the primal need to dominate and fuck your brains out, oddly enough, his stamina weirdly didn’t match yours.

“Whoever Mark’s sending is supposed to get here any minute, so there’s no real harm in leaving a minute earlier. No one would try anything with you if you’re in a public setting like school,” Renjun assures you and gives your hand one last squeeze.

“Y/n?” Jisung works up the courage to gently tap your arm like you did his, giving you what remains of the travel size tissue packet that’s been in his backpack for nearly three years. “Don’t worry about the chair. We’ll wipe it off when you leave.”

Jeno guiltily turns around again and apologizes like the younger alpha. He then makes a generous offer to save you the trouble of waiting a second longer to leave for good.

“I can drive you home now, if you want, y/n. And, you know, if you feel comfortable enough being alone with another alpha…no pressure. It’s just the least I can do.”

“Um, thank you. I think, uh…”

Fifteen minutes ago, when you had no plan whatsoever and hadn’t been in contact with Mark, you would’ve taken him up on the offer, but Renjun is right. You know that a part of you is really craving a knot. However, you believe you’re lucid enough to handle going to the bathroom by yourself.

You don’t see yourself jumping at the first opportunity to sit on a throbbing alpha cock, bouncing up and down, pathetically begging them to fill you up with an excessive amount of cum, like you did before. Plus, you don’t want to attract even more unwanted attention if two of you were to stand up and walk out in the middle of the lecture.

“I think I’m good, Jeno. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be fine.”

You pick up your bag, tying the varsity jacket that Jeno generously handed to you around your waist. You head for the door, walking at a reasonable speed to not attract more attention than your scent likely has.

Jeno’s jacket conceals most of the slick running down your inner thighs, and you make a mental note to somehow make it up to him later.

You have almost reached the bathroom when, out of nowhere, you’re ambushed by an alpha, pressed face first against the brick wall of the science building.

Whoever it is had the sense to slip his hand in front of your heated forehead to break the blow against the wall and not crack your skull open on impact. Obviously, alphas don’t want a dead omega.

You can’t breed something that’s not breathing.

That’s basic alpha 101.

Your heart rattles in your ribcage, racing a million miles per hour. You wish you were allotted enough time to wipe up your slick before being attacked.

If only you had accepted Jeno’s offer to be safely escorted, then you wouldn’t be pinned to a wall, hands held behind your back by an alpha presumably relying purely on an animalistic desire.

To make matters worse, being dominated so aggressively triggers a surge of arousal from within your inner omega, the yearning for sexual fulfillment intensifying at a rate higher than in your lecture.

On instinct, tremendously touch starved, you grind your hips back, pressing your ass against the half-hard cock hidden in the alpha’s pants.

He leans closer to your ear, pulling the cherry lollipop out of his mouth to whisper in a deep, gravelly voice, “Did somebody miss me?”

You whimper, timidly, and he chuckles.

Something possesses you to tilt your head to the side, submissive and craving a knot so damn badly that you’re willing to bare your vulnerable neck for the alpha.

He hesitates, before nosing at your scent gland, shakily exhaling through his mouth. Presented with such an alluring opportunity, the alpha almost loses his cool, tempted to accept your invitation and take advantage of your omega’s baseline reflex to submit.

Practicing a degree of restraint that very, very few alphas in his unique position possess, he instead places a single soft kiss to the spot he knows is reserved for Mark’s teeth.

Mark…

You break out of your innate trance as lips that don’t belong to your alpha are still pressed to your neck, the gravity kicking in about what it means to allow a stranger to bite and claim you.

You can’t imagine what your life would be like as a double claimed omega, shared by two alphas, belonging to both Mark and the mysterious, possessive person behind you.

You catch him off guard by ripping away. You whip around, snapping your tongue when you finally discover the identity of your attacker.

“Argh, what the fuck, Haechan?”

You lean back against the solid wall, holding a hand over your chest as if your heart is on the brink of bursting through the slats of your ribs.

“Did you have to give me a heart attack? What happened to saying hello, hm?”

He snickers, a melodious, infectious laugh that makes you want to smile as well. This time, with tremendous effort, you hold your ground.

“What’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” he says, sticking the candy back in his mouth.

You wish you could chase away the butterflies in your stomach that are consistently conjured up when his designated pet name for you rolls off his silver tongue. You’ve seen Haechan flirt with countless girls, yet he’s always reserved “sweetheart” and “sweetie” for his favorite omega.

You can’t describe why hearing his pet names excites you, inappropriately so. Perhaps, you like feeling special to him in some way, his sugar-coated sweet tooth reserved for you and you only.

Mark knows all of this.

He would have to be both blind and deaf to not see Haechan’s effect on your body and pick up on the sound of your heart racing. His charming best friend is frustratingly swoon worthy, but Mark had never minded it much. A case can be made that Mark is the jealous type. It’s for this very reason you find it so curious that he allows Haechan to get away with openly flirting with his omega.

“Why are you even-?”

You freeze as he wipes a tear from your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers along the side of your face and down your neck. He wraps his hand behind your neck with his thumb pressing into where your pulse is fluttering rapidly, tucking the lollipop into the side of his cheek to speak.

“Shh, take deep breaths for me, baby. In…out…in…out.”

The alpha’s instruction marginally calms your nerves, your omega instincts compelling you to follow without question. You are obedient and malleable, most especially in heat, for Haechan and your own alpha, of course.

“Good girl.” His praise has you biting your lip, whining softly. “Renjun probably told you but Mark’s on his way. He sent me to take care of you first.”

“Oh,” you reply, dumbly.

You should have suspected that Mark would send him to pick you up. It’s obvious in retrospect. He trusts Haechan with his life; by extension, he would have total faith in his best friend to handle you too.

“Yeah, oh,” he mimics with an annoyingly charming curl of his heart shaped lips.

Haechan basically gets off on annoying people, although his form of teasing you differs from others. Plus, you never fail to give him the reaction he’s searching for, playfully rolling your eyes, quietly snapping your tongue, or throwing some weak comeback in return.

“Are you disappointed to see me, y/n? I know you're Mark’s princess but you’ll just have to settle for me this time.”

“Wow, how noble of you. My hero,” you reply, sarcastically. “Can we go now?”

“By all means, lead the way, sweetheart.”

Right on queue, you roll your eyes, just like he knew you would. You take a few steps in the direction he gestures to before the first heat cramp punctures your core. Luckily, Haechan catches your body as your knees buckle, doubling over in pain.

Haechan clears his throat. “Y/n, you should know that Mark didn’t just send me here to pick you up,” he says cryptically, unpocketing his phone.

He proceeds to play a voicemail Mark left him. You listen with pursed lips, furrowing your brow as you take in your alpha’s words.

You try to concentrate on the message, partially distracted by Haechan’s scent swirling around you, quickly permeating your skin and thoughts.

“Hyuck, you’re the only alpha I completely trust to take care of y/n like that…and by that, you know what I mean. And don’t be surprised if she, like, starts to beg for it. She can be realllly needy, trust me.”

There’s a spike in Haechan’s scent, reminded of his personal mission to hear you beg.

Despite not having kissed him, you can taste him on your lips. His all-encompassing spicy musk intensifies, melting into a subtle syrupy vanilla that clings to your tongue and stirs up a hunger for forbidden fruit. The cherry candy is no match to his natural scent.

“Oh! One more thing. y/n likes it a bit, um, rough when she’s in heat…so just keep that in mind. I’ll be there as soon as possible, dude. 40 minutes tops. Alright, see you then.”

Haechan looks at you, searching for a reaction, but instead, he sees your face contort painfully again.

“Sweetie, look at me.”

You turn your head, now within proximity to count all the pretty moles on his sun-kissed face, like sunflower seeds you’re tempted to taste and swallow by the handful until you’re physically ill.

“Do you want…”

You straighten your back again, a chill running up your spine as Haechan slowly reaches under your skirt. He drags his hand up the inside of your thigh. The tips of his fingers draw through the many lines of slick dripping down your legs.

“…my help?” he finishes in a tone deeper than you knew he could produce.

Your cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment, feeling another mini rush of wetness soak the utterly useless material covering your throbbing core. There’s no denying that you’re incredibly aroused by Haechan. He knows you know he can smell the gush of new slick you involuntarily released.

A strong sexual desire pumps through your veins, driving you up the walls. You’ve always been curious about what it would be like to have the alpha ruin you and use your body like a toy, but you’re not certain how much of that can be attributed to being on the verge of heat. For better or for worse, you decide that that’s a problem for future you to determine, and present you to toss out the window.

Tasting a mere crumb of Haechan’s touch wasn’t enough – you had to swallow him whole, and the only way you could do that is by giving him the pleasure of devouring you first.

“y-yes, please.”

Your answer is so faint that if he were any farther away, he wouldn’t have heard it.

Haechan suppresses a smug smile, pleasantly surprised to get your first “please” this soon after catching up with you.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

His skilled fingers touch where you want him most, grazing over your clothed pussy. Anticipating some kind of pleasured noise, he holds your body close and pops the lollipop inside your mouth.

