#'But Lamp the laser isn't a cool car-'

[thelampisaflashlight]

Me, who spent my formative years in and around a mechanic shop and in garages: “Car talk is boring. I hate fancy car culture, and I think it’s stupid.”

Also Me: -seeing the local pizza guy driving a cloth top Mustang convertible with fox body and that one delivery dude who drives a two door Plymouth Laser- “...Understand that this is not about you.”

[soramel]

Sapiens (One-shot)

Yoongi x reader

Men are monkeys, babies are puppies, you were set on living as a cool aunt who'd only appear on reunions bearing the coolest gifts. That is until Yoongi made you think otherwise.

Genre: Fluff, talks about marriage, Idol!Yoongi

Word count: 5.3k

----

"I don't wanna get married," you answered firmly without looking at the man who asked. Yoongi knocked on your door at 1 in the morning to hangout. You were on your bed reading a book while he's fiddling on his phone on your couch. Your extra pillow and comforter laid out on the side.

"Why not? You have a job and you live on your own," he asked further, watching you as your eyes read the sentences at the bottom page line by line.

You flipped to the next page and replied, "I can't even look after myself. Add another one in the picture then more in the future... nuh-uh."

"I think it's the opposite. You'll have someone to look after you, cutting that work in half. As for the children, they would be amazing and you'd be a cool mom."

You scrunched your forehead as you tried to concentrate on the sentence you're reading. Something about how humans are social beings and how the same behavior can be observed in chimpanzees.

"I don't wanna share my bed and I like to fart in peace. As for children, even one, would cost me millions. I already spend 5% of my salary on laser treatments, a fortune on my gym membership and diet, I also pay for my parents' vacation. How about my spa days, facials, therapy, shopping spree? What I mean is, I love living this way and I don't want gremlins sucking out all my hard work. I did that to my parents. I'd hate to have another me," you finished, shutting the book as your concentration's diverted to Yoongi's entertainment talk at 1 am.

"Your reasons are ridiculous."

"Because marriage is."

"And money shouldn't be an issue here."

"For a superstar like you, it isn't," you countered.

"It's not. I don't understand why you're against it."

You sighed and placed the book on the bedside table. "Yoongi, I know it's your 1 am thoughts speaking. I can list down reasons from overpopulation to climate change, from recession to farting in peace, from debating where to spend a holiday to letting myself go to bed without washing up. Can we just drop this? Okay marriage is wonderful, for you. For me, it's not. We agree to disagree. I'm sleepy, okay?"

“You just want to continue your disgusting way of life,” he attacked.

“I do. I’m not giving it up.”

Yoongi looked dejected, but you failed to notice that as you turn off your bedside lamp. He huffed and tucked under the covers before reaching for the lamp beside the couch.

During your first few months in Seoul, you were introduced to him by a mutual friend and when that friend learned that Yoongi was looking for a conversation partner, you were set up with him. You became friends eventually as you both learned that aside from the language, you vibed along each other. A year passed by and you still kept in touch. However, he only got busier and busier. Yoongi would show up at your place early in the morning like this and would have breakfast with you after. Your friendship with him is different in a sense that while you go out for dinners and night outs with your other friends and officemates, time with Yoongi would be watching tv together and having breakfast. He would call sometimes for you to join him in a road trip and you would spend an entire day on the road, eating ramen at rest stops. While you go to karaoke with people, you would be singing to the radio in his car. Despite all that, you like it. He's nice, funny, and sometimes scary, but nothing that you couldn't handle.

And that's his thing.

Aside from his members, you were the only one who could handle him.

------

It was already 2 in the morning when you arrived in your building. Your clothes a bit disheveled but still decent, your hair waved down from a bun due to a hair tie you lost somewhere in one of the clubs you hopped in with your friends. You were smiling to yourself when you were stopped on your tracks at the sight of someone standing opposite the door of your apartment, all clothed in black, the hoodie hiding the face.

You sighed in relief when the man looked up and you recognized Yoongi. "You scared me," you told him, your hand clutching your chest.

"Just open the door. I've been waiting for 30 minutes," he muttered under his breath.

You silently went to your door while he kicked himself off against the wall, walking behind you. You slowly typed on the keypad.

"Remember the passcode so you won't have to wait outside next time," you said, turning the knob and swinging the door open.

