#karma's hair was a PAIN

[nicnsmth1]

MY SUNSET TRIO‼️‼️I did this only cause I wanted a new wallpaper for my laptop💀💀also some timelapse of the lineart

[chocum]

KARMA !

— brat taming the jjk men feat. choso kamo, kento nanami, toji fushiguro.

WARNINGS. femdom!reader, f!reader (she/her), brat taming, cock slaps, crying, handjob, choking, p in v, riding, overstim, lingerie, lollll slotted toji out :33, recording, finger sucking. ( 2k ) note. hellloooooo hope u all enjoy this. i had fun writing bc i loveee the idea of making big strong men crumble mhmhmhm. anywaysss reblogs are appreciated thank youuu love u all. repost bc last night it didn’t show in the tags 💔 but i edited it and added alottt so if you already saw it feel free to read again !! ty

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 CHOSO KAMO

“ma— make m— ooohh fuck. wai—wait” his voice trembled so cutely that it was barely coherent, crumbling into a pretty whine that drowns out his pathetic attempt (if you could even call it that) at being a defiant little brat, making you giggle, your slicked up thumbs pushing and rubbing down on the slit of his leaky tip, sending jolts of pain masked as pleasure up his bony spine, “make you?”

immediately he knows he’s fucked up. the air between you growing thick.

he didn’t know what came over him, really. maybe he had been watching too much porn, fantasizing too much, because the idea of getting tamed by you— god, just the thought of getting put in his place, turned him on so much. so, so much.

but having to actually disobey you, he couldn’t. he believes he was only put on this earth to serve you and please you. to be good. his head hurriedly shakes side to side, making each strand of ravened silky hair jump and dance before resting to frame his flushed face, “‘m sorry didn’t me—”

you land a heavy, hard slap to his cock, the sound pounding in his flushed ears blending with the beat of his heart, making his body tense up and jerk underneath you. his breaths come out in ragged little gasps, each one such a struggle as his fuzzy brain short circuits under your warm palms.

it really is cute, you think. cute how easy it is to break him. the pretty tears that drip down his puffed-up, blushed cheeks remind you of that. he’s choking on his sobs when you move to cup his face and kiss the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks. crying and sniffling because he hates when you’re mad. hates disappointing you.

“‘m sorry, i don’t— just wanna be so good for you. i’ll be— wanna be your good boy.”

“i know,” you coo, petting him like the pretty pet he is, “wanna try again for me, hm?”

and oh, he’s nodding so sweetly, cock throbbing for you, his big glassy eyes heart-shaped, staring up. so ready to be yours, ready to be the good boy you’ve trained him to be.

so you tell him again, “fuck my fists, make yourself cum, pretty boy. and look me in my eyes.”

his hips buck up, the salty tears on his cheeks warming and dried as he uses your sticky hands like a fleshlight, whining prettily when you tighten your grip around him, “‘m sorry” he babbles over and over, drooling out the corners of his parted puffy lips.

he’s so good. staring into the blown pupils of your pretty eyes without fault, like you told him to. because you told him to.

and his thighs burn, his legs shaking and trembling against the silky sheets as he gets closer and closer. the pain almost urging him on, “are you gonna cum for me? baby? gonna give it all to me hm?”

“yes, ple— please. please, can i cum can—”

you pull your hands off him.

drawing out the prettiest whine to ever be heard. like a song of the angels. his head falling back against the wooden headboard, hips bucking up in search of something to ease the ache that overwhelms in his tummy. those hot tears making a special reappearance.

“aww baby,” you hum, feigning sympathy, massaging his warm— full, heavy balls, “did you really think you’d get to cum after that, hm? did you?”

his eyes widen in desperation, disappointment. he tries to speak, to plead, to beg, but all that comes out are broken little sobs and whimpers.

the look on his face is almost pitiful. furrowed brows, pout, and his mouth hangs open.

you bend to lean in closer, your breath so warm against the shell of his sensitive ear, “you have to earn it, baby. good boys get rewarded. brats get punished.”

for you, he nods weakly, his voice barely a whisper as he chokes, “i’ll be so good, pro— promise. please, let me cum. let me show you how good i am”

so pretty. your fingers slip down to massage his aching balls, applying just enough pressure to keep him on that edge he loves to dangle over without giving him the sweet, sweet release he craves. “nuh uh, not yet,” you hum softly, your tone both firm but oh so gentle. “show me how much you want it.”

his hips buck up involuntarily, humping the air in search of your grip— relief, eyes locking onto yours, colored irises filled with adoration. he’s completely at your mercy, every nerve and ending in his body on fire, every muscle tensed up in anticipation.

and you can see the struggle in his eyes. it’s really a beautiful sight, and you savor every moment of it. “that’s it,” mumuring, “keep looking at me like that. show me how much you need it.”

his breaths come in short little, ragged gasps, his chest heaving and caving, thighs burning from fucking the air.

but finally, after what feels like an eternity, you decide to grant him some mercy, your hands moving back around his throbbing cock, stroking him just how he likes it, “cum for me, pretty boy,” you command, a soft, seductive purr. “give it all to me.”

with a strangled, gargled cry, he obeys. his body convulsing, every muscle tightening as he finally, finally finds his release, his cum spilling all over your hands in thick, hot, sticky spurts. and he’s so obedient, his eyes remaining locked on yours, even as his vision blurs and fuzes with pleasure.

“there you go,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “such a good boy.”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 KENTO NANAMI

the tie that usually wrapped snug around the collar of nanami’s shirt adding that signature pop of yellow to his suits now decorates his flushed neck, constricting it, the tail of it clutched tightly in your fists as you ride his cock, your hips rolling and jerking against him relentlessly.

thick cum drips down to his balls, pooling underneath him, a swirl of your mess and his. he’s cum two–no, four? he doesn’t even know how many loads he’s stuffed into your warm cunt— or how many you’ve forced and sucked out of him, his cock so sensitive it fucking hurts, every time you snap back down on him sending poky jolts of overstimulation through his entire body.

“fu—fuck, honey, please. i don’t have— ngh— don’t have anything left to give. fuckin’ drained me already— can’t—”

you tug on the silky fabric, making him choke on his words, gargling on warm, foamy spit. his hands reaching to grab at the curve of your waist, but he’s flinching, remembering how you said, no touching. remembering why he’s in the position in the first place.

because he doesn’t listen.

refused to keep his hands to himself, your body begging to be touched, in his words. as if he didn’t take you seriously, just kept grabbing at you, digging his slim fingers into your plush skin.

so, obviously, there’s some sort of misunderstanding .. some sort of disconnect. he must have forgotten who was in charge.

you don’t even give him a response, ignoring the prickly burn in your thighs to fuck him dumb. maybe then, ironically, he’ll learn how to act. each jerk of your hips move to push him further to the edge, to remind him of his place.

his body is weak, just sitting pretty, twitchy, letting you do as you please, sweetly hiccuping under your frame, “hah— please, my fucking god i— i’m sorry” he’s all gone and sucked up, cock crying, drooling pathetic tears of salty cum in your cruel walls. sweat peppering his forehead, slicking the ridges of his chest, making him glisten.

“please, i’m fucking begging i’ll— hah, won’t disobey you again. i’ll— i’ll be good. i’ll be yours”

aw, there it is.

and you hum, stilling your hips, letting his cock fill you all the way up, “mhm that’s all i needed to hear. now give me onee more load. just one. know you can do it pretty boy, give it to me”

even though his body is spent, just the true definition of exhaustion, he responds, his pretty cock twitching inside you as he drags against his own warm cum in your spongy walls. and it doesn’t take long before he’s giving into you. balls so empty, just a few little spurts drooling out, but it feels just as intense, maybe even more than any of his other orgasms. “good boy”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 TOJI FUSHIGURO

“toj’ my pretty boy” your finger draws across the pink lacy lingerie that does a pathetic job of covering his cock. poking out, leaking and drooling all over the fabric, almost ripping through it with just how hard he is, “you look so good like this”

he grunts, blush growing across his cheeks, a deep, deep crimson, turning his head to avoid your gaze, avoid your phone brightly flashing, recording him.

“so hard too, aw” mumuring, you move closer, recording every detail of how he bulges through the set you so perfectly picked out for him. the pink complementing his tanned skin so well, truly a work of art “touch yourself for me”

another grunt escapes his lips, and he’s fidgeting, dragging his balls against the bed, rutting like a fucking dog, pulling at the ropes that hold and confine him, caging him against himself, “need your ..”

“yeah, need what?” you prompt with a smile, watching through your screen how he struggles to say it, pouting as his brows furrow up.

“need your help”

theres a wicked little glint in your eyes, pulling back at the stretchy band of the pretty underwear, letting go so it snaps back against the sensitive underside of his thick cock, making him whine, his broad body shaking and twitching, muscles clenching up.

humming, you bring your palm to his face, telling him to lick, and he listens, immediately.

licking a long stripe up your warm palm, but oh, he gets carried away. stretching to wrap his scarred lips around your fingers, bobbing his head up and down, drool dripping down from around his pursed lips, letting his tongue lay flat. “look at you, so eager”

he comes off with a pop, smirking because he knows you love when he’s so good like this for you.

you press your slick fingers against his covered perky nipples, watching as he twitched, before moving to stoke him through the pretty lingerie, “don’t fu—fucking tease”

you ignore him, let him get away with the little back talk because he just looks toooo cute, eyes all big, looking up into the flash of the camera, leaking through the lingerie like such a pretty boy. all for you.

you flick your wrist faster, leaning to spit on his clothed cock, sending thousands of shivers up the nerves on his spine, making him croon, his ass raising up off the bed to buck into your palms, giving the camera such a good show.

“gonna cum, shit— i’m so close. fuck— please”

he’s babbling, his voice all high and whiney.

“mhm go ahead, baby”

with a final, desperate thrust, he’s shooting against the fabric, babbling your name as it oozes through making a sticky little mess before you’re leaning down to lap at his clad tip. to clean him up.

then you come off him, stopping the video. and tojis looking up at you through glassy eyes as you press against your phone, smiling.

“what— hah, what are you doing”

“sending it to shiu”

[shotmrmiller]

living in some dingy apartment building because it is all you can afford on your income unless you want to eat danimals yogurt and saltine crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. the stern landlady lives on the first floor, and some neighbors blast music on weekday nights (even if they didn't, the walls are paper-thin. you know more about the cambrian period than you'd like to, thanks to room 105) but it's a modest roof over your head and while the darkened grout lines in the bathroom are permanent, at least there's hot water.

until there isn't. and the landlady has mysteriously gone on vacation for the next two months.

what used to be a cathartic cleansing has now become your torment. every other day is hair wash day which means you're bent over the cold, porcelain edge of your tub, back screaming in protest and pain shooting up your bruised knees even though you've sacrificed one of your very nice pillows to avoid exactly that.

and showering is torture. the icy cold water feels like a thousand tiny claws scraping over your tender scalp, sinking into your trembling shoulders. you don't wait for your body to acclimate, just hastily scrub yourself as clean as you can and hop out, your chattering teeth and shaky breaths echoing through the tiny bathroom.

it's like this for a week and a half, a whole 10 days of suffering with showers so cold it feels like shards of ice biting into your goosepimpled skin when it stops. warmth bleeds into the stream of frostbitten water. finally, it soothes instead of stings. your coiled, tense muscles gradually slacken with relief, with unadulterated bliss. steam rises, the tips of your fingers and toes tingle as if thawing. gratitude wells in the corner of your eyes.

if you had any money you could afford to give, you would to your savior, but every dollar you own is earmarked for the bare essentials. so, with your thick, warm bathrobe cinched around your waist, you pen down a little heartfelt note to stick to the bulletin board downstairs before heading out for work.

thank you, whoever you are, for fixing the boiler. i could kiss you <3

when morning comes, you use one of the dull, golden tacks that previously held a lost pet flyer (sorry, bilbo the hamster, but it's been a year) and pin your note up.

only to come home and find it gone, a torn corner all that remains. maybe it's karma for your callousness towards someone's pet. (justice for bilbo.) you shrug it off, giddily skipping up the steps to wash off the day's stress with hot water.

but before you even hang your keys on the wall, there's a pounding on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its frame. and the masked man you see through the peephole isn't familiar. against your better judgment, you clear your throat before cracking open the door. "yes?"

the piece of paper he's holding in his dinner plate-sized hands seems incredibly small— and it's your note.

"i fixed the water." oh. "'m 'ere for wha' 'm owed." owed?

"i'm not— um. the kiss. it's just a figure of speech." the thick muscle of his bicep coils as he crosses his arms over his barrel chest. he's a very large man, as broad as your door.

if you slammed it closed on him, he'd probably leave it hanging by its hinges. that's not worth a measly kiss.

"okay. but on the cheek since i never specified where so it's dealer's choice."

he huffs out an amused breath but complies, hooking his thumb under the edge to pull up his balaclava just enough to expose his stubbled cheek. he's got a couple of scars; thin, slightly raised. run along the sharp edge of his jaw and disappear beneath the fabric.

he leans close, enough to hear his steady, slow exhales. he smells of dirt. salt. something smoky, tangy-- like on new years, minutes after the clock strikes 12.

your hands cradle his face as you rise to your tippy-toes, wetting your lips and crane your neck-- but he snaps his head to the side,

and takes the kiss he was owed.

(he takes a screwdriver to the ac unit next. wire cutters to the fuse box. nails to your tires. anything that'll inevitably lead you back to him. you tried paying him with dinner but the only thing he was interested in eating was your cunt.)

[yojeongin]

it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l

→husband!mark lee x f!reader | ft. jaehyun + jungwoo

genre: smut, angst, tragic romance, miscommunication, marriage au, 2000s au

synopsis: all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm denial, cum swallowing, jealousy, toxic relationship/love, insecurity, vomiting, work field harassment, mental health deteriorating, self sabotage, smoking, mentions of poor eating habits/self care, pregnancy, mark is a horrible husband. this is for the people who only know toxic and bad relationships, woohoo (...)

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: it's been a year since I last updated the happy together series, I guess I lied when I said the stupid girl incident wouldn't happen with this one but hey it's finally over! this is an epilogue for happy together but can be read as it’s own part. yn’s character here isn’t the same as happy together, this is a completely different yn!! fun fact I came up with this before happy together lol

‘No one wants to think about it. About how your love may run out or hang by a thread because it’s that big, not able to be supported by one person alone. To even have the fleeting negative thought race in your mind. No one wants that.’ — April 25, 2004.

Life was sweet, it was a new romance never felt before (at least in your case). The type to make your heart swell at any sweet action. He was tender, sweet, and attentive. Whatever you asked of him, he’d have for you, ready and in your hands. Mark used to go out of his way for you but slowly the small things became a burden and any little task, he never wanted to do anymore.

Even so, now as you sit on your knees in between his legs, hearing his grunts from the pleasure he is enduring, you put off your own pleasure for his as long as the satisfaction of him feeling loved continues.

With his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark held onto the messy comforter while you kept going. Your nose hitting his pubic bone, staying still for seconds just so he could feel the warmth of your throat around him.

At that feeling Mark allowed a disgruntled moan, loud and perfect. His hips buckle forward, causing you to gag. Tearing up and finger nails softly claw his thighs. That’s the most damage you allowed yourself to cause him. His hand wraps around your hair, the sting of his pulling mirroring the one of your clawing, he was relentless unlike you.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so good, fuck!” He groans, eyes tightly shut. “I love when you gag around me, it feels so good. As if your throat still hasn’t gotten used to me after all these years, pretty girl.”

Raking your nails on the lower back of his thighs, he hisses. With his hands holding onto your head, his thrusts get harder— almost as a counter attack.

The hand you had on his thigh comes in contact with his balls, pinching them where he likes. Playing with and twirling them. Mark’s thrusts become slow but harder, hitting the back of your throat more painful, nothing you wouldn’t take unwillingly, though. He knows you can and will take anything he gives you.

That’s how you knew he was extremely close. When his thrusts were rough and slow, the grip on your hair became tighter when he pushed you further down, becoming extra sensitive to the way you handle his testicles. 

“Ah~ y/n… Please, just a bit more. Ahh…” He pants, stopping his thrusting momentarily until you pinch his scrotum, to which he whimpers loudly. Some sweat had accumulated on his neck and forehead. Glistening, he looked so beautiful, much more than he already is. Mark’s eyes were closed but he could feel your lingering gaze on him. He could feel the penetrating stare that looked at him with adoration.

When he couldn’t handle it furthermore and his thrusts against your throat were becoming sloppy, Mark’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at you, giving you one of his most tender smiles. You never got used to the way he looked at you. Even when he gave you his coldest glares, there was always a sense of adoration to them. 

So one can only imagine the warmth and giddiness you felt when he looked at you this lovingly. Lovingly enough that he removed one hand from your head and placed it on your cheek. Thumb caressing your flesh, soft strokes contradicting the ones abusing your throat.

“What I wouldn’t do to be like this with you forever.” The words contradictory and cheeky to his caring caress, almost conniving. 

Mark’s hips jolted forward, disgruntled moans left his lips but his eyes never left yours. Even after he screwed them shut momentarily from pleasure, he’d always open them to let you know how good he felt. Head thrown back, trying to regain his breath and calmness after the orgasm you had just given him. His hand strokes your head softly whilst you gaze up at him lovingly, your head resting on his thigh. 

“Morning,” your voice snaps him out of it, looking down at you with a smile. “Really good morning.” He chuckles in a breath, leaning down as much to give you a soft and tender kiss, tasting himself on you. Pulling apart, Mark stands up, helping you up from the aching position you were in. Rubbing your knees momentarily to soothe the pang. 

It didn’t take long enough to forget his care and make his path to the kitchen, you trailing behind like a lost puppy, ignoring your ache just to start the day for both of you. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Your soft voice squeaked against his ear, making him turn to you slowly. A gleam of hope on your part as always.

“What is it?” You could see his emotions coursing through, already looking for excuses as always. “Just— can you pick up an order at Cafe 7 Dream? It’s for Venetia’s pregnancy leave party but I don’t have time to pick it up. Please? During your lunch break?”

Your eyes still glimmer with hope knowing well what his answer already is. “Oh… baby, you already know I can’t. I don’t even know where it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, walking past you after giving his famous apologetic pout. 

Back to him, hopeful smile faltering, slowly closing your eyes disappointed but not surprised knowing the predicted outcome. You sigh quietly, basking in the background noise he made. Opening and closing the fridge door and pans moving around the stove top as if he truly had intentions to do something.

“I guess, yeah… it’s fine I’ll figure it out then.” Defeatedly, you make your way to him, watching him play with the knobs as if he didn’t know how a damn stove works, you only interfered when he opened the egg crate. Rushing to him you took it all off his hands, his faux complaining making you roll your eyes, him oblivious to how it wasn’t playful anymore. “Go shower, you’ll be late.” Still, your voice held no annoyance. 

He chuckles, completely oblivious to your feelings as always. “Or we could shower together…” he suggests, not over the morning rendezvous. Wanting more and more, never satiated.  

You didn’t have it in you to smile at him, shaking your head and dismissing him as you crack the eggs over the pan. He giggles, towards the bathroom, placing a playful slap to your ass on his way.

The walls were thin. You could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the water running, and your thoughts bouncing off of them. Torturing you with the words and feelings you try to repress all the time in order to live in peace and in love with him.

You loved him. More than anything, to the point it was extremely painful despite him being yours. You’ve fought hard trying to make your love for him unconditional, there was no backing out anytime.

Moments like these in which he shut down your pleas, all you could do was restrain yourself from the ill thoughts your tired brain tried to throw at him. You couldn’t let anything get in between the both of you, not even yourself. 

So instead you rather stand in front of the stove, moving the spatula around to make him his beloved sunny side up eggs. Funny enough, you hated them but if he wanted you to love them, you would.

Coming out of the bathroom, steam painting the mirrors and windows. Mark dries his hair with the towel sitting atop his shoulders, a sniffle leaves him, pulling the chair from the dining table, smiling at you with a ‘thank you’ rolling off his tongue while you set down his dishes and drink right in front of him. 

“You’re not eating?” He questions the moment you sat beside him with just a pouch of Konjac Jelly. You could only smile and shake your head, suckling on the nozzle to get out the contents. You weren’t eating then and there, you just didn’t want to tell him you were getting breakfast with your colleague on your way to work. 

Mark nodded before digging in on the yolk with his spoon, that expected smile on his face.

He talked and talked after every bite and chew. Mark was well aware of how much you liked to hear his voice, especially in the morning before he left you for work. Head resting on your palm as you watched him stack his plates, a smile plastered on your lips from his presence alone. 

“Want me to drop you off? You’re gonna have to hurry though.” The clanking of the bowls on the sink as he passed water over them knowing you’d wash them eventually; making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting dressed. 

Shaking your head as a response, he waits for your explanation. “I’m walking the entire week, don’t worry about me. Maybe I'll take the bus.”

How couldn’t he when both of your jobs were a tad bit far from home. It didn’t help that most of the time you got out late. At least he was thankful Jungwoo could drop you off whenever he wasn’t able to pick you up or simply didn’t feel like it.

“You know I don’t like it when you ride the bus, it’s always filled with… men at these hours. Take care, okay? Call me once you arrive or if something happens.”

Despite your smile of approval, what was he going to do when he can barely take care of himself?

Mark’s lips fell against yours the moment he opened the door to the apartment, towering over you for a few kisses before pulling away. “By the way, can you pick up my suit from the cleaners either later or tomorrow? I have a meeting at the end of the week.”

He was giddy asking you for a favor, clutching his backpack, ignoring the way you tried to not let your emotions show through your face. “Yeah… I’ll do it after work.” Your soft voice, trying its best to hide that tinge of bubbling vexation.

Mark smiled, a giggle leaving his throat whilst his hand caresses your cheek. “I’ll see you at night, baby.” You couldn’t answer, he had bolted towards the elevator. Only the daily bittersweet taste lingers once again.

Shutting the door behind you, your eyes immediately travel to the pile of dishes he left for you on the sink, not even allowing your sighs to escape by how familiar this scene has become. It was rather frustrating for Mark to not notice your obvious signs of unhappiness with him. He knew you loved him, perhaps more than he loved you, which he tends to ignore to not throw himself off.

But that love he thinks you have was blinding him from all the realities of how dysfunctional the relationship was. It was pitiful that his friends were the only ones to actually notice them.

“Markie, morning!” Johnny’s cheerful voice booms against his ear, hand softly patting the younger man’s shoulder as he signals to follow him and Jaehyun to the break room while handing him a cup of coffee. 

Mark returned the greeting to both of the men standing in front of him, conversing as if he didn’t see them almost daily. From joke after joke, Jaehyun’s phone beeped constantly, the other two ignoring it as he checked it with a giddy smile plastered on his face; Johnny asks if they’d like to get lunch during their break.

Mark immediately agreed to the offer, taking some of the last sips from his coffee. They spoke about restaurant options but upon Jaehyun not answering, rather typing, the blackberry keys louder than his coworkers, the two turned to ask again.

“Jaehyun, you’re down for lunch?” Johnny questions, making his way towards the trash can, depositing away his cup, the eyes on the ‘7’ icon turning to Mark. Jaehyun hums in response, putting his phone away before actually speaking. “Uh, maybe next time. I have something to do.” An apologetic smile, Johnny understanding but Mark lets out a teasing chuckle. 

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

He didn’t want to make it obvious but Jaehyun put enough emphasis on ‘your’. “She asked for a favor and I always say yes, so...” Jaehyun shrugs, sipping the last of his own coffee.

The air was shifting to hostility the more Mark’s expression began to change, slowly but surely. His eyes followed every move Jaehyun made, ignoring how all the 7’s glared at him, even his own. Johnny was no fool, if Jaehyun couldn’t feel the building hostility, Johnny was clearly feeling and seeing it. His eyes advert from both men as he watched how quickly a mood can be annihilated.

“Always? What do you mean, always?” Mark turns his back to the other two —almost to shield himself from the accusatory numbers—, throwing away his not empty cup and going to the sink to wash off the stickiness from the coffee that spilled on the sides.

The second oldest man mustered a shrug, taking a cup from the water cooler and pouring some in to get rid of that coffee taste on his tongue. Bitter coffee taste, the one lacing Mark. “I mean, I can’t say no to her… if she’s busy and can’t run an errand she asks me to run it for her and in return she bakes me a cheesecake. We all win!” Johnny smiles at Jaehyun at the mention of the desert and his unconvincing naivety.

Mark didn’t speak, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the realization that the reason you always baked was not for you or your coworkers but for his friend. For doing something you had originally asked of him. Just in the past month you had baked six cheesecakes and all of them after you asked him for a favor that he turned down. All this time he thought you were just baking for pleasure but now he knows Jaehyun helps ease your stress. Jaehyun, not Mark.

“I’m gonna head back…” Johnny’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, the elder’s eyes adverting from his two younger friends before opening the door. Jaehyun announces that he’ll follow behind, leaving Mark to his own thoughts for just a second.

One could call that the start of his demise. If anything Mark would’ve been better off knowing you did everything on your own but now he felt an unjust slight resentment that you ran to one of his friends. Guilt, if you will, for his own faults.

He didn’t let the thought go the entire day and it didn’t become better once you had arrived back home with groceries and his suit in hand. Worse off, he saw you struggle with the heavy items but he made no effort to help, rather analyzed the components in your hands. Contrary to you, upon seeing him, a warm smile spreads on your face. Putting everything down and going up to him to envelope him in an embrace and a tender kiss.

“Hi…” your breathy voice showing obvious signs of agitation. 

“Hey… why are you so late?” He questions, accusatory for something he’s not sure what he’s looking for yet; a minute frown as he looks through the contents of your grocery totes. Cream cheese, graham cracker, sweet condensed milk… a pit in his stomach formed, a growing feeling of confusion followed.

“Another cheesecake?” He questions, taking out the items and starting to put them away. To say you were taken aback was an understatement, your chest swole and you felt some relief seeing he was actually helping. You nod, holding onto the back of a chair to catch yourself. Mark hums, turning to look at you. Upon seeing how sunken and dull you were looking, his expression turned to one of concern.

“Have you eaten?” Mark asks, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. “Yeah! We had a dinner party for Venetia’s leave.” ‘I told you about it..’ you want to add. No matter, you knew it was futile with how he hums in response. It was true about the dinner part but you hadn’t eaten there, Jungwoo and you had decided to blow it off and go to a soup bowl restaurant instead.

He hums again, putting away all the other groceries and leaving just the cheesecake items. “Seventh cheesecake this month isn’t it?” 

