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taexual · 4 years

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (12)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: jealous & possessive!jungkook vs. reader who won’t take his shit

words: 8.8k (whoops)

chapter twelve

Your roommate refused to hide her surprise when you told her you were going to the Parental Advisory party with Jungkook. She couldn’t come with the two of you because she was going to visit her parents this weekend, but the disappointment of missing the party did not overshadow her excitement about you going there with Jungkook.

“Don’t blow this out of proportion,” you pleaded – for the three-hundredth time that evening – unable to relate to her joy. “We won’t be there long, so it doesn’t—”

“It’s your first public date,” Inna spoke—very ceremoniously—as she dug around your closet, convinced that her duty as your roommate was to choose an outfit for you, even if she was the only person – aside from you and Jungkook – who knew that this was all pretend. “Everyone will have their jaws on the floor when they see you arrive together anyway, but a good outfit might just make you feel less self-conscious.”

You had many objections but, knowing that Inna was running short on time before her bus arrived, you chose to only argue about the things that you could have changed her mind about.

“I don’t think it matters what I wear,” you said, your arms crossed over your chest as you watched the several pairs of tights and sweatpants fly out of the closet in reckless abandon as Inna looked for a gold mine. “I’m going to be uncomfortable anyway.”

You couldn’t see her when she had her head in the pile of your clothes, but her voice made the smirk on her lips obvious, “I’m sure he will find a way to make you feel more comfortable there.”

“We’ll only stay there for a little bit,” you said. “We were supposed to return here later. Although, I’m not sure if that’s still happening.”

“Oh!” Inna jumped up, momentarily forgetting about her stylist career. She wasn’t just smirking anymore, she was full-on grinning now, teeth and all. “So, you’ll be coming back to your place later? That calls for a whole different outfit.”

You didn’t realize what she was implying right away.

“We—what do you—oh,” you said, her words hitting you with a wave of hotness that forced your hands to guard your flushed face from her. “Inna, no. You know I don’t like those parties, we just agreed to go there for a little bit, and then watch a movie or something back here.”

“Right, of course,” she nodded and you thought she was relenting but, really, you should have known better as she teased, “that’s why they call it Netflix and Chill, babe.”

“I know you can’t see my eyes,” you said, your hands still on your face, “but I’m glaring at you right now.”

“Here,” she said, picking up a black off-the-shoulder blouse and a velvet burgundy mini skirt – you’d bought them both when you and Inna had lunch at the mall on your first weekend on campus and you hadn’t worn the outfit once – and tossing it for you right as you peeked at her through the gaps between your fingers. The blouse hit you in the chest but you caught it before it fell to the floor. “Now is the perfect time to wear this.”

She didn’t hide the offense in her voice – she was the one who had picked the skirt out for you – as she was evidently still bitter that you’d never even tried it on, aside from that one time in the changing room.

“I thought I’d just go in a sweater,” you said – which was very bold, considering that Inna looked ready to tackle you for wasting her time – and then lamely tried to explain your reasoning, “it’s chilly today.”

“You’ll wear that,” she ordered with an aggressive nod at the clothes in your hands, “and if you’re cold, you’ll ask Jungkook for his jacket.”

“What if he doesn’t wear a jacket?”

“Then you’ll ask for his shirt,” she said and smiled at her own impressive wit. “A win-win situation, really.”

You were going to protest again and Inna knew it, too, so, before you could even open your mouth, she closed the door of your closet – as much as the haphazardly thrown clothes allowed it to close – and stood facing you, her arms crossed and legs parted in a threatening manner.

“Put it on,” she demanded. “I will not leave until I know you’re going to that party in something that’s not sweats. If I miss my bus, it’s on you.”

Inna did not miss her bus – but barely, as she jumped around your dorm for ten minutes straight, in awe over how perfectly the skirt she’d picked out fit you and how “fascinating” (that one’s a direct quote) it made your legs look – and, then, before you knew it, you were waiting for Jungkook to come pick you up all by yourself.

You felt nervous. Granted, you’d felt somewhat worried the whole day today – which wasn’t very unusual, you liked to get your worrying started in advance – but, with Inna here, you’d held yourself together. Now your hands shook—trembled, really—as you sprayed some perfume on your wrists before rubbing them together.

Many things about tonight bothered you: you didn’t want to put up an act for half of the campus – especially not for the people who cared about Jungkook so much, they screeched and ran in the opposite direction when he crashed his car – and you also didn’t want to have to deal with whatever consequences the combination of alcohol and Jungkook would bring.

The first time you saw him drunk, he drove into a pole. The second time – he went home with a different girl, nevermind that he may have been looking for you. You were afraid that the third time could have been the charm – one last hurrah before something finally put an end to your friendship.

But most of all, you were afraid of you and him being there together, because your last conversation hadn’t exactly gone smoothly and now you didn’t know what to expect.

At first, you were almost looking forward to tonight as much as Inna was, especially since Jungkook was ready to leave the party early so you could spend some time together in a place where you felt more comfortable. But then he seemed to take all of his words back with one single phrase.

The only thing that “really mattered” about you and him, was that his parents believed you were together.

You always considered the worst case scenarios – just to prepare yourself – but they seemed limitless tonight as you weren’t sure what to make of his words and which side of him to prepare for: the side that did want to spend time with you and wasn’t afraid to say so, or the other side.

But you wouldn’t have had the time to prepare for tonight even if you did know what to expect; Jungkook -- and all of his sides -- was already here.

When the knock came, you needed at least half a minute to calm your breathing before you finally felt collected enough to open the door.

“Hey,” Jungkook said as soon as he heard the lock turn, sounding out of breath as if he’d ran all the way up the stairs. “Your RA—not a very nice guy—didn’t want me to come in—had to—”

“You ran away from him?” you asked, opening the door properly so he could come inside before the RA came running after him. However, with the door fully open, your outfit was suddenly in full-view for Jungkook and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“I—oh, you look really, uh, g-great,” he said, lifting his eyes back to your face – as if to check if this was really you – before sliding them down your body again in a way that you’ve never seen him do before. It didn’t mean that he’d never checked you out before – because, oh, he had – you were just never aware of it. “The dark colors go really well with—well, everything.”

“Thanks,” you said, crossing your arms as you moved to a side. You wanted to give him a compliment in return but could not find the words because the black cargo pants and the ripped jean jacket he’d worn tonight was not much different from any other outfit he’d worn before, and yet, you still hard a hard time looking away. “Come in while I grab my bag.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” he slipped inside, eyes still on you – his feet tripping over the threshold just slightly – as he closed the door after himself.

You walked over to your bed to grab your phone with the intention of putting it in the handbag that you had thrown over the open door of your bedroom. But when you turned around, phone in hand, Jungkook was standing right in front of you and your nose almost smashed right into his chest.

“Oh,” you blinked, the close proximity nearly throwing you off balance and Jungkook’s hands were already reaching for your waist to steady you on your feet.

You swore you would have suffocated if he’d touched you right then but he realized he’d entered your personal space as soon as he felt your shaky breath wash off on his own face.

In his defense, he’d only walked so near because the smell of your perfume pulled him in – he didn’t mean to cross any boundaries – but, standing so close, he could see the alarm in your eyes. Clearing his throat, he took a step back and gave you an encouraging smile as you slowly walked past him.

He tried not to think of the expression on your face – wary, yet expectant – when you saw how close he was, but he was glad you lingered by the door as you checked the contents of your bag.

“Ready to go?” he asked as soon as you clicked the lock on the handbag and turned around.

You were not ready to go because even though he stood several feet away from you now, his presence still lingered all around you and you could still smell his cologne. You could almost taste the mint strawberry gum he always kept in his car.

Your head was swimming with the feeling of him.

You’d been afraid of tonight and yet you hadn’t realized just how challenging it was really going to be.

“Yeah, we can go,” you said, not pausing to give him a look as you opened the door and waited for him to follow you out of the room. “If the RA hasn’t called the police yet.”

“Ah, shit. He’d do that?” Jungkook asked, more curious than worried about getting fined for being here without an entrance pass – he couldn’t really bring himself to care because it all seemed worth it.

You stopped in the hallway as you closed the door. Surprisingly, your hands had stopped shaking – it was your heart that was restless now.

“He’s done it before,” you said, fumbling with the lock. “But, in that case, we had a squatter and he’d just discovered her three months after she moved in, so he was understandably angry.”

“Well, I haven’t moved in yet,” Jungkook said carelessly, not realizing how your heart decided to skip a beat at the word yet. “And, not to mention, I’ve been here before and he’s never stopped me from coming up.”

“He would have if he knew how much time you wasted sitting in this hallway,” you said, double-checking if the door was really locked and then joining him on the way to the elevator.

Jungkook stuffed his hands into his pockets after he pressed the elevator button.

“I didn’t waste time,” he said. “I was waiting for you.”

The elevator door opened. Your chest did too as your heart rose to your throat.

“I-I mean, you could have waited at home,” you said, walking into the cabin before him and leaning against the mirror. The mixed signals he was sending you made you dizzy.

“You weren’t answering my calls,” he reminded you, pressing the ‘L’ on the dashboard and sheepishly glancing at your reflection. “And, in any case, doesn’t he know who I am?”

You raised your eyebrows at the arrogant expression on his face. Jungkook noticed your look but proceeded anyway.