The light flickered on at the movement. Your eyes immediately caught the half-eaten toast on the table, the avocado browning on top, unrecognizable, if you didn’t remember the breakfast you had this morning. Your clothes and towels were sprawled on the floor and the dining seat.

You swept through the mess while Yoongi turned all the lights of your studio apartment on.

“I was in a hurry this morning, I forgot to clean,” you excused, throwing the clothes on the hamper, flinging the towel on your shoulder, and grabbing the plate to the sink.

You paused at the sight of empty bowls and utensils, all left unwashed. You placed the plate on the counter and headed for the hamper, dumping the towel there.

You found Yoongi, his back on you, and heard a stream of water rush through. You ran to him in a stride, holding his hands. “I’ll do it! Just sit on the couch, I’ll be quick,” you insisted, grabbing the gloves and stopping him from washing the dishes.

He didn’t insist and walked away. After a beat, you heard the air sweeping in the apartment as he opened the window. He wagged your sheets off.

“When was the last time you cleaned?”

“I just changed those last week!”

“Yeah, but your place feels stuffed.”

After a while, you heard your vacuum in a silent whir. You twirled around, seeing Yoongi vacuuming the floor.

“Yoongi. I’ll do it. Just sit,” you complained, feeling a bit embarrassed at the situation he found you. He didn’t reply and just continued cleaning.

“I have a busy week. I’m supposed to clean on Saturday—”

“It’s already Saturday,”

“You know what I mean.”

“You have a small space. You can clean this in 10 minutes.”

“I know. I was just really busy.”

“You can clean this after work.”

“My boss invited us for dinner then my friends called.”

“You could have had househelp or pay for cleaning service.”

“This is a studio apartment and I live alone.”

“Then just get married,”

You dropped the spoon you’re scrubbing and turned to him. Yoongi was crouching down, reaching for the crooks and nooks of your table with the vacuum’s portable nozzle.

“Min. Seriously.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Whatever, grandpa,” you groaned. “I should’ve said yes to that one-night stand with Eric or whoever he is,” you muttered, but in that small space, he heard you loud and clear.

“Y/n!” he yelled, the vacuum still working in a whir, the hood of his jacket falling off, revealing his glowing face. Why did you purchase that damn expensive silent machine?

“What? Next time send me a message when you’re coming over, okay?” you annoyingly replied.

He huffed, “So you could fuck an Eric behind my back?”

At times, his visits would turn into banters, mostly when you both express your different opinions on things. You don’t take it to the heart, but he could get annoying, and you could sense when he’s annoyed too. You know better not to reply as his voice was filled with venom.

---

You were alone in his place at ten in the evening. Yoongi texted you his passcode and asked you to wait for him. He arrived home at midnight, finding you asleep on the sofa with your laptop still turned on. He didn’t bother to wake you up and covered you with a duvet instead. You didn’t even stir as he slipped a pillow under your head.

“Morning,” you greeted as you rounded the counter to watch him cook.

“Sorry. I thought I’d finish early last night,” he said as he flipped the pancake.

You leaned your hip against the counter, your eyes trained on the pan. “It’s okay.”

“Prepare the coffee,” he commanded. You chuckled and walked off, “Good morning to me too. Thank you, self, let’s prepare coffee for Yoongi.”

At the table, you both silently started breakfast. It’s the weekend and you woke up earlier than usual as you’ve heard the rustling in his kitchen. His place is bigger and very well maintained, unlike yours. Well, he has someone cleaning up for him, but you’d rather save that money for yourself.

“Are you moving out of your place?” he asked as he drank from his glass.

You looked up with curiosity, wondering how he knew. You haven’t told anyone.

“I am. How did you know?”

He tilted his head towards the living area and said, “I didn’t mean to, but you left your laptop on last night. It’s opened on a listing.”

You shrugged then shook your head in resignation, “My landlord raised the rent. It’s just outside my budget. Then all the places I found within my price range are a bit far from my work. Although,” you trailed off, turning your full attention on him. You placed down your fork and knife.

“I found this really nice place in digital city, they have a nice wide park at the front, then the sunlight is good, it’s near museums. It’s just a bit over my price range, but not as high as the increased rate of my current place. What do you think?”

“It’s far,” he commented, slicing on his pancake.

“Bus is cheap,” you supplied before munching on the scrambled eggs.

