#a gentle lil wave | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illyrianbitch · 3 months

Text

Death and His Reaper

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After suffering a devastating injury in battle, Azriel finds himself on the brink of life and death where he meets you, The Mother's reaper.

Warnings: angsty fluff?, brief mentions of battle and injury, lil convos about life and its meaning, Azriel without his shadows, lowk love at first sight

Word Count: 13k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel could feel the hot, metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, the sharp sting of pain shooting through his body with each ragged breath. A pounding, almost unbearable, pain in his head consumed him, a relentless throb that pulsed with every beat of his heart– each pulse sending waves of nausea washing over him. He tried to move, to shift away from the agony, but his limbs felt like stone, heavy and unresponsive. His muscles screamed in protest with every attempt to shift position, every movement met with waves of agony that radiated through his battered form.

Dark spots filled his vision as the ringing in his ears grew louder. Everything was fuzzy, hazy, blurs of movement and moving color. Azriel could hear sounds around him. Loud sounds, piercing sounds. Distantly, he could make out what he assumed were screams. He wasn’t sure though, and wasn't able to think about it too hard. His shadows were whispering to him, louder and louder, but he couldn’t hear them. The sound rattled in his brain as he blinked. Once. Twice. His vision became more unfocussed.

With a final, shuddering breath, the world dissolved into darkness.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was a humming in his ear when Azriel came to, a light vibration he wasn’t familiar with. The ache in his body grew duller with every blink— his eyelids still heavy with pain, or exhaustion, he wasn’t quite sure. One of the same, he guessed. He let a moment pass, taking deep breaths as he oriented himself. He laid in a bed, soft white sheets placed upon him gingerly. Had Feyre tucked him in? He thought for a moment. Why would Feyre tuck him in?

Another moment passed. Azriel became aware of his clothing, his body still strapped in his illyrian leathers— leathers that were eerily clean. No smudges, no stains. Pushing himself upright, Azriel glanced around the room, his movements slow and unsteady. There was no one else in sight, no familiar faces to provide him with answers. He frowned, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression. With a hesitant sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. He wavered for a moment, grasping for balance, before taking a cautious step forward.

He casted a casual glance towards the bed, rubbing his hands across his face in exhaustion as made a move towards the door, his thoughts scattered and disjointed. But then he stilled, his head quickly snapping back. Instead of an empty bed, Azriel's gaze fell upon his own body, lying prone and unmoving— paled, almost colorless, wings hanging limply at his sides. He blinked, a flicker of confusion and fear knitting his brows as he registered the scene before him.

“Quite strange, isn’t it?”

Azriel whipped his head around, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger at his hip that he failed to find. His wings flared out angrily, fully extended with curled ends, each single claw at the apex poised and ready to strike. His eyes were wide as they focused on you.

You let out a quiet laugh, a gentle sound that caressed him like a comforting hand. He felt himself falter, a sense of confusion washing over him. Yet, within that confusion was a warmth that spread through him at your presence, at your voice— soft, like a faint ray of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.

He fought the sudden urge to stand down, an odd sense of safety wrapping around him, unnerving him with the ease in which it filled him. He struggled back, pushing the feeling away. Stay guarded, stay ready, you are a threat. Yet even in his attempts, he recognized a slight release in the tension surrounding his shoulders, a small release in the stance of his wings– decisions he hadn’t consciously made. With his eyes still trained on you, his hand searched the side of his thigh, his hip, the backside of his waistband. He patted frantically, fingers itching to find a form of protection. When his search came up empty once more, he settled for holding his other hand out towards you in warning, his palm facing you as his body fell into a defensive stance. The blue siphon on his hand glowed aggressively.

The corners of your mouth tilted into a small smile. “You do that everytime.”

Azriel didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he narrowed his eyes as he properly took you in. He scanned your body; the way you stood comfortably in front of him, your hands clasped together, placed delicately in front of your waist. It almost hurt to look at you, he observed. He had to squint to make out your features. And when he did, he was hit with one thought: you were beautiful.

He cursed himself for recognizing it, for letting the thought echo in his head. You were a threat, he reminded himself, a stranger in his home. He was confused, disoriented, and yet you stood in front of him, presence dripping in a calm ease. You stared at him with a look he couldn’t discern, not when his mind was a muddled, confused, blurry mess. But the way you were looking, so expectant, so patient– it made him slightly nauseated.

“Who are you?” Azriel’s voice was loud and rough. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, a twitch in his wings, still extended wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Azriel scrambled for words, his head aching as he searched it for answers, for explanations. His confusion exposed him in a way that made him feel naked— at risk. None of it was right, not him standing over his own body, not him conversing with, what might possibly be, the most gorgeous female he’d ever seen, not the empty room around him. Was he dreaming? Was he being tortured?

You slowly lifted your hands in defense, remaining careful of how fast your movements were. “I’m not here to cause you any harm.”

A skeptical expression crossed his face. “Then why are you here?” He eyed you intently, his gaze scanning you as if sizing up a potential threat. His outstretched hand stayed unmoving, still on the defense. But you recognized a subtle shift in his posture, a slight calm flickering in his moving eyes.

Azriel was always the more difficult of the three to soothe. You had noticed this the last time, his wings shredded with ash arrows, his blood coating the floors beneath him. Even then, even through the exhaustion that bled into his unconscious mind– into his soul– he had fought you, acknowledged you with apprehension and distrust. You never blamed him, though. You understood. You would be fearful, confused, and defensive, too.

“I’m here to help you.”

Your voice was lower now than it was before. A soft murmur. He recognized the cadence, the words. It felt like a voice he’d heard before but couldn’t quite place.

"Who are you?" Azriel demanded as he frantically looked between his own body and you. He felt a sense of fear he wasn't accustomed to, a worry that either body would vanish were he to take his eyes away for too long. "What the hell is going on?"

You took a step forward as he turned to look upon his body, reaching an arm out to touch him, to begin to explain, when his head swiftly turned back to you. Azriel recoiled, taking a step away from you, his eyes scanning you again— wide and wild. There was a rustle as his wings mirrored his actions, still extended aggressively, unmoving. You quickly stilled, realizing your mistake of initiating contact too soon. Your brows furrowed as you gave him an apologetic smile. You took a step back, settling to stand a bit further from him than you were before.

Hazel eyes watched your every movement, his body tense as you fixed yourself into place, standing in front of him with the small smile still on your face– it reeked of pity, he thought. It didn’t feel right. No matter where he was, or who you were, he wasn’t supposed to be this off guard, this jumpy.

His face fell as the realization hit him: he couldn't feel them. His companions, his protectors, his shadows– there were no whisperings in his ear, no cool trail as they snaked around his body. He hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by you, by his lifeless form. The absence of his shadows explained this sudden vulnerability– he was receiving no information on you. No intel about who you were, what weapons you may have, who was around to witness. As quick as the realization settled into his stomach, Azriel called out to them. He dropped one of his hands lower as if to make it easier for them to find him, to reach him, but nothing came. No cool touch on his body, no whispers. Instead, silence enveloped him as he took notice of motion around him, black wisps of smoke scattered throughout the room.

You watched his movements, watched as he examined himself, as he craned his head to scan his body. "They can sense you," you explained, gesturing towards the shadows that seemed to be bouncing around, slithering on the ground like they were blind and confused. Some rested on his unmoving body, some around his feet, but not quite on him. His wings began to retract and slump as Azriel’s face slightly fell, his mouth open and brows furrowed.

He looked down, observing his hands tentatively. “Why aren’t they with me?” Azriel asked. His voice was slightly strained. He didn’t look up at you, his vision trained to his scarred hands, to the floor below him where shadows circled aimlessly. He felt an ache in his heart, a longing to be covered again, to be with them, to be protected. He felt too naked, stripped of every layer that protected him— no shadows, no intel, bare before you.

“Your shadows are sentient,” you explained, “they don’t die with you.”

His head snapped up, hazel eyes meeting yours instantly, widened with disbelief. "Die?" he repeated, his eyes scanning yours. "What do you mean die?"

In a slight moment of shock, Azriel took an unconscious step forward. His body tensed, and you watched as the rest of his frame followed suit, the muscles in his jaw clenching. There was an evident unease in his face, tension etched into his features.

You maintained a stillness, a deliberate choice not to intrude further, to remain respectful of his boundaries. Your gaze held a mixture of understanding and patience, offering him a moment to process the information without feeling overwhelmed. Then, you softly asked, “Where do you think you are, Azriel?”

His name sounded foreign on your tongue but he didn’t have the space to acknowledge it, instead rummaging through his other thoughts. He blinked, taking in your question. A dull ache in his head creeped up on him, but your voice soothed it instantly— soft, comforting.

"I... I don't know," he stammered, voice low and quiet, void of any assertion it held moments prior. His eyes darted back and forth, attempting to piece together fragments of memory. His wings now mirrored his defeated state– limp and listless, curled in, the membrane hanging dejectedly.

Sensing his growing distress, you adjusted your approach. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Your voice, smooth like honey and warm like tea, flowed through him. For a moment, he allowed it to sit, allowed it to spread, letting it calm him in a way that he was fighting before.

"I…" Azriel muttered to himself. Slowly, fragments of memory began to resurface, faint but discernible. He looked back at his body, examining it as if trying to find the missing pieces, memories popping up like distant echoes, flashing in the corners of his brain. The ache was back, slowly spreading throughout his head. “I was fighting.”

He looked back over his shoulder, twisting his body to peer at where his physical body lay in the bed, the colors of the room now registering with a strange clarity. Tandem disembodied flashbacks surged through his mind—flashes of fighting, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, and the cacophony of clashing weapons. Each image hit him like a sudden jolt, disjointed and chaotic.

In one fragment, he could almost feel the weight of a blade in his hand, the strain of muscles as he swung it in a frenzied dance. Another flash brought back the distant echoes of shouted commands, the clash of metal on metal, and the acrid scent of sweat and blood lingering in the air. The blurry memories continued, each scene disconnected yet vivid in its brutality. He shivered as the ghost of each sensation trailed his body, a twitch in his wings as he recalled the injuries they had sustained.

Then, a searing pain in his head, a sharp and sudden ache that brought him to his knees in his mind's eye. The pain lingered in his skull like a phantom sensation, and with it, a realization began to form. His eyes met yours with a cold, distant understanding. A wave of sadness hit you.

"I'm dead,” he stated, his voice quiet, “Aren't I?"

A sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Not yet," you clarified, taking a step to move closer, the movement slow and deliberate. "You're in between."

"In between? In between where?"

You took a moment to look at him, your gaze lingering on his face. His eyes were darker now, troubled, as he stared back at you. “Your body,” You started, gesturing towards his sleeping form to guide his attention back to where it lay, “It's still fighting.”

Azriel nodded slowly, taking in each of your words, digesting them, letting them sit. There was a shift in his expression—a solemn understanding replacing the earlier confusion he once held. You continued.

"Madja, she's a brilliant healer. She has brought back many from this same brink."

When Azriel looked back at you, you shifted your focus to his head, motioning with a gentle sweep of your hand, then directed your fingers towards your own temple. "And your mind," You said, "it's fighting too."

Azriel frowned. He was a soldier. He sustained many injuries before, had fought in battles that left him with gaping wounds, with his organs rearranged. This was nothing new— so why was this different? Had he always been out this long?

You watched him intently, observing the way his thoughts seemed to churn beneath the surface, how he began to blink rapidly, how his brow furrowed. He was still confused– you could feel it. You let out a small sigh, running your eyes across his face.

"The injury you sustained was worse than any you've ever had," you explained, your voice steady. Flashes of his memories interjected—him fighting, soaring into the air only to be shot down, engaging in combat once again, his head colliding with something hard, the sickening sound of a crunch. "Not only to your body but to your head. You cracked your skull open completely, Azriel. The trauma of the infliction itself… well, let's say it damaged your brain. Heavily."

As Azriel looked directly at you, his hazel eyes glazed over with deep contemplation. He nodded absentmindedly, "Okay.” He said. He looked over to his unmoving form again.

With his attention fixated on his proper body, you took the time to observe him more closely, scanning his face and his body, taking in the details of his fighting leathers. Azriel was a vision— your favorite male to visit, your favorite soul to see. You can’t remember the first time you saw him, the first time he laid on a bed, a grasp away from death. You suppose it was centuries ago, when he first became a soldier. But even then, time escaped you.

Your gaze wandered to the wings adorning his back, now freed from their earlier alarmed nature, not fully extended but not fully kept back. You thought back to their wide and impressive extended form, the membrane between each robust wing bearing a faint sheen, casting a subtle shimmer in the ambient light. Even now they were mesmerizing– the leathery texture, the powerful structure, the way they naturally framed his form. The tips of the expansive wings curved slightly, giving Azriel an imposing yet graceful appearance, even among current circumstances. Azriel's voice brought you back to attention.

"So I'm stuck here?"

"For now." You responded, your voice carrying a gentle reassurance. The look on his face, only beginning to finally process his reality, pushed you to postpone any further explanations. Time was not an issue, not now.

"And you are..." Azriel's voice trailed off.

"Y/n," you answered.

He let the name sink in, repeating it with a slow, deliberate pace, "Y/n."

“Yes.” You nodded.

“And you’re here to help me.”

Another nod. “Yes.”

He rolled his shoulders as something that resembled a skeptical scowl slowly made its way through his face. Then, Azriel squinted his eyes at you. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

You couldn't help it—a small laugh escaped you, echoing softly in the room. The sound made Azriel jolt back slightly, caught off guard. Dying it down with a small, genuine smile on your face, you caught Azriel’s uncomfortable gaze, his wings now extended slightly, the corners of his lips downturned in confusion.

"I’m- I’m sorry,” You said, clearing your throat. “It's just... you are curious this time around.”

Azriel's hazel eyes widened in shock, his brows furrowing in confusion. "This– this time around?” His eyes rapidly scanned your face with a deep intensity. Faintly, he recalled your earlier comment, the laugh when you said that he reacted the same way every time. “Have we met before?"

You offered him a small smile as you said, "Many times.”

Azriel let out a deep breath. Here he stood, suspended between life and something else entirely, facing someone who knew him in a way that he couldn’t even remember. A sense of anxiety filled his chest. He wished for his shadows now, for them to wrap themselves around his arms, around his neck, to offer some calm. He searched you for any sign of deception, looked at the way your eyes followed him, the stance that you held. But all he found was a sense of sincerity and tenderness.

“Your family tends to face death a lot more than others in Prythian,” you explained, “You and your brothers especially."

At the mention of his brothers, Azriel's heart dropped, a heaviness settling in his chest. Thoughts of his family rushed in—wondering who had found him, the worry that surely gripped them. He straightened up, a sense of urgency urging him to survey his surroundings. His family… His gaze moved beyond you, taking in the details of the room. It was his guest suite in the River House, the room he’d stay in when he came to visit Rhysand and Feyre, the room they would drag him into when he needed to rest or heal. It was his room. Yet, there were no sounds of people, no familiar voices—just the quiet emptiness that surrounded him, surrounded you both. Surely they would be near him, Azriel thought, Madja at the least.

"Where is everyone?" He asked, still scanning the room. He walked towards the large windows, taking in the nighttime view, gorgeous and still— mountains covered in snow, a city lit by moonlight.

“Here, it's just you," you said gently.

Azriel turned to face you once more, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. He didn’t ask for any further explanation, a sense of exhaustion heavily weighing on him. His eyes bore into yours. "And you. You exist here too.”

“I do.”

He took a step towards you, wings rustling in their position behind his back. Azriel scanned your face, hazel eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and weariness. He wasn’t afraid of you, didn’t believe you were a threat– not anymore, at least. But you were still here, in this state of existence that only he was in.

“Why?”

The question was pure curiosity, not a hint of distrust or malice within it. You observed him, noting how he seemed to have settled, the tension in his frame easing. Instead, a subtle sadness lingered, a reflection of longing. Azriel loved his family, this much you knew. He was a devoted male, devoted to serving those he loved, devoted to his position, to his duties. Of course he was missing his family. Your heart ached.

"I'm here to help," you assured, "I’m to stay while you heal, or until–"

“Until I stop…” Azriel finished the sentence, a quiet acceptance in his voice. "And then you guide me."

You were taken aback as Azriel's hazel eyes locked onto yours, a moment of realization passing between you. Usually, it was you who revealed your purpose to those you reaped, explaining the meaning of your duties, easing their worries. You blinked, your head tilting back slightly as you clasped your hands together. Azriel continued, stating with a quiet certainty, "You're a reaper."

You nodded, titling your head as you took in his face, his brows slightly knitted. “I am.”

You weren’t supposed to be doing this. In situations like these, where they were stuck between the life before and the life after, you were to leave them in peace– wait until they decided or their body decided for them. It was never intended for you to stay with them during the waiting period, to keep them company. No, this was something you felt inclined to do. You couldn’t leave Azriel if you wanted to, it felt wrong— and you didn’t want to. Not one bit.

"You weren't what I expected," Azriel admitted.

Azriel had a faint idea of your kind, of your duties. He heard accounts of near-death experiences, tales of encountering a radiant light, foggy memories and beliefs of meeting a beautiful entity—whatever that meant. He always wrote them off as distant narratives, existing in the realms of folklore and imagination. He would have never imagined something like you – something so… delicate.

Curiosity lingered in your gaze as you asked, "What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Azriel replied honestly, his head beginning to throb and ache again. A hand instinctively rose to the back of his scalp, fingers rubbing at the tension that surfaced. The ache radiated through his skull as he massaged his hairline. You recognized the discomfort with a small frown, playing with your hands as you observed him for a moment.

"Azriel,” You spoke, drawing his attention back to you, “I'm going to give you some time to process everything. Explore, think. When you're ready, and if you want to, you can find me then."

Azriel looked at you, uncertainty drawn across his features. "How will I know where you are?”

"You’ll know.” A soft smile played on your lips as you reassured him. “Trust me.”

As you left, Azriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the quiet expanse embrace him.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were right. Azriel knew exactly where to find you. How we knew, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even aware of how he got to you, how he managed to move. One moment he was wandering, taking in the quiet halls of the house, the next he was thinking of you, seeking you out— and then he was here, watching you.

It was dark out still, a fresh night breeze in the air. Azriel stood for a moment, taking in his surroundings—a small clearing nestled between two towering mountains covered in snow. The landscape was rugged, the terrain too harsh to be in the vicinity of Velaris. Somewhere beyond the borders of Illyria, he concluded. He turned his focus back to you. Draped in a simple cream-colored dress, you stood at the edge of the clearing, your silhouette softly illuminated by the glow of the full moon that hung in the sky. The moonlight painted the terrain around you with a soft, silvery hue, casting long shadows that danced across the uneven ground.

“Hi, Azriel.” The words left your mouth before you turned your head to look at him. When your eyes met his, you gave him a smile. He faltered for a moment.

“Hello… Y/n.” He said your name quietly, adding it onto his greeting tentatively, as if he was testing how it felt on his tongue. He liked it, he decided. It tasted sweet.

You turned your head back to the view in front of you, and Azriel took it as an unspoken invitation. Slowly, he found himself walking towards you, the snow crunching beneath his boots. You both stood in silence, and Azriel found a sense of calm rolling through him. Taking a deep breath, he let his wings unfurl slightly, not having noticed the tension they had been carrying, tucked tightly behind him.

Azriel turned to gaze at you. You stood still, eyes trained forward on the view before you. Your focus prompted him to take in the sight once more, bringing his attention back to the vast expanse ahead.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

It was now your turn to look at him, to observe the side of his face as he looked forward. The faint glow of the moonlight casted shadows on the contours of his face. He looked almost holy, something devout and ethereal. "You don’t recognize it?”

Your question led to a contemplative frown creasing his brow and he turned his head, taking in the soft smile on your face. “Should I?”

You turned your body fully to face him, craning your head to look up at him. There was a subtle shift in his expression as your eyes met. You nodded toward the view, a gentle encouragement.

“Look again.”

And he did.

Then, his gaze softened, a hint of recognition flickering in his eyes. Azriel's shoulders fell, a subtle release of tension, and his wings shuddered softly. "I used to come here," he said quietly, "A long time ago… I used to come here."

His eyes shifted between you and the view. You met his gaze, nodding in silent understanding, leaving a space of silence that invited him to continue talking if he desired to— if he was comfortable.

"I found it flying one night," he continued. His memories now seemed to dance in his mind, distant yet vivid, a time before Amarantha, before Koshei. A faint smile ghosted his lips. “I'd find time between missions to come here and just breathe. Now I could never validate wasting time to be here, doing nothing."

You let out a small hum. “Taking time to breathe is never a waste.”

Azriel turned to look at you. "How did you..."

"Know about this?" you finished for him. He nodded.

You smiled, the expression warm and animated. Holding your arms in front, one hand cradling each elbow, you continued, "I could feel it. Part of our duty," your voice carried a gentle honesty. "The Mother helps us to find your peace."

Azriel's gaze scanned you again, a subtle curiosity in his eyes. His attention shifted to your arms, and then to the snow-covered surroundings. "Are you cold?" he asked, concern lacing his words. Instinctively, he placed a hand on your bicep, but quickly retracted it when he registered the movement.

You kept your gaze locked with his, unfazed. "No," you replied calmly, and then added, "Neither are you."

Azriel blinked, and then he looked down at himself, his eyes scanning his own body, his arms. He wasn’t cold. He thought back to every time he had visited this place, this lookout. Being so high up made the air nippy, made the breeze cold– he always wore an extra layer. But here he stood, alongside you, and all he could feel was a sense of warmth. Interesting. It was all so interesting to him.

Azriel nodded to himself, turning to face forward again. He traced the tops of the snow-covered mountains, the valley below. You remained sideways for a moment, watching him as he processed the image before him. Another moment passed and then you, too, turned to face forward, mirroring his contemplative posture.

“So, what does it all mean?” He asked, his voice a low murmur.

You stilled, rubbing your lips together as you took in his question. You glanced to the side, his eyes still trained before him. It wasn’t the view he was talking about, you knew this. He was asking the question many before him had, wondering about the purpose of life, the answer to their troubles. You thought for a moment, pondering on what to tell him. There were no right responses here— at least, none that you thought would satisfy him. So, you answered from your heart.

“Does it have to mean something?”

Azriel’s head turned to you. “Yes,” He said, all too fast. It had to mean something. His entire existence, his suffering, every life he had taken— it had to mean something. He needed it to mean something. The agony he had lived with, the anger he wore as second skin, it was all for something… for some reason. He needed it to be. So he continued, “It has to.”

You studied him, watching the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the weight of his gaze lingering on you— there was something in his eyes, a sense of desperation, of fear. You took a deep breath, and then you offered an understanding smile.

“Then it means whatever you need it to mean.”

Azriel frowned.

“That isn’t an answer.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him for a moment before you responded. “Well,” You said, "Perhaps you asked the wrong question.”

“What do you mean?” His brows knitted together, forming a furrowed line of confusion on his forehead. Faintly, in the back of his head, an ache gnawed at him.

Facing each other now, you maintained eye contact as he looked at you intently. “Ask me what you really want to, Azriel.”

”I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was a tinge of frustration in his voice, delicately mixed into the confusion that laced it.

You simply shrugged, giving him a close-mouthed smile. “You will.”

In normal circumstances, your elusive answers would have driven him crazy— he would be suspicious of you, find a sense of guilt in your failure to give proper, concrete responses. But he wasn’t in a normal circumstance, and you weren’t a threat. These were two things he knew, now, for sure. So he took your answers, as ambiguous as they were, and let them sit with him in the comfortable, cool, silence.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel found you again by the Sidra, walking along the cobblestone streets of Velaris. It was the same again, him being able to find you without so much as a second guess. It was daytime now, he noticed. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow onto the city streets, filling his body with a comfortable, familiar, warmth. A few steps ahead of him, you stilled, turning around gracefully to face him.

“Hello Azriel.”

He stopped, making a motion to look around as if he were to find someone else, another person you might be referring to. Quickly he remembered that it was just you and him in this plane, in this form of his existence. He cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” He greeted, with a small nod of his head.

He walked towards you, stopping into place in front of you, a few feet ahead. The sunlight hit your back, creating a soft, radiant glow around your silhouette– it outlined your figure, forming a subtle halo around your head that seemed to blend with the warmth of the sun. It almost looked as if the sunlight itself was embracing you, framing your presence with a touch of radiance. Azriel took a moment to admire it.

He realized seconds later that he’d stared for too long, that you were now gazing up at him expectantly, eyes scanning his face.

Azriel wasn’t much of a talker, not around strangers, and sometimes not even his own family. It was never that he didn’t have things to say— quite the opposite, really. Az thought about everything, and he thought about it all very deeply. He had too much to say, too much that he’d observed. But now, in front of you, his mind was drawing blanks. He thought back to how, not long ago, you both stood on a snowy mountain, looking into the comfortable darkness of the night. How time worked here, with you, he didn’t know. It didn’t bother him, however, not like it did when he first woke up. In fact, he had begun to enjoy it. To enjoy how free it was, how there were no rules, no expectations, no missions.

Azriel paused, his thoughts swirling, and then, almost as if caught off guard by his own words, he blurted out, "I would like to show you something."

You blinked in surprise, your mouth parting slightly as your heart seemed to skip a beat, carefully falling back into a rhythmic melody. A smile spread across your features– a broad, teeth-revealing smile. The corners of Azriel’s lips turned up in response. If you didn’t know any better, you would have described the smile as almost awkward in its delivery. Though modest, it still held a certain beauty as it graced his face. The lines that had once etched across his features seemed to smooth out, replaced by silent calm evident in the softening of his gaze, the subtle curve of that smile. Your own smile settled into a close-lipped one, and you gently pulled your bottom lip with your teeth before nodding your head.