He scans your surroundings for a place nearby with any additional smidge of privacy. Locating a possible secluded destination, he steers your weak body in the direction of his choice. Haechan snakes a hand up the front of your skirt again, pressing his thick cock against your ass as you stumble forward.

Imagining how dirty you must look turns you on, the debauchery of grinding on someone in broad daylight while they have your skirt flipped up to rub over your wet panties has your vision blurring momentarily. Modesty is nothing but a vague concept in the far off distance, seconds away from disappearing over the horizon.

The next thing you know, your body is pressed against a cool hard surface, bleary eyed and craving the kind of high only a mind blowing orgasm can earn.

You vaguely recognize you’re behind the science building you came out of before Haechan ambushed you, escaping the bright rays of burning sun that were beating down on you by slinking into the secluded shadows with the golden, silky voiced alpha.

Your skirt rides up as he shoves a knee between your legs. He gets a firm grip on your hips as you grind down against his thigh, soaking the material of his skinny jeans, creating a wet spot in the denim with your slick.

“Wow, would you look at that? Baby made a mess all over me already. I bet you wanted that, huh? Rubbing your slick on me so people know you’re fucking two alphas?”

You remove the lollipop to refute his provocative claim. “I-I’m not fucking two alphas.”

“Ha, maybe…not yet, anyways. But you want to. Isn’t that right, y/n?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue rough, throat scratchy like sandpaper. You part your lips to argue with him but nothing comes out. Instead, you insert the lollipop again, sucking on the shrinking round candy, a poor attempt at covering up your original intention.

“Exactly…now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Haechan places your clammy hands on either side of his shoulders to ensure you won’t lose your balance, then he lowers himself to crouch in front of you.

“Hold.” He lifts up your skirt, giving you the bottom hem so he can get down to business.

Haechan’s fingers dig between your clothed folds, feeling your slick leak onto his hand. The thin material pushes into your entrance in an unsatisfying way and you whine.

He tsks his tongue three times, shaking his head. “Just as I suspected.”

You don’t need a reminder of how wet you are, and yet Haechan still brings his hand up for you to see the wet webbing clinging to the tips of his spread fingers anyways. A small embarrassed noise escapes your mouth.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, using his thumb to toy with your clit, “you look so adorable when you’re embarrassed. All rosy-cheeked and messy.”

Haechan slides your panties down your legs and you cooperate by stepping out of them, hands still anchored to his shoulders. He brings them to his face and licks off a great majority of the wetness that seeped out of you, peering into your soul as he does so. Your lips form a slight pout, missing his touch.

“Ha, Mark was right. You are a needy omega,” he teases and pockets your panties like a trophy he’ll proudly keep forever.

“What would Mark say if he saw his precious omega barring her neck for a total stranger?”

You softly moan a bit louder as he curls his fingers just right. Your knees wobble, struggling to stay upright.

The image of the alpha ravaging your body while Mark watches the act unfold, makes it difficult to focus on your surroundings, distracting you from the minor degree of shame in your chest.

You couldn’t care less about your indecent exposure at the moment either – you feel too good to care about anything.

“H-haechan…I want you…want you so fucking bad,” you breathe out, words slightly slurred with the round candy in your mouth.

Haechan’s cock twitches, picturing you in tears, your walls struggling to accommodate him. However, he is aware that behind a school building isn’t the most ideal place to take an omega in heat, especially considering the potency of your heavenly scent, steadily increasing.

Since Mark isn’t here yet, the least he could do is take you inside the building.

Your slick seeps into the frontside of Haechan’s clothes, clinging to his upper body for dear life as he carries you into an empty classroom. He sets you down on the lab table and observes the damage to his clothes.

“i-i’m sorry about that.” You lean back, peering down at your lap, nervously.

“Oh, baby…c’mere.”

Haechan cups over your knees and tilts forward to kiss your neck, sucking a dark hickey right next to your mating mark from his best friend.

“I like collecting these little spots from you.” He pries your thighs apart and draws closer to your bare pussy.

“It’s cute that your body can’t help but mark me somehow.”

He gets on his knees, darts his tongue out to swirl around your clit. His fingers prod your slick core and slide inside you, stroking your sensitive spot skillfully. The breathy noises he’s rewarded with are ones he’ll remember forever.

It’s astonishing how quickly Haechan figures you out.

He’s already in tune with your body, keenly aware of what makes you tick, knowing how to make you quiver and arch your back beautifully.

Not before long, Haechan has you shaking uncontrollably, squeezing your eyes shut, your short stuttered breathing uneven and shallow as your orgasm peaks, and you topple into an abyss of intense pleasure. The lollipop falls out of your open mouth, rolling off the black table.

You might as well be outside, stargazing in the dead of night based on how many constellations and galaxies twinkle and swirl behind your fluttering eyelids.

Haechan doesn’t let up on his efforts to overload your system with a tingly static sensation. Sobbing pathetically, you try to bat him away with what little strength you have, overstimulated and overcome with the sizzling heat frying your nerve endings.

He huffs and retracts his hands, wiping his mouth and the mess of dripping juices on your inner thigh.

“Okay, fine. I won’t touch you anymore!” he tosses his hands up in the air, melodramatic as ever.

“Finally,” you murmur, granted relief to catch your breath for the first time.

You’re heavily panting, linking your fingers together and resting your hands atop your head to allow better airflow into your oxygen deprived lungs. He steps back and studies you like a unique specimen for medical observation.

A few quiet moments pass before the dull cramps creep up inside you, not yet terribly painful but aching in a way that guarantees incoming sharp pains. You whimper for stimulation again, sending puppy dog eyes at Haechan.

“More…please.”

The alpha’s face is painted with mischief, taunting you by reaching for your body then abruptly stepping back to watch you sniffle, and rock back and forth.

Upon noticing your eyes starting to well up with tears, he ultimately gives in. Haechan curls two and then three fingers inside you, opening you up for his throbbing cock.

As much as he’d love to see you cry, he’s under strict instruction to satisfy and take care of you. He can’t threaten to not relieve the effects of your heat and tease you to the point of genuine distress.

“Aww, don’t cry, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You let out a breathy moan and make grabby motions to the tent in his pants.

“Hm, does the cry baby want a knot?” You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “Yeah? Can you use your words? Or is there nothing going up there in that pretty little head of yours?”

He lightly taps your forehead twice, then slides that hand up to tangle in your hair.

You smile, shy and small, and, dare he say, adorable. “You- you think I’m pretty?”

One side of the alpha’s mouth curls up, amused that “pretty” was the only word that you clung onto. He rolls his eyes, teasingly.

“Of course you’re pretty, y/n.” Haechan removes his hand from your hair to take out his thick cock. “And only the prettiest of girls get this.”

With a newly unveiled salivating incentive, you immediately pull yourself together, spine straight as an arrow.

You stare at his shiny, precum-glossy cock with heart eyes, licking your lips as he gives himself a few jerks and produces more pearly droplets from his slit. He pushes you back against the lab table when you try to get to your feet for a taste.

“You can choke on my cock later, princess. I thought you wanted a knot? Or did you change your mind?”

“No! I-I do want it,” you frantically reply.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I really want it, Haechan, really badly.” He raises an eyebrow, expecting more. “Please…please, knot me. I wanna be filled with your cum. I’m begging you…breed me, Alpha.”

Breed me, Alpha rings in Haechan’s ears like wedding bells signifying the everlasting bond of a committed partnership. Hearing your sweet voice desperately begging for his seed, using the dominant title you only ever use with Mark, your real alpha, gets Haechan rock hard.

He savors every second he gets to be your alpha.

Satisfied with your eloquently worded, pitiful plea, he lines himself up. His shiny cockhead glides through your folds before breaching your dripping entrance.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart,” the alpha whispers against your scent gland, his mouth sucking it softly.

You gasp as he drives his hips forward, forcefully pushing against your tiny hole until you’ve accepted his blunt tip, and sucked his fat cock inside.

Mark can smell you the second he drives on campus. He rolls his window down to take another alluring whiff, his right hand just barely gripping the bottom of the steering wheel while his left palms the bulge in his snug jeans, tenting obscenely.

Mind preoccupied, his tunnel vision blinds him from focusing on a single thing besides seeking you out and filling you with loads of cum as soon as possible. He doesn’t recall pulling into the parking lot, getting out of his car, or locking it. All he knows is that, within the blink of an eye, he’s rushed across the campus, his feet landing just outside one of the science labs housed in the same building as your astronomy lecture.

Yanking the door wide open, his wild eyes dart to where his best friend’s knot is locked inside his omega, rubbing your clit so aggressively after your third orgasm that you’re reduced to a twitching mess.

You don’t immediately recognize Mark’s presence, too lost in the intense buzzing sensation to even register that the alpha barged into the room.

Mark slams the door behind him and purposely leaves the door unlocked like Haechan did. There’s a certain reckless thrill that comes with the possibility of getting caught in a compromising position.