Yoongi swallowed, his brows furrowing, then said, “You have to wake up early.”

“That’s easy.”

Placing his knife and fork down, he asked, “What if you work late at night? You’ll travel an hour on your own taking a taxi? You always finish late,” he ended picking back up the knife and fork again. He watched you intently as he works on another slice.

You pursed your lips, considering the point he’s implying. However, that’s the best deal you could find so far.

“It would be a waste to let it pass though,” you defended.

“Why the hurry?” he asked with a hint of his dialect accent.

“The landlord wants me to move out in a month,” you informed him, your lips turned down and you sighed in exasperation.

“He can’t do that.”

“I know! But someone else is already interested and wants to move in asap. He told me last week,” you said in a pout.

“Then just stay here until you can find a place. I’m sure somewhere nearby would open up soon,” he nonchalantly offered as he continued eating.

You waved your hand, “I can’t do that to you. Thanks for the offer though. Digital city is not a bad place, it’s upscale, though a bit far, but yeah, I like it.”

Yoongi placed his fork down and sternly looked at you, “It’s not sustainable. Imagine going back and forth for a year early in the morning,” he started, his free hand emphasizing his point, “then how much a taxi ride would cost across the city late at night? You’ll get tired. Transportation is expensive too.”

You shrugged and defended, “What can I do then? It is what it is.”

“Just don’t rush. It’s not easy to look for a place. In the meantime, just stay here. It’s the end of the month so move in here as soon as possible so you won’t have to pay for your rent next month.”

You paused and gauged his expression. He seemed serious and genuinely offers you a solution. He has a point. Your lips quivered and your heart exploded in gratitude.

“Yoongi!” you yelled. Then you walked to his side and hugged him by the waist.

“You’re so nice. You didn’t really have to, you know. Are you sure?” you murmured, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. I have a spare bedroom here. I don’t really mind.”

You let him go and grinned, “I’ll move out as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t bother yourself too much about it. Prioritize your work,” he grumbled, stuffing a piece of bacon in his mouth. You beamed at him regardless. You reached for the pitcher and filled his half-empty glass of water.

---

A month passed by and you kind of dwelled into some kind of normalcy living together. It’s nothing much different really. Except that your hangouts and breakfasts occur every day now. You would take turns in cooking and cleaning, making it easier for both of your schedules. Surprisingly, your weekends are pretty much spent apart. You would go to the gym or be out for a run in a whole morning then just camp inside your bedroom for the rest of the day.

You were browsing again for a place and took note of a good prospect. Maybe you’ll give the contact a call tomorrow. Work piled up again, allowing you less time to browse, but finishing a project got you an ample free time to do anything you want for now. The apartment looks neat in the picture and the rate’s good. It made you somehow relieved and hoped that you could move out soon. Although you know Yoongi doesn’t mind, you’re still not comfortable with the idea that you’re staying in his place for free. The grandpa just won’t budge.

The front door beeped and swung open, revealing your friend and current landlord. You sauntered to him, but you were stopped on your tracks when you could smell the alcohol even at a meter’s distance.

You scrunched your nose at the scent, observing his hazed state, “Are you drunk?”

He chuckled, “No. Just buzzed,” he answered, fumbling out of his shoes.

You turned around and headed for the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water. Yoongi followed suit and silently accepted the drink.

He let out a refreshed sigh after he downed the whole glass in one shot. His cheeks are a bit red and his eyes looked sleepy.

You chuckled at the sight and brushed his hair away from his face, cupping his cheeks against your palm. “You should take meds, so you won’t have a headache tomorrow.”

Yoongi hummed, his weight was beginning to rest on you. You ducked away from the smell of his breath.

“You stink. Wash up and sleep already,” you told him, walking out and going back to the living area to continue your search.

His bedroom door fell shut and ten minutes later it swung open again, revealing him in his usual sweater and shorts. He looked more awake now.

You glanced back to your laptop and said, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Just ‘cause.”

He sat beside you, watching what you’re doing. His arms were idly placed on your back.

“You still looking for a place?”

You nodded and hummed.

“Y/n,” he called.

You just hummed back, scrolling down the page. You clicked on one particular result and read the details.

Yoongi sighed beside you, making you look at him. Your eyes met his.