“Lead the way, Azriel," you said, and he began walking, but not without a quick glance back at you, ensuring you were following his lead. As you walked beside him at a comfortable pace, his wings fanned out comfortably. Their immense size allowed them to extend behind you, and even though you walked at his pace, you could feel their presence above you.

The streets of Velaris unfolded before you as you walked alongside Azriel. You took it all in– the beauty of the city, its intricate architecture and vibrant atmosphere. It was always a pleasure to experience it, to breathe in its life. Even amidst the circumstances that brought you here, there was a sense of appreciation for the privilege of experiencing such a place. A sense of jealousy welled up within you. Envy for those who could lead a normal life here— those who could wake up, take a walk by the Sidra, greet their friends in the morning light. It all seemed so mundane, so easy. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to give it the air to breathe, the space to fester. You looked towards Azriel.

“Where are we going?” You asked, as you both rounded a corner into a small alleyway. The space was narrow, causing you to fall into line behind him, your vision focusing on his wings. They were beautiful before, in the nighttime glow, but seeing them in such close proximity, with the sun casting through their membranes, it was a different experience. Such beautiful, beautiful things, you thought. You ached to run your fingertips across them.

He responded over his shoulder, "Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

You sensed a slight playful tone in his voice, letting out a small laugh at his question.

"That's not how it works," you replied, "I'm not The Mother."

Azriel stopped for a moment, causing you to skitter to a stop as well. He looked back, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he uttered a simple "huh."

You suddenly felt a vulnerability settling in, an awkward awareness of yourself and your proximity to him. Before it could fully take hold, Azriel resumed walking and you followed. The alleyway began to open up to a bigger road, allowing the space for you both to begin walking side by side once more.

"Azriel,” You said, casting a glance up at him, “If you're leading me to some private area to kill me, I hate to tell you that it won't work."

He stopped, and then craned his head down to look at you. A nervous flutter danced in your chest as a sense of self-consciousness crept in. What a stupid joke to make, you thought. What if he believed you were making a crude reference to his duties as a spymaster– assuming the worst of him and his abilities? Had you inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject in an attempt at humor? You weren't friends, you reminded yourself, there was still an expectation of professionalism to uphold. Azriel looked at you for a moment. And then another.

And then, he laughed. The sound, small and amused, radiated through your chest. You awkwardly joined in, unsure if your joke had landed or if it was something else entirely.

"Why would I kill the one who will bring me peace?" he asked, his words delivered with a touch of sincerity.

You let out a breath, taking in his face, the hazel of his eyes as he stared down at you. You smiled back at him, letting out another laugh, this time more certain and lighthearted. "Right, that would be foolish of you.”

You knew that Azriel was talking about your duties, about the job of a Reaper, not you specifically. But for a moment, you let yourself live in a fantasy, one where you weren't simply The Mother’s hand, where you didn’t only exist here, in a space where no one remembered you.

Azriel beckoned you to walk into the bigger street. It was only a few more steps before you stopped, taking in the sight of a quaint shop before you, adorned with small tables and chairs, surrounded by hanging plants and flowers. The window boasted a delicately hand-painted logo: Fillings & Emulsions.

Azriel took notice of the silence surrounding you both, no hum of the usual Velaris life, no laughter, no murmured distant conversations. Yet, the shop still smelled like its usual self— a sweet, buttery aroma of delicate treats and pastries. Azriel breathed it in with a smile. He opened the door, a small jingle sounding above him where a tiny bell rang. He held it open for you to enter.

Your gaze swept across the interior, taking in the small tables and the glass display filled with pastries of various shapes and colors. Behind the counter, loaves of bread sat neatly on wooden shelves.

"I like coming here, when I have the time."

Wandering around and exploring the cozy pastry shop, your gaze casually shifted towards Azriel, who remained by the doorway. "You're a dessert person?" you asked as you continued to meander through the charming space.

“Sometimes,” Azriel replied, walking further into the store. He looked around, taking in the familiar environment, the comforting decor. “But they have these sour candies that I love. They come in this little gold box-”

“You mean these?”

Now behind the counter, you turned around to face him, a small delicate gold box in your hand. The plastic cover revealed 12 small square gummies nestled inside, each in their own white wrapper. You looked up at him for confirmation. Azriel met your eyes before his gaze traveled down to your hands.

“Yes,” he breathed, a small smile forming on his lips, “Those.”

You smiled at the response, slowly making your way back around the counter, a few feet away from where he stood. You surveyed the store, eyes bouncing to the different tables and mismatched chairs. “Where do you usually sit?”

“I, uh, I don’t.” Azriel cleared his throat. “I never have the time. And when I do, I usually just head home.”

Azriel didn’t explain further, didn’t tell you his real reasons. It was true, he usually didn’t have time to sit and leisurely enjoy a box of candies. But when he did, he was often too afraid to stay in the store itself.

Azriel knew he called attention, that his wings stuck out in stark contrast against the gentle streets of the city, the quiet hum of life. He’d conditioned himself to appear smaller when walking around, to avoid direct eye contact so as to not intimidate those he passed. But even then, his presence was offputting– he’d catch citizens avoiding him, creating more distance between them or switching to the opposite side of the street. It was part of the job, he told himself. He was a large male, fully aware of how terrifying his stature could be, how frightening his own wings could be— especially when fully extended. Not even to mention his scarred hands, ones that he was sure fae could imagine easily drenched in the blood of his enemies. He wore gloves when he could. He wasn’t ashamed of them– his hands– not as much as before, but he was always acutely aware. Aware that they weren’t normal, that they drew attention, that for the comfort of others, he hid them away.

He came to, his thoughts slowly dissipating as he registered his surroundings once more, his gaze landing on you. You looked at him with a small curiosity in your eyes.

“Well,” You said, taking a glance around, “Would you like to sit now?”

“I would.” He nodded, offering a small smile that carried a touch of timidity. It wasn't like before, no uncertainty or awkwardness, but rather a gentle expression that hinted at a reserved warmth.

“Inside or outside?”

Azriel looked over his shoulder, towards the small door and the seating outside.

“Outside,” he replied.

A hum of agreement escaped your lips as you gave him a smile, taking a step to the side in order to walk around him, leading the way. The gentle jingle of the little doorbell echoed delicately as you stepped outside.

Azriel followed you, watching as you approached a small steel table. The white paint was chipped, flaking off at certain areas of the legs, but you didn’t seem to mind. The air felt crisp and clean, rays of sunshine peeking through alleyways and the tips of the stores that lined the street. Azriel took a moment to breathe it in, savoring the clarity that hung in the atmosphere, the silence. You pulled out your chair, the movement emitting a small screech as it slid against the cobblestones. Azriel walked to the table, standing opposite of you, and carefully took a seat.

As you slowly opened the box, Azriel adjusted himself in the seat. It was small, the steel back stiff and straight, making it hard for him to sit comfortably with his wings. After a small struggle, he settled into a position sitting up right, wings draping across each side of the chair. The frustration melted away as he took in his surroundings once more. He felt a certain peace he’d never felt before. A lightness in his movements, in his touch. The fresh air kissed his skin, a soft breeze whispered into his ears, threading itself through his hair.

“Is it always like this?” He asked.

You pulled the lid off the box, casting a glance up at him. Azriel’s head was turned sideways, his gaze following the curve of the streets.

“Like what?”

He looked at you, catching your eye. His face held a graceful calmness, brows slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With a soft, velvety tone, he replied, "This peaceful."

Turning to the side, you quickly scanned over the streets, registering the simple beauty that surrounded you both. Turning back to him, a tender smile played on your lips.

“Yes,” you replied, “It is.”

Azriel's response was a simple silent contemplation. Leaning back with a subtle adjustment for comfort, his wings gently folded and his gaze fixed on the table. Azriel loved Velaris. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the peace of an empty city that graced him now. Sitting with you now, at a small table by the streets, was something he was never able to do— not truly, not to this extent. He held the feeling close.

"Which are your favorites?"

Your voice pulled Azriel back to reality. He blinked, and then he looked at you.

"The green ones.”

You picked up one of the green candies nestled in white wrapping and offered it to him. Your hands briefly touched as he gently accepted the candy from you. You felt the texture of his skin against yours, the small ridges formed by the scarred tissue that extended to his fingers.

Azriel waited for it– the expected recoil from unintended contact, his body having been naturally accustomed to jump at the slightest of touches. However, this time, there was no involuntary withdrawal, no rush of icy embarrassment.

He was always so careful of his touch with Elain, acutely aware of how his hands looked against her immaculate skin. Although he refused to admit it, it bothered him deeply, how obvious it made his differences appear. Yet, that caution wasn’t found now, in his movements with you. Instead, a sense of certainty filled him, a gentle nudge to his heart, a contentedness with himself and his presence. You were beautiful, graceful, kind– and he didn’t feel guilt when touching you, didn’t feel as if he were about to taint something too beautiful for his hands.

You observed him as he stared at his hands, now resting on the table, the candy still in between his fingers. With a small movement, you gently cupped the side of one of them with your palm.

“Azriel,” You softly said, pulling his attention to you. “They didn’t feel this type of peace— didn’t feel peace at all, actually.”

Azriel stayed quiet, his gaze now trained on where your hand touched his. You pulled your hand back, and Azriel's gaze followed. Then, almost imperceptibly, the hazel of his eyes brightened. There was something about the way you spoke to him, about how kind your voice was. They didn’t feel peace. Your words rang in his head, a wave of relief passing through his body. It healed a part of him that he swore was broken, warmed his body like a summer's eve. He gave you a small smile.

You worried for a moment that you had forced thoughts onto him, ones that harbored pain and loneliness. But you felt it in your gut, a need to tell him, to let him know that they had suffered the way they deserved— that his hands were solely a part of him, a body part, natural. And from his response, it seemed as if he understood what you were saying, and most importantly, that it resonated with him the way you wished it to. You returned your attention to the sour candies before you.

"Can I ask why you like these so much?"

Azriel looked at you, a close-mouthed smile forming. His eyes crinkled a bit, and then he explained, "My mother used to give me candies just like this when I was able to see her. I never figured out how she got them. She..." He trailed off, readjusting how he was sitting. His gaze met yours as he finished, "That's why."

You could sense the sadness now evident in his face, his wings rolling in closer to his body. You let out a small breath as a sudden pang of sympathy hit you.

"Let's talk about something else," you suggested, subtly shifting the focus as you played with the edges of the candy box

Azriel leaned forward quickly, his hand reaching out to gently rest on yours before either of you had the chance to register the movement. "It's alright,” he said softly. “I'd like to talk about this. I don't talk about her much.”

Your gaze lingered on his hand touching yours, on the warmth that spread through your skin at the contact. Be professional, you reminded yourself. This is not real.

With a genuine smile, you nodded, careful not to move a muscle, not wanting to disrupt the moment, to risk the chance of him retracting his hand. "Then please, I'd love to hear.”

And so he did. Azriel spoke of his mother, of growing up admiring her long hair and the way she smelled of pine and snow. He realized that he had never talked so much about himself, never shared such intimate details about his life. He realized, too, that he quite liked it. He liked talking to you. He liked you.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Days and nights had passed, Azriel was sure of it, but he was never tired, never slept. Time worked so differently here– he wasn’t aware of it passing, wasn’t aware of what he’d done the day before or even hours prior. All he was aware of was the peace in his heart, how it radiated throughout his body, relieving him of centuries worth of tension. Amidst it all was you, a companion Azriel had grown to enjoy— to adore, if he was being honest with himself.

You were kind and patient, welcoming in a way that had him opening up to you, telling you stories that he’d never dared to share with anyone else. There was no fear of being vulnerable here, with you, no threat he had to worry about, no anxiety regarding a new enemy or an evil to defeat. It was all so easy.

Azriel walked through the hallways of the House of Wind, taking in the familiar sense of home that filled it, the beauty of the sun-warmed stone. He found himself outside of his own room, staring in at the space. It was strange to think that his body, his real body, lay in another bedroom, in another home— in a form of existence that he no longer held. It was all so very strange. But he didn’t mind, not anymore.

He felt you before he heard you, a gentle breeze fanning over him, a smell of sweetness filling his nose. He turned to face you, taking in your presence, the cream dress that adorned your figure. It was there again, the subtle halo around your head, framed by faint rays of sunlight.

“Hello, Azriel.” You greeted with a large smile. He mirrored the gesture almost instantly.

“Hello, y/n.”

You took a few steps forward, craning your head to peer into the room behind him, past the doorway he stood under.

“Is this your room?”

“Yes,” He said, taking a step aside to allow for you to pass him as you entered. “One of many. My family, they have many places to call home.”

“Do you miss them?” You asked, casting a glance over your shoulder as you moved around his room, “Your family, I mean.”

Azriel stilled for a moment. He hadn’t thought of them as much as he would have expected, a part of him felt guilty for not being as heartbroken. He did miss his family– he was worried about them, about how they were doing, if his help was needed. But he didn’t feel a rush to return to his life, no nauseating need to fix his current situation, to be healed and awake.

“Yes.” He replied. He watched as you walked around, carefully taking in your surroundings. His room wasn’t very interesting— simple decorations that had already been placed before he took residence, various random books.

“Where do you disappear to?” Azriel asked.

You turned to look at him, taking him in for the first time since you entered. It was still there, you noticed, the sense of calm on his face, the evidence of a serene ease. His eyes held a lightness that you’d seen grow since he first came to you. His shoulders were relaxed, his wings comfortably fanned out behind him in an open and unhurried sprawl.

To do your job, you thought. The duties of a Reaper. Visiting souls in distress, leading them to their peace swiftly– efficiently. Not staying with them, not keeping them company. No, those were things you’d reserved for Azriel. You only hoped that The Mother wasn’t angry, that your affinity for him didn’t disrupt a delicate balance.

“As much as I enjoy our time together, I still have duties to fulfill,” You replied. “Did you miss me?”

You intended for it to be a joke, a lighthearted comment that would make him laugh– a melodic sound you had gotten used to recently, one that you savored and replayed in your mind. Yet Azriel’s eyes met yours with a serious gaze.

“Yes,” He answered, his voice sincere. “I did.”

Something in your chest fluttered and your mouth parted, a pleasant shiver rolling through your body. There was a small heat that rose to your cheeks. For a moment, you looked at the floor, composing yourself before meeting his gaze again. A genuine smile graced your lips as you softly admitted, "I missed you, too."

A few moments later, you walked along Azriel as he shared stories about his home, his brothers, and the various experiences he'd had, absorbing each narrative with hungry ears. It was a beautiful thing to see, Azriel open and laughing, the smile on his lips as he recalled favorite memories. This house, The House of Wind as Azriel had called it, was filled with life– his life. You could feel it everywhere as you walked. There was a small tug at your heart. He had a life. A beautiful, real life.

Eventually, you both stopped at a large window, the outside world spread before you in a breathtaking view. Azriel found his gaze dropping to the streets below, devoid of the usual bustling life he was used to. Faintly, a small ache hit the back of his head. He blinked it away. Then, he frowned slightly, a realization hitting him that he didn’t enjoy seeing the streets empty– that something felt missing. He turned to look at you, brows furrowed.

"Do you ever get lonely?"

The question lingered in the air for a moment, stealing the air from your lungs. Why it seemed to strike, you couldn’t tell, but it left a burn in its wake. You let out a deep breath as you looked up at Azriel.

“The Mother blessed me with a duty that is fulfilling.”

Azriel looked at you, studying your response. A sense of sadness filled him, a gentle ache in his heart at the idea, at the image of you alone, wandering the empty streets. Softly, he spoke, "That's not what I asked."

A wave of emotion washed over you. There was a sanctity to your duties, to the job that you held. You were honored to help The Mother, to be the one that granted such peace. You never knew that you could feel such longing, such a desire to be someone else, something else, until you met Azriel the first time he crossed. And then the time after. And now.

"Yes, Azriel,” you admitted, “I do.”

As you both stood in the quiet moment, the stunning view from the window still visible in your peripheral vision, you looked at Azriel. You took in his details—the tousle of his hair, the gleam in his eyes—committing the scene to memory. This was an image you wanted to save forever, one of him so close, so connected.

Azriel broke the silence with another question, "Why do you do that? Say my name so often?"

You didn’t realize that the frequency in which you used his name was noticeable. It rolled off your tongue so easily, so naturally. You thought about it for a moment, thought about the feeling you got before you said it.

"Would you prefer me to call you by something else?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as you observed Azriel's expressions. "Shadowsinger, or Spymaster?"

His response was immediate and he took a step forward as he spoke. "No," Azriel said, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I-I like it."

You smiled at him. "I suppose I do it to make sure you feel seen."

A flicker of confusion crossed Azriel's face, his brows knitting together. "Seen?"

"To show you that you're not just what you do," you explained, your voice carrying a quiet sincerity. Your words trailed off softly. A beat passed, and then you added, "At least not to me."

In his hundreds of years of life, Azriel was never seen. He had been perceived, observed, even known, but never truly seen. Not like the way you looked at him, the way you allowed him to breathe, allowed him to exist as nothing more than simply Azriel.

Your gaze held seemed to see beyond the layers he had meticulously built around himself for so long, beyond the titles and responsibilities that often defined him. For the first time, he felt a sense of vulnerability mingled with relief—a feeling of being understood in a way he hadn't experienced before, in a way he never felt he deserved. A warmth spread through his body, starting from the pit of his stomach and radiating outward, enveloping him in a comforting embrace.

Without even realizing it, his hand moved towards you, lifting a strand of your hair and gently holding it between his scarred fingers. In the past, he would have hesitated to touch another person so intimately, but in this moment, there was no hesitation, no sense of reluctance, only a pull to you and you only. Was this part of what it meant to be a Reaper? He wondered, to cause such comfort in those you kept company? To make them feel like this?

He watched the way the strand of hair caught the light, twirling it between his fingers with a tenderness he had never known himself capable of. He met your eyes, slightly widened, observing him intently. With a soft smile, Azriel spoke, "I see you too, Y/n.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

His view was filled with rolling hills, vibrant in green hues, a gentle afternoon sun in the sky. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of babbling brooks and streams, a soothing melody that seemed to blend seamlessly with the rustle of the wind through the grass, through the leaves of the trees that surrounded you. Azriel understood why Mor was so fond of her estate, why she ran off to it when she could. If it was surrounded with views like this, with such quiet life, beautiful life, he would escape to it, too. Beside him, you lay on the soft grass, your hair spread out around you like a halo.

Despite the open air, Azriel felt groggy, his eyelids heavier than they’d felt in a while. Something felt strange, a trickling sense of anxiety within his body. The wind in his hair and the air on his arms, on his wings, didn’t feel the same— it wasn’t as lively, wasn’t as strong. There was a sharp throb in the back of his head, sending a sudden wave of pain crashing over him. He grimaced and let out a low groan.

Instinctively, you jumped up at the sound, angling your body to face him, concern painting your features. Your heart dropped as you watched him bring a hand to the back of his head, brows furrowed in discomfort.

Amidst pained groans, Azriel turned to you with a frown. "I’m sorry. I just- I keep having these horrible headaches.”

You let out a small breath.

"It's because you're healing," you murmured softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. Your gaze lingered on him, sadness flickering across your features. When Azriel’s eyes met yours, you quickly blinked away any evidence of it, calling forward a gentle, unassuming, face.

His hand dropped slowly from the back of his head. "I am?" he echoed.

You extended your hand, hovering it gently over the back of his head where his hand had been moments ago. "This is where you damaged your skull," you explained softly,. "The injury that got you... Well, here. With me." Your gaze swept around the tranquil surroundings, a small, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Any progress in your physical body, you feel here too," you continued, your voice tender yet matter-of-fact. "The ache is calling you back."

"Back to my life," Azriel murmured, the words barely audible as they slipped from his lips, softening and fading before they fully formed.

You nodded, a lump in the back of your throat.

Azriel's expression shifted abruptly, a flash of tension replacing the settled calmness that had graced his face for quite some time now. "I don't want to go back," he said. It was a tone of voice you’d never heard from him before, a sense of desperation that didn’t fit him.

You shook your head gently. "You don't mean that.”

But Azriel remained resolute. Moving closer, he reached out, his hand coming to rest atop yours on your thigh. "I do," he insisted, his tone unwavering. “Y/n, I do.”

“Azriel,” You said sternly. “You have a life waiting for you, a long life.”

“But I’m so tired. All the time,Y/n” he admitted, his voice heavy with weariness. “And this,” he gestured around him, his eyes lingering on the rolling green hills, "this is the most at peace I’ve ever felt."

You felt a selfish impulse, a desire to indulge in his fantasy, to urge him to stay, to fight against the inevitable pull back to reality. But you knew it wasn't fair, that it wasn’t right. If you truly cared for someone, you had to be fair to them. And you cared for Azriel– cared for him in a way you’d never felt before.

“But it’s not real,” you interjected softly, leaning in, your brows furrowed, your forehead creased with concern. "This isn’t a life.This isn’t a reality— this is an in-between. Sooner or later, you will find yourself on one end.”

Azriel couldn’t understand. His heart hurt. Why weren’t you agreeing with him? Why weren’t you telling him to stay, convincing him it was worth it? This peace he felt with you, this quiet life you lived, he could stay. He would stay.

“You’re real,” he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation. “And right now, this...” he trailed off, his gaze sweeping over your face, "this feels real to me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling knots tightening in your stomach, a lump forming in your throat. You swallowed down the words you wanted to say, replacing the ones on your tongue with those he needed to hear.

"I'm a Reaper," you said, reminding him of the inevitable separation it entailed. His eyes, a dark, almost sad brown, met yours. “Reapers aren’t meant to stay.”

The knots in your stomach were twisting now, weaving themselves through your ribs. It was hard for you to breathe, hard for you to look at Azriel as he stared at you with such clear hurt on his face. He couldn’t stay. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t the plan. Azriel was going to return to a life where he would not remember you, a life in which you didn’t exist. And you would remain here, waiting in a form of existence that had no time.

"Your family misses you," you continued, your gaze unwavering as you locked eyes with him. The knots now wrapped around your heart, squeezing. "You still have things to do. They need you. You need them."

Surely your heart was about to burst, the pressure in your chest now overwhelming– crushing you, your heartbeat erratic.

“Come with me.” Azriel said.

You let out a small breath, a soft laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his suggestion. It sounded so simple, so easy, but you knew better. It wasn't that simple, life was never that easy. You were a Reaper. He was a soul. Before you could respond, Azriel continued, his voice still gentle but earnest.

"You'll love them. And you'll love Velaris when it is filled with people. With life."

His eyes bore into you, seemingly searching for something, trying to memorize every contour of your face, every flicker of emotion that danced across your features.

"I can't," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of your duty. You shook your head again as you tightened your lips for a moment. "That's not how this works.”

Azriel's demeanor softened, a small breath of defeat escaping him as his wings drooped slightly. He took in everything you said, his gaze flickering down to where his hand still rested atop yours before meeting your eyes again.

"I don’t want to leave you here," he said quietly.

Here, alone, he thought. It was true, everything was so beautiful in this form of existence. It was quiet, serene, and calm. The nights were beautiful, the days were glorious. But without you, it would have been empty. Void of life. He didn’t want that for you, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you in such a vast space. It felt wrong.

You recognized the concern in his eyes, realizing that his desperation stemmed from a place of caring– caring for you. It struck a chord within you, stirring a bittersweet pang in your chest, right beside your rapidly beating, tied up heart. Somehow, knowing that he cared for you only made you care for him more, deepening the sorrow that lingered in you, the feeling that now coursed through your veins.

Tilting your head, you offered him a soft smile, a gesture of reassurance, you hoped. "Azriel," you said gently, your voice tinged with a warmth he had grown to love, "I'll be alright. I'm happy here. It's where I belong."

It wasn’t all a lie. This was where you belonged, and you would be alright. But you weren’t sure if you’d be happy. Happiness wasn’t something you used to think of. You had a duty, a sacred, important duty, nothing else really mattered— not yourself, not your desires, not your heart.

Azriel took in your answer, swallowing the urge to fight it, to convince you further. But the pleading in your eyes, coupled with the ache in his chest and the heaviness in his stomach, left him feeling defeated. With a resigned nod, he looked at you, his voice soft but determined.

"I'll find you," he whispered.

You blinked, caught off guard by the soft declaration.

"I'll find you," Azriel said again, his tone firmer, as if he were making a promise that he intended to keep.

You understood the sentiment behind his words, recognizing the determination in his eyes. You knew, without needing to discuss it, that as a skilled spymaster, he possessed the ability to find people. Yet, deep down, you also understood the inevitable truth—that soon, he would forget you, forget the time you spent together. The thought caused a sharp ache in your heart, one you preferred not to dwell on.

So, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded and murmured, "Okay." And offered him a smile.

You sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air around you. Breathing in the crisp, fresh air, you let the sounds of nature wash over you, grounding you in the present moment. Your gaze lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory, as if carving it into your very being. You wanted to remember this. Remember him, his touch, his care for you.

Azriel—the shadowsinger, the spymaster, a skilled killer. And then there was you—the servant of the Mother, a guide for souls, bound by duty and devotion. Death and his Reaper. What a poetic pair you made.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was time.

You had been right, when you talked him down before, sitting on the beautiful green hill. Azriel had a life to return to, a family he missed– a family that missed him. He didn’t belong here, no matter how much he wished he could. He could feel it, nestled within his ribs, a deep pull to his body.

Azriel stood in the familiar confines of the River house, his gaze fixed on the bed where his physical form lay peacefully. He took in the sight of his body, now filled with color, vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the pale, lifeless form he had been when he first awoke.