“No one else has this problem,” he said, “I’m welcome everywhere.”

“You’re making tonight very difficult for me,” you told him.

“What? I’m not trying to show off,” he said, showing off. “I’m just saying.”

You chose not to play his game anymore as you shook your head and hypothesized, “maybe he’s just worried about how often he sees you here. I can talk to him.”

“Good. Because he’s going to have to get used to the blessing that is me,” Jungkook said, extending a hand for you when the two of you stepped out of the elevator in the lobby, the RA nowhere in sight, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You weren’t certain what he expected you to do – surely he didn’t mean for you to hold his hand right now, before you even got to the party? – so you watched his palm for several moments, involuntarily tracing the branches on it with your eyes.

“Well, come on,” he encouraged, taking your hand himself when it became clear that you weren’t going to do anything. “I parked my car out front. And before you say anything – yes, I do know that parking here is for residents only. If anyone asks, I live here.”

“I—” your mind was still listening to him say he wasn’t going anywhere, so it took you a few moments to find your next words and, in that time, Jungkook had already guided you out of the lobby and into the crisp evening.

“I’m pretty sure everyone knows where you live,” you said.

A smirk appeared on his lips but, this time, Jungkook chose not to gloat (too much) about the fact that he was a Parental Advisory member.

“Not your RA,” he countered instead, pressing a button on his car key. A pleasant click informed you that the car had unlocked. “He looked like he’s never listened to anything that’s not Verdi.”

“He actually plays a lot of Liszt in our second-floor lounge room,” you said. “There’s a piano there.”

“That just proves my point, if anything,” Jungkook stopped in front of his car and opened the passenger door for you, casually leaning against the vehicle while he waited for you to climb inside – it was almost unbelievable how easily he managed to act like all was normal.

In all truth, Jungkook found his laid-back attitude hard to believe as well because, inside of his chest, there were hundreds of explosions happening – thousands, actually, when the evening breeze lifted your skirt higher up your thighs – and only half of them were caused by the way you looked tonight. The other half were the result of holding your hand.

“Alright,” he said after having circled the car to enter it through the driver’s side. “Keep me updated on your mood so I know when you want to go home, yeah?”

“I—” you started to say, wanting to let him know that he didn’t have to worry about taking you home, but Jungkook beat you to it.

“If you say you want to go right now, I swear—”

“No, I was just—well, actually…” you looked at him with glitter in your eyes – and if you’d really meant it, he would have taken you home right then and there – and a teasing smile. “No, I was going to say that I don’t want you to feel pressured to leave with me. I promise to stay for a little bit, but you can stay for however long you—”

“I only want to stay for as long as you’re staying,” he said and you thanked the God that the sound of the car engine coming to life drowned out the loud beats of your heart. “We agreed to get back to your place and hang out there, didn’t we?”

“We did. But then—”

“Did you change your mind?” he asked with a quick glance at you before he turned to the rear-view mirror to back out of the parking lot. “Do you not want to spend time with me anymore?”

It was absurd that he was the one asking you this.

“I do want to spend time with you,” you said.

“Well, I should hope so,” he replied, the arrogant smirk now back on his lips again. “I doubt there are better alternatives than me on this campus.”

“Probably not,” you said, rolling your eyes, and then biting, “but only because Inna left to go home tonight.”

Jungkook would have let you know how this wounded his impossibly huge ego if his mind hadn’t drifted elsewhere as soon as you said this.

“Oh,” he spoke, turning out of the parking lot and into the street. “So you have the place all to yourself, huh?”

You raised your eyebrows when you turned to look at him. “You could not have sounded more like a typical college boy as you said this.”

Jungkook smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I am a typical college boy.”

You smirked. “I thought you were only one of a kind.”

He gave you a proud look – completely ignoring the mocking undertones in your voice – before returning his eyes to the road as he drove towards his house.

“I am, of course,” he said. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

Much to your – and Jungkook’s – surprise, the party ended up not being so bad, after all. Initially, you thought you’d have to come up with a way to leave after an hour, but several hours have passed now, and you had to admit, you were genuinely enjoying yourself here.

At the beginning, you couldn’t quite get comfortable – all because you could feel everyone’s stares on the two of you when you arrived hand-in-hand – but when you finished a few drinks, the people in the room no longer seemed as strange and threatening.

Jungkook helped you ease your discomfort by refusing to leave you alone – and making his close presence seem so casual, it was as if his parents were, indeed, here, watching you two play a relationship – but even when you finally convinced him to find his bandmates and say hi to them, you still didn’t feel too out-of-place.

You felt relaxed, actually. Excited. And maybe a little irrational or else you wouldn’t have found yourself on the couch next to Brock – the well-known social climber, dead-set on beating Jungkook in terms of campus popularity – discussing your plans for the summer.

“I want to spend at least a few weeks at home with my family,” you were telling him as you toyed with the edges of your third—or was it fourth?—drink tonight, “but only if I pass all of my finals at the top of the class. Or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“They’re that hard on you, huh?” Brock nodded knowingly – for someone who seemed so shallow when you first heard about him, he sure had a lot of empathy – and took a sip of his own drink.

“They’re alright,” you said, swallowing the remaining alcohol in your cup. “Although my roommate thinks they’re robots.”

“Oh, your roommate has met them?” he asked.

“I brought her over once,” you explained. “I do that with friends, usually, but only if we’re really close. Most people don’t handle the judgmental looks on my parents’ faces too well.”

“I see,” Brock said but only to win himself more time to find the right way to ask you this, “so, uh, has Jungkook met them?”

“My parents?” you asked. And then, not thinking about it, added, “of course. He met them a long time ago.”

Brock raised his eyebrows in evident surprise. It dawned on you then – albeit slowly – that he didn’t know how long you and Jungkook knew each other. Actually, probably no one at this party knew – you spent the majority of your time at university pretending Jungkook didn’t exist.

“So, you’ve been together for a while then?” Brock questioned.

His eyes didn’t give it away but you were sober enough to understand how this could have been a trick question: Jungkook was probably sleeping around with other girls before you started to talk again, so defining a clear timeline of your relationship was crucial or else you were going to fall down the spiral of “cheating” rumors.

“Uh… no,” you said, choosing to play dumb. “Not very long.”

“So, he met your parents before you started dating?”

“Yeah. My dad’s a teacher,” you said, which was the truth, so you didn’t completely lie, and Brock’s lips parted. You could almost see the puzzle pieces click together in his brain.

“Oh, I would not want to spend the summer with my parents if one of them was a teacher,” he said with a chuckle. You gave him a tell-me-about-it-look and scanned the room for another drink. “Are you going to be on campus during the rest of the summer?”

“Uh, probably, yeah,” you said. “I’d like to get an internship somewhere close, so I could live at the dorm.”

“Busy girl,” Brock said in a way that sounded more condescending than affectionate. His company no longer seemed so pleasant – you definitely needed another drink – but he didn’t seem to pick up on your emotions, “I know that Jungkook is probably going to be on campus as well but, um,” he scooted closer to you on the couch – just a little but enough for his knee to touch yours, “if he’s away, I could maybe show you—”

You didn’t hear what was it that he was going to show you because someone landed on the armrest of the couch right behind you. The smell of alcohol was the first thing you registered, but then you picked up the scent of the cologne, too, and you didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Jungkook.

“I’m back,” he spoke into your ear – whispered, actually -- sending an excited shiver down your spine. “I brought you something to try. It’s—”

It was a drink. Finally.

“Thanks,” you cut him off, not really thinking much of the pale green liquid in the half-empty shot glass and downing it all in one go. You frowned when the drink reached your throat, going down with a fiery resistance.

Jungkook noticed your grimace as you swallowed. He placed a protective hand on your back – and then shot Brock a warning look which prompted the boy to return to his previous spot on the other end of the couch – as you coughed, not really enjoying the anise-flavored travesty he’d brought you.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked, concerned.

“Mmhmm,” you replied, your esophagus still burning, “n-not a fan of absinthe. Have you been—” you paused to inhale through your mouth, cherishing every bit of cold air, “—drinking this the whole night?”

“Yeah, he basically drinks that shit raw,” Brock answered instead, somehow happy to see Jungkook bring you this much discomfort. “And it still takes him a while to get drunk.”

“I haven’t been,” Jungkook answered your question, deliberately ignoring everything the other boy had just said. “Taehyung broke out a bottle he’d brought back from France. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you replied, inhaling a few more times and then clearing your throat for good measure. “It just took me off-guard, that’s all—”

You ended up not finding the end of your sentence as Jungkook slid down the armrest and landed on the couch next to you, his arms sneaking around your waist as he pulled your body closer to his. Your heart would have most likely stopped if the shot of absinthe hadn’t released all this adrenaline into your bloodstream.

“I’m sorry,” he said into your hair – the close proximity and the quiet tone of his voice had quickly cut off all signals from the synapses inside your brain – and cuddled into you until he found a more comfortable position. “I would have warmed—warned you if you’d have given me a chance.”

He was obviously drunk and tongue-tied – but that was nothing new. What was new, however, was this affection, as he held on to you as if you were both stranded on a stray piece of wood in the ocean and he was afraid you were going to slide off into the water and die.

