#and there’s a completeness and deep satisfaction in their relationship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yojeongin · 1 year ago

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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

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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twohearts-hs · 2 months ago

Text

Dove & Captain: 4 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 9.8k

Pairings: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Synopsis: She's his Dove. The ER nurse who is the definition of chaos, trauma and humour in scrubs. He's her Captain, gruff, emotionally guarded war veteran with a prosthetic leg and completely in love with her. Six years together, a mortgage, four dogs and the ability to conquer anything. This is a story of their life in one day. He is 49, she's 30. This is one day of their life based on the 15 episodes of 'The Pitt'. There will be little imagines of their relationship over the years.

Warnings: Swearing, Age Gap, Trauma, Medical Language/Procedure, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, etc.

A/N: This is a complete series of ~60k. I will post a few snapshots of their relationship over the six+ years they've been together.

Hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

1200

Y/N finally looked at her phone again. It was little past twelve and she had a moment to breathe. Opening her phone, she saw a few messages. One from Jack around a few minutes ago: “Jesus, dove, woke up to this novel of a text. Sounds good about dinner. I’ll grab ingredients soon. Dogs are good. Going to walk them in a bit. About Dolly, send me a link, but can’t promise anything. We have four already… Just be smug to Robby back and put him in his place. Beckett can crash, but can we talk before he comes? Just need to debrief with you. Let Beckett know that the guest bed is made, but if he leaves his socks in the kitchen again, I’m going to make him clean the bathroom. Talk soon.”

She nodded, reading it before going to the next message that was from Beckett. “Fire. Talked to Mom a few days ago. She met a lad at the legion and now thinks she has found her soulmate. Let’s see how long this one lasts…”

Y/n chuckled, nodding before closing her phone. Robby gathered everyone and debriefed with them all about charting. It was a standard lecture about how to improve patient satisfaction scores, to get the hospital more money and to be through with diagnosing.

Y/N finally got the tests results back for Nick Riley, glancing over them, she sighed. The kid did OD over fentanyl. Basically the same age as Beckett.

“Robby,” Y/N said, getting up and walking over to him. She was wearing a cardigan now, a hot pink one, due to her being cold. “Nick Riley’s cerebral perfusion study is back,” she told him, handing him the tablet.

She watched him take a deep breath as he glanced over the tablet to see the results. A loud sigh came before subtle nods. “No blood flow past the brain stem. Ok,” he muttered, looking over at her. “How are you holding up?” he asked, sending her a silent nudge.

Y/N stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Fine. Grand. Good,” she muttered and shook her head lightly. “A lot of death today.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Jack had a rough night as well,” he explained.

Y/N nodded. “Must be a full moon,” she mumbled. “Or a retrograde.” He just stared at her for a moment before chuckling. “How are you holding up, Chief?” she asked. “You don’t usually work this day. I’ve been caught up with my shit and didn’t think about you. Just checking in.”

He stared at her for a moment, debating whether to talk, but thought not to. “Just another day in paradise,” he responded. “I’m fine,” he added as she stared at him for a moment with a raised brow. “You sound like Dana.”

“We are cut from the same cloth,” Y/N replied, sending a smirk. “What do you want me to do with Nick?” she asked, going back to work.

“Let me know when the transplant people from CORE arrive,” he said to her.

“Yeah, totally,” she replied before turning away and leaving to check on her patients.

Y/N was so close to winning the bet, but Collin’s got her by one factor. She had crash and the catch wrong, which Collin’s got right. Robby made fun of her for a bit, saying she did her calculations wrong, but Y/N shoved it off. She muttered something like, “Better at counting cards than making bets. There’s a mathematical equation to it which you can never get wrong when you do it correctly.”

Dana and Robby just stared at her as if she had two heads.

The ER was in its usual state of chaos, monitors beeping, sneakers squeaking, call lights flashing, trauma bay doors opening and swinging. It was just another day. Busy, hectic and chaotic.

Y/N was standing leaning against the counter lightly as she wrote something on the computer. Her reading glasses on her nose as she ran a hand down her face. She was focused, humming lowly under her breath some song that Jack showed her a few days ago. He was about educating her on real music, whatever that meant.

Robby approached her. “How many cups of coffee have you had?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know. Maybe four,” she muttered, not thinking. “Did you get me one? I would love you forever. I didn’t sleep last night.”

He stared at her, but she was focused on the computer.

“You know, you’re only supposed to have two cups of coffee a day max while pregnant,” he whispered, leaning into her. Y/N slowly glanced up to him, face falling.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“How far along are you?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Seven weeks,” she whispered back. “Oh my God,” she whispered again, “the fetal heart rate is going to be increasing, and it could impair oxygenation. It can also increase a miscarriage.” She was whispering more to herself. She glanced down at the floor, trying to calm herself. “Oh my fucking God,” she whispered, voice filled with worry.

Robby instantly softened. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly, voice gentle but steady. “Hey, hey, breathe, Ace.”

She nodded, but her hand was already on her stomach like could somehow undo the caffeine with her palms. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t even – fuck, Robby, what if I messed something up?” Her voice cracked on the last word, quiet but filled with a rising panic she didn’t often allow anyone to see.

“You didn’t,” he said firmly. “Y/N, just stop, ok? Deep breaths. It’s not like you shot espresso into your veins through an IV. Four cups ins’t great, but its not catastrophic.”

She bit down her lip, looking at him through wide, glassy eyes. “I know better, though. I fucking know better.”

He nodded. “Yeah, you do. But you also haven’t slept. You’ve been working all week and you’ve been carrying this secret around, trying to function like nothing has changed. You’re stressed. That doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you human.”

Her eyes dropped again, and she gave him a small nod. “Thanks, Robby,” she hummed.

“Where’s that giant water bottle you carry around? The pink one? Let me fill it with water and electrolytes, vitamins and all that jazz. Get you hydrated,” he said with a smile, patting her on the back.

“It’s at my station,” she replied. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “Anytime. But before I do that, I do need your advice on something,” he told her, looking at her.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, shoot.”

“It’s really weird and I don’t know what the hell to do with it. I don’t know if you’ve seen something like this or read about it…”

She slowly nodded, pressing save on the chart she was working on and turning her full attention to him. “Talk to me.”

“There’s a woman who came in this morning. Nausea, vomiting, lightheaded, fatigue, that sort of thing. Vitals were fine. Blood work clean. Nothing to show what was happening. With a few questions, she finally admitted that she had taken an induced vomiting drug. Made herself sick to get here.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Factitious Disorder?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

He shook his head. “Thought that, but no. She wants help. Told me her son is planning on killing some schoolgirls.”

Y/N’s face doesn’t change, instead she just stared at him. “Repeat that?”

Robby leaned forward, voice low. “She said her teenage son has a list of girls he wants to kill. A hit list. She found it. Doesn’t know who to tell. Doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should get the police involved – McKay said I should. Dad died due to COVID. Kid ran off when I questioned.”

Y/N exhaled. “Holy shit, ok.”

“Yeah,” Robby nodded. “I’ve never had anything like this in the decades of medicine I’ve been practising. I mean, what do I even do? I’m not psych. This isn’t my wheelhouse.”

Y/N doesn’t hesitate. “First, you need to document everything. Everything. Everything he mentioned, every action he did. Anything. Everything mom says and does as well. Trauma can cause idealisations like this. Or other mental health disorders. Mom brought him here, which means there’s an element of seeking help rather than hiding it. That’s important.”

Robby nods slowly, absorbing.

“Second,” Y/N continues, her tone soft but confident, “you are talking to her like she’s in a crisis. This is not a crisis right now. Do not make her more worried than she is right now. This is terrifying for her. You need to build therapeutic rapport.”

Robby furrowed his brows. “I’m not a therapist, Y/N.”

She shrugged. “Well, sometimes you need to be. Therapeutic rapport is building a bond, trust between you and the patient. No judgment. Be empathic, validate her feelings, make her feel safe. Hear the whole story. Moms know their kids. I know you’re good at rapport. I’ve seen it.”

He nodded.

“Ask her how she’s coping. Ask if there’s anyone helping her – therapists, counsellors, psychologists, even family. A support system needs to be created. She’s not crazy, she’s worried. She’s a mother whose son might be a danger to others, she’s scared shitless.”

He nodded. “What about the son?”

Y/N shrugged. “He’s a minor, right?” Robby nodded. “It’s not a ‘tell the school’ issue. You need to report this. Don’t call the police. Police don’t know how to deal with cases like this without making it seem criminal. Get psych involved, even social work. I can help do. But right now, your job is the mom. Talk to her. Sit down. Be human. It’s not about diagnosing, it’s about understanding the pain that this kid is going through and how you can support the family. If that makes sense. It’s not black or white, Robby. Tough with situations like this.”

Robby looked at her for a beat, then chuckled softly. “You can be terrifying when you’re calm like this.”

She hummed. “Did my time in mental health, remember? Three years of working in the psych ward as a mental health worker. I’ve sat on too many cold tile floors with kids who thought no one would ever understand them. You don’t forget that. Being a teenager is hard, especially in this day of age.” Y/N squeezed his arm. “I have a teenager brother. It’s hard for them.”

Robby nodded. “Thanks. I mean it.”

Y/N bumped her shoulder with his. “You got this, Cowboy. Just be kind. Active listening. That’s all people ever really need.” He sent her a smile. “Want me to come? Jump in if needed?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, too many bodies. She might freak out.”

Y/N nodded. “Absolutely valid. Go be a therapist for a second. Might even boost your patient satisfaction scores,” she hummed, smiling.

Robby chuckled, shaking his head and walking away.

Dana came up to Y/N a little while later. “Have you eaten, sweetheart?” she asked, leaning to look at her.

Y/N shook her head. “Not since this morning when Jack shoved a sandwich down my throat and then I puked it up,” she replied, humming.

“Come on, Mama,” she hummed, hooking her arm with the nurse and pulling her to the break room.

Once they got there, there were several bags filled with sandwiches. Instantly, Y/N then felt her hunger, sitting down and going through the bags.

“Ugh,” McKay groaned, “the things I would do for pastrami.”

Y/N smirked, going through the boxes to find something she could eat. It was recommended not to eat cold cuts when pregnant, so she was searching for something.

“Is there a turkey and cheese?” Princess asked, glancing over.

“Uh, yeah,” Y/N replied, handing her a box.

The door opened, and Robby came in. “Oh, what is all this?” he asked.

“Lunch. Primanti’s. It appears that we have at least one grateful patient,” Dana replied, looking over her shoulder to see Robby.

Robby smirked. “Hope is alive. Who do we have to thank?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I think there’s a card at the bottom of the bag,” Dana said.

Robby found it, reading it over, however he placed it down, face fallen. “Enjoy your lunch,” he responded, then looked over at Y/N. “But you…eat,” he lectured, pointing at the young nurse.

“I am!” she hollered back, mouth full of food.

“Good.” Then he left the room.

Y/N noticed the wicked change of behaviour from the old man within seconds. Brows furrowed; she grabbed the card.

“What was that?” Whitaker asked.

“Don’t know,” Dana replied.

Y/N sighed. “It’s from Shelby Adamson, Dr. Adamson’s sister,” Y/N replied, handing the card to Dana.

“She sends something every year,” Dana muttered, sighing.

“He doesn’t like her?” Whitaker asked.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s about that. It’s about him,” she whispered, biting into her sandwich again.

“Dr. Adamson was Robby’s mentor and he…he died during COVID, so,” Dana replied, another deep sigh came from her.

1300

Y/N got called for a potential drug-induced patient or even psych. Nandi, an influencer who was erratic. Y/N stood next to Robby, arms crossed, as Donnie administered some drugs and Santos and Mohan tried to get the patient’s history.

“Javadi, Whitaker, see if you can do the exam,” Robby said, looking over to the med students.

They nodded. Javadi took out her pen light. “Can you look at the light?” she asked as Whitaker took vitals.

Instantly, the patient flinched, hiding herself away from the light. “No. What was that?” she expressed.

“Ok. Open your mouth?” Javadi tried.

The patient was curled up, scared and filled with fear. Y/N continued to watch the behaviour, glancing over to Robby, who gave her a look.

“No. It’s not real. Where am I?” the patient continued to express, voice filled with fear.

“How do you even do an exam with a patient like this?” Whitaker asked.

Nandi continued to be paranoid.

“Observe her. Wait for her to look at you or open her mouth, and get a quick look. Make sure she moved her arms and legs equally,” Mohan explained to the med students.

Donnie tried to get the patient hooked up to the monitor, but she was fighting.

“Alright, we might need to wait until after the meds kick in,” Robby explained, arms still crossed as he looked at the patient. Then he called everyone out of the room. Y/N followed suit.

Once out of the room, Y/N stood in front of Robby, glancing back as she tried to think of what could possibly have happened. However, Robby let out a sigh.

“Ok, differential diagnosis?” he asked.

“Schizophrenia, first psychotic break. She’s in the right age range,” Javadi suggested.

Y/n slowly nodded. Robby too. “Yeah, what else?” he said.

“Drugs, also common in this age group,” Whitaker explained.

“Common in any age group,” Y/N replied.

“Exactly,” Robby said. “What else?”

“Not just recreational drugs. It could also be toxicity to medications,” Javadi tried.

Y/N nodded again, thinking that could be a possibility as well.

“Don’t just jump to conclusions,” Mohan reminded. “Think big categories and then specifics.”

“Metabolic, hyper- or hyponatremia, calcium, hepatic encephalopathy,” Whitaker brainstormed.

“Endocrine, hyperthyroid, infectious encephalitis,” Javadi added.

“These are all possibilities,” Robby muttered, looking down at the floor for a second. “Ok, let’s work her up medically and see if we can clear her.” Then he glanced at the patient through the window.

“Chem panel, CBC, TSH and T4, drug screen, and hCG,” Mohan muttered, saying the tests they need to do.

“Yep. Keep me posted. If it’s all negative, then admit her to psych,” Robby ordered, nodding at the team before walking off.

Y/N nodded, turning back to the patient to help stabilise her so they could get the tests done.