A sense of disorientation washed over him as he realized he was back here, in this room, though he couldn't recall making the conscious decision to return. From behind him, he felt your presence, a familiar energy that always seemed to embrace him with a comfortable warmth, the sweet smell in his nose.

"I didn't even realize I was coming here.” Azriel said.

Without turning, he heard your soft voice. "You never do," you replied simply, “Your body calls and you answer.”

Azriel nodded slowly, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He breathed out heavily. He longed to turn and look at you, to embrace your presence, trace the features of your face. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to confront the truth that lay before him—that he wanted to go back, back to the land of the living, to his family, to embrace his life once more. But he wasn't ready for what he needed to do in order to return– wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you.

“Azriel,” You said, as you gently placed your hand on his arm. He turned to look at you, his heart skipping a beat.The faelight cast a soft glow on your body, illuminating the delicate features of your face, dancing through your hair like shimmering strands of moonlight. And there it was—the small, reassuring smile that you had offered him so many times before. The smile you had given to him when he first woke up, afraid and alarmed, in the same place he stood now.

He couldn't help but feel a flicker of happiness at the sight of your gentle smile, but just as quickly as the feeling washed over him, it was replaced by a bittersweet pang of realization. The reality of why you were here, why you were looking at him with such tender affection, why he could barely feel your touch— and why his head throbbed with searing pain. He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping form, and then looked at you again.

“Y/n, I-”

You gently shook your head, a soft shushing sound escaping your lips as you reached out to calm him. "It's okay," you reassured him, your voice gentle but firm. "You won’t feel a thing."

But Azriel shook his head too, his expression filled with concern as he took your hands in his. "That's not what I'm worried about," he admitted quietly.

You met his gaze, taking in every detail of his face, breathing in his scent. Your gaze drifted towards his wings, so beautiful, so powerful. And then you looked back at him.

"I'll be okay."

It was a promise, not just to him, but to yourself.

Azriel's senses dulled and the pain intensified, a sense of desperation washed over him. He thought back to your conversations earlier. He never figured out how time worked here, perhaps the conversation had been days ago, even weeks. But, to him, it felt like hours prior. Maybe a day, if he was being generous. Still, his mind raced with thoughts, with things he wanted to tell you, to ask of you, things that hadn’t been there before. Ask me what you really want to, Azriel, you had said, so he did.

“Am I worthy?” His voice rang out, unsure, afraid— of the answer, of what the question meant. “Am I worthy of this life? Is… is it worth it?”

You smiled. A broad, bright, and kind smile.

You felt Azriel's hands tremble slightly in yours, guiding them to your lips. With tender reverence, you pressed a small, tender kiss upon his scarred flesh. “Yes,” you whispered, “If only you knew.”

You understood now, why The Mother always urged for a swift journey. You weren’t supposed to spend such intimate times with your souls, you weren’t supposed to grow comfortable in their presence, to learn about their favorite candies and the way their mothers smelled. You weren’t supposed to because it distracted you from your duty– and more importantly, you weren’t supposed to because it prevented you from the heartache you felt now. A piercing pain in your chest, a heaviness in your stomach.

You lifted a hand and gently placed it on his cheek. The warmth of your touch radiated through his body, sending a wave of indescribable sensation coursing through him. The world seemed to blur around him, the ringing in his ears drowning out all other sound. He squinted against the growing brightness, his head throbbing with a relentless ache. He heard your voice, soft like honey, sweet like tea, whispering in his ear in perfect clarity.

“Goodbye, Azriel.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel jolted upright, his body propelled by a surge of adrenaline that left him momentarily breathless. With a deep inhale, he struggled to steady his racing heart, his surroundings swimming into focus with agonizing slowness.

Each detail of the room seemed to materialize before him in excruciating detail, from the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window to the faint murmur of voices drifting from the doorway. His hand instinctively went to the back of his head, a gesture born of instinct rather than any physical discomfort. Confusion furrowed his brow as he tried to recall why he had woken with such a start, where he currently was, why he laid on a bare bed, but the memory seemed frustratingly out of reach– blurry and unfocused.

As Azriel's eyes adjusted to the soft light filtering through the room, the door creaked open, a distant sound barely registering in his slow mind. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, a blur of motion filled his vision and Cassian was upon him, bounding forward with a crushing embrace. "There's my boy!"

With a startled gasp, Azriel felt the air rush out of his lungs as Cassian's hug engulfed him, the force of the impact momentarily disorienting him further than he already was. A small, involuntary sound—a mixture of surprise and amusement—escaped his lips as he tried to regain his bearings. Azriel's gaze flickered past Cassian’s broad shoulders, to where Rhysand stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.

"Okay, Cass," Rhysand said, walking towards the bed. "Let him breathe. We don’t want to give him another head injury."

Cassian released Azriel from his enthusiastic embrace, though a joyous gleam danced in his eyes as he stepped back, offering Azriel a sheepish grin. "My bad," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment, “I just missed ya.”

Rhysand stood casually, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. "If you were seeking attention, Az, you could've simply asked," he said with a wave of his hand. "No need to resort to dying for it."

The comment elicited a shocked blink from Azriel, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I- What?" he echoed. A few of his shadows slithered up his arms, wrapping themselves across his shoulders, the cool trail of them relieving tension in his upper body.

Rhysand let out a small laugh as he clapped him on the shoulder with a reassuring grin. "You have a lot of catching up to do, brother," Rhysand remarked, “Let's get you back to the land of the living.”

Azriel offered a small, uncertain laugh in response, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a hesitant smile, his mind still cloudy, disoriented. Rhysand and Cassian began talking, referring to him, attempting to fill Azriel in, but he wasn’t paying attention, their voices blending into a distant hum.

Instead, Azriel's attention was drawn to an inexplicable warmth on his cheek. Instinctively, he lifted his hand and gently touched the spot, feeling the comforting heat beneath his fingertips. He frowned, trying to make sense of the sensation, but the warmth seemed to soothe his lingering disorientation, grounding him in the present moment with a sense of…ease.

Azriel's attention shifted towards the corner of the room, where a soft beam of sunlight filtered through the window. A handful of his shadows floated and twirled, their graceful movements dancing within the warm glow. He smiled, tilting his head at the sight, his hand still on his cheek. What a beautiful sight, Azriel thought. And then he was turning his attention back to his brothers, a wide smile now on his cheeks.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

y'all... imagine meeting ur soulmate but u can only see her when ur dead and cant remember her otherwise lol sucks for azriel.

#azriel #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotarfandom #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel one shot #acotar oneshot

1K notes · View notes

ceruleancattail · 1 year

Note

Ahhh I love ur writing!! Can I get Malleus, Leona and Azul's reaction to a cat following them around all day and being super affectionate with them only to find out the cat is not a stray but actually you (bc Ace and Grim messed up and you got turned into a cat) thx!!

A Cat-aclysm!

Malleus does take kindly to small things. Especially if it’s been nuzzling up to him the entire day. A feline of dubious origin, with a rather soft coat of fur. He would know. It seemed content, rubbing against his leg as he sat.

Kneeling down, Malleus slips his hands under the cat’s front paws. Lifting it up carefully, staring into its eyes.

“What are you doing, little one?”

A slow blink, before the cat’s jaws swung open in a yawn. It gazed at Malleus, eyes clouded with sleepiness. Leaning it’s head into Malleus’s hands, purring in delight.

A rather affectionate creature. Perhaps Malleus will keep it around for awhile. This Feline amuses him.

Malleus lifts the cat up, cradling it close to his chest. Prefect does have experience with these creatures. He’ll drop by Ramshackle dorm for a tip or two.

“PREFECT!” A yowl, before a blur of grey rammed into Malleus’ boots. Flames of blue crackle, as the assailant glanced upwards. A grey cat with fire blooming out of his ears, dancing with the winds. Grim, of Ramshackle Dorm.

His eyes light up in recognition.

“Hornton! Ugrh, of course they went straight for you.”

Stretching out his paws, Grim beckons at the cat.

“Come on, Prefect. We got the restoration potion up and running… at least, Ace thinks he has.”

A moment of silence, as Malleus attempts to comprehend the situation. He peers down at the cat in his hands, before turning his gaze on Grim, a million questions apparent in his eyes.

Grim crossed his paws, before letting out a huff of annoyance.

“That right there would be my sidekick. Just a lil’ potion mishap, but we’ll fix ‘em right up! So if you’ll excuse us…”

Positioning himself above you, Grim bites down carefully. Picking you up by the scruff of your neck, he storms off.

Malleus watches you two, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Really, it’s much like watching a mother cat and her kitten. It’s adorable. You’re adorable.

Honestly? Malleus wouldn’t mind if you took to cuddling with him in your human form. As endearing as you are as a feline, he much prefers your arms around his.

Cats are elegant creatures, are they not? Prancing around with their head held high. Soft, gentle footfalls with their padded paws. Such sly, observant eyes as well!

Of course, those points didn’t really apply to the… creature under his desk. Lying on it’s back, baring it’s furry stomach for all to see. It was a cat, the same way a wolf was considered to be related to a pug.

Curling it’s paws upwards, the cat seemed happy to bat at the loose ends of his coat. Azul watches with an apprehensive gaze. He’s not too sure how a cat managed to sneak in Mostro Lounge. Of course, it could be a prank by one of the Leeches. However, this seemed a little mild, for a prank by them.

Especially with a creature as.. cute as it was. Rolling around on the ground, the cat’s eyes meet his. A yowl of delight, before it slid over to his legs. Wrapping itself around Azul’s ankle, the cat settled onto its hunches. Each purr rumbled from the cravens of its chest, ticking Azul’s skin.

Despite himself, Azul couldn’t stop himself for reaching down. He rubs the cat’s head, humming to himself. Business do regard beckoning cats as bringer of good fortune, no?

His office was rather empty as of late. He wouldn’t mind terribly, taking this cat in his care…

A thundering crash.

Azul’s door was swung open, nearly flying off its hinges. A student dashed forward, hoisting the cat up from the ground. Holding it close to his chest, Ace heaved a sigh of relief. Although that relief soon turned into frustration, with the cat wiggling in his arms in a bid for freedom.

“Trappola, I must ask the meaning of this intrusion-“

A dismissal wave from Ace.

“This lil’ critter would be dear Prefect. They got into a little… mishap. Thanks for looking after them, though.”

With a half-hearted salute of appreciation, Ace slinked out of the office. Muffled protests and threats could be heard from the outside, with Ace threatening to drown you in the antidote.

Azul watches you two leave, with a somewhat melancholy smile playing on his lips. To think that you would be so affectionate to him… it’s sweet. Really.

Leona does not take kindly to anyone who dares interrupt his naps. He’s spent his day scouting for that spot, perfectly warmed by the sun, but still somewhat shaded. A comfortable balmy temperature, just right for him to shut his eyes and drift off into slumber…

Who did this cat think it was? Curling up under his arm, fluffy head rubbing into his skin. Tail swishing in annoyance, Leona responses to its advances with a growl. A guttural one, from deep in his chest.

The cat perked it’s head up, and gave him a stare of displeasure. A no-nonsense face, strangely reminiscent of a certain prefect.

Really now, how bold of it. Looking at him, the prince of the afterglow savanna straight in the eye. His hand creeps behind the cat, picking it by the scruff of its neck. A mewl of surprise, before it spat at Leona.

A chuckle, before Leona lifted the cat up into the air. Holding it above his lips, his jaws opened, snapping playfully under the cat’s body. It tended up immediately, whimpering quietly.

“That’s better, you lil’ runt. You know your place.” A drawl, dripping with mockery. He watched the cat wiggle about within his clutches. What do you know, this little guy had some fight in it. Leona could respect that.

He releases the cat, letting it fall against his stomach with a plop. Reaching up, Leona scratches the scalp of its head absentmindedly. He strokes the cat, sighing. It was a comfortable weight on his chest, warm to the touch. Much like a blanket, settling around Leona’s soul.

A snort, before Leona settles back down. Guess he doesn’t mind keeping a little kitty around. His eyelids flutter back shut.

Before the obnoxious sounds of leaves rustling finally wears down his patience. Leona gets up, snarling at whoever dared to tread on the grass. A startled yelp, before a student creeped forward. With an apologetic smile, Deuce emerged from the bushes.

“Sorry about that,Leona…” a pause, before Deuce’s eyes widen.

“Prefect? There you are!” Duece takes a knee, before pulling you into his arms. You hiss weakly, but curl into his arms without a struggle.

Leona raises an eyebrow. Prefect? That mangy cat? Odd, but not improbable.

“Prefect got into… an accident in potions. They turned into a cat… but we’ve got a cure all ready to go. They’ll be back to normal in no time!” With a slight bow to Leona, Deuce turns to take his leave.

A hand wraps around Deuce’s arm.

“Wait.” A single word. Spoken with all the authority of a king issuing his orders.

As if his feet grew roots, Deuce froze on the spot. That second of hesitation was all Leona needed. Fishing you out of Deuce’s arms, Leona opted to sling you over his shoulders. A purr of joy, before you buried your head into the crook of his neck.

“I’ll come with you. I have my doubts about your.. self proclaimed ‘cure’, Deuce.”

Leona doesn’t want to let you go.

At least, not so soon.

By offering to help, he’ll be able to hold you, even if it’s just for a bit longer.

6K notes · View notes

frogchiro · 3 months

Note

Once you have a kid Nikto puts in a "cheese tax" but it is instead a "milk tax" that whenever you feed your baby you have to let him suck as well and have some milk

You'd genuinely have to push your husband's head away while you craddle your baby as he continues to feed from you, totally unaware of his greedy father's antics and what he puts his momma through :(

The thing is that even since you found out you're pregnant with Nikto, he became obsessed with you even more than usual. He would be barking like a guard dog if someone came too close for his liking to you, and when you started lactating? Man lost his mind :((

He'd be almost constantly at your tit, sucking down the milk and even sneaking a gentle bite to tease you and make you gasp and whine since you're so so sensitive but Nikto just smirks nastily and continues his antics.

You often teased him that this stops when your little one is born because based on the father of your baby it's gonna be a big one and will need all the nutricious milk it can get to be big and healthy. Nikto always laughed off your threats, waving his hand and saying 'Yeah, yeah, I'll worry when that lil shit arrives' and...well.

Now your husband feels like he needs to compete with the three week old boy for your attention and your milk, but he's not very surprised. After all you little boy is his son, his carbon copy, so it's basically in his genes to be greedy! You always chuckle and shake your head at your man and look down to your baby as you continue breastfeeding him as his big blue eyes open and shine up at his mom before letting go and letting out a happy coo <33

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #nikto x reader #nikto cod #cod nikto #call of duty nikto

1K notes · View notes

kittenintheden · 3 months

Text

Let Go

just a horny lil thing nbd

Rating: E Word Count: >1k Content: 18+, fluff, gentle sex, making love on a bearskin rug and being mushy about it, gender neutral reader

---

It's taken time, encouragement, and familiarity to reach this point, but you're here now. Lost in bliss, riding your love's lap as he continues to take his pleasure in you. You've come already, of course, because Astarion is nothing if not a stubbornly attentive lover.

It's been work for both of you to get to this place of true comfort, of true loving abandon, and it's been so very worth it. Your post-orgasmic haze leaves your focus soft and glowing, your hands knit together behind his neck as you ride him, watching him finally let himself go and enjoy the moment to the fullest. A little selfishness. A little self-focus.

His eyes are closed as he sinks into the sensation of you, his arms wrapped around your back as he thrusts up, up, up, your body gently bouncing from it. Long and languid strokes going much sloppier than he'd normally allow, so many months ago, but he's no longer obsessed with the performance of the thing. He's here. He's inside you. He's letting himself feel it all.

Astarion takes a hand from your back and spreads it out against the bearskin rug where you're making love, giving himself more leverage as he lifts himself into your pliant heat. His breath comes in short bursts, little puffs past his lips. He tries to interject his favorite sultry quips when he can -- he is a man who loves the sound of his own voice -- but even those come out piecemeal.

"So hot inside," he pants, resting his forehead against the side of your cheek. "Feel so… bloody good. Want to… want to… I… please can I…"

You watch his face, the tension between his brows as his pleasure climbs, the way his lips part, the tips of his teeth just peeking through. His hair, his pride, falling unkempt and sweaty across his forehead. Your own body is stretched with aching pleasure, your recent peak leaving you sated and delighting in the simple joy of feeling him inside you.

It's magic, seeing him like this. No grand gestures, no performative moves, no catalog of exciting positions. Its just you, and him, and your collective ecstasy. Your collective love made physical. You smile to yourself, secret, and reach up gentle fingers to caress his ear, thumb rubbing soft circles, stroking along it lobe to tip, and he groans as he leans his head into it.

"Going to make… going to make me come, I… can't…" he stutters.

You know. You know exactly what you're doing, and you're rewarded with a long roll of his hips up into yours, his fingers gripping you tight, and the wrinkle in his brow smoothing out into relaxed rapture as his mouth stretches into a lazy, contented smile before it drops open. You watch the journey across his face as he reaches the crest of his wave and then crashes down with it to the other side.

He holds you tighter to him as he shivers, his last thrusts shallow and messy.

"Gods, gods, gods," he whimpers, going softer, going weaker, going still.

When he finally opens his heavy eyelids to look upon you, you know there are stars in your eyes. There is simply nothing like watching him let go for you. With you.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #kitten writes

1K notes · View notes

gl1tteryzebra · 2 months

Note

Rafe teaching u how to touch urself and make urself cum

🧟‍♀️grrrr this is so bfb!rafe coded...I love it, thanks anon! (was not proofread)

it's not like he meant to eavesdrop, you just happen to have an extraordinary loud mouth.

but now that he was here, back pressed against the hallway that led into the kitchen as you blabber about your situation, how unsatisfied, how used you felt— rafe realised that he was indeed being invasive. he couldn’t help it. your admission keeps circulating around his head like a damn mantra– no guy has ever been bothered to make you cum.

maybe they didn’t know how to— the blonde briefly surmised —but even still this alternate was no less of a disgrace.

you were a friend of the family, but mostly one to sarah. rafe was fairly indifferent to you as a kid, your presence at tannyhill so common that you became a consistent part of his life, something to expect...that was until you transformed into a woman.

suddenly you were flouncing around in the shortest skirts, tits half hanging out of skimpy bathing suits, batting those long eyelashes up at him like some lost puppy in desperate need of guidance. it drove him crazy, thwarted his sleep, consumed his waking mind. but now he has leverage, an excuse to finally act on his depraved thoughts– and you best bet he pounced at the opportunity.

“nah, don’t be closin’ those pretty eyes. watch.”

he had you perched on his lap, legs pliantly spread before his wardrobe mirror. it was a sight for sore eyes, your leaking hole clenching sporadically around nothing as his fingertips danced along the expanse of your inner thigh– teasing.

“see how fuckin' sensitive you are? bet you would cum if I just told you to," his lips stretched into a impish smirk as you writhed, a meek mewl clawing its way out of your throat– his crass words turning you to putty. "but you gotta learn for yourself, don't you?"

you nodded, sighing in relief as he finally ventured further, dipping his index finger inside your walls slowly. his other hand held your chin, ensuring your attention did not wander. "can't have these assholes leavin' you disappointed, this fuckin' wet."

"ah– rafe," you cried out as he added another, head thrashing from side to side in an attempt to evade the wave of pleasure that crashed upon you. it was silly to think he'd allow that, reminding you to be good with a warning nip to the neck.

"this parts important, kay? watch." you did to the best of your ability, glossy eyes directed intently at his thumb as it swirled around your puffy button, applying a gentle pressure.

"feels good, huh?" his cadence dropped into something dark and undeniably sultry. "how about this?"

you gasped in surprise as his fingers lodged within the warmth of your walls began to crook forward, tapping something that sent you crooning.

"so-so good!" came your choked reply

"think you could do it yourself? make yourself cum on your fingers?" he chuckled, genuinely tickled, as you looked at him as though he hung the stars and moon in the sky– brain completely empty. "nah, didn't think so. that's al'ight, keep watching I'll show you."

sincerely ~ 🦓༝༚༝༚ (got a lil lazy towards the end, soz)

#rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #obx smut #divider by @fairytopea

888 notes · View notes

ivybucky · 7 months

Text

First Time - b.b. x gn!reader

Summary: You have a habit of calling people by cute nicknames or monikers, and Bucky isn't sure why it made him feel so good.

a/n: I'm breaking my hiatus finally!!! this is just a cute lil fic somewhat based on first time by hozier without the thought-provoking underlying angst. 1.9k

Content/Warnings: tfaws!Bucky, fluff, pining, tfaws fight scenes, zemo mention, multiple Sam appearances, references to fights/violence, use of y/n, use of the nickname doll when referring to the reader, friends to lovers? (let me know if i'm forgetting anything)

Masterlist

Believe it or not, Bucky Barnes tried to not think about his past.

Though his efforts to make amends were a work-in-progress, and his name was brought up in the press more often than he preferred, Bucky Barnes tried to think about his past as little as possible.

The first time you called him James was the first time he had liked the way it sounded. You had smiled at him, sweet and welcoming, as Sam introduced the two of you.

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” God, did it fall off your tongue in the nicest way. “Thank you for looking after birdbrain over here.” You giggled at Sam’s distant-sounding protest.

Bucky cracked a sideways smile, not being able to stop himself. “You can call me Bucky, doll.”

Your smile morphed into a sort of smirk, cheeks warming at the nickname he gave you. “Is that what you prefer?”

He hadn’t given it much thought anymore. He knew James as the person who enlisted in the military, the person who fell from the train following Captain America into the throws of war. James was the person who was Hydra’s plaything, the assassin, the monster he was so desperate to forget. Bucky was the charmer, the best friend of Steve Rogers, the swing dancer who had a habit of punching bullies(justified obviously).

Now, he didn’t feel like either. Going by Bucky was the easiest option, since it was the part of him he was desperate to gain back. Talking to you however, he didn’t think he cared what he was called anymore.

He gave you a soft grin, one that may have held a bit more meaning than flirtation. “I don’t mind either, you can call me whatever you want.”

—

The first time you called him by any kind of nickname was the day they went to Madripoor.

“Sammy! Buck!” You called their names as you waved big at them from the small airport hangar.

Bucky tried to slow his heart as the pair walked closer to you. Sam let out a chuckle next to him, a teasing smile thrown his way. “Hope you don’t mind the extra company, Buck.”

With a frown and a grumble, Bucky widened his gait, the toe of his shoe catching on Sam’s, causing him to trip up momentarily. “Don’t call me that.”

He reached you first, allowing his smile wider further than before. “Hi Y/N, what’re you doin’ here?”

You placed a gentle hand on his left shoulder, rubbing back and forth. “It’s good to see you too,” you chuckled. “Sam told me what you guys are doing with Zemo. He thought I might be able to provide some kind of help, right Sam?”

Sam walked up with somehow both a smirk and scowl on his face and pulled you into a quick hug. “That’s right, though I might’ve invited you along so that I’m not the only one putting up with his old ass.”

Bucky scoffed, trying to ignore the lack of warmth from your otherwise occupied hands. “Are you sure about this, doll? This is probably gonna end with all of us on a watch list.”

You nudged his shoulder, your own smirk gracing your features. “As if I wasn’t on one already.”

The boys both chuckled, before Sam spoke up. “Speaking of watchlists, he’s here.”

Boarding the private jet that Zemo just happened to have, Bucky tried to keep his eyes on you the whole time, even as you sat in the leather seat between him and the window.

“I’m sorry, I’m just fascinated by this - I don’t know what to call it,” your brows furrowed at the sentence, at the faint smirk that rested on Zemo’s face. “But this part seems important. Who is Nakajima?”

Bucky was out of his seat in an instant, metal fingers gripped tightly around his throat. Zemo’s face wiped itself of any amusement. Bucky spoke into his ear low and gruff, but it could easily be heard throughout the plane cabin. “You touch that again and I’ll kill you.”

He snatched the notebook back into his and heavily sat back down into his seat, hand wound tight around the small journal

Your fingers reached across his lap and wrapped around his clenched metal fist, thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of his hand. “Just ignore him, sweetheart. You and I both know nothing that man says is worth anything.”

Bucky looked down at your joined hands, then glanced up at you with a small smile. He gave your hand a couple of squeezes, and tried to focus back on the words being said throughout the rest of the plane ride.

—

The first time you called him “baby” was during their fight with John Walker.

Madripoor and Latvia had been filled with silent stares, small smiles, and soft words . Fleeting “friendly” touches ensued as well - Bucky’s hand on your back drawing small circles, your gentle grasp of his hand or arm when he clenched his fist.

Bucky talked to you about Yori, about his too soft mattress, about his too shitty of a therapist, his want to get a cat. You told him about meeting Sam, your agency background, your agreement that he should totally get a cat. And now, you just wished you could have that again.

Walker was too strong, landing solid hits on both Sam and Bucky that could easily start slowing them down. He had lifted the shield over their bodies too many times, clearly holding on to the same psychotic fury he had when he killed the Flagsmasher.

To this point, you stood frozen in watch. You weren’t there when the fight started, and between Sam and John’s current focus on Bucky, you weren’t sure which side needed the most aid.

John had flung Bucky into a nearby metal utility pole for Christ’s sake, and a cry wretched itself from your lips. You ran to his side as he laid on the ground unconscious, metal arm cackling with untamed electricity.

“Bucky,” you murmured as you checked his spine for any breaks. You could hear his breath, as shuddered as it was after an impact like that. You moved him to lay on his back, palm pressed to his cheek. “Bucky, honey, come on, wake up.”