His piqued interest sounded hostile and cold, eradicating any sense of relief that he cared. “Yeah, why not?” Responding with a smile and knitted eyebrows, Mark didn’t add more. In turn, he took his items from the living room to the bedroom, opting to continue working there. 

Looking at the empty spot he left, a sigh left your lips before continuing to fulfill your part of the deal with Jaehyun. You didn’t know if the sigh was from relief or grief. Regardless, his care was too good to be true. 

The next morning he had woken to your spot on the bed empty and cold, a building resentment and loneliness starts to grow when times before he didn’t feel them. Odd. 

Giving himself a few minutes of rest time until he decided to get up and do his daily routine. By the time he had reached the table, his breakfast was covered to keep the warmth in, glowering when he noticed it was slightly warm but getting cold. A note on the side of his dishes. 

‘Decided to head early. Sorry in advance if the food gets cold. Love, y/n’

A small heart next to your name, Mark smiles to himself. As he ate his breakfast, his concerns and the slight jealousy he had gained overnight dissipated. He felt foolish for questioning your relationship with Jaehyun. What was there for him to be jealous of? Hell, Jaehyun was taking care of the burdens he didn’t want to, that’s a win-win situation, no? Jaehyun gets his treat, you remain content, and he isn’t bothered. Yeah, he can now think clearly and see that’s fair. Nothing ever comes out of your close friend being nice and considerate of your wife, right? 

Hmm…

Nevertheless, Mark shakes his head with a goofy content smile whilst he drops his dishes in the sink, passing cold water over them. You picked up his suit yesterday and today it was hanging, freshly steamed furthermore. His shoes clean and shiny by the door, food you cooked for him in his system, and overall a lovely note you wrote him. Mark knows you love him and only him, what a stupid little preoccupation yesterday was.

“Dumbass.” He chuckles to himself, squeezing a plushie he had gotten you that ever since, you left on the bed, your smell on it; you’d always be near him and oh how he loved that security. Surely he has to let you know how he adores your love.

Walking towards your desk to look for whatever piece of paper, he sat on your chair, opening the drawers and searching for at least a sticky note.

Upon finding the nearest notebook, Mark pulled it out along a pen. Opening it to where he could find a clean page; he stumbled on multiple pages of frantic writing and numbers written all over. Sometimes they went down and sometimes they went up, if the number was higher than last, a large ‘x’ crossed it in red. He didn’t think much of it, maybe something to do with work statistics?

Curiosity still got the best of him, he’s never seen you write messily. Everything you’ve written has been tidy and neat, so this was interesting. Flipping through the pages, he found two lists. They read the same thing but the one on the left had more x’s whilst the one on the right had check marks, sometimes nothing.

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

Those were all things you had asked him to do and things he had told you he couldn’t do on account of all the excuses he made. All striked through, ink bolder and fresher the more recent the task was. All those crosses were for him and he figured all the check marks were for Jaehyun.

Some of the stuff seemed too intimate for Jaehyun to do for you. Picking up the cleaners? Fix the leak? Find a car inspector?

Jaehyun had no responsibility to find any of this stuff for you but there he was doing what Mark couldn’t and that jealousy he felt yesterday was back again. That meant you hadn’t picked up his suit yesterday, right? It was Jaehyun who had done so and his grubby hands must’ve left oils for you to steam it again?

God, no… he was being irrational again!

The more he flipped through the pages, Mark read the small and longer paragraphs. Most of them written frantically and showed obvious frustration. It seemed to be completely full of vent paragraphs. You wrote down your desperations and thoughts, often seeming angry and saddened. He cared for all that but they became unreadable the more upset you became as you went on. 

Few things that made his head pound and chest start to rip apart were how many times he read two names over and over: ‘Jungwoo’ and ‘Jaehyun’. You met them through him, he had brought them into your life but now he was finding that to be a mistake. 

Ironic, isn’t it? You spoke so well of them. Every paragraph regarding them was neatly written and cohesive. For the most part you were just thanking them for making your life easier.

‘Keep forgetting to look for new posts, Jungwoo has been helping but he seems kinda down when he does.’

‘Dinner coordinator keeps bringing the same catering and it’s growing tiring, seaweed treats are hell. Thank god Jungwoo took me out instead. — 03.29.08, 22:37.’

Last night’s date. You had told him you ate at the company dinner but instead went out with his friend and didn’t think to tell him, opting to lie about it. He knew you loved him but now he was questioning if the amount was just as big as he thought.

‘Wonder if Jaehyun is getting tired of these favors and cheesecakes. I don’t think he even finishes an entire one in a month and I’ve baked seven for him, I fear for his fridge. It’s not as big as I thought now that he moved. Nevertheless, thank god I can count on him to actually do these favors for me.’ 

The last part stung horribly. It didn’t seem to be a jab on him from how you wrote it but he took it as such given he always did something wrong when you asked him to just so you would stop or he’d make excuses for the same reason. He now took issue with you preferring Jaehyun’s and Jungwoo’s help over his. 

He also hadn’t told you Jaehyun moved apartments so there was no reason for you to know how big his fridge was. It stung more that neither of his friends told him about the close friendship they held with you, his wife. 

The last note on the paper is what caught his attention; ‘Lunch with Jungwoo at Cafe 7 Dream, 12:30 today.’

It’s only 08:35 in the morning as of right now; he got dressed and put away all your stuff trying his best to make it seem like he didn’t rummage through. As he buttoned up his shirt all he could think about was going to said cafe and seeing what it was all about. A part of him told him to stop being stupid, you and Jungwoo were friends too given the company you two work in, so a lunch shouldn’t be bad. But he couldn’t shake off this uncertainty.

His day went monotonously. From the moment he made his way out of the apartment, to his daily drive through the freeway with a clear view of a big ‘7,' not drinking his daily coffee with his colleagues, to now being back in the car, looking at that same ‘7’ he sees daily while he roams for a parking spot.

Whatever was playing on the radio was static and the air around him stuffy, not even the rolled down windows being able to aid him. It was around 12:53 in the afternoon when he had arrived and parked a few spots away from the vast window of the cafe. Bringing down the sun visor, fingers strumming on the steering wheel, and his lips pursed, eyes roaming the area— Mark had spotted you and his friend in the outdoor section. 

His initial jealousy wasn’t present right now, he was mostly focused on the image that had never been presented to him: you were visibly upset. Throughout your six years of being together, you always remained calm and even when he spewed vile things towards you during one-sided arguments you never cracked.

Maybe that’s why you’ve lasted this long. He could say whatever he pleased and kept off his chest while you never gave him a negative reaction. For the most part whenever you didn’t respond in the arguments he’d angrily walk out of the situation to go meet with his friends while he left you to scribble your feelings onto the journal he stumbled upon just today.

Your arms flailed, hands forming into claws that whenever you were spewing something that angered you, clung to your flesh, leaving dents on it— must have been that intense if he could see those forming. Your hair was disheveled but your clothes intact besides the pantyhose you were clawing at earlier. You didn’t look dull anymore but you did look on the brink of angry tears.

In contrast to you, Jungwoo leaned back on his metal chair, hair kept well combed, suit intact and ironed, with a shit eating grin on his face as he nodded with everything you said. His words were slow, helping Mark in reading his lips and only being able to read just that sentence: “Let it all out, you don’t deserve this.” Every time he said those words, you’d slump over the table, head resting on your hands and nodding to yourself.

The perplexed expression on Mark’s face never left. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, leaning in against his wheel as if any of that would help him listen to the conversation. It worsened when Jungwoo took a small box from his pocket, handing it to you in which you’d give him an apologetic smile for ranting to him while also being thankful.

He didn't understand where all this came from. You have always been so calm, never letting things affect you let alone smoke. Hell, you're the reason he stopped smoking but here you were doing what he used to do with his friend.

At this moment he didn’t understand why he had rushedly gotten out of his car and inside the building. All the courage he mustered to go inside dying whenever he saw the both of you stand up from the table after paying.

His heart was palpitating in horror. He couldn’t excuse why he was there this time, he told you he didn’t know where this place was so it would only worsen your already horrible mood. Not to mention, he had nothing to say. How would he start the conversation? “I know I’ve lied to you about this place but what the fuck is your deal with Jungwoo and Jaehyun? What’s your journal all about?” No, he can’t let you know he’s been snooping, let alone have you think he’s jealous.

Mark could only follow behind a group of people walking to the counter, hiding amongst them and hoping you stayed enthralled in your conversation to not notice him. At least he was thankful he could finally hear the conversation but that dissipated the moment he heard Jungwoo’s voice.

“If you keep pushing away and shutting off your frustrations with him this won’t end well. You can’t just conform to keep him with you and let him do all he’s doing. You can’t let him act the way he does and hope he changes without asking. You know what my grandma would say? If you don’t speak, God won’t hear you. And he’s not hearing you. Are you not miserable in the relationship?”

It stung. It painfully stung deeply in his heart that he truly felt he was having a heart attack right now, cardiac arrest— whichever. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Mark says, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ So which is it?” Jungwoo laughs, shrugging. “Seems God can’t make up his mind or he's fucking with us just because he can.”

Sadly for the both of you this was only the start of your demise. As for the following weeks, Mark had begun to dig deeper into this madness he was slowly learning he had created. Every time he was home alone, Mark began to read the notebook he had found. Your writing didn’t become any less incomprehensible but he was starting to learn what certain loops meant.

He wouldn’t say your writings were enjoyable, rather more concerning than anything but this is the closest he’ll get to truly knowing you. It still baffles him that after six years of being together, you were capable of hiding this much from him. The only time he could recall you actually being mad was the time both of you crossed paths with one of his childhood friends.

The atmosphere turned hostile and tense as the older male reprimanded him for not inviting them to his wedding to which Mark said he did, he even gave his mother the invitation directly to give to them. The look the two shared had made your insides churn, in that instance you wanted to cut your own chest to relieve that sting within.

You could handle a lingering look and his friends' questioning remarks whenever speaking to you, but what killed you was that it took him a week to regain his dignity after he bid him goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The words: “They long to see you.” Cascading from his lips, but Mark smiles tenderly and awkwardly.

Mark only recalls you giving him blank stares and taking a while to answer him, conversations non-existent unless he started them. But Jungwoo got to see you tear your desk down, shred paper after paper, and cry in agony at the same time that entire week, knowing well what the older man had meant, you weren’t stupid after all, he’s not the only one who’s read someone’s secret stash of letters. 

That’s the only time he thinks you’ve been mad at him or resentful enough. If only he knew how many fits Jungwoo has experienced and cleaned. But while you might not be foreign to an empty bed, Mark was. When he felt your side of the bed still neatly made and the duvet cold, a sense of fear made him shoot up. 

He had gotten home before you that day once again, trusting that Jungwoo was giving you a ride not long after he arrived like always. After a few hours of working on some data and analysis to the point of not being able to eat the dinner you had woken up early to cook for him. Mark had decided to rest for a while not thinking of taking a nap until his eyelids feel heavy and his slumber commenced.

That was around 6:43pm, now it’s midnight with no signs of you in the bedroom and if he knew anything from those six months of living with a married couple— one of the spouses was up to something.

That’s where his fear rose and his chest started to constrain his breathing. You would never do anything to hurt him, right? Mark knew you loved him. Yes, you love him, you’d never do anything of the style. You're not her.

You're not her...

Opening the bedroom door with such force; he startled you, jumping once the doorknob slammed against the wall. His fears dissipated the instance his eyes laid on your sitting figure. Crouched over your desk with a pen on hand and arm covering the pages of that same notebook. While he was relieved to see you, now he was worried of what else you could add to wreck his nerves.

“When did you get home?” His raspy voice questions. You shrug, taking his presence, closing the notebook and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. 

“Maybe an hour ago? Jungwoo got quite drunk so Jaehyun took a while to pick us up.” 

Mark knew what jealousy felt like, he’s experienced it in the most hateful way and over all these years he trusted you enough to never feel this strongly ever again but his friends were starting to test his patience. It may be subconscious and a self inflicted fear but Mark knows what friends can do. 

“You didn’t say you were going out with Jungwoo.” That pitch of irritation laced his tongue, every word getting louder the more he shook his slumber away. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. He really didn’t want to have any reaction but he can’t reap what he sows.

Mark always started like this when an argument would ensue. You could handle his vile words and reproaches but you had a presentation tomorrow and the last thing you needed was for him to treat you like shit at midnight. You’ve had enough of your supervisor for that. 

“Company dinner meeting, Mark… I told you about the presentations.” Your voice was betraying you with how whiny it came out. But could anyone blame you? You had been ecstatically talking about this for almost a month, even Johnny knew about it. It just seems the man you married couldn’t be bothered enough to remember. 

Mark tried his hardest to pick at his brain and recollect the memories of you telling him. It was of no help that you hadn’t written about it in your journal either. All he had left was to deflect. 

“You could’ve called me to pick you up, though? Why did you have to call Jaehyun?” 

“Would you have gone? You've been sound asleep the while I've been here.”

Your tone took him aback, this was the first time he could hear some attitude and mocking in your voice. He didn’t know whether to be happy that for once you spoke to him like this or angry that the mention of Jaehyun was eliciting this response, almost as if you’re defending him.

Noticing the look of confusion on his face, you retracted any possibility of continuing this ensuing argument. Just like him, you’ll avoid any further action.

“Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

He didn’t listen, just sunk his feet deeper into the tile, processing the whiplash of your actions. On the contrary, you walked past him to the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the stereo system, hoping your nightly ritual would help you not think about these happenings. Him? He’ll sulk like he is not at fault.

‘Oh, I think you’re holding the heart of mine. Squeeze it apart, that's fine…’ The melody mocks and lulls him goodnight. 

A similar situation happened days later. The days building up to that night, you hadn’t asked him for any favors. Times before he’d be glad but now he grew weary. The only outlier was that you weren’t baking, so had the rewards gone further than sweet treats? How far could you go?

No! Stop! Mark knows you’d never do anything like that, you’re not her, that’s a huge reason he fell for and married you. You ar– were perfect.

But then, why haven’t you asked anything of him yet? Was it truly futile now?

Deja vu hit, the bed was cold beside his own spot, your plushie thrown to the floor (the only difference), no sign of you, but the second he swung the door open, there you were. Sitting mindlessly on your desk, scribbling things he couldn’t see but knew he would struggle to understand later. He approached slowly, the only light source the lamp before you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is curious and soft in comparison to last time. You shrug like before, scribbling. “Nothing.” Precise yet somehow cold. No matter how much closer he got, by only a step, you shut the journal, throwing it in your drawer and turning the lamp off. He didn’t know how to take it, your actions swift and nonchalant but regardless you still made the effort to kiss him goodnight on the way to complete your night routine. 

01:48 read the stereo system. Mark hums, this night’s song mocking him again while his eyes look into the darkness and curves of your desk, directly at the drawer that held all your grievances. He contemplates it but it’s no use tonight.

‘I love him so much, it just turns to hate. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake. And someday you will ache like I ache.’ He chuckles, turning it off.

The next day was enough. You had left before him again, no reason as to why either but later he had learnt that Jaehyun had gotten into the office late with a Cafe 7 Dream drink in hand and not bought by Johnny.

He had taken your absence as an opportunity, looking at the positioning of things in your desk carefully to remember how he’d put everything back. Slowly but surely, he took the journal out, opening it to the new pages.

With the journal in hand, he steps into the kitchen, sitting on the dining table where his warm food rested. Warm enough to let him know you left not long ago. Effortlessly, he uncovers it, sliding the plates towards him and standing up to get a drink. The ice-cold water pitcher sat in front of him and he began his tasks.

‘Guilt floods me every time I ask Jaehyun and Jungwoo for favors. Is this excessive? Poor Jaehyun looks so tired, I think I have to ease it. He may claim it’s fine but how much cheesecake or danishes can someone eat without feeling the weight of burden grow as fat around his muscles?’ “What a way with words,” Mark scoffs to himself, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek, his teeth scolding him.

‘Jungwoo on the other hand is probably exhausted from my complaining. I see this as my karma for all the times I told friends to leave their bummy boyfriends. I get it now. This feeling is too strong. I can't just end it, I think… Regardless, I do need to stop with the favors, hell they’re easy so I can do them but it’s nice to not hear them complain or make excuses instantly. That’s selfish of me but I deserve some self indulgence from time to time. No… not at their expense at least...‘

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

He didn’t like that. He’s read enough for the past few weeks but nothing like this. The bummy part even less.

He won’t deny that he wished your food got stuck in his throat and suffocated him so he can drop dead with your journal in hand and true guilt arises in you when you find his body but that’s not him, that’s his jealousy and anger speaking. Maybe he was getting influenced by your entries, this is something you would say just not to him.

Mark scoffs again, sighing heavily, and pushing his chair to get out. He leaves the food uncovered and dishes dirty to complete his morning routine. Despite his anger he puts back your journal not counting on the wet back from the water pitcher but flaws are meant to happen when you’re letting frustration blind you. 

The day went in a blur from then until lunch. Snapped out of his trance by Johnny shaking his shoulder and their manager next to the taller man, Mark gave the two a fish out of the water look. One that made his manager pinch the bridge of his nose but shook it off while Johnny on the other hand gave him a questioning look. The man wasn’t stupid, he could see how distant Mark had been and at most kept to himself despite trying to act like everything is fine and bond with him and Jaehyun, but he’s not that great at covering the heart on his sleeve.

“Here, take the intern with you and ask for the lunch platter at Cafe 7 Dream, the meeting is in less than an hour and we still aren’t prepared.” The manager rushedly spoke, handing him his credit card, the gray hairs on his side seemingly growing with every word he spoke. It was a large investment meeting and he needed to secure this but he had been so careless that their hospitality was a wreck. 

Nevertheless, Mark agreed, the new intern standing behind the other two men that he hadn’t noticed her until she popped out, startling him a bit. She was young and timid, he hadn’t heard her speak but that little jump she caused him made her laugh apologetically. 

That’s the most verbal communication they had through the ride to the cafe. The radio was adamant on playing TVXQ and she enjoyed it while he focused more on the sounds the tires made and the honking from outside. Even when they arrived at the cafe they didn’t speak, if anything their expression said it all. He seemed tired and uninterested while she was indifferent with only polite smiles to her senior.

Crossing the threshold of the first doors, a familiar figure stops in front of him much to the other’s confusion when his indifference turns into a content smile. No matter how frustrated he was with what he had read, an inkling in him will always remind him of the affection he has for you. “Y/n, hi!” He exclaims, turning to you a hand reaching for your shoulder. You’re not too sure how genuine his giddiness is but in the moment for Mark, it’s the most sincere thing ever, more than you have ever been.

It’s not enough to convince you though, with your eyes flitting between him and the intern as he kisses your cheek and the other stands awkwardly behind only flashing you a quick greeting smile before looking around.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice broke the interactions, a hint of annoyance and to an extent accusatory over something that you haven’t voiced, turning to her again before looking back at him. The young girl wasn’t quite sure of how you felt but knew it was a safer bet to go order before their boss called, clenching his ass from how fast time went and he didn’t have things ready.

Clearing her throat, “I’m going to go order… The card?” She extends both hands, Mark takes out their manager’s card and hands it to her who bolts to the register. It doesn’t take Mark long to turn to you, smile slowly faltering, seeing your stare. Unsure if it’s a glare or if that’s how you look at someone when no longer adoring.

“Manager sent us to get something for a meeting.” He brings his smile back, hoping that would help. Yet, you hum and that’s all he gets. It takes a few seconds until your mouth, like a fountain, unexpectedly spouts something. “I’ve asked you to get things for me from here but you always say you don’t know where this place is.” A soft huff leaves you while forcing a smile. You can feel warmth rush from your skull down to your feet. It’s not pleasant, at all, but you can’t lose your cool right now. Not in front of him.

Perhaps if this had happened before reading your entries, Mark would have dismissed it but now he was growing knowledge of your behavioral cues and he can see your hands go behind your back, allowing your nails to cling onto your bare skin.

He musters a sigh and looks at his watch, the meeting was near. “We can talk about this later, pretty girl.” His hand reaches your arm to stop you although he makes sure to not let you know he knows about your little habit.

You shake your head, smiling up at him and going in for a kiss. “No, it’s cool, it’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later at home, okay? Okay.” You didn’t wait for a response and habits don’t die so he found it preferable to drop it. At least he’ll probably read about it in your journal soon and not have you complain in his ear.

Of course you’re not going to be in his ear when you’re on your phone frantically typing something and soon putting it to your own. Seems you’ll be blowing someone else’s ear off and it’s likely the poor loser will be Jungwoo. With every motion, flailing arm, and facial contortion– Mark knew enough of how this little thing made you feel and all he could react with was a grunt.

On weekends, by the time he began to rustle in bed and stretch, he’d be greeted with kisses and tight embraces. They often made him giggle but this weekend was much different. Once again, he woke up with the plush on the floor, a cold bed, and the window closed with only the racket outside the bedroom door. Everything was muffled but if there’s something he identified was the smell of food being made and those two laughs he’s known very well for quite a while now.

With some surprise, he jolts up. His body aches from the lack of stretching but his feet don’t care and drag him out of bed. Opening the door he’s met with Jungwoo and Jaehyun bickering about how heavy the couch was, soon to shift their attention to the movie that had been playing through broadcast TV. On the other hand he turned to look at you taking out things from a cabinet, Jungwoo rushing to help, a screwdriver in hand as he inspected the door– it creaked.

“Morning…” He greets, stretching a bit and hiding his yawn behind his arm. You make way towards him but the other two were quicker, taking his hand and continuing their greeting-shake. By the time you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, your arms around his torso in a hug like they should’ve been when he woke up. Jaehyun and Jungwoo throw each other a glance, one you both miss but that they mask with their teasing towards Mark.

“Morning? It’s nearly two.” Jaehyun begins, “Can you blame him? What does he have to do on a lovely Saturday?” Jungwoo continued but it came out rather bitter despite trying to be playful. Mark manages to laugh just like the rest of you, it doesn’t change the warning look you throw at Jungwoo who ignores it while removing the cabinet door, showing more chipped parts to it.

“Can you help me find something, then?” Mark dismisses the other two, looking directly down at you. Without hesitating you nod, walking to the room with him, your grasp on his torso not falling, rewarded with a tender smile of his. Unbeknownst to you two, the other pair give each other a glance again, although this time it lingers on each other. Disappointment and exhaustion painting itself on their features before going back to the favors.

The wooden door shut behind you two, Mark makes way to the restroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, leaving you situated on the bed and confused. “What are we looking for?” You question with some excitement as if this was a task you truly wanted when making him happy was enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” He finally speaks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair strands damp. “They’re just fixing some stuff.” You ease softly, smiling up at him as he stares at you. 

His hand perched on your shoulders, pushing you down on the mattress and met with a surprised squeaking giggle that he shut immediately with a kiss. Those same hands wrapped around your body pulling you flush against him as his tongue works against your own.

Lips became slick by the moment but he felt so much pour into that kiss. So much longing and desire. A mixture of lust and guilt and that balance may be why he felt the need to keep you here in this room with him and not out there with those vultures.

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

His hands began a journey down your body, feeling every curve until they rested on your hips. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts, teasing their entrance under. It was enough for you to gasp quietly, feeling his cold damp fingers while he kissed you, smiling into it. He swallowed every word and protest before you could even spew them. 

Your own hands on his hair, lips submissive to his. A moan when you feel his digits fully in between your legs. You shake your head but not in protest but rather of how much you needed his touch. “Say something…” He whispers against your lips, no smile on his face. “Please…” You beg, his fingers making slow circles to not hurt you but enough to get you to lubricate and use that instead.

The scene was greedy and lustful but ultimately, he was reminded of those two out there and the reason as to why they were present lingered. Was the couch and cabinet door that important that you had to call the little crew? No matter how displayed you are for him, with your hands holding onto him, lips kissing his own, and legs open for his own disposition– Mark was still aggravated.

Softly he pulled away from you, caressing your face with his free hand while his fingers went to work. “Why didn’t you ask me to help instead of them?” He tries to seem soft spoken like his caresses but those become rougher the more he speaks. “Would you have done it?” There he knew how much little faith you had on him and the scene from a while back repeats.

“I’d go to the end of the world for you, Y/n.” Mark confesses into the kiss, neither of you too sure how truthful that was. His fingers make their entrance into you, slowly moving to elicit a response. Your body ran hot, his clothed figure above you, silently begging for you to at least believe a fraction of what he said. Those pleading and mopping eyes as he pumped his ring and middle finger, increasing the pace.

You believe me like a God,

‘You’re being so cruel.’ You want to tell him, to engrave it in his brain but it instead came out as a pleased disgruntled moan, one he took as accepting his lies. Mark smiles, head tilting to the side before lowering it to begin kissing your chest. Tongue lapping on the dents your collarbones create, whispering his ailments in them to the point of flooding and creating lakes that flowed down to your perked nipples after unbuttoning your blouse. His tongue, scorching and velvet against them. Granted was a jolt and a gasp when you felt his mouth wrap around one, biting softly to soon suction on the tit.

I’ll destroy you like I am.

Teeth grace your goosebump filled skin, kissing where his teeth left razor marks. Threatening crimson to spill only to be a false alarm, lingering pain and pleasure was all that was intended to reside. His fingers slowed the pace, blunt thrusts per second that left an ache between your legs when his palm came in contact with your outer skin, but oh how good it felt when his fingers hit your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that by this point he had inserted a third finger, the stretch causing so much more need within you.

His mouth travels up the path he created after years of savoring your body. Tongue feeding the dried stream, cool when its source disappeared to carve marks on your neck. It was so juvenile but he wanted you to go out of that room with some swelling for those two to see. Eliciting another moan from you, Mark’s free hand softly comes up to your mouth, covering and sealing it with shushes against your ear.

“Do you want them to know what we’re doing?” He whispers in the same location, you shake your head fervently, feeling hazy and growing even more needy. “Good girl.” He grins, removing his hand to hold your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. His teeth gracing your lower lip, softly nipping it to soon ease the pain he’s caused with his tongue– as he always does.

His fingers kept working their magic between your legs despite the constriction of your shorts, his wedding band no longer feeling cold inside of you but the fact that he didn’t think about removing it made you feel more aroused. To feel that metal piece unite you besides legality but through flesh and body.

Mark must have felt your growing arousal, especially with how much easier it was to ease his fingers within you. The clamping of your walls, more of a clue. In this instance he wanted to be cruel, and he attempted so. His hand stopped moving, rapidly getting out of your shorts and causing a desperate groan to leave your lips, legs quivering from the abrupt halt.