Y/N watched Robby’s behaviour for an hour. The way he was snappier, grumpier and a little bit too harsh with his tone. She figured it could be because he was hangry or perhaps due to the fact that it was Adamson’s death day. However, she needed to talk to him. She needed him to talk to her and for her to express that he can’t talk the way he does to his team.

When she spotted him exiting the bathroom, she made her way, stopping in front of him. He stared at her for a moment, raising a brow.

“You, me, talk, now,” she barked, pointing to the hallway.

“Y/N,” he tried, voice low and warning.

She shook her head. “Nope. You’re talking to me,” she explained, grabbing his arm and pulling him.

“I’m a busy man, Y/N. I don’t have time–“

“Don’t care. You need a moment to decompress. To breathe. So, we will go to the corner and hash it out,” she barked back, stopping in a spot where no one could see them. “You’re being harsh to the kids. A little bit too blunt, which isn’t like you, Robby–“

He stared at her for a moment before glancing away, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said, trying to convince her.

She shook her head. “You’re off today. I’m not the only one who sees it.”

He scoffed.

“You’re snapping. Chewing the kids out like they stole your car. Something’s going on, so tell me,” Y/N explained, nudging him. “Just between us.”

He glanced at her, eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place – exhaustion, maybe. Pain. Or both. His jaw clenched.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “Not everything needs to be dissected with your psych degree and nurse intuition. Maybe I’m just in a bad fucking mood.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t snap at people because of a bad mood. That’s not who you are. Also, you need to be professional, Robby. If it is a bad mood, stop impacting other people. We need to work as a team.”

Robby looked away again, like he was trying to swallow something that didn’t want to go down. “You ever think that maybe I’m just a ride for people expecting me to hold it together?” he muttered.

Y/N softened when he muttered that. “Then talk it out. Say it. Don’t lash out at them. You’re their attending, Robby, their mentor. The chief of the ER. They look up to you.”

He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, today they’re looking up to a man who’s–“ He sighed.

She stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever trusted to go into hell with and come out on the other side. But not like this. Not when you’re burning people with you.” He blinked. Once. Twice. “It’s ok to not be ok.”

Then his tone dropped, almost broken as he glanced down.

“It’s Adamson’s anniversary.”

She nodded slowly. “I figured.”

“And then all the fucking deaths, chaos. It’s just–“

“It’s a day, Robby. Too much in one day,” she replied, sending him a small smile.

He nodded, breathing harder now. “I just. Everyone expects us to fix things and sometimes I don’t know how to fix things.”

Y/N nodded. “You’re not supposed to fix everything, Robby,” she said gently. “But it’s ok to not be ok. We are doing our best. All of us.” Robby stared at her. “We aren’t superheroes. We aren’t God or whatever people believe in. We are just ER cowboys trying to win the rodeo,” she replied.

There was a long pause, and Robby looked like he might finally crack. His mouth opened but then Y/N’s face shifted.

Instantly, she grasped the wall as she clasped her stomach, holding it. Wincing, as she held her breath.

Robby watched her, eyes widening. “Y/N?” he asked, instantly, alarm.

Her brows furrowed as she continued to feel the intense cramps. “Fuck,” she whispered before shaking her head. “No, no, no, you do not get to do this.” Y/N bent over, both hands covering her stomach now.

Robby stepped closer, his voice soft but urgent. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

Y/N glanced up at him, colour draining from her face. He said her name again, hand coming out to hold her, but instantly, she pushed past him. Robby turned, seeing her beginning to try her best with walking away.

“Y/N,” he tried, walking after her.

“I’m fine, go back to work,” she whispered, breathy.

He scoffed. “No, no. You’re not fine,” he said, trying to reach for her, but she pulled away.

She turned to him. “Fuck off and leave me alone,” she barked. “Do not follow me.”

Then she disappeared down the hall, leaving Robby standing here, pulse pounding in his ears.

He knew it. He knew exactly what was happening. And this time, he couldn’t fix it either.

1400

Y/N pushed the bathroom door open. She knew what was happening, biting down on her bottom lip, she closed the bathroom door, locking it. Sitting down on the toilet, she pulled her pants down and glanced at her underwear.

Instantly, her stomach turned. Instantly, a sob came from her. Instantly, she closed her eyes and lost it.

Blood. So much blood.

She was miscarrying.

Sitting there, she let it happen. She let everything happen. Y/N closed her eyes, sitting there on the toilet. Her pants were down, her hands were on her knees, and the tears just came. Y/N knew it was going to happen. It happened before. The chance of her getting pregnant was slim, but the chance of her carrying to term was even slimmer.

There was a piece of her that was hopeful. Bleeding can happen in pregnancy, and she was still in her first trimester, but as she opened her eyes again and looked at her underwear, she shook her head.

This was not light bleeding. Not even close. This was truly a miscarriage.

Y/N let the tears happen for minutes. She knew Robby would find her if she got spotted, but she couldn’t think about this right now.

She just had to let herself grieve in solitude.

Twenty-four hours. She had knowledge that she was pregnant for twenty-four hours. She found out around two o’clock the day prior and now it was just a little past two, and she was not pregnant anymore.

Y/N took deep breaths. Allowing herself to calm herself down. Cleaning her underwear and grabbing a sanitary pad from the bathroom, she fixed herself up at the mirror. She had to go on. Few more hours. Few more hours and she could go home.

Y/N knew Beckett wanted to come over today, but she couldn’t let him anymore. She needed to be alone. Tomorrow was her day off. She could wallow in her own pity or pretend it never happened.

Then it hit her.

Jack. Her sweet, old man, Jack. He had no idea. Not a single clue what was going on.

There was no pregnancy anymore. There was no exciting news. There was no baby. There was no way she was going to tell him now.

He didn’t know about the last miscarriage. They weren’t together at the time. She had her last one at twenty-two. Eight years ago. A different partner at the time. A whole other world.

Y/N grasped the sink for a moment, wiping her tears before looking back up. She smiled, showed her teeth and then took a deep breath.

She needed to confirm the miscarriage. She needed proof.

Opening the door to the bathroom, she kept her head down, walking past everyone and making her way to the ultrasound machine that was standing by the nurses’ station. She grabbed it, wheeling it to Central 16. However, Robby watched her. Robby watched her with Dana next to him as Y/N tried to hide this from everyone.

Instantly, he pushed off the leaning post against the station and followed suit.

Y/N was in the trauma room, turning the ultrasound on while grabbing the gel, when the door opened.

“Lie down,” Robby whispered. “Let me,” he said.

Y/N turned her head, tear tear-stained face and reddened eyes. However, no more tears were thre. She froze for a second, gripping the ultrasound probe too tightly, knuckles white. The room was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that made everything echo, even your own breath.

Y/N stared at him, no words, just shook her head in a silent ‘no’. Robby stepped forward gently, hands raised as if he was approaching a wounded animal.

“Please, Ace,” he said softly. “Let me help.”

She blinked slowly; tears welled again but didn’t fall. Her voice was nearly gone. “I know how to use an ultrasound machine, Robby,” she responded.

“I know you can,” Robby replied. “But you shouldn’t have to do this. Not alone.”

Y/N’s lips trembled. Her fingers loosened around the probe before she let it drop onto the tray beside the machine. She didn’t say anything – just walked slowly over to the medical bed and laid back, legs still tense, arms folded across her chest.

Robby moved with care, grabbing a pair of gloves and setting up the ultrasound. He didn’t speak as he pulled, he pivacy curtain across the window and door. The room filled with a quiet hum of the machine warming up.

“This is just to check, ok?” he said. His voice was steady and careful. “I’m going to use a little pressure.”

She nodded without looking at him. Her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. Mind racing as she took deep breaths. Tucking her shirt up, she exposed her stomach to him.

Robby squirted the gel onto her lower abdomen and gently moved the probe into place. Y/N turned to look at the screen. Both of them did.

Nothing.

He tilted the wand slightly, adjusted angles.

Still nothing.

No heartbeat. No flicker. It was there yesterday, but today it was gone.

The silence was deafening.

Robby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

“Try transvaginally,” she whispered, staring at the screen. “It would be hard to see it as I’m so early. It’s more accurate.”

Robby stared at her for a moment, watching as she broke her eye contact from the screen to look at the man, she was so close with. When their eye’s met the hope that was in Y/N’s eyes, the sparkle, was long gone since this morning. She knew the answer, but she was science-based and needed to know.

“Ok,” he muttered, pulling the probe away.

“Get me something to drape myself,” she muttered, and Robby nodded, handing her a sheet from a cart in the corner.

Robby turned his back to her and Y/N pulled her pants down, underwear and all, before draping the sheet over her.

“I’m bleeding,” she whispered, warning him. “Vaginally,” she muttered added. “Because I’m–“

He nodded. “I know. It’s ok, Ace. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t look at her body. He didn’t even glance. He just handed her the internal probe and told her she needed to insert it herself. Y/N sat on the gurney, knees up, legs spread as she inserted it.

“It’s in, Robby,” she whispered.

He nodded, finding the probe under the drape, his arm steadying on her knee, a comfort message as he looked back at the screen.

Still nothing.

Just the hollow blackness of an empty gestational sac. No flicker. No movement. The image that meant life twenty-four hours ago was now confirmation of loss.

Y/N closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even flinch. It was like her soul had gone quiet. Numb.

Robby slowly removed the probe and stepped back, carefully covering her again. He went to open his mouth to explain the next steps when it comes to having a miscarriage, but Y/N stopped him.

“Not my first rodeo, Cowboy,” she muttered with a hint of a joke, pulling her pants back up. “This is my third,” she casually said.

Robby stared at her. Hearing such a secret, the vulnerability of her words. “Have you and Jack gone through this before?” he asked. “Were you trying?”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “No and no. I was twenty-two last time. Then nineteen the first time,” she responded. Y/N was moving to sit on the edge of the medical bed, looking at Robby, who was staring at her like she was broken. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he whispered, brows furrowed.

“With pity,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Don’t tell Jack. Don’t ever tell Jack. Don’t ever bring it up to Jack. Jack will never know. Never ever know. This is my story. Not our story,” she said, words very deliberate and soft.

Robby’s brows furrowed, jaw tightening. “Y/N–“

“I’m fucking serious, Robby,” she snapped, eyes finally locking on this. “He’ll never know. You hear me? This is going with me to the grave.”

“He loves you, Ace. So much,” Robby said quietly, eyes soft but firm. “He deserves to know. He would want to know. I would want to know if we were together,” he said.

“But we aren’t,” she casually shrugged before glancing up at the ceiling. “Jack has had a hell of a life. So much loss. He doesn’t need this on top of it. He thought I couldn’t get pregnant. He made his peace with it. I don’t need to disrupt that.”

Robby crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not good going through this alone,” he muttered.

She shook her head. “Well, sometimes there are things you do have to conquer alone,” she responded, jumping off the bed and looking at the chief of the ER. “Patient-Doctor confidentiality, Robby. I was your patient,” she said. “Don’t tell Jack.”

Robby swallowed, nodding. “Go home, Y/N,” he said, a little too sternly, a little too roughly. “Go home. We’ll cover you.”

She stared at him, crossing her arms. “I’m not dying, Robby. I’m miscarrying, I’m fine–“

“You’re emotional,” he whispered.

Her head snapped to him. “Oh, fuck you, Robby,” she barked, shaking her head and walking to the door. “Burn the scan. Delete the images. This never happened,” she said. “Thank you, though, for being here for this minute.”

Robby didn’t say anything as she opened the trauma room door. He just watched her walk away with fire in her step and devastation in her eyes.

The minute the door clicked shut behind her, he ran a hand through his hair, then face through his beard and exhaled hard. This was the part of the job that hurt the most. Not the trauma, not the chaos. It was watching someone you love – really love – bleed silently and refuse to help.

And Jack?

Jack would lose his fucking mind if he knew what just happened in this room.

Y/N went to the nurse’s station, sitting down and opening up the computer. Dana knew what was up. Robby mentioned Y/N tumbled in pain, and then she wheeled the ultrasound machine into the trauma room. She stayed silent for a moment, debating what to do with the young nurse who was pretending nothing happened.

She walked over, pulling a seat next to Y/N.

“Talk to me,” Dana whispered.

“Rather not,” she replied, eyes focused on the screen. “But thank you for being like a mom to me,” she whispered. “Thank you for the support.”

“Always, sweetheart,” Dana hummed back, touching her shoulder, squeezing it. “But I’m here.”

Y/N nodded, halting her type before looking at Dana. “I’m going to give the same speech to you as I did to Robby. This is between us. Jack will never know. You hear me never know. Ever. It’s my story and I chose who gets to know,” she said quietly, voice sharp.

Dana nodded staring at her for a moment. “Of course.” Then Dana moved away from Y/N, knowing that hovering wasn’t going to benefit her at all.

Y/N instantly was on her feet when a child rolled in on a gurney. Paramedics announced she was a drowning victim. Y/N instantly grabbed gloves and hurried over.

“Amber Philips, six years old. Found at the bottom of a home pool with an unknown downtime. Asystole on the monitor,” the paramedics called out as Y/N hurried alongside them.

“Intubated with a cuffed 4.5, 22-gauge left AC, 0.25 epi three minutes ago,” another called out.

Y/N grasped the underlying sheet, as someone counted down before they moved the child from the gurney to the medical bed. Instantly, she was back to herself, grabbing supplies and working around the doctors.

“Whitaker, take over compressions,” Robby called out before looking up. “Any family coming in?”

“Grandma and little sister,” a paramedic called out.

“Fast and deep,” Collin’s stated.

Whitaker began doing compressions as Mel stepped in with her stethoscope. “She’s really cold.”

Y/N heard that, knowing what that meant and nodded, already going to work before Robby could say anything.

“Ace, get a core temp,” he called out.

“On it already,” she replied.

“Good breath sounds bilaterally,” Mel called out.

“Should we use the Lucas?” Whitaker asked.

“No, she’s way too small for that,” Collin’s replied.

Y/N was grabbing her temperature, brows furrowed. “Rectal temp only 85.” Y/N shook her head. “Kid’s got moderate hypothermia,” she stated. Robby glanced at Y/N who was deep into her work.