You tapped his cheek a couple of times in slight panic, other hand unconsciously combing his hair back. A couple of moments passed before he groaned and huffed out a cough. “Bucky,” you sighed a breath of relief, eyes near tearing up as the tension left your body. “Are you hurt, baby?”

He sat up with a grimace, another groan leaving his lips. “What the fuck?”

“He took the serum,” your hands had yet to leave his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He looked up at you with a wincing smile, still bright enough to make your heart stutter. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” The red gracing your cheeks could be easily based on the intensity of the fight, but it was unsaid knowledge that wasn’t the case. He touched the hand holding his cheek as you swept a thumb back and forth. A grunt from the fight crashed them both back to reality. “He’s gonna kill Sam.”

You stood up, pulling him with you by his metal arm. Bucky swung his arm around to recalibrate before jogging forward. “We gotta get the shield. Be careful, don’t let him pin you.”

____

The first time you kissed him was in Louisiana.

You giggled from the picnic table as you watched Bucky dodge Sam’s nephews, cake in hand, as they tried to tackle him for his arm, as well as when several of the children pleading to hang off of it.

He sat next to you on the bench of the table, shoulder pressing into yours as you basked in Sam and Sarah’s storytelling. Bucky shared some bittersweet stories about Steve, drawing smiles from everyone listening. Each laugh had you leaning into him a bit more, but a complaint could not be heard, especially when your hands brushed under the table.

The evening continued on like that into the early night. Bucky entertained the masses, looking a lot like the charmer he used to be. Sam reminisced with his community, taking many photos with his local family.

You sat on the pier, leaning back against the wooden bench as the sun set over the water’s horizon. You could faintly hear laughter behind you on the dock mixed with the sound of the stereo’s music drifting over. A smile grew on your face as a presence made its way towards you, shoes scuffing against the wooden slats. A soft hand rested on your shoulder and sent warmth through your body. “Care for some company, doll?”

You flashed Bucky a smile that had him weak as you turned back to him and patted the space next to him. He sat down close, thigh pressed against yours, shoulder to shoulder yet again.

“What’re you gonna do now, Buck? You think you’re gonna stick around?”

He sighed, staring down at his metal hand in contempt. “I don’t know,” his hand clenched in his lap. “I’ve been following orders for a long time now. Might be good for me to work with someone, not for. Even if birdbrain has a habit of getting on my nerves.”

You reached across his lap and gently unfurled his fingers. He wished the pressure he felt against the metal was more tangible for once, more definitive. “You should do whatever makes you feel the most free, sweetheart.” You slipped both of your hands around his, rubbing small circles with your thumb. “Whether that be with Sam or doing something else. You deserve it.”

Bucky’s eyes drifted over your face and observed its features - the small smile that curled around your lips, the kindness in your eyes. “And what about you?” he spoke softly. “Will you stay?”

You looked up to him and searched his eyes with a hopeful grin. “Are you asking?” you chuckled, using one of your hands to comb his hair back behind his ear, thumb resting on his cheek. “If I’m needed, I’ll stay.”

Bucky puffed out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. “Well ya know,” he threw a bright smile in your direction. “Sam’s gonna need you here so he doesn’t lose his mind.”

You chuckled, leaning a little bit closer. “And you? Do you need me?”

Bucky took in the space between you, the way your breaths mingled, foreheads near touching. “Yeah, baby,” he allowed himself to fully lean in. “I need you.”

You kissing him was like coming up for air, or finding water in the middle of the desert. It was salvation, it was required for him to have in order to survive. Your lips were soft, tasting faintly of the beer you had earlier. His mouth moved against yours like a magnet following them wherever they went. His hand drifted to your waist, moving you somewhat into his lap as you both smiled into the kiss. When you finally broke apart, it was only for the need for oxygen to fill your lungs.

You giggled from above him, heads pressed together. Your hands locked themselves around his shoulders in an embrace that forced him to stay where he could feel the pant of your breath across his skin, not that he was complaining. “I guess I’ll stay then.”

Please reblog and comment! It's my first fic in *two fucking years* and i need to know that this is still good lol

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x gn!reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes #tfaws!bucky x reader #tfaws!bucky barnes x reader #tfaws!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #songfic?#songfic

1K notes · View notes

slu7formen · 16 days

Text

MDNI. luke x fem!reader

you’re back at camp after your quest with Luke, but your mind can’t seem to be able to forget what happened days ago like Luke has, and you’re in the need of a private conversation to clarify some things, and that’s all it has to be, a conversation… right?

part two to this fic <3

warnings: injuries, cursing, arguing, s3x, oral s3x (f receiving), non protected p in v, kissing, biting, slight fluff at the end, kinda dom!luke

lil taglist for those who asked for part two 🫶🏻: @pocototis , @amortiff , @angelfrombeneth , @niceskyler , @onegirlonewriter

₊˚⊹♡

Exhausted. That feeling was clinging to you and Luke like a second skin as you limped back into Camp Half-Blood with Percy and Annabeth at your side. The quest, a blur of adrenaline and monster-slaying, had been a success, but victory came at a price. Luke, his face pale despite the fading sunset, sported a nasty gash across his thigh, a souvenir from an unfortunate encounter with a particularly grumpy cyclop. You, on the other hand, cradled your right arm close to your chest, the throbbing pain in your shoulder escalating with every step.

Despite the aches and groans echoing within your small group, a sense of triumph resonated in the cheers that erupted from the campers milling about the Half-Blood Hill. Your arrival sparked a wave of excited chatter, a flurry of questions about the details of your adventure. The camp bustled with activity, a comforting normalcy after the chaos they'd faced.

"Whoa, guys, you look rough" Grover noted with concern as he approached you. He cast a worried glance at your injured arm.

The Apollo cabin had taken good care of you both. Lee Fletcher, the ever-patient son of Apollo, had fussed over Luke's wound with practiced ease, the gash healing miraculously fast under his ministrations.

"Luke, your cut isn't too bad" Lee declared to him, his voice calm despite the urgency in his eyes. "Just needs some ambrosia and nectar, and you'll be good as new."

You, however, were a different story.

"Dislocated and a hairline fracture" Lee had declared with a frown, his touch surprisingly gentle as he manipulated your injured shoulder back into place. "You've been harboring that injury for a few days now, haven't you?"

You winced, your face flushing slightly. Between the adrenaline rush of the quest and… what happened with Luke, your shoulder was the last thing you thought about besides the pain. "Uh, yeah" you stammered, ashamed even towards the younger camper.

Lee sighed, a hint of exasperation in his eyes, but he gave you a soft smile. “You´ll heal quick, don´t worry, but not as quickly as Luke. You'll have to stay a while longer."

Those "whiles" had stretched into two agonizing days. Two days spent staring at the whitewashed ceiling, the silence broken only by the steps of Apollo campers around you or at the Big House. The days blurred by in a haze of rest and ambrosia.

But you couldn´t stop thinking about Luke.

That-, thing that happened all of a sudden, a moment of raw emotion and desperate vulnerability, replayed endlessly in your mind. The memory of his touch, the warmth of his breath tangling with yours, sent shivers down your spine. It was a betrayal, not just of the rivalry that defined your relationship with Luke, but a betrayal of yourself. You weren't supposed to feel this way about him, the enemy, the bane of your existence.

But the morning after, you just acted as if nothing had happened, you never talked about it. The tension was your new best friend now, a suffocating weight that you couldn't seem to escape. How could you go back to the way things were after experiencing that spark of something —what felt like— more?

Frustration simmered within you. Ignoring what you both experienced felt like burying your head in the sand. Did it mean anything to him? Was it just a fleeting moment of desperation, a shared vulnerability in the face of danger?

Finally, the day arrived when Lee, with a practiced smile and a reassuring pat on your shoulder, declared you fit for duty. Relief washed over you, tinged with a nervous excitement. You practically stumbled out of the infirmary, the familiar sights and sounds of camp a welcome symphony after the sterile monotony of your confinement.

Your eyes scanned the crowded pavilion, searching for the shock of dark and braided hair that always seemed to set your nerves alight. You spotted Annabeth only because she ran to you as soon as she saw you. She pulled you in a hug that almost broke your bones.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. The concern etched on her face as if you had spent three weeks away from her. "How are you feeling? How’s your shoulder?”

“It´s good now, Lee took good care of it” you explained, walking back to the pavilion with her.

The well-wishes of the fellow campers offered a comforting sense of normalcy. Yet, your gaze remained fixed on the Hermes table, searching for a specific face.

"Where's Luke?" you finally asked Annabeth, a knot forming in your stomach.

"Right behind you” came the voice you knew too well.

He stood there, an unreadable mask plastered on his face. The air crackled with tension again, a contrast to the cheerful chatter surrounding you.

"I'm glad you're okay" he said, his voice flat. It was impossible to tell if he meant it or if it was simply a polite formality.

"Same thing" you replied, not really trying your best to put on show for the rest of the campers, or him.

A curt nod was all the reply you received, the gesture felt like a handshake from a stranger. He then turned and walked away, disappearing back to the Hermes table where his half-siblings awaited him.

You settled down at your own table, the clatter of silverware and chatter a welcoming difference to the sterile silence of the infirmary. You reached for the so sacred mashed potatoes you loved, but your appetite seemed to have vanished. Your gaze kept flitting towards the Hermes table, drawn to the mop of dark hair that seemed to defy gravity. He was there, talking with his half-siblings, a faint smile playing on his lips. Sometimes his gaze drifted towards you, his had features tightening, before he quickly looked away. Other times, you'd find his face turned elsewhere, lost in conversation with Chris or the Stoll brothers, who sat in front of him.

One of your cabin half-sisters leaned over, her voice filled with excitement in your ear. "There's supposed to be a party in the woods tonight. Wanna come?"

The temptation was strong. A night of revelry with your friends sounded far more appealing than dwelling on the awkwardness with Luke. But you shook your head instead. "Nah, I think I'll pass," you said, trying to sound casual.

Truth be told, your brain was working with the precision of a well-oiled machine. A hidden party meant curious campers, prying eyes. What you needed was a private conversation, a chance to finally address the elephant in the room.

As the campers began to disperse after dinner, Taking a deep breath, you made your way towards the Hermes table. Most of the campers had already vacated, leaving only a few lingering stragglers. Luke sat alone, a half-eaten plate of food pushed to the side.

His gaze flicked up as you approached. “Ugh. What do you want?” he asks, voice coated with venom.

“Wow, you really are a sweetheart” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “We need to talk”

“What about?” he asked with indifference.

“You know damn well what about” you declared. “Or do you want me to say it, here, how you basically came all over your pan-…?”

“Don´t” he jumped out of his seat, voice dangerously angry and threatening. He looked around, secretly wishing no one around heard you. “Fine. Meet me at the back of my cabin at midnight. I´ll be there”

“Good” you stammered, walking away before anyone else could hear you or see you standing in front of Luke Castellan, talking, for more than five minutes.

The thin wind hit your bare face as you approached Cabin Eleven. The glow from the windows had long been extinguished, replaced by a deep silence that accentuated the nervous pounding in your chest. It was past curfew, a risk you wouldn't normally take, but the need to talk to Luke outweighed the consequences. After all, most campers managed to sneak out for a forbidden rendezvous, why wouldn't you be able to manage a few cabins?

Hugging the shadows, you crept past the silent cabins, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Reaching Cabin Eleven, you tiptoed towards the back of it, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers a sound far too loud in the stillness of the night.

There, leaning against the wall, stood Luke. His arms were crossed over his chest, head down and apparently, lost in thought as he waited for you. Despite the outward facade of coolness he always emerged –or so he tried—, you swore you could detect a flicker of nervousness beneath the surface, a tremor in his gaze that mirrored your own churning emotions.

"Hey" you greeted him softly.

He pushed himself off the wall, arms still crossed over his chest. "Hey. About time."

You rolled your eyes. “I am on time, dumbass”

For a moment, he seemed to be struggling internally, debating the appropriate course of action. Should he maintain his usual bravado, the cocky smirk you hated so much? Or should he shed that facade, acknowledge the vulnerability of the situation, and let it go?

"How's that shoulder?" he finally asked, gesturing towards your shoulder with his chin.

"Good as new" you replied, unconsciously shrugging your shoulder to prove your point. "How's your leg?" you asked, returning the question.

"Fully healed" he mumbled, looking down at his thigh.

The small talk felt forced, the words hanging awkwardly between you. You both knew why you were there, but the silence seemed to scream louder than any accusation. Finally, Luke cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable tension.

"Wanna come in?" Luke finally asked, surprising you.

You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly. "In?" you repeated.

He nodded, his gaze flicking nervously around the clearing. "It's safer than… well, you know, someone seeing us" he muttered, trailing off. The implication was clear – safer than being caught outside after curfew, safer than prying eyes and whispers.

You considered it for a moment. It made sense. This conversation needed privacy, and venturing deeper into the night, risking further trouble, didn't seem wise.

With a silent nod, you gestured for him to lead the way. You walked towards the front door, slipping inside the cabin in your tippy toes, Luke closed the door softly behind you, plunging the room into near darkness. The silence was thick, and loud. The stage was set for a conversation that could change everything.

"Okay, shoot" Luke finally said, his voice gruff.

"What?" you replied, thrown off guard by his brusqueness.

"What do you mean 'what'?" he countered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "You wanted to talk. So do it. Speak."

His words felt almost like a demand, and irritation sparked within you. The confident, charming facade seemed to have crumbled, leaving him exposed – unsure and flustered. While your battle-hardened self might have found humor in his discomfort, just like it did when he basically walked in on you half-naked, right now, it just felt frustrating.

"Don't you have anything to say either?" you challenged. "Am I the only one who wants to talk about what we did?" It was hard to believe that the usually eloquent Luke Castellan, the golden boy, was now speechless.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, his face etched with frustration. "Well..." he began, sinking down onto his bed. He hesitated for a long moment, searching for the right words. "It was definitely... something" he finally came out with, his voice barely a whisper.

Gods, was he really this bad at expressing himself? A groan escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands in exasperation. "This was a fucking mistake, gods" you muttered, your voice muffled. "Forget I even came here, Castellan." You spun on your heel, heading towards the door, the need to escape this awkward conversation overwhelming.

Your hand reached for the doorknob, ready to walk out and face the consequences of curfew later, rather than deal with this frustrating silence. But before you could turn the handle, a warm hand clamped onto your wrist.

Luke spun you around, his eyes pleading despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "Don't go” he groaned, clearly frustrated with himself. "It's just – you can't expect me to speak normally to you when that isn't the relationship we have, you know?"

He was right. Your rivalry, for better or worse, defined your dynamic. What you did, that heated and uncontrollable moment that was one of the best sexual experiences that you ever had, had shattered the status quo, leaving you both scrambling for a new footing.

Your silence dominated you, quite a big difference to the nervous energy that had crackled between you moments ago. Luke's words echoed in the room, leaving you both grappling with the reality of the situation. He walked back to his bed, he knew now, you would stay.

With a defeated sigh, you walked over to his bed and stopped in front of him, hesitant to intrude further on his personal space by sitting next to him. "Luke, do you regret it?" you finally asked.

He ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture that mirrored your own churning anxieties. "I don't know" he mumbled, his gaze dropping to his lap. A beat of silence followed, then he said, almost defensively, "But I can't deny that I... I liked it" he blurted out, almost comically frustrated.

"It's just that I never thought I would do something like that with you” he continued, his voice dropping back to a hushed tone. "Do you regret it?"

You shrugged your shoulders, still grappling with your own tangled emotions. “I mean… When it was happening," you started, searching for the right words, "I enjoyed it. But right now, with all the aftermath, I don't think I feel 'proud' of it exactly."

"You're not answering my question, yn." he said, a touch of annoyance creeping back into his voice.

"I don't know if I regret it, Luke, okay?" you admitted, frustration tinging your voice. "It's just… confusing."

The silence returned, this time heavier than before. The playful banter had faded, replaced by a deeper, more complex silence that spoke volumes about the uncharted territory you both found yourselves in. You decided to push the conversation further.

"Is this going to change things now?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension.

Luke let out a loud, almost bitter laugh. "Why do you care? You hate me anyway" he said, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "This is the perfect excuse to not talk to me ever again."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Hate you? I don't hate you" you declared, taken aback by his accusation. "I wouldn't be here if I hated you."

"Don't like me then?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, not exactly" you mumbled, cheeks flushing a warm heat. "But don't say I hate you. That's not true."

There was a surprised silence from Luke. Maybe he hadn't expected that answer. "Then what is it?" he finally asked, his voice raising up a little, laced with a hint of curiosity.

Frustration bubbled up inside you. "You!" you blurted out, pointing at him. "It's you, it’s you because we never get to have a regular conversation without arguing, because you started this whole picking on me things and it’s been like this ever since we were fourteen, Luke! And I know you and I are pretty good at ignoring each other, but this…" you gestured vaguely between the two of you, "this isn't something we can just sweep under the rug. It's not something we can just pretend never happened.”

"Then what do we do with it?" he continued, his voice trembling slightly in anger "I told you I liked it" Luke repeated, his voice tinged with annoyance. "What else do you want me to say!?"

"It's not what I want you to say!" you yelled back, your voice rising in volume. "It's what I want you to do!"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "And what is exactly that!?"

The words tumbled out before you could think, a desperate plea fueled by confusion and a strange sense of longing.

"Fucking kiss me!"

The words echoed in the cramped silence of the cabin, and a blush flooded your cheeks as soon as they left your lips. You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the tension, the confusion, the simmering emotions within you – it all came spilling out in a torrent of honesty.

Luke stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, you thought you might have crossed a line, shattered the fragile truce that had formed between you.

He rose from the bed with a slow, predatory grace. You were standing so close that when he stood to his full height, you were chest-to-chest with him. His dark eyes locked with yours, and you felt small.

"So that's it?" he continued, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "That's why you're so worked up? You just want me to kiss you?"

His words, though seemingly lighthearted, stung. Was that all it was to you? A fleeting desire, a moment of impulsive rebellion? The anger you'd felt earlier flared anew, threatening to consume you.

"Is that all you think this is about, Castellan?" you spat, your voice shaking slightly. "Just some physical need?"

"That´s not what I meant" he drawled, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I know that if what happened left you with a physical need, you could go to anyone else. But you came to me, didn´t you?”

You wanted to punch him, to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. But a strange sense of honesty held you back. He was right, again. The truth was, a part of you didn’t crave just a taste of his lips, but something else, like an unexpected connection that went further more than physical. You didn’t know where it came from, or when, or why, you just felt it and thinking about it just felt right.

With a shaky breath, you tilted your head up, a silent answer to his question. Your lips brushed against his, breaths twirling together once again. He didn't hesitate or hold back this time. A low groan escaped his lips as he leaned down, his hands finding their way to your waist. His touch sent a jolt of electricity sparking through you, making your knees weak.

And the he kissed you.

It started slow, tender, almost reverent. He explored your lips with a newfound gentleness, as if savoring the feel of them against his. It spoke of exploration, of a tentative truce blossoming into something more. You wanted to feel him, to erase the line that had always separated you.

But then, as if a dam had broken, the kiss deepened. The tenderness melted away, replaced by a desperate urgency. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the soft contours of your cheeks. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your body. The kiss became a whirlwind of emotions – confusion, desire, the thrill of the forbidden.

You noticed the way his breath started to hitch. How whenever he had to fill his lungs with air, he would make sure it was just the necessary amount to kiss you back again. He didn’t want to forget the taste of your lips.

His kisses then started to start a slow, agonizing pace towards your neck. Right under your ear, over your pulse, on dip your collarbone; every hot kiss he placed only made your body unconsciously stick closer to his, head logging back in pleasure as your breaths became hitched too, turned into small gasps and little moans, all caused by the boy that got you on your nerves.

“Y-you haven’t answered my question” you suddenly said.

Luke was too concentrated on attacking your neck to even care looking at your face, but he still answered. “What question?”

“If you’re a virgin”

He could’ve stop right there, he could be mad at you for being so insistent, he could just go and leave you there, hot and bothered with your swollen lips and red neck attacked by his own lips, but he stayed. He stayed while his forehead rested against yours, catching his breath while his broad shoulders went up and down. His own skin was already sprayed with a thin layer of sweat, glistening by the only little peak of a curtain that didn’t fully covered the outside light.

“I’m not” he declared, hands dripping down to your hips. “But I’m not as experienced as you may think”

You nodded slightly. “And, do you-, would you like to experience a little more?” you asked.

See, you had a little problem. You didn’t realize how dangerous words could be, or how it could affect the other person until those words came out of your mouth, and you felt so stupid afterwards. So stupid you wanted to snap your fingers and let the ground swallow you whole and spit you right at the center of the Tartarus.

Luke chuckled. “Are you seriously asking me to fuck you?”. He asked it so casually, so calmly, that if only he had asked you with the tiniest bit of flirt, of teasing, you would’ve handled it easier.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks. “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re still so surprised” you try to laugh it off “Look what we’re doing”

“You’re right” he nods. “Yes. I would like to know what it is like to do what we did. No clothes this time”

He didn’t even let you think of an answer. His lips placed over yours again, but only for a brief moment before he started trailing down your throat. His curls tickled your chin, and his nose bumped constantly against the places he kissed. The tiny touch of the tip of his tongue with every kiss left behind a wet trail of saliva that started to go down, down, and down.

Even though he requested no clothes, your t-shirt didn’t seem to bother him at all. He pressed your lower body closer to his when he kissed your sternum. You didn’t know if it was because he genuinely knew how to make a girl feel good, or because it was simply him, but even over the fabric, his lips felt like fire against your skin, and you felt the goosebumps covering your arms.

Maybe it was both things.

He kept kissing until he sat down on his bed again. Your hands crept up his neck, just to have somewhere to hold, you needed to touch him. His neck, his hair, his back, everything.

His hands pushed up your t-shirt and as soon as he had the tiniest bit of skin visible, he attacked it. Just kisses everywhere. His lips were hot and wet, something that only added you both a immense pleasure. You hissed when his teeth took a slight grip of your hipbone, but the slight burning feeling it left behind made you release a stupid sound from your lips, a soft, small and broken whimper.

“Sorry” he said. He looked angelical like that; lips glistening, brown eyes looking up at yours, chin resting on your tummy. You could stay like this forever. “It’s just, you’re-” his fingers buried themselves at your sides. “You’re unreal”

You smirked. You knew this vulnerable and submissive state Luke was at would only last a second, but knowing that you were the one he would float up his surface for, how it made you feel, it was powerful. But you didn’t wanna be, you wanted him to crave you. You’ve been playing this game for way too long, it was time for Luke Castellan to prove what he could do.

You placed your hands over his, feeling your own small and delicate compared to his veiny and big ones. You pulled his calloused palms up your torso, the fabric of your t-shirt tangling in his fingers. He caught the message real quick, pulling your t-shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor carelessly.

He looked momentarily stunned, with parted lips and all. He felt dumb too. This was his second time seeing you like this —except that when he did for the first time, you weren’t wearing shorts—, but something about it was different now. A hundred explanations rushed his brain a second; the lighting, the shorts, the color of your underwear, your hair. Maybe even the fact that you looked so close, but so unreachable.

You didn’t let him stare for too long, forearms crossing over his shoulders as you, once again, sat over his thighs. You didn’t have to lead him into anything this time, he pulled you by the waist even before you finished sitting on him.

He hissed when you rolled your hips once, hands flying to your sides to stop you. “Don’t do that” he said in a low tone. He knew you were just teasing him, but he really didn’t want to deal with you right now, not in that way.

You stopped, it was hard not to when he applied so much force on you that his biceps flexed and his veins popped out. And that reminded you the lack of your clothes, and the excessive amount of his.

His white t-shirt was long forgotten after if joined your own on the floor. He leaned back, hands resting over the mattress as your hand trailed down his torso; a bumpy ride down his body that was strangely appealing to your eyes. You hadn’t seen Luke shirtless before, and that reminded you, why hadn’t you seen Luke shirtless before?

The man was hot.

He seemed to enjoy the way your eyes roamed down his body way too much, also how you suddenly held your breath. He might’ve kept it a secret, but he saw and noticed everything. His hand reached out to cup your breast. “Pretty” he whispered, knuckles caressing the lacy fabric that covered you. He didn’t have to be a genius to realize how that instantly made your skin shiver, most specifically your back, that arched towards his feather-like touch.

He pushed himself up, lowering his head towards your chest. He took your bra in his teeth, pulling the fabric aside just enough for his tongue to lick over your nipple. You moaned, the sudden feeling taking you by surprise. He didn’t want to behave this softly, so tender, so stupidly careful. He needed more.

He repeated his action with your other breast, a tight and strangled moan escaping from your throat. He groaned lowly at your own sounds, discovering a new way of basically communicating with you; if you liked it, he liked it.

His arms wrapped around you with ease, lifting you up just enough for him to place you ever his bed, his body covering yours as his hands placed along your sides. His pulled your thighs apart with one knee, then pressing it against your core.

“Ah, Luke” you moaned out, eyes shutting at the feeling, too good to let it pass.

“Shit, baby” he cooed. His eyes scanned your body under his, the way it rolled so delicious and delicately as you tried your best to push yourself further into his knee, desperate for some friction. “Can I go down on you?” he blurted out.

You opened your eyes, leaning into your elbows on the bed, eyes piercing his. “You want to?” you ask.