Just as he was going to cause a drought to the land of your skin and mouth, your hands took a hold of his body. Wrapping around his shoulders to hold him near, causing him to stumble slightly but not to topple over you; able to hold himself up. He won’t deny that knocked the wind out of him to a degree, feeling like in any instant he could have crushed you but pride and satisfaction soon filled him.

“Please, Mark… let’s finish at least.” You beg, your voice drunk off of his touch and whiny from how long it had been since you received anything from him. “Yeah? You want that?” He questions, making fun of you with that smug grin on his face, remaining features feigning compassion. He smiles at your desperate nod, mimicking the motion when he laughs quietly, kissing you again. 

Swallowing every single one of your silent moans that he told you to keep quiet to not let those two outside know what he was doing to you. Thing is, he did want them to know, he wanted them to see how fucked you will look once he is done with you. He wants them to see how your legs spasm when trying to walk and see how marked and irritated your neck is. He’s simply making fun of you right now and you’re falling for it because you will be anything he wants. Even a fool.

His hand slowly slides off your shorts and panties, caressing your warm legs in the process. His once calloused fingers from his creative days that he left behind now soft and tender. You held his face in between your own hands, making sure he never kept too much distance between your lips, that fresh taste of mint still lingers on his tongue.

“But do you deserve it?” Mark immediately stops his caressing and kissing, the words echoing in the cavern of your mouth, you swallow them. His gaze is cold but curious, scanning your own for a response, a witty one.

In this instance he tries to remove his touch from you, your grip on him despite how his knee teases its clothed friction against your exposed and destitute clit. He had been denying you an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, depriving the other two from knowing what was going on but Mark didn’t care, he was luxuriating in this.

“You’re being so cruel.” You finally say the words that had been covering the walls of your brain and heart. Needy yet angry tears prickling the corner of your closed eyes. It wasn’t just lust but the fact that he was playing dirty when you’re so vulnerable and in dire need of getting something from him. For once.

“You think so?” His knee stops, eyebrow quirking, shit-eating grin falling. You nod, a pout forming, making things worse. ‘Did you really have to cry now?’ He asks himself, huffing as he shakes his head, pulling down his sleeping shorts.

“You jump to conclusions so quickly, it's always such a shame.” He doesn’t dare look directly at your face as he speaks this, knowing that the constraint and squeeze of your heart was showing. No, instead you’re met with the warm feeling of his spit falling off his tongue onto your cunt, some on the tip of his cock.

To be given something forced you to shut your eyes, a moan of relief enclosed within the four walls of the bedroom you shared with him. It became louder when you felt the intrusion of his dick within your walls, his mouth covering yours to drown those sounds. He likes to cherish these sounds for his own entertainment.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to him, the girth feeling foreign despite how familiar you are with every inch and crevice of his body. Slowly, he picks up the pace, raising your leg to prop it beside him. “See how things turn out when you’re patient?” He asks, searching for your eyes but they’re shut.

The most he gains are pleasured moans in the crook of his neck. Mark can’t figure out how satisfied he is with that answer, so his hand opts to slap the inside of thigh, causing you to whine but reward it with kisses to his neck.

To be fair you didn’t think this could last long. Not when you abstain from self gratification, knowing that only he can bring you to an orgasm and given it’s been a while since you two slept together, an orgasm was long overdue. The friction of his pelvis on your clit while he thrusted was not helping. Just feeling that extra sense of overstimulation while his shaft filled every nook and cranny of your cunt, feeling his length bulge in your stomach.

Holding your body to his, your face buried in his neck begging him to please let you come. The hand beneath you pushing you flush against his own body. If it wasn’t for his shirt as of now, he’d be more vocal with how well you’re both feeling his cock go in and out of you. For now he’s relying on his sweet words, worshiping how well you’re taking him.

Specifically: “Feel how perfectly you were meant for me, pretty girl?” He grabs your hand holding his shoulder, pressing it against your stomach and for some reason that makes you feel like you could come any second now, begging him silently to let you. To please grant you this one thing.

“Fuck, Mark… just give me this, please…” You cry out, eyes screwed shut, lashes wet from pained and pleasured tears. You felt it in your core, you felt how bad your body clamored for some release.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks, his own words struggling to come out unlike the pre-come lining your walls. “As much as you.” You claim, fingernails clinging to his skin, a shallow groan leaving him. He likes to know how much you need him and if you were going to the lengths of hurting him to leave your message, so be it.

With every thrust, your nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. Whether he was picking up masochism or basked in the pleasure of the sadism he inflicted, Mark felt it. He felt how he gave out before you. Spurts of come followed with desperate deep moans that you swallowed in dire need of your own release.

But he was cruel. Very fucking cruel that the second that he stopped spasming and decorating your walls, his actions halt. For a few seconds he holds his position, head on your chest trying to relax his body full of adrenaline. If he was to look at you, he knew your face would beg him for your own release.

After a minute or two he pulls away slowly, taking his shirt off and reaching for the wipes inside his night stand. He warms them with his breath, moving them around to disperse the heat, only to lay them flat between your legs to clean off anything that fell out (although not much), propping your legs up and laying some pillows behind your back so you could rest for now.

Tongue poking his cheek before sighing and turning his back to you. “That’s cruel.” He didn’t say anything furthermore, his voice harsh and cold. Locking the bathroom door behind him and leaving you sprawled on the bed, arousal immediately terminated and the only feeling was of regret for saying what you did and letting things go this far. You couldn’t cry either, the other two would probably cut you off this time for good. So you’ll deny your body from letting out its emotions again. Afterall, Mark has made you be so resilient in that aspect.

Jungwoo’s and Jaehyun’s tasks were complete by the time Mark had gotten out of the shower, lunch too. The entire time underwater he spent it beating himself for the decisions he’s made to let things go this way. A month ago he was content thinking his wife loved him despite his flaws but Jaehyun’s big mouth made him unravel slowly that he was doing more harm than building an eternal home. Mark was resentful, he’s not going to deny that. He hated how quickly theatrics and how easy things he saw as fine can fall.

It stung more that you were laughing uncontrollably with the other two, seemingly neither had anything to mention of the marks on your neck or the completely different outfit you have in comparison to the shorts and blouse from earlier. Hell, Jaehyun is sitting in his chair rubbing salt on the wound and you are not saying anything upon noticing Mark; it sucked the life out of him. A slug in a bath of salt.

“Sit, I’ll fix your plate.” You smile at him as if nothing had happened in the four walls of the bedroom, your conformity noticeable. By this point he had taken the cold seat he was unfamiliar with. Sitting across from you was not something he was accustomed to, not in his own home at least, but here he was, watching two men who actually do drop everything for you. Two men that were his friends first, cracking jokes just to make you smile and laugh at which you did, enough to hunch over, something you haven't done with him in a while. 

Mark had blocked out the conversation completely, watching your moves and theirs. Your facial expressions and where your hands landed from time to time. That deafness fell when you placed the plate before him. The presentation made it obvious that others had gotten to your food before him. The mixture of ingredients painting the canvas of his plate faster than prior times when he was the first to cut through the masterpiece of your dishes. This time it was tampered and by the looks of Jaehyun’s still neatly moved around plate, he was the one to break through first.

Throughout lunch Mark tried his best to not speak, only replying when spoken to or agreeing in some sense. Things got worse when your cell phone kept buzzing and buzzing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter that made the other two give each other a glance, this time, not gone unnoticed by him and piquing his interest further.

The incessant buzzing continues, enough that Jungwoo sighs before lolling his head to give you a weird look. “Is it that dick?”  

‘Oh?’ Mark thinks to himself, an eyebrow raising as he begins to chew slower. Your glare towards Jungwoo to hush him is futile when Jaehyun joins. “Haven’t you told him to stop bothering you after work?” He sounded angry, the type of rage Mark should have, not Jaehyun. In his mind: Jealousy and that made his feelings worse.

How selfish.

“What dick? What are you guys on about?” Mark was so annoyed and frustrated at this point that venom laced every single one of his words, spraying it as he flayed his hands. Your silence made it worse, more painful was that you did so while Jaehyun and Jungwoo took it upon themselves to explain. The two, immensely tired of you not saying anything, of not speaking up.

Jungwoo goes first, he knows, they work together for Christ’s sake. “What’s his name? Ah, whatever… Y/n’s floor colleague has been bothering her for a while, you should know.” He frustratedly shakes his head, fork digging into his plate without noticing the look Mark throws at you. “Yeah…” He mutters, eyes never leaving you, all knowing he’s lying and upset.

“You should really report him, Y/n-ie.” Jaehyun breaks through, forcing Mark’s neck to snap and look at him. He was just making things worse because all Mark could feel was his lunch rapidly collecting in his throat. Cutlery dropping from his hands.

‘Y/n-ie’?! What an insolent fuck! That’s what Mark thought of Jaehyun. How dare he use a diminutive for you? Who the fuck did he think he was? Not even he, Mark, your husband called you that. What a fucking asshole.

How selfish.

A coward too, he wouldn’t know how to react either way. Instead he revels in your words as a distraction. “My boss seems to like him a lot. The only one getting in trouble would be me.” You sigh, fork moving food around. Mark looked between you and your actions, you noticed him, that you took a few bites to make him stop.

“Why don’t you apply to where we work?” He suggests, chewing what was on his fork, now using it to point between him and Jaehyun. Foolish to not grasp yet how that would mean seeing Jaehyun more and having it rub in his face that even under the same roof you’ll run to him for favors.

You liked the idea, it was easy to notice how much you perked up at the fact that he suggested being together 24/7 no matter the different departments.

Jungwoo had other plans, “Then you’d leave me alone.” He pouts childishly. On other occasions he’d laugh too and call him cute but he doesn’t think he can see Jungwoo as fondly as before. “Move to my floor instead.” He continues to test the waters but is met with a kind giggle and shrug from you.

The afternoon transpired with finishing lunch. Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning the dishes while Jungwoo the pots. Mark on the other hand sat on the couch, eyes often stealing glances on how you interacted with the other two. If you tried to clean, they’d reject the idea and tell you to just go sit and do what Mark is doing: nothing; an obvious jab. 

Ending their visit with discussing the kick-back Johnny was hosting at his place in a few weeks. Something about the Champions or US Open? You’re not sure. You were growing more worried about Mark, that you ended up telling whoever to just text you the deets. They smiled with a nod… and a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye while waving to Mark who perked at the scene. He felt his eyes warm and heavy. Not sure if they were tears beginning to form from jealousy or insecurity. 

You throw him an acknowledging smile while making your way to the bedroom. He stood up, leaving the TV on to follow behind. Before you could open the closet door to fetch something to sleep in, you feel his arms wrap around you. There was desperation to his grab, his hold was rough. Your back hit his chest, feeling his exasperated breath on your neck. Soft kisses at first but nipping soon after to leave his name all over you again, claiming you since it seemed like the others weren’t being repelled.

“Mark?…” You call out, his hands knead your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?… Why did you keep–” ‘everything’ he wanted to say, “that from me?” 

“Come on–” you intend to plead but he’s not letting it go. “Why?!” He asks exasperatedly against your face while he leaves wet kisses on the skin, pleadingly. “I didn’t want to burden you.” You confess, a whine at the harsh grasp.

“You’re my wife! I need to know these types of things, Y/n. You can’t just keep things from me, how can we be good to– how can it be good for us?” He exclaims; angry and wailing all at once.

‘How can we be good together like this?’ He wanted to say, biting his tongue to not tell truths while sober. Mark didn’t know what it was, but it hurt. He had been thinking about this for weeks. How to ask you overall about the things you’ve hidden from him but now that he has the chance to bring it up, he can’t help but feel resentful and pained. 

Why did you trust Jaehyun and Jungwoo more than him? He’s your husband.

He expected that once married, loyalty would be granted to him no matter what, one way or another. Just like she had granted it to Donghyuck despite how flawed their marital logic was.

Sure, he made things worse but would the universe be cruel enough for him to be in Hyuck’s shoes years later? He deserved it, he knew, something at least, but that ill side of him– what he had learned from her plagues him and demands you to love him unconditionally. To do things on your own without the help of others even when he’s the one to deny you any aid, when he’s at fault.

Mark is miserable and he expects you to be so too… even more than you already are.

Misery loves company.

His hands stopped their harsh kneading, turning you around to look at him. His tired and weary eyes looked straight into yours. But while he felt resentful and confused, you felt odd. Why was he acting like he cared all of the sudden? It was strange and while you appreciated it to an extent, you also hated it.

You weren’t used to it at least, and you weren’t sure if this act would last. You don’t want to admit it but that voice hidden in the vault of your heart loathes him more than anything.

“Okay…” You nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you things more often, yeah?” 

“Please…”

You nod and he nods, pleadingly; he’s not content and neither are you. 

After that discussion, the day transpired as if nothing had happened. He had returned to the living room leaving you to do whatever while he kept his distance. Only answering with hums and nods whenever you come out of the room.

Did you mind? No, it was so normalized it didn’t make you angry anymore. You actually felt like things were back to normal and this was sufficient enough. Mark on the other hand tried everything to ignore how he felt or regulate those emotions since he wasn’t too sure who he was mad with. 

By the time he had figured he was over it, you had fallen asleep alone like all those times he did weeks prior. A warmth filled his chest at the thought. An inkling telling him to wake up before you do the following day just to leave that dissatisfaction you had left in him, not accounting with how disappointed you were with him already that it wouldn’t affect you in the slightest.

He wouldn’t do it, though. Not because he cared enough, but because he wasn’t planning on waking up early to be petty. What he will do is go back to the living room and let his fingers roam like Thing until those crumpled and messy pages sat on his lap and he laid on the couch, stereo system on.

Instantly he’s met with those familiar sharp corners and loops. Numbers, increasing and decreasing significantly. The larger ones bold from rage, the decreasing one's neatly written with smiley faces next to them. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant but he surely enjoyed the recipes you kept adding to the journal and the doodles of how they turned out. Although, he felt that they lacked so much substance.

All of these felt either welcoming or asked that he be eradicated from this earth for the way he’s breaching your privacy, acting like an over controlling strict father despite being your husband. Almost like his dad, but don’t tell him that or he’ll throw a fit. For having lived so many lives, he's surely turning into the worst version of himself.

Through more flipping to see if he missed anything, he came across some interesting notes. All which made his stomach churn and that pride he would once feel, turned to– well, some type of disgust and concern…

‘I’ll do anything for him but every day I’m going insane with tense trials. It’s fine. If I have to go insane to stay with him I will.’

Mark sighs heavily, hands covering his face to soon slide off hoping his flesh would fall with them, groaning to himself.

Fuck, he loved you. In a fucked up way he did but how much could he endure knowing things aren’t fine and dandy? Sure, his first instinct is to try and fix things but there’s also that part that won’t let him strive for any change and it’s winning.

Change hasn’t been the kindest to him in the past. Hell, it’s the reason he’s morphed into what he is now but you accept him this way. That’s what the incessant and pestering part of him told him to let things be and just act like he doesn’t know what you truly are.

He should be glad, no? To know that you love him so much that it’s killing you. Yet, he isn’t. He’s not sure why, maybe because of his deep buried true morality but he has also grown to be selfish and he wants to relish in the glory of your love until you hit a breaking point.

For once he doesn’t want to be a Bernal character and it seems this is where he is slowly breaking that pattern— albeit, he is not enjoying it either. 

Perhaps it was the hour, his growing resentment, anger, and hurt, or he was overstimulated that caused the music in the background to tremble and clog his ears the longer he kept reading. Lists upon lists of things you had to do at work followed by entries on how much longer your hours would run every instance you paid no mind to that dick that the guys described.

Countless entries of your boss calling your attention after that asshole complains. Instances in which, despite how many pictures of Mark you put up in your cubicle, he makes an effort to make them disappear any time you’re not near. On company dinners, Jungwoo and you make it your life’s mission to slither away from the crowd– to be seen but not noticed, enough to not be reprimanded when you’re miles away from danger.

‘Jungwoo mentions in passing every opening in his floor as an incentive to ask for a transfer. Going as far as getting letters of assistance to request my temporary time in the department. Hours to days, they have been great but not everything lasts. With just one foot back inside in my department, the entire mood shifts and it’s back to reality.’

Mark doesn’t understand why his chest aches every time he reads your journal. Perhaps there’s a moderate amount of empathy but he also feels hurt knowing you’re hiding so much from him.

Years worth of things and even if you don’t say it, you make it known you hate the person he is. Mark is sure that if you weren't attached to him like you are, you’d loathe him the way you loathe everyone who has wronged you. He wonders how long it will be until your love runs out and he will finally become one of them.

He shouldn’t expect it but if it happened with Donghyuck who promised to never leave him, of course it can happen with you who he has wronged just as bad as his brother, even if you do everything in your power to prove him wrong. Mark tends to bite the hand that feeds him, if he gnaws for far too long, surely there will be consequences.

03:46, a warm night in 2008… Aggravated and nauseous from making your suffering about himself, Mark dictates that it was enough meddling for the day. Tiresome and bleary-eyed, head thumping achingly with the music debilitating him; Mark stands up frustratedly to turn off Sinead O’Connor angrily screaming ‘you’re a liar’ over and over making him forget about the journal on his lap.

The vegan leather taunts him with its loud thump against the floor, screeching as he picks it up but in the process he drops some notes. “Fuck me!” He curses frantically, knowing you’ll definitely know he’s been snooping when none of these end up where you originally placed them. He starts to panic, he feels his heart race dangerously, his aching head is now spinning, flipping through pages to see where he can put these in, yet in the process he stops.

“Don’t beat yourself up because of him. I’ll always be on your corner and so will Jungwoo. I love you, y/n. – Jaehyunie ♡”

I love you, y/n… Not ‘we love you’ but ‘I. I love you’.

Mark’s blood runs cold, his eyes bulge. In that moment he feels his chest and heart compress, squeezing the life out of him.

This is what Mark’s fears came to. He worried so much about your unconditional love becoming conditional, that the universe allowed him to see the incriminating clue that told him that sooner than later that was to happen. Right?

 ‘Dinner on me today! NO buts! Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?! XOXO — Snoops XD.’

The pitch black ink taunts him, questioning how recent or how old these must be. The handwriting felt juvenile with every smooth corner and small bottoms. The top of every letter felt bubbly and messy when connecting. Jaehyun’s could still be neat when messy and for some reason that bothered Mark more.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the papers were crumpling between his shaky fingers. As shaky as his breath restraining whatever he was feeling. ‘Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?’ Mark repeats to himself that same question for a hundred more times, each making him more angry. ‘Who else but her husband? Me!’ He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. Drill it in the minds of everyone in your shared circle. He was capable of taking care of you!

But being capable doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t nor put effort into doing so.

No, Mark didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to jump into conclusions of infidelity or anything down that rabbit hole. He knew you wouldn’t do it. He wants to think that, he wants to believe it. You’re literally ruining yourself for him, so why would you do all that to throw it all away? Regardless, he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. 

He also once thought him and Hyuck would be in each other’s lives until they died. It later turned into him believing Hyuck would fade into the shadows of this earth and not ever see him because she would be his, choosing him, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was the opposite. He also didn’t become the renowned artist he was in his college years with a list full of connections that left him when he fell from grace. 

He didn’t end up thriving in the studio where he was meant to start over and is now in a dead-end design engineering job because of his father and his connections, not Mark’s. Did he know anything about it going in? He knew the word design but oh god how far can connections go if he landed something like that.

Even you, he met you because of his father, and the bells of the life he avoided for years rang incessantly letting him know no one can run from their faith. No matter how hard they try.

It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t in Hyuck’s shoes, it only mattered that he now knew how much pain Hyuck was going through seeing his wife rejoice in the care and love of men he considered friends. That and the fact that he was making your unraveling all about himself, at least they can share that too.

He couldn’t understand how you acted so peaceful and put together when during lunch he’d visit the cafes you frequented with Jungwoo and found you the same as the first time. Exasperated, vexed, and angry with a cigarette between your fingers when you two were to leave.

A chuckle on his lips remembering all the times you pestered him to quit smoking because you wanted him for many years to come. Now he’s not sure if you want to be with him as much, no matter how many times you write about it.

“You’re still a liar, you’re still a liar, you’re still a liar!”

Monday rolled around in which Mark swore to not allow Jungwoo another lunch date with you. Furthering his selfishness and restricting your moments of relief so he could take that time up. You wouldn't mind, right? It’s him after all…

It goes to say that when he stepped through the ample threshold of your floor with a cute little bag in his hand and some drinks in the other, that confusion crossed your mind before that thought was pushed back by adoration. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a warm smile. You felt like a child whose parents never showed up for any activities but this one. That childish glee and relief of knowing that you are loved. “Can’t pay my wife a visit?” Mark retaliates with a cheeky smile, leaning in to give you a short but sweet kiss.

You want to say it felt like when you first began dating. So sweet, tender, and soft. How he was before you married and his facade fell, showing how dependent he was. His small acts of love come through.

You want to believe it so bad that you’re willing to push back the tiny voice in your head trying to force you to question what he wanted out of you if he was willing to visit you this far.

“Well yeah,” You giggle in an effort to leave your desk. “Come, let’s go to the rooftop.” Your hand takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him along until that incessant blob of human flesh presents itself right in front of you both, blocking the way. 

“Well look at that. Your husband, right? Didn’t think you’d like the soft ones…” A mocking grin slapped on his face, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t much taller than Mark but he sure was confident to take a step closer to you both. Mark opts to carry all bags in one hand, twisting his wrist to hold your hand rather than you him.

You sigh, looking for ways to respond but Mark doesn’t give you time, walking around him with you in front, ignoring any calls from him to go back for a conversation. Such an insufferable man, Mark was aware but to you, this moment, you were still treating it like one of your earlier dates. His attentiveness and courage of protecting you. You missed that Mark and any resentment from marrying him faded for now.

“That’s him?” Mark breaks the silence, the walk to the rooftop consisting of him complaining from these few seconds they met. If he thought this much from only that timeframe, you wonder how long he would have lasted in your shoes. 

You responded to his complaints with nods and hums, taking a seat across from him on the bistro table. He laid back on the chair relaxed, if it wasn’t for his babbling one would think he wasn’t really affected.

“And, I mean, he’s such a dick.” He groans, sitting up straight, his roll of eyes halting upon noticing you pick at one half of the sandwich. 

Mayo wiped off, pickles on the bundle of used napkins, the turkey they touched on top of them, chunks of old avocado added to the tower. “What are you doing? Why are you picking at your food all of the sudden?” He leans against the table, elbows on the glass to be closer to you. In that instance, you stop your actions, looking at him through lashes before raising your head.

“Mark, I don't like these. I thought you knew by now…”

Fuck.

“No, yeah, I know. I’m sorry…” His hand leaves his chin, stretching it to hold yours. “Sorry, I forgot to check the order at the cafe, I didn’t want traffic to get me.” You smile at him, he smiles at you. You know he’s lying but it’s the thought that counts. “Plus, I think I came at the perfect time. Imagine I had come later and he had bothered you more?” His fingers squeeze yours, a little too hard if you say so. 

He’s received with a shrug. “He’s a dick, like you said.” You giggle softly, pulling your hand away to wipe them with another napkin. “He doesn’t react like that with Jaehyun, though. Does everything to avoid him.” Your head tilts, reassembling the sandwich to presentability. 

“Jaehyun?” You gave him that same look as when he questioned you seconds earlier, except it was softer and almost incriminating. You didn’t mean it in any form, more casually but after his findings, Mark can’t say he’s too happy with this information.

“Oh, well, when you can’t bring what I ask you to, I… sometimes ask Jae. So, they've met before…” Your gaze lowers, taking the other sandwich half onto your hands. “I think he’s scared of Jae, to be honest.” You giggle in attempts to break whatever tension you felt from your husband.

‘Jae, Jae, Jae. Christ, what a broken record.’ Mark thought, an urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his coworker. For fucks sake, he was the last thing he wanted to think about or even see. The only reason he saw him today was because of work but that should be it. He shouldn’t be hearing or thinking about his name here with you. Let alone hear it coming from you, his wife.

Stretching your hand towards him, you smile. “Here, eat the other half. These are huge on their own.” He took it, lunch soured by your incessant need to bring up Jaehyun and that dickhead from earlier.

Was this how he was paid? Making an effort to be a good husband just to have things be thrown in his face?

Lunch ended not too long after, he was on his own lunch break after all. It goes to say that his drop off and goodbye bid seemed lackluster in comparison to his greeting.

“Um, and don’t forget to file a floor change.” He gave you a tired smile and a quick kiss. It was the last thing he said to you while fixing any pictures of you two on your desk —three missing now— before heading towards the elevator. 

Like an act of a malice-meaning demon, when reaching the twelfth floor, the doors yanked themselves open like a grand introduction to a world renowned boxer or an all-show wrestler, showcasing that smug pug-faced asshole. A silent chuckle upon placing himself next to Mark who slumped against the railing and mirror walls.

Mark greeted him with a huff, head lolling similar to his eyes. The feeling got worse when he heard him blubbering, “At first I thought that the other guy was her boyfriend. You know, tall, dimples; suits her better.” He nods to himself, egging Mark’s ringing ears.

Here they went again. Bringing Jaehyun into every conversation. It’s made worse knowing that this idiot felt even Jaehyun could be your partner. That no matter how many images of Mark you display, to the world only Jae was good enough for you. Because he’s the only one who shows up.

“He seems like an actual man or that guy from the floor below. The orange haired one, a little weird but he surely goes out of his way to not let me have some fun for the day.” He laughs, snorting at his abhorrence. He turns to Mark, swallowing that disgusting lump of mucus in his throat, hand itching to come in contact with Mark’s smooth cheek. A pat of mockery. “She’s doing charity work with you.” 

Ironic, Mark would say. Ironic that he thinks you’re doing charity work with him when this idiot was never an afterthought. The older man insists on glaring at Mark, not letting their gazes drop, seeking any response from Mark even when the elevator rings, letting them know they’ve hit the garage lobby. He felt victorious feeling as if he had struck a nerve when Mark hopped off without a peep. Only for his triumph to be shut down shortly after.

“No wonder she has never mentioned you before. You’re repulsive to even think about and a sorry excuse for a man.”

A disgusted scowl replaced Mark’s poker face, glaring at the once mocking jackass whose face had sagged, shock turning into anger that he didn’t know how to express before the doors closed, making his target disappear from view.

Mark might have felt great in the moment but things could only go worse for you. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He never did. He didn’t think about how it would affect you at work and the repercussions you faced for the weeks to come. Mark hadn’t processed he was at fault until your journal became frantic, pages with holes from how hard you wrote on them. Crumpled from the anger you couldn’t express besides abusing those pages.