“Yeah,” he stated, nodding. “We need to get her up to 90 if we have any chance of restarting her heart.”

They all nodded.

“250 ccs heated saline. Set up the Arctic Sun. Continuous core temp monitoring, and prep another epi 0.25,” Collins called out, and Y/N instantly went to work grabbing the supplies and things needed.

Robby just stood there, looking at Y/N. “Robby, if you keep staring, I will throttle you,” Y/N muttered, walking around him.

He then nodded, out of his daze. “Yup,” he muttered, looking back at the patient.

They continued to work on the patient, trying their best to bring her back. Y/N tried not to think that there was a little girl on the table, someone’s daughter.

Grandma came in, sitting next to Amber.

“She wasn’t breathing, so the medics put a tube in her throat,” Robby whispered to the grandmother.

“She’s so cold,” Frances, the grandmother, called out, scared.

“We’re warming her up. That way, she’ll have a better chance to respond to the medicines,” Robby explained, looking back at Y/N who refused to look him in the eye.

“They moved a bench next to the pool fence so they could go over, because their soccer ball went in the water. Amber couldn’t make it out of the deep end. The gate was locked. I was vacuuming. I didn’t hear them,” Frances muttered, holding onto her granddaughter as she sniffed and sighed.

Y/N’s heart broke hearing that, but she couldn’t think of that right now. She had a job to do.

The parents came in soon after. Y/N watched them as the mother came to hold her daughter. Y/N swallowed.

“Rhythm check. Hold compressions,” Collins called out.

Whitaker took a step back. But the machine was flat lining.

“Asystole. Resume compressions,” Collins ordered.

Whitaker went back to CPR while Y/N held the breathing bag.

“Three minutes since the last epi,” Y/N said.

“Push another,” Collins replied.

“Did you shock the heart?” the mother asked, glancing up.

“Uh, no,” Robby replied, calmly, lowly.

“Why…why didn’t you shock the heart?” the mother asked, words desperate and confused. “We’ve got to save her. You’ve got to shock the heart.”

“Heart rhythm right now is flatlining. That’s not treatable with a shock. We’re trying to get the rhythm to change to something we can shock by warming her up,” Robby replied, voice quite and low.

“Ok. So, we’ve got to warm up. You’ve got to get some more blankets in here or something,” the mother rambled.

“We are giving her warm IV fluids, and you can feel these blue pads. They have warm water running through them like a hot tub,” Robby muttered.

“Are you sure you’re doing everything?” the mother asked, quietly.

“Yes, we are,” Robby confirmed.

Robby’s eyes went back to Y/N, who glanced up to see him. He was just staring her, and Y/N took a deep breath and dodged his eyes.

They continued longer trying to bring back this little girl. Y/N didn’t try to think of the situation but rather the job that needed to be done. Whitaker continued to do chest compressions, warm saline went through her veins and Y/N helped with getting oxygen into her.

“Core temp is 88,” she spoke up. Slowly it was climbing.

“Is that good?” the dad spoke up, looking around the room.

“It’s up from 85 on her arrival, so we’re headed in the right direction,” Collins spoke up.

Robby was hovering, arms crossed as he walked around the room. His eyes were on the little girl, then Collins, before jumping back to Y/N, who remained emotionless.

“You hear that, Amber?” the mother spoke. “It’s better,” she said between breaths as she ran her hand through her daughter’s hair. “You’re getting better.”

“I need to step out for a second. You’re in good hands,” Robby whispered, looking at the parents. “Come find me when it’s over 90,” he whispered to Collins before leaving the room.

Eventually the core temperature got to 91. Robby was back in the room, glancing at monitors. Mateo was on the bag down helping her breathe while Y/N stood with her arms crossed.

“Can you shock the heart now?” the dad asked.

“91 is warm enough for her heart to respond,” Robby muttered, still looking at the monitors.

“Hold compressions,” Collins addressed. Whitaker stopped and the machine flatlines. Y/N walked to the phone to hear the results of the labs.

“Asystole,” Mel whispered.

“Resuming compressions.”

Listening to it, her face fell, nodding. She hung up, placing the phone back on the wall before turning to the crowd. She took a breath. “Potassium levels are back,” she said.

Robby looked at her, raising a brow.

“12.2,” she breathed, knowing what it meant. Her eyes looked over the crowd as Robby walked over, bending down next to the family.

Y/N’s heart broke, looking over to the girl on the table. Seeing her small frame, her lifeless, small frame and sighed. Another death. Another death on this day.

“No one has ever survived a cardiac arrest with a potassium over 11. There is absolutely no chance of recovery,” Robby said, voice low, calm and soft. He took a breath. “I am so sorry. Amber has died.”

Y/N instantly glanced down, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Before we stop, do you think her sister would like a chance to say goodbye?”

“No,” the dad responded, shaking his head. “Uh, Bella shouldn’t see her like this.”

“Ok,” Robby replied, sending a solid nod. “You can stay in here for as long as you like. We are going to stop now,” he told them.

The mother was hysterical. Y/N couldn’t blame her. She just lost a child. Her child. A daughter who barely lived. So small, so young. Y/N lost a child today, and it might not have been the same as the mother, but it was still a child.

Robby met Y/N’s eyes, and he saw her expression. His head nodded to the door and she nodded back, quietly excusing herself from the room.

Y/N walked right outside the trauma ward into the ambulance bay. The sun was shining, the wind was soft, and it was just a beautiful day. A beautiful September day, but it was such a fucking shitty day. She leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and staring in front of her.

“Fuck, I want a cigarette,” she muttered. “Just one fucking cigarette.”

However, she could hear Jack’s words in her brain scolding her for pumping poison into her lungs. His words would be so simple “Dove, rather you talk to me than take your stress out through inhaling toxins.”

If that was so fucking simple. If everything was so fucking simple.

She had no idea how long she had been there for, but she saw Nick Bradley’s body being wheeled out on a gurney to the ambulance bay to be transported for organ donation. She missed the memory walk. However, Y/N didn’t move. She stayed put, glancing ahead.

Dana, Collins and Robby came out to see the ambulance leave. Y/N stayed put, not saying a word, not even looking at them. Instead, just stared ahead. Her arms were crossed, then she glanced down at her shoes, seeing the stains from the job. Her cardigan was gone. Just the long-sleeved cheetah print she had under the lighter scrubs. Y/N pulled the band from her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder. Long, thick locks that cascaded in perfect waves.

Robby spotted her by the doors, about three metres from them. Her back against the wall, just staring. He debated whether or not to walk over. Would she be down to talk? Would she even want to talk?

He lingered, hands on his hips, watching her, hus head straight then a slight tilt he did whenever he was thinking too hard. Collins and Dana exchanged a glance, one that said, “leave it to Robby” before heading back in through the double doors, the hush of grief following them.

Robby waited a beat longer. Then walked over.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside her, leaning back against the same wall, crossing his arms. His shoulders brushed hers, but she didn’t move. Instead, her head came, leaning over to his shoulder.

Her eyes remained forward, lips pressed together and jaw tight. She swallowed hard before she took a deep breath.

Robby didn’t know what to say.

“You missed the walk,” he said after the moment, voice low.

“I know.”

“He was your patient.”

She was silent for a moment, then a small, “I know,” came. Nothing else came from her, instead, she just moved her head to get deeper into the crook of his neck.

Robby’s hand came, grasping her hand as their hands entwined. “I’m here,” he whispered.

She nodded. “I know.” He went to open his mouth. “Don’t tell me to go home. Please don’t. That’s the last place I want to be.”

He said nothing, stayed quiet.

“You’re a good man, Michael,” she whispered. “A really good man. Who deserves so much. Happiness, peace, solitude and a fair life,” she mumbled. “I’m thankful for you. I’m grateful you’re in my life.” Then she breathed. “I’ll always have love for you,” she whispered, looking down. “But this job,” she muttered and took a deep breath in, “slowly degrades you. Burns brain cells. Eats your blood count. Destroys your faith.”

“I know,” he replied. “You’ve had a day.”

She stayed quiet for a brief second before pulling away and looking up to his six-foot frame. “No, we are having a day. Not just me.”

He nodded. “Yeah, pretty fucking shitty. But this is what we do.”

Y/N nodded in silence before looking back in front of her. “I should tell Jack, right?” she whispered.

“Yeah, you should.” She nodded, reaching for her phone but he stopped her hand. “This is something to do in person, Y/N. I would like to hear it in person. Not due to selfish needs, but because I would want to hold you while you told me. Wipe your tears. Hold your hand. Caress your hair and whisper ‘it’s going to be ok’.” Y/N met his eyes, and he saw how broken they were. “I would tell you how much I love you. I would ask what you’d want next. Then I’d run you a bath, get in with you and hold you. I’d whisper sweet nothings, delivering kisses along your skin as I rub your stomach. Then we’d go to bed, and I’d hold you all night.”

Y/N stared at him. They said nothing for moments. Just stared at one another. Their hands were still entwined together.

Then she took a long, deep breath. “A lot of death today,” she mumbled.

“I agree.”

She broke her gaze from him and looked ahead. “It’s been officially like a hundred days of me not smoking. I stress smoke. Since I was eleven, and stole them from my mother. I might light one or two, or a whole packet,” she muttered. Then she took another breath. “Jack found me last time. I’d got news that my mom was ok. She was missing from her housing facility. She was missing for two weeks. Found,” she let out a chuckle, “at our old shit box home. We lived in it till I was ten before we got evicted. She was pregnant with Beckett at the time. We moved into my Nana’s. Beckett was born not soon after,” she mumbled. He looked at her, listening but then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I just want a fucking cigarette, and I can hear Jack’s brooding, grumpy old man voice in the back of my head lecturing me.” She met his eyes. “Don’t lecture me, Cowboy,” she joked with a small smile. “I bet you have vices to deal with your shit.”

He smirked, chuckling. “Hey, we work in the ER, the ways we cope can’t be judged.” Though he winked at her, and she raised a brow. “I can’t give you a cigarette as I don’t smoke and I know Jack would throttle me if he found out. But,” he hummed, digging into his pocket, “I have a mint.”

Y/N stared at the mint he had. The peppermint, one that brought a smile to her face. “That’s from the staff room.”

He nodded. “Yes, it is.”

She then sent a small smile. “Jack, before we started dating, would hand me a mint from the staff room whenever I had a bad case. He would say something like, ‘the burning would distract you’. We’d sit on the rooftop. Talk about anything. Well, he was my boss, so I didn’t know what to talk about. So, we’d talk about common things, which usually was how bad the coffee in the break room was and how I had a conspiracy that the sandwiches from the cafeteria were recycled from the university and from frozen. I was awkward with him.”

Robby glanced at her. He had one thought – if she wasn’t on night shifts for two years and on days instead, would they have had months like this…leading to a life together.

“I didn’t know that,” he said gently.

“Jack’s not a talker,” she responded. “Now he is. Not a yapper, but like the type to express his wants and needs bluntly.”

Robby chuckled. “Yeah, best mates we are,” he hummed.

Y/N nodded. “Oh, I know. You two trade tools, talk about trucks and bond over building things from scratch.”

Robby chuckled. “I did pressure wash your rancher home this past summer,” he mumbled. “And your Bronco.”

Y/N chuckled. “Jack has threatened me that if I continue to keep my Bronco a mess from all my trash, shit and life, I will be sleeping in the guest room.”

Robby chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, he’s a military man. Organisation, clean, sleek,” he muttered.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m right now banned from his truck because I spilt my Starbucks in it last week and plus left my shit in it. But it wasn’t shit. It was like a claw clip, a lipgloss, a tide pen, an old coffee mug and my panties,” she muttered, and Robby raised a brow.

“Panties?”

“We went on a walk, and I ended up swimming in my undergarments, so I took them off in the car while he gave me his shirt. I forgot to bring in my lake-soaked panties. Classic Jack is like ‘Dove, the truck isn’t a purse’ and ‘Your chaotic gremlin energy does not belong in the truck. Truck is sacred’,” she muttered with a chuckle while doing a grumpy Jack impression. “Now, when we have to go anywhere, he demands we drive my car when we have three other cars on the property, but he complains they are ‘collectors’. Then he goes on about the mess. Whatever…”

Robby rolled his eyes in laughter. “You’re a chaotic girl,” he muttered. “And a chaotic gremlin.”

“No, I’m spicy. Unique. Different. Keep you on your toes type of girl,” she responded. Then she smirked. “But, I’ll accept gremlin.”

Robby nodded. “You know it was love at first sight with him,” he mumbled.

Y/N heard him, heart fluttering for a moment before shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t. When we met, he was emotionally shut down. Still grieving his late wife. I was this chaotic thunderstorm who entered the ER at twenty-two, who questioned the way he charted and his brooding demeanour.” Then she chuckled. “The first year, it was just professional, but I also mainly worked with you Robby on days. I moved to nights because of the premium rates and then gradually, he started to challenge me, teach me new things. After one hard case, he came over and crashed on my couch. Then he started to crash every shift we had together and then he was sleeping in my bed. We were just friends. He never touched me or flirted with me. Then one day, I just kissed him. Somehow, I did it on the rooftop and then…magic. Six years later, four dogs, a mortgage on a rancher on an acre of land by the edge of a city, a Bronco he bought for me, paid off my debt, paying my brother’s university and endless camping trips where I complain about shitting in a hole and sleeping on the floor.” She took a breath. “Why me? I ask every day. Why me? Because I’m far from perfect. Childhood trauma. Addict Mother. Dad,” she breathed, “dad, who has a whole other family. A half-brother who’s my world. And so many stories I’m not proud of but had to do to survive.” Then she shook her head. “He doesn’t know it all. I keep so much because he’s Jack. Old-fashioned, but still progressive, the type who,” she looked over to Robby and whispered, “makes sure a teenage girl gets an abortion. Brooding, strict, blunt, but so kind, deliberate, gentle and patient. The type who makes two of everything when he makes a coffee, or a lunch, because he wants to ensure I’m taken care of. The one who takes care of everything, so I don’t have to worry. Lectures me on letting the dogs on the bed or spending 7$ on a coffee.” Then she let out a loud cackle. “The man who hates my mother but still supports her housing. Buys her groceries for her with me. Comes with me to check on her and didn’t get mad when I was hiding that I was sending her money from our account.”