“T-that’s okay,” you said with a nervous chuckle, figuring that he was only doing this to prove a point that you were dating. But no one seemed to care; this far into the party, everyone was either making out with someone or dancing their lives away – except for Brock who was actively trying not to look at you two.

“Hmm,” Jungkook exhaled slowly for no reason other than to see the skin on the nape of your neck shiver from his breath. He wasn’t drunk enough to miss the effect he had on you, but he was far too drunk to be able to hold himself back from deliberately affecting you this way.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” you asked, not uncomfortable in his arms per se, but certainly tense – even more so when you finally concluded that he was holding you like this specifically because Brock was here.

“Not much,” Jungkook replied, still as quiet as before. He shot the boy across the couch a glance so full of spite, you would have believed him to be completely sober if you’d seen him do it.

Brock only rolled his eyes in response, ready to say something to you but instead, he was forced to watch you strain your neck as you tried to look at Jungkook, his grip on your waist not loosening.

“Really? Because you seem really drunk,” you told Jungkook, your voice no longer passive.

He snickered – you felt his abdomen muscles move against your back as he did – and, purposefully staring right Brock in the eyes, he said, “I’m only drunk on you.”

If he wanted to see you squirm, he would have succeeded, but his grip on you was too tight for you to move. Pressing your lips together, you touched his knee with your hand in a warning manner. You didn’t like being caught in the middle of a purposeless war of masculinity.

“Maybe it’s time we left, then,” you suggested. He worshiped the disappointment that appeared on Brock’s face after you said this.

“Yeah?” Jungkook asked – but he didn’t have to, he was just trying to win some more time to hold you close to him like this – and then, slowly unwrapping his arms from your waist, he said, “I’ll run to say bye to the guys, okay? It’ll only be one second. Meet you by the door?”

“Sure, yeah. Take your time. I’ll stop by the bathroom before we go,” you said, craving some cold water on your face – and not just because of the lingering fire in your throat – as Jungkook released you and stood up, leaving an unnaturally cold sensation behind you, where his body had been.

He walked off quickly, his grin only widening when he glanced at you over his shoulder and saw you stand up and walk away from the couch without saying a word to Brock.

What Jungkook didn’t see, however, was how -- as soon as he rounded the corner to enter the kitchen where his bandmates were searching for sugar cubes for their ridiculous absinthe ritual -- Brock leaped from his seat and grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away.

“Hey,” he said, pulling away when he felt you flinch in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—uh, you headed home, then?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking your hand back and hiding it behind your back in defense. “It was nice talking to you.”

“It really was!” he said, a little too enthusiastically. “Which is why I was wondering if you were free anytime soon. So we could talk again, maybe? I just don’t want this to be the only time I get to hang out with you. I felt like we had a real connection. You know?”

You didn’t. You thought he wasn’t a terrible person to talk to, but you could only tolerate him in small doses.

“Mmhmm. Well, we live on the same campus,” you said, trying to smile politely as you made your way towards the bathroom. Much to your disappointment – and horror – Brock fell into step with you. “I’m sure we will, uh, see each other around.”

“Yeah? Where do you usually hang out? When you’re not with Jungkook, I mean.”

As far away from you as possible, was going to be your answer if he wasn’t going to let you walk away from him.

“Everywhere,” you said and then decided to make yourself sound less available, “or nowhere, actually. I prefer to stay home. With my roommate.”

“I like to stay home, too,” he said. You doubted that very much – unless staying home meant throwing parties at the million-dollar mansion that his parents had purchased for him. “You think we could do that together some time?”

You could distinctly recall the way your heart sped up when Jungkook suggested nearly the same thing one time. Brock’s words seemed to have a completely opposite effect on you, however, as you desperately looked for a way out of the situation and were almost prepared to use the golden I-have-a-boyfriend excuse – which could have been true for all that Brock knew – when he spoke again.

“Just you and me,” he clarified. “You could text me when Jungkook is away.”

Now, if only he could have survived five seconds without bringing Jungkook up – further proving to you that this was all about Brock showing everyone that he was better – maybe you would have stopped and considered this – although you doubted that, too – but now you didn’t even hesitate before you clicked your tongue.

“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” you asked.

He clearly didn’t as he retorted, “why?”

“Because this is something that you wouldn’t suggest if he was here,” you explained. “And I don’t really want to go behind his back and plan some secret tête-à-têtes.”

You gave him a smile – instead of saying goodbye – and were already reaching for the handle of the bathroom door when he grabbed your hand again. This time, when you turned to look at him, you didn’t bother to hide the irritation in your eyes.

“You misunderstand me,” Brock said, very matter-of-fact but still wary as he let go of your hand. Good. You were going to need it when you inevitably smacked him across the face. “I’m not implying anything. I just genuinely liked talking to you and would like to do it again without anyone bothering us. If you don’t think Jungkook’s going to allow you to see me, I can talk to him about—”

“No,” you said sharply. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. It’s my decision. And I said no.”

Brock watched your eyes for a moment, intrigued by how strict they looked.

“Okay,” he said then. “Got it.”

You nodded and, almost tripping over your own feet in your hurry, you finally tore yourself away from the party by entering the bathroom and locking the door.

Alone at last, you exhaled and walked over to the sink, choosing not to look at your reflection in the mirror out of fear of dissociating even more – you already felt disoriented enough.

Washing your hands with cold water and then dabbing wet fingertips under your eyes and down the sides of your face felt refreshing, but it wasn’t enough to stop your heart from working overtime – courtesy of Jungkook and Brock, and their passive-aggressive battle to show the other one who was better.

You weren’t sure what you were more frustrated with: the fact that Jungkook’s touch affected you so much or the fact that he only seemed to touch you to show off to Brock. Obviously, you’d come here to establish your relationship in front of your peers but, considering that Jungkook tried to treat this whole thing as a sort of business deal, only worrying about his parents’ opinion, his actions tonight seemed over the top.

Not to mention, you could have handled Brock yourself. He was the first person who talked to you at this party and he probably only did because he’d seen you arrive with Jungkook, and, just like with everything else, he was determined to replace him. Naturally, Jungkook -- never one to back down from a challenge -- wanted to put Brock in his place.

This really irked you – you liked to be in charge of your own life and hated having to rely on others to do things for you. Jungkook should have known that.

But although you were irritated, you didn’t feel like starting an argument and then potentially having to deal with dead bodies. However, right after you decided to leave the party quietly, your mythical sixth sense picked up a bad vibe and your stomach dropped – all just a second before you heard deep grunts of struggle from behind the door of the bathroom.

For just a split second, you hoped that this commotion didn’t involve Jungkook but all of that hope vanished when one of the voices yelled, “who the fuck do you think you are?” and you recognized the undeniable tenor of your childhood friend.

Cursing under your breath, you shut the water off and, not even bothering to find a towel, walked out of the room with your hands still dripping.

You felt hopeful yet again when you saw the almost empty living room – maybe they stopped fighting – but that hope disappeared soon enough, too, when a tirade of cuss words reached you from the kitchen, followed by the sound of skin slapping against skin, muscle against muscle.

Following the sound, you clenched your hands into fists and tried to brace yourself for whatever you were about to witness. And, just like you expected, a group of spectators – always thirsty for some violence – was watching Jungkook hold Brock by the collar of his shirt.

Brock – who was obviously enjoying the attention of the whole party – snarled something that provoked Jungkook to throw another punch to the side of his face. Brock’s whole head twisted to a side and, roughly pushing Jungkook off of himself until his back hit the fridge, Brock spat the blood out onto the kitchen floor.

“Jungkook!” you called out before they turned this whole house into a boxing ring. He heard you – his eyes drifted to the group of people watching him – but he couldn’t see you through the crowd.

Cursing again, you tried to push past the people even if it involved losing sight of the two boys – you could hear the fight carry on as they slammed each other against furniture – until you finally reached the kitchen island and saw Jungkook carelessly hurl Brock on top of it, his head nearly hitting the marble tabletop.

“Jungkook, for fuck’s sake,” you snapped.

It was hard to say if he heard you this time, because one of Brock’s hands broke free and roughly pushed Jungkook’s chest. The boy stumbled backwards, hitting the cupboard behind him with a loud groan as empty plastic cups scattered all over the tabletop and rolled to the floor.

Recovering immediately, Jungkook lunged for Brock again – but this time you were there to interrupt them.

Grabbing Jungkook’s wrist as soon as he swung his hand back to prepare a punch, you finally got him to tear his eyes away from the opponent and give you a frenzied look.

“That’s enough,” you said, all out of breath as if it was you that’s been in a fight. “You made your point.”

Brock rolled off the kitchen island and coughed loudly as he dusted his shirt off. When you turned your head – both of your hands still gripping Jungkook’s raised fist, even if he was no longer planning to punch anything with it – you saw that Brock’s lip was bleeding, his left eye was starting to swell, and various hues of dark purple decorated the right side of his face.

Jungkook looked better in comparison to him – at least, from what you could see – although his cheekbones were clearly bruised, the skin irritated and bright red.

“You need to learn how to take a fucking joke,” Brock spat just as you let go of Jungkook. Immediately, he jumped past you, seemingly ready to knock Brock out.

Brock stumbled backwards, not yet prepared to defend himself against Jungkook again, but he didn’t have to do anything because you’d sneaked under Jungkook’s raised arms and pressed both of your hands into his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Jungkook,” you told him, knowing you had to remain calm in order to make progress, but struggling as fury boiled inside your veins.