He didn’t notice because he was indulging amongst the side notes and words highlighted with your tears about how scared you were of losing him. Your quick remarks on how you felt him pulling away or acting odd. Imploring to whichever higher being to not take him from you if that was the case. While you’re wallowing in the pits of your sadness hoping he won’t leave you, Mark enjoys the feeling of warmth seeing your desperation.

It meant you loved him, right? With how things were going on with Jaehyun, Mark took any crumb of your love that only felt real when you wrote about it. It’s hard to understand why he didn’t feel it was real when it came from your lips but it did when you confessed to the things you’ve put yourself through for him. For him, not Jaehyun, him, Mark. That felt like love.

Right, only on paper it felt like love. Not like now that you found yourself in Johnny’s kitchen with Jaehyun next to you like a guard dog, chewing your ear off with whatever he was saying despite your look of anguish. A worrying look to Mark and the likes of his— well, your friend it seems.

He had been enjoying the final match with Johnny, Yanyang, and the other coworkers they shared. You had been sitting by his side for most of it but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago that Jaehyun pulled you aside, asking for your help to make some drinks for the rest of the guests but now he was holding you hostage, begging you to drink some water.

Mark figured the drinks you had were getting to you and Jaehyun could tell. He won’t say he’s fond of that fact. That Jaehyun knows you well to the point he can tell when you need to be cut off.

Mark tried not making it obvious but when only his head isn’t turned to the TV and the host is making sure his guests are having a good time, well it’s hard to miss. Johnny notices it too, how Jaehyun was fixing you a slider, the words: “You haven’t eaten well, stop trying to fool me.” sternly spewing from his mouth.

No mayo, no pickles, no condiments at all. Just a plain cheeseburger slider. He knew how you liked it by heart and that’s something that makes Mark’s heart pound in hate.

The feeling becomes worse when your whispering turns frantic and almost audible for the rest to hear. Your words whining like you wanted to cry about how hellish work has become after Mark’s visit. Jaehyun shakes his head, hands pressing against the counter to lean against with an angry look on his face. That infamous look of hollow cheeks and sunken dead eyes. He wanted to say something but knew it was best to be a shoulder to lean on.

“And don’t tell me to talk to him about it because what’s the use?! You know how he is. I love him, I do but—” Your hands come in contact with your forehead, shaking it a bit, “Why can’t he just be a tad bit like you?…” You hiccuped, hands slowly sliding down to your mouth as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t a sign of regret but exhaustion, vile stuck in your throat. 

Jaehyun’s face softened, standing up straight to turn to you. To some form of comfort, his hand extends to rub your back, pulling you in for a side hug while you try to hold in whatever you feel. Jaehyun understands your words come from a place of hurt but confessions like that can be taken wrongly.

“Why can’t he be just a tad bit like you?...” Just like Mark had, who now felt his heart shatter. Disillusioned and hurt, stupid for thinking that you would want him no matter what. Worse off, it was Jaehyun who you confessed that to. Someone that everyone thought was a better fit for you.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.

Johnny took it upon himself to raise the volume of the TV, sparing Mark from any more anguish and saving your business to be heard by the other guests who by the graces of God were more interested in who would win the Stanley Cup this season.

His attempts didn’t work. Mark felt his world crashing down on him in this instance. He wanted to go out and scream, cry even, at the reviving memories flashing through his head. He’s seen this before— no, he’s experienced this.

Her cries to him about Hyuck to soon commence their affair in that same instance. If that was to happen in these walls, Mark thinks it’s his time to take a leap out of Johnny’s apartment balcony.

So when you leave me, I should die. I deserve it, don’t I? I can feel it getting near.

The vile stuck in your throat had been persistent on coming out, enough to push Jaehyun out of the way to run towards Johnny’s bathroom. It’s amazing how enthralled with the game his guests were to not notice anything happening behind them. To not feel Mark’s radiating poison as he watches his wife and ‘friend’ rush towards the bathroom, door slamming behind him. If it wasn’t for Jeno’s and Yangyang’s cheering scream, they would hear you hurl the slider into the toilet bowl, crying along with self-disgust.

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore; abruptly he stands, ignoring Johnny’s sympathetic look. Not only for him but for you too, aware of Mark’s own flaws. He had thoughts of barging in and blowing Jaehyun’s ear off with his barking. Questioning you about what was going on, but he slowed down when he heard you hiccup and cry before and after vomiting. Jaehyun’s soothing hushes to you making his head spin but innocent enough.

Innocent until he opened his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, pretty girl.” Jaehyun coos into Mark’s eardrum through a megaphone to imprint the notes of his voice onto his brain. 

Pretty girl. That’s his pet name for you, Mark’s pet name. Hurt floods him when you make no effort to correct him and present this fact.

Since when have you become someone else’s pretty girl?

He couldn’t take it any longer, angrily slamming the door open to watch Jaehyun soothing you with backrubs, holding your hair as you went.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mark spits out venom, mimicking that of a cobra. His eyes widened by hot fury as he approached you two. You wanted to speak, but the invasion from your gut stopped you, tears being the only thing you were able to respond with.

Jaehyun on the other hand gives him a look as if to tell him to calm down, that everything was fine, more worried about your well being than Mark’s insecurities. “Just helping her out, calm down.”

It aggravated him how collected Jaehyun’s words were, how little mind he paid him or how you made no effort to have Jaehyun stop giving you supportive squeezes (almost like you weren’t fighting for your life).

Mark huffs, hands taking purchase on his waist watching you two, the volume to the television and the guests drawn out by your heaving. He whispers, walking towards Jaehyun with that same menacing look– eye roll worthy, Jaehyun would say.

“I just fucking heard you, she’s my wife. What the fuck are you trying to do?” His finger rose to poke at Jaehyun’s shoulder. The taller one of the two feeling offended by Mark’s accusations and thoughts that he’d snake him like that. Jaehyun was not Mark.

“Sorry, that’s on me,” Jaehyun slaps Mark’s hand away, creating some distance. “I'm just helping her—” “Back the fuck off, she’s my wife…” 

Tired enough by this facade, Jaehyun scowls at Mark, pushing past him towards the door. “Then don’t be a shitty husband and she won’t have to seek other people to do what you can’t! I know how to respect marriages well enough, if anything I’m just helping her. Something you should do for once in your fucking life.”

Jaehyun bites back, watching Mark’s face falter as he slams the door behind him while you continue your sobbing. Overwhelmed by your bodily reaction but mostly for what just ensued in this room. With no form to defend yourself and Jaehyun. Hurt that Mark thought you two would betray him like he’s done to those before you.

You believe me like a God, I’ll betray you like a man.

In that instance Mark wanted to run to Jaehyun and gouge his eyes out, rip his stupid freshly bleached hair out, and beat him until he was nothing else than liquid matter. The words rang horribly inside his head to the point he was seeing red, his vision blurred and stars were floating in his eyes.

History was repeating itself and he was finally paying his wrong doings. He thought Jungwoo and Jaehyun were his friends but Hyuck thought the same of him and now he’s found himself in this predicament.

You're sweet, you're lovely. You go out of your way to make Mark happy so it was him all along. He's the problem and karma is finally making him pay the price.

Jaehyun understood it was his fault for being careless and using pet names but can one blame him when he was worried? Someone has to if not the one who bowed to do so. Even when he’s gone from eye sight, Jaehyun’s efforts are felt through Johnny who knocks on the door. Mark opens it slightly, Johnny standing before him with a glass of water and baking soda. Telling him about how Jaehyun sent him before leaving; for you to swish your mouth with this and drink some sparkling water to soothe your stomach ache.

Mark took it without a word, nodding at Johnny before shutting the door in his face as if this wasn’t his home. You were up on your feet by the time Mark turned around, lid closed as you flushed the toilet, reaching the sink to rinse your mouth before taking the glass from his hand. No words from either of you.

He looked at you through the mirror, arms crossed and factions softening upon noticing how tired and sick you looked. Gauntly, lips and eyes puffed out, and cheeks streaked. It was best to go home after that incident, only giving Johnny an apologetic goodbye while the rest of the guests paid no mind. On your end you were out of the apartment already, embarrassment laced on your face. 

And even through the car ride, all you could think about was Mark’s words and actions. Memories of Mark smugly telling his ex-best friend words Jaehyun spat at him flooded his vision, making it dangerous for him to be driving. To his side you grunted in discomfort, feeling as if vile was to rise from you again but he paid you no mind, made no effort to comfort you, more focused on his own feelings.

The look Hyuck had on his face eight years ago was the one Mark mirrors this night. One way or another one will pay for all their sins and you were his cross.

He didn’t talk to you for the remainder of the night. Didn’t care enough to question why you fell ill or how frightened you were about the possibility that this may be it, that this was his excuse to leave you behind.

The thoughts, his actions and words clouding your mind through your shower, skin care routine, and brushing your teeth. Spending minutes upon minutes doing the latter, disgusted by yourself. Brushing away all the vile you wanted to throw at him but instead ended down Johnny’s plumbing. For only Jaehyun to hear and understand.

Mark laid down on his side by the time you came out of the bathroom. You knew he was angry, his stiff body making no effort to move even when feeling the bed sink under your knees. He tried not to move when he felt your arms wrap around him seeking comfort in his warmth, but Mark wasn’t willing to give it to you. Without a care if he hurt you, which is what he did.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Your words made his eyes open. Startled, his body hardens under your touch, almost like your upcoming tears were freezing him on the spot. Damp on his sleeping shirt but hot on his back. He turns abruptly, pushing back a bit in the process. “What are you even ta—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” You cut him off, voice raising to something he’s never heard before. “You’ve been so distant. More than usual and I can’t take it anymore!” Your palms cover your eyes, pushing back tears, forbidding you to look at that mocking grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You’re the one who grows distant when I beckon you near.

His voice on the other hand makes sure you know how he feels. “You think so? I think this is the closest I’ve been to you.” He chuckles, taking into account that look of confusion on your face as you put down your hands, resting them on your lap. “Why don’t you tell me anything, Y/n? You tell Jungwoo everything. You ask Jaehyun to do everything for you. I’m your husband, why don't you don’t you trust me enough?” 

Your confusion falls, disgust and anger replace it. “When I ask anything out of you, you never want to nor know how to do it.” Your voice was hurt, head shaking a tad with every syllable, hate laced into each one. He hated how much your reaction resembled Jaehyun’s.

He doesn’t want to admit you’re right, “You ask the most absurd of favors.” He scoffs, sitting up to be face to face with you. “Are you fucking serious? You’re a grown man who can’t cook or clean for himself. Up until I saw you at the bakery I thought you didn’t know where it was but then I saw you with another girl there.” You huff, arms flailing like when you’re with Jungwoo. 

There would be some satisfaction in him to know your true self is here talking with him but bringing old news made him groan. “I thought you said it was fine and we’d drop it there.” He takes into account the glare you’re throwing him, smoke coming out of your ears the longer neither of you speak.

If he had known a few drinks would do this to you, he would have not let you drink. The thing is, Mark pays no mind to you to not notice you’ve drank mocktails all night. He was more worried about Jaehyun than you.

“It’s not fine when you’re with some other girl to a place you keep avoiding when I ask you to go. Is it because of her? Is she the one taking my place now?” Your voice came out choppy, acheful, with the question, inhaling and exhaling to calm yourself down.

He on the other hand doesn’t take it kindly, annoyed that you’d think about him that way but that's what he’s been thinking about you, so what difference does it make? It would not be his first rodeo, so are you that insane to think of him like that?

I’ll betray you like a man.

Mark stands from the bed, crouching to eye-level with you as if you were a child he’s lecturing. “It’s not because of her, I don’t give a fuck about her! I barely know her, she is just an intern, and hasn't been there for a month now! We were sent by my boss!” His fingers poke his temple, in a form to tell you to get it through your head.

“But I’m right? You don’t love me anymore.”

Mark stands up straight in disbelief with your words despite none defending his case coming from his own mouth. He could see how your heart was crushing with every passing second.

The truth is hiding in your eyes and it’s hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. 

“All this time I thought you were calm… level headed— but you're the opposite... you don’t talk to me, you tell Jaehyun and Jungwoo everything. Why can’t you tell me everything? Why can't you need and trust me?” His voice softens, calming down.

“Because you don’t ever want to listen to me! I can’t need you when you do everything in your power for me not to!” Truth is, he did know how to clean and cook for himself, he's done it before but he's grown selfish and dependent.

Your outburst left him speechless, all the sighs he had to give stuck and dispersed through every crevice of his interior, poisoning his flow. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I give and give and give but I never receive! I love you so much, it's become so painful that I rather let it slide than be far from you.” You crawl closer to the edge of the bed, hoping to minimize the distance between you two. The feeling of proximity only seems to feel farther, leaving room for a blizzard to rest between you two.

Mark knows he’s not man enough, your coworker said it. He knows he doesn’t help or take care of you, Jaehyun and Jungwoo told him so. None of these men had to tell him for him to know he doesn’t deserve you. It just so happens to be that Mark is selfish and wasn’t able to process it until now. He swore he believed you through writing but now, with you telling him directly— reality is forcing itself upon him.

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“What?” You ask confused and startled, looking up at him with fury in your eyes. “What? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re married and we’ll stay this way! It's not as easy as you let out, asshole.” You sniffle, getting off the bed now, approaching him despite the gap he’s formed between you two. In all senses. 

“You’re just not who I fell in love with anymore.”

You wanted to rip his hair out, claw his skin and inject your pain and love into him so he could understand what you felt. You knew he was selfish but how fucking stupid could he be? 

“You’re so— you’re no fucking better than anyone else. You fell in love with the idea you made of me. Whatever the fuck that is! Any chance you get to see the real me you shut me down, Mark! Why can’t you just love me?! Not the stupid girl you thought I was.”

Your cries stopped, hands taking purchase on his arms, squeezing tighter with the adrenaline of wrath coursing through your veins. You were tired, tired of his foolishness and in times like these, you weren’t going to let him ruin what you’ve built.

“You fell in love with an idealized version of me too, if you’re still this in love.” Mark gulps, making no effort to move but his eyes felt heavy and tired. Hurt even, not sure if for himself or for you, empathy winning for once. Pity sounds better.

You think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are. If you’re man at all.

“I see you for who you fucking are. You’re selfish, you don’t want to do things for others unless you’re getting something out of it. You weaponize your incompetence for me to do things for you. You’re insecure especially with other men around me because you think of yourself exactly the opposite as them unless they’re more pathetic compared to you.” Your finger poked his chest, reminiscing on how he began berating Jaehyun.

“You’re especially jealous of your friends because they offer more for me than you do and that’s your fault.  You project your insecurities and mistakes onto them and me because you’re a bad friend, husband, and ultimately a bad person. Yet I’m still with you because I love you— even with everything you put me through and how you can’t help but compare me to— to her! Get over it and through your head, that was loneliness and you were the easiest victim. No one leaves their husband for someone they don't love.”

Like the pathetic man he was, he broke down. No amount of swallowing and gulping down the knot in his throat would go away. Tears streamed down his cheeks upon hearing you project onto the world what you had whispered to the toilet bowl earlier. Mark wasn’t aware that you knew about Hyuck and her but he wouldn’t doubt if you had come across letters from them both in the past just like he came across your journals. 

Having you voice what he had been thinking about since that experience caused his world to finally see true color, despite you being purposely vicious. He knew what that fling meant for her, for Hyuck, and for him. It just so happens that it meant more for him and here he was taking it out on the only person who has stuck by his side.

You loved him but you also hated him and that was more than clear to him now.

“Better reason for us to take a break. You deserve better… I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.” He sighs, sniffling, throwing his head back to not let any more tears shed. 

“I don’t care. If I go without you I’ll—I…” you clinging your nails to his shoulders trying to cut off your words. You knew what you wanted to say wasn’t healthy, not for you and not for him. Mark knows this, weeks of reading your entries allowing him to understand what goes within the walls of your brain. 

"Y/n please stop... you’re hurting me." It doesn't change the fact that feeling it was worse than reading it. “Then you’re a coward who would die within an hour in my shoes if I treated you the way you treat me.” You sternly and ferociously spit. He wails before doing the only thing he knew would calm you down. 

Leaning in, he kisses you, meekly. Pouring in the love he once had for you and the remaining he has now. But your body rejects it, feeling how phony it is. Pushing him off, running to the restroom to repeat the happenings of earlier. Mark sighs in relief to have you not corner him but in this instance concern floods him.

He follows you to the bathroom, standing by the door frame with crossed arms. Watching you hold your hair like Jaehyun had done earlier. Tears back in your eyes as you continue to lash out your rage against the white porcelain that's witnessed this on other occasions. Although this was one that should symbolize happiness, yet it’s clear you both won’t take it as such.

Mark took a look at his watch, 11:28PM. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll take you to urgent care, you probably just need some electrolytes.” He approaches you, aiming to help you up but you resist, shaking your head defeatedly. 

“I’m not drunk.” You let out through gritted teeth. “No?” He questions smugly, annoyed at your rejection. “They were mocktails. These are normal symptoms.” He gives you a quizzical look. “Look in the drawer, Nancy Drew.” You huff, mocking him for his detective work these past weeks. It was only natural he’d find out eventually if he kept meddling in your journals.

With furrowed eyes, and look remaining, Mark pulls at the white drawer, the cold metal burning his warm hand. He digs and digs through piles of papers. All bills or old letters neither of you cared enough for. Reaching the bottom Mark feels something solid wrapped around a newer piece of paper. In comparison to the yellowing pages, this was white and bright, tied with a rubber band around the solid material.

He throws you a quick glance while taking it into his hands, unraveling the rubber to open it and come to view with three sticks, all with matching two-pink stripes. Any ounce of hope to restart is gone with the weight in his hands. Disappearing when he read the paper.

‘Laboratory report Patient: Y/n Lee. Sampled collected: May 15, 2008. Report date: May 20, 2008 Status: Pregnant Gestational age: 5-8 weeks.’

Mark reads it over and over, finally having the courage to look at you. His eyes wide and dim, reflecting on your cold angry ones. This was it. It was his life. What you would have taken as a beautiful moment, you can now agree this seals your faith. The look you gave him mirroring his misery. At least now you both were on board for once, basking in the fact this was a deadend no matter what.

You both know nothing will get fixed, all there is left is to pretend for the life that’s growing within you. Wreckless as ever, and the cycle of life continues. An innocent life to suffer the trails of a failed relationship for years to follow. That’s all Mark knows, that’s all you know. Generational curses don't end with either of you.

if you liked happy together: it’s too bad you’re married… to me, you’ll enjoy: stupid girl !

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[thesuperiorrobin]

Last trimester~

Pairing: Husband! Damian Wayne x Pregnant!Wife! Reader

Warning: Mentions of vomiting, reader is like 6-7 months pregnant

Word count: 750

Damian is confused. Every inch of his home has been clean to the T, not a single dust left behind to stick itself on any surface it comes across. So why on earth are you still vomiting your guts out? It started once you had emerged into the third trimester of your pregnancy, everything seemed to be going smoothly, and you were lucky enough to only handle a handful of morning sickness and after a while, they just stopped. Maybe it was karma coming to bite you in the ass for bragging about not getting sick every five minutes and here you are now, sitting on the couch, relaxed as you lean back wearing a pair of black sweats and a shirt that was once too big for you rolled up over your stomach to show off its roundness.

A sigh escapes your lips as you soothe away the slight pain after the precious being you’ve been creating and holding for the past seven months has decided to be cruel and kick at you to stop. “Here you go Habibti” Damian comes from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hands as she walks over to you and passes it down to you. You take it from his hands with a small ‘thank you’. He notices that slight pain expression on your face as he watches you rub away at your belly. “Have they been given you a hard time?”

“Not as much as I’d like to admit,” you say as you take a few sips of water. Damian takes it upon himself, after watching you finish the drink he takes the glass from your hand—kneeling right in between your legs as he places the glass cup on the ground. You watch him with tired eyes as his arms lift and his warm hands replace yours; finding a spot on your stomach. His warm hands feel much better than yours, the context making you sigh out and your own hands find his to be placed on top of. Damian’s hands start to roam around your stomach, your head falls back slightly, and find yourself closing your eyes as you enjoy the warm sensation.

“I cleaned the bathrooms, kitchen, our bedroom, the baby’s bedroom, and any other spare rooms in this house” he mumbles, eyes never leaving you as you hum. “Thank you, but you didn’t need—“

“I do if unwanted smells have been making you ill” A soft smile breaks out on your lips, eyes still closed as you sigh for the nth time. “And besides, it’s the least I can do. I feel useless seeing you in such a state. I feel like I’m not doing as much as I should be doing for my pregnant wife” Damian can feel you grip his hands slightly as you open your tried eyes and glance down.

“Oh ~” you coo, “you’re doing more than enough. Trust me” he cracks a smile, hands leaving your stomach as they find a place beside your thighs. He lifts himself, but not fully as he leans over your relaxed from on the couch. His green eyes find yours:

“I love you”

“I love you too” and Damian leans down to steal a kiss, one that lasts for a while but is cut very short with a rough push on his shoulders. He takes a glance of concern. Your face is pale and a hand over your mouth.

“Bathroom?” He asked and all it takes from you is a nod and he’s rushing you into the bathroom. He holds your hair back, watching as you vomit up your breakfast lunch, and snack. You can feel his warm hand rubbing your back gently. Damian helps you up and helps you freshen yourself up.

“I don’t think he likes it in there anymore, think he just wants out” You poke at your stomach and wince when you feel a harsh kick “Rude”

“He?” Damian asked “How can you be so sure?” you and Damian are waiting for the baby to be born to find out the gender, so it’s unknown to both of you at the moment. “Call it a mother’s intuition” you shrug with a smile.

Damian pinches at your cheeks softly with one hand and the other finds a place on your stomach once more “I still think it’s a girl”

“Nope, it’s a boy. One hundred percent” he rolls his eyes, dragging you to your shared bedroom.

Where the hell have I been?😭

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … HOT TO GO! ♡

5, 6, 5678!

the day had come — and of course, at the busiest hour of pizzadeliveryboy!popes shift. they still had this janky red landline phone from the 80’s in the kitchen of the restaurant, with possibly the most obnoxious ring one could fathom. like, really — it was no wonder these things weren’t household items anymore. the sound was ear piercing.

popes too busy sprinkling cheese to pick up — so you’re greeted with a disinterested thirty-something year old who barely got out his ‘you’ve reached HTG Pizza how can i help ya—” before you were blasting his ear off with—

“PUT POPE ON THE PHONE!”

you had broken up with your boyfriend. one year of toxicity, pain and torment all in the name of saving face. kook life was cruel, and appearance so often mattered more than feeling — and though your boyfriend treated you terribly… the life was safe and sweet.

maybe you were the cruel one for making pope wait. he’d been too patient for his own good— watching you try to uphold your perfect reputation whilst confiding in him on the side. he knew you were a sweet girl, simply making a bunch of not so sweet choices, and pope would never condone cheating — but soon the two of you started fooling around, which lead to you screwing around (which is just fooling around without dinner.) and just like that, he’d caught feelings.

he’d do anything to break the two of you up. no really — the term ‘praying on someone’s downfall’ was never something that the heyward boy was familiar with until he met you. it started off as petty things, reporting every instagram picture of the two of you together. this quickly evolved into sending you check in texts at angel number hours like 11:11, so that maybe you’d think some divine figure was trying to guide the two of you together. terribly enough, he even dragged kiara down to that crystal shop downtown so he could ask the nice lady with pretty feathers in her hair what crystal he could use to break you up with your boyfriend.

kiara told him in was bad karma to pray on peoples downfall.

but now he’s cycling to your house, your empty house might he mention and all but dumping his bike on your front lawn because for once it doesn’t matter who sees. hell, he even ripped off the uniform visor on his head and tossed it. you’re there at the door waiting for him under the warm porch light in just a skirt and bra like you’d already worked on getting your clothes off for him.

“i’m so sorry i had to finish my shift i obviously would have come as soon as—” he’s rambling before he’s reached you, but you’re shaking your head with a purely lustful look in your eye, breathing out a—

“— shut up.”

and as soon as he’s reached you you’re diving into his arms, legs round his waist — lips to his and you really, really didn’t care who saw. you fumble for the door anyway, the two of you bumping into things as you slam it shut behind the two of you. he takes his lips away just for a second to suck in a breath and whisper “i didn’t bring any pizza this time—” but you clearly didn’t care, stuffing your tongue back into his mouth. well, that settles that. it was never about the pizza.

every surface. pope heyward was doing you on every flat surface of that egregiously large house of yours — and soon, after much loud and bordering on aggressive sex, you’ve finally wound up on your back in bed, staring into eachothers eyes as he rolls his hips, little “ohhh, ah, ah…”’s leaving your sore and sensitive mouth.

“god i’m so glad to have you now. i can have you now, right?” popes brows furrow, looking desperate and urgent. the two of you had sweat so much he doesn’t even smell like stuffed crusts and garlic dip anymore.

“was always yours. m’sorry pope i’m so sorry!” you sob when the curve in his cock nudges your cervix because he can’t help but bottom out fully when you say it. he kept anticipating that he’d wake up to his alarm and this had all been a beautiful dream, reminding him to hang on just another day.

“you’re okay i— i’d wait forever for this. fuck.” he shudders, face dropping for a moment to press an earnest kiss to your collar bone.

“can i tell you something?” you grasp him, speaking in a hushed tone, saved for a vulnerable moment like this.

“anything!” he promises, back to eye level.

“i…i really don’t like the pizza you’d bring, i mean papa johns is just way better—”

“no yeah that’s completely understandable. i mean totally—”

you’re rolling him onto his back now. the undying urge to make up for lost time taking over and instantly you’re sinking down onto his length and grinding like your life depended on it.

“shit. oh my god.” he groans, dishevelled in your pink sheets. a hand comes to his forehead in disbelief at the sight of your naked body riding him like this, so different from your usual rushed encounters before anyone returns home or in the back of his pizza fan — and the other thumb grazes your clit, eyes glued to the way you’re swallowing him, leaving a creamy ring at his flushed base.

you follow his gaze, reaching down to spread yourself for him. quite the sight.

“who’s is it?” he presses your clit and you howl, clutching his wrist. “who’s baby? tell me please.”

“yours pope!” you cry.

“who’s?”

“s’all yours pope! it always was!”

perhaps he knew this already, but god did it feel good to hear.