Robby stayed quiet, knowing she didn’t need a response.

“I’m so incredibly happy,” she whispered. “I made my own happiness. Becoming a guardian to Beckett at nineteen, raising him when my mother couldn’t, supporting myself and him while I attended school, going to university, becoming a nurse…getting Winston. But he came, and it was just like, ‘yeah, I’m good now. Don’t need anything else’. But,” she breathed, “a baby.”

Robby glanced over but her eyes were focused on a rock on the ground. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Moments. He knew she was thinking of the best way to say it. Her brain was going over every word in her brain.

“I was a mother,” she eventually said,” I am a mother.”

Robby’s brows furrowed.

“I became a mother at fourteen when mom went on a bender for two weeks. Gone, came back for her shift and then fucked off forever. I had a four-year-old brother. I had no choice,” she muttered. “Fuck,” she scoffed. “How am I alive? With her as my mother. Fuck knows. But Beck is mine. He is my child. He’s my son,” she whispered. “Jack sees him as a son. He takes care of him. For me. For us. For him. But also, because he’s Jack,” she muttered as tears came.

Then everything hit. Memories she shut out from her childhood. Moments she didn’t know ever existed. Situations she hid from herself. Tears began to come down her cheeks.

“Jack can know about this,” she eventually muttered. “But he can’t know all of me. Of everything I’ve done to be here today to be with him because he wouldn’t understand it.”

Robby didn’t interrupt. He let her sit in that silence, let the tears fall. One thing Y/N taught him was active listening and how beneficial it was. But it was so rare to see Y/N like this, how she talked like this. Her truth that isn’t jokes, humour, and smirks. Her world was beautiful now, he knew that. But the way she spoke broke him internally. But this wasn’t a moment for laughter, but rather her talking about a grief that suited her.

She sniffled hard and swiped her cheeks with the sleeve under her scrub top. “He wouldn’t understand it,” she whispered again, quieter this time. “He’s ex-military…we are survivors in different ways, but I don’t understand his trauma, and he wouldn’t understand mine. But he’s good. He’s cleaner in ways I never was. Sure, he may have combat fought and saw shit. But, never had to,” she shook her head, “never mind. He’s a good man and I needed him, and I thank the universe everyday for us.”

Robby nodded.

“But I want a baby,” she whispered. “I realized it in the last twenty-four hours, and I can’t have a baby, Robby. But it doesn’t make sense for us to have a baby. He’s forty-nine. We are workaholics. I still love a good party. I smoke if Jack doesn’t catch me, drink like an Irishman at a pub and dance like it’s 1999,” she said as she stared ahead. “Beckett was my baby. He was my baby, and I became a mother at fourteen,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I think I just realised that.” She scoffed. “I have to be his mother because ours is a piece of fucking shit.”

Robby swallowed thickly, chest tight, watching her unravel, not in chaos, but in clarity. A trust she hadn’t spoken aloud, maybe not even to herself.

He pulled her closer to his side, holding her. “Yeah,” he whispered. A piece of him would want to say I would give you everything, but he knew Jack already did. “Beckett is yours. Might be a adult now–“

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He went to Jack two weeks ago for advice on oral sex.”

Robby snickered, rolling his eyes. “You’re a good mom to him, Ace. You’ve done a good damn job.”

Y/N looked at him, and he looked at her. “You’re a good man, Michael. In another life, I’d give you what you wanted,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“In another life, Ace.”

Then she scoffs. “God, I’m turning into an intern or a med student, crying in the ambulance bay,” she muttered before letting out a loud, real laugh.

Robby smirked. “Welcome to the club. Took you long enough. They meet daily. Dana brings them muffins.”

She glared at him. “I’m a nurse, not a goddamn med student. Crying is for the weak,” she barked but then smirked.

“So judgmental, the rookies need to feel, Ace.”

Their eyes were still looking at one another. “Do you think Jack would be mad if I didn’t tell him right away? Tell him when I’m ok?”

Robby shook his head. “I would be ok with that,” he whispered but then sighed. “But Jack, he’d wouldn’t be mad, he’d be upset that you went through this alone.”

She nodded. “He would say his classic line. I literally have a quote diary for him,” she muttered with a smile. “He would say,” she began and looked at Robby, clearing her throat for her best Jack impression, “it’s in the diary, ‘Dove…I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.’ Then he would be like, ‘Not in you, but in me. That I wasn’t there, but also that you went through this alone,’ isn’t that a Jack saying.” She smirked, proud of herself. Robby stared at her for a moment before nodding and chuckling.

“You’re right on point, Ace.”

“God, I know. I’ve been practising,” she hummed, smirking and sending him a wink and nudging his shoulder. “Anyway,” she whispered moments later. “You’re the Chief, fuck off and save lives.”

He looked at her again and nodded. “You right?” he asked, nudging her.

She looked at him for a moment, finding her words then broke in a smile. “I need a bloody case.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“I need them alive. But like a good adrenaline rush. Earlier, when you let me do that intubation,” she hummed, nudging him again, “convincing me to join the daylight?”

“You were moved to day shifts ten days ago,” he stated nonchalantly.

“So, I can always change. You are on salary, me…well, hourly.” Then she smirked. “I love you, Cowboy, but like, you need to convince me to stay on the day. Jack lets me do way more on our shift.”

He raised a brow, “It’s day. I can’t let you play being a doctor,” he stated. “Hate to break it to you, Ace, but you have a BSN, not an MD.”

“Well, fuck you too, Robby.” They stayed silent for moment. Then she smiled. “Hey, Cowboy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the mint,” she said with a smile, holding up the wrapper like a prize. “It helped. But not like a cigarette though.”

He chuckled. “Well, if you stay on days, I’ll buy you a pack and store it in my locker for when you need them. But you can only smoke between 8am-6pm before Jack comes.”

She smirks. “Marlboro lights, Cowboy. Take notes,” she hummed, winking.

He nodded as she dropped her hold. “Locked in mind, Ace,” he hummed, smirking. She nodded. “Go, save lives. I’ll be there in two.”

He nodded, kissing the side of her temple before squeezing her arm and walking away. For a second, he paused, turning on his toes to look at her. “I may be good friends with Jack, but talk to me, ok? We are friends.”

She smirked. “More than friends. Great friends, Cowboy. I’ll call you if I need you,” she muttered then lowered her voice, “better fucking do it to me if you need me.”

He stared at her, mouth dropping a second before nodding. “Affirmative.”

She smirked, watching him walk away. “That’s my saying!” she called out.

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Hope you enjoyed. xoxo

Ava <3

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader

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cumironi · 11 months ago

Note

Yuta and a 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 reader who has a habit of making nsfw jokes at any given time..?

SUPER FREAKY GIRL: YUTA OKKOTSU

yuta okkotsu loves having you as his girlfriend, but there is nothing that would prepare yuta from this side of you— making everything sensual; you just love having your shy boyfriend flustered and blushing, just overall giving him a hard time. . . and a boner.

w/c: 5.7k

warning : lots and lots of suggestive conversation, fluff.

𝜗𝜚 . . . i'm having too much fun writing this one because yuuta is one of my favorites jjk's character.

yuuta okkotsu is head over heels for you. as your boyfriend, he treasures the moments you share and finds immense joy in every little aspect of your relationship. he loves the way you look at him, how you laugh at his jokes, and the tenderness of your touch. however, there's a unique side to your dynamic that always keeps him on his toes and completely off guard.

you have an incredible talent for dropping cheeky, flirtatious comments at the most unexpected moments. whether you're out with friends, in a casual setting, or sharing a quiet evening alone, you never miss an opportunity to tease him with your playful remarks. it doesn't matter if you're surrounded by people or if it's just the two of you—your provocative comments come effortlessly, catching him by surprise every single time.

yuuta finds himself blushing and stumbling over his words, his usually composed demeanor melting away under your mischievous influence. the way you playfully provoke him, turning his calm and collected nature into a flustered mess, is something he can't quite get used to, even though he adores it. your comments add a layer of excitement and unpredictability to your relationship, making every interaction with you both exhilarating and endearing. It’s a playful dance that keeps your connection vibrant and full of sparks, and yuuta wouldn’t have it any other way.

just like that moment, you and yuuta were deep into your combat training at the usual training ground, along with your friends. as you both took a brief pause to catch your breath, you decided to lighten the mood with a flirty comment.

with a playful smirk, you said, “you know, yuuta, if you keep dodging my attacks like that, i might just have to find another way to catch your attention. should i flash you some tits?”

yuuta, slightly flustered and caught off guard, tried to maintain his composure but ended up stumbling over his own feet, falling to the ground with a surprised laugh. his cheeks flushed a soft pink as he looked up at you, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a charmingly embarrassed smile.

yuuta's reaction was absolutely adorable, and you couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction that you'd managed to break through his otherwise calm demeanor. he chuckled softly as he attempted to pick himself up from the ground, still wearing that endearing blush on his face.

“that's— ah. . .”

his voice was shaky, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but it was clear that your words had made his heart skip a beat or two.

“i-i wouldn't... mind— uh. . .”

and don't forget the other day when you and yuuta were hanging out with friends in inumaki’s room, the group chatting and laughing together. yuuta was seated on the floor beside you, comfortably leaning against the wall as he engaged in conversation with his friends. you, sitting next to him, were enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the easy camaraderie.

as the conversation flowed around you, you decided to add a bit of playful mischief to the mix. without drawing attention, you let your hand slide down and gently squeeze yuuta's thigh. his eyes widened slightly, and he momentarily faltered in his conversation, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

yuuta tried to maintain his composure, but the warmth of your touch and the unexpected squeeze made him shift uncomfortably. his friends, too engrossed in their discussions, didn’t notice the subtle exchange. you couldn't help but smile at his reaction, enjoying the way your simple gesture made him blush and fidget while trying to keep up with the conversation.

when your friends don't notice, you lean closer, “have you been working out with gojo, babe?” you smile at him, your sweet, sweet, innocent smile. “it feels like your thighs have gotten more muscle than before,” you give his thigh another squeeze. “can i make a mess on your thigh?” you whisper in his ear, slightly giving it a kiss.

you and your dirty jokes. . .

you were spending a cozy evening in yuuta okkotsu’s dorm room. the room was softly lit, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. you were lying on your stomach on his bed, deeply focused on your lego puzzle as you assembled the pieces with meticulous care. meanwhile, yuuta sat on the sofa near the bed, engrossed in a book, his gentle presence adding to the comfort of the night.

every now and then, you glanced over at yuuta, admiring the way he seemed completely absorbed in his reading, his eyes scanning the pages with a look of serene concentration. the quiet of the room was punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional click of lego pieces snapping into place.

you couldn’t resist taking advantage of the peaceful moment to tease him a little. with a playful smirk, you glanced up and called out, “babe, do you have a driver's license?” you ask him. yuuta looked up from his book, a hint of surprise on his face at the unexpected question. he blinked a few times, considering the question before replying.

“a... driver's license? yeah, i do. i got it a year ago. why do you ask?” his expression was equal parts confusion and curiosity, and he marked his page before fully turning his attention towards you. the lamplight cast a soft glow over his features, making his dark eyes seem even more intense as he looked at you, waiting for your response.

you smile, looking over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend, “do you think i need a driver's license, too, to ride you?” yuuta's face instantly turns a deep shade of scarlet, and he splutters wordlessly, clearly caught off guard by your suggestive comment. his heart rate quickens, and it's clear that your words have had quite the effect on him.

he swallows hard, attempting to regain his composure as he struggles to find a suitable response to your question. after a moment, he manages to blurt out a response, his voice shaky and his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

“y-you— uh, i mean, n-no, you don't. . .”

his cheeks were flushed, and he shifted nervously on the sofa, his heart still racing from your playful comment. he couldn't help but feel flustered by your boldness, but at the same time, he found your confidence and assertiveness incredibly attractive. clearing his throat, he tried to respond in a more composed manner, attempting to hide the effect your words had on him.

“no, baby... y-you don't need a d-driver's license to...” he stumbled over his words, unable to finish the sentence as his mind wandered to the possible implications. yuuta's brain is short-circuited, his thoughts overwhelmed by the sudden fantasy that had filled his mind. he flushed an even deeper shade of red, his eyes widening in surprise as his imagination ran wild for a moment. he clenched his jaw, trying to compose himself, but he couldn't shake off the effect your words had on him.

he swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the sofa as he tried to collect his thoughts. “baby, that's... um... t-that's not fair...” he groaned, almost whining.

you chuckled, amused by how easily your boyfriend became a blushing mess. you push yourself away from the comfort of his bed to walk over him. instinctively, yuuta opens his arms, gladly and warmly welcoming you to his lap.

“what's not fair? i'm just asking you a question,” you look down at him. yuuta's arms automatically wrap around you as you settle in his lap, pulling you closer to him. the warmth of his embrace provides a sense of comfort and intimacy, and he gazes up at you with a mix of slight embarrassment and affection.

“you know what's not fair,” he mutters, his voice still faintly hoarse from the earlier flustered response. he lets out a soft chuckle, his cheeks still tinged with a hint of pink. his eyes fix on yours, a slight pout on his lips as he pretends to be indignant.

“you're playing with my heart,” yuuta leaned back into the sofa, pulling you even closer against his chest as he continued to pout slightly. despite his feigned indignation, there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes, a glimmer of enjoyment in the way he reacted to your teasing.

his arms wrapped around your waist, his touch firm and warm. he could feel your body pressed against him, and the closeness only heightened the intimacy between you. his heart raced in his chest, the sound of it like a gentle thrum against your skin.