Jungkook looked at you, his nostrils still flaring, but his anger dissipating as quickly as it had ignited. He took a step back until you no longer had a hold on him, and snarled at Brock, “you’re a fucking joke. Let’s go.”

The last part was directed at you, obviously, as Jungkook turned around. Knowing how quickly he could change his mind, you took his hand in yours just to make sure he didn’t knock anyone unconscious on his way out of the house.

Everything was already so surreal, you were glad he was clutching your hand so tight it almost hurt, or else you’d have thought you were dreaming. But then, to make this even more hard to believe, Jungkook exited the house and made a beeline for his car.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, stopping and thus pulling him to a stop, too.

“We’re getting out of here,” he shot back as he finished climbing the few remaining porch steps. You remained at the top. “I’m driving you home.”

You could have laughed at the absurdity.

“You are not driving,” you said, resisting his pull as he tried to get you to climb down the steps. “You’re wasted. Do you not realize that?”

“I don’t—”

“First, you need to sit down,” you told him and lowered yourself until you were sitting on the porch, your feet resting on the lowest step.

Jungkook held your hand and watched you, frozen.

“Sit,” you repeated, making it sound more like an order this time.

“I need to get out of here,” he said, growing frustrated with your need to mediate between him and his obvious anger issues. “I’m not fucking sitting—”

“Well, you’re not getting behind the wheel of a car, either,” you cut him off, pulling his hand down.

He still resisted. “I’m fine. Let go of me.”

“Sit.”

“I’m not fucking sitting down, for fuck’s—!”

“Then stop acting like a fucking lunatic and get a grip on yourself!” you yelled, all patience gone as you jumped to your feet. “You’re drunk whether you realize it or not. You can’t drive yourself, let alone someone else, and you’re fucking out of your mind with anger. So, sit your ass down and fucking breathe. Or else I’m calling the police to get you arrested. Maybe that will get through your thick head.”

Scolded to the point where he almost felt embarrassed, Jungkook mumbled something incoherent and sat down.

“God, you truly never grew up,” you said with an exasperated sigh as you plopped back down next to him. “Always looking for different ways to get your adrenaline fix.”

He groaned, leaning forwards as he rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.

You wanted to ask him what was it that Brock had said that provoked him to start a fight -- because you had no doubt that Jungkook was the one who threw the first punch -- but decided against it. You didn’t want Jungkook to fire up again.

And so, you sat in silence for a little while – you, fuming, and Jungkook, trying to control his breathing – until he finally sat up straight and dared to look at you. Your eyes were set firmly on the grass, swaying freely in the night wind.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked.

Your face didn’t even twitch as you countered, “what do you think?”

“At me?” he tried again.

“What do you think?”

He swallowed. “What did I do wrong?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Do you seriously have to ask me that?”

“Yes,” he said, knowing that he was going to get a lecture but needing to hear it in order to properly defend himself. “Obviously.”

“You got into a fight with Brock,” you said because it was this simple.

“Yeah,” Jungkook confirmed pointlessly and then said with a prideful undertone, “because he deserved to get punched.”

He did not seem to regret it in the slightest and would have probably done it again if he went back inside the house – that’s what scared you the most about this. You may as well have been talking to a wall.

“But that’s exactly what he wants—” you tried, but Jungkook cut you off.

“To get punched?” he asked.

“No—to get a reaction out of you,” you explained, more patient now that it looked like he was finally starting to listen to you, “he wants people to talk shit about you.”

Then, surprising you, Jungkook said, “I know.”

It took you a moment to grasp that he knew the consequences his actions would have, and that made his decisions all the more self-destructive.

“So,” you took a breath, “why do you do this?”

You were scared of his answer but instead of sounding like a lost cause, he just sounded aggressively nihilistic.

“Why not?” he retorted, shrugging one of his shoulders. “What do I have to lose? At least they’re talking about me. About us.”

If he’d asked you – really asked you, not just rhetorically – you’d have told him about all the things he would have lost if he kept this up. But he didn’t ask because he didn’t think there was an answer – a meaningful answer – that would have been worth the change in attitude.

He was simply convinced he didn’t have anything worth to keep: not his relationship with his parents, and not even what remained of his own reputation.

“Well, yes, but what they’re saying isn’t doing us…” you started to say but felt yourself hit a dead-end. You were a conformist. He, clearly, wasn’t. But it wasn’t for you to decide which one of you was right when it came to dealing with campus rumors. “Anyway. That was wrong. You know fighting is wrong. You end up getting hurt.”

“He’s the one who picked a fight with me as soon as you walked away,” Jungkook mumbled childishly.

“That doesn’t mean you’re any less guilty,” you stated. “You were acting weird around him before the fight, so, in a way, you brought it upon yourself.”

Jungkook looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “When did I act weird?”

You looked away. “When you brought me that shot of absinthe.”

“What do you mean?” he asked but he knew what you meant. “I was just letting him know that we were dating. Letting everyone know that we were—”

“Right but everyone got that when we arrived together,” you spoke as soon as your face started to grow warmer from the memory of you and him on that couch, “and none of that even matters, anyway, remember? Your parents aren’t here. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said.

You paused. Then asked, “what?”

“I wanted to touch you,” Jungkook clarified. “Is that wrong?”

For a minute, you couldn’t remember if you thought that was wrong or not when he put it like that.

“It’s—” you said and then swallowed, thanking the cold breeze that raised goosebumps on your bare legs for distracting you from his intoxicating words. You had completely sobered up when you had to break up that fight and you’d have liked to remain clear-minded. “Well, if you’re doing it to mark your territory like some dog, then yeah. It’s wrong. It’s disrespectful to me.”

“I wasn’t trying to mark my territory.”

“It felt like you were.”

Sighing, he caved, even though he hated the accusation, “alright, maybe I was, a little. But Brock needed to know that he was never going to get to touch you like that.”

“Ah,” you smiled humorlessly, “and you get that privilege, right?”

“I—well, didn’t we come here to show off?”

“We did, supposedly. But…”

Your voice faded because you realized that one of the biggest reasons why it felt like he’d crossed the line tonight, was because his actions affected you so much. If you hadn’t cared about him the way that you did, you probably wouldn’t have been bothered by the methods he chose to prove the authenticity of your relationship.

Sure, he could have been less possessive, but you knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to offend you. And yet you couldn’t let this go without standing up for yourself – especially not after he tried to take back every single one of his confessions the last time you’d talked to him.

“We weren’t supposed to do it like that,” you said, sounding a little more confident now. “I just felt like you went too far. Brock wasn’t worth it.”

“There’s a dozen others like Brock at that party,” Jungkook pointed out.

You scoffed. “Right. Even if there are, the only reason why they’d want me is so they could brag about stealing Jungkook’s girl.”

“No, it’s—is that the only reason why you think these guys want you?” he looked at you as he asked this, almost appalled that you would reduce your own impact to this level.

“They don’t—” you started to say with a shake of your head but that was enough for Jungkook.

“They do,” he countered, cutting you off, “and it’s not because you came with me. It’s because you’re you,” he didn’t mean to scan you from head to toe with his eyes as he said this but self-control was not one of his strong suits.

You had your objections but, at the same time, you were able to understand that arguing about this would have been pointless. Your knowledge about how men functioned came from text-books and observations, while his came from personal experience. You’d never see eye-to-eye about this.

“Why do you care about those other guys?” Jungkook asked after you didn’t reply.

“I—I don’t,” you said, still distracted by your own thoughts. “But you clearly do.”

“Of course, I do,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They want you.”

You looked at him. “So, even if they do, why does it matter?”

“It matters because they can’t have you,” he said, “and they need to know that.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re mine.”

Your hands went numb and the fabric of your skirt that you’d been playing with started to feel foreign – fake, even – so you dropped it and took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around your midriff instead.

“I get that we’re playing a relationship,” you said, quieter than you probably should have, “but I’m not a trophy that you can brag about when you feel like it.”

“You might as well be,” he said, not intending to make it sound like you were some decoration, but realizing how it could have been interpreted precisely like that, “maybe ‘trophy’ wasn’t the right word. I mean that you are something—someone—to brag about. Because I’m proud to call you min—m-my, uh, fake-girlfriend. My friend. I’m proud of who you are. Proud of what you’d achieved. Proud of the way you can call me out on my bullshit and put me in my place—”

You did not acknowledge his slip-up with the label of your relationship – because he was drunk – scoffing instead, “there’s no way in hell you’re proud of that last one.”

“No, no, I am,” he nodded for more effect. “No one has the patience to deal with my shit. But you do.”

You went quiet again, your head spinning. The buzz of the alcohol had mostly worn off but you were unable to find a way to reply to him, and you chose to blame the drinks you’d had for that.

“Don’t do that again, okay?” you ended up saying.

Your thoughts ran a little too fast for him to keep up. “Do what?”

“Get into fights,” you said. “Act irrationally to prove a point.”

“Me hugging you was completely rational,” he said, bringing it up with such ease, it was like he was a completely different person now.

“You know what I mean,” you said. “Don’t treat me like an object. Especially, since it doesn’t change anything with your parents.”

“I wasn’t trying to--w-why are you bringing my parents into this?”