He glanced down to your lips before leaning in. Your eyes fluttered close as he placed a chaste kiss.

You were confused at his action for a bit because you didn’t see it coming at all until the last second. However, Yoongi didn’t give you time to process as he dove in for another, kissing you deeper.

He took your laptop from your lap in one hand and placed it on the coffee table. His hand snaked through your waist, pulling you closer to him. His tongue felt warm and invading. All of your senses fell shut and all you could focus on was his kiss. You parted away, glancing at his half-lidded gaze. Yoongi trailed kisses from your cheeks to the side of your face. You squirmed as he coyly bit your earlobe.

“Yoongi,” your voice came out softly. Your hands were placed on his upper arm and your palms pushed against it, feeling its firmness.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he replied, his voice rasped.

You met his eyes and said, “It’s okay. Really,” you assured him. You were surprised at his sudden display of affection. It made you wonder what pushed him to be that way or maybe it was just the alcohol. He’s a good friend and given his persona, you just thought that he won’t ever see you that way.

Yoongi’s a good guy. He’s a good friend.

But as a lover…

You clenched your fists at even entertaining that thought.

“Y/n,” he called, pulling you out of your turmoil.

His eyes intently glanced into yours. “I’m okay, you’re okay, right?”

You nodded, unsure.

“We’re okay. Nothing has to change,” he muttered.

“Alright,” you replied meekly. Somehow relieved. You looked down as you placed your hands on your lap. Yoongi held you by your wrists and wrapped your arms around him. Your head came into contact against his chest, wafting a hint of his bodywash.

You don’t know how long you’ve stayed in that position. Yoongi laid down later on, taking you with him. Neither of you spoke and just enjoyed each other’s company as you’ve done before hundreds of times, though less the cuddling.

As your eyes fell shut from the way he’s caressing your back and patting your thigh in a rhythmic lullaby, you reminded yourself: nothing has to change.

---

You were sweaty from the body heat hogging your personal space. Your disgust turned into calmness when you found Yoongi sleeping peacefully next to you.

Every time he would come home, he would pester you in your room, stealing your laptop and use it to watch random YouTube videos. You just sigh and hit him with a pillow but would end up laughing with him at some funny compilations until your consciousness ease down and fall asleep. He’s very much making the room you’re using his own bedroom. You didn’t complain and just let him be.

Just then your tummy grumbled, letting out gas. You giggled in embarrassment and saw his forehead in a scrunch, telling you he’s awake.

He moaned and complained, “What kind of garbage did you eat last night?”

You beamed even though he kept his eyes closed, “Good morning!”

“You farted,” he whined, stealing the pillow under your head and covered his face with it.

You laughed and proudly declared, “Be honored. I only fart in front of my brother.”

He took the pillow out of his face and glared at you.

“We kissed. That’s gross.”

Chuckling, you replied, “Well, aside from that.”

---

It was the holidays, but you have nothing to spend it with. You were just really planning to stay at home and rest like you’ve done for the past weekends, but Yoongi managed to drag you back to his hometown. You left at dawn, cruising through the highway at a relaxed pace. You’ve done it a couple of times but being on the road and enjoying the scenery never gets old.

He fondly glanced at you singing along to songs and he would laugh when you rap to Eminem. Most of them were just babbles and broken distinguishable words at each end of the line. When you managed to rap a full half verse, he cheered.

It went off to the chorus and you both sang to it, with you doing the double lines.

“Jagi, you improved now,” he told you, his eyes glinting in amusement. You know your rap is bad, but his comment made you happy.

“Is that a compliment? I’m honored,” you teased, beaming at him. You ignored the endearment that slipped out of his mouth. You noticed he does it often lately, but never called him out on it. Still, his use of endearment and physical affection didn’t change anything.

“No. You still suck at it, ” he replied in a serious face.

And that’s one of the reasons why. He would turn back to his savage self in a blink.

You laid against the headrest, glancing at him. You chuckled when you caught him grinning, his gums showing.

You turned to the back seat and found the dessert you packed safely in place. It’s a courtesy for you to not come to someone else’s house empty-handed. When Yoongi argued that you didn’t have to, you scowled at him and told him to let you be. At the end, he just gave you his do-what-you-want nod.