“you're being mean,” he accused, his voice soft and somewhat teasing. yuuta's grip on your waist tightened slightly, the playful pout still on his lips. he looked up at you with the cutest puppy dog eyes, his face the picture of exaggerated disappointment, but there was a hint of mischief behind his gaze.

he let out a soft sigh, his voice a playful grumble as he continued his act of indignation. “you're toying with my emotions... it's not fair. i can't handle it when you say things like that.”

yuuta's eyes never left yours, holding your gaze with a mixture of playful affection and mock frustration. he maintained his pout, his lips pressed together in a fake frown as he continued to grumble about your behavior.

he shifted slightly underneath you, causing your hips to press against his crotch, eliciting a sharp inhale from him as he seemed to be struggling to keep up with the charade. his hands moved to grip your hips, his fingers pressing gently into your skin as if to silently urge you to stop teasing him. “i'm sorry baby, didn't mean to,” you murmur, voice so low yuuta is afraid it reaches his crotch, especially with that little smile of yours. but knowing your nature, he knows you didn't feel sorry at all, not even a wee.

yuuta swallows hard, your sultry voice sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his core. despite your mock apology, he can tell from the look in your eyes that you're not even remotely sorry at all. he takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as your words and your body pressed against him have an undeniable effect on him. but he plays along, feigning a pout as he speaks in a slightly breathless voice.

“you're not sorry. you're a tease.”

yuuta's words were barely a murmur as he struggled to rein in the desires growing within him. he shifted slightly, his grip on your hips becoming more firm. his body tensed beneath you, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to maintain his composure. yet, despite his attempts to keep his cool, he couldn't help but find your teasing behavior incredibly tantalizing. the way you made his body respond so intensely to your every word and touch was both maddening and irresistible.

“no, i mean it, i'm really sorry,” you again, murmur softly. your hands are moving around, caressing yuuta's bare chest. now he kind of regrets wearing nothing but a black boxer when you are around.

yuuta's breath hitches as your fingers caress his bare chest, the sensation sending a rush of heat through his body. he bites his lip, trying to maintain his composure as your touch ignites a fire within him. he knows he's fighting a losing battle, but he still tries to keep up his act of feigned disappointment.

“you— ah. . . you really don't seem like you're sorry,” he replies as softly as he can, his voice sounding a little more huskier than usual. you laugh a little before shaking your head, “no, not at all.” slowly you move your hips— your palm puts pressure on his chest.

yuuta's eyes widen slightly as you move your hips, your touch causing a sharp intake of breath to escape from his lips. the pressure of your palm on his chest combined with your seductive movements makes his heart race even faster, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his restraint begins to falter.

“you... tease,” he whispers under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and undeniable desire. his hands grip your hips a bit tighter as he struggles to keep control of his own body's reactions. yuuta's body trembles involuntarily as you move against him, the friction between your bodies causing him to bite back a moan.

his eyes are fixed on yours, his expression now a mix of pleading and arousal. he wants you, desperately, but he knows you're enjoying this little game of tease and denial. he swallows hard, his voice strained as he speaks. “you, you're driving me crazy teasing me like this.”

suddenly, you stop moving, and he looks at you confused, eyebrows knitting together the moment his body is covered with cold nothing.

“i'm hungry,” you said. getting up from his lap and walking over to your phone. yuuta was too stunned to speak, he looked at you with eyes wide open, having his brain working twice as hard to process what the fuck is just happened— you standing near his bed with nothing but his navy blue shirt.

yuuta was left speechless, his body cold and abandoned as you abruptly got up from his lap. he sat frozen, watching you as you stood near the bed. his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions; frustration, confusion, and undeniable arousal. he felt vulnerable and exposed, his body still tingling from your touch, yet now left with nothing to relieve the tension.

“hungry?? seriously?”

yuuta’s voice was a bit strained, a mix of annoyance and disbelief. here he was, sitting there half-naked and flustered because of your actions, and all you could say was that you were hungry.

he ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts and regain his composure, but it was difficult to do so while feeling so exposed and wanting nothing more than to have you back on his lap.

“you… you can’t just leave me like this and then say you’re hungry…” he wanted to protest, to pull you back to where you belong and demand that you finish what you started. but he also knew you well enough to know that your teasing could continue for much longer if he didn't tread carefully. you turn your head, masking a confused look, purposely acting oblivious to make your boyfriend frustrated; it works. “like what?” you ask, “i can't eat now?” you added.

yuuta's frustration grew as you played oblivious, pretending to be completely unaware of the effect you had on him. his jaw clenched, and he let out a small, frustrated noise as he tried to find the right words to respond. he knew you were enjoying this, reveling in his growing frustration.

“no... you can eat later— i…”

he swallowed hard, his mind filled with images of you on top of him, your hands running all over his body. but he quickly shook his head, trying to snap out of his fantasies and focus on the current moment. you groan a little, pretend to be a little annoyed, “but baby, i'm hungry. . .” you look at him while pouting. you again, walk over and stand before him— making him eye-level with your bare thigh. your eyes focusing on your screen, scrolling through a bunch of restaurants and ready to order some food.

yuuta's breath catches in his throat as you step close to him again, his eyes fixated on your bare thigh right in front of him. his hands clench at his sides as he struggles to keep himself from reaching out and pulling you onto his lap.

he takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts and find some semblance of control, but the sight of you in that position makes it increasingly difficult. he can feel the tension and desire rising within him, and he knows you're just stoking the flames even higher.

“babe. . . we can order later.”

yuuta's voice is low and strained as he speaks. his gaze is fixed on your legs, the temptation to reach out and run his hands up your thighs almost unbearable. his heart is racing, and he's struggling to keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

leaning forward slightly, he looks up at you, his eyes pleading and filled with a mixture of lust and frustration, “can't we... can't we do something else first, please...?”

yuuta's gentle and desperate comment seemed to fall on deaf ears as you continued to focus intently on your phone, scrolling through various food options. absorbed in your thoughts, you muttered aloud about your cravings.

“hmm, what should we have for dinner tonight?” you pondered, your eyes glued to the screen. “i’m really craving some chicken. it sounds so good right now. what about you, babe? any particular food you’re in the mood for?” you didn’t even bother to look up, lost in your own world of food choices. yuuta’s dark blue eyes followed you with a frustrated face.

yuuta groaned internally as you continued to obliviously scroll through your phone and discuss dinner options. he knew you were teasing him, prolonging his suffering by pretending not to notice his growing desperation. his eyes darkened as he watched you, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment of this maddening game.

he bit his lip, trying to rein in his frustration and maintain his composure, but it was a losing battle. he wanted you, wanted you badly, and you seemed determined to keep him in this state of agonizing limbo.

“babe, please. . . i don't care about dinner right now,” his voice was strained, a mixture of frustration and desire as he pleaded with you to stop this maddening game. his hands gripped the edge of the sofa, knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to snatch your phone away and show you exactly what he wanted.

“i just want you, i need you... please. can we do something else first?” he couldn’t hide the pleading tone in his voice, the words coming out almost like a desperate whimper. yuuta's heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your response, his eyes fixed on you, silently begging you to put down the phone and give him the attention he so desperately craved.

he could feel the tension in the air, the palpable sexual energy between you both, and he knew that you were fully aware of the effect you had on him. but you continued to act nonchalant, driving him to the edge of his patience. he swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke again.

“babe... please...”

“later baby,” you mumble while your eyes are still on your phone, you touching his cheek for a second before walking away to sit on his bed. yuuta's heart sank as you dismissed him, your careless words and brief touch doing nothing to quell the fire burning within him.

he watched in disappointment as you walked away and sat on the bed, a small part of him hoping that you were just trying to build up the tension, but the logical part of his brain knew that you were actually serious about waiting.

he let out a frustrated sigh, his body still aching with desire as he tried to accept that he would have to wait a while longer for the release he craved.

“later? great...”

yuuta leaned back on the sofa, feeling defeated and frustrated by your lack of attention. he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and push aside the growing disappointment and lust coursing through his body. it was difficult, knowing that the object of his desire was right there, casually scrolling through the phone while he stewed in his own frustration.

he fidgeted on the sofa, shifting his weight and trying to find a comfortable position while he waited for you to finish your phone business so that you could finally give him the attention he craved so badly. yuuta's mind is raced, filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. he couldn't understand how you could be so unaffected by the tension and desire that was palpable between you both.

as he sat there waiting, he began to imagine different scenarios in his mind. scenarios where you suddenly set your phone down and pounced on him, giving him the release he so desperately needed. but he knew that was unrealistic, and it only served to frustrate him further.

“done!” you declared with a sense of satisfaction as you tossed your phone onto his bed. finally, you turned to yuuta, giving him a sweet, reassuring smile. with a playful bounce in your step, you pushed yourself off the bed and walked over to him, making him think that you were ready to spend some quality time together.

however, his hopeful anticipation quickly turned to confusion as you walked right past him and headed towards the fridge. opening the door, you bent over to peer inside, scanning the contents with focused determination.

“yuuta, baby,” you called out, “do you still have that vanilla ice cream? i’ve been craving it all day!” your tone was light and cheerful, clearly more interested in satisfying your sweet tooth than in the cozy moment he had hoped for. yuuta's face fell as he watched you walk past him without even acknowledging his desperate need for your attention. his heart sank as you bent over and started rummaging through the fridge, your focus completely on your craving for ice cream.

he couldn’t believe how easily you seemed to forget about his frustration and desire, as if they were completely insignificant compared to your hunger for sweets. he frowned as he spoke, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

“mmm, yeah, it’s still in there…”

after a thorough search through the fridge, you finally spotted the vanilla ice cream tucked in the back. with a satisfied grin, you pulled it out and made your way back to yuuta. you plopped down beside him on the sofa, the ice cream container now in your hands.

without giving yuuta much attention, you set the ice cream on the coffee table and reach for the remote. you turned on the tv, casually flipping through channels as you settled into a comfortable position beside him. you pull the shirt up to your chest, showing yuuta your matching black underwear. the evening’s cozy atmosphere resumed as you started to focus on the show, your attention now firmly on the screen and the ice cream in your hand.

yuuta watched with a mixture of disbelief and frustration as you sat down next to him, completely oblivious to the needs he had been shamelessly expressing just moments ago. he couldn’t believe that you were actually more interested in watching tv and eating ice cream than paying any attention to him.

“what are you doing?” he asked in disbelief. his eyes couldn’t help but roam over your body as you pulled the shirt up and revealed your matching underwear. his body involuntarily reacted to the sight, but it only frustrated him even more, knowing that you had no intentions of satisfying his desires.

you turn your head to him, a confused look coloring your pretty face with a pair of your eyebrows arch, “what? i didn't want the ice cream to get to your shirt,” you tell the boy before turning your attention back to the tv.

yuuta let out a small, scoffing laugh at your nonchalant response. he couldn't believe that you were even more concerned about getting ice cream on his shirt than you were about his obvious frustration and need.

“oh, thanks for that,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. “i really appreciate you looking out for my shirt, but i think i was hoping for your attention on something else…” you just nodded, clearly not really paying attention to whatever he just said.

yuuta gritted his teeth, feeling increasingly frustrated and ignored. he watched as you continued eating your ice cream and watching tv, as if he wasn’t even there. he could feel the heat rising in his body, a mixture of anger and arousal that he couldn’t seem to control.

he shifted on the sofa, trying to get more comfortable, but the friction between his body and the fabric only made his frustration grow even more. he clenched his fists and tried to speak calmly, despite the frustration threatening to boil over.

“love... can we talk for a minute?”

“hm?” you hummed softly.

you turn your head to him— eyebrows arching for the second time. he watches how you lick your ice cream, starting from the bottom, and dragging your tongue to the top before putting the ice cream full inside your mouth.

yuuta couldn't believe how completely innocent and oblivious you were acting as you licked your ice cream in that incredibly seductive manner. it was driving him insane, his body responding with desperate need even though he was angry at your indifference.

“can you... can you stop doing that for a minute?“ he tried to keep his voice steady, failing to conceal the desire lacing his words. “i need to talk to you about something... it's important.” your side lips irk, like you're mocking him, “what? you wish it was your dick, huh?”

yuuta's face flushed red at your blunt and accurate comment. it was as if you had read his mind and were now taunting him with his own desires. he fidgeted on the sofa, trying to keep his tone steady despite the obvious discomfort in his pants.

“shut up...” he muttered, his voice low and full of frustrated arousal. “i just want to talk to you about... something else, okay?” yuuta's eyes darken as you mock him with that smirk on your face, your words going straight to the growing frustration and arousal within him.

you nodded, “okay.”

but your hand is moving slowly— fingers pinching your ice cream stick and pulling it out and in for a few times, still with that mocking smirk in your lips. yuuta watched as your hand moved, and he couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary moan. he knew you were doing it on purpose, trying to tease and torture him even more, and it was working all too well. he bit his lip and clenched his fists, trying to keep his control and not give in to the growing need in his body.

“why... why are you doing this to me?” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desire and frustration. yuuta's body is tense as he watches you play with the ice cream stick, the sounds of your slurping and licking adding to his growing ache. he can feel his self-control slipping, the desire for you growing stronger with each passing moment.

“i just— i just want to talk to you... can you please. . .put the ice cream down for a minute?” his voice is pleading now, desperation bleeding into the words. again, you nodded, “yes, babe.” so you are putting the ice cream down— down to your throat until you gag before slowly pulling the ice cream out of your mouth.

yuuta’s eyes darkened as he watched you put the ice cream down your throat, the sight of you gagging only adding to the overwhelming mix of desire and frustration coursing through him. he swallows hard, his voice growing even more strained as he speaks, “y/n, that's not what i meant...”

yuuta's frustration and arousal reach a boiling point as he watches you continue to tease him on purpose, making it increasingly difficult for him to think clearly. he knows he should put an end to this maddening game, but his body is betraying him, responding to every action and movement you make.

he takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his desire and speak calmly, yet he can't help the hint of pleading in his voice, “can you please, just stop what you're doing and talk to me?” you nodded enthusiastically, your smile widening as you finally turned your attention back to yuuta. “yes, baby, i’m all done now. we can talk,” you reassured him, placing the ice cream stick down on the table with a contented sigh.

he noticed a small smudge of ice cream lingering at the corner of your lips. the sight made you look even more sensual. you were clearly enjoying the moment, and the bit of ice cream on your lips only added to the fire. it was white and creamy and all yuuta could ever think was how you look with his cum on your lips.

he swallowed hard, his mind wandering to thoughts of how you would look with it replaced by his own... he tried to brush away the thought, but the image was already burned into his mind. “thanks, listen, I really do need to talk to you about something...”

yuuta’s voice trailed off as his gaze fixated on the ice cream smudge on your lip. His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts and images of what he wanted to do to you, and he found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation. he cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even as he continued speaking, “it's important... or at least, i think it is, but i can't concentrate with... with...” he pauses, his eyes locked on that damn smudge of ice cream on your lip.