“Because of the other night?” you said, thinking it was obvious. “You were completely dismissive about this – a-about us – and you basically said that—”

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, looking down at the wooden steps of the porch. He remembered. “I didn’t mean that.”

So, here’s the answer, then: he didn’t mean that. But something – fear, insecurity, uncertainty – had still made him reduce your relationship to just an act for his parents.

“Okay,” you said, hesitating. “But we’d agreed to tell each other the truth. So, don’t—don’t say things you don’t mean. Not when it’s just us alone.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, a promise on his lips, “I’ll think before I act from now on.”

You scrunched your nose, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. “Will you, really?”

He considered it, then rephrased himself, “I’ll try to think before I act.”

That got you to smile. “That’s better. Thank you.”

Jungkook smiled back and the tension outside of his house seemed to blow away with the wind. Even the night shadows around you suddenly seemed brighter.

“You have to admit, though,” Jungkook said then, “my plan to get Brock to believe we’re dating worked so much better than your diplomatic speech would have.”

“Why do you think I’d have given him a diplomatic speech?” you asked.

“I’ve known you since birth,” he replied, grinning.

“Fair point,” you couldn’t help but snicker. “We’re still doing it my way next time, though.”

“Alright,” he nodded, not really caring about much else except that you said there was going to be a next time. “So, you ready to go home now?”

You’d been ready to go home for a while now.

“I am,” you said,

He stood up. “Let’s go.”

You stood up after him but, once again, hesitated before climbing down the porch steps.

“Actually,” you spoke slowly, “I think I’m going alone.”

Jungkook hadn’t noticed that you weren’t following him as he headed towards the pavement across the front yard. He stopped at the sound of your distant voice and turned around.

“What?”

“Yeah,” you said, making your way towards him. “You stay here. Stay out of fights and—”

He was shaking his head. “If you think I’m going to let you go home alone, you’re—”

“If you think I need your permission to—”

“Okay, sorry, my bad,” he lifted his hands in a defensive manner that interrupted you. “I didn’t choose my words well. But my point stands. You’re not going home alone.”

You looked away with a sigh.

“Neither of us can drive,” you said, “and I’m not staying here.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, dismissing your attempt to escape him with a very sarcastic, “oh, and that would sure be tragic if our plans didn’t involve us going back to your place together anyway.”

“I…” you did feel the same pang of excitement in the pit of your stomach as you did when he first suggested you spent more time together at your dorm, but everything that happened since then made you unsure if it was such a good idea, after all. “I feel like going to sleep, actually.”

“Okay,” he didn’t seem bothered by that. “I’m walking you home, then.”

“I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way,” you said.

“I’m sure you are, you’ve walked around campus plenty of times before,” he said, still as witty as ever. “I’m still coming with you.”

“Jungkook…”

“Let me. Please,” he took a step closer to you as he said this and you would have probably let him to do almost anything when you saw the night sky reflected in his eyes. “I don’t want to walk you home so that other people would believe that we’re in a relationship. So that my parents would believe we’re in a relationship. Or because you’re an item I want to show off. I want to walk you home because I want to walk you home.”

You could no longer feel the cold, late-hour wind.

“Okay, fine,” you said, your voice purposefully indifferent and even irritated, just so your real feelings wouldn’t manifest themselves. “Walk me home, then.”

“Way to make it sound like I’m putting you in pain,” Jungkook jabbed.

“You are kind of a pain in my ass, actually,” you pointed out.

“Yeah? Does that pain bother you?”

“Yes, very much,” you glared at him as the two of you crossed the front yard towards the main street where he’d crashed his car weeks ago when you first found each other again. “Keeps me up all night with thoughts about it.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk, walking around you inconspicuously, so that he was on your right side, his body shielding you from the cars that drove past every now and then. One could never know what sort of a drunk lunatic could drive by. “That means my plan has worked.”

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Daybreak (6/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go]

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

—–

The sun was making it’s way down the city horizon when Alex and you stepped out of the restaurant, thick spills of orange and yellow and pinks washing over the peaks of buildings and drenching your world in a sickly honey hues.

“The sunset’s amazing today!”

Alex, like a fool, proceeds to shield his eyes and look directly into the sun. He doesn’t flinch away like you thought he would, instead he closes his eyes to bask in the sun, eyelashes skimming his cheeks and fluttering, catching the fading rays of light and scattering shadows across his face.

The colors splash over his nose bridge and cheekbones and high arches of his browbone, dripping from his visage in a manner that make him look less like a high school boy and more of an angel.

You turn your gaze from Alex to the pastel laden sky, squinting up at the pale brewing clouds overhead, wondering if you should’ve brought an umbrella. The setting sun brings a chill that reminds you that autumn lingers around the corner. You wrap your arms around yourself, a silly attempt to keep the heat in your body.

The uneasiness from earlier still swims in your gut, pushing out of your fingertips and branching through your body like streaks of lightning, searching for something to strike, something to ignite to warm your somber heart.

“Should we go?”

Alex turns to you, a relaxed smile splayed across his lips, green eyes practically glowing.

Your fingers clench into the fabric of your uniform sleeve, heart yearning to skim fingers along his jaw, card your hands through his hair, feel his warm skin against yours, bitter with the cold.

But you fear the darkness that drips from your body like a staining ink, fear that his light will vanquish the grasp it has on you that strangulates yet holds you together. You fear that the moment you lay a touch upon Alex Go, he becomes dyed with a black tarnish, and you fall apart.

“Where are we going?”

He laughs, “Taking you home, where else? I can’t show you all the good places at once, or I won’t have anything else to wow you with next time.”

He pinches a piece of his black hair between his fingers, rolling, voice taking on a quieter tone.

“Well, if there’s a next time.”

Your breath comes out closer to a shudder than a sigh .

The fragments of yourself tear at each other. They demand happiness, demand misery, demand punishment—but you want happiness. You do.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Alex smiles and you drink it all in while he’s still here in front of you. The darkness is building in the sky and in your soul and you know that you have to pull away soon, before you become too greedy.

“I forgot that I had some errands to run before I go home, so can we save the walking home for next time?”

You flash a grin and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, distracting Alex from seeing that the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

His gaze follows the movement of your hand and his lips quirk upwards into a smile.

“Sure thing. This is a goodbye then?”

“I guess so.”

You take a step back, carefully.

Quietly.

Hungry thoughts in your head are swimming and sloshing, threatening to spill over the cusp and consume both of you.

Alex stands still, not moving. His eyes are shining in a way you can’t understand, but it makes your heart pound and contort. It takes him a second to step forward, another second to grasp your hands in his own.

You try to yank them away, you really do, but his hands eclipse yours and they’re so tender, so warm. They make you feel safe. Your mind fogs and resistance melts into a puddle at your feet.

“I had a lot of fun today, and I’m glad you entrusted me with something so important about you.”

His grip on your hands tightens and the pressure tenses your jaw, anchoring your body into the cement to prevent doing something you might regret.

“If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’ll be here. I promise.” He leans closer and you can see the rings of viridian orbiting his dark pupils like the bands on looming Jupiter.

You can feel the heat from his body, his face. His breath hits your lips and puts a seal on your proximity, locking you in place with the enticing promise of something more, something you didn’t dare name.

Then he begins to lean in. He’s tall, long legs, lean body-- he has to angle his head slightly. His black hair brushes your face, lashes fluttering, deep green eyes reflecting the golden rays of the falling sun, the world spinning around him with you at the very center.

But it echoes, oh how it resonates!

The sound of the streetlight flickering with a dull electric hum, the counter in it’s hellish loop of tik tik tik, and the horrible grating sound of his palm- Alex’s palm- smashing into the back of the light, thunder ripping into your eardrums and brandishing fear into your heart. It startles you out of your leaden state and you jerk away from him like you’ve been burned, like you’re scared of the fire that blazes so brilliantly.

He stands there, looking shocked. You can do nothing but stare right back, wide-eyed and chest heaving.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” He stammers, searching your face for something, for a reason, for a sign. “I wasn’t thinking, I should have asked first, I-”

You intervene.

“I’m really sorry, I have to go.”

Your mind is racing, it’s fighting, telling you to stay please stay, begging you not to run anymore, not to be alone anymore, but it’s telling you to turn and flee before he can say anything more, far from here, from him before you hurt him again, before you hurt yourself again.

You take one staggered step back.

This time he doesn’t follow you. The heartbreak is audible, like black ice popping in the heat of the winter sun.

You take another step, then another, and suddenly you’re running. The wind is whipping at your cheeks, and it’s nonsense, you know it is.

You can’t understand why you began to run if you knew Alex could easily catch up to you, why you couldn’t just let a good thing happen, why you had to sabotage everything for yourself when you already had nothing left.

The thudding of your feet on the pavement slows only when your surroundings become unrecognizable, no karaoke bar, no green scaffolding, no Alex.

You struggle to breathe, lungs burning and sweat beading on your forehead regardless of the dropping temperatures.

The sun has long gone, plunging you into a world of blackened skies and scattered stars.

There’s a park entrance by your left so you walk in, legs heavy, searching for a place to rest while your breathing becomes regular.

You find a bench across a stone fountain and take a seat, resting your elbows on your knees and taking deep breaths in, then out, in, then out.