You were not nervous at all when you met his parents. They were nice and welcoming. If you’ll be meeting the parents of a supposed boyfriend, maybe you have run for the hills now, but it’s Yoongi’s parents. You heard a lot about them, especially his dad. Yoongi impersonates the way he talks and would even quote him.

The time of your arrival was just nice for lunch. You sat beside Yoongi and thanked his mom and dad for allowing you to come over and for the meal they prepared.

In the middle of it, his mom asked, “Y/n, how did you meet our Yoongi?”

She was in contrast of the cold demeanor of his son. Sometimes, you wonder where he got it. “Through a mutual friend, Mrs. Min. I was his conversation partner for some time. Yoongi helped me with the language here a lot.”

At this, his mother looked interested, “How did that work?”

You turned to your friend if he would bother explaining, but he just continued eating, “Yoongi and I just talk about things. We take turns in practicing the language we’re learning. Then we would correct each other.”

His father nodded and his mother let out a knowing, “Ah…”

Then they further asked about your life in your home country, as well as your parents’ thoughts on working abroad and away from them. Basically, you were in a hot seat for a few minutes asking about your family, how you came to Seoul, and your career. It went on until Yoongi interrupted.

“Is this a job interview?” he rudely asked, making his parents pause at their questioning.

You turned to him, abashed, but he was just chuckling. His parents, on the other hand, both pursed their lips and looked at you hesitatingly, wondering if they were being offensive.

“It’s alright. People are usually interested in those things if you come from a different background,” you told them reassuringly.

“I get these questions a lot,” you added. Which is true. You memorized the answers to those frequently asked questions like the back of your hand. You know when to pause to wait for their ooh’s and aah’s, what expression would prompt you to explain further, and even the gestures of your hand.

But since Yoongi ruined the flow of the conversation, you looked around and talked about the interior of the house and how big it is. You started with the collection you noticed.

His father basked in your amusement on the ornaments displayed at the corner, “I chose them myself. I curated this,” he gestured on the wall, “all the way there to that wall,” he joyfully told you, pointing at the intricate shelf divider. The mini sculptures, furniture, and paintings made the space looked like a museum or a president’s office.

Yoongi’s mother frowned at her husband and turned to you, “Yoongi spent a lot on those displays because of his father. I told him it’s too much!”

“Why? It looks nice and they can pass it to their children and grandchildren! The values of these will go up! Don’t you agree, Y/n?”

“I bought some myself too, so they have more to pass on,” his father added, defending himself.

You don’t know how to react amidst their banter that you just looked at Yoongi again. Thankfully, this time, he caught your gaze.

“Did you had my room cleaned? I don’t want to sleep in the guest room,” he diverted.

His mother answered, “Of course! We prepared the guest room too for Y/n.”

Yoongi’s brows scrunched. “You shouldn’t have bothered. We sleep together.”

Your mouth fell agape at his bluntness.

“You sleep together?” his father parroted.

Yoongi simply nodded, “She lives with me. Haven’t I told you?”

Then he mumbled, “I thought I told you over the phone? Ah, maybe that was Jin.”

You laughed meekly and clarified, “It’s only temporary, Mr. and Mrs. Min. Yoongi kindly offered me a spare bedroom in his apartment. I’m moving out maybe in a month? The landlord told me that his tenant’s lease would end soon.”

"You didn't tell me this," Yoongi pointed out, his tone sounding a bit tensed.

You chuckled and lightly replied, "I told you I won't stay for a long time."

"You didn't tell me you have a place already. You should've let me know so I could check on it."

You glanced at his mom then to his dad nervously before going back to him. You're nervous at the way he's acting sore about it. In front of his parents.

You smiled, trying to lighten up the damp atmosphere he caused, "You don't have to, Yoongi."

"I have to, I'll be sleeping there."

Your eyes widened a fraction and you turned to his parents defensively. They're looking as shocked as you, but for a different reason you badly want to correct.

"It's not like that, Mr. and Mrs. Min. We're really just friends."

His mother laughed, though it sounded forced, “We know how kids are these days. No need to explain yourself, Y/n.”

You were about to correct her again when Yoongi placed his spoon down with a thud, startling the three of you. He let out a loud sigh and stood up. “I’ll check up on Holly,” he muttered.

"Yoongi-" you called to stop him from leaving you with his own parents, but he just ignored you and went out.