In contrast to the way he raced here, driving haphazardly and disobeying traffic laws, Mark slowly crosses the lab room towards your splayed body in a few, brisk strides. He removes his hard cock from his jeans with a lazy smile, stroking himself and licking his lips as you cry out.

Haechan flicks his chin up at Mark, greeting him happily. He makes a show out of pressing a slick-coated finger against your lips to silence you.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta keep it down. You don’t want everyone next door to hear, right? They’d probably say ‘we should go check on whoever’s crying!’ Only to come in here and find their pretty classmate is a dumb little slut…with a cunt full of cum.”

You whine, leading him to push two of his dirty fingers into your mouth to shut you up. His smirks as you mindlessly suck on them like a binkie, shutting your eyes and humming pleasantly.

“She’s so pretty when she cries.”

“I know right?”

Mark makes a growling noise in the back of his throat as he rubs his hand over where he can see the faint outline of Haechan’s thick knot buried inside you, making your abdomen bulge. Both you and Haechan shutter, feeling a tingly sensation from the pressure your boyfriend applies.

“So, how’s she been?”

“Well, she-”

“Mar?” you weakly croak around Haechan’s fingers and he removes them.

“I’m here, y/n, I’m right here.” Mark wipes a lone tear of yours away and caresses your warm cheek. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“I’m…hot.”

“No objection there,” Haechan jokes.

“Why did you send Haechan?” you continue like you didn’t hear the alpha currently plugging you up with cum.

“Oh, y/n. You remember how you were during your last heat.” Mark stops stroking his cock and takes out a tissue to dab away the sheen of sweat on your feverish forehead.

“Actually, you were probably too far gone, huh?”

You blink up at him, tilting your head into his hand when he tries to wipe your cheek. If you’re being honest with yourself, you only recall bits and pieces, and none of those memories are exceptionally vivid.

“I didn’t know it was possible. Like, I looked it up and on average, omegas need to be knotted 5x before their heat breaks. But, y/n, seriously, I lost track of how many times I knotted you and it’s never enough. I couldn’t take care of you throughout all of your heat and it killed me to see you like that and not be able to help you more. You need more than I can give you, princess.”

He offers you a small genuine smile, his hand trailing down to palm at your exposed breast. Mark gently rolls your nipple between his fingers, hearing you quietly purr. “So Haechan was nice enough to agree to help me help you.”

“But Mark-”

“It’s for your own good, y/n,” Mark calmly tells you. “And didn’t Haechan make you feel nice?”

“Um, well, I-”

You gulp, ruminating on how you want to answer, whether you should tell him that another alpha made you feel as amazing as Mark does.

“Wanna tell me what it’s like to have his knot locked inside that tight little pussy of yours? I know you love being full of my cum. What about his cum? I bet you looove getting fucked full of his cum too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I love being full of cum…your cum and-and Haechan’s cum.”

Mark smiles at your response and rewards you by pinching your perky nipple. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.”

You whine when Haechan wiggles his mostly deflated cock out of your tight core. “You really weren't lying when you said she gets super wet.”

“Hm, let me feel.” He hums, looking closer and dipping his fingers inside the dripping combination of your fluids.

Mark widens his nostrils and takes in the aroma of Haechan’s cum mixed in with your juices, his eyes flashing blood red.

It’s unfamiliar and vaguely off putting to smell his mate has been violated and fucked open by another alpha. Although, overall, the dominant sensation coursing through Mark is arousal, turned on by the thought of sharing your body.

“Nah, man. It gets worse, you’ll see. Her heat hasn’t even peaked yet.”

Mark addresses Haechan like you aren’t even here. To be fair though, during your heat you’re not all here anyways.

“W-worse?”

“By the end of her last heat, she had so much fucking cum in her, I don’t know where it was all going.”

“Ha, we got ourselves a little cum dumpster here,” Haechan snickers, sliding his fingers inside your cum dribbling cunt again.

With such an overflowing amount of slick and cum, if someone told you that the obscene squelching that fills the room is a soundbite from some high quality pornography, you wouldn’t doubt it. You croon as he curls them up just right, taking a moment to stimulate your most sensitive spot skillfully.

He retracts them sooner than you’d prefer and brings his fingers to your mouth. “Suck.”

A fat droplet falls on your bottom lip.

Mark rubs slow, comforting circles over your abdomen. “Go ahead, baby,” he encourages, leaning down to suckle on your neglected bud.

Earning Mark’s blessing, you obediently suck your own berry wetness and Haechan’s cum off of the alpha’s fingers.

“God, what a filthy slut,” he says once you’ve fulfilled his wish. “She gives in so easily, she’d do anything to get another load of cum.”

A weak sound of protest weasels up the back of your throat, disagreeing with the term he used to describe you. You expect Mark to disagree with his best friend’s crude statement, but he shockingly does the opposite.

“Tell me about it, dude. The whole time she’s always begging for a knot and more cum. I know a lot of omegas beg in the middle of their heat…”

Mark pets your head gently for a second, then snakes his fingers into your hair, giving it a brief yank.

If you weren’t on the precipice of your heat hitting full force, his sudden action would’ve caused you a decent amount of pain. But by now, your aching body welcomes any form of touch – the rougher the better. The demeaning terms trigger strobing excitement inside you.

“…but with y/n, it’s like where did my sweet omega go? Who’s this needy cumslut?”

Your bottom lip quivers, internally conflicted by your budding arousal. Mark looks down at you with pity in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying it to be mean, I’m just telling the truth. You don’t know what it’s like trying to take care of you.”

You whine softly, your foggy emotional state making you feel guilty, even if the fraction of you that’s still of sober mind knows that you have nothing to feel guilty for. The seeds of insecurity take root in your head, questioning if he secretly resents being with you, if you’re too much of a burden that he wishes he wasn’t your alpha.

Mark reads the emotional turmoil brewing on your precious face, and to soothe the distress, he quickly leans over to kiss it away. He kisses down your face, lips lightly kissing your forehead twice, between your eyebrows, the tip of your nose and finally to your lips, much gentler than the hand responsible for the arousing sting on your scalp. Mark tastes the other alpha and grins anyways.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about it, y/n.” He brushes a few stray tears away from where they began to spill from the corners of your wide, glossy eyes. “I just wanna make sure you’re well taken care of this time.”

“Even without you, I can take care of myself well enough,” you sniffle, lying through your teeth, fooling no one, not even yourself.

Your hand twitches, wanting to prove a point but hesitating because you're not used to being watched by two sets of eyes.

“Go ahead and touch yourself, princess. I know you want to,” Mark tells you.

“R-really? Like, um…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “...in front of him too?”

You sneak a glance at Haechan, who, by the looks of it, is about ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole any second now. You vaguely remember wanting him to do so not too long ago in your most fuzzy heated state.

“Yes, in front of me and Haechan.”

“Aw, sweetheart. I just fucked your pretty cunt and yet you still feel embarrassed?” Haechan pouts in mock sympathy. “That’s adorable.”

Mark exchanges a look with his best friend before turning back to you. “Be a good girl for me and demonstrate how you used to do it before we met. You can do that, right, babe?”

An adoring smile reaches his lips, eyes locking with yours. You could try to deny the lewd act, but above all else, you want to please your alpha.

Mark wants you to be a good girl, and that is exactly what you will be. You gulp, releasing a shaky sigh, and nodding timidly. Your mouth twitches up to mirror his sincere smile as best as you can manage.

“That’s my girl,” Mark beams.

Mark knows how to comfort you, pushing two fingers into your mouth to give you something to wrap your lips around. He gently cups the back of your hand and guides it lower while you’re pleasantly suckling.

You tilt back, propping your upper body up by extending your left hand behind your back. Folding your spread legs up and planting your heals on the edge of the wide black lab table, exposing your throbbing cunt to the alphas.

You trace your fingers through your folds, rimming your freshly used entrance before sliding two of them inside, moaning around Mark’s fingers as you follow his instructions.

Muscle memory of touching yourself on a frequent basis over the years takes charge, and within seconds, you locate your weak spot.

“There you go. Good girl.”

You mewl, your legs trembling every so often as you draw your fingers up to stimulate your clit. The muscles in your face are equally as prone to a visceral jumpy reaction as your lower half is.

Craving more, you lay your upper body back against the table, and switch hands to curl your left fingers in your abused pussy and rub quick circles over the hood of your clit, stroking up and down to stimulate every nerve around the electrifying spot.

“M-mar…” you whimper, drool trailing from your stuffed mouth. “Fuck-fuck me. Please, I n-need your cum now.”

Mark bestows a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “How about you show me how bad you want it, eh?”

You hop off the table and lower to your knees obediently, folding your legs underneath you and sitting back on your feet, hands placed flat on your thighs, spine arched to show the round curve of your ass.

Haechan whistles. “You sure did train her well.”

“Nah, man. y/n didn’t need training. She’s just a perfect omega.” Mark smiles, happy to show you off. He pets your head as you start to squirm and quietly whimper.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You part your lips, holding your tongue out to catch the spit that falls from Mark’s mouth. He hums, approvingly, watching you swallow it and open your mouth again. He pauses for a second before flicking his chin at Haechan.