The steady stream of water calms your nerves as you try to piece reality back together. You close your eyes, concentrate on picking up the pieces of yourself you keep dropping until all that’s left is the splintered image of who you used to be.

You recall Alex’s face when you had stepped away, brows furrowed in concern, lips downturned and eyes frantic, like he had committed the single most atrocious act in all existence.

You drop your face into your hands and try to shake the thoughts out of your head, but they keep worming their way back into your head.

Your sigh is deep and scoops out the insides of your lungs. You hold it for a while, trying to memorize the carve of the void inside your chest. When you inhale, you feel nothing has changed.

“…Shit.”

Your spine curves to the shape of the park bench when you stretch, and you drop your head and allowing it to hang over the edge, looking skyward.

You take the time to admire the night, the dark sky draping like a blanket, stretching further into the universe than you could comprehend. This was the home to stars, twinkling like shiny little gems embedded in an inky pool.

Suddenly, the park lamps turn on with a click, flooding the park with soft yellow light. When the two beside your bench go off, your shadow reaches far and long to skim the edge of the fountain, stone and water illuminated an artificial glow, glittering softly.

You stay like this for a while, finding the sound of water soothing.

Some time passes and the night is stagnant until you catch a scent of something bitter and tart.

You pull yourself upright and peek around for the source of the smell, disbelieving your eyes when you see a familiar mop of purple hair through the shrubbery, moving closer to you.

You want to preserve your moment of solitude and consider diving into the bushes, but he turns the corner and catches your eye before you can scramble to your feet.

A divot works it’s way into his cheek. He pulls the cigarette away, smoke billowing from his mouth like a dragon, lips turning upwards in a smile that didn’t seem like a smile at all. His bandages were sparser now, though the bruising was more prominent now that they weren’t obscured by patches.

You sit silently when he’s approaching, when he’s nearing, and when he’s in front of you.

“Do you mope everywhere you go, or do you like to explore new places?”

He raises the cigarette to his lips again and your eyes watch as the bandage by the corner of his lip folds and stretches as he wraps his mouth around the stick of tobacco. His chest expands up and out when he takes a deep puff, holding it in his lungs for one, two, three seconds before turning away to release it into the air.

“…I was just in the area.”

He nods to acknowledge your answer but you are unsure if he was even listening. He sits beside you, crossing one leg on top of the other.

It stays like that for a few moments. The sound of water streaming from the fountain accompanied by the occasional deep inhale, then exhale beside you. It feels strange, feels empty, yet whole.

“How’s the face?

He doesn’t answer immediately, takes another slow drag before turning his head in your direction.

“Better, nothing too serious.”

You want to ask what he deems is “serious,” but decide against it.

“That’s good to hear.”

You’re both dancing around each other. You knew it, he knew it.

All small talk and avoiding the tension that was thick enough to cut through with a hot knife.

Wolf seemed interested in your bravado and the moping manner in which you carry yourself. You wonder if he finds you funny for being the anomaly to approach him like a drunken buffoon, or pathetic for bringing storm clouds to wherever he’d find you.

“Jagga High?” He’s staring at your uniform, and you subconsciously fold your hands over your thighs, where the skirt ends. He looks away, but a smirk rests precariously atop his lips. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

The challenge rests at the tip of your tongue, burning to ask him what exactly he meant by “the type,” but you bite your lip and stop yourself.

“You’re right. I’m not the type.” You watch the smoke curl from his lips and swirl into a dance before vanishing into the air. “But I was.”

You expect him to laugh at you, to mock you, but his lips are set in a straight line and his face is stoic, still facing the fountain.

“People change.”

There’s a peculiar and unanticipated softness in the usual hard edge of his voice. It takes you by surprise, but you push down the reaction because the incident seems delicate, like a layer of glass tempered so thin it would shatter with the slightest of touches.

Your attempt to reel in your emotions makes you miss a beat, then another until it extends again into silence.

You wonder what it is with Wolf Keum and silence. There’s always a part of you that wants to hear him speak more, curious what’s going on in his head, yet it seems unholy, sacrilegious even, to break the quiet and demand his attention.

“Why are you out here?” He asks, and the moment the question leaves his lips you know there’s no room for lying.

“It just happened. I wasn’t feeling good.”

Inhale. He assesses it as the truth, releases his breath in a cloud of methanol and nicotine. Exhale.

“You should know not to sit in a park at night. Dangerous bastards everywhere.”

You look at him, the hum of the streetlights buzzing in your fingertips like adrenaline.

“Are you dangerous?”

It’s a dare, a gauntlet of challenge thrown at his feet. You don’t know why you asked or what you expected, but it was funny to you in that strange, twisted way. It meant you knew Wolf wouldn’t understand your intent either, wouldn’t be able to read into it and take you apart like a puzzle. And you wanted to keep him on his toes the way he did you.

He glances over at you, the burning end of his cigarette pooling a rich ember light in his glasses and cheeks. He tries to understand you, comes up empty handed.

Your lips quirk up and he notices with a flash in his eyes.

His voice drops a bit, a whisper bordering on soundlessness. “Depends who you are.”

Inhale, exhale.

The moon hangs full and low in the sky, melting through the foliage in the trees and casting strange dancing shadows upon your forms.

“Me.”

Wolf lets his eyes slip shut upon hearing your response, a rumbling chuckle sitting low in his throat, dying out before it can make it past his lips. Eyelashes flutter and his eyes are open again, settling on you, on your face, peering into your eyes, into your soul, and again he manages to break you down.

His answer is spoken in a strange manner, thick and dripping with something that sounds like a sickly cross between temptation and a threat.

“Very.”

The simplicity of it is enough to make your mouth run dry.

You wonder how a single word could be spoken with such tenacity. It underscores the overwhelming presence he carries with him-- adrenaline chasing Wolf Keum, risk taking Wolf Keum, takes-what-he-wants Wolf Keum. It raises the hairs on your arms and sends a dark shudder down your spine because it sounds like a promise, and you tear your gaze away from his when you find confidence too becoming on him.

You search for something to return in wit but find that the list of things that come up can’t be spoken without volatility creeping into your voice. So you don’t say anything, and Wolf takes the silence as a viable answer.

He smiles, you can see it from the corner of your eye. A wicked smile, a close lipped smile, a risky one that pumped the blood through your veins faster, made your head spin.

You despised that it set your body and mind alight, so you spit out a question you knew would throw him off.

“How’s Donald?”

The persona he was fitting onto his form drops like a heavy cloak and his smile fades. A frown deepens on his face, bearing irritation at your reminder of his boss.

He leans back and doesn’t seem to want to play any longer. You’re both thankful and disappointed it worked.

“Th’fuck should I know?”

The two fingers pinching the cig exert more force, folding the crisp clean exterior. He doesn’t show it much other than the soft brush of a scowl, but you can tell he’s tenser now because his shoulders bunch more tightly, he breathes less with his stomach and more with his chest.

“Did you talk to him after that?”

He’s quiet. Just when you think he won’t answer, he does but avoids the question.

“He’s a fucking lunatic.”

You hum and choose to stop asking, wondering if you had picked a bad topic to throw his attention with. He seemed sour now, more so than you had anticipated.

You direct your gaze wayward and into the stars, pondered on this Donald character and wondered why someone as fearsome as Wolf Keum should have any reason to dodge an attempt to stand his ground.

Crickets begin to concoct a symphony of the oncoming night, a haunting refrain that eases your bones and melts into your muscles. In your periphery you think you see Wolf take a deep breath and soundlessly release it, shoulders slumping and head dropping.

You consider asking him what’s on his mind, but there’s no point if you know he won’t be honest.

Instead, you both soak in the swathing stillness that always seems to tail the both of you like shadows, an eerie calm that lingers like an aftertaste of something that could’ve been sweet, might’ve been tooth-rottenly addicting, could still be, if either of you chose to do anything about it.

In this moment, neither of you do.

Somehow, sitting under the veil of the night with nocturnal lifeforms coming to life, the gentle hum of the odious lamps and water playing in the background, just the company of an almost-stranger is enough.

Smoke wisps wordlessly about in the air, carried away by a slight breeze and teases your nose with a bitter tang. Then he’s offering you something, palm turned up, the burning stick of tar and nicotine between two lithe fingers. Holds out the cigarette to you, dark temptation.

The hesitation that bars your mind is thin and frail. You part it like a curtain and feel it’s tendrils grasping at you, but it does nothing to stop the endeavor.

A hand is reaching out, and suddenly the source of the acrid odor is pinched between your index finger and thumb.

You can see it in the haze of yellow lights, the darker tinge on the end of cigarette that Wolf had wrapped his mouth around, still moist from sitting upon his lips. Raising it to your lips, there’s the sensation of irredeemable depravation lying heavily in your mind, Wolf Keum’s cigarette. Green eyes flash in your vision, but the decadence sways you, beckons like a siren’s song.

When you seal your lips around the smoke it feels shamefully intimate, paper slightly damp from his use and cooled with the night air. You swallow thickly and you swear the sound does not go unnoticed by Wolf, though he doesn’t turn to look at you. Like a tease, like a taunt, like staring at the water spouting from the fountain is so much more entertaining than you.

You close your eyes and take a slow drag, mordant smoke filling your lungs like a balloon. Hold, then back out again. You cough once, and extend it back to him, deeper in the dregs now than ever before.