“with what?”

yuuta’s frustration and desire grew stronger as he continued to stare at your lip, the ice cream smudge taunting him. he knew he should just blurt out what he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and form a coherent sentence.

“that, that ice cream smudged... on your lip,” he manages to say, his voice strained and low, “it's distracting me.” he tried to keep his voice steady, but he could hear the slight waver in his tone, betraying the struggle he was having to keep his focus and control. he clenched his fists, silently willing you to just wipe that damn ice cream smudge off your lip, but you just sat there, seemingly oblivious to the effect it was having on him.

he shifted on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only served to remind him of the growing ache in his body. he wanted to reach out and wipe it off himself, but he knew that would only make things worse. he swallowed hard, his voice strained as he spoke again, “babe... can you please just wipe that ice cream off your lip? it's driving me insane.”

“oh?” your thumb moves across your lips, brushing the ice cream off of you before licking your finger. “sweet, just like when i swallow you.” yuuta's breath hitched as he watched you wipe the ice cream off your lips with your finger, and then casually licking it clean, as if you were blissfully unaware of the effect you had on him.

he couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at your nonchalant attitude, but at the same time, his body responded to the sight, stirring with renewed desire at your words, “babe... what are you doing to me...”

you taking off your shirt before moving closer, “wanna taste yourself?” you mumble on his lips after you ring your arms around his neck, closing any gap between you and him. yuuta let out a soft moan as he feels your lips on his, the taste of the sweet ice cream still lingering on them. your arms around his neck only added to his growing arousal, and he found it increasingly difficult to keep his control.

he let his hands roam over your bare skin, tracing the curves and ridges of your body with his fingers as he spoke in a ragged whisper, “god, you're driving me crazy... you know that?”

smiling, you whisper “i know,” on his lips as you push him to lie on the couch, slowly with you on top of him. yuuta's body responds eagerly to your touch and movement, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips and holding you gently in place on top of him. he can feel the heat from your body radiating through him, the sweet, lingering taste of the ice cream still clinging to your lips.

he looks up at you with a mixture of frustration and desire, his voice coming out in a low, gravelly whisper, “you're going to be the death of me, you know that? i-i want you so badly.”

“we can forget the chicken, i'm craving to get rail out of nowhere,” you mumble on his lips, licking his bottom lips. a low, guttural moan escapes from yuuta's lips as he feels you licking his bottom lip, his body responding immediately to your touch and words. he can feel his resolve slipping as his hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you even closer to him on the sofa.

he manages to speak through gasps and breaths, “jesus... the things you do to me.” he can feel the heat of your body pressed against his, his hands begin to roam over the bare skin of your back, tracing the contour of your curves as he no longer fights the rising tide of desire and frustration within him.

by the end of the night, yuuta had certainly made sure that you were thoroughly exhausted and satisfied, paying you back for all the teasing and driving him crazy. the combination of his pent-up frustration and desire had led to a night of intense passion and energy that left you both breathless and spent.

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scarlet-star-witch · 11 months ago

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The shackles of duty

Summary: In the aftermath of Aegon's fall in the Battle of Rook's Rest, Aemond envisions his future as King with his Queen at his side

Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and in a secret relationship with Aemond

Part 2 to His Sacrifice

WC: 2.2 K

Warnings: Implied smut, possessive Aemond, kinda dark Aemond, but not really, he's more pathetic than anything

Aemond stared at the plumes of smoke that billowed from where his brother and his dragon had fallen.

His heart still raced with satisfaction, the adrenaline pumping through his veins keeping him in an almost high-like state he never wanted to come down from. His victorious smirk remained as he turned to the woman beside him who stared at the smoke with a conflicted expression.

“With any luck, Aegon has perished, or at least will in due time.”

She looked to Aemond, the furrow in her brow deep, betraying her indecision and unease.

She always knew what Aemond was capable of, she knew of the darkness within him, but to see it now, displayed so blatant before her very eyes, shook something within her, something she didn’t know she could feel towards the man she had loved for so long.

Aemond grabbed her hands, holding them in his tightly as he turned to face her fully.

“We can go back to King’s Landing. With Aegon’s state, I will be named Regent. I will sit the throne and you will be my Queen.”

“What?” She breathed out, the only word she’d been able to speak in the past few minutes.

“Aegon is not long for this world, surely. It won't be long until I become King. No one can deny us anything now. We can marry, you can stay with me by my side, we can rule together.” Aemond spoke with a franticness that was so unlike him, it unsettled her more than the gleam of desire in his eye in that moment.

“Aemond…”

“We can finally be together.” He reminded her as his hand reached out to grasp her cheek affectionately, the longing he displayed tearing her insides, as if she were being pulled in two radically different directions.

She watched him for a long moment, savoring the sight of that beautiful face she’d spent the past few years memorizing, every perfect dip and curve that never failed to leave her breathless, and emotion swelled as she realized she’d have to break his heart.

“I can’t go with you.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow, as if saying it quietly would mean it wouldn’t completely destroy him.

His lip twitched, his smile fading slowly as he took in her words, praying he had misheard her. His grip on her hands tightened, as if he could keep her with him, as if he could forever stop her from leaving his side.

“But…”

“Aemond, you know I cannot go with you. No one will accept-”

“Fuck what they think! You are mine and the second I sit on that throne I can make it so. No one could stop us.”

She shook her head and moved to pull away, but he didn’t let her, his hand sturdy in hers, a look of heartbreak on his face as he felt her hesitation.

“We are at war, Aemond. Our marriage will not solve anything, it won’t miraculously dissolve what is happening in our family, it will only create more chaos.”

“I don’t care.” Aemond spoke through gritted teeth as he stepped towards her, his hands now cradling her face. “I don’t give a shit about this war, you are all I want.”

She sniffled, bowing her head to avoid looking into his eye. It was too painful to see how she was hurting him.

“Think about what you are asking of me.”

“I am asking you to be with me.”

“You are asking me to abandon my mother!” She yelled.

His chest ached, the rush he’d been thriving on suddenly turning to despair as he looked at her, realizing he wouldn’t soon have her in his arms as he had hoped.

“We can fix this.” He spoke with reverence, but it did little to soothe the storm within her.

“Maybe we could have… but that was before- before Lucerys.”

Aemond flinched, recoiling as if she had delivered a physical blow.

“You know my regret for what happened. You know I would have never willingly jeopardize-”

“I know, I know.” She whispered tearfully, her hands moving up to grip at his wrists, feeling his pulse race beneath her touch.

She remembered the night after learning of her brother’s death as she met Aemond on their Island, how he immediately fell to his knees in forgiveness, how he let her scream and cry and rage at him, how they held each other as they cried, knowing the state of their family had broken beyond repair, ruining what little chance they thought they had to one day be together as they wanted.

She wiped her tears and with one last gentle caress to his hands, pulled them away from her, taking a step backwards before he could reach out to her once more.

“I have to go.”

With every step she took away from him, he took a step closer, his face shifting each time she moved, his frown growing deeper and deeper as it abruptly dawned on him that he was about to lose her, yet again.

“Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, the sight of him blurring as tears sprang to her eyes. She turned and didn’t look back as she climbed upon Vermithor, ignoring the pit that grew in her stomach, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that screamed at her to stay with him.

She didn’t dare spare him a look. She knew she’d cave if she did, that she would fall back into his arms and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

She wiped her tears as she flew, ignoring the pull she felt to her other half as the distance between them grew greater.

A yell of pure rage escaped him as he flipped the table in his room. He grabbed anything he could get his hands on, throwing any and every object he found across the room, destroying everything in his line of sight.

His bed was in disarray, the tapestries that lined the walls torn to pieces at his feet, candles knocked to the ground, trinkets shattered into nothing but dust as he raged.

He only stopped when there was nothing left to ruin.

His chest heaved with exertion as he let himself slump against his bed, burying his face in his hands as he struggled for breath, forcing himself not to let his tears fall.

His mind raced with her words, each like a dagger to the heart, each one tearing away a piece of him, leaving him unwhole and untethered to the one thing in the world he cared about.

Nothing made sense without her. It had only been hours and he was already spiraling.

Simply picturing her beautiful face caused his chest to ache, as if the dagger of her words had been real, causing him to bleed and fade away until there was nothing left of him.

He could not let this be the end.

With a half-formed plan in his mind, he stood with haste and reached for his cloak, ensuring the hood covered his head and stepped out of his room, his steps quick and purposeful.

He would not let her slip away from him again.

Her mind was racing, keeping her from her much needed sleep. She couldn’t stop picturing Aemond’s face, the pain she had caused him stirring her own.

She couldn’t ignore the regret that overtook every inch of her. While she loved her mother and longed to see her as Queen, she couldn’t deny that Aemond had stitched himself within the fabric of her, he was now a part of her she couldn’t ignore.

She didn’t quite know when it happened, all she knew was that it was too late to go back now, too late to pretend she felt nothing for him. She couldn’t move forward without him.

She had to see him.

She hissed a curse and tore the covers off, getting to her feet and dressing in her riding leathers quickly, acknowledging the stupidity of her plan, but steadily ignoring it.

It was easy to sneak out of the castle. She’d been doing it for years now, she could do it with her eyes closed.

It took little time to get Vermithor in the air and on the course for King’s Landing, her heart in her throat as she flew. She didn’t know what awaited her, what danger she would be placing upon her head, all she knew was that once there, Aemond would never let any harm befall her.

It was the only assurance she needed to drive forward into enemy territory.

Suddenly, the bellowing roar of a dragon sounded over the din of the wind.

She startled and narrowed her eyes, the moon providing light for her to see, but as the hulking figure of the dragon coming before her became clear, she soon realized, her eyes widening as she stared back at Vhagar.

A breathless laugh escaped her, pure relief overtaking her as she realized Aemond was in the same state she found herself in, unable to settle for their circumstance.

She pulled at the reins, directing Vermithor to descend, heading towards their Island with Aemond following seconds behind.

The two mighty dragons landed and their riders met each other's gaze, the both of them taking a moment to simply admire each other, their shared smiles of equal relief and awe that they had had the same thought, the same longing to see each other.

Her hands almost shook with anticipation as she untied herself from the saddle.

She felt nervous, as if it were their first meeting in secret, as she approached him, but her reservations didn’t last as Aemond stepped towards her quickly, with no hesitation.

A shaking breath escaped her as she was pulled into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered weakly, her voice strained as her throat tightened, overwhelmed to be back in his loving arms.

He shook his head and held to her tighter, softly whispering his relief to see her again

Time was lost to them as they embraced, as they held each other as only lovers could.

“I don’t know what will happen next.” She mumbled, hating to break the moment with their reality, but it wasn’t something they could ignore for much longer.

“I don’t either.” He admitted quietly. “But what I do know is that, whatever I do, it will not be without you. I don’t care how many times I will have to chase you down and bring you back to me, I won’t lose you.”

“You won’t have to chase me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His exhale of relief was loud and she barely had time to apologize again before he was kissing her firmly, leaving them both breathless and lightheaded with desire.

His touch was desperate as he laid her down in the dewey grass. It was familiar to them, these fleeting and frantic touches all they could spare in the war that ravaged their families.

He took her with an intensity as if it had been years since he’d felt her touch and not mere days as it had been. She felt more loved than ever before as he lavished his praise onto her, as his lips caressed every inch of her, as he made love to her with the burning passion as only a man in love could.

Their cries of pleasure echoed on the desolate Island, their secret remaining shrouded in darkness and isolation.

As he spilled his seed within her, his call of her name sending shivers down the length of her body, she held him tightly, wishing she could hold onto him forever, wishing she didn’t have to leave his side time and time again.

He wasn’t quick to part from her, laying over her, his hands still eager to touch her, to remember the curves of her body in fear that it would be the last time.

But they would never let it be the last, not as long as they still breathed life.

He left her side with a promise to see her the next night.

There was no mention of the throne, of titles or battles. It didn’t exist in their time together, the both of them determined to blissfully ignore the reality that was slowly crushing them, slowly pulling them further and further apart, no matter how hard they tried to fight it.

He lingered in her mind as she woke alone but sated, the phantom bliss of his touch, bringing a smile to her lips in the early morning. She could still feel the warmth between her thighs, feel the pleasurable burn of the marks he had left on her body.

She smiled politely as her maid entered, placing breakfast down for her.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Princess?”

Moon tea.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. She trusted her handmaiden, she’d never given her a sideways glance over the past years when she requested the drink. Her mother was still blissfully unaware, which meant her maid was at least keeping her secret.

Yet the words didn’t come, a decision made in a fraction of a second.

“No, thank you. That is all.”

As her maid left, her hand drifted to her stomach, a smile forming on her lips as she wondered what their child would look like.

Hope you enjoyed! I have more Aemond content coming! I literally have a thousand ideas for this beautiful man, so stay tuned xx

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen fanfic

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sttoru · 2 years ago

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‘toji doesn’t know how to properly give aftercare — nor did he care to do so before. but, meeting you changed his ways of thinking.’

☀︎｜toji fushiguro x female reader. suggestive; fluff, comfort, angst. established relationship. hint of an age gap between toji and reader. mention of virgin!reader. mention of toji’s previous / past wife. grumpy sad dilf toji who learns how to love again t_t. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl’. self indulgent? yessir.

toji grunts and his exhausted body collapses to the side, careful not to crush you underneath his burly figure. he drapes one arm over his eyes with the other resting near his side. his eyelids felt heavy — clearly needing some rest after hours of continuous bodily satisfaction.

he had gone a bit overboard this once. even toji himself was feeling the aftermath since his muscles were aching and his brain was telling him to go to sleep. the assassin was about to, however his ears picked up on a little muffled whimper sounding from beside him.