“You want Haechan’s spit too?”

You glance at Haechan and release an affirmative noise a second later. Your core aches for further rough filling again. You rub your slippery thighs together, feeling more slick gush from your throbbing pussy, increasingly aroused when Haechan steps up to the plate.

He lets a string of saliva dangle from his tongue, slowly dripping into your mouth, and partially dribbling down your chin intentionally, simply because he wants to make a mess of your pretty face.

You're about to wrap your lips around Mark’s cockhead when all of a sudden, the sharpest pain stabs your abdomen. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, crumpling into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut, and nearly blacking out.

Mark kneels down and rubs your shoulder, lifting your head to look you square in the face. Worry colors his sharp features and shatters the heated, public pornographic fantasy.

“Shit. y/n’s cramps usually subside for an hour or so after getting a knot,” he mutters to Haechan. “I didn’t want to do this…but I don’t think we have much of a choice now…”

[hint for pt 2]

additional warnings: double penetration, spitroasting, oral (fem & male), face sitting, throat fucking, choking, somnophilia, squirting, sex toys, nipple play...i think that's it.

it’s 2023.

why did it take me this fucking long to write markhyuck x yn ?? i said i’d write for this pairing in FEB 20 FUCKING 21.

sorry for not posting in forever. since spring, i've been going through the trial and error phase of finding the right combination of medications for my fucked mental health 4x, and one of the biggest side effects i've experienced on all of them has been a loss of interest in things that used to excite me, which includes writing. that, paired with the lingering effects of long covid, has made it so that when i sit down to write, i often feel like i'm fighting with my own brain to construct a single linear thought.

the #1 motivation for writers is feedback and interaction. for me, knowing people enjoy my works and appreciate the time i put into something has a huge impact. i'd be really grateful if you shared this by giving it a reblog and would love to see you spam your thoughts/reactions in the tags or comments!

pt 2 is written out already, it just needs to be proofread. now...i'm not saying i WON'T post it next weekend, but comments, reblogs and feedback would definitely inspire me to finish it up on time.

okay 'tis all. thank you for reading and i hope you (yes, specifically YOU, beloved reader of mine who's reading this RIGHT NOW !) are doing well:))

stream 127's *FACT CHECK*

➾my masterlist

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smileyerim · 1 year

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hey guess what drunk again thinkin about mark lee. send me angst so I can no longer get drunk and think about mark lee

#mark leexreader #mark lee fics #mark lee fic #autumn is drunk and loves mark lee

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sluttyten · 1 year

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UNHOLY - Chapter Eleven

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut, threesome, double penetration, poly negotiations, angst

length: 9,263

summary: you explore the house of the watchers

<-previous || next–>

The House of the Watchers must be endless. The halls wind in infinite paths, the odd clinking and clanging sounds echo from a distance no matter how quickly you walk towards them. Even when you, Mark, and WinWin reach the main corridor of the ground floor, it extends in either direction as far as you can see.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Mark says, raking his fingers through his hair. Instinctively you reach for his hand, pulling it away from his hair like you’d done several times over the past stressful week. “How can something this big even exist?”

“Have you seen the underground of Hell City?” WinWin asks rhetorically. “That place is fucking huge too. It shouldn’t make sense either. All of this, everything in our world is made by magic. It doesn’t have to make sense.” He glances quickly down at your fingers tangled with Mark’s.

You quickly loosen your hold, stepping away from both of them to figure out which direction you want to go.

You’re almost certain that heading to the right will eventually spit you back out in the entrance hall, so heading left will take you even deeper into this maze-like manor. You feel the cold almost-brush of Mark’s arm beside yours, radiating a chill from his skin as he steps up beside you.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“I think we should go that way.” You point to the left.

“And what exactly are we looking for?” WinWin keeps his voice low, glancing around even though you can’t even see any Watchers along this long stretch of hallway, though to be fair there could be hundreds of them tucked behind the many doors that lead off of this single hall.

You shrug. “We’re just looking. To see what we can see.”

Behind you, on the stairs that the three of you descended just a moment ago, comes the whisper of footsteps.

A pair of Watchers in white robes appear. Both have their hoods drawn up over their heads, and one carries a stack of books while the other has his arms full with an odd assortment of metal scraps, a bag of broken glass, a couple precariously perched beakers filled with oddly colored solutions, and a single potted plant with tendrils that have wound their way over the Watcher’s shoulders and neck like a child holding on. The pair of them don’t spare your trio a glance. They just immediately turn off the stairs and head left, exactly as you’d intended to do.

“Should we follow them?” Mark asks, whispering now.

“It’s not following. We happen to be going that direction too,” WinWin says, and immediately he marches off behind the Watchers.

You must admit, if this little adventure you’re on to explore the Watchers’ House is meant to sate your curiosity, following these two Watchers seems like a good place to start.

They’re quietly conversing as they walk a short distance ahead of the three of you. You can’t make out anything more than the low rumble of their voices. It doesn’t help that Mark has begun nervously talking beside you, commenting on the tapestries and portraits that fill the walls in between the doorways here. WinWin is just ahead of you, his head cocked slightly to the side, his gaze trained on the two Watchers in front of him, so maybe he is eavesdropping on them.

They take a sudden right turn, climbing up a narrow staircase that emerges in a corridor that is filled with sunlight, bright enough to cast its light down to the hallway you’re standing in. The burbling sound of voices comes down with the light.

WinWin turns at the base of the stairs, checking to make sure that you and Mark are still behind him. “Do we go that way?”

You shrug. “Sure, let’s see what they’re up to.”

You take the lead now, though WinWin sticks as close as your shadow, Mark trailing behind. The sunlight is warm against your skin, reminding you of a blazing summer day. You recall late spring and early summer days during middle school; the way the light would pour in through the big windows in the classroom to stretch like a lazy cat over your desk, pulling you inevitably towards sleepiness. That’s what this feels like. The same still air of your schooldays, filled with drowsy-making elements.

You blink as you emerge fully, stepping up into the corridor. Clear panes of glass run along the wall ahead of you in either direction. The windows here almost all look out over the forest and a section of the gardens you’d passed through on your intrusion into the House. Some of them look out over grassy green plains of tall grass waving in the breeze. Others look out on a regular university campus caught in the midst of autumn colors — all burnished reds, bronzes, and muddy grays. You walk closer to the window right in front of you, one looking out on a grassy plain.

In the distance you can see shadowy mountains, hazy from the distance. Closer at hand, a group of people ride on horses, though they’re still too far away to actually make out any features. You watch their progress until a bird soaring overhead distracts you, soaring from one edge of the window pane to the next before it vanishes, the sight of it swallowed by the change in view of the next window back to the forest outside the House of the Watchers.

“What are you looking at?” WinWin asks, “Come on, before we lose sight of them.”

You pull your gaze away from the spectacle of the windows back to the sunlit corridor. The two Watchers have joined a group of a few more white-robed men, all of them carrying a variety of objects. They’re vanishing beneath an archway some distance down the way, after which the corridor shifts into a darker, woodier style, almost gothic.

Mark walks closer to the wall, squinting against the brightness of the pure sunlight.

That’s something you forget about. The sunlight-sensitivity aspect of his vampirism. It doesn’t burn him or make him sparkle (which is just a ridiculous twist on the legend, you think), but his eyes are sensitive in unfiltered total daylight. Dawn and dusk are fine, since he’d clearly enjoyed the sunrise just this morning.

“Here,” you say, manifesting quickly a pair of sunglasses for Mark. You pass them over to him. “These should help; they’ll adjust to the light levels for you.”

Mark accepts them, turning them over in his hands to get a look at them before he quickly slips them on. The lenses in the round black frames have already darkened to a near-blackout tint. “That’s perfect.” Mark pushes them up his nose, adjusting them against his ears slightly. “You manifest some insane shit, you know that?”

Is it really that impressive? They’re transition lenses; you knew people from your hometown who wore those all the time.

“Yeah, well, they look good on you.” You watch for a moment as Mark fidgets with them again as the three of you pass beneath the archway into the darker section of the corridor. The lenses in his glasses smoothly transition from black to clear, and he looks just like he’s wearing a pair of regular glasses.

“You look like a dork, don’t let her lie to you like that.” WinWin brushes between you and Mark, knocking into the vampire slightly. His arm swings around your shoulder, bringing you along with him as he keeps walking forward, following the sound of the Watchers’ voices. Mark hisses something under his breath that you can’t understand, and WinWin only tightens his arm around you in response.

You pass by several open doorways as you follow the voices. There’s a rectangular wood-paneled room with a roaring fireplace, a billiards table, armchairs, and air with the lingering scent of cigars. One room is just filled with plants, and a couple white-robed Watchers roam between the luscious greenery. Several of the rooms just appear dusty and dim and otherwise empty.

It’s only when you finally catch up with the small group of Watchers you’ve been trailing that you find a room that is truly occupied.