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - VII - KARMA

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.5K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Feyd-Rautha gets a bitter taste of his own medicine. His arrival on Arrakis is not all he hoped it would be with his lady. He learns she is far more than meets the eye and his desire for her is only heightened by her newfound agency. Feyd doesnt mind playing by her rules, so long as he gets lucky.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: NSFW, minors do not engage, sexually explicit content and violence.

The black and white hues of Giedi Prime blur as you sit in your chambers. Your chest rises and falls as people bustle around you. Pale women and men without hair dressed in black work efficiently to ride your chambers of every single personal touch you’ve placed within. White noise plays in your mind as the events of your time here blur together. Sadness has turned into anger, and belonging into loneliness. It leaves you in a gray haze. Beyond the palace cisterns of water are loaded on to industrial ships, as well as several months worth of excessive provisions for Arrakis. You can't help but wonder if your new home will bring happiness and stability. If you and Feyd will reconcile, if things will get better. You hear the whispers. The Fremen lore is so powerful it seems to scare the terrifying brutal people of Giedi Prime. It’s a fact that seems ironic to you. Feyd will have his work cut out for him, knowing how much he enjoys bloodsports you have little hope that he’ll have time for you. Honestly, you're not even sure of what you want from him. A throat clears pulling you from your daze. Feyd’s attendant holds a silver platter with a scroll on it. Instead of speaking you give him a bored look.

“From the na-Baron” he says, only your heart doesn’t flutter like it should.

Taking the scroll you read it out of mercy. Uncrossing your legs you lift yourself off the dining room table and step down into the sunken living room, then back up to the main doors. Feyd has requested your presence. A pod awaits and you enter before his attendants can help you in. You’re still angry at him. Livid actually. There are no flutters of anticipation as you speed through the corridors. It takes several minutes before you arrive at a foreign wing of the palace. You're escorted into an elevator that ascends just as fast and as violent as all the others. Your heart begins to race a little, your senses become acute. You feel like a rat in a trap when the attendants stop following you into the dimly lit room. You tense hoping your abilities can be of service but a bright light can be seen in the distance. You try to listen for the sound of the Baron’s suspension device and cringe in anticipation of his scent - only it doesn’t come. The air becomes light, with each step you find yourself breathing easier, the air is cool and light. As you get closer you see rich green foliage that goes against everything you’ve ever learned about the industrial planet. Looking around you make note of the rich plant life, several of which produce deadly poisons but are beautiful nonetheless. Feyd materializes dressed in his regalia, a long floor length tunic that accentuates his shoulders and striking features. His full lips stretch into a smirk. Once you’ve entered the strange room you see a table has been set elegantly. 

Feyd-Rautha steps into your personal space and in spite of the magnetic chemistry between you, you step back. He catches you at your waist, not allowing you to move any further. Swallowing you refuse to cower and look at him with defiance. Flowers and a nice breakfast don’t begin to account for the pain he’s caused you. It’s like he reads your thoughts and lets you go. Feyd steps back swallowing, shame flashes across his expression in vulnerability as he tries to understand your cold reaction to his gesture. He’d never put as much thought or time into anything for anyone before. 

“Na-Baron, you requested my presence” you speak and Feyd cuts his eyes at you.

“Breakfast” he says, omitting the truth that he’d gotten only a few hours of tortured sleep and felt convicted enough to seek redemption for his actions.

“I don’t have an appetite, thank you” you smile politely but Feyd knows well enough it’s insincere. He cannot feel the energy that usually accompanies the gesture.

“Should I call a physician?” Feyd asks.

“No need, I’ve had my prognosis” you comment looking at his rare meat. The iron rich scent still makes you a little queasy. More-so, now that you're upset with the na-baron.

“I was not made aware of any assessments” Feyd comments.

“I’m sick of this planet and the people on it.” You speak recklessly. Surprise covers Feyd’s expression. You’d ever been so uncouth or cold towards him. He watches you turn, giving him your ass to kiss. He’d have anyone else strung up for such insolence. He watches the swish of your step as you sashay away. It was a declaration of war, a death wish, a slight against people who would undoubtedly become yours in due time. Feyd-Rautha had never chased anything in all his years; he hunted, he stalked, he tracked. He was the predator and whatever he had set his sights upon was prey. Swallowing his pride he pursues you widening his stride. It only takes him moments to be at your side, your angry eyes slicing him with a gaze that levels him. He’d never seen anything like it.

“My Lady” he rasps, stopping you.

“My Lord?” You respond indignantly.

You radiate a defiance unlike anything Feyd had never encountered. Indignity and a disregard for your own well being. There’d never been any guideline on how to handle you beyond his feelings and intuition. If his socialization would have it, he would have you begging for death in an hour. The mere thought of such harsh punishment has him shudder stepping back. He’d been conditioned to respond to disrespect and defiance with brutality. 

“What is your issue?” He snaps grabbing your hand.

“There are no crowds, I am not required to perform” you snap. Clenching his jaw he lets your hand go. 

“Is that all they teach at the academy, how to twist a person's words against them?” He snaps.

“If you don't like your own words then maybe you should think before you speak!” you snap back.

“Mind your temper, mind our child” he snaps looking at your stomach.Swallowing you fight everything in yourself to withhold tears.

“Lets not go tit for tat Feyd, I will be on the ship, I will play the part that’s expected of me” you respond. He says nothing more as you approach the pod.

“Out” Feyd growls at the drivers, they disperse and you allow Feyd to get to your door. You don’t thank him for getting in and he drives to the docks. You relax in the passenger seat and he steals glances slightly impressed with your anger. He wants nothing more than to touch you, to lay hands on your stomach but he doesn't want to add to your newfound rage.

“Guess I should be happy you feel safe enough to behave this terribly without fear” he comments. “It means you know I love you” Feyd says instead.

“You just don’t treat me like it” you respond and he makes a frustrated sound. 

“Enough” he warns and you roll your eyes at him. The gesture is so flagrant he nearly loses control of the pod. 

“Not even close” you respond as the vehicle comes to a stop. Leia is standing with your other staff. You get out on your own as you hear the drums begin for his unmistakable score. Turning back to him you cast him a final look as the crowd begins their chant.

“Feyd-Rautha

Feyd-Rautha

Feyd-Rautha” 

Nothing else needs to be said. So you make your way onto the ship feeling his eyes on you the entire way in. Your heart races feeling exhilarated. You feel powerful, you feel like you have agency for the first time in very long.

Petty squabbles have never been your thing, since childhood you’d been keen to let things go easily. Time with the ones we love is fleeting and no one knows that more than you. Still, you find yourself resentful of what transpired. Your desire was not to throw caution to the wind, or to openly defy the Baron. Your thoughts had been with Feyd, your actions born out of love and fear for his well being. You had no desire to delve further into the spider's web, and yet the Baron still had you trapped. You just wanted the days and nights to return to what they once were. With Feyd’s insatiable appetite for you being at the forefront of his mind. You wanted to feed his physical desire for you, to satisfy him, to make his days easier. To ensure his cuts and bruises were on the mend to ensure the father of the child quickening in your womb was alright. His response to your love and care could not be so easily forgiven, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You must take your leave of me when we arrive in Arrakis. Take time for yourself, make friends, find someone” you smile. Your plight had become hers with a few exceptions. Leia reaches for your hand resting her head against yours as she scoots beside you.

“We’re sisters, I will never desert you.” She promises and you smile.

“We’re sisters, I will never rob you of your ambition or personal desires” you retort.

“Now that you’ve had a taste of love my company is not enough?” She smiles, taking you in a hug.

“It’s just a different yearning” you disagree. “If things weren’t so bad I could feel good. I could handle the distance but I’m so angry with him and I know nothing is promised but Leia, I am seething” you confess closing your eyes.

“You ought to be angry with him, going up to the Baron you were risking your life as much as he was and we know nothing of mindless customs. You meant no harm and he knows your heart is pure” Leia says and you smile at her for her alliance.

“Exactly” you nod.

“Feyd-Rautha is not known for being a rational or sensible man. His treatment of you is ill advised but for what he’s capable of, I don’t think anyone can deny there’s love there. No physical harm has come to you” Leia defends and you roll your eyes at her sensibility. You’d knowingly fallen for a monster, what could you expect. He hadn’t been a kind, gentleman. He was a killer, a brutal man prone to torture and treachery. He’d taken your maidenhead before marriage, he kept humanoid creatures as pets, the list of misdeeds were neverending, still you couldn't deny the love there.

“If what I’ve done is unforgivable then why not do away with me? Give me a tea to end the pregnancy and return me to the academy?” You ask not understanding the harshness of Feyd’s shunning. Feyd stops in the doorway, his acute sense of hearing trained to your discussion. Do away with you? Terminate the pregnancy and send you back to the academy? Had you listened to anything he’d said or paid attention to any of his actions? Anger surges through him again and he turns away heading to his own chambers. The thought of losing you too much, the thought of anyone else having you was too much. It was why he’d been upset in the first place. Your submission to his uncle. He was supposed to be the only man to bring you to your knees. You were never supposed to subject yourself, him, or an unborn child to that. He thought having you would end the obsessive thoughts, cool the fire within him, satiate his insatiable need but it had done the opposite. Therein lies the problem. Feyd-Rautha had never been able to control himself or hold back in any scenarios. Open defiance like what you had shown was a new concept for him. Other women would have never. Other women wouldn’t have survived it. It wasn’t so much that your acts were unforgivable, Feyd could never hate you long term but he had hated you in those few moments, he’d hated the image, what it represented.

Unsheathing one of his short blades, Feyd twists it into the table top as he ponders his next steps. He balances it on its point and then balances the blade rolling it between his fingers without cutting himself. Rising he turns to the cork wall in his chambers pulling out a drawer. Right now the board would be a sit in for the Baron. With each throw, blade after blade nicks the Baron. In Feyd’s mind, he’d sliced the shield off his uncle's finger before it could be activated. Then he’d began slicing and carving up the man that had his na-baroness questioning the love he bore her. Feyd holds nothing back, letting it all out. His guards tremble at the door mistaking his plan of vengeance from a foul mood.

“Na-Baron, we will be descending in half an hour” the attendant trembles, snapping him out of his dazed state. Feyd wanted nothing more than to drag you into the bathing chamber and place soap and a scrubber in your hands. He wouldn’t say a word, you’d have to figure out what he wanted. He would make you clean every inch of him thoroughly as he watched. Your anger and the charged energy between you both add to your electricity and the danger of it all. He could feel it now as he stepped into the shower, your soft hands running soap along his chest, the admiration for his form in your eyes always did something to him. He hoped anger would never change that. Top to bottom, he would guide you to your knees only to have you test your own work. He would guide his already hard manhood into your mouth. He’d speak for the first time asking you if it’s clean as he pushes it in so far you gag needing reprieve. He’d use your defiance against you, it would be the perfect recipe for a violent orgasm. He’d pinch one of your nipples to further his cruelty as you tried to undo him with your mouth. He’d grab a handful of your hair for leverage, he’d lie and tell you it was the worst blowjob he’d ever received through closed eyes and gritted teeth. It would incense you, he knows it would, but you won’t get up and walk away, you’d somehow get even better rising to the occasion. The hatred for him in your eyes fuelling his desire for you. Your eyes looking back at him as you draw in your cheeks adding more suction. When he was close he’d push you away by the throat to avoid the defeat of coming everywhere. He couldn’t grant you that victory with those defiant eyes. He could picture you turning to walk away upset and seeming unbothered and that’s when he would crack. His heart would race as he swiped two fingers at your folds, closing his eyes with pride when he felt your honey oozing for him. He’d put his dick where it belonged, burying it deep within you. He’d be undone by all the angry tension leaving your face and body as you re-acclimate to him. He’d steady you in the slippery bathing chambers thrusting hard. It would be quick, it’d been too long. He’d have your back against the chamber walls pressing his weight into you as he empties his arousal into you. He’d leave himself in, still hard and ready for more. That first kiss would be his apology, he’d get lost in it. There wouldn’t need to be any words as he looked into your eyes dispelling any concerns about the status of his desire for you. Disconnecting would be a task but it would be his turn to wash you up. The people of Arrakis would have to wait for the na-baron and his intended to dismount from the ship. He’d take your hand keeping you at his side so the people knew they had to answer to the both of you. On Arrakis you would be equals. He would teach you to keep your head held high. He’d take his time making love to you a few more times that afternoon before going on his first raids.

Opening his eyes Feyd releases a firm grip from his manhood. The mere fantasy of you is far more powerful than the prospect of another woman. Ridding himself of his mess, he leaves the bathing chambers getting on his garments and then his armor. Unlike most he needed to cover himself under the powerful Arrakeen sun. You hear Feyd's strong stride before you see him. Turning you see the na-baron, he has the flush he has after he’s made love to you. Your heart skips, your stomach falls and you feel loss - he’d been with someone. Frowning you swallow the sting of his infidelity bowing to him in the company of the huge procession traveling with you.

The bay doors descend slowly to a flurry of whispers and celebration sounds. The heat is strong, your robes blow slightly in the ever so slight breeze that seems to bring more heat than reprieve. Taking Leia’s had you step forward seeing the crowds. You go to take the discreet way onto the palatial grounds with the staff. Trying to remain calm in the face of the people about Feyd’s disloyalty. You look out at the hooded people and begin stepping down like the rest of the procession. A firm hand takes your wrist. Feyd looks down at you. His face is somewhat obstructed by a face shield contraption. Leia stops letting go when she sees Feyd’s hand around your wrist. To both of their surprise you snatch your wrist out of his grasp heading to follow the entourage. Feyd stands shocked allowing you to make several determined steps away before grabbing you by the arm this time. He presses the shield on his face making the screen go away.

“Walk” he commands tilting his head in the direction of the people. Blind rage has you angry enough to openly defy him once more.

“Go with him” Leia says telepathically. Swallowing your anger you adjust your robes and jewelry before turning to face Feyd. He holds a hand out for you to take it. You're so disgusted by his betrayal you cannot. Disgruntled Feyd grabs your hand before striding down the opening ship for onlookers. The reception is mixed, people shout different things, all respectful as far as you reckon. The strength of the sun mixed with the fire kindling in you is a dangerous combination.

“What’s the matter with you?” Feyd asks once you’ve completed the long walk into the palace.

“You don’t care” you grit. As the doors are closed behind you. Looking up you see the brown stone walls all around you. The attendants and staff are already more promising, not all of them are hairless and stark. Their eyes are warm and though there may be treachery in them you don’t foresee the same imminent danger as in Giedi Prime.

“Disperse!” Feyd roars, dragging you into a room as people scatter. He closes the door behind you and you turn, shoving him back reaching for the door as he holds it shut above you. Turning your back is against the wall, Feyd stands over you with his hand pressed against the door above your head. He doesn’t know whether to be turned on or murderous about your disrespect. Somehow your angry eyes are just as beautiful as your happy ones. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you stare back at him the tension thick between you.

“What?” You snap, stomping. 

“It must be the child that has you in this way!” He snaps with a clenched jaw.

“You were with someone on the ship here. Don’t lie to me, I know I can see it in your eyes, in your stance. Go to her and leave me be” you snap, turning to the door but there’s no knob and your strength isn’t a match for Feyd’s. When you turn he wears a smirk, losing it you shove him back for mocking you further. Chuckling he lets you take a few determined steps away.

“There’s one exit” he says, having you trapped. He undoes his armor and you wish you were strong enough to hurt him.

“There was no one else, no one else just visions of you and my hand” Feyd says, stopping you in your tracks. You stare at him, he’d never been a liar thus far and had no reason to lie but… taking a deep breath you pause trying to sense if it's the truth or not.

“I’ve already explained I need your love, I don’t do substitutions” Feyd-Rautha says and his tone does not waiver. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment over your behavior. You curse yourself for the colorful display and rush for the door. Your shoes make noise on the stone floor, the halls are deserted, you just follow the path until Feyd’s steps sound behind yours. When you reach the edge of the hall a few people look relieved to see you alive, Leia chief among them. 

“Anything the lady wants” Feyd speaks before turning in the direction of his war council. The sooner he could eradicate the Fremen rebellion the sooner he could tend to the woman he found himself thinking the gods had fashioned just for him. The crazy outburst stroking new flames within him. Going against his better judgment Feyd follows you into your chambers and the staff clears out. You turn to face him. He must think you’re a weak minded, stupid, lovesick, silly woman. The smirk on his face tells you he’s enjoying every moment of this. 

“Kneel” you tell him telepathically. You can feel resistance as he tries to decipher what’s happening to him. Feyd-Rautha falls to his knees. His eyes are on yours as you close the distance between you. “I may have been on my knees but I never begged” you say once again, your words leave your mind floating into his. You see comprehension in his eyes when he realizes your mouth hasn't moved. “It was never submission and if you opened your thick head and let me be there for you, you would know that! And then we wouldn’t be at odds and you wouldn’t have to have used your hand today. I would’ve been happy to show my appreciation to you and to walk at your side. Now I want you gone from my sight.” Your message is conveyed. Feyd goes to speak, “Silence” you declare and his lips close. “Stand and leave now, tend to your spice, finish your raid, leave me be” you add, turning away from him again. You can feel the resistance but ultimately in this area you are stronger than Feyd-Rautha. He says nothing, getting on his feet and leaving.

Deep admiration for you swells within him, at your strength, power and prowess. He’d been right about the gods.

———

Feyd-Rautha’s ability to focus is what set him apart from his brother. Unlike Rabanne he made everything coordinated on live feeds. There would be an overwhelming use of force in sync, giving the Fremen little time to react. He’d been tracking their movements and instead of wasting manpower he would use firepower to do as much damage as possible. He feared no one while out in the desert, unlike most he would not tire or dehydrate so fast. He’d withstood trials in extreme heat before and practiced fighting in the sand. Looking at the triangulation on the live map he uses the heat cameras to ensure the areas are as populated as was reported before callously pressing the buttons. Watching from the safety of his ship he sees all of the attacks have been successful. All possible entrances were destroyed. He has his reserve force evacuate the known alternate refuges. He’d had the doors re-wired to open allowing a large number of people inside before closing. Then those inside would be eviscerated in moments. The remaining living Fremen would be more desperate to crack, more pliable or more radical. Either way, there would be value in turning those few survivors. It would be consolation for all the restraint he required to deal with you. The success of his mission yields happy thoughts. Relaxing in his seat he considers his actions. In his preparation for Arrakis he had underestimated you greatly.

 Like one of his knives, the more beautiful the more deadly - the same was to be said for you. Your beautiful eyes were more piercing than a sword, looking as innocent as they do while yielding the ability to rob a man of his free will without a word. If it hadn't been for your blood within Feyd he never would have known it was you, as the sound of the voice in his head was his own. He felt the urge to kneel and do everything else you declared. Unlike with the late Bene Gesserit whose voice felt like a demand. The sound of shots being fired from the ship gets his attention as Fremen leaving the caves are killed.

“Should we go down and take hostages?” One of his men asks.

“No” Feyd says, not willing to risk his trip back home to you.

After a long day of fighting and bloodshed Feyd is satisfied by how things have gone. He could place harvesters down but he didn’t want to lose any others. He wouldn't risk it. He had better alternatives. Unlike his brother Feyd could take his time, there was no need for great haste just success.

“Reports of my betrothed?” He asks.

“She has had her lunch and dinner. She and her ladies went out into the night markets to give the excess to the people, specifically the children. She was advised against it but - she did as she wished.” The Mentat says. Feyd knows the creature's allegiance is to the Baron.

“If my betrothed requires advice I’m sure she will request it” Feys responds on your behalf.

“My lord it is unsafe and ill advised” the Mentat says. Feyd is no fool; he knows the objective of your exploration is undoubtedly to cause him grief but that frustration would be his and no one else’s. He slices the creature's throat without another thought and settles into his seat as the blood pools. Attendants carry the body out and silence falls on the ship.

Back on at the palace you feel far more settled and stable after a night enjoying the people and culture of Arrakis. It’s been so long since you’ve experienced any semblance of normalcy being at the academy and then on Giedi Prime. Your father had been a kind ruler and you hoped to be the same. Arrakeen mothers had been reluctant at first but then they’d come willingly. The kids had smiled as they ate things they’d never tried before, melons and other fruits not native to the desert. The party only grew in size as the people came to celebrate your kindness and arrival. You danced and laughed with Leia feeling as though you could breathe for the first time in so long. The blue eyed people sprinkled into the crowds brought you back to your visions but none looked like that woman watching you in a still suit. You return to your chambers with jewelry, silks and perfumes. Leia retires before you’re ready for sleep. You sit in the windowsill looking out into the nights shadows. You sense Feyd before you hear his soft steps. When you turn he’s in his night clothes, ready for bed. Unfortunately the technology in Arrakis is more analog and so keeping him out will take time. You’re happy he’s back safe, in spite of everything.

You want nothing more than to sit in his lap and melt into his arms. But, Feyd-Rautha has taught you much of the pride a na-baroness is supposed to have. The emotional control required of you, the constant calculation and maneuvering is exhausting.

“Come to bed” he commands, unwilling to submit. 

“Where are your quarters?” You ask and Feyd looks around. Frowning you raise an eyebrow. “It’s against custom, we’ve yet to marry” you remind him.

“You’ve chosen these rooms, there is no suitable room close enough to suit my needs” Feyd explains.

“Well as much as custom is important to you it is to me and I’d like you to take your leave” you comment taking the steps down from the window. Feyd smirks knowing he deserves your pettiness.

“Customs rooted in the opinions of others have no bearing on our relationship” Feyd says without humor.

“Since when?” you ask

“New place, new start” he declares conveniently.

“Why do you get the final say?” You ask as he closes in on you. Holding an arm out you keep him at arm's length. His eyes are on yours as he kisses the inside of your wrist. “Want to make it right?” You ask and he nods. “Sleep in your quarters, leave me be tonight” you tell him, getting a guttural growl in response. 

“No” he steps in and you step back.

“Yes. Then tomorrow; new place, new start” you respond, maintaining the distance. Feyds features harden; he steps forward again and you step back. It’s a battle of wills you're well aware Feyd could overpower you and your abilities only seemed to take when you were experiencing extremely heightened negative emotions. If Feyd pushed hard enough you’d crack wanting him as much as he wants you especially after this morning.

“Fine,” he agrees. Smiling you let your hand down, frustrated he turns away annoyed at your excitement. He takes a few steps down heading to the door without a goodnight.

“Feyd?” you call and he turns. “What was I doing in your fantasy on the ship?” You tease, his frown turns to a smile and he shakes his head heading to the door.

“I was giving you the hard fucking I should’ve started with” he says with his back to you. Turning to face you he assesses your pensive reaction. Shrugging you turn your back to him heading back up to the window.

“Maybe you can work on earning those privileges” you comment and he smiles shaking his head, he’d make you eat your words.

“Goodnight my love” he rasps.

“Good night na-Baron” you respond and he stops giving you another look. He gives you the opportunity to bid him the proper farewell and when it doesn’t come he strides to you up the stairs. Your heart races as his eyes fall to your lips instead he stinks down to a squat pulling you to him. He places a kiss on your stomach.

“Your father Feyd-Rautha loves you dearly, so I’ll let your mother have her way this night. I want you to be strong and healthy” Feyd says before standing. It’s high-level manipulation. You both know it as you melt. Feyd has never been known to play fair.

“Love you” he says again before leaving. You feel goosebumps pepper your skin. You lock the door behind him after palming your stomach. You step slowly back to your bedroom. Once in his quarters nearly five minutes away Feyd sits on his bed. It had been a foolish bit of architecture, clearly the previous occupants hadn’t loved each other, what other reason was there for such impracticality. He would have that rectified the moment the spice was flowing again. Turning on his screen he looks in on you. His eyes gape at the sight. There you are in a red and gold set that makes you look ethereal, wilder than any dream or fantasy his mind could ever conjure.

You had purchased a new wardrobe from the market. Undergarments and clothing said to stoke passion and desire from your lover. Something about the racy garments brought your thoughts to Feyd. It was supposed to be a surprise for your reconciliation but playing as dirty as he was now would have to do. Knowing his voyeuristic tendencies you put it on quickly before he could get into his room. You picture the lust in his eyes as he sees you on screen. The bra fits your breasts so well, the new volume of them confirming your pregnancy to him, as did the new curve of your hips. Barely visible changes to anyone else, but Feyd studied every inch of your figure. He watches as your hands hover over all the parts of you he loves so much. Untying the short red sarong of sorts he sees a small undergarment that covers hardly anything. Nothing similar could be found on Giedi Prime and he’d brought nothing of the sort from the academy. Arching your back you continue your striptease emboldened by Feyd’s own manipulation. You drag your hands up your behind the way Feyd does. You can feel his eyes on you as you pad to the bathing chambers. It's not as technical as the self cleaning mechanisms of Giedi but it will do. You part with your top before your bottoms baring it all unabashedly for Feyd your skin heating from the thrill of your seduction. You stand under the stream of water in view of the camera, facing him. You glisten, radiating confidence and seduction. He should be in there with you making his reverie come true. It’s a great miracle he remains seated growing painfully hard as he watches you wash up. He wanted to know you as intimately as you know yourself again. It should be his hands on you and yours on him. How could he ever be so stupid to risk you? Only you would be so crazy, so daring to push him so close to the edge. Freeing himself of his pants he uses his early arousal for slip.

You put on a show for him knowing he needs it, knowing he’s watching.  Adjusting yourself to the cameras you make sure he has the perfect view. Stepping from the shower to the air dryer you pad naked to your closet and pick out a sheer sleep set. Feyd can hardly stand not being able to touch you, he would let you be this once. Turning you lean against the intercom knowing it goes to him first looking at the camera he feels like your eyes meet his and he freezes mid stroke. Your eyes seem to be looking through him, your smirk all knowing as it curls into a smile. His breathing slows as you look to him coyly.

“White or lilac?” You ask looking up at the camera shattering his secret. His heart begins to race as it registers. The act had not been innocent but all for him. A tantalizing seduction you were taunting him with what was his and he yet he couldn't have.

“You're a bad bad bad na-baroness” he responds his voice is so guttural you know he’s pleasuring himself. Relaxing you smile nodding.

“So you’d better be a very good na-baron, going forward” you respond.