“mmph,” you sniff. your face was still buried in the pillow below you — your tears and drool staining the material. your limbs were trembling and you were completely and utterly spent. you couldn’t even turn around to lay on your back; it was all just too much.

toji watches you with an unchanging expression for a second. normally for him this would be the part where he’d get the money, dress himself back up and leave through the front door with a small ‘thanks for your time’ comment.

but, that was his past. that was after the death of his wife and before he had met you — that was a dark time where he sought money in any kind of way to ease the hidden guilt and pain in his body. he’d sleep with women for a pay check. and maybe also to simply forget about his miserable life.

toji thought that he wouldn’t ever love himself nor another person again after his life went downhill. though, that thought was proven wrong by you.

you were a girl whom he had met on numerous occasions by accident to the point you decided to exchange phone numbers. you had also eventually started to help toji with his son - megumi - during tough times.

a sweet young woman: that’s what you were and still are in his eyes. maybe you were the change toji needed. the miracle to heal from his past and get himself together.

“hey,” the dark-haired man speaks up in a gruff tone after taking in your weak state. he felt a faint twinge of guilt deep within him since he was the reason you ended up like that. perhaps he took it too far.

you looked up at toji through half-closed and watery eyes. all you could do was tiredly hum in response, “mhm?”

silence follows. it’s not really awkward, but there was a barely noticeable sense of insecurity radiating from the assassin. for the first time in a good while.

toji’s eyes dart around the room in hopes of finding or seeing something that would remind him of what to do in such a situation. aftercare; he knew how important that is after sex, but had forgotten how to properly execute it. he hadn’t done so in a good few years.

that could also be an excuse. maybe he was simply afraid to show any kind of affection to someone again. maybe.

despite all of it — despite all those complex thoughts and feelings — his body moved on its own command. toji shifted closer to your side, rough hand slowly reaching out to give you some head pats. that’s the best he could do for now.

“heh.” you chuckle, yet felt extremely happy that toji had shown any type of affection toward you in such a vulnerable moment. his fingers massaging your scalp gently, over and over, was enough of a sign for you. a sign that he cares.

you knew all about his hard life; past and present. you accepted toji for who he was and what he has done and does. one of the only people who’d stay by his side throughout it all.

“thanks, toji.” the words that left your lips made the older man silently nod. his touch grew a bit more confident after your positive reaction. his hand traveled down to the nape of your neck and over to your shoulder, turning you around so you could lay comfortably on your back.

toji couldn’t help but let his eyes wander across your gorgeous skin. even if it was sweaty and covered in other bodily fluids, it still was one of the most beautiful sights he had seen in his entire life.

“you okay?” he asks to which you give a weary nod. she’s far from okay judging by the looks of it, toji thought to himself.

he hesitantly leans his head down to plant a quick kiss on your shoulder. that did feel a bit awkward, though it turned loving the more you positively reinforced him with your verbal reactions.

toji sighs as he tries his best to keep you as comfortable as possible around him. his hands grab you by your sides and he hoists you up onto his lap, gently pushing your head against his chest; “c’mere my little girl.”

you happily accept the affection toji gives you. it wasn’t often that he’d do this after sex and you understand why. it takes a lot to heal from his previous wounds and you were there to support him throughout that journey. the fact that he was trying was enough.

“you’re nice ‘n warm,” you murmur, eyes droopy as you snuggle against toji’s bare chest. the older man chuckles at your comment and his big hands come to rest on your back to hold you in place — to give you a sense of security.

you didn’t have any regrets about tonight nor about any other night spent in bed with him. toji was the only man whom you were content with showing your body to. he’d never judge nor hurt you in any way, unlike the other more immature men in your indirect environment.

plus, you remember how unexpectedly gentle the big and scary looking man was with you during your first time a few days back. he was the perfect man for you in your eyes—in his own way.

“y’r real pretty. like a doll.”

the sudden compliment forces you awake. you blink thrice, trying to make sense of what you had heard. was it your imagination? no, it definitely sounded like toji. that deep and now almost groggy voice.

you lift your head up and lock eyes with the assassin. he was looking right back at you whilst the pad of his thumb delicately wipes some drool off your right cheek. you quietly stared at him for a good while which makes toji raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“pfft.” you let out a short laugh. you were both embarrassed and amused at the loving words that the older man had told you out of the blue. it made you feel tingly all over in a good way.

“what? did i say somethin’ weird?” toji questions as his hands slowly roam all over your body like they usually would, squeezing and rubbing longer in some spots, “i jus’ said what i observed.”

there was no hiding that lopsided grin on toji’s lips. the soft sound of your laughter was enough to make his entire body relax and give in to the warmth of the moment and the love that radiates between you two. you really were meant to be with him.

“no, no.” you shake your head after giggling. your lips find a spot on his chest to place a kiss upon in response, “it was cute.”

toji huffs at being called cute. no one had ever called him that. it didn’t really hurt his pride or ego — you could call him anything you wanted to and he wouldn’t mind. his rough hand does however give you a light smack on the ass after that.

“y’re lucky i love you, doll.” he grumbles and nuzzles his nose into your hair. the words left his lips before his brain had processed them. it was probably said subconsciously since toji doesn’t realise that he uttered the three words. the three words he usually hesitates on saying now flowing off the tongue so naturally.

you weren’t going to ruin the moment by teasing him about it. you were just happy that toji didn’t think twice before telling you that he loved you this time. it was a huge step forward in your relationship.

you simply giggle some more before placing a kiss on his lips that he instantly reciprocates.

“i love you too, toji.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x you

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harrington-stevie · 5 months ago

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back to you | E.M.

Summary: You were supposed to go with Eddie to Robin's wedding, but he broke up with you months before. You mock him every chance you get, but he's grown annoyed over it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), unprotected sex (p in v), slight choking, aftercare; Exes to lovers;

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Note: Eddie has shorter hair (ps: I know this is a manip but I truly loved it)

Word count: 5.2k

✮⋆˙

You're so annoying, you always get on his nerves. You obviously do it on purpose purely for your own satisfaction of seeing him being pissed.

Eddie can't stand looking at the way you stay too close to his best friend, Gareth. You're dancing around with the geek, who invited you over to the dance floor at Robin's wedding party.

Months ago you were invited to her and Vickie's wedding. You were supposed to go with Eddie, before he decided to break up with you. You were invited to be her bridesmaid, and he was going to be your plus one. He ended up being a plus one to some girl your group of friends didn't know about. And your plus one was none other than Steve.

It ate him alive for the first two months. To know that you were going with his best friend, who also was your best friend. And the one he knows you likely fool around with sometimes. Which is why he feels the burning sensation in his stomach when he sees the way you slap his chest playfully whenever he makes a stupid joke. Because he knows you're doing it only to get under his skin.

Back before you were broken up, Eddie wondered about a few things about your relationship. He was having a hard time finding a new job, only getting paid when he was doing the concerts with his band. He still lives in the trailer with his uncle, most people think he's the town freak. He came up with the decision by himself, even though it meant breaking your heart.

He thought he was doing the best for you. You didn't. You thought he was being selfish. You thought he was being childish and completely imprudent. He cried, he made you cry. You knew he still loved you. You still know he does, but at what cost? He wanted to let you go.

And this is why you do anything to piss him off. You don't need to struggle, because the simplest things you do are enough for him to become impossibly mad at you. You always add fuel to the fire. Steve told you to stop. Robin did the same. Until they stopped paying mind to it. As you're dancing with Gareth, you look from the corner of your eyes how he's nursing the same fucking beer for the past forty minutes. He's just so stupid.

A few girls came by to ask him for a dance and he turned down every offer. He refused to step out of his spot. Jonathan came by and started making fun of his own moves. Ripping a laugh from you both. Soon, the girls joined him. He wanted to ask you out once, but you thought you would only accept it to get back to Eddie.

He knows that deep down you still love him and it's obvious. And your friends don't want to come in between you two, because it's not their business.

You feel Eddie approaching the small circle, still holding the bottle of beer in his hand. He tries to dance with Gareth, but it's not like him to do that unless he's in the mood. And you're 100% sure he's not. He has to lean in and speak over your ear for you to hear him. The loud music is blasting through the speakers. You don't always let him do that, but you're curious to know what he has to say.

He asks if you two could talk and you simply respond "no". You then continue to dance with your friends, while he clenches his jaw and watches as you fully ignore him again. Gareth knows what his friend is going through, so he stops dancing and pulls his friend to a table.

You're in your small bubble of happiness, even though you can feel that small pinch in your stomach. Because you wished it was different.

You wished you were dancing with him now. You so wished you could have a slow dance with him. But the next best thing is Steve. You're already settled with yourself you'd let him fuck you tonight. You never crossed that line before, but you're trying to live a different life now. It hurts less to think of the mess Eddie made. He left the pieces so you'd pick them up alone.

From the dance, to the karaoke time, he wouldn't stop looking at you. He tried. He swears he tried to focus on something else. He forced himself to dance with another girl, he forced himself to start a conversation with another girl. But he noticed that the only thing he was getting was the regret biting his ass. The bitter taste of it at each swig of the beer that was already hot in his hand. And it wasn't the taste of the beer that was bitter anymore.

You were never an attention seeker before. Now you're doing it every time he's around and he feels his blood pleasure rising each time you do something that catches his attention. Why is he even mad if he's the one to break up with you? Why is he mad that you're making his skin crawl when you grab Steve's arm and squeeze it, looking at his direction?

Why doesn't he move on with his life if he wanted to let go of you? He asks himself that every single living day of his life. And you do too. You just don't let it be known.

Eddie almost breaks the bottle in his hand when he notices you're dancing with your back to Steve. Your ass almost touching him, his firm hands under the line of your breasts, his chin resting on top of your shoulder as he sings along the lyrics over your ear.

He stands up from his seat, walking to the bar, where he asks for a glass of whiskey. Does he like the drink? Absolutely not, but he's miserable. He needs something stronger to get through the night.

He downs it in one gulp, asking for another shot. He's starting to feel defeated, because he can't handle the feeling of losing you. He lost you for no reason whatsoever. It's been months and he can't even begin to explain to himself just why he would do that. Now he watches as you almost grind against his best friend, wishing he was the one behind you. He turns his back at you and stares down at the empty glass. It took him long enough to give up watching you, but he can't do that all night and not enjoy the party. In fact, he can't seem to have the energy to do that.

Eddie sighs and drags himself out of the bar, walking out. He walks down the long hallway, looking for the bathroom. You don't hear the footsteps approaching, he doesn't know you're also there. It's a fucking unisex bathroom and you forgot to lock the door. He feels unlucky because he knows you'll think he came after you. But little does he know, you might put on a show tonight and piss him off even more.

"You might be the happiest person in this party tonight" He snaps you out of your thoughts, as he leans against the wall outside the bathroom.

You're still fixing your dress when you look up at him. His face holds a harsh expression, his arms are crossed over his chest. It might be the first time you ever see his hair in place because he used a hair fixing spray. Otherwise it would've been all messy already.

"I have no idea what you're on about" You don't give him the pleasure of your attention. You just keep walking back to the hall.

He walks behind you, following you. He scoffs and tries to reach out to you.

"Seriously, you should just drop the act for a second"

That makes you halt on your tracks and look over your shoulder. He hears the bitter chuckle you let out. He knows he struck a nerve.

"What act, Munson?" You hated calling him by his last name and he hated how it sounded coming from you. "I'm just having fun with my friends"

You continue walking, your heels echoing through the hallway. Eddie hates to admit that you look gorgeous wearing that dress. It's a dark green silky fabric with a slit, the straps are thin and the gown reaches the floor.

He catches up to you, gripping your wrist without force. You feel him pulling you back and walking towards the bathroom again, locking both of you inside. Your heart is strumming against your chest, your palms are sweaty. You haven't been this close to him in such a long time.

"Can you stop being so conceited for just a second?" This time you are the one to cross your arms when he speaks up. "If you're trying to prove a point, you did it. Congratulations!"

Eddie holds his waist like a mother scolding her child. It's kind of ridiculous, you think.

"I'm not trying to prove anything. You're just mad because you can't stand the fact that I'm moving on while you're feeling sorry for yourself. Which is good, you deserve it" You smirk and wink at him, leaving him completely silent.

It didn't last long. He laughs loudly, his head goes back and his chest is roaring. His smokey laugh is something you don't miss, to be honest. It's probably the only thing, though.

"How are you even moving on if you can't stop trying to mock me at every opportunity you have?" He takes a step forward, watching as you almost shrink backwards. "'Cause let me tell you something, darling. You're far from being over me"

He uses the nickname deliberately. He knows it makes you soft for him, you've always loved it when he called you that.

"I don't think you're capable of noticing how I don't give a shit about you anymore, darling" You sneer back.

There's not much space left between you two. You're already leaning against the sink and he's just a palm's length from you. You try to be reasonable, you try to convince yourself you don't care about him. You try to warn your body that you don't want him anymore. You keep your chin up, because otherwise you know you'll give in.

"The way you act when you're around my friends says otherwise. But really, you keep telling yourself that. There's a mirror behind you if it helps"

He's being sarcastically annoying. He's using his remarks against you because you know he's hurt. He's been hurt ever since he left your place. And your only way of living with the fact he wanted to break things up, is for you to play your own game.

But now it doesn't seem like it's working anymore. You try to avoid his gaze, the way his fingers tap against his biceps. You try to avert your eyes from looking at the chest hair that's peeking from his shirt. Just like his tattoos. He never wears those, it makes your head pound. He notices your reaction immediately and chuckles.

"Oh. So now you can't look at me?" Eddie finally closes the distance between you two, leaning against you. Your exposed neck clearly invites him. His breath hits your skin and you shiver, gripping the sink tightly over your hands. "What? I'm too intimidating?"