This open door leads into a large room with lofty ceilings and windows that pour more of that clear golden sunlight into the room. There are tables positioned in a semicircle around a podium, white-robed Watchers fill in around the tables as a black-robed Watcher stands behind the podium. As you, WinWin, and Mark gather in the doorway, you realize that what you’re looking at is a classroom. Likely, it’s some sort of a lab.

The Watchers drop their hoods, revealing youthful faces around the classroom. Books are piled on the tables, the odd metal scraps and glass fragments and plants and such are laid out carefully. They’re clearly students, you realize.

The black-robed Watcher begins to speak, getting out only the words, “Today, brothers, we will be—” before he cuts himself short. His still-hooded head turns toward the doorway. You don’t have to be able to see his face to imagine the twist of his facial features, particularly since his tone gets the point across clear enough as he says, “Begone, vermin. These lessons aren’t for the likes of you.”

A force presses against your chest, forcing you and the men on either side of you, back out through the doorway. The heavy wooden door slams shut in your face.

“That was rude.” WinWin looks like he’s ready to reach for the doorknob and force his way back into the room, but you quickly grab his hand, pulling it back down, holding it between both of yours.

“Maybe we should move on. If this is a school too, then there’s definitely got to be a library, right? Maybe we’ll find some stuff there, information on whatever deal Yuta and Ten broke.” You look down the corridor, noticing that it opens up ahead into a separate space. “That way.”

WinWin clasps your hand in his, and you can feel the pulsing heat of his temper, the twitching of his muscles. He stalks along angrily beside you, his long legs carrying him faster than you can almost keep up with, so you’re racing along beside him. He’s irritated, on edge around the Watchers. Not that you can blame him. That one had just referred to the three of you as vermin.

You begin to realize that many of the doors you’re passing by are classrooms, either the empty dim ones, or the ones with closed doors that you can actually hear muffled voices behind if you listen closely. Once you reach the end of the corridor, a staircase winds around the square space, rising high up above you and down several floors even though you’re fairly certain that you should only be on the first or second floor up from the ground. Here, too, is evidence of this being a school.

A directory stands on the wall, arrows pointing back down the corridor you’ve just come from, more pointing up the next flight of stairs, some pointing down, and a few more pointing towards the continuation of the corridor ahead.

“Why can’t they have signposts like this all over this place?” WinWin asks, studying the sign. “It would help to not get lost in the maze.”

Even as you’re watching, the words and arrows begin to shuffle. The arrow beside the words ‘Portal Science’ spins in a wild circle; it began pointing right, back the direction you’ve come from but when it at last comes to a halt, it’s pointing upwards. The ‘Language Studies’ arrow now points right, the ‘Combat Training’ arrow points down, and the ‘Library’ arrow points upwards.

Mark snorts. “That would just be too easy if they had them everywhere.” He taps the arrow beside Library. “Are we going up?”

Of course you’re going up.

It isn’t just the pursuit of knowledge that leads you upwards seeking the library. You’re curious about the entirety of the House of the Watchers. The architectural style is fascinating, especially the way that the different styles seem to blend seamlessly, shifting from gothic to Victorian to almost modern in some places. As you climb the staircase to the next floor, your feet tread in the dips of the well-traveled stone stairs, your fingers run along the marble balustrade, which is discolored and worn in spots from the hands of the many passersby over the ages. This at least is a sign that even here time passes, even where the immortal Watchers reside, there is something that wears away over time.

“It makes sense that this is a school,” WinWin says as he climbs the stairs right behind you. “If all the Watchers are here, isn’t this where they would train the young ones? But how do they even have young ones? Aren’t they all men?”

Mark clears his throat. “The encyclopedia had an explanation for that, but you never wanted to read it.”

WinWin growls softly.

“Watchers aren’t born,” Mark explains. “They’re made.”

You vaguely recall reading that part of the passage. It had been at the very beginning, and all of the more interesting stuff had been listed deeper inside the columns dedicated to the Watchers, so you’d focused more of your attention there. You’re pretty sure the encyclopedia hadn’t gone into much deeper detail than that, so maybe that’s something else you’ll be able to learn in the library.

It takes climbing up another two levels before the signpost’s arrow for the library points to the left instead of up.

You feel the pull – the lure of the library, quickening your pace as you turn down the hallway to the left of the landing.

“Wait up,” WinWin calls, but you’re rushing ahead.

Eager to find the treasury of Watcher knowledge, you turn another corner, and you run headlong into someone, bowling them over completely. You’re sprawled over this person, all tangled up together in limbs and too-flowy clothing, when Mark and WinWin catch up.

You’re struggling, truthfully, to detach yourself from this other person. WinWin hooks his fingers into the back of your shirt, and with a careful yank, he hauls you up, sitting you back down flat on your feet. He keeps his one hand safely twisted in the back of your shirt, his other arm circles around your waist like an iron bar. Mark steps halfway in front of you.

Renjun, demure as ever, still lies sprawled on the ground where you’d knocked him. His strange eyes flicker back and forth between silver and hazel as his emotions fly.

“You again,” WinWin complains through gritted teeth.

Mark doesn’t speak, but his stance says it all. Teeth slightly bared, one arm stretched out towards you, and he’s hunched forward over Renjun partially.

“Both of you, stop.” You shove at WinWin’s arm around your waist, which he drops, but he doesn’t let go of your shirt. “I ran into him, it’s not like he attacked me or anything. Back off.”

Mark and WinWin both continue eyeing the odd silvery-eyed young man with suspicion.

You reach down, holding out your hand in peace to Renjun. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. Renjun clasps your proffered hand, accepting the help in getting to his feet with a kind smile. You smile in return, releasing his hand once he’s upright, and you continue with, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and I shouldn’t have been running.”

“Where were you running to, if you don’t mind me asking?” Renjun asks, brushing the dust off his clothes. He glances between your face, WinWin’s, and Mark’s.

“We were looking for the library.”

WinWin pinches your arm, hissing a quiet, “Don’t!”

“Oh, stop it, would you?” You twist around to face WinWin. “What does it hurt for him to know that we’re looking for the library? It’s not illegal, we’re doing nothing wrong, and even if we were, do you think he would tattle on us to a Watcher?”

WinWin folds his arms across his chest, staring down at you, and then glaring over at Renjun. “I don’t know what he would do. But I don’t like the idea of any of them knowing what we’re doing.”

At that, Renjun snorts out a laugh. “Sorry, but they definitely do have someone keeping an eye on the three of you. You’re strangers in the House. A vampire? A werewolf? They don’t trust you or even like you.” He points back over his shoulder. “But if you’re looking for the library, it’s right there, the double doors down the hall. I won’t stop you. Or inform on you.” The last part he directs at WinWin, stepping out of the way.

Mark makes a small disgruntled noise, but he walks around Renjun, heading in the direction of the library. WinWin follows too, though he loops his fingers around your wrist and attempts to pull you along after him.

You do your best to linger behind a moment. “Thank you, Renjun. And, again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no problem. And if you need any help with anything else, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He smiles, a sweet expression that makes you smile too.

You appreciate the offer of help, but of course, finding him would be the difficult part of that. Renjun waves goodbye, and then he disappears down the hallway towards the stairs. You catch up with WinWin, who only shakes his head at your friendliness with the young man that he doesn’t trust. Mark is already several feet ahead, pushing open the double doors that lead into the library.

As a child your parents had tried their very best to steer you clear of media that contained magic, but for a little girl Disney movies were almost inevitable. Sleepovers, school, good-intentioned babysitters had introduced Disney princesses into your life. Beauty and the Beast had been your favorite. The fantastic castle with its living furniture, the Beast trying to show human manners, Belle with her beautiful yellow gown, you’d been enchanted by the story and the animation. There had been no part of the movie that you loved more than the library reveal.

That library had shown up in your dreams several times when you were in a reading phase, devouring books like it was your job. The library in the movie was enormous, decorative, everything that you could want.

Stepping in through the doors of the Watchers’ library makes you feel like you’re in the Beast’s library at last. It is absolutely enormous; soaring ceilings at least forty feet high, massive floor to ceiling windows that flood the room with that absurdly pure sunlight. There’s a roaring fireplace big enough to probably fit your entire apartment back in your hometown, and there are a variety of cushiony chairs and sofas, reading tables and a table for books that need to be reshelved sitting in front of the fire. Narrow staircases and balconies and sliding ladders are visible all around the room. There’s a globe, which at the present moment has several Watchers surrounding it, observing small glowing marks that move across its surface. The floors are polished so well that it makes the library seem even larger, as if it extends downwards too, reflected so perfectly.

Your awe-filled gasp captures Mark’s attention. He turns to look at you with worry, mistaking your awe-filled gasp as a reason for panic before he sees the starry way you’re drinking in the room.

To the left and the right, the library has wings filled with shelves on the floor as well as rising up towards the ceiling. You can see Watchers milling through the rows and around on the stairs above.

“Where do we even begin?” You sigh, stepping into the room. The scent of the books, of the fire, of something sweet and romantic, swells around you, drawing you even further into the room. “Maybe we should split up?”