“If I’m fucking you, I’m doing it right”

And your shorts disappeared in a second. He moved your panties aside with a hook of his fingers, and suddenly a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

He was seeing you vulnerably and literally open to him now. You felt too self conscious. You were screwed. Your arousal left a wet patch on the inside of your panties; what a sight for eyes like Luke’s. You felt his thumbs slowly pulling your lips apart. He was taking his oh so sweet time with it, and you didn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

You let out a surprise moan when his tongue laid flat against your cunt. He moaned against it instantly, the vibration sending a different type of pleasure. His big arms wrapped over your thighs, providing you of any movement except for the ones he wanted you to do. He ate you out like a starved man; and yes, it sounds cliche, but you never experienced something like this before.

He was so slow with it, yet so deep. He wouldn’t let any drop coming out of you go to waste, he wanted it all. He sucked on your clit, hard, but quickly let go to continue his task on your hole again, tongue slipping in and out. The only time he took a break, was to slightly lift his head up and spit down at you. It was already wet enough, but the cold saliva, falling directly to your clit, only made you want more.

You grabbed his head with both hands, pushing him down against you, and he didn’t complain a bit, mouth instantly opening again to let his tongue dance around you.

“Yes, yes, yes” you moaned, chest heaving up and down. The sounds that came out of Luke’s mouth against your pussy were disgusting; wet and dirty, and you would’ve never guessed you actually liked it better this way. He actually acted like he needed you, and you noticed, because you saw the tiny bit movements he made with his hips against the sheets. “Gods, Luke, don’t stop”

Maybe this was not the perfect time to praise any of the gods above, but you couldn’t help it, you didn’t even know what words came out of your mouth, none really, just little sounds that escaped from your lips like oil, slipping down unconsciously.

Luke felt too good, better than you had expected. Not experienced as you might think? You could easily believe he lied to your face.

The moment he pulled away one of his fingers slipped in between your folds. His fingertip grazed over your sensitive bud, making your body jolt once. You heard him breath out a laugh.

Then he pulled in, slowly, and a second finger joined easily. You grabbed the sheets by your sides, arching your back and letting a moan of relief out. You felt him lean his cheek on your inner thigh. “If you’re this tight on my fingers, can’t imagine what you will feel like when I fuck you”

He could simply cum in his pants again just by the sight of you; legs spread open around his head, his fingers pushing inside you at a perfect pace, your pussy glistening with his saliva. Your moans sounded pornographic, almost too good to be true. He managed to not do it though, he managed to focus on you and only you, on the way your hips rolled, on what made you squirm the most, what made you whine louder.

His fingers scissored inside you. Your moan was guttural when he eventually started to move faster, his wrist started to quickly feel tired, but how could he give up so easily on you?

Your eyes rolled back. He just treated you so good. He knew just when to curl his fingers, stuff them deeper inside you, or just removing them from inside your pussy to focus on your clit, softly drawing circles over it. He knew how torturous it was, almost as torturous as that night, in the motel, in which you couldn’t stop moving over him; wouldn’t stop. He deeply wanted you to stop, but not because he didn’t like it, but because he wanted more, and right now, you wanted more, and he was well aware of it.

“Fuck me already, Luke”

“What’s that?” he asks, head tilting, a cocky smirk on his face. His fingers were still moving around your clit.

You managed to focus your eyes on him, fire illuminating your eyes. He looked so fucking perfect. Shirtless, a thin layer of sweat over his muscles, his camp necklace softly hanging over his collarbone, his fingers covered in your wetness.

“Fuck me, please” you whined, too desperate for your own liking.

He stopped touching you and crawled over you again, his camp necklace dangling over your face. His hand squeezed your cheeks before he stamped his lips on you once again. He swallowed your moan when you tasted yourself on his lips. “So fucking needy, huh? Fuck, look at you” his eyes roamed down your body like a hunter stalks his prey. “All ready for me”

He praised you as if you were a goddess, which was not far from true but, he was not scared to admit how much he would worship you if he had the chance.

You reached out for his sweatpants, pulling them down below his ass before taking his cock in your hand. He squeezed his lips and groaned, eyes flitting shut at the feeling of your hand stroking him over his boxer. Even over the fabric, you felt how warm it was, how hard he had gotten. “I can tell you’re ready too, big boy” you teased.

He didn’t really know where his sweatpants fell, taking them fully out along with his underwear and throwing it somewhere in the darkness of the room. His dick smacked on his stomach, and you lifted your head to peak just a little.

And yes, as you expected, he was big. Not monstrously big but, fair enough to feel a little bit scared of whether is it gonna hurt or not. His tip was so red, you highly doubted he would last long enough before cumming.

“Shit, wait” he said, looking around, brows suddenly frowning in worry. “I don’t have a condom”

You laughed. “So?” you asked. His worried expression was replaced by a confused one. “I don’t mind”

“You don’t?” he blurted out.

“Just pull out. It’ll be fine” you assured with a warm smile. He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of worry still pang in his insides. “Hey” you called out, sitting straight and placing one hand behind his neck. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. You don’t have to be scared. If you don’t like it, we can stop, okay?” you whispered.

It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he only limited himself to nod, letting the invisible weight of his shoulders fall off. You pulled him towards you, mouth quickly letting his tongue in as you fell onto the mattress again.

One of his hands started to trace delicate figures on your waist, stopping at your ribs to squeeze tightly as he lets the tip of his cock brush against you. He strangled a moan before aligning himself and you lift your hips slightly. His own hips start to move forward, slow. You gasp at the stretching, stealing Luke’s last breath before he let his forehead collapse on the crook of your neck.

You squeezed him fully, tighter every time another inch entered inside you. When you felt the base of his cock against you, he moaned out against your skin once, then his shoulders started to go up and down as he breathed heavily. “How do you feel this good when I haven’t even started yet?” he asked, more to himself that to you.

You tugged on his curls, forcing him to get away from your neck and look into your eyes. “And what’s taking you so long?” you whisper.

He took his bottom lip in between his teeth as he began to pull out just as slow as he had pushed in. He only let the tip of his cock in before moving forward again. You hugged him, his muscles clenching at the touch of your fingertips on his shoulder blades. He started agonizingly slow, but it felt so good. It was so intimate, not only because of the fact that your legs tangled on his lower back and you pulled him in with your heel, but because suddenly, a warm embrace hugged you both. The sudden feeling of hugging him tighter when he started to move faster, and his need to let his fingers mark over your thighs, tightly gripping on the flesh when you moaned into his ear, something about the lines of going faster and how good it felt. He doesn’t remember.

He wanted to keep you like this forever, his legs thrown around his waist, your pussy sucking him in every time he pulled out, your moan and whimpers in his ear, your hands touching him everywhere. Your hands felt so good, so smooth over his rough skin, over his scars. He wanted to kiss them, every single knuckle, massage them, hold them forever. He wanted to keep you forever. Your embrace, your laugh, your voice, your feelings. He wanted you to open yourself to him, to feel safe around his arms, to know that he would always be there, no matter what you need him for.

“You’re greedy, baby. Aren’t you?” he teased in your ear. He whispered so low that your back arched at the sound. “Yeah, like that. Just sucking me right back in, huh?”

You felt speechless. You were. Also, it was hard to speak when he was pounding into you like an animal, grunts and moans filling the room despite the soaked slapping of skin to skin. He tugged at your hair, pulling down and forcing yourself to push your head back further into his pillow. His tongue flattened against the base of your neck, licking all the way up to the back of your ear. Even though you didn’t see him, you felt him smirk. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this for. Wanted to fuck you ever since you wore that fucking dress to the fireworks”

Oh, the dress.

Fourth of July at camp. Well, it got lots of compliments. How pretty it looked on you, how it showed off your curves, how the color fitted you nicely, how you managed to find the perfect shoes to combine them with. And yes, you had noticed that Luke’s stare towards you was intense. He was staring, jaw clenched and his stupid face towards your directions at all times, head following you wherever you went. But you would’ve never guess that a simple white dress, was gonna start it all for him and the painful ache in his cargo pants.

If you knew, you would’ve wore it before. And more frequently.

“Luke” you moaned out when he particularly pushed too deep inside you.

“Say it. Say my name again” he demanded, hand squeezing in between your bodies to touch your clit again, smacking it with two fingers, stealing a high pitched whimper from your lips. He started his expert circles around it again. You tried your best to do as he said, but the pounding of his cock inside you, the skin slapping and the sensitive touch of his fingertips over you was driving you crazy.

You finally managed to call his name, over and over again, like a prayer. He felt too good when you did so, slamming harder against your body when his hand movement became sloppy, stopping momentarily only to start again.

In a swift, blurry motion, he placed both hands on the mattress on the side of your head, pulling himself up and his cock out of you. You covered your face to muffle your screams when he started to rub himself on your clit. The tip of his cock hurt against you, rubbing over you again and again and again. It was fast, not giving you enough time to recover before his red tip caressed over your clit again.

This felt much better than any other feeling you felt with him, maybe even replaced by the feeling of his cock stretching you out. But this, something you never tried before, made your walls clench around nothing and your clit scream in agony, the warm feeling in your belly only growing more and more with each thrust of his hips.

His movements stopped as abruptly as his moans. You only heard him release a held back moan when he let his hips thrust once more, and you felt his warm load fall over your stomach just at the same time that you came. It reached so high up that you immediately felt out of breath, chest heaving up and down as Luke cursed under his breath, and his cum kept dripping down over you.

He would’ve collapsed over your body, but he didn’t wanna get you all dirty. It was a dumb though, considering the fact that you were sweaty, hair messy, lips parted as you cursed too, and a very slight signal of tears in your eyes. You were destroyed, and he was too.

“Wait here” he pointed at you with one finger, carefully climbing down his bed and putting on his boxers, disappearing in the darkness. He later came back with paper towels, taking the first one and folding it, cleaning the parts of your body that were left behind with him on it.

He cleaned himself after, hissing at the sensitivity of his head, before throwing the dirty wipes to a small bin. He hopped on the bed again, arm throwing around your waist as he pulled you closer. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

He kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips, your collarbone, leaving behind his mark on you. He placed two of three kisses on your shoulder as his hand circled your lower back, before playfully biting on it.

“Stop” you pushed him on the chest. “You’ll get me all marked up”

“What if I wanted to?” he asked, head falling down on the pillow. His eyes twinkled when he looked at yours. “Would you let me?”

“Depends. Will we still pretend we don’t like each other?”

He snorted. “Who said I like you now?”

“Ha-ha” you panted, staying silent for a moment. Your finger traced his features, so harsh yet so delicate. His jawline, his nose, his cheeks. His scar. You let your thumb softly touch it, Luke’s eyes closing as you do, sighting at your warm touch. You knew how much he hated it, how much he wanted people to avoid looking at it, how embarrassed he felt about it. You never truly understood why. Yes, he failed his quest but, it gave him such a different type of look. Brave, warrior-looking, fearless, hot. “I like it” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me” his voice changed, a sudden dark, sad tone.

“No, I mean it” you blinked fast, concerned at his mood change. “It makes you… pretty”

He would’ve expected any word, any. Badass, tough, bad boy-looking. But pretty? He wasn’t prepared for it. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks, shiny dark eyes piercing yours.

“And a pain in the ass, sure”

He let out a laugh, you joined him. It was a soft symphony that momentarily filled the room with wholesome energy. “So what now?” he asked. “What are we?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know” your fingers played with the little wooden pendants of his necklace. “We don’t need to know it now, though”

“But I don’t wanna pretend I don’t like you either” he explained. “ ‘Cause this is actually kind of fun”

“Kind of?” you asked, tilting your head. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Okay, it’s the best sex I’ve had so far” he admitted.

“Thaaank you” you replied. He laughed again, less this time, but still managed to crack a smile. He didn’t know he could smile this much with you. “And, you don’t have to worry about pretending. We don’t have to”

“No?”

“No” you shook your head. “Let it be. Let ‘em think what they want. We were sent on a quest, something happened and now, we’re friends”

His signature grin marked on his face. “Friends?” he asks.

You gulp, visibly flustered now. And yes, friends. Friends who lay in bed naked, friends who fuck, friends who kiss, friends who dirty talk to each other, friends who break curfew to find themselves making out in the most remote places at camp, friends who stare, friends who care. So, yes; “Friends” you assure.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x you #pjo smut #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

1K notes · View notes

fadedncity · 1 year

Text

give me the greenlight

wc: 19.0k…y'all i genuinely don't know how

pairing: mark x fem!reader

cw: smut, street racing au, childhood friends to lovers, non idol au, college au, lil angst, fluff, mention of other idols, slight allusions to a toxic ex, alcohol consumption, use of marijuana, mark's lowkey a big flirt, also a tad bit of a slowburn, switch!mark, switch!reader, auralism, thigh riding, dirty talk, pet names, praising, teasing, marking, fingering, semi public sex, car sex, oral sex (giving/receiving), exhibitionism (barely), multiple orgasms, protected sex, aftercare, way more plot than i expected, lmk if i missed anything

[9:16 PM] FRIDAY

"Come on. The cops are gonna bust it before we even get there!" Summer stomped her heels like a whiny child.

"You know these things never start on time, we will be fine," you said, coming down the stairs.

"You could always go ahead of us and we'll meet you there," Nyla said, checking herself in the mirror, "Oh wait, you can't drive," she deadpanned.

"Only temporarily," Summer rolled her eyes.

"Only until your suspension is lifted," you reminded.

"One of you could let me borrow a car. It's only an issue if I get caught." Summer says matter of factly, like either of you would side with her.

"That is the issue, sweetie, you did get caught." Nyla pats Summer's cheek.

Summer crossed her arms, again acting like a moody toddler.

"Let's go," you grabbed your keys off the table, "Thought you didn't wanna be late." You said to Summer, heading out the door.

With an annoyed huff, Summer gathered her things and followed you and Nyla out the door.

The three of you got into your car, the gentle purr of the engine coming to life once you put the key in the ignition, sending vibrations through the entire vehicle. Music filtered through the speakers as you pulled out of your spot and took off down the street.

"Hyuck said to make sure you turn your lights off when you're coming up," Summer relayed a message she received from Haechan once you were halfway there.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you waved off.

You turned off your headlights once you neared the exit, moving offroad. You carefully drove into the woods on unpaved ground, heading deeper into the darkness as the distant streetlights weren't doing anything to assist your sight anymore.

"I always hate this part," Nyla says from the passenger seat.

"Gotta make sure we don't get caught if any cops are hiding around here." You said.

"I know, but it always feels like the beginning of a horror movie. And you know the hot ones always die first," Nyla pouted.

You found the opening in the fence, worn down from being driven over so many times, and pulled into the abandoned army base, finally able to cut your lights back on.

The sound of music playing and tires screeching on the pavement could already be heard from the runway the meet was on, and you were still a few hangars away.

You slow down once you reach the crowd taking over the runway. People move out of the way as you cruise down the road, looking for a spot to park.

"Ain't that Johnny over there," Summer pointed from the backseat.

"I'd recognize that giant beanstalk anywhere," you say before honking your horn, startling the Aquarius and getting his attention.

"Wow, the princess actually graces us with her presence on this lovely night," Johnny curtsies, and you scoff.

"Just move out the way before I run your ass over." you tell him.

You backed your car into the spot next to Johnny, and your friends practically jumped out of the vehicle before you could put it in park. You hadn't even closed your door when Johnny embraced you in a tight hug.

"Jesus, John, gonna crack a rib," you gasp.

"Feels like we don't see you at these things anymore," He let you go.

"Come on, it hasn't been that long. I was here like a few weeks ago."

"For like 20 minutes. You left before you could even see me smoke Jungwoo," he crossed his arms over his chest.

You remember that night. You had totally forgotten the assignment you had due at 11:59 and raced back home to turn it in on time.

"Shit. That's my bad. You know it's just stuff with the garage and school and…stuff," you trail off.

"Yeah, I get it," Johnny slung his arm around you, "You're doing good though, kiddo," you both started following behind Nyla and Summer as they wandered off.

"How do you figure?"

"Made it further than me. I had already dropped out by this point," Johnny said, sharing a laugh.

The music came from every direction with people displaying their boosted sound systems out of their trunks. All cars of different makes and models lined the sides of the track. The ones not focusing on the races were too busy gawking at the expensive modifications under the hoods of those showing them off.

"Last chance. Winner take all," you instantly recognize Chenle's voice over the rest of the clamor.

You watch Summer reach into her bag, giving Chenle an indescribable amount, looking proud of herself.

"Who're you betting on?" Johnny asks her.

"Yeri, duh," she answered.

"You sure that was a good choice?" he teases.

"Obviously. Hyuck ain't got shit on her."

"Yeah, alright," Johnny rolled his eyes, taking a bit of offense himself.

"Where is Haechan, by the way? He's up next," Jeno says.

"Over there talking to Jaemin," Chenle nodded to the opposite side of the runway where Jaemin's car was parked.

You spotted the back of Haechan's head, speaking to Jaemin through the window of his car, probably checking the police scanner and making sure you're all still in the clear, no doubt. Then your eyes land on the guy standing next to him, recognizing his silhouette.

"Oh my god, is that-" Summer starts.

"Mark Lee?" you will your vision to focus from this distance to see clearer. "Mark's back in town and no one said anything?" you hit Johnny's arm.

"You would know if you were here." Chenle shrugged.

"I'm sorry, who is Mark?" Nyla asks.

Everyone turned and looked at Nyla.

"Mark Lee? How do you not know Mark?" Summer says, showing Nyla his Instagram.

"How did you pull that up so fast?" Renjun asks.

"Holy shit, he's good," Nyla says, impressed, and you already know Summer pulled up one of the videos of him racing.

"Better be. I taught him." Johnny smiles like a proud father. "We all go way back," he says, "Ain't that right?" Johnny nudges your arm.

Way back.

Way back when you used to spend hours at the garage with your father after school and only knew Johnny as your father's best and favorite (unconfirmed) employee. And Mark was some boy from your high school that you didn't even know until you went to your first dig.

Way back doesn't even feel that far away anymore now seeing him. It almost feels exactly like the night you met after you snuck out to the first car meet.

"If your father knew you were here, he would lose his shit. If he found out I let you drive, he would have my head. You are not getting into any car—getting behind any wheel tonight under any circumstances. Do you understand?" Johnny said.

"But-"

"Aht, I mean it," he said, shooting you down before changing the subject, "You know Mark, right?" Johnny asked.

"No, I don't know Mark."

"Well, this is Mark," Johnny said, yanking the boy out of a conversation to introduce the both of you. "You mind keeping each other company, and make sure she stays out of..everything," Johnny not so quietly muttered to Mark. "I'm up next, so be good while I'm gone," Johnny patted your head before he hopped in his car, leaving the two of you alone.

"I can't image he's much less of a jackass at work." Mark joked.

"He definitely isn't. I don't think it's something he can turn off," you laughed before you looked over at him, "How'd you know I'm from the garage?" you asked.

"Johnny said you might be here tonight. He talks about you all the time, like a little sister he's never had," Mark tells you.

"Oh really? What else has he said?"

"You're one hell of a driver."

"Come on, it's starting," Summer pulling on your arm, tore you out of your thoughts, and you realize Mark's no longer in your sight, having lost him in the crowd.

People gather on either side of the runway, cheering as Haechan's electric blue supra pulled up next to Yeri's lavender-wrapped GT-R at the spray-painted line that served as the starting and finish line.

Chenle stood in front of them, looking at both drivers. He raised his arms, both drivers reviving up their cars. Haechan burns out his tires, kicking up smoke behind his car before Chenle drops his arms, and both speed off past him down the road.

Through all the commotion, you spotted Mark again, and before you could even think about it, you were already weaving your way through the crowd to get to him.

"So you thought you could just come back to town and not say anything to anybody?" you say, getting his attention.

Mark's eyes light up, no longer concerned with the race upon seeing you.

"I just got in yesterday, but heard you were gonna be here tonight. So I thought I'd surprise you."

"Consider me surprised."

You take the time to notice everything about him, the things that have changed and the things that haven't. Like his hair, no longer dark with the typical schoolboy cut. It's now grown out and blonde—that was as much as you could tell from the beanie it was all tucked underneath. But nothing about his face is much different than how you remember it. Still the same soft eyes you can get yourself lost in and the sweet smile that used to bring one to your face.

"So who's your money on?" Mark asks you.

"You know I'm not throwing anything unless I really got something to lose," you say, "But if I did put my money on one of them it would definitely be Yeri. She's winning this."

"Yeah, she's a good driver but don't you know what Haechan has under his hood?"

"Yeah, but it's no match for what's under Yeri's. And I would know. I put it all together myself," you smiled proudly.

You heard the cars approaching, closing in on the finishing line. From this distance, it's hard to tell who's winning, but you aren't as eager as the rest of the crowd cheering on either side to see who would make it to the end first.

The cars blurred past you, wind whipping behind them, blowing your hair out of place a bit as you turned to Mark.

"Now would you look at that," you smiled as Yeri was announced as the winner, "I know it's been a while Mark, but the last thing you should forget is that I'm always right."

"Trust, there isn't anything about you I could forget," Mark says before excusing himself to provide Haechan with moral support.

You don't know why fluttering kicks up in your stomach at his words, and you can't fight the smirk that stretches across your face as you watch him walk away. But you try to ignore it and go to congratulate Yeri on her win.

[10:32 PM]

"Okay but like I almost had her," Haechan continues to explain.

You hadn't been listening to Haechan, finding yourself too entranced with looking at Mark talking to Jungwoo and Somi a few feet away from you; you didn't even notice Nyla approaching.

"So like were you two a thing?" Nyla asks, startling you.

"What? Me and Mark?" you furrow your brows, "No, no, we were just friends."

"You were close?" she asks.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." you tell her.

"This one yours?" Mark asks, getting your attention.

"I'm standing next to it, aren't I?" you reply, running your hand over the top of your car.

"And as good as you look doing it, I just wonder if you're still as good at driving it as I remember."

"You think I lost my touch while you were away?" you push yourself away from your car, shortening the distance between the both of you.

Mark shrugs, "You tell me," he smirks.

"You know I'm more show than tell," the corners of your lips turn up.

"Is anybody else seeing this?" Nyla looks around, asking.

"Like old times?" you smile.

"Just like old times," he replies.

"For how much?" you ask.

"Let's just settle with $200 for now, nothing too serious."

"Afraid I'd clean you straight out?" you teased, "Fine by me."

Everyone's now tuned into the exchange between the two of you, a mix of reactions to what was going on with you and Mark.

"Oh shit, this is gonna be good," Haechan slid off the hood of his car, engaging in the action.

"Are they really doing this right now?" Renjun asks.

"You best believe they are. Time to make a profit—Place your bets now!" Yangyang began yelling into the crowd as you and Mark started your cars.

"You two ready?" Ten asks, standing in front of your vehicles at the starting line.

"Unless Mark's having second thoughts," you look over at Mark in his car.

Mark smirked, "Are you?"

"Hell no," you revved up your engine.

With Ten's signal, your foot hovers over the gas pedal. Bringing his hands down, you and Mark take off down the runway.

You're instantly transported back to the summer nights you and Mark spent driving around abandoned warehouses and garages.

You remember staying out for hours—most times til the sun came up, trying to perfect drifting. The amounts of tires you blew out and dents you inflicted on the car you had then led the two of you to spend your days in your father's garage, repairing the damage.

You prepare yourself for the turn coming up on the track that had been carved out. It's almost as if you and Mark move in perfect sync as you shift your gears. Your tires glide on the concrete, smoothly drifting your car around the corner, a bit of smoke trailing behind you from the burning rubber.

With as fast as you were both going, you should've expected the race to end as soon as it started. And when you both drove over the finish line, it was almost hard to tell who won. But you had Mark by a fender.

"I see you have forgot I always win too," You say to Mark as Ten hands you the money, "But that's the first real race I've had in a while, so thank you for that."

"If you're really that appreciative then how about we go again," Mark offers.

"I don't wanna take anymore of your money, Mark," you say teasingly.

He rolls his eyes before leaning out of his car, "If you really don't, how about if I win, you let me take you out."

It was the last thing you expected to hear come out of Mark's mouth. You would almost describe his demeanor as cocky, but you've seen cocky, and the confidence has never looked so good on someone.

Who is this man, and what has he done with the Mark Lee you knew?

But you weren't going to back down just because your heartbeat picks up, and you know it's not just from the adrenaline.

"How about when I win?" you ask.

He pauses, thinking for a second before saying, "You get my car."

Your eyes light up at the proposition, "Have fun walking home tonight, Markie," you laugh.

"Bitch, if you don't let him win," Summer says, coming up to your window.

"There's no way in hell I'm doing that. Do you see that car?" you say.

"Do you see that man? He wants to take me out, who am I to put a question mark where the universe placed a period?" Nyla says, looking at Mark while he talks to Haechan.

"Look, if there are no hard feelings after I give that car a few adjustments, maybe a new paint job, and Mark still wants to take me out, he can," you shrugged.

"Trust me, he'll want to. He's been eyeing you all night." Summer hits your arm.

"Shut up, he has not," you swat her away.

"Excuse me, ladies, but if you don't mind, my man Mark has a date to win," Haechan says, making it clear who he was rooting for.

"Yeah, keep on wishing, Hyuck," Summer yelled back, "You better fucking win now." she tells you.

It was Jeno this time who stood between both cars raising his arms, giving you and Mark the signal to get set. With a nod, Jeno drops his arms, and your car accelerates, taking off, Mark right there beside you. Your entire focus was on the road ahead of you, not even Mark, who would steal glances at you from time to time.

You start getting some distance between your cars, already thinking about the new rims you'd order. But all that flies out the window when you spot a cat in the road ahead of you.

You had two choices; stop or swerve into the muddy ditch to your left, as any third option would leave someone getting hurt, so you didn't even consider it. Slamming on the breaks, you come to a quick stop as the cat stands in front of your car.