“Lilac your grace” he says and you dress slowly for him. “You don’t know what-”

You cut him off by pressing the button to chip him out, “Shows over Feyd-Rautha, sleep well my love” You say cutting off the light to leave him high and dry. As much as you want him you stand your ground as he had stood his. Smiling Feyd only feels arousal. It takes no time at all to finish himself off. His attraction to you was becoming dangerous, at this rate he would never stop having children.  He would need you every night, sometimes multiple times a day. You were teaching him so much about partnership, showing him grace where he’d shown you pride and immaturity. You had never asked him for change, you’d never asked him for anything really. He felt the shame of his actions, he was going to be a father soon and the only place he should be is beside you in bed. It had been his plan for Arrakis.  Feyd vows that it will be different come morning, he would hire the seamstresses to make multiples. He would begin the wedding preparations without the Baron’s consent. He would be the best lover and father. He would erase all ambiguity showing his love with the same unbridled abandon he showed his wrath.

The heated air rouses Feyd from an uncomfortable night's sleep. Coming to his senses slowly, you're the first thing on his mind. Checking the tablet he doesn’t see you in your chambers. Frowning as he stood there was no time to set up any other parts with such high tech cameras. He freshens up before dressing in his typical attire attaching his blade belt. Order would need to be maintained and fear would be his best motivator. Pushing open his bedroom door there’s no sign of movement. Looking around he heads to your quarters and stops at the scent of fresh blood. Running he sees dead guards littered all around the vicinity. Rushing to your door  he finds evidence of forced entry and pushes it open to find the room he’d seen on the screen, there were no signs of struggle. Heading to your bedside as your heart races he sees the lilac set has been discarded.

Leia comes to mind. He rushes over to her quarters and finds her tied up and gagged. Her tears weaken Feyds knees and he stumbles back into the wall. Taking the blade he cuts the bonds.

“They came looking for you, I heard footsteps but I couldn’t get to her in time. We were communicating telepathically, and I was about to get help when men came in and did this” she explains fast with tears in her eyes. Feyd has the urge to end her life but he already had enough to apologize to you for.

“Was she hurt?”

“No, there was a bag over her head. They were asking her for you” Leia explains. It’s the challenge of Feyd’s life. Pushing through he heads to the control center only to find all the surveillance systems down and workers dead. It had been an inside job. Grabbing a tablet he goes into your room's cameras rewinding the footage. You’re seconds away from pressing the intercom when they come in with guns pointed at you and his unborn. 

“Where is the Harkonnen scum?” you’re asked as you raise your hand in surrender. The guards repeat themselves and you go to scream only to have a black bag put over your head to silence you. They declare they’re taking you for questioning. The men leave and three women stand around you ransacking your closet. Feyd watches as they strip you, dressing you and then putting a still suit over your garments. Rising his chest heaves when he realizes you're destined for the desert. Seeing red, he vows to turn the dunes of Arrakis red with Fremen blood.

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Authors Note:

I now this was a long one, probably the longest part I've ever written. Thank you so much for reading it. What do we think of the Lady's payback? Feyd's attempts to redeem himself and his double dose of Karma? Remember those visions a few chapters ago? What do we think happens next?

If you enjoyed, like comment and reblog.

See you in the comments below, xoxo

______________________

Tags:

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[jo-speaks]

ice skating

in which…

quinn and fem! reader indulge in one of quinn's favourite activities!

ninth date in the 'alphabet dates' series!

You could feel the cool temperature of the arena course through your body quickly, the hairs on your arms and legs standing up even through your warm clothing. Quinn felt you tense up against his arm, concern displayed on his face. 

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, just cold.” You replied, squeezing his bicep in reassurance. He smiled and nodded, pulling you with him as he stepped onto the ice. 

Tonight was Quinn’s pick for date night, so it didn’t surprise you when he put your barely used skates in the trunk along with his duffel bag with all his gear in it. 

At first, you managed to keep your balance on the thin blade of your skates. But the second he sped up, your upper body dragging your legs along with you as you leaned over to keep up with him. 

Quinn laughed at your awkward stance, stopping his movement, causing you to crash into his chest. “Quinn!” You groaned, his sweet laughter drowning your senses. 

You peeked up, seeing his teeth on display as you felt the rise and fall of his chest against your cold cheeks. His eyes were closed due to the width of his smile, so he didn’t see the way your eyes lit up as you admired the pure joy on his face caused by such a minuscule moment such as this one.

His laughter died down after a few moments, drawing in a few short gasps before returning to his usual state of being. “How about you take the lead on this one?” He suggested.

You let out a snort, “Yeah right. I nearly just fell and you want me to keep you straight?”

“No need to. I know how to skate.” He teased, poking his finger into your side. 

Rolling your eyes, you wobbled forward, refinding your balance before pushing your skate into the ice, gripping tightly onto your boyfriend as you skated around the curve of the rink. It wasn’t the fastest movement, but you managed to do it with little help from Quinn.

Before you knew it, you had successfully taken a lap around the rink. Getting a little too eager about the accomplishment, you let go of Quinn’s arm to give yourself a round of applause, momentarily forgetting you weren’t in your normal, flat shoes. 

So, due to physics, gravity, and all that, you stumbled backward, rotating your arms in circles to try and keep yourself straight. Unfortunately for you, science won the battle. You fell onto your bottom, your hands thankfully reacting quickly enough to prevent the rest of your upper body from hitting the ice. 

As you groaned dramatically in pain, the sound of laughter filled the rink. Quinn was hunched over, hands resting on his sweatpant-covered knees, face quickly turning red due to the lack of oxygen he was receiving. You had never seen him laugh this hard, his small gasps turning into wheezes. Since he was laughing this hard, the rest of his body couldn’t keep up. 

He suffered the same fate you did, falling a bit softer than you since he was pretty close to the ground. 

Almost like a mimic, you laughed along with him, his body convulsing on the ice as he continued laughing, at both you and himself. 

“That was karma!” You wheezed, shifting to your side before laying on your stomach to try and calm yourself.

However, the previous events left the two of you weak on the ground, laughing for what seemed like an eternity. 

Quinn eventually came to, awkwardly scooting over to your side to hold you against his chest as he tried to calm you down. 

“I’ll never get tired of your laugh, Y/N.” 

[deanscherrypie420]

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝

A/N: This is my first criminal minds fic but I figured I should cause I LOVE the show... I haven't watched the new season yet cause of personal reasons but, ya know, I'll get there. <3 I hope you enjoy

Characters: Spencer Reid, Reader Y/N, JJ, Emily Prentiss, Luke Alvez,

Pairing: Reader X Spencer

Warnings: Mentions of murder, interrogation, violence, angst, fluff, suggestive dialogue, arguing, praise kink, Dom/sub, age gap, implied smut, (6 years) (NO ACTUAL SMUT.) (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: After taking you into custody, the team tries to get a confession out of you for a crime they suspect you committed. The only thing you seem to want is to play. They bring in Reid as a last resort, and you can't help but like him... Even if he is a pain in the ass.

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Y/N was walking around in the mall, stopping to check out Victoria Secret. She loved the store, the fragrances, the clothes, or lack there of. Lingerie made her feel pretty, and she loved it.

After selecting a few sets that she liked, along with a set of perfume and lotion, she went to the checkout. She opened her wallet and grabbed one of her many cards, handing it to the cashier with a smile.

"Thank you for shopping with us, have a lovely day." The woman told her, and she rolled her eyes. Once she left the store she took the escalator downstairs, making her way to the parking lot. When she arrived, she noticed the swarm of cop cars.

"Ironic." She told herself, keeping her head down and making her way to her car. She opened her passenger door and set the bag down. When she turned around, she was met by two agents.

"Y/N Y/L/N, you're under arrest for suspected murder, accomplice to murder, and grand theft." The taller man spoke, and she nodded, a small smile creeping onto her lips.

"How fun." She said as she put her hands behind her back, hiding a small blade within her sleeve. The man turned her around and pressed her against the car. Before he could inform her of her rights, she maneuvered the blade from its confinement and sliced the agent's wrist.

It wasn't meant to help her escape, but simply to vex the man. He grunted and slammed her harder against her vehicle, tightening the cuffs harshly around her wrists. She gasped and bit her lip, "That hurts!" She protested, but was quickly shut up by his partner. "Karma's a bitch."

She was led to a black SUV, a large hand covering the back of her head as she got in. The drive was quiet, she spent most of her time studying the agents. One was a blonde, slim, confident woman. The other was a brown haired, taller man.

She slouched down, moving her elbow to undo her seat-belt. Once it was off, she leaned forward and grinned. "Officer, do I get to keep my stuff?" She cooed in the man's ear. He looked back at her in the rear-view mirror and tsked in disapproval. "You got out of your seatbelt."

"Sit back, head against the headrest." The woman ordered. Y/N pouted her lip, falling back into her seat. "It's not like I have my hands. I can't hurt you." She complained, but she was ignored.

Ugh, so rude, she thought.

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Now, she was sitting alone in an interrogation room. She tilted back in her chair, her handcuffs binding her to the table. "I'm bored! Come on guys, where are you?" She shouted at the mirror, a sick smile on her face. "Play with me!"

She had already spoken to quite a few agents. She had fun with all of them, watching them get mad. Oh, how she loved it. Her smile only grew as a new woman came in.

"Oh goody! I love meeting new people." She feigned innocence, her tone high pitch and bubbly. "I'm Agent Prentiss. I'm assuming you know why you're here?" Her tone was gentle, like a parent soothing a child.

"Is this your new tactic? Baby me and hope I confess?" Y/N giggled, soaking up Emily's irritated look. "Y'know, you have a really bad poker face. You're pissed!" She broke out in a fit of laughter, swinging back in her chair and tilting her head back.

Emily abruptly left the room, taken aback by the young woman's demeanor. When she closed the door, she turned to her group. "Do you guys see this? We played all of our cards here. She's not gonna talk until we get something we can use."

Jennifer shook her head, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "We literally brought Daniel up, and she didn't flinch. How does that not affect her?" She sounded exasperated, so ready to be done with this case.

Suddenly, Spencer barged into the room. He seemed to be in a hurry, a file in his hand. "Let me. I think I can get something out of her." He asked quickly. Emily just nodded and motioned towards the door.

Y/N raised her eyebrows when he came in, kicking the chair in front of her out from beneath the table. "You're the guy from the car." She acknowledged, and he nodded.

"You're being held for suspected murder and theft. How do you feel about that?" He asked, and she thought for a moment. "Hmmm... I think it's awesome. What about you?" She teased, and he gave her a stern look.

She didn't know why, but she felt her stomach turn. She leaned back in her chair and scoffed. "You're no fun. Why are you here?" He shook his head and opened her file, not bothering to answer her.

"Hey, I asked you a question." She hissed, annoyance creeping in. "Answer me!" She whined, and he slammed his hand down on the table. "Shut up. Speak when I ask you to."

She felt her cheeks warm, embarrassment evident on her face. She bit down on her lip and kicked his legs beneath the table. "You're a douche." She muttered and he ignored her again, setting the file down and flipping it for her to see.

"Your accomplice is Daniel Turner, correct?" He questioned and she rolled her eyes, her turn to blow him off. He didn't let it slide though, standing and grabbing her face. "Correct?" He repeated, and she swallowed hard.

"Correct." Her voice was quiet now, polar opposite to what it was before. He smiled and sat back down. "Good girl." He praised. She froze, eyes locked on him. She felt a warm feeling pool in her core, overwhelming her. He, on the other hand, continued skimming through her file. He knew what he was doing.

The profile read dysfunctional family, so he knew she had some sort of parental issues. They had tried both approaches, Luke playing the role of the proud dad and Emily as the proud mother. It didn't work for either of them, so they abandoned the idea.

He didn't know why it wasn't obvious before, but an older man wasn't enough. Reid was thirty-two and she was twenty-six, but she wanted dominance. Luke had taken the soft approach and it didn't work, so Spencer decided to try it the other way around. So far, he was successful.

She bit her lip as she watched him, squirming slightly in her seat. She was hot and bothered, and tried to hide it. She knew it would be used as a leverage. What she didn't know, was that it already was.

"Stop moving." He ordered her, and she scoffed. "I'm sorry, these cuffs aren't exactly comfortable." She spat at him and he looked up at her. Quickly, he got up and pulled out the key. He removed her handcuffs and set them on the table. She was about to say something smug, but he was quicker.

"Lose the attitude." He paused then glanced down at her, "Also, you're cuffs have nothing to do with your legs. Don't lie to me again." That seemed to shut her up, her cheeks burning with red as she nodded. After a few minutes he set the file back down, flipping to a specific page. "You murdered this man, correct?" She looked down at the picture, her face subconsciously contorting in disgust. She quickly fixed her face, plastering a smile onto it. "I don't know, did I?" She teased and he glared at her.

It was a warning. A warning for her to change her tone or she'd be a bad girl. "Yes, sir." She mumbled and he raised a brow. Spencer shook his head and stood up to leave. "W-wait, where are you going?" She asked, the eagerness in her voice betraying her.

"I don't like liars, Y/N. Do you want to try that again?" He scolded, and she moved back in her chair. She knew she was supposed to be taking the blame for this, she was the cover-up, but she knew she wanted him more.

"I, uh, I do." Her eyes were glued to her feet, and he smiled. "Look at me when you speak." He told her, and she hesitated, but held eye contact as he sat down. "I didn't... I didn't do that." She motioned to the picture, not wanting to look at it again.

"But you know who did. Can you tell me?" His tone was different now. It was still stern, but it had a softer edge. He was coaxing the answering out of her, rewarding her good behavior by being gentle.

"No.." She shook her head slowly, now staring at the wall behind him. He raised a brow and frowned. "Why is that?" He prodded, and her teeth sunk into her lip.

She cleared her throat and tried to upkeep her tough demeanor. "I don't know anything. You don't have anything to charge me with so I want to leave." She held eye contact with him, and he gave a pity grin.

He raised his wrist and pulled down his sleeve, revealing the deep, crimson slice she had inflicted earlier. "Assaulting law enforcement is a charge, and if you don't cooperate I'll be sure to press that." He warned and she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.

Her cheeks were pink and she looked nervous, with more than just her current situation. "Talk to me." He said as he stood up and moved in front of her, kneeling down.

She choked on her words, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "I didn't know... I mean, I know now but I didn't know this is what he made me cover for. This c-could ruin my life." Her voice was barely a whisper, tears falling into her lap.

He reached up and wiped her cheek with his thumb, then carefully taking her hands from her lap and squeezing them. "We know Daniel did the digital work, who committed the murder." He questioned further and she broke.

She started crying, the most vulnerable they've seen her. She confessed everything she knew, Spencer occasionally having to calm her down so she could breathe.

After she spilled her guts, they had a name. Anthony Velasquez, 30 year old male. Spencer quickly got up, picking the file up to leave the room. She knew he would leave. but she felt used. She didn't know why.

Reid paused at the door and turned to her. "For your cooperation, you are free to go. You might have to stick around for a bit to answer more questions, though." She nodded and wiped her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

He walked back over to her and helped her stand up before wrapping her in a tight hug. "You did great," He rubbed her back and cradled her head in his free hand.

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A few days had gone by since the incident. Y/N was home alone, laying in her bed and processing the last few days. Suddenly, her phone rang and she jumped.

She fumbled it in her hands for a moment before she pressed accept. "Hello?" She croaked, her throat dry. "Hey, it's Spencer. I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner with me?" He asked casually. On the other end, he was at his desk, fidgeting with a pen.

"Oh. I mean, sure, yes. Yes, of course. Not of course, but yes, I would like that." She rambled for a moment, her cheeks warm. She was flustered and a bit nervous. She had assumed she was just another case, but maybe not...

"Okay great, I'll pick you up at eight. Text me the address. Bye." She didn't have to see him to hear his smile, which only made hers grow. "Okay, bye." She checked her home screen, realizing she only had two hours to get ready.

She had showered in record time, carefully selecting an outfit afterwards. She couldn't decide between two dresses. Both were red, and both ended at her mid-thigh. The only difference was the texture. One was silk, and one was covered in lace designs.

She walked to her mirror and pressed them to her body. She ended up deciding the lace dress, sliding it on and returning to the closet. She selected a matching pair of red heels and put them on, twirling in front of the mirror in triumph.

She then sat down at her vanity and brushed her hair out, painting her nails and doing her makeup. She hadn't been on a date in awhile, so she was a little nervous.

She felt pathetic, staring at her phone and waiting for him to arrive. Once it neared 8:15, she wondered if it was a joke, if he even liked her. She sat up on her bed and thought for a moment, her insecurities bombarding her mind.

All of her worries seemed to fade when she heard a knock at her door. She quickly made her way across the apartment, opening her door carefully. She was greeted by Spencer, he was wearing a nice suit and dress shoes.

She smiled and opened the door fully. "Hi, sorry. I forgot my bag, give me a second." She said as she turned away from the door, leaving it ajar. He stepped inside and looked around, finding her choice of decor adorable. He thought she was adorable.

She came back from her room, and he looked her up and down. She looked magnificent. "Sorry, I didn't know if it was a nice restaurant or not.. I feel like an idiot, I haven't been on a date in who knows how long. Sorry, I'm rambling, I get really nervous. I mean, I am really nervous. Not because you make me nervous, but I mean you do, but-" He cut her off, striding forward and cupping her face.

He kissed her. She froze for a second but quickly leaned into it. They stumbled back onto a wall and he caged her in, devouring her lips. She tasted heavenly, and he never wanted to let go.

She however, needed to breathe and gently pulled back. She giggled when she saw him, her red lipstick smudged all over his mouth. "What?" He questioned, and she reached up and swiped his lips. "You have my lipstick all over your face." They both laughed and he bit his lip, moving his hand to her mouth. His thumb pulled down her bottom lip and he smiled.

"Pretty girl." He whispered before leaning back down and connecting their lips again. He tapped her hip with his finger, letting her know he was about to pick her up, and he did.

She gasped and looked down at him, her hair falling down her shoulders. "What about dinner?" She breathed out, a smile spread across her face. He leaned up and kissed her, "I have a better idea." He murmured against her lips, his hands travelling up her back, pushing her dress up. He carried her to her bedroom, kissing up her neck. She gasped and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He groaned and tossed her onto the bed, a loud yelp escaping Y/N, followed by a giggle. Spencer looked down at her and bit his lip, "You're so beautiful." He praised, climbing on top of her and claiming her lips again.

My pretty girl

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A/N: I didn't proofread yet, I just kinda rushed it. I COULDN'T HELP IT I WANTED SPENCER REID!! I hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!

Follow, reblog, and like! Send requests <3

[animeomegas]

I wanted to ask if you can do a more in-depth, for Shikamaru in his obsession. Like, A more in-depth look at everyone’s reaction when they found out and a more in-depth look at how they treat each other. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I am obsessed with Shikamaru and his obsession

Hehe, I think lots of people love Shikamaru and his obsession~ I decided to write about what happens just after they met for the first time, hope you enjoy~

Omega!Shikamaru x Alpha!Reader

Summary: Meeting his obsession at only age 5, Shikamaru is lucky enough to have his entire lifetime with his obsession at his side. Shikaku doesn't feel quite so lucky.

Word count: 1.25k

Warnings: None.

Shikaku didn’t know whether to be proud, irritated or resigned at the situation that had been suddenly dumped in his lap. The burn of your parents’ suspicious eyebrow raises had him leaning towards the latter two emotions, but the happy purrs his son was letting at his feet, massaging his baby Obsessions hands in his own, tipped the scale back towards proud.

He still couldn’t believe that his son, barely five years old, had already found his obsession. He had been dreading the day this happened, remembering the way his own father had had to reign him in when he fell for Yoshino, and anticipating an older Shikamaru giving him some good old-fashioned karma. But it happening this soon wasn’t something he had predicted, nor something he was ready for. Even in his worst-case imaginings, he had thought about a hormonal fifteen-year-old Shikamaru, never a five-year-old that had only just started learning how to control his emotions.

Shikaku sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. The whole situation was troublesome.

“I understand that this is shocking, it is a surprise to us as well, Naras rarely find their obsessions this young,” his wife explained to your parents.  He was so glad she was here to help him handle this. “But it isn’t something that can be taken back, nor something that can be stopped, so our best course of action is to figure out how we’re going to move forward.”

“This isn’t our first-time hearing about the Nara obsession instinct,” your mother said, seemingly the more relaxed one of your two parents, if the way your father was perched on the edge of the sofa like a tightly coiled spring was anything to go by. “But we had planned on only allowing sleepovers once they turned eight, so hearing about the expectation of sleepovers so suddenly isn’t easy to digest. I don’t understand why playdates can’t suffice.”

Shikaku tuned out Yoshino’s response, knowing that she would handle everything while ruffling as few feathers as possible. Well, provided your parents remained civil and open-minded. If they started demanding things that would hurt Shikamaru, Shikaku would have to pull her back before she decided violence was the best way to solve the problem. But seeing as the coast was clear for the moment, he turned his gaze towards his only son.

Shikamaru still had a tight grip on your hand, but his full attention was on your face now. He was leaning in just a little too close as you spoke, but you didn’t seem to mind. At least the silver lining was that Shikamaru had picked a relaxed baby alpha to obsess over.

“Your hair is very pretty,” you said quietly, a little smile on your face. “I like it.”

Furious purrs erupted from Shikamaru, his little face flushing in pride. Shikaku watched with amusement as Shikamaru immediately used his free hand to try and pull his hair out of his ponytail. His tiny fingers fumbled for a moment, but he eventually got it loose and yanked it out, pulling a few strands out along with it without so much as a flinch.

Shikaku remembered that feeling all too well, the way the desire to please Yoshino, make her happy with him, overshadowed everything else, even pain. When he first chose her, he would have been able to walk over a field of glass without flinching if he thought it would make her smile.

“You can touch it if you want,” Shikamaru said, practically vibrating with excitement as he leant his head forward, his now loose hair falling forwards towards you. “I don’t mind.”

“Wow, so soft!” you exclaimed, running your fingers through his hair. “Do you wash it with fairy dust?”

“No, just shampoo, but I also use conditioner,” Shikamaru announced proudly, pushing his head into your hand like a cat.

Shikaku smothered a snort. He imagined that Shikamaru would no longer roll his eyes and try to get out of using conditioner at bath time, something he was sure would delight his wife.

“We just can’t agree to that many nights with them away from home, away from us, they’re our child,” your mother said, just as Shikaku turned one ear back to the main conversation. “We might be able to divide the four nights in half though. We could have Shikamaru stay with us for two nights, but we’d need support navigating their relationship because we don’t know what’s normal or-“

Confident that things were going well enough that he wouldn’t have to restrain his wife, Shikaku turned back to his son and the baby alpha sitting on the floor beside him.

“Can I plait your hair, please?” you asked his son, still idly petting him.

Only yesterday, the same question had come from Ino, although the tone had been a little more demanding, and his son had rolled his eyes, refused, called Ino troublesome and gone to hide upstairs to take a nap.

His response now was like night and day. Shikaku watched his son’s face light up, his head bobbing up and down instantly.

“Yes, yes, whenever you want,” he said, falling over himself to turn around and present you with the back of his head. He scooted backwards until he was almost on your lap and then folded his hands together on his lap, waiting with barely contained excitable energy.

It was so strange seeing his son like this. He was used to his lazy petulance when face with chores, the competitive gleam in his eyes when they played shogi, his thinking face when he was presented a new puzzle or mystery, but this tidal wave of genuine, open affection and eagerness for companionship was something Shikaku had never seen.

“Thanks! You’re the best, Shika!” you said, separating his hair into three parts.

His son looked ready to ascend to a different plane of being.

This whole thing was a mess, Shikaku though, rubbing at his eyes. He wasn’t looking forward to the hundreds of tantrums he’d have to diffuse, the weird impulses he’d have to redirect or having to host another five-year-old in his house all the time. However, the pure happiness radiating off his son was more than worth all the bad. He was glad that Shikamaru would have his obsession with him for his entire life, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but hopefully Shikamaru would be used enough to his obsession and coping mechanisms that the hormonal nightmare of teenagerhood wouldn’t be so bad.

Shikaku gave the two children one more glance, vaguely amused to see Shikamaru silently mouthing ‘my alpha’ over and over again as you focused on plaiting his hair, before properly turning back to the conversation he was supposed to be a part of.

Everything would work out; he would make it so.

…

BONUS:

“Well, we should probably head off now,” your father said, standing up, holding the newly drawn up custody arrangement. “We’re having dinner with my parents tonight. Darling, time to leave, go and get your shoes on, please.”

“WHAT?! NO!”

“Here we go,” Shikaku sighed, trying to intercept Shikamaru before he got a hold on the baby alpha. Too late.

“Shikamaru, let go, they have to go home,” he said, kneeling down on the floor with them both.

“No!” his son whined, tears gathering on his water line. “They’re my alpha! Mine!”

“Shikamaru, that wasn’t a suggestion. Let them go.”

Shikamaru only growled at him, so Shikaku just started pulling him off you by the scruff.

“Shikamaru, stop struggling, stop- Ow! You little- He just bit me!”

[igotanidea]

Choice: Jason Todd x reader

Jason and Y/N had been dating for a while now, but as of late he could hardly recognize her.

The shy and innocent girl turned into a bitch boss, confident, wearing high heels and expensive clothes, buying lingerie and going all high class.

Obviously, he did not complain, seeing her all powerful and sexy and when he got to slowly peel that lingerie off her during intimacy, but she suddenly started flying so high above him it was not good for his confidence. Confidence that was already shuttered.

***

She was sitting in front of the dressing table’s mirror, doing her hair and makeup, because shockingly, she decided she wanted to "party". She never wanted to "party" before. And he got a little alerted when she put on the red lipstick and eye shadow that made her look like a million dollars, while knowing what kind of men were regulars at the club she was heading into.

“I thought we could spent some time together—” he started hesitantly, not sure how to approach the elephant in the room. On one hand he wanted to just tie her to that stupid chair to make her stay with him, on the other – she’s never been more radiant and happy and ruining it would make him hate himself.

“And I thought you were going on patrol –“ she retorted fixing her hair and making a few flirty faces to the mirror.

“I was, but—”

“Then I believe those two are mutually exclusive, don’t you?”

“I could ditch it tonight.” He sighed, getting a little desperate. Abandoning his duties was an impossible choice but he would do it. For her. Just to convince her to stay.  

“And yet, we both know you won’t.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s okay Jason. Let’s just go with the night like we both planned, okay?” She reached for her bag and high heels and he suddenly felt like a reprimanded schoolboy.

“I miss you—” he almost whimpered. The big scary 6’0 225 Ibs Red Hood Jason Todd whimpered. And only for a second a glimpse of something familiar (concern? affection?) reflected in her eyes. She opened her mouth, raised her hand as if trying to cup his cheek –

Jason closed his eyes, waiting for the long-awaited reminder of what used to be between them—

It never happened.

Instead he heard the door closing in on him as she left and he was left alone.

Again.