You don’t even realize you’ve been whispering until Mark touches your elbow, and while pointing towards the left wing of the library, he also whispers, “I’ll look over here. Anything interesting I’ll bring to, uh, this table.” He points towards an unoccupied table in front of the fireplace. “But we might be here for….”

“Forever,” WinWin finishes for him.

Eagerly, you nearly skip across the gleaming floor towards the right wing. You’re unsurprised when WinWin follows.

“I don’t know what we’re looking for exactly,” he murmurs when you twist to look at him. “So I figure, I’ll just stick with you.”

You reach for WinWin’s hand, and you lace your fingers through his. “I’m not exactly sure what we’re looking for either,” you admit, “But I’ll know it when I see it.”

What you want to find is answers. Why are Yuta and Ten really being imprisoned? What was the accord? How did they break it? Maybe you’ll find a history of the Watchers book, or a demon history book. Something like that that will clearly lay out the answers for you.

WinWin quietly walks alongside you, holding your hand, glancing at the shelves as they rise up around you and him. You’re dwarfed by the sheer size and amount of books around you, and you think even WinWin must feel the oppressive weight of all of that knowledge around you. He clears his throat, lifting your entwined hands up so he can kiss the back of yours. You halfway ignore him, though your heart flutters as you face the shelves, scanning the titles on the spines of all of these books.

“You know I’ve never spent much time in libraries.” WinWin’s words are soft, meant only for your ears, not for the Watcher who enters this aisle behind you. “In Hell City, I visited the library there maybe a handful of times over my whole life, never for very long. Books don’t hold a whole lot of interest for me, especially not ones like I’m sure you find here, the research, boring ones. But there was one day when I was passing by the HELP (Hell on Earth Library of the Public), shortly after you came back to the city, and I — this is kinda embarrassing to admit, honestly — I caught your scent heading inside, so I went in. At this point, I already knew how I feel about you, but you were with Yuta and Ten, wanting nothing to do with me. But I, uh, watched you.”

That pulls your attention away from the books. You glance sideways at him, still trying to look like you’re browsing, but that’s a bit difficult because you also want to just look at him.

WinWin looks surprisingly sheepish as he admits this. He lifts a hand to touch the back of his head, throwing a surreptitious look at you from beneath his eyelashes. “It sounds creepier than it is. You just looked pretty there among all the books, browsing the shelves. And you had this little line right here.” He touches a finger to the spot between your eyebrows. “And you kept biting your lip.” The finger drops down to brush over your bottom lip. “Your hair kept falling in front of your face and you would blow a bit of air out the side of your mouth to try to shift the hair away. It was cute, you were pretty, and I was so jealous that you weren’t mine.

“Damn,” WinWin sighs, “I’m still jealous. “I really, really like you. I feel like I deserve to have something good in my life, and I desperately want that something good to be you. Even with Yuta and Ten because they’re something good too, just in a different way.”

You’ve abandoned your browsing of the shelves entirely. Your gaze is locked on WinWin’s face. His fingers still linger at your lips, his other hand is twisted with yours. You’ve turned to face him, taken a half step closer to him.

“I already told you that the three of us already agreed that you’re welcome to join.” You whisper, leaning up on your toes a little. WinWin is so tall, which you’ve noticed before but right now, as you’re trying to keep your voice low, you notice it even more. You press a hand to his shoulders, lifting onto your toes as he dips his head so when you whisper your lips are closer to his ear. “I want to be good for you, WinWin.”

“Fuck.” His fingers on your lip slip, dipping along your jaw, curling beneath your chin. You press up on your toes just that little bit more, turning your head to kiss WinWin.

His hand previously entwined with yours falls away, instead he wraps his arm around your waist, his fingers pressing against your hip.

It’s not a big kiss. Not dramatic. It’s hardly more than a press of your lips, but you swear WinWin is about to lose it over the kiss. You can imagine it now: him pressing you back against one of these shelves, hiking your legs up around his waist, his lips and tongue working magic against yours until you’re whimpering and moaning loud enough that every Watcher and Mark in this library can hear you. You think of getting fucked here like that, and it brings you back to the last time you got fucked — an alley in the underside of Hell City, Yuta first, Ten after.

In the present, you fall back flat into your feet, putting a little space between you and WinWin.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, turning your back to him, running a hand over your face, pushing back a few loose hairs that tickle against your suddenly very warm face. “We need to be looking at the books. Focus.”

WinWin laughs softly, a gentle hand touching the small of your back. “Focus, right.”

That’s hard to do. You’re being hit on two sides with distractions — the memory of Yuta and Ten in the alley, paired with the sadness and panic that had followed, and on the other side are your fantasies and hot-blooded desire for WinWin.

“Focus,” you repeat, shaking your head and walking away from him a little bit.

WinWin stays at the section of the aisle where you left him. He tips his head back to scan the book titles on the higher shelves. You move a short distance away, close enough that if either of you spoke the other would hear it. A Watcher still stands at the end of the aisle, his black hood obscuring his face, his fingers run along the book spines. He occasionally pulls one off a shelf, flipping it open to search for something. His search appears as fruitless as your own.

Long after you’ve gotten sucked deep into your focused search, the three of you remain in this aisle. You’ve found a few titles that seemed interesting if not promising, and they’re stacked together midway down the aisle. WinWin has a smaller stack beside himself.

“Should we go find Mark?” WinWin asks after a long while. He’s holding his stack along with half of yours. “Maybe actually check through these books?”

You agree, carefully lifting your stack of books. Some of them seem fragile and ancient, the binding crumbling where you touch it. You leave that aisle behind, heading for the table beside the fireplace where Mark is already sitting behind a barrier of open books. He’s still wearing the glasses you gave him earlier, and they do give him a studious look, but you like it.

As you place your books down on the table alongside his, you glance over your shoulder, and realize that the Watcher from the aisle has followed you out of it. He’s not trailing you to the table, but he is standing several feet away, trying to look nonchalant as he studies a star map that decorates the end of one row of shelves. It’s definitely the same one; you can just tell, and it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that he followed you and WinWin into the aisle and out of it as well.

A few of the white-cloaked, young Watchers sit at the other tables and in the comfy chairs surrounding this massive fireplace. You notice some of them throwing strange looks in the direction of your table, but none of them say anything. There are more of the Watchers in black sitting around here as well, and they also occasionally twitch their hoods in your direction. For the most part, you’re left alone and ignored as you and the two men begin digging through the tomes you’ve gathered.

At the opposite end of the fireplace, there’s a table of the young Watchers in their white cloaks. They’ve been whispering and quietly laughing the whole time you’ve been sitting here, reminding you a lot of university-aged boys who spend more time goofing off than actually studying. You do your best to ignore them until suddenly a few of them are standing, the laughter a little louder.

You lift your gaze from a page about a Watcher treatise with sirens to see that the boys are walking towards your table. And boys is an apt description; these Watchers are smooth-cheeked and bright-eyed, their faces are still a little round and soft, glowing with youth. They have a mischievous look, which should have been your first tip off.

Just as you open your mouth to say something to Mark and WinWin, the young Watcher in the lead, reaches out.

His hand catches fast in the collar of Mark’s shirt. He hauls Mark out of his seat, throwing him down onto the ground, planting a foot on Mark’s chest.

Immediately, you and WinWin are both on your feet. WinWin’s growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating an echo around the room. Your flames burst to the surface, flickering just across your skin — enough to be a threat, but not enough to let an errant spark set the whole library ablaze.

“What do you think you’re doing touching our books, leech?” The Watcher sneers down at Mark, grinding his heel down against Mark’s chest.

“We’re reading them, you dolt,” WinWin growls, a snarl ripping out from behind his teeth. “What the fuck do you think we’re doing with them?”

One of the others steps around where Mark is pinned to the ground, eyes red and burning with fury. This new big-headed Watcher slaps his hands down on the table, leering at WinWin as he brings his face dangerously close to the werewolf’s. “Didn’t know a dog could read. What other tricks can you do, mongrel?”

Mark hisses, his fingers twisting in the clean fabric of the Watcher’s robe, trying to shift the foot off his chest. WinWin’s fingers twist into claws, digging against the polished mahogany of the table, looking as if he’s about to leap across the table at the Watcher.

You let your flames fan a little higher, finally drawing the attention of the small group to you now. You can see your flames flickering, reflected in their eyes. There is fear and awe and contempt in equally confusing measures displayed on their faces. A wave of heat pushes out from you, fluttering the thin pages of the books displayed in front of you. One particularly fragile book’s pages even curl and blacken slightly on the edges.

“And you–” The one pinning Mark to the ground sneers at you now, his ugly face twisting. “You demon-loving, twisted little bitch.”

The next few seconds are a total blur in response to his insolence.

You can’t decide if the roaring in your ears is a result of your pulse and shock, if it’s actually the sound coming from Mark and WinWin together, or if it’s the sound of your flames growing and stretching out their blazing tendrils to sock the bastard right in his ugly face.