"Motherfucker," you muttered under your breath.

As Mark passed you, you swore you could've heard his laugh in the wind.

You swerved around the cat, applying heavy weight to the gas, getting back into your lane, and catching back up with Mark once you approached the turn. By the time you reached the top end, you were only about an inch away from pulling ahead of Mark's car.

You heard the distorted whirls of screams filter in through your windows as you both drove over the line, everyone cheering for the winner.

"Fuck," you whined.

You really wanted that Evo.

"Did you actually let him win?" Summer asks, stunned.

"Fuck no. There was a cat on the runway, I didn't wanna hit it," you say, slamming your door shut.

"Are you serious?" Renjun asks with a laugh.

"How the fuck else would there be a way to explain how I lost?" you say.

"You wanted to let him wi-" Johnny's cut off by Mark's hand over his mouth.

"It's true, I saw it run across," Mark attests, "But still if rules are rules and winning is winning..." he shrugs with a smile.

"You got lucky, Mark. Don't let it go to your head too much," you cross your arms over your chest.

"May be a little too late for that," Mark says, eyeing you up and down.

"Jesus, were they always like this?" Nyla asks, handing Johnny the money she placed on you.

"I have no idea where the fuck any of this came from. What am I even watching right now?" Johnny says, taking the cash.

"Hey! Did you bet against me?" you ask Johnny.

"Sorry, kid. It's just business," Johnny yells back, counting the money.

"Fucking traitor," you grumble.

Then you hear the static coming from the coms (walkie-talkies, but the boys say it's immature and insist on saying coms instead), Jisung relaying something to Chenle.

"Oh shit," Chenle said, "Cops! Cops are coming!" he yelled.

Everything stopped, and everyone scattered like roaches when the lights came on.

People were running in all different directions, jumping into anything on wheels to get away. You got into your car, searching the crowd for Nyla and Summer because you weren't gonna leave without them if they arrived with you. But you caught them getting into Jaehyun's car, so you drove away.

You heard the sirens getting closer, watching the red and blue lights flash in your rearview as you made your getaway from the old army base. Only you and a few others had the same idea of using the same way you came in to get out since the cops were coming from the main entrance, trying to round everyone up. Or at least the ones that weren't fast enough.

You cut off your headlights, driving through the woods to get to the highway, when you heard your phone vibrating in your cup holder before answering it.

"You guys okay?" you ask Nyla.

"Yeah, pretty sure everyone made it out. Where are you?" Nyla asks.

"On my way to the garage to drop the car. Then I'm going over to Johnny's."

"Alright, we'll see you there."

"Alright." you hung up.

[12:26 AM] SATURDAY

As you walked up to Johnny's street, you could already see the partying had continued as if it was never interrupted.

Cars were double parked, taking up the entire street in front of the house. People were scattered all over the lawn, still carrying on as if you all didn't just have to run for your lives to end up here. You could already hear the music from inside Johnny's house as you walked up the front steps.

"You know, the whole point of coming over here is to lay low and not attract the attention of the cops right back to us again." you say to Johnny, finding him first on the front porch.

"It'll be fine, none of the neighbors are gonna complain," Johnny says without an ounce of worry on his face as he rolls a joint.

Before you walk into the house, you stop and ask Johnny again, "You really bet against me?"

"Look, it's not that I think he's the better racer," Johnny pauses to wet the ends of the papers with his tongue, "But you weren't gonna pass up a chance to let him take you out," he teases.

Johnny begins laughing as you hit his arm, "I told you it was the fucking cat."

You leave Johnny, still laughing, on the porch, entering the house. Making your way through the crowded hallway, you reach the kitchen, finding Nyla, Summer, and Jaehyun along with Goeun.

"Finally, what took you so long? Almost hit another cat on your way over?" Summer asks, sipping on her drink.

"Haha, very fucking funny," you spit, flipping her off.

"Here, calm down, and take this," Johnny hands you the lit joint.

"Where do you even think the cat came from? Was it alone? What if it was a mother and she had a litter? Oh my god no, we have to go back and find it," Goeun asks, making it very clear she's already a few shots in.

Now if someone brings that cat up one more time…

"Can we please just stop talking about the cat," you sigh, taking one last drag.

Passing off the joint to Jaehyun, your mind was already growing hazy, your body feeling less weighed down, and you wandered out of the kitchen. You spot Jaemin and Jeno in the backyard smoking with Somi, Mingi, and Doyeon. Somi lifts the joint toward you, offering before you tell her you're good for now. You were then drawn to the living room when you heard Haechan's voice going back and forth with another's.

"Dude, stop running me over!" Haechan complained.

"Stop getting in my way!" Sunwoo yelled back.

The two boys had planted themselves in front of the TV, quickly moving their fingers over the controls in their hands as they played GTA. Aside from the ones entertained by Hyuck and Sunwoo playing, the living room was packed with others dancing, drinking, and smoking, so you didn't even attempt to make your way through.

You spun on your heels and continued to meander around the house. But you were stopped in your tracks when you were approached by Mark.

"Peace offering?" Mark hands you a drink.

"You know I'm not actually mad about losing, Mark," you take the cup from him, sipping the contents as he leans against the walls next to you.

"Does that mean, if I would've just asked you instead; a date or my car, you would've chosen-"

"Your car, definitely," you say, "Mark, you're cute and all but your car...That's like a wet dream on wheels," you tell him, and he bursts into laughter.

"You think I'm cute?" he asks, raising a brow at you.

It registers that that is what you said to him, even without realizing it. But it's not like it's a lie, so you don't deny it.

"I do." Always have. "And fortunately, you still have your car. So where do you plan on taking me in it?"

"I'm not telling you that."

You scoff, "Why not?"

"It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises." you whine.

"You didn't seem to hate me surprising you tonight."

"That's different."

"You'll like this one," Mark tells you.

"What if you're wrong and I hate it?"

"You won't." Mark wasn't going to crack, depriving you of the information.

"Fine. But when I imagine you've planned out the most extravagant date of the century, and it doesn't meet my expectations and turns out the be the worst date of my life, I will never let you live it down, Mark Lee," you say.

He laughed at your dramatics, "I'll take that chance."

"Can I at least know when to expect this to happen?" you ask.

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"I can be."

"Perfect. I'll pick you up at 6."

"Who gets dinner at 6. We aren't seniors, Mark."

"Who said I was just taking you dinner?" he tilts his head.

"You've only been here about 36 hours and I've only known you're back for three of them, how could you have possibly planned something already?"

"Just gotta trust me," he says, lifting his cup to lips, "And wear something nice. Not too nice. But nice."

"Wow, Mark, that is so helpful."

"I do what I can," he smiles at you rolling your eyes.

Mark only breaks eye contact when he feels the intruding gaze of another.

"Okay, I don't know if it's just me, but why does Leo look like he wants to hit me with his car."

Ignoring any subtleties, you turn to find exactly what Mark was talking about. Across the room, you see Leo leaning against a wall, drinking his beer, and glaring at you and Mark.

You scoff and wave it off, "It's nothing. He's just trying that big bad intimidating ex-boyfriend shit. Thinks it's actually gonna work and bring me right back into his arms," you sip your drink.

"No way you dated him," Mark stares at you, jaw dropped, "Jesus, I leave and you suddenly lose your taste in men."

"Shut up," you shove him with a laugh.

A soft smile comes to your face as you find yourself getting lost in Mark's eyes. That was until you were interrupted by someone calling your name to get your attention.

Mark could feel his posture correcting itself as Yeonjun approached the corner you both occupied, you with open arms.

Yeonjun was another ex of yours. But you only dated for a couple months in high school before ending things on good terms, agreeing to just stay friends.

"Should've known if there was gonna be one person to actually get you out there on the track, it would be Mark," Yeonjun says, "What's up, man," he greets Mark.

"Hey, man," Mark nods.

It's not like Mark had anything against the man. They were pretty well acquainted through you and the other mutual friends he shared with Yeonjun. But it was the little prick of a feeling some may describe as a bit of jealousy Mark gets when he sees Yeonjun with you sometimes. Especially now, considering how close you and Yeonjun were before, Mark can only imagine what it's like now, and he's suddenly regretting all the time he's missed.

"Yeah, since he's not a little bitch and can actually give me a race worth my while," you tease Yeonjun, putting a smile on Mark's face.

"Oh, I know you're not grouping me in with the rest of them," Yeonjun pointed over his shoulder, "fell for the trap last time, and it cost me a Camaro."

"Don't worry. You know she's been in good hands," you say.

"Yeah. And you wasted no time with a new paint job, I see," Yeonjun crossed his arms over his chest.

"It was very much needed. I don't know what it is with you guys and that horrendous orange," you scrunch your face.

"So pink was the obvious answer?" Yeonjun asks.

"It's fuchsia, actually. And yes, it was," you nod, making both of them laugh.

Your exchange with Yeonjun is cut short when he hears Wooyoung calling him from the other room.

"I'll catch you guys later. Good seeing you, Mark," Yeonjun nods at Mark as he leaves, Mark doing the same.

"So, let me get this straight; you raced me in a car you already won from Yeonjun, trying to win mine," Mark crosses his arms.

"First, you offered up your car. Second, I've never had a Mitsubishi," You say.

"Good thing I won then," he laughs, and you shoot him a death glare. "Thought there were no hard feelings," he responds to your expression.

"Don't start poking the bear, Lee."

[3:37 AM]

You and Mark barely separated from one another all night, the two of you now sitting in the backyard, still smoking the joint Jaemin left for you two to finish.

"You okay over there?" Mark's voice breaks the peaceful silence and brings you back to reality. You look over at Mark, and your face splits into a smile before you burst into laughter.

"What?" Mark starts laughing along with you.

"Nothing. Sorry I'm just.." you couldn't find the words to even describe what's going on in your head right now, "incredibly high," you sigh.

Mark continues laughing with you, soothing the embarrassment you feel prick up your spine.

"I missed this. And I missed you," Mark says.

"Me too," you smile, "All I could think about the whole night was how much it felt like the first time we met."

"Oh, you mean the same night Johnny almost got bagged?" Mark starts laughing uncontrollably as the memory comes back.

"Yes," you begin laughing as well.

"Do you remember the panic on his face when he was running," he manages to say between gasps for air.

"I've never seen Johnny so scared," you say, your lungs begging for oxygen as you continue to laugh.

"I heard my name, you two talking about me?" Johnny steps out onto the deck.

"Yeah, and that first meet I went to when I saved your ass from the cops," you say.

Johnny scoffed, "What are you talking about?"

"Dude, how could you not remember?" Mark asks, "It was right after you raced Changkyun and you were busy talking to Yves and Jun when the cops showed up." he says.

"But good thing you left the keys in the car and since Mark was too busy freaking out, someone had to do something," you add.

"Alright, I was not freaking out," Mark says.

"It was a mild freak out," you say to him.

"Huh," Johnny nods, looking as if he's going through the archives of his memory, "I very vaguely remember that happening," Johnny says as he lights another joint.

"Maybe if you didn't smoke so much you'd remember," you mutter, sipping your water.

"I know you're not talking," Johnny pointed at you with the spliff between his lips.

"Sungchan's passed out on the front lawn," Haechan comes outside to tell Johnny.

"Okay, find Jeno or Jae and move him upstairs," Johnny says.

"Jeno already left and no one's seen Jaehyun in a while," Haechan says.

"Shit," Johnny sighs, taking a drag, "Mark, come on," he hits Mark's shoulder.

"Now how'd I get dragged into this?" Mark asks.

"Man, just come help us get him upstairs," Johnny tells Mark. With an annoyed grumble, Mark gets up, and you laugh as Mark follows the other two back into the house.

You only went back inside to refill your cup with more water when you bumped into Yeonjun again.

"Hey, you're still here." Yeonjun says.

"Yeah," you answer with a lazy smile.

He laughs at your hazy state, "You good?"

"I'm great," you reply.

Yeonjun smiles, "Well we're about to head out. Do you need a ride home?"

You only had two choices; either walk home or crash here at Johnny's. But now Yeonjun's presenting you with this third choice, and it definitely is tempting.

But Mark.

"I'm good," you nod.

"Okay, I'll see you later."

"I'll see you," you wave as Yeonjun runs off to catch up with the rest of his friends, getting into Hwiyoung's car.

This is when you finally notice how much things have calmed down. The cars lining the streets were no longer taking up the whole block. Now, the house was cleared out of mostly everyone, save for the ones who were crashing there for the night.

"Are you heading out?" Mark asks, coming down the stairs.

"I mean, I probably should. I'm exhausted and I've got to rest up for this big date we have tomorrow," you say.

"You're not driving, right?"

"Of course not. I'm not too far."

"I'll take you."

"Mark, you are not driving either," you say, knowing he's also been drinking and smoking.

"I know. I'm walking you," Mark says, "Let me go grab my phone," he brushes past you and back out to the backyard.

"Hey," you heard from someone else coming down the stairs.

You furrow your brows at your roommate, "You're actually still here? Where have you been all night?" You ask Nyla.

"You know…around," she answered.

It was then you noticed Nyla wearing a shirt she didn't leave the house in, but you don't say anything about it at the moment.

"You ready to go?" Mark asks you.

"Wait, you're leaving?" Nyla asks.

"Yup," you answer.

"Do you want me to go with you?" she asks.

"Do you want to go with me?" you ask her.

Before she can answer, Jaehyun comes down the stairs buttoning up a shirt he wasn't wearing before, smirking at your best friend as he walks past to the kitchen.

Nyla looked internally conflicted, so you made the decision for her. "You can stay. Mark's gonna walk me home."

"Mark, you're an angel," Nyla grabs his face. "I love you. Text me when you're home," she says to you, kissing your cheek.

"You better be using protection. I'm too young to be an auntie," you say sternly to her.

"You'd be one hot auntie, though," she winks over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.

"You sure would be," Mark mumbles as he leans against the doorframe.

"Mark, don't start with me," you glare at him as you walk out of the house.

"What do you mean?" he asks, following you.

"The Mark Lee I knew couldn't flirt to save his life. But now, you keep saying things like that and with you looking like this," you sighed, "It makes things confusing."

"How?" he asks.

"Cause you're Mark."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

You don't know how you're supposed to answer him. "I'm not telling you."

"Well, do you want me to stop?"

You took a second to answer, "No."

For a few minutes, you only walked in comfortable silence before you broke it. "So how long are you staying?" you ask.

"Don't know yet. My brother's wedding is next month so I came back to help with preparations and stuff. But I don't know, might stick around for a while after."

You gasp, "Oh my god, your brother's getting married?? No fucking way, congrats to him."

"Thanks, I'll pass it along," he smiled.

"I bet your mom's excited."

"Yeah, and fortunately for me, it's got her too preoccupied to be any way worried about my dating life," he says. "She still asks me about you, you know. Says she misses you."

"Aw, I miss her too," you pout.

Okay, so maybe you downplayed how close you really were.

From the moment you met, it didn't take much for you to become friends. Once you had realized you went to the same school and were even in some of the same classes, you grew close. Mark introduced you to all his friends, who then became your friends and vice versa. Any time he got word of a meet happening, you were always the first person he texted, saying he was already on his way to come get you. Mark would walk with you after school to your father's garage and let you teach him a few things about fixing up and modifying cars. Your families were both fond of the relationship the two of you had; Mark's inviting you to dinner almost every week, and yours never minding having Mark over for breakfast Saturday mornings.

As you turned down your street, you were then reminded of Mark's last night here. After his going away party, he walked you home just like this for the last time before he left.

"I've missed you too, Mark. Really," you tell him once you reach your house.

You hug him, and he wraps his arms around you. Hugging him now is much different than the last time you had. You had cried into his shirt, squeezing him so tight you didn't want to let him go. And a part of you wished you didn't. But at least letting go this time doesn't hurt as much as it did the last.

"Goodnight, Mark."

"Goodnight," he says.

"I'll be seeing you," you say, making your way up to the door.

"You'll be seeing me," he reassures, waiting for you to enter your house before walking back to Johnny's.

[5:43 PM] SATURDAY

"Can I get a time check?" you ask.

"Almost quarter to 6," Summer answers.

You started cursing under your breath, rushing to apply your mascara.

"Wow, I've never seen you like this?" Nyla says.

"Like what?" you ask, never taking your eyes away from the mirror.

"Nervous to go on a date with a boy," she says teasingly.

"First, I'm not nervous," you point the mascara wand at her, "Second, he's not just some boy," you turn back to your reflection.

You heard your phone vibrate with a notification and looked at the text from Mark.

[5:49 PM] mark: omw to come get you

Fuck. And you weren't even dressed yet.

"Shit—okay, maybe I am a little nervous," you left your vanity and threw off your robe to slip into your dress.

"You really like him, don't you?" Nyla asks.

"You don't know the half of it," Summer interjects.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you ask, struggling to zip your dress.

"Bitch, are you for real right now?" Summer deadpans, helping you with the dress, "You were so unbelievably head over heels for him in high school."

"I was not," you defended.

"You and Mark seem to be the only ones who didn't know that," she zips you up.

You couldn't think of anything to say to that, but thankfully you didn't have to anymore once your phone started ringing.

"Hello?"

"I'm outside," Mark's voice filters through the speaker.

"Fuck," you mutter, "Okay, sorry, I'm almost ready," you tell him.

"No worries, I'll still be here."

You hung up and ran around your room, looking through your closet and frantically throwing things out of the way to find your shoes.

"I literally just saw them. Where the fuck are they?" you say to yourself.

"You mean these?" Nyla pulls the heels from under your bed.

"Thank you," you grab the shoes and slip them on.

"Damn, you look real good," Summer compliments as you finish putting on your jewelry.

"Do I really?" you ask, making sure your hair is sitting just how you want it.

"Hell yeah," Nyla agreed.

"Okay," you take a deep breath, smoothing out the silk draped over your body before leaving your room.

"Have fun!" Nyla yelled after you.

You step out of your house to find Mark leaning against a black Porsche you recognize as one of Jaehyun's instead of his signature red Mitsubishi Evolution. You would be disappointed if he didn't look so good standing next to the car.

Mark pushed himself away from the car when he saw you coming down the steps, completely in awe. Meanwhile, you were just focused on not tripping and stumbling down onto your face.

"Hi," you walk up to him.

"Hi," he seemed speechless, "You look…shit. I mean, not like that—You just look beautiful."

"Thank you, Mark," you grin, "You're looking pretty fine yourself."

"You know, I try," he smooths out his jacket, "Shall we?" he opens the passenger door for you.

You smile as you step toward the car, Mark taking your hand, helping you in before closing the door and rushing over to the driver's side.

Once you've clicked yourself in with the seatbelt, you look up to see Mark staring at you. "What?"

"Nothing," he clears his throat, pulling off.

You tried not to get too lost in looking at Mark, staring out the window instead, trying to figure out where he was taking you. But then you feel his hand brush against yours when he reaches for the gear lever. You couldn't help it, letting your eyes wander over to him. Curtains of blonde hair hung slightly over his eyes as they were focused on the road. Your eyes drift down to the material perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, taking note of the color he chose to wear, a deep shade of blue, one of your favorite colors.

"We're here," Marks says, and you snap out of it, looking around to see where he's brought you. Mark exits the car first and comes to open your door for you.

"Mark, you didn't."

"I did," Mark smiled, "Put this on," he handed you a lanyard reading VIP.

"Where the fuck did you get these?" you ask.

He ignores your question and holds his hand out for you instead, "Come on."

You slide your hand into his and follow him toward the entrance.

As Mark leads you to your seats, you realize you're not in the packed sections with the rest of the screaming fans. But instead where most executives, family members of racers, and people with enough money to buy their way into this section were. Your eyes were as wide as continental tires as you sat down.

"Mark…" now it was your turn to be speechless.

"Does this meet your expectations?" he asks as you look around in awe.

"No," you say, "Definitely surpassed them."

The crowd erupted into cheers as the drivers walked out to their cars.

"Oh my god," you gasp, "It's him."

Kim Jongin, or as he's famously known, Kai, walks out. He brightly smiles at the fans screaming his name and waves into the audience. You're too starstruck to move. And even think your heart has stopped beating when Kai looks in your direction.

"Mark! You made it," Kai walks over to you and Mark.

"Told you I would, man," Mark greets Kai, "I also said I would introduce you to one of the best street racers I know."

Kai looks at you, his smile never faltering as he extends his hand to shake yours.

"Holy shit," is all you can say as you shake his hand, "I'm like a huge fan," you tell Kai.

"So I've been told. I've also heard you put up some serious game out on the track," Kai says before one of his crew members calls him to his car. "I gotta run, but how about you guys stick around after the race and come down to the pit."

You're certain your jaw's already on the floor, in complete disbelief that this is happening right now.

"Yeah, for sure," Mark says.

Kai waves at you one last time before running off to the track, putting on his helmet, and jumping into his car. Once you were out of your trance, you hit Mark's arm.

"Ow!" Mark rubbed his bicep.

"Since when the fuck do you know Kai?" you ask.

"Since Kevin was just getting into the NIRA circuit. I went to one of the digs with him and that was where I met Kai."

You've been following Kai's career practically since it started back when you were a high school freshman. You probably even watched the exact meet Mark was talking about.

"And you've just been sitting on this piece of information, waiting for what to tell me?"

"For this." Mark answers.

"I can't believe you," you mutter, turning away from him.

[8:32 PM]

As Kai tended to the post-race press, you and Mark waited for the first-place winner in the pit. You were busy drooling over what was under the hood of Kai's car while Mark conversed with Shohei, a pit crew member.

"So what do you think?" Kai reappears, asking you.

"I think if I was out there on the track, I'd have a reason to be scared," you say, "An FR9 engine, a nos wet fogger system, and forged pistons," you only list off the components you can see from just taking one look, impressing the racer.

"You really do know your shit," Kai smiles, "I like her," he says to Mark.

"Yeah, me too," Mark smiled at you.

"Wanna take her for a lap?" Kai asks you.

"Me?" you point to yourself, "In this?" then to the car.

"Why not?" Kai shrugs, handing you a helmet.

"She isn't exactly dressed for-" another crew member, Eunseok, started.

But you kick off your heels and grab the helmet, making sure your dress doesn't hike up your legs too high as you slide through the window to get into the race car.

"Man, she's got this," Mark reassures Eunseok as Kai gets in the car with you.

"You good in there?" you hear Mark's voice from inside the helmet.

"You know I'm more than good," you reply.

"And don't I know that for damn sure," you hear the smirk in his voice, "But I've talked you up to pretty much everyone here, so don't embarrass me," he says light-heartedly.

Your barefoot steps on the gas and a smile splits your face as you burn out the tires before accelerating. The wind whipped against your skin as you picked up speed. You felt like you were flying as Kai hysterically egged you on from the passenger seat.

Mark could hear your laughter through the com piece in your helmet, telling you're having the time of your life with the way you round the track. The car roared around the corners, and you felt the G-forces pushing you back into the seat. At the end of the lap, you pulled the car back into the pit, taking the helmet off to catch your breath.

"Now that's what I call driving!" Kai exclaimed as he got out of the car from the passenger side window.

You pulled yourself out of the seat and exited through the window. Mark was right there to help you even though he knew you didn't really need his assistance. You feel Mark's arm around your waist, the other the under your thighs, helping you out of the vehicle and letting you hold onto him to put your shoes back on.

"Between that and everything else I've been told, you better hold onto her, Mark."

"I don't think there's any other choice. She's stuck with me," Mark grabs your hand, "We should probably start leaving now before we're late." Mark says to you, looking at his watch.

"It was good seeing you again, and it truly was an honor to meet you," Kai bowed as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles.

"The honor was all mine. And you know, if you ever need a tune-up, or tires changed or even a buff, my garage always has its door opened for you," you smile.

"I'll keep that in mind," Kai nods with a smile.

"What are we even getting paid for, then?" Seunghan raised his arms.

Once back in the car, Mark weaved through the traffic of spectators leaving the stadium to get on the highway. You didn't notice Mark still holding your hand, only driving with one hand so his fingers could stay intertwined with yours until you reached the restaurant.

[9:41 PM]

"It was just so crazy. To feel that much power in the grips of my hands." you continued. You couldn't help but talk through the entirety of dinner, recounting the events of the night; Mark not minding one bit.

Mark slides his hand closer to yours across the table, taking your hand in his.

You trail off, suddenly losing focus while looking at Mark. Even in the dim candlelight of the restaurant, you can see how Mark's eyes hold the stars as he looks at you.

"You don't have to stop," Mark says, "I like listening to you," he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

"And I just like looking at you," you say, "Still think I'm going to wake up from this dream at any moment."

"You dream about me often?" Mark asks teasingly, leaning on the table.

"Oh, Markie," you lean closer too, "You really don't know the half of it, huh?"

"Why don't you tell me then?" Mark says, his eyes falling down to your lips.

"I'd rather show you," you say before kissing him.

You were never one to really be for public displays of affection, but with Mark, here and now, it just felt right.

"I've wanted to do that ever since sophomore year," you tell him once you pull away.

"Deadass?" Mark asks, raising his brows.

You laugh at his stunned expression, "Deadass, Mark."

"So Renjun was right," he mumbles to himself.

"About what?"

"You having a crush on me in high school."

"Seems like you were the only one who didn't know," you shrug.

"Well, don't act like you didn't know I had one on you too," Mark says, and your brows raise, "Wait, really? You didn't know?" he asks.

"Of course, I didn't Mark. How was I supposed to?"

"I don't know. But I mean, it was pretty obvious," Mark says, and you scoff.

You could pretty much say the same to him.