Without as little as a kiss goodbye a single word of farewell, a squeeze of his hand or – truly – anything.

Just silence and coldness. He was used to it once. But when she had come into his life turning all the misery into happiness he got used to the warmth. And now, being deprived of it after tasting was hurtful and stung more than any cut or bruise he could get on his body.  

***

The patrol wrapped up around 3 am. And she was still not back In their little apartment. But the bottles were.

Without thinking, tossing his red hood helmet aside, Jason opened the fridge and took a greedy sip of beer. Then another. And another.

And then the time and space became completely irrelevant as the pile of empty bottles on the floor kept growing and his head was spinning.

She didn’t love him anymore.

He wasn’t good enough for her. Obviously.

He was a walking mess while she was out having the time of her life, getting men’s attention which she duly deserved. Men who would be better for her then him. Better than a scum coming back home bloodied and bruised, dragging her into troubles and constantly putting her into danger.

He should just forget about her. Leave her be.

She’s so beautiful and kind and sweet and innocent.

He should just forget about her and let her live her best life.

Even if it means leaving her.

Maybe he was destined to be alone after all. With all the blood and pain he left behind him, how could he ever expect anything more than loneliness and karma?

Jason reached for the nearest empty bottle and with the loud, almost animalistic roar threw it onto the wall making the glass shatter into million tiny pieces on the floor. But there was no way he would stop there. Shakily, drunkenly moving to a sitting position, he threw everything off the table. Watching as the tableware broke and not having any remorse about it. Then throwing the table upside down. It seemed like the alcohol made him act on his darkest self, pushing him to break and destroy. After all he was just that. Destroyer. A monster.

And when he almost started tearing off the couch his hands stumbled upon his phone on the pillow.

And the rage turned into deep sorrow.

Not so surprising given how wasted he was.

So maybe it shouldn’t also have been surprising that his brain figured out it would be a good idea to call Y/N and threw all of his emotions into her face.

Uh-huh…

***

“Jason?” her voice hit his ears, barely audible above the sound of club music and the crowd of people.

“Y/N—”

“Wait- wait a second I need to –” for a second she turned inaudible almost as if she was walking. “Now…” the silence that fell in the background only confirmed the previous theory “what’s going on?”

“Y/N—” his voice turned into a drunken sob, the resolve to have a proper, adult-like conversation melted like a snow in the sun.

“Jason?” Y/N became alerted and it was quite obvious even though he could not see her face expression.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!”

“What?”

“You’re always leaving me… you are never home and we used to be so close together… so w-wh-why?”

“Jason, listen to me-“

“No! No you listen to me, I am here all alone and I probably deserve it, but I still love you so much and I don’t want to lose you but if you want to break up then-“

“Jason are you drunk?!”

Unbeknown to her, Jason took a look around the apartment, taking in the pile of glass and mess he left behind.

“What did you do?” The longer he was silent, the more she knew he was wasted like hell.

“I miss you-“

“How much did you drink?”

“I don’t know –“

“How much Jason?!”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Where are you? Are you home? Just tell me you’re home and not patrolling or anything.”

“I’m home…” he slurred.

“Great. Just stay there. I have to go now.” Y/N nodded head to her company signaling she would join them in just a minute, making a carefree face as if she wasn’t just on the phone with her desperate, drunk, brokenhearted boyfriend.

“Y/n!”

“I’m serious. Stay where you are.”

“Please… please come home… we can fix whatever broke us… I need you, I want us to be us again… please…”

“Jason, just stay where you are and don’t do anything stupid-“

Those were the last words he heard before she disconnected, stepping on his poor, fragile heart. He couldn’t fight anymore, letting himself drift to darkness.

Alone…

***

It was almost midday when he opened his eyes next time. The sun shone through the window, immediately making him squirm with a groan. He had a terrible hangover and everything was too much. But the small changes that happened to magically take place overnight didn’t escape him.

Surprisingly he was covered with a warm, soft blanket he couldn’t remember putting on. Was he that drunk that it influenced and/or damaged his brain? What else did he do? Did he hurt someone? Did he--?

Oh.

He called her.

He called Y/N.

What did he say? Holy shit, did he break up with her? He couldn’t recall anything, but whatever words fell out of his mouth couldn’t have been good.

She didn’t deserve it.

He had to clear that misunderstanding out. Make her realize that he was more than just a weepy man-child and –

Ugh!

His head and eyes were killing him.

But even through heavy eyelids and pounding pain he noticed that the bottles were gone from the floor and table, the broken pieces of tableware cleared. The entire apartment seemed different somehow and not only because of the tidy, though he couldn’t capture why. And – there was also an ibuprofen and a glass of water on the nightstand and a strangely alluring smell of coffee, eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen.

What was happening?

He groaned, massaging his temples and the sound caused an audible shift in the kitchen, then the opening of the bedroom door and Y/N peeking inside. Looking just like the girl he used to know. Without vivid makeup and flashy, revealing outfit, with a natural face, innocent eyes, dressed simply in leggings and his shirt, with her hair down.

So sweet and beautiful. His angel and salvation that must have been only an imagination, cause there was no chance she was actually here after whatever shit he dropped on her last night.

“Hey….” The angel whispered, closing the curtains shut so the light wouldn’t irritate his eyes. “How are you feeling?” Soft, warm palm landed on his forehead to check his temperature. “Gave me quite a scare last night. Came here and found you drunk with all those bottles and mess and –“

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yeah, yeah baby, it’s me. Hope you weren’t expecting anything else?”

“Is this a dream….” He muttered closing his eyes, enjoying the way her touch was bringing him so much comfort.

“I assure you it’s real…”

“I’m sorry—" Jason tried to open his eyes, but dropped the attempt the moment they started watering.

“Hush… Don’t think about it now” Y/N kissed his forehead tenderly “Just rest…”

Despite the fact that she was so loving and soft and acting just like the girl he fell for, it also made him wary and confused. Was this another game she was playing? Was this just another way to break his already broken heart?

“We have to talk. Now.” Not giving a damn about her protests, he sat up straight, opening eyes and turning serious. “The hell’s been going on with you lately? Why the fancy friends and fancy parties and fancy lifestyle? Cause you being a high-class girlfriend may have so charm, but not if you’re also turning into a fucking mean girl!”

“Jason, listen I just—”

“No! No, you will fucking listen to me now!” Jason yelled, his weariness and hangover already forgotten as the rage took over. He needed explanation. He deserved it. And moreover, he demanded it. Cause if Y/N though he would just let her fool around, toy with him, lie and deceive she was dead wrong. And he was way past begging for her attention.

“Jace-“ she whimpered, quickly realizing that her boyfriend was past convincing, the sudden fear reflecting in his eyes. Good. Very good. She was supposed to be scared. Terrified. Cause now he was going to confront her and he was not taking any bullshit.

“You will talk now.” Her wrist ended in his iron grip. “Did you cheat on me?!”

“What?!” she whimpered

“Did you cheat on me!?”

“NO!”

“Liar!” he yelled, causing her to start sobbing.

“Jason, Ja-jason, please.. it was just work- and I was getting into a new role and – and-“

“Liar!” he yelled again.

“But when you called me last night and said all those things—" she sobbed and he stopped “when you said you missed me and you were lonely and –“ Jason blushed, realizing he must have made quite a fool out of himself in that conversation he couldn’t even remember. “I just dropped the whole act and –”

“Don’t shit me Y/n.” he warned, though his heart was already yearning to hug her, wipe her tears and make her feel safe.

“I’m not. I’m not. I swear… When I came home yesterday and saw you like this - God, Jason, I am so sorry baby—”

“No. No, please don’t apologize…” finally he pulled her to his chest, cradling her head and brushing her hair softly. “I did my shit too. Should have asked you what was going on instead of getting wasted and giving you a heart attack.”

“I should have just told you, instead of becoming a full-time bitch.”

“Yeah…” Jason sighed “guess we drifted apart, didn’t we?”

“I don’t want it. I never wanted it…”

“I know princess. Me neither. But now we have to figure out if we can move forward and be better.”

“We can.”

“It’s not something you can just decide on arbitrarily.”

“Are you trying to break up with me….?”

“No. But perhaps we didn’t take into consideration that dating would be hard work. So the question is whether we can put it in. And perhaps we should take some time to think about it.”

“Okay.” Though her heart was breaking she could see his point. Their relationship was messy and emotional and explosive. Constant rollercoaster. And maybe it was time to turn into adults and level the ride.  To find out whether they could work shit out and get stronger or break for good.

[drakoneve]

A Father’s Love

request: Hii!! I was wondering if you could do a aemond imagine where you are jace twin sister so you have the strong look! Viserys decided to marry you off to aemond to prevent the bloodshed and your first born a son comes out with the the dark brown hair and aegon starts teasing his brother about it because it’s like karma hit the greens about having a targaryean with a dark hair but aemond ends up protecting you and your child from all the comments coming from the greens. Thank you 🤍

pairing: aemond targaryen x y/n velaryon (strong)

word count: 2k

warning: mentions of pregnancy & childbirth, canon typical violence (protective aemond)

a/n: i think aemond’s son having the strong look would change his view of rhaenyra & her boys

When you were still but a girl your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, explained to you that you would have your husband picked out for you in an arranged marriage. You didn’t quite understand it then, but the picture became clearer as you got older. 

By the time you were one and ten your grandsire King Viserys had declared you would marry your uncle Aemond born of the same year. The arrangement came after the night of your aunt Laena’s funeral, when Aemond claimed Vhagar for his own and your younger brother Lucerys struck out his left eye.

You were close with Aemond when you were children, but after the night he lost his eye, Rhaenyra moved your family to Dragonstone. Your relationship with Aemond had been reduced down to letters over the last six years. He wrote once and he expressed his fear that you might not love him because of the scar on his face due to the response of the whispers from the Keep. You assured him something so trivial as an old wound would not deter the feelings you already held for him.

The only people you told about the letters you exchanged with Aemond was your twin, Jacaerys, and your mother. Jacaerys didn’t like the idea of you marrying your uncle at first, but when you read him some of the sweeter things Aemond had written you, Jacaerys decided your uncle wasn’t the worst man you could possibly marry. Rhaenyra didn’t mind her younger brother and was more concerned about what Alicent could do to you upon your return.

Your reunion with Aemond went profoundly well as you promised it would, and the two of you married within weeks of your return to King’s Landing. Though Rhaenyra, your brothers, and uncle/new step-father Daemon attended the wedding celebrations, they didn’t stay long after the celebrations concluded. You understood because of the tensions between your mother and Queen Alicent, but it didn’t make you miss your family any less.

Aemond helped, however, as he loved having you by his side at all times. He walked you to your lessons, invited you to watch him train, he accompanied you to dress fittings. With all the attention you’d been receiving from your proud husband it came as no surprise to anyone when Aemond announced at dinner one night that you were officially with child. 

From that moment on Aemond’s tendencies to keep a watchful eye on you even worse. Any moment he couldn’t remain by your side he assigned two of his very own hand picked Kingsguard knights to accompany you. Thankfully your pregnancy went as smoothly as possible, all things considered. You had mild nausea through the majority but eventually it relented and things were smooth from there.

Labor was long, and incredibly painful, so much so the maester advised if you’d squeezed any harder you’d have broken Aemond’s hand. Aemond had stayed by your side from the moment you informed him your labors had begun and refused to leave your side despite some of the arguing of the maester and most of the midwives. Finally after about fourteen hours, you gave birth to a healthy chubby, brown haired boy. 

So focused on the newborn babe laid contently on your chest you hardly registered that your mother-in-law Queen Alicent had entered the room. Despite being nothing but kind towards her, Alicent never made a move to return the same sentiment. 

But Aemond noticed. He watched as his mother’s face contorted into a look of disgust as she glared, glared down at the babe on your chest. He watched as his mother forced a smile on her face. Her dead eyes said everything Aemond needed to know.

“He’s a little darling,” Alicent forced through her fake smile. 

Soon after Taelon’s birth, rumors began spreading around the Keep of his legitimacy. Your lady in waiting, Lilian had been the first to mention the rumors to you one morning as she brushed and braided your hair. The most popular whisperers were ones along the lines of that your son had been conceived while Aemond was away or that you had laid with your brother Jacaerys instead.

You mentioned them to Aemond later that same day when you met him for tea, and he told you he’d already heard with them and was working towards finding the source of such blasphemy so it would be properly taken care of.

Almost a whole month later, however, and Aemond did not yet have the source. At least, that’s what he told you. The whole time he knew it was his own mother, Alicent, that was spreading the rumours throughout the Keep. For weeks he turmoiled in anguish and fury that resulted deep in his gut as he worked his mind for a solution. 

He couldn’t decide whether, or more accurately, just how to confront his mother on the subject. The news of the arrival of your mother and the rest of your family arriving in King’s Landing provided the well needed distraction for Aemond, and you.

You and Aemond await side by side as your family approaches, you with Taelon swaddled in your arms. Rhaenyra reaches you first, kissing your face several times before looking down to the babe in your arms. “Oh,” Rhaenyra cooes at your son. “He’s gorgeous, my dear. You’ve done wonderfully.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her, and offer her your son. She takes him in her arms happily. 

Jacaerys appears by your side and pulls you into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, sister.”

“And I, you, brother.” you whisper to him. 

Lucerys and Joffrey join the hug, but soon lurch away as you begin to ruffle their thick, dark hair. 

“You boys have grown into fine young men! I cannot believe how tall you all are,” you gape at your brothers. 

Aemond places his hand at the small of your back and pulls you into his side. “My wife is quite right, nephews. It pleases me to see the man my own son is sure to grow into.”

Jacaerys can’t hide the shock in his face as he studies his uncle for any malicious intentions. Lucerys grasps your hand like he did when he was first learning how to walk and would use you to support himself. Rhaenyra’s eyes widen at Aemond in shock and she looks to your for an answer. All you give her is a shrug as you take your son from her arms and look back to your family. Your mother, brothers, stepfather Daemon, standing with you, your husband, and newborn son. Something you once thought to be impossible, happening in front of your own eyes.

You knew after everything that happened between Aemond and Lucerys the night Aemond claimed Vhagar the dynamics in your family would never be the same. For a long time Aemond held a deep, vicious hatred for Lucerys. To be honest you didn’t exactly blame him. After Aemond finally opened up to you about some of his insecurities and frustrations regarding the loss of his eye and the scar that came as a result, and it helped you understand these fears and insecurities is what fueled his hatred for your brother. Over time, as you fell in love with Aemond even more and convinced him of your feelings, he began to feel less insecure.

The welcoming party disbursed as your family began to settle into the palace for their stay. Word of their arrival has spread throughout the Keep by now, and your grandsire Viserys ordered a large feast to celebrate not only the birth of your son, but the union of the entirety of House Targaryen under one roof. At first the plans made you anxious as you’d wanted a rather small dinner consisting of the royal family, but it seems there are other plans. 

Normally you would get ready for such events in the confines of your shared chamber with Aemond, but tonight you opted to join your mother and Daemon in their chambers. Rhaenyra asked for your help in choosing her hairstyle and accessories, an act you once cherished as a child. As you help your mother, Daemon coddles your newborn in his arms.

“He’s quite the charmer,” compliments Daemon, who is wrestling with the babe’s free flying foot. “have you chosen an egg for his cradle, tala (daughter)?”

“Not yet, uncle,” you shake your head. “Aemond wants us to pick it out together, and I haven’t had the chance to make it to the Dragonpit as of late.” You finish the parallel braids in your mother’s hair, securing them in place with delicate pins. 

“You must choose one before we leave,” he demands, not taking his eyes off your son. “I cannot, in good faith, leave my grandson knowing he has no dragon.”

Aemond appears in the chamber doorway dressed in his finest leathers. “I assure you, uncle, Taelon will have a dragon. I will make sure no son of mine goes without.”

You smile at him, taking him in for the glorious man he is. “Taelon is but a babe, sweet husband. He has no use for dragons except for our own right now.”

“Correct,” Aemond wraps one arm around your waist. “Though the sooner we choose an egg, the sooner the hatchling will come forth.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward to rest a reassuring hand in her younger brother’s shoulder. “Now's not the time to worry of such things. We’re here to celebrate Taelon.”

“Oh and celebrate we must,” you coo before scooping your son from Daemon’s arms. “Who wouldn’t want to celebrate such a handsome little face?”

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, everyone dining, drinking, dancing, and having fun. For the first time in a long time your family was collected in one room, children and all, enjoying themselves. It was well into the night when you excused yourself briefly to see Taelon to bed before returning.

You’d just settled yourself back into your seat next to Aemond when Aegon rose from his own chair. “I’d like to make a final toast,” he begins. “to Taelon, first of his name, may he grow to be handsome, healthy... and Strong.”

Aemond rises from his seat so fast the front legs lifted off the ground and it fell back onto the floor. “I’ll have your blasphemous tongue for that, ” he growled through gritted teeth. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword and he began to pull it from its sheath before rounding the side of the table to meet his brother.

“I dare you to repeat yourself.” Aemond hissed as he raised his sword to Aegon. The Kingsguard did not draw their swords, instead choosing to shield themselves and the eldest prince. “And it shall be the last thing you ever do.”

Alicent rushed towards her sons, getting in between Aemon and the Kingsguard. “That is enough!” the queen demanded, “Put away your sword, Aemond.”

You stand from your seat, tired of the insolence, and you join Aemond’s side. “Queen Alicent is right, husband. There is no need to sink yourself to such lows as this drunkard.”

The two of you returned to your chambers where Taelon slept soundly in his cradle under the watchful eyes of your lady in waiting and two guards Aemond picked for Taelon specifically. You dismissed all three, knowing the guards would take up their post outside your chamber doors. 

Aemond begins stripping down to his night clothes and you begin doing the same, keeping a watchful eye on your husband. You knew the rumors of Taelon not being Aemond’s son was beginning to get to him even though both of you knew there was no other contenders. 

As the two of you began to settle into bed, you scoot as close to Aemond as physically possible. He chuckles softly before wrapping you up in his arms. He kisses your forehead, then presses a string of soft kisses onto your hairline. 

“You should ignore your brother,” you whisper into the darkness. “He’s a fool who knows nothing of what it means to be a dutiful and loving father as you are. I’m confident Aegon doesn’t even know the twins’ names.”

Aemond laughs, “I suppose you’re right, my love...”

You sit up, placing your right hand on the pillow next to Aemond’s head for support. He reaches up to brush the long strands of your unbound hair that has fallen around your face. “What ails you, husband?”

He hesitates, eye searching your face for any sign of deceit. “I’m afraid of failing our son. Mine own father was never a constant in my life, and I fear this leaves me unable to father our son properly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you whisper. “I’ve seen the way you watch over him. I mean, the way you protected him tonight against Aegon’s words, that proves you are more than capable than watching over our son. I’ve never doubted you from the day I told you I was with child. From that day forth your only focus has been providing for and protecting your family. You’re an honorable man, Aemond. And the most capable father.”

Aemond rises to press your lips together in a quick kiss. When he lays back down he pulls you with him, resting your head on his chest. This way you can hear the hard thump of his heart beating in his chest, a sound so rhythmic and comforting you can’t help but be lulled by sleep.

[grapejuicestyless]

It Killed You Just The Same

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: He loved her, he loved everything about her. More than her looks, but how gentle she was. But when given the choice between killing her or letting them kill her, he had no choice.

She wore long brown boots, ones with clunky buckles at her ankles. Long socks poked out of the tops, thick and white, matching the crisp white dress she wore, covered in eyelet fabric that fell no more than past her upper thighs.

She looked the closest you could get to a lamb, and Harry deemed she was just as sweet as one too. He noted the dirt on her knees, probably from kneeling on the ground to tend to the animals that scurried by, and the wheat in her hair.

It seemed the longer she was around, the more life came around. It was like even the most dim creatures knew how gentle she was, how much she could give them. Harry always loved that about her, how somehow, with all the cruelty spat at her, she always had more love to give. He decided she was better than most, motherly to anyone smaller than her, all the squirrels and kittens, the children and the wasps. It didn’t matter to her, her love was all the same, like a real life princess.

“Y/n/n!” Harry called out her name across the grassy field, and as she turned to him he swore all the air was stripped from him. He felt guilty for even going through with it, but her innocence was worth so much more than anything. He’d heard about how sometimes people will sit with their pets as they die, let them lay in their lap and comfort them through the darkness until the pain simmers out, make them think it’s not forever. Harry figured Y/n deserved that too.

“Harry!” She squealed, running over to him with a wife grin, her hands pulling at the ends of her dress even though the fabric was short enough to begin with. Her underwear peaked out from underneath. Harry usually would have scolded her playfully for being so forgetful, for nearly flashing the birds flying overhead, but he decided he couldn’t even fake being angry at her today.

Her hug felt like a blanket of warmth on his skin, her hair done in braids that fell down her back. He wished it had been down so he could have ran his hands through it one last time, but he stuck his nose as close to her scalp as he could and memorized her smell.

“I missed you.” She told him, giggling against his body. Her skin felt so soft in comparison to his, her clean cut cuticles and baby pink nails so beautiful in comparison to his calloused palms and bloody knuckles. He wondered how something so pure could have fallen into his lap at all.

He considered himself awfully lucky to have been given her, for her to have loved him like she did, because he was certain he loved her twice as hard, but now he saw it as a curse. His karma for all his bad doings. Because the world was cruel, and a man like him could never have a woman like Y/n. So it made him choose. He could take her, or the men who he tried so hard to keep her away from would have her.

“I missed you more baby, how was your day?” Harry asked, his words muffled by his lips pressing against the top of her head. Her smile spread against his neck where she kept her head buried.

The leather around his waist felt harsher than before, the very belt Y/n had helped alter for him, the holes punched in by an old screwdriver and a hammer that laid untouched in the junk drawer. In fact, it felt too tight now, a belt that was usually falling off of him, suffocating him until he felt purple.

He hoped the feeling of his hand rubbing her back distracted her mind from the feeling of his other pulling the knife from its pocket that hung on the side of the belt.

“It was awfully warm this morning so I spent most of the day leaving our extra jars outside with water for the animals. I swear I heard some chipmunks panting earlier today.” She joked, and a small laugh rumbled through my chest.

“I bet, baby. Thank goodness they have you to look after them.” He entertained, his arm raising to wrap around her back, the butt of the knife pressed into his palm, just barely touching the curve of her back.

“Honestly, Harry it has me thinking.” She spoke softly, practically mumbling now in the comfort of his touch. It seemed he always had that effect over her, lulling her into a state of vulnerability with him, baring everything for him to see.

His hand shifted, the cold edge creating a small gap between the eyelets in Y/n’s pretty white dress. Harry could only hum as his hand shook, the knife so close to her skin, he wondered if she could feel the coolness of it radiating onto her skin.

“I wanna be a mother.”

Her words hit him deep, but it was too late. Blood poured from where the handle lay, the blade hidden somewhere underneath her skin, stuck between the fabric of her dress. The delicate whiteness of it stained a deep satin, dripping in a line down the center of her back. But she didn’t move, she didn’t scream, she didn’t beg. She didn’t even gasp.

Her arms slowly wrapped around Harry tightly, her lips pressing against his skin tenderly.

“No, no, no.” He mumbled quickly, unwilling to believe he ever had the willpower to follow through. He tried to pull her from his body, willing whoever was watching over him to have the power to give him the gift of looking into her lovely eyes just one last time.

“No, please, darling.” He pleaded, pulling her off of him frantically. Her eyes were crinkled in the corners and her lips in a soft smile. She looked defeated, but not because of him, like her own body was giving out on her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. I had to, I had to save you, I’m sorry.”

He told her over and over again to make her understand, but he was a fool because it was all wasted breath. Of course she knew, she’d known it from the second it pierced her skin. Her lover was rough, cruel, violent, and vicious, but he was never mean, and he always was honest when he said he loved her.

“I love you.” She promised him in a thin gasp, her body lying against his in a final hug, and thats the way she went out. So fitting for such a loving woman to have gone out in the loving embrace of her lover, her soulmate. His hands drenched with the blood he never wanted to face, and his knife stuck in his back. He only realized as her heart stopped and her thinking ceased that the knife laid right where her heart would be just a few inches back.

But he had just missed it, in the end. He had missed her heart and he was glad he did. He only hoped as he sat in the dirt holding her in his lap like a wounded doe that in some other life, he was able to give her everything, and the birds that would shake him from his nightmares would have instead been their children he would never meet.

[poppylovestowrite]

Are you okay with doing Karma x female reader period comfort?

Period Comfort With Karma Akabane

"Can we not go anywhere for date night tonight?"

You were hesitant to make this call to your boyfriend and say those words. You enjoy date nights with Karma. And that's only because you really like him. So, to try and cancel a date with him upsets you. And for a second there you tried to convince yourself that these cramps aren't so bad, until you felt another strong wave of pain.

You gritted your teeth and clutched your stomach.

Okay, nope, you have to cancel it. 

"Aw, are you getting bored of me already?" Karma says playfully.

"We both know I can never get bored with you," you chuckled, rubbing your belly. Your smile quickly faded as you tapped your finger, trying to see what kind of excuse you could come up with.

Yeah, you're not telling him you're on your period.

There's no way you can. You have three brothers who would always gag at the mention of it and make fun of it. Even the boys at your school can't stomach the mention of it. And since your relationship with the redhead is fairly new, stuff like mentioning periods made you feel shy and scared he would make fun of you.

You winced as you placed your hand over your stomach when you felt the sharp pain surging through you.

The small whimper that escaped you was heard through the phone.

"... You okay?"

"Not really..." You tell him softly. "That's why I wanted to cancel tonight's date."

"Are you sick? Is that it?"

"Um..." You shyly look down. "Not exactly."

"Are you on your period or something?"

The colour red burns your cheeks. Your silence pretty much answered Karma's question.

"Oh, is that that? Haha," Karma chuckles which prompts you to clutch your phone tighter, waiting for some typical jokes boys give. "I was only guessing. Geez, you had me worried for a second. You don't have to be embarrassed."

You blinked and unclutched your phone.

"You..." You furrowed your brows. "You're not going to make fun of me?"

"Over what? That's like me making fun of someone for wanting to take a piss. My jokes are far more clever than that." 

"Some of them can be a little immature," you sighed. But you felt a sense of relief that Karma was mature enough to not make any unnecessary comments about periods, despite how unfiltered he can be. Man, you have good taste in guys.

"So, it is okay if we don't go out tonight?" You asked, a bit sadly. "These cramps are killing me." You were able to confess. 

"It's cool," Karma said. "Want me to come over there instead?"

"Huh?"

"I know you still want to see me~" Karma sang. 