All you know is that when the furious haze clears from in front of your eyes a few seconds later, the Watcher is the one on his back, his hands covering his face as he writhes in pain. Mark stands above him, bloody eyed and his fangs out. WinWin has knocked over the chair behind him, and the Watcher who had been in his face is crouching beneath the table.

A black-robed Watcher stands beside you, his hand outstretched. Neither Mark nor WinWin so much as twitches, and it’s then that you realize the Watcher has somehow spelled them into stillness. You can almost see the invisible paralytic tendrils stretching from the Watcher’s fingertips towards the vampire and the werewolf. The way he stands and holds himself, you can once again tell it’s the same Watcher that had been in the aisle with you and WinWin.

“Get up,” he says sharply. The two young Watchers scramble to their feet, running back off to their table, to the safety of their friends. With a wave of one hand, the Watcher sends all of the books that you had piled on your table off now to the table meant for reshelving. With his other hand, he gestures back towards the doors of the library. “Please, remove yourselves.”

“We didn’t start it,” you argue, bristling with anger since neither WinWin nor Mark seem able to. “Those ones over there –”

“I’m well aware. Please, leave.” He gestures again towards the door.

Mark straightens, fangs still fully on display as he looks around at the other Watchers who still stare at the three of you. WinWin stalks away without a backwards glance, his hands clenched into fists, and his whole body trembles with barely restrained rage. You know that he wants to tear the Watchers limb from limb, not for them ridiculing him as a dog, but for what they said about you, how they treated Mark.

“Let’s go, Mark.” He doesn’t budge from his spot, not until you walk around the table and grab his shirtsleeve, pulling at it. Even as you walk away from the table, from the Watchers before the fireplace, and the cluster of Watchers who turn and stare from their positions around the globe display, Mark glares at all of them, pacing along behind you, looking backwards.

It’s only once the double doors of the library have closed behind you, thrown back out into the less glamorous state of the hallway that you feel like you can breathe again.

WinWin stands with his back against the wall opposite the doors, arms folded across his chest, and a sour look on his face.

Mark shakes your hand off, and immediately he walks away.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“I don’t know. Away.”

He spits over his shoulder, and he keeps going, heading deeper down the hallway instead of back the way you’ve come.

WinWin steps forward to stop you following him. “Let him be for a bit. He’s angry and just needs some time to cool off,” he explains.

“We’re all angry, WinWin. They were being dickbags in there.” You throw a hand up, gesturing back towards the library doors. You hope your voice is loud enough to carry through the thick wood and echo around the vast library for all of them to hear.

That draws a smirk from WinWin, amused even as he tells you, “I think he’s a little more than angry too. Mark might be embarrassed.” At your puzzled expression, he says, “Mark’s a tough guy. Head of his coven, boss of half of the Hell City underground. He doesn’t usually experience anyone besting him in anything, not like that. Not picked up, thrown down, and pinned to the ground while being ridiculed. Especially not in front of you. So he’s probably a little embarrassed. I know I would be.”

Oh.

“Right. Maybe we should let him cool off for a while.” You feel your shoulders relax, though you didn’t realize how tense you were holding them. You exhale, bringing your hands up to your hair to just massage your scalp a little in an attempt to ease the slight headache that’s suddenly taken root. Your hands and arms still tingle from your flames, and for the first time you look down at yourself.

The sleeves of your top are burnt, singed in some places and completely gone in others. “Damn it,” you grumble. “I ruined it already.”

“I kinda like it.” WinWin steps up to your side, sliding a hand against your waist. “A little sexy, a little dangerous.”

You bump him away with your hip. “Stop. I look ragged.”

“No, you don’t. You’re always pretty.” WinWin drapes his arm over your shoulders, spinning you around with him to head back down the hallway towards the stairs. “Trust me, princess, I’ve seen you in a lot worse of a state than you are right now, and you were still insanely attractive.” He looks down at you, gaze slipping down your frame.

You know he’s talking about you during his rut, when you’d been dick-drunk, sweaty and naked, covered in hickeys and some minor bruising, both of you wearing scratches from the other. Your face goes a bit warm at the memory, and a slumbering beast in your belly stirs a little.

Deciding that changing the subject is probably the safest route, you say, “How’s Mark going to find his way back to us? Or how are we going to find him?”

“I’ll be able to track him if he doesn’t show up in a bit.” WinWin taps his nose. You open your mouth, and WinWin cuts you off quickly. “No, I can’t smell them here. Before you ask. Yuta and Ten’s scents were out in the garden, but here in the house it’s too muddled, too old. I can’t tell where they are, but I think you were right last night for sure. They’re somewhere in this house, but I can’t tell exactly where.”

“Do you think if we got close, you’d be able to tell?” Suddenly, you have a hope like a tiny spark in the desolate darkness of the past several days.

WinWin shrugs. “Maybe. But we can try.”

Truly, the House of the Watchers is absolutely massive and fully nonsensical in terms of architecture and continuity and obeying the laws of space. You and WinWin descend the series of stairs. You find the intersecting hallway that you and Renjun had passed through just this morning, the one filled with rainbow light, although two of the halls branching off of it are different than they’d been earlier. You pass workshop rooms that give off vapors and odd scents and light. You climb up towers with so many stairs that your calves ache. Through some the windows you can see far away over the forest and the garden of the Watchers’ estate, and through others you catch glimpses of many other places – a raging sea caught in the midst of a storm, a snowy peak in a mountain range, the view from a highrise in Shanghai.

WinWin doesn’t catch any scent or indication that you’re any closer to finding where the Watchers are hiding Yuta and Ten, but through your wandering, you do cross Mark’s scent a few times.

“I can’t tell if it’s from today or last night,” WinWin remarks the first time. And though he tells you each time that he detects Mark’s trail, you don’t come across him.

You pass handfuls of Watchers. Some are by themselves, some are in pairs or other small groups. You do rediscover the vestibule that you’d passed on your way to the court room with the Watchers this morning, but it too has already moved. The courtyard doesn’t sit outside the doors of the vestibule, but rather a terrace dappled with sunlight through viney trellises. The courtroom isn’t located there anymore either.

It’s after you’ve been exploring with WinWin for at least an hour, possibly longer, that he stops in his tracks, nose lifted as he breathes in. His hand on your wrist tugs slightly, and you slow, swinging around to face him.

“What?” You come closer as soon as you see the look on his face. Confusion. Excitement. He’s sniffing, turning his head from side to side as he catches the scent. “What, WinWin? Is it them?”

The seconds tick by painfully, anticipation and hope beating through you with every pulse of your heart. If he’s found them then all of this can be over! As soon as you’ve got Ten and Yuta back in your arms, you’re out of here. Fuck the Watchers. Fuck whatever accord they’re accusing Yuta and Ten of having broken. You’re taking your boyfriends and you’re escaping from here.

WinWin turns his head sharply, and then he snaps back around to look down at you.

“I smell… food. A lot of it.”

Your wrist jerks almost painfully as he sets off down a staircase, around a sharp corner, he dips quickly down a narrow stairwell that’s nearly hidden in a niche, and then you’re stumbling out into glowing torchlight. Wall sconces line a richly carpeted hallway. Dark wood paneling lines the walls halfway up at which point fancy red wallpaper takes over. And there, a few short feet away from you, is a pair of doors with circular windows set in them at eye-level.

From behind the doors you can hear sizzling, clanging, cursing, a rhythmic thudding, dicing, slicing, and chatter. The doors are kicked open, and a young woman hurries out carrying a covered platter.

“The kitchen.” WinWin says, taking a few steps closer. He presses his nose up against one of the windows set into the doors. “Oh, damn, I’m hungry.”

The sound of a ringing bell sounds from behind the doors, followed shortly after by another.

You stand beside WinWin, forced to stretch up on your toes slightly to see properly through the window.

The room beyond is a blend of a modern kitchen, one that you would expect to see during the early 1900s in a fancy European house, and one even older than that. The floor and walls are both made of stone, all tightly packed together, large brown stones that give the space a cozy sort of feel. There’s a row of shiny cabinets and pots and pans and blades. There’s a wide fireplace with a big fire roasting small birds on a spit over half of it, and a large pot of some sort of stew on the other half. A cloud of steam bursts from a massive oven which one of the cooks pulls a rolling rack out of, and the rest of the kitchen is lost behind the steam.

The wafting scent of freshly baked bread reaches you.

WinWin pushes in through the doors before you even have the chance to fully appreciate the aroma. Naturally, you step inside right behind him.

The action in the kitchen doesn’t quite screech to a halt, but half of the workers do pause in their jobs to look over at the two of you — the intruders in their midst. And it’s then that you actually do look at them.

They’re elves. All of them.

Pointed ears peek out from beneath hats, shining eyes dart between your face and WinWin’s and the door swinging back shut behind you. They’re beautiful and fine-featured, glowing in the heat of the kitchen.

One elfin woman steps out of the cloud of steam. Her black hair is tied back, a couple curling strands escape the scarf that she wears to hold the rest back. Her eyes are bright gold, fixed on the pair of you, and she wipes her hands off on a towel at the waist of her apron before she curls her hands into fists against each hip. You can tell by her stance and the leveled gaze that she’s very likely the one running the kitchen. She’s also likely to be the one that’s about to kick you and WinWin out of the kitchen.