"God, I'm such an idiot," Mark shakes his head, and you laugh, squeezing his hand.

"My idiot," you kiss him again.

[11:56 PM]

With the night coming to an end, you feel a slight pang of sorrow as Mark nears your house.

Mark's hand holding yours, squeezes lightly, bringing you out of your thoughts once he's parked on your street. He kissed the back of your hand before exiting the car, opening your door, and helping you out.

You slide his jacket off your shoulders and hand it back to Mark for him to toss into the backseat.

"So," Mark starts.

"So," you take a step closer to him.

"You can truthfully tell me if it really was the worst date of your life," he said with a smile.

You roll your eyes, "Maybe it wasn't."

"Damn, it does feel good being right."

"The night isn't over. There's still time for my answer to change."

"How much time?"

You look at your phone, "Two minutes and 30 seconds."

Mark was the one to initiate the kiss this time. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against his body. You allow Mark's tongue to slip into your mouth, and he hums at the taste of your lipgloss mixed with the wine you drank. Mark pulls away so you can both catch your breath, and you rest your forehead against his.

"Well?"

"Well, this has officially been the best date I've been on," you smile.

He lifts your chin, getting you to look at him, and kisses you one last time.

"Goodnight," he says.

"Goodnight, Mark," you begin to walk up your front steps.

"Wait," Mark stops you, "This isn't gonna be a one time thing is it?"

"Do you want it to be?" you ask.

"No."

"Okay. You'll be seeing me, Mark."

"I'm counting on it."

Walking up to your door, you see the movement of the curtains in the window and shake your head as you put in your key. As expected, the moment you enter your house, you're met with Nyla and Summer waiting for you.

"Date must've gone well," Summer says.

"What makes you say so?" you ask.

"That was pretty intense between you two out on the steps, and you're still grinning like an idiot," Nyla tells you.

"I am not," you deny with said grin still plastered on your face.

[1:34 PM] MONDAY

Mark steps onto the front porch, joining the rest who were outside. He finds you among them in Johnny's driveway, working on Jungwoo's car.

"Whatcha doing?" Mark asks, approaching you.

"Jungwoo says it doesn't sound right so I'm trying to adjust the cylinders and change the air pressure intake," you say.

You might as well have been wearing an expensive white dress and standing at an altar with the way Mark's looking at you. Mark watches as you carefully maneuver your way around the engine, sure not to interfere with anything valuable.

"Try that," you tell Jungwoo, who was sitting behind the wheel.

Jungwoo started his car and revved up the engine a few times, the loud roar sounding like music to your ears. You smile, satisfied, and close the hood of the car.

"You are an angel, you know that," Jungwoo says, appreciatively kissing your cheek before wandering off.

"Yeah, I know," you smile, turning to Mark, "Hi."

"Hi." you notice Mark lick his lips as he eyes you.

"What?"

"Nothing. That was just kinda hot," Mark tells you.

"Yeah? All this sweat and grease really doing it for you?" you joke, wiping your hands with a rag.

"You're definitely doing it for me," Mark says, pulling you toward him by your waist.

Mark kisses you, and you practically melt against his lips. You have to fight the urge to run your fingers through his hair, waiting until you properly wash your hands. You circle your arms around his neck instead, but things don't get too heated as your phone starts ringing.

"You mind?" you ask Mark. He hands you your phone, and you step away to take the call.

"Everything okay?" Mark asks as you return to him.

"Yeah," you tell him before turning to everyone in the front yard, "So, how many of you love me enough to come swing by the garage with me?" you sweetly smile at your friends.

You aren't given a direct answer, but they all move from their spots and start getting into their cars, Mark following you to yours and riding with you.

. . .

You knew signing for the delivery wouldn't have taken long, but no one seemed to be in a rush to leave as they all busied themselves around the autobody shop.

"Damn I really have missed this place," Mark says, looking around with a soft smile.

"You know you've been equally missed," you tell him.

"Say it ain't so. Mark Lee, is that you?" you hear your dad's voice behind you.

"Yes, sir," Mark extends his arm to shake your dad's hand.

You try to continue focusing on the paperwork in front of you as the two exchange small talk before your dad mentions having Mark over for dinner.

"Oh, I couldn't impose-" Mark started.

"It wasn't imposing before, and it still isn't now," your dad says, "Your mom would love to have him over for dinner," he says to you.

"She would," you agree.

"Great, come over next Wednesday," he tells Mark before Soojin pulls your dad away to deal with a customer.

"Come with me," you round the desk and take Mark's hand.

Mark follows your lead through the shop as you take him to where some of your friends congregated around Shotaro's station.

"Hey, Taro. You busy?" you ask, getting his attention.

"Not really," Shotaro says.

"Mark, this is Shotaro. Shotaro, this is Mark." you introduce them.

The Sagittarius' eyes widen as he extends his hand to Mark, "Holy shit, I've seen you race. You're like a god."

"Wow, thank-" Mark begins.

"Alright, I wouldn't say all that," you say.

"Have you seen him drive?" Shotaro asks.

"Of course, he's the only person that can keep up with me. But he usually never beats me over that line," you say with half a smirk.

Shotaro's brows furrow, "Wait, you race?"

Having only been working here a few months, you don't blame Shotaro for not knowing.

"I don't as much as I used to," you say.

"This isn't the first time I've heard this. Why is that?" Mark asks.

You shrug. "I don't know. I guess between school and helping manage this place I kinda lost my enthusiasm about it," you look down at the spare tire on the ground, softly kicking it, suddenly feeling everyone's eyes on you, "And it kinda just wasn't the same without you."

Mark looks as if he's endeared by what you've said. But you clear your throat and quickly change the subject.

"But anyway, how did the dry system hold up?" You ask Shotaro.

"Pretty good. Better than my last one," Shotaro tells you, lifting the hood of his car.

"Holy shit, where did you find these parts?" Mark asks as a few of you gather around the automobile.

"Only knew one place to find them. So I had them imported from Yokohama," Shotaro says.

"Shotaro, you're definitely riding with us to race wars," Hendery says.

"You guys are going too?" Shotaro asks.

"Yeah. Actually, speaking of, how many of us are going to race wars?" Jaehyun asks.

You and Mark used to talk about going to race wars all the time but never got the chance to when you were in high school because your parents would never let you. And by the time you were able to go, Mark wasn't there to be with you, so it just didn't have the same feeling without him.

"Pretty sure all of us here. Probably the rest of the others, too," Jeno says.

"Mark, you're coming?" Jisung asks.

"When is it?" Mark asks.

"It's supposed to be the beginning of next month, but the exact date and location haven't been posted yet. I'll let you know once I find out," Jaemin says.

"Okay," Mark nods, "As long as it doesn't interfere with my brother's wedding, I'll go."

"You could always not go?" Chenle jokes.

"Dude, he's my brother, and I'm the best man."

Everyone now turns their attention to Mark.

"What the fuck? Since when?" Ten asks.

"Since I found out my brother was engaged," Mark answers.

"So you just don't tell anyone shit around here anymore?" you joke.

Mark playfully rolls his eyes, poking his cheek with his tongue.

God, why is he so hot.

You curl your arms around his, "Mark, you have to come. We've always wanted to go together," you pout.

"I know, I know," Mark holds your hand, "If I can, I will. I promise."

That was good enough for you for now.

"Okay."

[6:50 PM] THURSDAY

"Hello?" you answer the phone.

"You still at the garage?" Mark asks.

"Yeah, but I'm about to leave in a few minutes."

"Wanna come over to my place? Watch a movie and maybe drink this bottle of wine I have sitting in front of me."

"I'll need to go home and shower first. I'm all sweaty and greasy," you say.

"I don't really mind. Sweat, grease, and all."

"Well, I do. So I'll be over in an hour."

Mark kisses his teeth, "Fine."

[8:02 PM]

Pulling up to Mark's house, you don't know why you expected it to be any different than how you remember it. But it was the same color and layout and even still had the dent in the garage door from when Yuta accidentally backed into it.

Mark answers the door wearing an old t-shirt, shorts, and glasses. Those goddamn glasses.

"Hi," Mark smiles at you.

"Hi," you step into the house, allowing Mark to pull you in for a kiss. "You miss me or something?" you ask.

"Guess you can say that."

Slipping off your shoes and jacket, you follow Mark into the living room.

"Your parents here?" you ask.

"Nah, they went with my brother to meet the future in-laws," Mark answers. "You want a glass?" he points to the wine bottle sitting on the table.

"Yes, please," you sigh, collapsing onto the couch.

"Long day?"

"Yeah, but it's nothing I'm not used to." you take the wineglass he hands you.

Mark listens to you go on about your day after he asks, only briefly interrupted when he goes to answer the door for the delivery of the food you didn't even know he ordered. After eating your fill of pizza, you continue to watch the movie. You notice how much closer you are now than when you first arrived. You went from sitting right next to Mark to being seated between his legs, your back against his chest.

"Now, I gotta ask, who's your favorite?"

"Spider-man? Garfield for sure. I love the other two but The Amazing Spider-Man has a special place in my heart," you hold your hand over your chest.

"You were supposed to say me," Mark grumbles, rolling his eyes.

You laugh, turning to him, "Mark, you only dressed up once senior year, and that's cause you lost a bet."

"But you can't say I don't make a good Peter Parker," he says.

"Only if I can be your MJ," you joke.

Mark closes the space between you, softly pressing his lips to yours. Having seen No Way Home enough times opening weekend, you didn't mind Mark distracting you from the rest of the movie. You reposition yourself to straddle him and bring your lips back to his. The hands Mark has on your hips move down to cup your ass. Then you start laughing.

"Sorry, did I overstep?" Mark asks, moving his hands away.

"No, you didn't. It's just..nothing, sorry," you apologize.

You start kissing him, cupping his face before you feel his two hands on your ass again, unable to stop the giggles bubbling in your throat.

"What?" Mark can't help but laugh now.

"I'm sorry. I just can't stop thinking about your hands on my ass."

"What's so funny about that?" he asks.

"Nothing. It's just, I can't believe my best friend, Mark Lee, is kissing me with his hands on my ass," you cover your eyes, trying to explain. You shake your head, trying not to overthink this too much. "I swear I'm not laughing at you. I'm just nervous, I guess."

"What for?"

"Because it's you," you say, peaking at him through your fingers.

"I make you that nervous, baby?" Mark pulls your hands away from your face with a crooked smile.

Is he trying to make you spontaneously combust??

"Maybe," you answer.

"Think I can do something to change that," he says, "Come here," he juts his chin toward you, signaling you to kiss him.

You let all thoughts fade away as you leaned into Mark. You grab the sides of his face, pressing your lips to him.

Mark keeps his hands off you until he can practically feel the desperation in your body, letting your hands roam all over him.

Feeling Mark's hands slide up your thighs to your ass made you softly moan into his mouth as he pressed you into his groin.

"Mark…" you breathe shakily.

"You need something?"

"Yeah, you."

You could hear your heart banging against your chest like a drum as you followed Mark up the stairs to his room, your hand in his.

Entering his room, you can see it hasn't changed much either. The same posters are still on the walls, his guitar sitting in its designated corner by his bed, and the small piles of clothes scattered over the floor. You didn't have the chance to get a good look at much else as Mark's lips were back on yours once he closed the door.

The backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed before you fall down onto it. Mark looks down at you lying on his bed, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips, taking his glasses off, and tossing them onto the bed. Mark grabs one of your legs, making space between them for himself, bringing his lips back to yours. Once he starts kissing your neck, you know you're already done for.

"Mark, please," you arch into his touch.

"What, baby?"

"Touch me."

"I am touching you," he smirks, nipping at your jaw.

"God, since when were you such a fucking tease," you say, making him laugh.

"You mean here?" he asks, cupping your sex.

"Mhm," you tug your teeth between your teeth, nodding.

Mark looks into your eyes as he undoes the string of your sweatpants, making sure this is okay. When you don't tell him to stop, Mark slips his hand into your pants, pressing his fingers to the damp cotton, still acting as a barrier, keeping you from what you want.

"You this wet for me, princess?"

You shutter at his use of the pet name, "Yes."

"Mmm," he hums, watching your body react to the smallest of his touches. Mark then pulls your underwear to the side and teases your silt with his middle finger. Your jaw drops, silently moaning when you feel one of his fingers breach your walls.

"Damn, baby, you're soaking for me," Mark smirks against your navel, moving your shirt out of his way as he kisses his way up your stomach.

"Mark, don't say things like that," you whine.

"Why?"

"Cause it's turning me on even more," you roll your hips into his hand.

"That doesn't sound like a reason to stop to me," he stopped kissing your skin once he reached your sternum, "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Good. I'm only getting started," Mark pulls his hand away.

Before you could even protest, Mark's tugging your sweats down your legs, your panties along with them, getting you to lift your hips so he could throw them to the floor. You watch Mark lower himself to his knees on the floor before the bed, directing each of your legs over his shoulders. He softly kisses your inner thighs, nipping your sensitive skin between his teeth.

Mark pulls you closer to his face, looking up at you with eyes blown wide with lust. You try to keep your composure when Mark's tongue licks a fat stripe up your slit. Mark moans at the taste of you, and holds your legs apart as he buries his head between your thighs. Your small whimpers gradually grow into cries of Mark's name as he brings his fingers back to your core, slowly sinking two digits into your pussy.

"Fuck, that feels so good," you comb your fingers through his hair as he catches your clit between his lips.

Your back arches into the air, and you tug harshly on his roots, making him groan into your pussy. Mark's middle and ring finger curl against your velvety walls, moving in a come hither motion once he finds your sweet spot. Between the movements of his head and his fingers pumping in and out of you, you can feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

"Mark.." you sharply moan, "P-Please, don't stop," you beg.

Mark could feel his shorts growing uncomfortably tight the more he heard you moan and felt your pussy flutter around his fingers.

"You wanna cum for me, pretty girl?"

"Yes, Mark, please."

If your eyes didn't flutter shut, you would've caught the smirk on his face before he attacked your clit with his tongue.

At this point, you're no longer able to form full sentences. Mark's mouth makes you lose your senses and every coherent thought you have.

Mark's fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, keeping you from squirming too much as he eats you out like a man feasting after days of starving.

"Oh my god!" your eyes roll back, "M'gonna cum," you warn through a whimper.

Mark never let up. The pace of his fingers picking up and his tongue flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves had your toes curling. Your legs closed around his head once your orgasm hit you. Your cries and trembling legs went unnoticed by Mark as he was too enamored with the feeling and taste of you in his mouth.

"Mark, Mark, Mark," you whine, softly pushing his head away.

You open your eyes to find Mark with his fingers in his mouth, licking your slick off them. Even through your fatigue, seeing him with messy hair from you pulling on it and his face glistening with your juices reignited your insatiable desire for him.

"You okay?"

"Okay? Am I okay?" you raise a brow, "Mark, I can't remember the last time someone made me cum like that from just going down on me," you throw your arm over your eyes, still coming down from your high.

"I'm glad to be of service, then," he moves your arm away, kissing you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning around his tongue when it clashes with your own, tasting yourself on his lips.

You flip Mark onto the bed without breaking the kiss, and he rests his hands on your thighs, roughly kneading your flesh. You hum, feeling his hard clothed cock resting between your folds, Mark grabbing your ass to get you to roll your hips into his, letting a sound that closely resembles a whine climb up his throat.

Mark chases after your lips when you pull away, opening his eyes to see you admiring him.

"You're so pretty, Mark," you say, softly brushing his hair out of his eyes, and you swear you heard a whimper slip from his swollen lips.

Mark blushes, turning away from you so you don't notice. But you do. You grab his jaw, making him look at you, and pull him close enough, your lips to ghost over his.

"My pretty boy," you kiss his lips.

His cock stirs beneath you as you kiss your way down his neck. You tug on the collar of his shirt, getting Mark to pull it over his head, throwing it to the floor next to your clothes. You run your hand down his toned chest, a light trail of hair on his lower stomach disappearing into his shorts.

"Can I?" you ask, hooking your finger in the waistband of his shorts.

"Yeah," Mark nods.

Once his pants are off, you're both left in only one piece of clothing; his boxers and your shirt.

You kneel between his legs while Mark sits back on his hands, just watching you. Resting your hand on his leg, you softly squeeze his thigh before slowly sliding over to the bulge in his underwear. Palming the outline of his heavy cock has Mark tilting his head back, but not too much so he can still watch you as you waste no more time and release his dick from its confinements.

Your eyes widen, and the corners of your lips twitch, seeing his cock spring free, lightly slapping against his lower stomach. Precum dribbles from his slit and your mouth practically waters. You wrap your fingers around his length, smearing the beads of precum with your thumb. His cock twitches in your grasp, a raspy groan falling from his lips and shooting straight to your core.

"Mark, please tell me you have a condom somewhere in this house," you look at him through your lashes.

"Second drawer," he nods to his nightstand.

"Were you stocking up for this?" you ask, finding the industrial-sized box.

"No," Mark laughs, "Donghyuck 'gifted' that to me after our first date."

"Now, why would he do that?" you ask, straddling his thigh.

You already know your friend can have a perverted way of thinking, but you wanted to hear Mark's reasoning.

"Cause I couldn't stop talking about you in that fucking dress," he grips your waist, "Let's just say it was a lot harder to keep my gentlemanly manners than I thought it would be that night."

"As much as I appreciated the consideration," you say, "I wore that dress hoping you would've taken it off me," you lean into his ear.

"Fuck me," Mark groans under his breath and digs his fingers into your hips.

You grin, kissing him. Since you're distracted, Mark snatches the condom from your hand and pushes you onto your back. He sits back on his haunches, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and tears the package with his teeth before rolling the latex on and pumping his cock in his hands a few times.

Laying there with your hair splayed out on the pillows, your bottom lip between your teeth, and your thighs desperately itching to rub together at the sight of the man before you, Mark slowly begins losing his grip on any sort of restraint he has left. Mark wraps his arms under your thighs, pulling your hips closer to his. You can feel yourself growing wetter by the second as Mark keeps his eyes locked with yours, rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds.

"Mark, please," your voice was barely above a whisper, yet Mark still heard the traces of desperation.

The blunt head of his cock presses against your slit before being enveloped by your slick pussy. He takes his time easing into you as your walls open up for him.

"Oh, god—Mark," you choke out, feeling the way you have to adjust to his size.

"I know, I know, baby," Mark coos, "It's okay. Just relax for me," he soothed his hand up and down your leg.

You nod, and Mark starts kissing your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tipping back to give him more access to mark up the side of your throat. As Mark sinks his teeth into your skin and can feel how incredibly wet you become, your pussy practically sucking him the rest of the way in.

"How're you doing, princess?" Mark kisses his way back up your neck.

"Fuck, Mark, you feel so big," you roll your head back onto his pillow. Mark smiles, peppering your face with kisses while whispering sweet praises.

"Let's just take it slow then, okay," he says, slowly drawing his hips back.

The feeling of his cock dragging against your walls as he slowly left your heat, only to fill you up again, had your eyes rolling back.

"I feel so…you make me feel so—Full," you stumble over your words, moaning.

The chuckle that leaves his lips leads a new wave of arousal to flood through your body and clench around him.

"And you're doing so good for me," he kisses your jaw. Mark continues slowly moving his hips, using deep sensual strokes to fuck you. Now fully submerged in pleasure, you beg Mark for more.

Mark grabs your leg hooked around his hip and begins picking up his rhythm. Bringing his eyes down to where your bodies were connected, he watches his dick disappear between your folds. Mark's shallow pants slowly transition into broken whimpers. You're just barely holding on, and Mark continues coaxing you closer to the edge.

"You're making me feel so good, Mark," you tell him.

Mark tries to conceal his noises, burying his head in your neck, but you disapprove.

"Come on, Markie," you direct his face to look at you, "I wanna hear you, pretty boy," you grin, running your thumb along his bottom lip.

"Fuck~" he whines.

"Don't stop, baby, m'so close," you say.

"M-Me too—fuck, you feel so good," his voice fluctuates.

"S'all for you, pretty boy," you tell him, and you almost cum from his whimpers alone.

"God, stop calling me that," Mark pants, screwing his eyes shut.

"Why?" you smirk, bringing your fingers beneath his chin to make him look at you.

Damp strands of blonde hair hung in his face as he opened his lust-filled eyes, "I won't be able to last any longer," he answers.

"You gonna cum for me, Mark?" you roll your hips into his, making him deeply groan.

Mark holds your jaw with one hand, keeping intimate eye contact as he repeatedly thrusts into you. He runs his thumb along your bottom lip before pushing his finger into your mouth, and you eagerly accept.

"Not until you cum for me first," he says, sliding his thumb out of your mouth and bringing it to your clit.

"Oh—fuck, Mark, please," you cry.

Mark lowers himself to kiss you, muffling both of your sweet noises.

You frantically search for something to grab onto, finding Mark's shoulders first as you cum. Your pussy clamps around his cock, sending Mark into his own orgasm. Soft, breathy moans fill your ears as Mark's hips stutter, and he fills the condom with his cum.

"Holy shit," he drops his head to your shoulder.

You softly run your fingers through the strands of his sweaty hair as he kisses your damp skin. Pressing his lips to the side of your neck, Mark finds your lips meeting in a lazy kiss.

"Wait here," he tells you, the huskiness of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You whimper as he slips his cock out of the pulsating warmth of your pussy, leaving you clenching around nothing.

After tossing the condom into the trash and slipping his boxers back on, you watch Mark shuffle out of the room. He returns with a wet cloth, pulling your legs apart and wiping away the stickiness clinging to your folds.

"Are you okay?" Mark asks.

"Yeah."

"You're very quiet," he lays down next to you.

"I'm thinking," you say, turning in his direction.

"About?"

"You," you answer, "There's no going back after this, Mark."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Am I?" you smile, "I'm not saying that cause I regret this, Mark. I'm saying this as a warning cause it'll be harder for you to get rid of me now," you wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek.

Mark laughs, resting his hands on your lower back. "I can't image I would ever want to anyway," he kisses you.

[9:43 PM] SATURDAY

"No one even knew Yuta was back in town until today, how did so many people find out?" Summer says as your car nears the entrance to the parking garage.

It had taken you nearly ten minutes to move up in the line of cars that had formed. You're just glad you got here when you did, considering that the line was now streaming down the street.

Since Yuta had sent out the location at practically the last minute, you weren't expecting the dig to have this big of a turnout. You don't even know how Yuta set it up, but since the renovations to the parking garage weren't nearly finished yet, it was closed off from the rest of the public. Which meant for you, it was the perfect place for races to be conducted without having to worry about any civilians.

You finally reach the barrier gate where Yunho and Changbin are standing post.

"Hey, Sunny," Changbin says to Summer.

"Hi, Binnie," she sweetly smiles as she hands him the money for the entry fee, "I'll see you in there?" she asks.

"Yeah," Changbin smiles, "You're good to go, y/n." he nods to you.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?" Nyla asks Summer as you start following the cars down to the underground level.

"What?" Summer asks.

"You and Binnie?" You raise your brows, "When did that start?"

"It's nothing. We're just friends."

You and Nyla share a glance in your rearview mirror. "Sure, whatever you say," Nyla drops it.

Just as you reach the bottom level, you see Haechan driving in the opposite direction, and you roll down your window to talk to him.

"Where are you guys going, we just got here?" you ask Haechan.

"Damien called Jaemin out," Hyuck tells you, "Come on," he waves at you to follow him.

You tail Haechan's car up to the third level and easily find a few more of your friends, or rather their cars, knowing they're somewhere close by. Parking between Jungwoo and Xiaojun's cars, you gravitate toward the cluster of your friends, spotting a mop of silky jet-black hair among them.

"Yuta!" you walk up with open arms to be embraced in a hug.

"I know I was only gone for two weeks but seems like I've missed a lot anyway," Yuta says, "So, where is lover boy Mark?"

"He's on his way," you say.

"I can't believe it took all these years for you two to finally get together," he teased.

"I'm starting to get tired of hearing this," you roll your eyes playfully.

"Well, it's true. You two were so ridiculously down bad for one another," Yuta teases, and you lightly hit his arm.

More people begin filling in as they anticipate the race about to go down. Jaemin's car sits at the starting point, along with Damien's. Now the only thing you're left waiting for is Johnny, Yangyang, Hendery, and Jaehyun to set up their positions around the so-called track.

"Fuck this," your impatience gets the best of you, and you snatch the walkie-talkie from Chenle's back pocket, "Are we ready?" you ask.

"Track's all clear, we're good to go," Johnny responds to you.

Once you have confirmation from all five groups, you take the lead and stand in front of the cars.

"You guys already know the rules. It's five levels from here to the top. Whoever makes it there first, wins," you clarify, "Ready?" you ask Jaemin and Damien.

They both nod and you motion for them to inch their cars up just a bit so their bumpers line up exactly. You raise your hands, and the crowd begins cheering as both cars rev up. You drop your arms, and you're engulfed in the smoke their burnouts left behind as the cars whipped past you. As everyone else runs for the elevator and stairs to get to the rooftop before Jaemin and Damien do, there's only one person not moving along with the herds of people, walking toward you instead.

"You're probably the hottest race marshal I've ever seen," Mark says as you turn on your heels, almost crashing right into him.

"Mark," your face splits into a smile, cupping his face and kissing his lips.

"Miss me, baby?" he asks with a chuckle.

"Yeah, pretty boy," you tease.

Mark kisses you again, firmly keeping one hand on your lower back.

"Hey! Y'all can suck faces later, but get your asses in here now!" Summer yells from the elevator.

Remembering the race, you grab Mark's hand, run into the elevator, and head for the top floor.