When he takes the smoke from you, his amber gaze meets yours and he doesn’t dare break away until he’s wrapped his lips around the filter, where your mouth had been seconds ago.

It coils something tight and hot in your stomach but you wipe your face clear, posing a tranquil air and refusing to give him the reaction he seeks.

His eyes linger, one, two, and it’s gone.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks.

You know what he means but scoff anyways, shaking your head slightly. “Do you try to sound as rude as possible, or does it come naturally?”

Inhale, exhale. At this point, it’s rhythmic. Calming.

“I just like to get to the point.”

You give a dry chuckle and he pretends he doesn’t notice you dodging his question.

With his wit and banter, you begin to fit together pieces of Wolf Keum’s personality. Dark, elusive, and volatile.

It begs the question, “Have you done things you regret?”

You don’t expect him to respond right away, because he never does. He always turns over the question in his head, examining it from all angles- examining you from all angles- before he puts together an answer.

But this time is different. This time, his answer comes out almost too quickly, snatching the shroud of confidence from him with breathy exhale.

“So many times.”

You look at Wolf in the pooling light of the low hanging moon and the way he stares into the inky blue is sad and evocative. He’s reminiscent of olden renaissance art, eyes gilded with gold, shimmering in the dark, body collapsing into itself like drapery.

The charring ember cigarette dangling from his lips paints an orange hue across his cheeks, his lips, his eyes-- they’re so deep you feel gravity sucking you in, beguiling with dark lashes framing a spiral into inky depths.

He was fragmented.

You could tell with the way he inhaled the fumes without flinching, with the way he could stare at and straight through you at the same time. And yet you could still see pieces of yourself through and within the jagged cracks, like a mirror reflecting the abominable image of itself.

You close your eyes and feel his presence, inhale his scent, sharp and jarring like ink, earth, and smoke. He sounded pained, remorseful. And you understand him.

“Me too.”

It doesn’t take a single word to pass between the both of you, but you both know the conversation is done and you’re fine with that. You don’t get up to leave for a long time, and neither does he.

Not when he finishes his first smoke, the second, or when the owls begin to coo.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #weak hero x reader #WEAKHEROFANDOMUNITE #wolf keum x reader #wolf keum #alex go #alex go x reader #fanfiction #reader insert

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hanadolphieron · 4 years

Text

surfer!jungeun~

warnings; none

genre; fluff

pairing; kim jungeun x gender neutral reader

word count; 1.5k

summary; you meet a squad of surfers while eating your lunch and one of them, the woman, the myth, the legend, kim jungeun, ends up teaching you her craft.

“jo serim, eat my fries one more time and i will squirt ketchup all over your precious hair.”

“i’m hungry, sihyeon~”

“you ate about fifteen slices of bacon this morning. there is no way you’re hungry.”

your two best friends have already commenced their arguing and it’s only 12 o’clock in the afternoon. you sigh loudly, stealing one of sihyeon’s fries while she’s busy berating serim for her love of savory food.

serim, of course, sees you and alerts sihyeon, but siheyon, of course, thinks serim is lying and gets her tomato paste weapon ready.

you heckle at them and grab sihyeon’s arm, making her set the ketchup back on the table. she reluctantly lets you, warning that you could be next.

your take a bite out of your burger. your eyes wander around the restaurant’s patio. it’s small, with the average sets of tables and chairs seated on it. the ordering area is right in your line of vision and you see a pack of girls walk up to it.

it’s a bunch of surfers. looks like they’ve come straight of the beach. one of them appears about ready to snarl at her hair- the sand just does not want to be dusted off.

one of the girls in the front catches your eye. she looks to be the quietest one in the group, standing off the side, the epitome of a tsundere girl crush. you catch her eye as she zones back in to her friends’ conversation and then orders her food.

you smile at her. she looks a little surprised and awkwardly grimaces back.

“the people here are so nice,” serim gushes next to you, “everyone i’ve seen so far has either waved, smiled, or made eye contact with me! i feel so appreciated!”

“yeah,” sihyeon agrees, “must be the food. anyone who gets to eat this good of a burger every day should be excruciatingly happy.”

the irony of the situation almost makes you laugh. you smile despite your slight embarrassment at the girl’s reaction to your normal, humane greeting. your friends take it as a sign that you agree with their observations.

the flock of surfers sit down at the table next to you. the girl you smiled at seems to tense up as she sits down. probably because of the close proximity of strangers. that always seems to be the case of nerves in detached types.

you continue eating your burger, finishing up the last few bites. sihyeon’s ready to go back up for more ice cream. serim’s complaining that she didn’t even have enough time to drink all of her lemonade and it won’t taste good with dairy!

sihyeon’s about to grab serim’s arm and manhandle her up to the counter, but before she can, one of the surfers next to you interrupts, saying, “hey, do you guys want to come down to the beach with us?”

“sure!” onda says happily without hesitation, looking ready to jump up and down.

“yeah,” you and sihyeon chorus at the same time, a little after serim.

“good, it’s getting boring. no one our age ever hangs out here, they’re all at muri beach.”

“why don’t you go down there then?” sihyeon asks curiously.

“it’s a bay, so there’s no waves. too calm for surfing.” the girl responds, tying her hair up in a ponytail and stretching. “anyways, the name’s heejin. i’m the swaggy one in this group.”

“never say the word ‘swaggy’ again,” another one responds, “i’m yves, by the way,” she adds as an afterthought before stuffing a fry into her mouth.

“i’m hyunjin.”

“my name’s jinsoul.”

“jungeun.”

you and your flock of friends introduce yourselves as well, and everyone slowly gets up, grabs their stuff and shuffles down to the water.

everyone talks comfortably, the easy vibes from the surfers seem to have osmosis-ed over to you.

“wait, i need to grab my dog. my mom dropped him off,” yves says before turning around and running back up the restaurant.

“her mom just left the dog unattended?” you ask.

“yeah,” jungeun responds, “it’s a nice dog.”

“understandable. that makes complete sense.”

jungeun senses your sarcasm at her dry response and rolls her eyes. she opens her mouth to retort, but the sound of crashing waves drowns out the noise. you hadn’t realized how loud the ocean was until you were standing right in front of it.

“that’s loud!” serim shouts.

“yeah,” jinsoul yells back, “let’s move further back so we don’t have to yell!”

the group turns around and moves away from the water to set up camp.

everyone rolls out their towels. serim is very happy with her hello kitty one and shows jinsoul excitedly. jinsoul is endeared by this.

yves comes flailing down the beach, fluffy puppy struggling to keep up with its speedy bird of an owner.

“doggy!” serim screams. sihyeon is close behind, audibly keyboard smashing. you jump up too, trying not to hide your smile but failing miserably. there goes your cold, sarcastic first impression.

the three of you collapse onto the dog, who is thoroughly enjoying the attention and is about to wag its tail off.

“what’s its name?” sihyeon says, looking at yves who is doting on the puppy as well.

“haru”

“IT”S SO CUTE!” serim screams, frightening the dog.

“you scared it!” you scold playfully, picking up stealing haru and running back to the group.

“give him back!” serim sounds appalled as she chases after you.

“nope!” you say, and continue running, falling down onto a towel, canine in hand. serim falls on top of you, almost squishing the doggo but he manages to wriggle out of your grips before anything detrimental happens.

you giggle at serim’s attempts to fight you and tickle her sides. she shrieks in your ear and you shove her off, revealing a figure standing in your line of vision.

jungeun.

“uh, hi?” you say, a little embarrassed because why in the world is she staring at you with such a weird look on her face?

“hello. that’s my towel.”

“oh, i’m so sorry, i was just uhm, trying to outrun serim here, and ended up collapsing on it.” you stand up quickly, brushing some sand off.

“no, i mean you can still use it, i’m about to head over and start surfing, so i won’t need it just yet, i was just a little surprised.”

there’s an awkward silence. you open your mouth to say something, but jungeun asks, “do you want to come with me?”

“surfing?” you say.

“yeah. i could teach you.”

“sure,” you agree, shrugging your shoulders. surfing can’t be that hard.

“good luck,” jinsoul tells you, “surfing’s tough. especially with jungeun teaching you.”

“i thought you were an expert?!” you exclaim at your newfound surfing mentor.

“i am, jinsoul just doesn’t know true talent when she sees it.”

“it’s okay jinsoul, i’ll be there to make sure she doesn’t kill y/n or something,” heejin sighs.

“have fun!” serim encourages before going back to intensely focusing on digging her toes into the sand.

* * *

“are you 100% sure about this? my life’s feeling a little threatened.”

“you’ll be fine, y/n. i’m here to protect you,” jungeun comforts you with a wink.

heejin rolls her eyes at the two of you, “i’m going to surf over there and leave you two by yourselves. holler if y/n dies. i don’t care what happens to jungeun, as long as i’m not going to be blamed for it.”

you and jungeun snort as heejin swims away.

“so, first you’re going to jump on the board and sit on it. you need to learn how to balance before you do anything.”

you groan as you haul yourself up on the board. everybody say yay for public embarrassment!

luckily, you’re still in shallow water and jungeun is holding your board so you don’t get obliterated by the waves just yet.

you sit on the board. “what now?” you ask, conflicted between looking digruntled and attentive.