“You’re not them.” She says, melodic voice carrying clear over to you. “What are you?”

Not who, but what.

She looks away from the pair of you only long enough to sweep her piercing gaze around the room at the other elfin workers. “Get back to work. We’ve got a dinner to finish, everyone!”

The others all burst back into motion. Noise resumes at once. The elfin woman strides closer until she’s standing just before you and WinWin. Her pointed ears glisten with small jewels, pierced all along the lobe and up to the point. She scrutinizes you even as you do her, and after a second she repeats her previous question. “What are you?”

“Sorry, miss.” WinWin dips his head, apologizing. “I'm WinWin. We’re guests, I guess, of the Watchers.”

She snorts. “Guests? That’s a new one. Usually there’s only the prisoners. And you?” Her gaze is surprisingly cold for being such a warm color.

You manage to stutter out your name to her, intimidated by her absolute beauty. “Did — Did you say prisoners?” Your nerves can’t hold that question back from being asked aloud. The elf nods. “Do you know where they’re keeping the prisoners?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That information is worth my life, which I would rather keep, if you don’t mind.” She wraps her hands in the towel at her waist. “We don’t get free reign of the House, generally speaking. Mostly we stay here in the kitchen or the apartments, right through there.” She points a thumb back over her shoulder towards a recessed doorway beside the fireplace. “Occasionally we run up meals when requested, but other than that, this is where we are. They keep their secrets close, you know. Is that the reason why you’ve found your way in here?”

WinWin shakes his head quickly. “No, miss. I caught a scent of the food, and, if it would be alright, I am a bit hungry.” He glances over at you, then back at her. “I’m a werewolf, so my appetite is bigger than just two meals a day.”

She makes a slight expression of disgust. “High metabolism. Typical. Follow me, I’ll get something started for you. I’m Boa, by the way.”

Boa is graceful, floating through the workers as they hustle about, effortlessly clearing a path for you and WinWin to follow her towards the back of the kitchen. You pass the fireplace and the large oven, a rack of drying herbs, a small cool dark room that Boa tells you holds cheeses and fruits and vegetables. All the way in the back of the kitchen, snug up against the wall with windows just at the top edge, are several tables and chairs.

“Take a seat.” Boa gestures at the tables before she turns on her heel and walks away again.

Not all of the seats are empty. An older elfin man sits in one corner. He wears age well, with a gray beard and silver hair. His eyes are a warm shade of blue that makes you think of the ocean. If he were in the human world, you have no doubt that he would have the world swooning over him, calling him a silver fox and all sorts of less appropriate things. Yet here he sits instead, in the dim kitchen of a mythical labyrinthine manor house in Purgatory, elf ears tapering to a fine point, and he smokes a pipe.

The old elf watches you and WinWin closely as you choose a table at the opposite end of this small dining area. WinWin pulls out a chair for you, and once you’ve sat down, he pushes it in for you like a proper gentleman. He takes the seat right beside yours at this small round table, and takes hold of your hand once more.

“You’re still so clingy, you know that, right?” You mumble at WinWin even as you hold his hand tighter. You like the comfort of his warm hand surrounding yours.

“It’s my job to keep you safe.” WinWin replies. “Mark and I are both fully aware of what it would mean for us if you were in anything less than perfect condition when Yuta and Ten are returned to us.”

Boa returns a moment later, bringing with her a tray of fresh baked bread, some kind of jam, butter, a selection of cheeses and a small teapot and cups. She deposits them on the table, and then, to your surprise, she seats herself across from you.

WinWin immediately dives into the food, ignoring the way that Boa rests her elbows on the table, tucking her folded hands beneath her chin to observe you and him with her curious golden gaze. “So he’s a werewolf,” she says, “And what are you?”

The gold of her eyes is molten, burning into you for an answer. You readily give it. “I’m human. Well, I’m a tiny bit demon too. It’s complicated, a long, confusing story.” You wave your hand, hoping she disregards that and doesn’t try to ask you for any more details. Instead, you pick up a slice of the fresh bread — still warm from the oven — and you slather it with butter.

Boa hums, still just watching you both with an unreadable expression. “And what brings a werewolf and a not-totally-human here? As guests of the Watchers?”

You really don’t want to rehash the whole history that’s led to this moment. You pour yourself some of the tea. You smear jam across the slice of bread you’ve taken for yourself. You avoid eye contact.

Finally WinWin speaks up for you. “They’re holding a pair of demons. The Watchers came and took them, and they refuse to tell us the actual truth of the charges, but there’s a trial set in four days. Since we came all this way, they told us to stay for the trial.” He stuffs a bite of cheese into his mouth, then continues, “The demons are her boyfriends, and they’re good friends of mine and of our vampire friend who’s with us also.”

Boa’s eyebrows lift in surprise at the mention of Mark. “Oh, now there’s a vampire too? And where is the vampire?” She scans the area as if she thinks you’re making him up or that he can turn invisible, neither of which are the case.

“He’s wandering around.” WinWin stuffs another slice of bread into his mouth. “We’ll probably need to go find him after we’re finished here.”

“A werewolf, a vampire, two demons, and a not-totally-human.” Boa shakes her head. “Strange. I hope the trial goes well for your demons, dear.” She stretches a hand out to lay it comfortingly over yours. “I witnessed a trial once for a friend, and the result was guilt, tragically. I never want to witness a trial like that again. We elves think of ourselves as immortal because it can take so long to age. Look at our old elf over there,” she says, gesturing behind her at the man at the table. “He’s old as we come, pretty much. A few decades shy of ninety thousand years old.”

It feels dramatic, but you can’t prevent spitting your mouthful of tea out at this new information. “Did you just say ninety thousand?”

Boa nods. “Yes. We originated around the same time as Homo sapiens, but we developed slowly over the next hundred thousand years or so, stretching out our lifespans until we have achieved this. As near to immortal as anyone could ever hope to be. He has seen it all. Lived every tragedy and great fortune of the ages. Only the Watchers predate us, and even then, it’s only the High Watcher and a few others.”

Her tone shifts as she brings up the Watchers, filling with a less than pleased tone, and it’s increasingly obvious that although she may work here in their kitchen, she doesn’t like the Watchers.

She doesn’t have much more to say after that, nor more to ask. Boa sits quietly while you and WinWin gorge yourselves on the bread, jam, cheeses, and tea until the arrival of a few other elves from the door Boa had earlier indicated led to apartments. She leaves you then, once more wishing you luck with the fates of your boyfriends.

Navigating your way from the kitchen, attempting to locate Mark, somehow proves less difficult than you’d imagined. Maybe because now that WinWin’s belly is full he can concentrate more on locating Mark’s scent, or perhaps while you both sat in the kitchen, Mark wandered closer. Either way, it only takes around ten minutes of looking for Mark after you and WinWin leave the kitchen to find your missing vampire.

He’s standing alone in a hallway, staring curiously at a portrait hanging opposite a mirror of equal size. At first when you and WinWin approach, Mark doesn’t say anything. He just continues squinting at the portrait, moving slightly to get a different angle.

“Its eyes follow you,” he tells WinWin. “Look.”

WinWin stands beside Mark, trying to see what he sees.

You stand back, looking around.

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see movement. There’s nothing there when you turn your head, and you tell yourself that it was just a trick of shadow and light from the window at the other end of the hall. You would have believed it too, if not for you seeing it again before your head is even fully turned back around. You turn away as much as you possibly can while still able to slightly see out of the edge of your sight.

A black cloaked figure lingers at the corner of the hallway, hovering just there, ready to duck out of sight again. You swear it’s the same one that had been in the library earlier, but that’s been hours ago now.

You say nothing to either Mark or WinWin, just walking along with them, leaving that portrait behind. You find it’s actually rather easy to navigate your way back to your room, using the view from the windows to attempt to orient yourself.

Mark and WinWin are too busy talking about the things they’ve seen while Mark was separated from the two of you, so neither of them notice that you’re still being followed. The Watcher makes sure to keep his distance, trying to be stealthy in tucking himself around corners, behind statues and doorways. You can feel him watching you in addition to the occasional glimpses you catch of him.

Only once you reach the landing on the spiral staircase, heading for the door to your rooms do you notice him walking blatantly up the stairs behind you.

You turn your head, looking at him over your shoulder, but the Watcher neither slows or speeds up, doesn’t show any sign of having been caught. He just quietly and steadily climbs the steps. You speed up, though. Your arm bumps against WinWin’s as you slot your hand into his, and he only pauses in talking to Mark for a moment to smile down at you.

Mark pushes open the door to your suite of rooms, WinWin follows him inside, and you look back at the Watcher just to find that he’s standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall with his hands folded in front of him. Waiting. Or standing on guard. Either way, he’s been following you, and as you step safely into the room and close the door behind you, there’s only one thing on your mind.

Why is he following you?

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