Since Yangyang and Jaehyun were exclusively live-streaming the entire race for people to watch from the different levels they were on, everyone's eyes were glued to their phones, waiting for Jaemin and Damien to reach the top. You all watch from Jisung's phone as Jaemin takes the lead once he passes Ten on the sixth floor, drifting the turn up to the seventh, and you smile proudly since you had been the one who taught him how to in the first place.

You can hear the tires screeching and the deep resonance of the engines making their way up each floor. Hitting one last turn and perfectly timing his gear shift, Jaemin drifts his car up the ramp. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as everyone celebrated Jaemin's win, even himself, with a few victory donuts.

You would've been right there alongside everyone else, congratulating Jaemin on his win if Mark hadn't used this chance while everyone was distracted and not paying attention to either of you.

Your back meets a concrete wall with a soft thud while Mark's lips attack yours.

"What's with you, Markie?" You ask.

A low groan rumbles in his chest, "You're just so…fucking beautiful."

"Thank you, baby," you kiss his nose.

"Hey, Mark!" someone calls him, "How about you lay off your girl for a bit and let us see if you're still the big shot you thought you were in high school," Sean says.

You turn to Sean with your brows raised. The only thing holding you back from wiping that snarky grin off his face is Mark's arm still wrapped around you.

Mark's entire demeanor was calm as he nodded at Sean, "Alright. Me and you, right now," Mark says.

You follow Mark back down to the ground floor to get his car, riding with him. He holds your hand the entire drive back up to the third level, where spectators had already lined the pathway, expecting the next race.

"Do I really need to wish you luck?" you ask Mark as you look over at Sean overconfidently revving up his engine.

"I know I can take him. But I'd still appreciate it from you."

"Baby, you got this," you kiss his lips.

Mark watches as you sit back and lift your hips, reaching under your skirt to pull your panties down your legs. You hand the bunched-up lace to Mark, leaning over to his ear. "But just hold onto these just in case. Your good luck charm," you smirk.

Mark chuckles as he shoves your underwear into his pocket, looking over at you with a smile playing on his lips. "You just wait until I can get you alone," Mark pulls you in for one last kiss before you get out of his car.

You join everyone else on the sidelines as Yuta riles the crowd up. Mark looks over at you and winks. Yuta raises his arms, and Sean dramatically burns out his tires while Mark comfortably sits back in his seat. With him looking so relaxed, settling into his element behind the wheel makes heat pool in your lower stomach. Subtly pressing your thighs together, you begin to regret handing over your underwear, feeling the warmth between your legs.

"Go!" Yuta yells, and both cars take off. Summer grabs your hand, leading you to the elevator to head back up to the top floor.

As you all wait for Mark and Sean's cars to near the final level, the door to the stairwell swings open, and Nyla trudges through, making her way over to you all.

"Why're you out of breath?" Jeno asks, receiving a glare from Nyla.

"Jae and I were on the fourth floor, and those steps.." she gasps, "are no joke." Once she finally catches her breath, Nyla tells you, "I left my bag in your car, I need your keys."

You reach into your skirt pocket and pluck out your keys, handing them to Nyla before she heads for the elevator. Turning your attention back to the race, you recognize the sound of Mark's engine, and you smile as his car drifts up the ramp, beating Sean. Mark's tires screech against the pavement before he takes his foot off the gas and gets out of his car. The crowd rushes Mark, celebrating his win, you along with them.

"I told you you had him," you say to Mark.

"I'll say it was your good luck charm that secured it," he smirked.

But all the celebrating is cut short when you see people running before you hear the sirens making their way up the levels of the garage, and Mark instinctively grabs your hand.

"And I think that's our cue," Renjun grabs his drink and gets into Jeno's car.

It's hard to tell which direction the sirens are coming from as the sound bounces off every surface in the open space.

"Get in," Mark says to you, Summer, and Jisung.

You trust Nyla enough with your car to not even be concerned about it and jump into the passenger seat. Mark wastes no time shifting into drive once you're all inside and starts looking for an escape route. He avoids the exit everyone else was trying to leave from as a traffic jam starts building up, and people honking their horns isn't helping to get things moving.

"Is that Chenle?" you hear Summer ask from the backseat. You then turn your head to see the blue and red lights shadowing Chenle's silhouette as he runs toward Mark's car.

"Dude, come on!" Jisung yells to Chenle, opening the door.

Chenle dives head-first into the back seat, throwing himself across Summer and Jisung's laps.

"Go, go, go!" Chenle exclaims. Mark presses his foot on the gas and begins speeding away.

Finally finding a clear exit, Mark floors it before yanking his e-break as a police car turns the corner. You hear the cops' megaphone telling Mark to stop driving and for all of you to get out of the vehicle.

"Mark," you call him warily.

"I know," he shifts gears, "Hold on," he says, reversing the car, looking through the rear windshield over his shoulder, and putting his hand behind the headrest of your seat.

Mark expertly drives his car backward, turning the wheel with one hand, and the police continue to chase after you before Mark reaches another exit. Ending up back on the city streets, you lose the police tail, and you feel a sigh of relief throughout the entire car.

"Yeah I'm with her, Mark, Chenle, and Jisung," you hear Summer say. "Ningning's with Nyla and they have your car," she tells you as she's on the phone.

"Thank god. Tell them to bring it to Johnny's."

"They're already on their way."

Mark's car drives up to Johnny's house around the same time everyone else arrives. Just like always, the party goes on as if nothing had happened. Summer, Jisung, and Chenle get out of the car, Chenle already retelling the events of what just happened to Yangyang and Haechan when they meet in the front yard.

You and Mark don't get out yet, the two of you just silently holding each other's gaze. Mark had one hand lazily thrown over the wheel, sitting back in his seat as he eyed you.

"Mark, get out of the car," you tell him.

"Why?" Mark asks.

"Between the way you just handled that and the way you're looking at me right now, I can't promise I can hold myself back any longer."

Mark's eyes drift down from your face, tugging his lip between his teeth. The corners of his lips curl up as he takes his car out of park. Mark pulls his car into Johnny's garage, and the party fades into a dull hum once the door shuts. You and Mark are now alone, only in the presence of the other dormant vehicles in the garage.

Mark turns his car off, and you push yourself out of your seat, leaning over the console to kiss him. Mark's hand blindly fumbles with the seat adjuster to move his seat back and allow you to climb into his lap.

"What's gotten into you?" Mark asks, smiling against your lips.

"You," you card your fingers through the soft blonde curls, "Mark, you're just so..hot," you roll your hips into his. Mark's hands slide up your thighs, slipping under your skirt. You can already feel the wetness dripping onto Mark's jeans, the rough material deliciously dragging against your clit. You moan around Mark's tongue, and he grips your body tighter. You accidentally lean against the wheel, hitting the horn, startling yourself and Mark.

Mark laughs along with you, "Backseat?"

"Backseat," you nod before climbing into the back of his car.

Now with more room, you grab Mark and comfortably settle in his lap. You feel the bulge in his jeans against your inner thigh and roll your hips into his. Mark's head falls back against the window, and you take the opportunity to kiss his neck. Mark's eyes flutter shut as you cradle the back of his head and sink your teeth into his skin. The moan that falls from his lips causes you to get wetter.

"Mark?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Can I?" you ask, slipping your hand between your bodies and palming him through his pants.

"Yeah."

You slide out of his lap and quickly undo the button of his jeans. You waste no time trying to get his clothes off and just pull his cock out of his underwear, your mouth already salivating.

"Oh, Mark," you clench your thighs together, "You're so pretty."

His breathing becomes shallow as he says, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby," you kiss the tip of his cock before kitten-licking the drips of precum leaking down his shaft.

Mark sharply gasps, and the grin on your face grows bigger. You let spit dribble out of your mouth and onto his dick to assist your hand, jerking him. You wrap your lips around the sensitive tip, slowly sucking him into your mouth. Mark softly groans, placing his hand on your head. He brushes your hair out of the way so he can see your face.

"My god, look at you," he swipes a string of spit hanging from your lips when you come up for air. You playfully bite his thumb before taking his cock back into your mouth.

Hearing Mark's heavy breathing slowly turn into breathy whimpers encourages you to take more of him down your throat. You feel one of Mark's hands sliding down your back, flipping your skirt over your ass. He dips a finger into your pussy, humming approvingly when he feels how wet you are.

You are grateful his windows were tinted well past the legal limit just in case someone drunkenly stumbled into the garage.

"You get this wet from just sucking my dick, princess?" Mark smirks as he plays with your folds. "Such a dirty dirty girl," he calls you, making you moan around his cock and clench around his fingers. You lose focus and drop your head to his thigh.

"Mark," you whine as he curls his two fingers against your soft walls.

"Come on, baby," he strokes your head, "You're doing so good for me."

You slide his cock back into your mouth upon his words, swirling your tongue around the tip. Mark rests his head against the foggy window and utters soft praises between moans.

You smile, "You sound so pretty for me, Mark,"

"Feels so good," he tells you.

"Gonna cum for me, pretty boy?"

"Yes."

You ignore the burn in your arm and pump his cock faster in your hand. "Cum for me, Mark. I know you want to."

"I do, I do—fuck—I do," his voice cracks.

Your name mixed with his moans, had you dripping down your thighs. You bob your head to the same rhythm as your hand. Mark's thighs twitch, and he bucks his hips against your face. You feel the warmth filling your mouth as Mark cums. Waiting until you feel his cock soften against your tongue, you pull yourself off him and swallow his cum.

"Fuck," he sighs, "You're so good to me."

"Anything for my pretty boy," you kiss him.

Mark grabs the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He pushes his tongue past your lips, tasting the lingering saltiness in your mouth. Mark pulls you back on top of him to straddle his thigh. You start grinding your hips against his denim-clad leg.

"As much as I like having you beneath me I think I like seeing you on top of me more," Mark says, looking up at you. "That feel good, princess?" he asks, purposely flexing his thigh.

"Yes," you whimper.

"You that desperate, you gotta fuck yourself on my thigh like this?"

"For you, yes," you tell him.

Mark cups your ass beginning to direct your movements as he holds eye contact with you. You can't take it anymore and bury your head in his neck. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I'm gonna cum," you mumble against his throat.

"Already?" he teases. Mark pulls your face out of the crook of his neck. "Let me see your pretty face when you cum for me."

"Mark," you grab onto his shoulders.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Say my name."

"Mark, please."

You throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut and digging your manicured nails into Mark's skin.

"That's it, baby. That's my good girl," he rubs his hands up your thighs, and you continue to ride out your high.

You slump against Mark's body, and he holds you close, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

"That was so hot." Mark says.

You smile into the kiss, "The things you do to me, Mark Lee."

You hear a knock on the door, and Mark rolls down the window just a crack to see who it is.

"Yes?" you say to Johnny, standing outside the car.

"In my garage? Really?" Johnny placed his hands on his hips like a disappointed father.

"It's my car," Mark says.

"In my garage."

"Jesus, here he goes."

"We'll be out in a sec." you say to Johnny before rolling the window back up.

"I'm not finished with you yet," Mark says as he buttons up his jeans.

"Neither am I," You grab his hand as you exit the garage and head toward the house, "And I mean…Johnny does have four other spare bedrooms," you say, and Mark smirks at you, following you into the house.

[11:25 PM] WEDNESDAY

"Are you sure you like it?" Mark asks you for what seems like the fifth time tonight.

"Mark, why would I lie to you?" you ask.

"I don't know, you just seemed to love the blonde so much," he says, running his fingers through his silky dark hair.

Knowing Mark was planning on dying his hair back before his brother's wedding and seeing how his roots started to grow, you should've expected the change sooner rather than later. But still, you were surprised when he showed up at your parent's house for dinner, and you answered the door to find the brunette instead of the blonde you were expecting.

"Yeah, but you're still pretty, babe," you comb your fingers through his hair, making him lean into your touch.

"Thank you," he sheepishly smiles, lowering his head, attempting to hide the blush from the others rather than you. "So, I have a question for you," Mark says.

"What is it?" you ask.

"How would you like to-"

"Race wars date and location just dropped," Jaemin announces, standing from his seat.

With all of you sitting around the living room, you all wait for Jaemin to tell you.

"Well, are you gonna tell us?" Jeno asks impatiently.

"Not with that attitude," Jaemin scoffs. He clears his throat as if he's making an official announcement, stating the location before saying the date, "It starts next Friday-"

"Next Friday? Like the Friday after this one?" Mark asks.

"That is…what next Friday means?" Jaemin says.

"Mark, no," you start.

"I'm sorry," Mark looks at you apologetically.

"Wait, what?" Nyla asks.

"My brother's wedding is next Friday."

"Couldn't you just come afterwards?" Johnny asks.

"Not with that long ass drive. I know I'm good, but I'm not that good."

You were wracking your brain for every possible scenario you can come up with so that Mark would be able to go with you.

"I don't know if I'm the only one thinking this but why can't you just come down Saturday?" Chenle asks.

"I mean he could, but they changed the rule with check-in to keep too many locals from taking up space. So check-in is only available Friday. He wouldn't be able to race." Yangyang says.

"What's so wrong with that?" Summer asks.

"It's his first race wars. You really think he'd want to sit on the sidelines with you all weekend?" Renjun asks.

"Now, you listen, Huang-" Summer starts.

The bickering among your friends continued as you sit quietly, still thinking.

"What if I went with you?" you ask.

"To my brother's wedding?" Mark questions.

"I'm not trying to forcefully invite myself. But if I go with you, you and I can do that drive. We'd get there pretty late but I'm pretty sure if I talk to Taeyong I can work something out."

"You wouldn't be inviting yourself since I was just about to invite you myself."

"Really? You were gonna ask me to come as your date?" you ask, endeared.

"Well I was gonna ask you to come as my girlfriend—I mean technically you'd still be my date, but my date as my girlfriend-"

You hear nothing else after girlfriend. His girlfriend. Mark's girlfriend.

"Mark, are you kidding me?" you ask, genuinely in disbelief.

"No?"

You grab Mark's shirt and kiss him. That definitely got everyone quiet.

"Woah, woah, what did we just miss?" Haechan asks.

"I'm taking your answer as a yes," Mark says to you.

"Yes, Mark. I will come to your brother's wedding as your girlfriend," you can't help the grin stretching across your face as you say it. You then move your legs out of his lap and turn to the rest of the group. "Alright, so here's what's going to happen," you start explaining your plan to everyone.

[7:21 AM] (next) FRIDAY

"Sunny, let's go!" Nyla yells from the front door.

"I'm coming," Summer replies, dragging her oversized suitcase down the steps behind her.

Following her down the stairs, you meet the rest of your friends outside. You make sure you've packed everything you'd need for the weekend in your car before you hand your keys over to Sungchan.

"Sungchan, do you understand how much I'm trusting you right now. This is my baby," you tell him.

"Yes, I know. I promise I'll be careful with her," Sungchan nods.

You watch as Shotaro helps the younger boy hook your car up to the rig connected to the back of Sungchan's vehicle.

"Kun just called me before he boarded his flight, and said the house is ready for us. And we should really get a move on if we don't wanna hit traffic," Hendery says.

"Though I do appreciate Kun letting us use the vacation house, why isn't he going?" Goeun asks.

"He's flying out to Shanghai to meet up with Winwin. He said the car scene out there is some next level shit," Yangyang says.

"So what I'm hearing is we're making a trip to China soon," Summer says.

"Can we get to this race wars first?"

"We'll see you and Mark later tonight?" Nyla asks before she gets into Jaehyun's car. You confirm with a nod. "Have fun." she tells you.

"You too. But not too much without us," you say.

"No promises," Jaehyun playfully winks at you before driving away.

[1:19 PM]

As your Uber pulls up to the venue, you feel the smile rushing to your face when you see Mark outside waiting for you. He opens your door and holds his hand out for you.

"Wow, baby, you look…damn," he licks his lips as he stands back to get a full view of you.

"Mark, knock it off," you laugh.

Mark excitedly squeezes your hand as he walks you inside, his body seemingly buzzing.

"Babe, you okay?" you ask Mark.

"Yeah, I'm just excited to introduce you to everyone."

"We basically grew up together, Mark. Haven't I been introduced to practically everyone."

"Yeah, but not as my girlfriend," he grins.

You both made your rounds for a bit, Mark proudly showing you off to everyone before he got called away when all the groomsmen were needed for pictures, leaving you to wander over to the bar.

"I see all this secret pining has finally come to an end," you hear a voice from someone at the bar beside you. Seeing the cousin of the bride wasn't surprising, but you're still happy to see him after all these years.

"It was about time, wasn't it," you say to Doyoung.

"I'll say. It was exhausting watching you two be in love and not say anything to each other," Doyoung says.

"In love? Okay, now you're over-exaggerating," you roll your eyes, sipping your drink.

"Taeil, back me up on this," Doyoung calls his friend.

"On what?" Taeil asks, turning to you two.

"This one and Mark being so obviously in love since high school."

Taeil turns to you and starts laughing, "Oh, you're serious?" he stops laughing, "Well he's right."

"Taeil, you're not supposed to take his side!" you cross your arms over your chest.

"Sorry, kid."

Once it was time for the ceremony to start, the wedding coordinator ushered everyone to their seats. Before the groom came out, Mark walked down the aisle along with the maid of honor.

"You ready for that to be you next?" Doyoung asks Taeil as Mark's brother walks out.

"Am I," he smiled at his girlfriend, who stood along with the rest of the bridesmaids.

"I'm sorry did I miss something?" you ask.

"Oh right, I'm engaged, by the way," Taeil says nonchalantly as music for the bride starts playing.

"What the fuck?" you try to whisper, "Oh my god, since when?"

"Since last month," he answers.

You don't have time to celebrate the news anymore, with Doyoung shushing the two of you as the groom and bride start their vows.

The last time you attended a wedding was before you could even drive, so you barely remember what happened, but you can count you weren't as emotional at the last one. It may also have to do with your proximity to the couple, almost feeling as if you were watching your own brother get married. You try to keep your composure as the bride continues on her vows.

"There's nothing in my life I regret since it had all led me to you. I knew I loved you from the second we met. You've seen my at my bests and worsts. You know about all the good, the bad, the ugly, the dirty, yet you still accept and love me as I am. All the days I've spent with you, laughing, crying, smiling, yelling and there's not a single one I would take back or change-"

You can't stop the tears welling up in your eyes. You didn't really think the bride's vows would tug at your heartstrings the way they did, and all you can think about is Mark. Your eyes find his already looking at you.

As the tears fall, you give him a small smile before mouthing, "I love you," to him.

Mark tries to fight the smile coming to his face, not wanting to draw attention to himself before he mouths back, "I love you too."

You hadn't even realized the tears were streaming down your face until Doyoung handed you a tissue.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"It's just so beautiful, isn't it?" Taeil asks, also crying and pulling out his own tissues.

[5:57 PM]

Between dancing and socializing at the reception, while waiting for the cake to be cut, you and Mark ended up leaving later than you originally planned.

By the time you were in Mark's car and on the road, the sun had started to set. Mark had one hand on the wheel while you had the other in your lap, fiddling with his fingers. You look over at him, your chest filling with warmth as you take in the way the pink and orange hues contour his features.

"You know I meant what I said before," you break the silence.

"I know," he kisses the back of your hand, "I just didn't expect you'd say it first."

"Why's that?"

"Because I know how guarded you can be with your feelings sometimes," he explains, "But still, I've been in love with you since I was 16—It's kinda crazy actually, I didn't realize it until I was already on my flight to Korea."

You ignore the tears pricking your eyes as you lean closer to Mark, peppering his face with kisses.

"I love you, Mark Lee."

[10:13 AM] SATURDAY

You wake up with the sun shining on your face. You turn over, searching for the warmth of Mark's body. Considering how tired you both were, practically collapsing onto the bed when you two finally arrive some time after two this morning, you're surprised to not find Mark still sleeping beside you, his side of the bed empty.

"Mark?" you call him without opening your eyes.

"Yeah?" you hear him reply.

"Where are you?" you ask, eyes still closed.

"I'm right here, baby," you hear his voice a lot closer as the mattress sinks under his weight.

You feel his lips on yours. Still half asleep, your reaction was delayed before you kissed him back.

"This early in the morning, Mark?" you ask with a lazy smile.

"As hard as it was to stop myself yesterday, I also have a feeling we'll be pretty busy all weekend, so I'll take every chance I get." he says.

You laugh as his nose ghost over your throat, sending goosebumps all over your skin. Mark slips his hand under the shirt of his you were wearing and cups your breast in his hand. You arch into his touch, nibbling on his bottom lip. Your head sinks into the pillows when Mark rolls the pad of his thumb over your perky nipple. Mark doesn't take his eyes away from your face as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your hand finds his hair, and your fingers curl around the messy dark locks as he swirls his tongue around your areola. He gently tugs your nipple between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his thigh between your legs.

"Mark..." you finally open your eyes to look at your boyfriend.

"Can I?" he asks, toying with the hem of your panties.

"Please," you nod.

Mark pulls your underwear down your legs and grips your thighs as he comfortably settles on his stomach. He guides your legs over his shoulder while leaving a trail of kisses and small bites up your thighs. Mark runs the tip of his tongue along your slit, humming when your juices land on his tastebuds.

"Oh my god, Mark," your nails lightly scratch his scalp.

He moans back at you in response, the vibrations from his mouth sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. Your eyes screw shut, and you bite your lips so hard you're afraid you've drawn blood. You try with everything in your body to stay quiet. But with Mark messily eating you out, languidly moving his skilled tongue against your walls, you can't even stay still, let alone be quiet.

"Please, baby, don't stop," you tell him.

Before you even register the knock on your door, Summer enters your room, and your entire body freezes.

"Hey-Where's Mark?"

You glance at Mark under the covers between your thighs, out of sight, and he smirks. You try to hide your reaction as he teasingly kitten-licks your clit. You squeeze your thighs around his head and quickly rush out an answer for Summer.

"He went to go refill his tank before we go out today," you say.

"Oh, okay. Well, breakfast is ready in ten, then we're all leaving around 11. Cool?"

You nod. "Yeah, yeah. We'll be ready by then."

Once Summer leaves, you barely have time to be relieved with Mark picking up like he never really stopped, making you cum on his tongue.

"Fuck, Mark," you squirm, letting your orgasm wash over you. Mark continues lapping at your folds until he's satisfied. Coming from under the covers, Mark wipes the lower half of his face with the back of his hand.

"What the fuck was that?" you ask, breathless.

"You told me not to stop," he grins, and you roll your eyes, "You can't even act like you hate me 'cause I know you love me," he kisses you.

"I'm beginning to rethink that decision," you tease.

[2:24 PM]

Having been out in the sun practically all day watching races and even taking a few rides yourself, you decided to give your car and yourself a break from the sun. You parked under one of the canopies Johnny set up and took a seat on your hood. Coming back from watching Chenle race Ningning, you spot the top of Mark's head through the crowd, beginning to make his way over to you.

The look on his face can only be compared to that of a kid in a candy store. You love watching the way his eyes light up talking about the race, rambling on and on, you not minding one bit.

"So, is this everything you hoped it'd be?" you ask Mark.

He nods, subtly parting your legs to stand between them. "And so much more," he kisses you.

"Hey!" someone yells, grabbing everyone's attention, "how about you and me," Leo calls Mark out.

"Alright, how much?" Mark asks.

"No money," Leo smiles before turning to you, "I win, I get to take you out."

"As fucking if," you slide off the hood of your car, Mark instinctively wrapping his arm around you before you can get too far, some of the others coming to your defense as well. "You already had your chance and fucked that up. What makes you think I'll willingly put myself through that again? You wanna try and make yourself feel better by racing him, it'll be for two grand take it or leave it," you say to Leo.

"So he can have a shot at winning a date through a race but I can't?" Leo asks.

"Because he didn't try to win me over like I'm just a pink slip, and he doesn't have an ego bigger than an eighteen-wheeler."

"Fine. You're on, Mark," Leo nods at your boyfriend, "But we'll see if you'll feel the same when I beat him across the line," Leo smirks at you, and you scoff.

Spectators gather on either side of the runway, cheering for either racer as their cars pull up to the starting line. You had been suspiciously eyeing Leo the entire time he sat in his car with that stupid grin on his face.

"What's wrong?" Mark asks you.

"I don't doubt that you can beat him. But I don't trust he won't try anything," You say before walking up to Taeyong while Sean talks to him. "I'm riding with Mark," you tell Taeyong.

"What? You can't," Sean crossed his arms.

"There aren't any rules against it," Taeyong says.

"And how exactly do you think that'll help your little boyfriend? It can throw off his equilibrium and slow him down," Sean tries looking down his nose at you.

"Which is why you're gonna get your ass in that passenger's seat and ride with your little bestie over there," you point to Leo's car, "I mean, it's not like you haven't already gotten your own front row experience losing to my little boyfriend," you tilt your head. Sean grumbles before he walks over to Leo's car, and you get into Mark's.

"We're really doing this?" Mark asks.

"Ride or die, remember?" you hold out your hand.

Mark smiles, finishing the quote as he takes your hand, "Ride or die."

a/n: i’m telling y’all ever since ay-yo, mark has been living in my head rent free—currently the owner of a few properties, if you will. this is the longest thing i’ve ever written and tbh it would’ve been longer if there wasn’t a text block limit so i did the best with what i had 😭 and like i said before all my knowledge about cars is based off the fast and furious movies so…thank you so much for reading!! feedback is appreciated <33 tag list <33: @chardonnayyyy @aliceinwhateverland @itzz-me-duh @nctevia @sirens-dreams @pieddpiperr @yujuvly @scarletsknight

2K notes · View notes