His voice is gruff, you can smell the whiskey in his breath and the perfume he's wearing. It's musky and addicting. The fact is, he's hardly ever intimidating. He's just doing it now to see you break down your walls and let him in. For a few seconds, you keep your guard up. And you use it for leverage as you push him backwards.

He makes you nervous. You don't know what kind of reaction he has on you now. He flicks his eyes from your pointed forefinger to your furrowed eyebrows.

"Don't you think you've done enough already?" Your voice is almost cracking, and as you try to leave the bathroom, he doesn't let you.

He's never been rough. Even now, he doesn't want to be rough. He carefully holds your wrists with both hands and pushes you against the wall. His nose almost bumps into yours.

"You know what you're doing. You're ruining me. And you're wrecking me. And I know you have all the right to do that, but I left you alone. I'm already a broken man, so you should just leave me alone as well if you really want to move on"

He's breathing heavily, his lips are almost twitching. You know you made him miserable, but the urge of feeling superior made it to your head. And you couldn't stop doing it. You like fooling around with Steve, you like to watch the regret and sorrow crossing over Eddie's eyes when you're around each other.

He kept his gaze at you. He was waiting for another snide remark to come from you. He anticipated your jabs at him because now that's how it felt like when talking to you. When you didn't respond or moved, he sighed. He let go of your wrists, dropping his weight over his hands that rested on each side of your head against the tiles of the wall.

"I thought I was doing you a favor. Being broke, being made fun of, being chased around as the "Satan worshiper". Getting behind in school. I mean, look at me" He shook his head. You intently heard his ranting. "Don't I look like a decent person wearing this?"

He pulls the fabric over his chest, showing you what he means. You know what he means. He's trying to say he looks better wearing clothes that aren't ripped, or that aren't patterned. Eddie has his own style, but he thinks it comes with the consequence of him being known as the freak.

"So let's be honest. I was just going to slow you down. You could have anyone. You're almost there already, because you have Steve. And that guy is every mother's dream of a son in law" His tone is bitter. He's jealous of Steve.

But not exactly because of his look. But because he's lucky to have you with him.

"I couldn't let you do it. You deserve so much better than me. I mean, I try my best at everything but I know I'll always be a failure" He stands in front of you looking the smallest he's ever felt in his life.

And you hate to be the one to fix it. Because he broke you. But he's been broken for a long time, you just couldn't help him more because he wouldn't let you.

"Are you done, Eddie?" You speak up after his monologue. He lifts his head up and furrows his brows in confusion at you. "I heard you, so now you're gonna listen to me"

He doesn't say a word, you're the one caging him now. Even though you're shorter than him, you confront him as he looks at you expectantly. You feel your throat burning, your eyes start to itch. You want to cry so hard right now. You want to scream at him and make him see how much you still love him.

"Don't you ever say you're a failure. You're the closest thing Wayne has to a family, you're practically his son. He's the proudest uncle you could ever imagine" You grip on his shirt tightly, the collar of the fabric getting completely creased. "You don't know how much our friends love you and how much you make them happy. Don't you ever see the way they laugh at your stupid jokes?"

Eddie feels his own eyes getting glassy. He was never ashamed of crying.

"You've always worked hard. You're a huge hard worker and you don't see that. You're so fucking blinded by the negative thoughts, you don't see the other way of life! You're so stupid you don't see how much I love you. How proud I am of you. How I couldn't care less about whatever the fuck those people think of you!"

You feel your chest ripping apart from seeing the way his tears are rolling against his face. His lips quiver and he can't seem to avoid your eyes. He sees right through you. He knows you still love him. He knows you never stopped loving him. And you feel like you can't help but feel sorry for him. For the way he thinks he doesn't deserve better.

"You deserve the whole fucking word, Munson" Your breath gets caught in your throat from crying. "You just don't see that. You don't want to see that. So you push people away because you think you're doing us a favor. But you know you're not".

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm fucking sor–" Eddie sobs audibly and drops his head over your shoulder. He cries loudly and can't hold back the tears that are falling harshly. You let him cry out.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stroking his hair softly. You rest your cheek against his head, crying quietly because you can't stand being loud.

His voice comes out muffled from his position. "I do everything wrong. I can't even think of how I'm going to fix this. And it fucking hurts"

He grips your shoulder tightly. He's not feeling strong enough to let go just yet, so he stays like that. He's murmuring apologize after apologize next to your ear as he tries to stop himself from crying.

You spend several minutes holding each other. You don't know how your make up isn't that ruined, but you thank God for the waterproof mascara. At least it's still intact. As for the eyeshadow, you're not so sure.

Eddie seems to settle down, his shoulders are slumped and he's not sniffing against your skin anymore. He still takes a couple of minutes to compose himself, lifting his face from your shoulder. His eyes are bloodshot and his eyelids are kind of swollen. He grabs a piece of toilet paper to dry the tears that were left. You're caught off guard when he brings another piece to clean your smudged make up.

He's careful to not rip the rest of it off. Your heart flutters at the action. And he notices how soft your eyes have become. How your demeanor shifted to a less tense body. You grab his hand and pull him closer, placing your lips softly against his. Eddie closes his eyes and hums to the touch.

"I'm sorry for being so hard on you. I know I was being a bitch" You speak with your mouth still against his.

He places one hand over your jawline, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

"We're quite even, I guess"

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, his teeth grazing against your lower lip. "You look gorgeous"

You don't know how to respond to this. Your first reaction is to hide your face on the crook of his neck. Wrong choice. You inhaled his scent, the smell hitting your nostrils like a punch to the gut. You wanted to bite him. You wanted to do atrocities with him. You just had the most vulnerable moment together, he was crying over your shoulder and there you were thinking dirty things.

"You don't look so bad yourself" You try to play cool, your heartbeat starting to become unsteady.

Eddie finds his way to your earlobe, hovering over your skin. His husky tone fanned your ear "I couldn't help but wish I could fuck you in this bathroom"

You felt that cold shiver traveling through your entire body. There's a turning point for you when he gently gives you a bite in the soft area and pulls it.

He slowly made his way to your back and stood behind you. His chest barely touches you. He slid one hand over your shoulder, his fingertips dropping to the side of your arm.

"Look how beautiful you are" He placed his hand over your chin so you'd look at yourself in the mirror.

He used the same hand, slithering it across your back, carefully pushing you forward until you're bending over the sink. He slowly unzips your dress, using his knuckles to ghost over your skin, until he reaches your lower back. He loves the curves, the dimples. Eddie feels his heart racing, the blood pumping in his ears. He removes the straps of the dress from your shoulders, watching your dress pool on your feet.

You’re still watching it through the mirror, the way he looks at your skin with passion, the way his fingers touch you in the slightest way. He grabs your waist with both hands and swings you over so you face him. He’s mesmerized. He missed you so much. He missed seeing you, kissing you, looking at you. He doesn’t want to waste another minute without you anymore.

You’re the first to pull him for another kiss, it’s desperate and you clash your teeth together. He glides his hands down, groping your ass, sinking his fingers down your skin. You’re only wearing lace underwear, the soft fabric doesn’t do much to protect your heated core from feeling his bulge against you. You unbutton his shirt, fumbling with it as you leave it open.

Your hands travel through his tattooed chest, down his stomach. Eddie grunts in your mouth, leaving a trace of kisses when he pulls away. He spreads small kisses on your neck, down your chest, until he’s in the middle of your breasts. He sticks his tongue out and licks your skin, slowly reaching your nipple. He rolls it around your hardened skin and sucks on it. He cups your other breast with his free hand and rubs circles around your nipple.

You grip his hair tightly, tangling it between your fingers as you bite your lip. Eddie never missed an opportunity to make you feel good, and he’s doing it now. He always thinks of you first whenever it comes to sex and it’s not different this time.

He sucks on your skin desperately and pinches your nipple, enjoying the whimpers you let out. You feel his rough fingertips sliding down your stomach, reaching your inner thigh. They slip through the fabric of your underwear, reaching your soaking slit. You mewl, throwing your head back.

He's still playing with your nipple between his teeth, all while his fingers slip up and down your core, stroking your clit softly. He works his hand fast on your pussy, pulling two fingers into you. He listens to your mumbles, your moanings and hums in excitement. His pants are becoming too tight to his cock that's aching for you. You can't hold back the sounds you're making, your head is hanging back, almost leaning against the mirror.

"Eddie, please. I-" You pull on his hair when he pumps you faster, curling his fingers into you.

He's making noises from sucking your tits, he's being as loud as he can and he loves the way you react to it. You love the way his ringed fingers slip in and out of you, you love watching him fucking you.

You instantly miss his touch when he pulls out of you, lifting his head up as he gazes at you with blown eyes. His unbuttoned shirt is making your head spin from the sight. He's not sure it's the whiskey talking, but he hums in appreciation when he licks his fingers, tasting your wetness. Your knees almost buckle.

Eddie holds your waist and spins you around, facing your back to him. Your underwear barely covers your ass and his mouth twitches. He bends you over the sink. He wants to slap your ass so bad, he wants to punish you for pissing him off, but he doesn't. He strokes your delicate skin, his eyes wander through your body. He finally undoes his pants and rolls them down his legs with his boxer. His swollen cock finally springs free, glistening with precum.

Before he can even make a move, he snaps his head to look at you through the mirror. You're expectantly waiting for him to pound on you. "Baby, are you sure?"

Your skin shivers from the nickname again, you just nod. He spreads your legs with his knee, rubbing his tip along your slit, hissing at the feeling he's been longing for.

He pushes into your pussy without warning, spreading you open until he's deep on you. Your body jolts forward with his thrust, his pubic bone slapping against your ass.

"Oh fuck" He grunts, slipping in and out of you. His cock sinks further into your hole.

He slowly starts to speed up his pace, wrapping his arm around your waist as he holds you for support. Your hands are leaning over the sink. Eddie tugs on your hair and pulls it roughly so you lift your head up to watch him against the mirror. He furrows his brows as he watches his cock disappearing inside of you.

He pounds on you, resting his head on top of your shoulder. His breath is uneven, the smell of whiskey hits your skin. You feel the roughness of his hold and it's vexations, because he's already balls deep into you and it feels like you can't get enough of him.

Your hand flies up to hold his neck, your long nails scratching his skin. They sink on it. Your head now rests against his shoulder, but he pulls your hair forcefully and it makes you tilt your head. You try to look at him, but your vision gets blurry.

He's relentlessly hitting you and you clench around him. Your pussy cages his cock, putting pressure into it, making him disrupt immediately. He freezes his movements because you're holding him so tight, it's hard to thrust into you. Eddie grazes his teeth over your neck, sucking on your skin, squeezing your waist in response.

"Please, baby. I need you" He rasps. His throat goes dry when you grind on him. "Fuck, do that again"

He's begging and he doesn't care. You start grinding against him, rolling your hips. He watches your ass sliding against his skin and his cock twitches. He's not gonna last longer. He's surprised he's been hard for that long. He almost crushes your bones for holding you too tight.

His hand goes up to your throat squeezing it, almost choking you. He thrusts harder against you, inching ever so deeply. You're barely up on your feet, if it wasn't for him holding you. Your eyes keep shutting, your mouth is open widely and he uses it for his benefit, sticking two fingers into it. Your tongue roams against his skin, giving him the blissful satisfaction he's been waiting for.

You suck on his fingers as he sloppily hits his hips against your ass. You start to see white when the orgasm comes in a wave of pleasure that you can't hold. Your legs are shaking, your arms are rigid and your stomach is tied to a knot. Your pussy throbs and clenches around his cock multiple times, and Eddie feels his body jolt too.

It doesn't give him time to prepare for it as he spurts inside of you. His cock is twitching and releasing his cum incessantly. He barely opens his eyes, only peeking through his lashes as he watches both of you coming down through the mirror. He feels his cum streaming down his cock to your legs. The warm, white liquid painting your skin.

You throb at the same time he twitches, your cunt is so sensitive you can barely move. He stays inside of you for a while, ripping his fingers from your mouth, still holding your waist. His hand is now soft on you, but he leaves marks from how much he squeezed you. His fingertips are printed on your skin.

He whispers over your ear, saying he's going to pull out of you and it's painful when he does. For both of you. Eddie groans at the feeling and immediately sighs.

"Come here" He gently says, helping you sit up on the sink.

Before he helps clean you up, he puts his pants back up, carefully fixing his underwear in place. His tip is so sensitive, it's hard to even touch it. He picks the toilet paper, wetting it under the faucet. You watch as he rubs your skin, cleaning off his cum. You find it passionate.

Eddie always did that to you. He always cleaned you up, but rather, he would even pick clean clothes for you to wear after. Your heart is still beating fast, the sight of him soothing your body when he helps lifting your dress and zipping it up. He fixes the straps and smooths your hair down.

You're still watching him over the mirror. The entire time he's focused on you. On your skin. On your body. Your well-being.

He then fixes his own hair, making sure it's in place. He buttons up his shirt and leaves it open on the collar because he knows you like staring at him. He shoots you a warm smile and you blush. It's like you lost your confidence towards him. He washes his hands and his face. His cheeks are still flushed.

You seem to be in a daze, your eyes are roaming over his entire body. His hair that is shorter now, he doesn't have bangs anymore. He grew out a beard, more like a stubble. Your fingers are tapping against the tiles of the wall. Then you snap out of it a second later, walking out of the bathroom as he follows your steps.

You turn to him, extending your hand towards him. Eddie looks at you in confusion, and you wiggle your fingers so he holds your hand.

"We can talk about it later" Your eyes crinkle when you give him a side smile. He nods and laces his fingers in yours.

Eddie didn't think he would come to the wedding and have fun. He knew he was going to be miserable months before. You thought you were going to leave the party and sleep with Steve. You knew you wouldn't be able to stop mocking Eddie.

You're both walking down to the hall, hands tied, faces flushed. Reminiscing about the relationship didn't cross both your mind. Maybe the missing piece was the conversation, his redemption.

Now as he walks by your side, he thinks he needs to give himself a break and stop being a victim. He can't lose you again and he will make it up to you.

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