You pursed your lips and bowed down to his parents in apology. "I'm sorry for his behavior. He's just tired from the long drive." You looked up and threw a timid smile, "I'll talk to him later."

His dad opened his mouth to say something but kept still while glancing at his wife.

"I think you should go after him now. It's okay," he finally said after a beat.

"Ah..." you trailed off, thinking about how to explain. "Just let him be for a few minutes, Mr. Min. He'll come back."

And true to your words, his parents were surprised when their son came back to the table few minutes later in the middle of them asking you about the Korean dishes you like.

Yoongi just silently sat down and took his chopsticks. You looked at him as he browsed the table and you immediately picked a meat for him, placing it on his plate.

"I don't have kimchi," he muttered.

His mother was about to stand up but she stopped when her husband placed a hand on her forearm.

You reached for your own serving and placed it beside him.

"You can have mine."

You turned to his mom as she let out a chuckle.

"I'll get more for you, Y/n."

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Min,"

The whole table was silent even after Mrs. Min went back and placed down new plates of kimchi for everyone. It was only for a while before she cleared her throat and talked.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Y/n?"

"Mom," Yoongi warned.

You lightly answered, "None, Mrs. Min,"

She pursed her lips as if thinking. Her eyes switching between you and her son making her suspicious.

You know how mothers would be against people coming from a different background, so you reassured her again.

"Yoongi and I are really just good friends, Mrs. Min. He invited me here since I have no one to spend the holiday with. I really owe you a lot for allowing me to tag along."

She waved her hand off, “Anything for my precious Yoongi.”

Smile escaped your lips at her endearment.

---

The rest of the weekend holiday was good. His parents took you to a nearby farm while Yoongi basically just tagged along. He left you talking to them and would walk behind. Every time you find it hard to explain or understand things you would turn back and call for him. He would catch up and join in to help, then would lag behind later.

It was already late in the evening when you arrived back in the city. You went straight to your room and washed up for bed, feeling the blues of another work week seep into your consciousness. At the end, your exhaustion from the travel lulled you to sleep.

"Jagi,"

You stirred at the familiar voice. Swaying between sleep and wakefulness, you hummed in reply.

Yoongi whispered your name this time.

You hear a click and warm light flashed against your closed lids. Squinting your eyes open, you found his nervous ones. Yoongi was kneeling on the floor, leveling his head to yours. You pulled back a bit to see his face.

"What?" you groaned at him when he kept staring.

"I..." he trailed off, his eyes unfocused, not knowing where to start.

He closed his eyes in agony and you furrowed your brows in worry. "Is everything alright?"

He looked at you quickly and nodded yes. "Everything's fine. Perfect."

"What time is it?"

"It's 3 am."

You moaned in annoyance, "What the hell, Yoongi? Go back to sleep."

"I haven't. I can't sleep."

You sighed and moved back, away from your side of the bed, giving him space, "Lie down and close your eyes."

He hesitated for a bit but still followed your order.

Once he settled under the sheets, he found you going back to sleep. He muttered your name under his breath.

"Fuck you. I have work at 9 am," you grumbled.

He called for you again.

But this time, you turned your back against him in reply.

Yoongi slipped his arms from behind, spooning you, his fingers clasping against your left hand.

"Yoongi, please, let's sleep," you whined, firmly holding your eyes closed.

He sighed slowly before whispering carefully against your ear, “Marry me?”

Silence.

You could feel his heart beating fast against your back as he waited in anticipation. It was a shot in the dark, literally and figuratively. Yoongi just had this eureka moment when you arrived home. You fell into his life and swirled in the gaps and cracks he barely noticed that was there. He thought he had everything, until you. You were the person he thought he wouldn't mind not having, but seeing how everything clicked into place, the picture became complete. Like the varnish he thought he wouldn’t need on a painting he just finished.

"Fine," you replied, your voice soft and tender. Then you added, "Just let me sleep," you said in a firm tone.

Yoongi let out a relieved sigh. "I sent flight tickets to your parents. Next week. I took care of everything for their visit. My parents will visit the city too," he whispered, careful with the volume of his voice.

You let out a sigh, "I'm telling you if this marriage will be fucked up, I'm leaving."

He groaned in response, "Let fuck fuck with itself," he murmured while he squeezed more into your space, inhaling your scent. Sleep came fast to him as he finally made you agree.