You smiled and blushed. What a cocky guy, but what he's saying is true. And as arrogant as he is, you know he wants to see you just as badly as you do. 

"Okay." You responded a bit too shyly as you twirled your hair. "You can come over."

"Great." You can hear his cute smile in his voice. "See you soon~"

When you put your phone away, you hug your pillow and let out a happy squeal all while blushing. 

***

Karma's house isn't that far from yours. It should have taken him about 10 minutes. But it's been over 20 minutes and still no sign of your boyfriend.

Where is he? You would expect him to be rushing over here just to see you. 

'I hope he didn't get into a fight.' 

Because if he did, then you were going to have to wait a bit longer for him. Even if you were super impatient and wanted to see him right now.

You were in the middle of making yourself some hot tea when you heard the doorbell ring. You instantly perked up. You didn't even finish pouring the hot water and ran towards the door and opened it, revealing the tall redhead. 

"Hey," Karma smiled. "Did I keep you waiting?"

"Yes." You pouted much to Karma's enjoyment. "Don't tell me you've gotten into a fight."

Karma chuckled. "Nope." Your boyfriend answered your question by lifting a white bag. "I had to get a few things."

"Oh."

Your heart bounced as you realized why he took so long. Before coming here, Karma must have stopped by a convenience store to buy something for you. Inside, you can a couple of bars of chocolate, a bento box and for some reason, you can see a small Kirby action figure. It's one of those toys you get from a toy dispenser.

"Um... Why a Kirby toy?" You chuckled with confusion but with amusement. 

"So you won't feel like you're the only bloated one." Karma smiles innocently with no shame. 

You frowned. Even though Karma is not going to make fun of you for having a period, he would still find ways to tease you in a light-hearted manner. But at least it won't come from a place of ignorance or immaturity like some of the guys you know.

"Why did I ever agree to go out with you?" You muttered. 

"Because you've been crushing on me half a year." Karma smirks smugly.

As annoyed as you were, his comment did cause your cheeks to burn a little. 

You pressed a finger against his chest and gave him a small glare.

"You should be thankful that you're cute."

Karma playfully sticks his tongue out, basically telling you, 'I know.' 

You invited Karma in and led him to the living room. It wasn't until Karma sat on the couch next to you he began to question the rare silence in your house. Because of your three younger brothers, the place was normally noisy. Not that Karma really minded, because it meant the two of you could be in your room for privacy. 

"You're home alone?"

"Yeah." You casually answered settling the bag on the table in front of you. "My parents are working, and my brothers are all with their own friends. 

"Is that so~?"

Karma tossed the controller over his shoulder, before tackling you against the couch just as you were about to take out the bento box. You squealed at the action but welcomed the physical contact, especially when he began to pepper soft kisses down your cheek and neck. 

Karma didn't stop at kissing though. You felt him lift your hoodie until your belly button was visible and started to tickle you. 

"Karma s-stop."You giggled in between playful protests. "That tickles!"

Karma did stop, but only to tell you something. He hovers over you, smiling devilishly. 

"If you told me you were home alone, I would have come over much sooner~" 

You chuckled. "My bad."

You placed a hand over the back of his neck to pull him for a kiss. He kissed you more softly and gently this time. His hands remained on your skin, but instead of tickling you, he began to rub your belly. The sweet gesture made your heart flutter. And for a moment there, your cramps weren't bugging you as much.

You would have continued to kiss your boyfriend, but the bento box Karma brought you hasn't left your thoughts, prompting you to feel hungry. Also, you still had to drink your tea. 

While Karma let you eat, he decided to put on a random comedy movie for you both to enjoy. And for extra comfort, your boyfriend puts an arm around you, keeping you close to him. He would sometimes play with your hair, give you soft kisses, and even rub your belly every time he heard you whimper in pain.

"How are you holding up?"

"Feeling like my friend Kirby over there." You lazily pointed at the pink character. "And bleeding a lot." You mumbled. 

"I think I should start calling you my little ketchup package every month," Karma said in a playful tone as he pressed you further against him. 

"Please don't call me that," you grimaced as Karma laughed.

Ugh. Your boyfriend is super annoying. 

Well, at least he isn't as annoying as these stupid cramps. 

[idkwhatever580]

Karma’s A Bitch

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: Natasha pranks reader without knowing r is petty and will double back on the prank war with much more force

Warnings: angst, some crying, fake blood, fake period, pain, pranks :)))

Pronouns: unspecified I think? but AFAB

A/N: I definitely did not take inspiration from a certain person that totally isn’t named jojo siwa 😅 guys I swear I think I’m funny

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s pov

Natasha and I got into a little bit of a scuffle earlier. I finished off the peanut butter and she couldn’t make a peanut butter sandwich (gross)

So I kinda was a little bratty and she was mad. I feel really bad now and I know she won’t be mad at me because that’s just how we are but I’m going to apologize.

I walk to the living room where she and Wanda are not really watching a show. Well. Wanda is crocheting and Natasha is playing on her phone. So I walk to her and sit on her lap.

She looks up at me and I say

“I’m sorry nat. I shouldn’t have gotten so stubborn about the peanut butter”

She smiles and I know I’m in the clear and she says

“That’s okay baby. Thank you for apologizing and I also want to say sorry. I realize that it’s not that big of a deal.”

I smile and kiss her and say

“So we’re all good?”

She nods her head and says

“All is forgiven.”

Natasha looks at her watch and says

“Oh! I have to go”

I furrow my eyebrows and say

“Go where?”

She moves me off her lap and says

“I have an appointment at 12:00”

I nod my head and pout my lips for a kiss and she leans down to softly kiss me goodbye

“I love you”

I say as she leaves and she says

“Mhm bye babe”

I furrow my eyebrows when she doesn’t say it back and I think maybe she didn’t hear me

“Nat? What time are you getting back?”

“Around 1 or 2 o’clock”

I nod my head and say

“Okay be safe, I love you”

I put a bit more volume to the I love you. And she nods her head and says

“I’m always safe. Bye. Bye wanda”

She waves bye to Wanda and walks out without ever saying i love you back to me

I try to think why she would do that. Before I can dig myself too deep into my thoughts Wanda cuts in and says

“Uh- what was that about?”

I look at her and say

“I don’t know. I tried twice and she wouldn’t say it back”

Wanda sits up and sets her crochet down

“Is she mad at you? Is everything alright?”

I shrug my shoulders and say

“You heard her, she forgave me. Did it sound genuine?”

She nods her head and says

“She is also not the type to just leave without saying I love you to you. At least I don’t think so”

I shake my head and say

“No. Even if we’re fighting she always says I love you. She never leaves without resolving it. I know she’s only going for an hour but still.”

Wanda shakes her head and says

“Well. Maybe she forgot”

I nod my head trying to convince myself of that too but I leave to my room and spend the whole hour overthinking about it. I end up crying from all my overthinking and Natasha walks in an hour later and says

“What’s wrong baby?”

She immediately runs to me and holds me and I sob into her neck and say

“You don’t love me anymore!”

She shakes her head and says

“No baby! No I was pranking you to get you back for eating my peanut butter!”

I sniffle and tears are still running but I look at her and say

“Really?”

She nods her head and says

“I love you so so much baby. I just wanted to mess with you a bit”

I shove her shoulder a tad and say

“That was mean!”

She chuckles and I glare at her and say

“Did you forget what happened to Tony when he pranked me?”

Her eyes widen and her face goes a bit pale.

Last year Tony thought it was a good idea to make me think I was getting kicked off the avengers. He brought fury into it and everything.

Obviously it ended in tears and stuff.

The next morning after the prank he woke up with no eyebrows and green hair. And I keyed one of his hundreds of cars. And wrote “fuck you” on it. (One of the cheapest cars he owns don’t worry I’m not crazy)

It was really funny to me and the others but he never messed with me again.

I smirk at her even though my eyes are still a bit blurry from crying and I say

“You should have thought about that one.”

She shakes her head and says

“You can prank me back as long as it doesn’t involve breaking or ruining something”

I nod my head and say with an evil grin

“Deal. But you’ll never see it coming and don’t forget. The wise JoJo Siwa once said ‘karma’s a bitch. You should have known better’”

She pushes my shoulder and says

“You’re so dumb”

I giggle a bit at my joke and Natasha joins in with laughter until we’re laughing a lot.

——————————————————————————

It’s been a week and Natasha finally let her guard down. She thinks I forgot or something. I didn’t. I’m getting her back today.

I know it’s kind of insensitive to do this prank but it’s the only one I can think of that she won’t immediately guess it’s a prank.

Yes. It’s a period prank. I know what happened in the red room but she says it doesn’t affect her. Like the period part.

I feel like it’d be different if I was like making fun of her or something but I’m just gonna pretend I bled a lot.

Natasha had only a few periods before the “ceremony” she doesn’t actually remember any of it. So she doesn’t know much about it other than from what she’s seen with me and Wanda.

Usually my periods aren’t bad. Thank goodness. Yeah I get cramps but I don’t always throw up. Okay maybe they’re bad. But it’s really the cramps that are the bad parts. I usually have like a regular to super flow.

I woke up early for me. Natasha is already training at her usual time. I have about thirty minutes until she comes back after her gym shower.

I get up and grab the fake blood I bought earlier and I wipe it on my shorts. I put it all over and then I sit down on the bed where I’m gonna be “sleeping”

I make it look like I’m bleeding out or something serious and then I hide the fake blood bottle in my bedside table. Thankfully I didn’t get any fake blood on my hands so it doesn’t give me away.

I lie down and pretend to sleep. Then Natasha comes in and does her morning routine with me. She comes over and lies on top of me softly to wake me up.

I immediately cringe in feigned pain and she pulls back a bit. She hovers over me and brushes my hair out of my face and says

“Baby? Are you okay?”

I don’t answer and she says

“Y/n?”

I open my eyes and pout at her and try to say something but I grab my stomach in pain and groan

“What’s going on baby? Do you feel sick?”

I shake my head and frown and say

“Cramps”

She sighs and nods her head and says

“Have you started?”

I shrug my shoulders and say

“I think I start tomorrow”

She nods her head and says

“I’ll go get you a heat pack”

I nod my head and she pulls away and kisses my forehead and says

“I’ll be right back okay?”

I nod my head and she walks to the bathroom to grab my heat pad.

Once she’s out of sight I pull the covers up a bit to make it look like I just looked and I say

“Nat!?”

She comes in and says

“Yeah?”

I put on my best panic face and say

“Natty I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to!”

She comes over to me quickly and sees the blood and she freezes.

“Nat?”

She clicks into her help mode and says

“Okay baby. Something is wrong. We need to get you to medbay”

I shake my head and say

“No I just- I just bled through my shorts.”

Natasha shakes her head and says

“No y/n. That’s not just bleeding through your shorts…”

She hesitates

“Right?”

I shake my head and say

“It’s fine nat this has happened before”

Her eyes go wide and she says

“You mean this exact thing has happened more than once?!”

I nod my head nonchalantly and say

“Can you just help me get cleaned up?”

She freezes trying to make sense of everything and nods her head.

She picks me up and carries me to the bathroom.

“Do you need help?”

I shake my head and she steps out. I smirk knowing I put another bottle of fake blood in the bathroom and I quickly grab it and sit on the toilet and pour some in there to make it look like I bled even more. I put the bottle away and sit down and prepare to freak out.

Natasha barges in and says

“I just called Wanda and she said this isn’t normal. Why would you lie to me?!”

I take this as my chance and I look up at her with a dazed frown and thankfully I somehow managed to make myself look sickly. She furrows her eyebrows and says

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

She walks up to me and I show her the toilet and she gasps.

“Is it bad?”

I ask. Before she can respond I sway a bit to the side to make it look like I’m about to pass out.

Wanda bursts into the room and comes close to me as Natasha grabs me softly to help balance me

“Oh my god! Y/n! Natasha this is not okay we need to get her to medbay immediately!”

I grab Natasha’s arm and say

“Why am I bleeding so much?”

She looks at me and says

“I don’t know baby but this is serious. Let’s go”

She tries to pick me up but I push her hands away and say

“Let me get up. It hurts to be carried.”

She reluctantly nods her head and says

“Wanda get Bruce to get ready for when we get there.”

Right before Wanda leaves I say

“Wait!”

I stand up tall and then randomly start doing the jojo siwa karma dance and say

“Karmas a bitch! You shoulda known better!”

And Natasha and Wanda look at each other then back at me and I say

“You just walked the prank!”

Natasha stands up and says

“What?”

I look at her and say

“It was a prank dummy. I told you I’d get you back. You know I don’t mess around with pranks”

She lets out a sigh of relief knowing I’m not actually dying and she then gets a bit mad and says

“You got that shit on everything! You’re so dead”

I giggle and say

“But it was a good one right?”

She glares at me but when I give her my puppy eyes she kind of scoffs with a smile and looks away and says

“Yeah. It was pretty good. Even if I thought you were bleeding out”

I smirk and say

“I’m sorry. I love you baby”

I go for a hug but she stiff arms me and says

“Not until you clean every single thing you got blood on up”

I drop my head and say

“Okay. You’re not mad at me are you?”

She laughs a bit and says

“Oh no I’m pissed. You’re sleeping on the couch for that one”

I pout and nod my head and Wanda says

“By the way. You’re a bitch. I thought you were actually dying. I still love you though hoe”

I giggle at my best friend and say bye as she leaves

Then I look at Natasha and say

“I love you”

She nods her head and says

“I love you too baby. Now get cleaning or else you’ll be on the couch for a month”

I widen my eyes and run to clean myself and everything else up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I finish cleaning up and I go out to the kitchen and sit next to Natasha on a barstool who is now eating a peanut butter sandwich.

“Are you still mad at me?”

She looks at me surprised and says

“Why would I be mad at you?”

I furrow my eyebrows and say

“Because I did a mean prank?”

She chuckles a bit and says

“Oh. Yeah I was a bit frustrated but I was never mad. I don’t think I can be mad at you for that. I should have seen it coming”

I smirk and say

“Yeah. I did promise that. But thank you for caring about me.”

She smiles and says

“I really thought you were crazy when you said it was normal.”

I smile and say

“I am pretty crazy”

She sets her sandwich down and says

“I love you baby”

I smile and kiss her softly and say

“I love you more”

She smirks and says

“I love you most”

We’re in a battle for the love now. But I have the winning hand

“I loved you first.”

She frowns and says

“Dang it. That’s unfair. You can’t use that against me!”

I smile and rub my nose softly against hers and say

“Yes I most definitely can and I just did”

She narrows her eyes and says

“Fine. You win this time!”

I giggle and set my hand on her leg and say

“I win every time.”

She crosses her arms and says

“Yeah you do.”

I smile softly and then I get an impulsive thought and I jump up and Natasha starts

“What are you doi-”

I shake my hand down and stomp my foot and start yell singing

“KARMAS A BITCH I SHOULDA KNOWN BETTER!!”

She shakes her head and says

“What am I gonna do with you?”

I shrug my shoulders as I sit back down on the barstool.

“Throw me in the trash?”

She thinks about it and says

“Although that would be fun I think I might just throw you on the couch”

I smile and step back and say

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

Then I bolt and she says

“You’re never gonna win this game!!”

——————————————————————————

A/N this is totally off topic but I think I’m going to stop posting for a while. I’m having a hard time with family and stuff going on and I am about to graduate so a bunch of things are coming up. I love yall so much and I am still taking requests I just might be taking longer to post them. <3

[softshuji]

𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟏 | 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈

Title: The Hanma's

Summary: Hanma and you know those intimate moments are few and far between. But you always find a way to make the most of them. Back to masterlist here!

Cw: fem!reader, established relationship, reader and Shuji have kids, some suggestive content, pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, princess, mama, doll),some mentions of violence, this is kinda self indulgent lol. Reblogs appreciated!

Hanma Shuji has a morning voice like no other. It’s gritty, rough, laced with the aftermath of disuse and sleep, cigarettes and alcohol. It’s gravelly, inflected with the slight slur of fatigue, but it rolls over your body in such a way that makes the heat in your stomach thrum with energy. 

He swears the nights are deliberately shorter when he’s at home.

The mornings arrive too fast and the covers are pulled too quickly and he winces a little when the cold draught slips past the door left ajar and he thinks this is maybe the karma for spending so much time at work and never enough at home.

He pulls the blanket over his head and groans, his head of tousled curls now lopsided and flattened against the soft downy pillow.

Your arms come around him instinctively, your breath warm against the pronounced clavicles, the hollow of his throat flexing when he swallows.

The sleep grit is crusting in the corners of his eyes and he pulls up one hand to rub at them, the other pulling you closer against his chest, secretly relishing in the sigh of contentment he hears when you press a chaste and soft kiss to the dip in his collarbones.

‘Mmh Shuji,’ you say, your voice caught in the confines of fabric and cotton and sleep. The nicotine and alcohol, gunpowder and metal has left a scent on his skin, imprinted into the fine hairs that dance along his navel and you brush a hand along the toned ridge of his stomach, the muscles flexing under your soft touch. 

He loves this part of coming home the most, (among other things). The part where you sigh, his name leaving your parted lips and it sounds like a promise, like a heady rush of adrenaline, and your murmurs against his neck are the food for his daydreams in his absence.

‘Don’t wanna get up.’ A mumble that kisses your cheeks like a breeze, an inked hand snaking its way around the small of your back, past the harsh bruises, purpling spots that are red and pink smudges on your skin left just a few hours before under your loose shirt, past the bite marks that now rub against the swell of his bicep when it comes to rest on your shoulder. 

‘I know, but you gotta. We said we’d take them out, remember?’ Despite this, you make no move to leave, opting to bury your face in the curve of his neck, your lips moving over the telltale marks you’d left of your own, still lightly singing with a pulse of barely perceptible pain. Because Hanma Shuji knows you are as insatiable as he is, that your appetite for each other knows no bounds, that you drown in each other nearly every night, climbing out of the current when you come down from your high only to throw yourself in again. 

‘Mhm, you're giving me orders now Sweetheart?’ And the other inked hand comes to tilt your face to his, a thumb brushing the stray eyelash on your cheek, parted lips forming an O that he thinks is worth dying for. He thinks you are worth dying for, a single avenue of repentance, his single saving grace. 

You frown and tut under your breath, rolling your eyes in mock exaggeration, all faux annoyance and indignation. ‘You promised.’ You poke his side for effect, and it’s pathetic to admit your heart does a tiny leap when he giggles, teeth nipping at the flesh of your ear.

‘I know , I know, ‘m getting up birthday girl.’ And he cracks his eyes open to see you swirling a pattern onto the ink of sin, your eyes lidded and brow pinched as you fight the sleep still threatening to take you under. I love you, painted with your finger onto the same hands that the blood splashes on when he pulls a trigger, crusted under his nails and harder to wash off since the day he had met you. And smiling, always smiling at him, no matter how bad, no matter how many times he knows he breaks your heart. 

'Birthday girl huh?' you say now, a teasing and sleepy grin curling at your lips as you rest your cheek in his upturned band, big palm coming up to brush at your cheek. 

'Mhmm, my Princess's special day isn't it?'

'It is, you got something planned for me?'

'Might do, I guess you'll have to wait and see won't you?' 

You feign a tut under your breath. 'No clues?'

'No, be patient Pretty Girl.' And he brushes his thumb across the apple of your cheek, presses down on your lips till your teeth lightly bite down on it. 

'Mhm please?' You say now, a hand moving to rove over his bare chest, fingers tracing the whirl of fine hairs on his navel before he's catching your wrist between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside. 

'Behave yourself Sweetheart.' 

You huff playfully and It hits him for the barest of moments, how often he comes close to losing this. How the blood he’s wrought could catch up with him one day, the pile of bodies he has gladly crushed to reach his desires could grab his ankle and pull him down and that would be it. And you would break trying to put yourself together again. Maybe it’s selfish to keep you knowing that, knowing he could be cut from you like a loose end any day now. But, he is insatiable with you, redeemed by the constancy and feel of you when the weight is heavier than usual, when the burden threatens to-

‘Shuji?’ 

‘Mhm?’ His eyes are pulled to yours again, your bare face free of makeup, lips soft and warm and just as inviting as they usually are. 

‘You were lost in thought for a second. Everything okay?’ 

He knows you mean it from the heart, the heart you carry for the both of you, a necessary recompense for the blessing of being his, because a man like Hanma Shuji won’t get far carrying his heart on his sleeve. So you do it for him.

‘Fine Sweetheart,’ he says and tucks it all away, the insecurity, the thoughts, the edge that has softened since knowing you, cut glass that no longer stings or slices when touched. Today is about you, he thinks. His Princess, his Pretty girl, and all the ways he can show you he knows it all- the things you do, the ways you care that he never mentions,  hair swiped back when he bleeds out on the sofa, towels pressed to his forehead as he mumbles in fitful sleep. 

And then it happens.

The door flies open and your head lifts to see your two springy children burst into the room, their curls bouncing as they race across the carpet.

They climb onto your bed, all short limbs and smiles and toothy grins, giggles and onesies and smelling of sleep, and they jump into your arms, tucked safely between you and the man you love the most. He laughs, full and beautiful, laced with the sluggishness of the sleep that’s still threatening to pull him under and pulls all four of you safely to his side.

You look at his hands as he playfully tosses your daughter into the air, her giggles and grins matched by his, and you think of all the blood and grit they’ve seen, all the splashbacks and gunpowder that he’s washed off in grimy bathrooms to come back to you time and time again. The same hands that now hold your children with a gentleness he doesn’t know he’s capable of, hands that hold yours and trace circles along the knuckles. In the safety of these four baby blue walls, with the sunlight pouring in through the slat in the window, falling onto the baby blue carpet, it is almost easy to believe you are just like any other family. 

‘How’s my little man?’ Your Husband says and winks conspiratorially at your son nestled into your side. 

‘Are we still going out today? You promised!’ Your son says, a frown creasing tiny brows that look so much like his Father’s that it knocks the wind from your chest. It’s almost terrifying to see the resemblances sometimes, the dark tousled curls that bounce when they pull their heads through tiny shirts, golden eyes that swirl just shy of copper. Both your twins that is, spitting images of their Father come to life and a sprinkling of you somewhere in the middle. If you were to ask him, he'd say they looked more like you. You and your winning smile and all the light it brings that now lives safely in their tiny hearts. 

‘I don’t know, have you been good for Mama? Both of you? It's her birthday y'know,’ he says and grins when they nod fervently, pleading eyes that turn to you to back their statement, wrapping their tiny arms around you with a whispered 'Happy Birthday Mama,' and It occurs to him, at moments like this, how greedy he has been to ask and want something that he’s spent so long denying to others. To grab at a life, snatch it from death’s hands, and take it for himself. He has a polaroid of the four of you in his wallet somewhere, behind cards and receipts, numbers of mob bosses, gang leaders, other people whose crimes are too heinous to name, and you safely at the back, tucked away for him and him only, as if this simple act is enough to protect you from the spray of bullets and contents of shady clubs.

‘Come on kids, go get changed.’ And your children scurry off, scrambling off the bed to run to their rooms, excitedly chattering, their curls disappearing through the doorway, voices high with laughter.

He flops back onto the bed and reaches absent-mindedly for the glasses thrown haphazardly onto the bedside table the night before, running a hand down his tired face. It never fails to feel foreign to him on days like today. When the sun is at its zenith, the watery bask of its light leaking into the room, and he wonders at what point his priorities changed, what point he started to think of you more often than he wanted to admit, some time in the past when he was younger and sporadic and chaotic. And while it hasn’t left, that zing of boyhood curiosity, wonderment and thirst for drama, he knows some part of him has softened enough to do this, to not flinch from family, to run his hand over the indentation on the soft cotton sheets, an imprint that remembers you as well as he does.

‘Shuji? Baby?’ And again, like a song, your voice pulls him from his reverie.

‘Yeah?’ 

A beat, your hand moving to hold his, to pull it to your heart, where the memory of his name lives, where he has etched it into your ribcage. ‘Thank you, for doing this I mean. For taking the time out for them and me.’

He doesn’t expect it to hurt like this, the sharp and visceral drop of something into his stomach, and he falters, the quirk of his Cheshire cat grin slipping into something more concerned, something more sombre. 

‘I didn’t mean- I mean I know you’re working hard, I’m grateful Shu’ baby- I am,’ you say, and the rambles of all the pent-up frustrations, nights made lonely by his absence, the whir of the refrigerator and the drone of nighttime Tv the only company, tumbles out before you can stop it. ‘But I miss you sometimes, and the kids-they miss you too. We all do.’

You can’t pretend that the calls made between meetings, between surveillance on the road, between drives from one shady establishment to the other are enough to suffice, to sate the need for him and sometimes it’s so clear, so sharp, that the pain of his absence cuts clean across your lungs.

‘I know…I miss you too, Pretty Girl.’ Said against the crown of your head, his lips slightly dry, chapped and still as full of love for you as they always are. He gets it, you know he does. It’s in the way he sends random messages to you in the small hours, when he knows you’re asleep and he’s watching a rat sell them out and he misses you in an urgent way, in a way that feels like an ache in his chest, the punch of it that hurts more than a kick could.

‘Come Home to us every time okay? Not just today, not just on my birthday, but every day,' You say, because it scares you to think otherwise, because you could run your hand over every ridge and bump of him and name every scar, every mark and it’s beginnings, because you could kiss the eyelashes from his cheek, and spend days and hours counting the calluses on his hands and it would still not be enough to bring him home to you every day. 

‘I will, y’know me Doll, I never lose.’ He knows It’s more for you than him. 

‘I mean you got your ass handed to you by Draken when-’

‘Well excuse me,’ he says, all faux annoyance, the grin curling at the edge of his perfect mouth. ‘What happened to you saying you missed me?’

You giggle, hiding against his chest, your hair tickling the collarbones that still betray the memory of your heated moments just a few hours prior.

‘I do! I always do. You’re like… my hero.’

‘That’s a new one, Doll.’

‘Like it?’

‘Mhm, y’know what I like even more?’

‘What?’

‘I like when you moan my name all sweet-’

‘Shuji?!’ And you slap a hand over his mouth, warm breath on your palm and the sound of his laughter muted and muffled as you spare a glance towards the door slightly ajar. 

And he smiles at you, softened, warming as you pull your hand away, pressing a kiss to the wrist he’s grabbed, tender and heartfelt. 

And you fall and tumble into love for him all over again.

A/n: I wouldn't be me without a self indulgent birthday fic for myself and about my darling boy, the apple of my eye, my heart and soul. (It's the 28th in case anyone wants to know ;)) thank you everyone always.

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