“now, you’re going to stand up,” jungeun is trying not to grin maniacally. you’re resentful but still listening so well and it’s the most endearing thing she’s ever seen.

“quit smiling like that. i know you’re trying not to laugh at me,” you whine.

jungeun just shakes her head. you have no idea.

with wobbly legs, you squat on your board and slowly stand up. however, your limbs decide to mutiny against you and you lose your balance, falling into the water.

“let’s try that again,” jungeun says, helping you up.

this time, she grabs hold of your hand as you try to stand up again. you’re still for a few seconds before your legs get wild once again. however, jungeun rests her hand on your waist in order to center you.

this gesture causes you to lose focus even more. normally you’re chill about people being touchy with you or even flirting, but for some reason jungeun is making you internally combust. must be the way her eyebrows quirk up whenever she speaks to you, or the subtle touches, or her natural commanding persona, or how she tries really hard to look cold but you just know she’s a big softie, or-

“hey, you good? you look murderous.”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you pause for a second, recalling where you are.

“wait, i’m standing up!” you exclaim.

jungeun chuckles at your realization, “good observation.”

“can we try actually surfing now?”

“sure, you might fall again, but you seem to learn fast.”

“it’s okay, the water will catch me.”

“i guess it will,” jungeun shrugs, and the two of you swim into the open ocean together.

@catgirlkimlip put many thots in my head

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shuahoonie · 4 years

Text

you [tom holland] - eight.

PAIRING: tom holland x female!celebrity!reader

SUMMARY: ah, to be young and in love. it sounds great if only you and tom were actually dating out of pure love and not for the sheer reputation of your careers. it also should be great if you two actually got along, but life isn’t that easy.

WARNINGS: mostly swearing! some fluff here, some angst there. it’s haters to lovers / fake dating au so take that information as you wish! also, their relationship is improving yall 🤧

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

SONG INSPO: mxmtoon - used to you

A/N: surprise! I actually updated after five/six months??? a lot of things have happened during the time that I was gone. most of it revolved around my mental health and uni. not a great time to have a career crisis whilst living in the middle of a pandemic lmao.

the last time i updated, i gave you guys the gift of fluff. maybe i should tone down a bit? or maybe not? i’m also sorry if this took ages. had an awful writer’s block. oooh, also i wrote an interview excerpt for this chapter. i added a link if you wanted to read it but no pressure! it’s just a lil’ sumn sumn :) anyway, enjoy reading!

hope you guys are safe & healthy! keep practicing social distancing and please wear your masks! sending all my love ♡

UPDATES EVERY SATURDAY 11 PM CST WHENEVER I CAN

gif credits: @tommybabyholland

Your friends have told you countless times to bite the bullet, however, you’ve seemed to swallow it instead. Here you were, lying in the same bed with Tom Holland, mere inches against each other.

If anyone told you that you would be lying on the same bed as the guy you swore you hated a few months ago, you’d probably laugh at their face.

You were definitely considering that maybe this whole fake dating thing wasn’t such a horrid idea after all.

The room was dimmed to almost pitch black now. You could see a small streak of light peering from the curtains, probably from all of the street lights outside, allowing you to at least see something. You were exhausted but somehow you couldn’t sleep at the same time.

The only reasonable thing that you could put your blame into was your heart, which was beating quite rapidly, by the way. You didn’t even know why you felt this nervous around him, it’s not like he’s a complete stranger.

You’ve known Tom for a good two months—two and a half if you want to be specific. You picked up on his little quirks: his eyes crinkle when he laughs genuinely, he doesn’t like that much sugar in his tea. He likes his dog, Tessa, very much which you were already a goner for. He also hums when he’s happy which surprised you one day, not knowing what to do with that information.

You also found out that his hands were always cold, which always startles you as your hands were extremely warm. Like right now, you could feel his fingertips grazing upon yours. As if your heart can handle even more of your emotions right now.

You were confused as to why you were extremely nervous around him all of a sudden. Is it because this is the first time your sharing a bed with your pretend boyfriend? Is it because the last time you shared a bed with someone who you had no relation to is with your ex-boyfriend?

It was driving you insane and you really had to get it together. You were both lying on your backs so all you could stare at was the empty ceiling. You took a quick look at Tom, who was already sleeping.

Ah, so he snores. You made a mental note to yourself, wondering how you can use that information and pester him with it. He didn’t have loud snores, just soft ones but still loud for you to hear.

You turned your body and lain on your side, choosing to face Tom. He really looked peaceful sleeping and the sight of him be at peace was enough to calm you down.

With that, you found your eyes slowly start to droop down. The image of Tom sleeping soundly was the last thing you saw before you drifted off to sleep.

You noticed three things as soon as you woke up. You still had your eyes shut, only because you refuse to accept that it was already a new day.

The first thing you noticed was the annoying alarm tone that kept ringing on the bedside table. One of these days, I’ll end up throwing and smashing my phone.

The second thing was how hot warm you felt. You felt the heat radiating beside you and you weren’t exactly used to it. You like the feeling of sleeping in a cold room while also burying yourself with blankets.

The third thing you noticed was the pair of arms wrapped around you. As you slowly opened your eyes, you were greeted by the extremely close proximity that you shared with Tom.

You found yourself cuddling Tom. Your head was resting in between his chest and his arm—the same arm that was wrapped around you. In the meanwhile, Tom’s other hand was resting on the side of your face, building the illusion that he may have caressed the side of your face.

You, on the other hand, had your left arm resting on top of his chest while the other was tucked underneath the pillow.

You wondered how the hell you ended up in this position, but knowing how you move a lot in your sleep, you probably initiated this in the first place. You also wondered how Tom can sleep through this annoying alarm, especially since it kept ringing every ten minutes.

Tilting your head up a bit, your eyes met the sight of his lips. However, from this angle, you could also clearly see the freckles speckled on his face. With the beaming sun and its fight to fill the room with light against the corners of the curtains, it only made things worse for you. Tom, with his body outlined by the light, absolutely looked angelic—as if the universe only favoured him and him alone.

You slowly reached for his hand and removed it from the corner of your neck, carefully resting it on top of his stomach. After successfully doing so, comes the real challenge. You slowly released yourself from the grip of his arm and tried your best to get out of the bed without waking Tom up.

Your logic? It would be rude to wake someone up from their sleep—especially when they can’t be bothered to be woken up by the alarm anyway. You also wanted this moment for yourself. You thought that it was best if Tom had no recollection of waking up to you two cuddling, acting as a true couple when there are no cameras around you.

You walked to the bathroom to get yourself ready. You had a whole day of photoshoots and you also had to squeeze in a couple of interviews after. You didn’t want to miss your best friend’s wedding so you had to do whatever you can in order to balance your social life and work.

You already knew that you were going to be exhausted for today and you love your job, you really do, but sometimes you wished that you could catch a break without losing sleep for the next couple of days.

After taking a long hot shower and doing your essential skin routine—knowing that this is the only form of relaxation you’re going to get for the next couple of days— you slipped into a pair of mom jeans and a loose shirt. You packed this much because you knew you wouldn’t get the chance to drive home anyway.

Just as you stepped out of the bathroom, your phone buzzed in your hand and saw a text from your manager.

Zoë: On my way to the hotel! I will be there in 20 mins or so. Be sure that you’re ready so we can get going.

“Oh, you’re already good to go?” You looked up from your phone and saw Tom yawning and rubbing his eyes. He was still wearing your sweatpants and he was still shirtless.

You nodded. “Zoë’s picking me up.” You replied as you tidied the bed. It took you a couple of minutes before the words you said just sunk in. “Oh god, Zoë’s picking me up.” You repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah?” Tom chuckled, seemingly lost as to what you were trying to point out.

“She doesn't really know that you slept with me.” You said but as soon as you realized what you just said, you knew you fucked up. You saw Tom smirking at you which only prompted you to hit him with the pillow. “I didn’t mean it like that, you weirdo.”

“Oh, sure.” He teased as he put on his shirt. “I mean I’m pretty sure that I’m not the one who practically clung to a person while sleeping.”

“Shut up, Holland. You know I move a lot when I sleep.” You muttered as a pathetic excuse to hopefully shut him up.

“To be quite fair, I didn’t know that you do that whenever you sleep, but it’s nice to know that now.” He grinned.

“Oh god,” You groaned. “Let’s just go so I can check out now. Zoë’s going to be here soon and I want you gone asap.” You said as you glanced around the room just so you know you didn’t leave anything behind.

“Wait, what about your sweatpants?”

“Just give it to me the next time you see me.” You said as you pulled him out of the room and made your way to the front desk.

It turns out Zoë had no concept of time. As soon as you finished checking out, you saw your manager already waiting in the lobby. Oh, you recognized her big blonde hair from anywhere. She was sitting in one of the plush sofas, dressed in a white romper and even had her cat-eye sunglasses on. She looked like she’s about to catch her husband having an affair.

“Ah, Y/N,” She said with a huge smile. “Thanks but you should know if that ever were to happen, I would pick something more flashy.”

Oh, I said that out loud?! You practically yelled at yourself.

“We should get going, honey, we’ll grab you some breakfast on the way.” Zoë fixed the stray strands of your hair. You couldn’t be bothered to do your hair knowing that the stylists are going to give it hell anyway, so you just tied it in a low ponytail.

“Um,” You didn’t even know how to say it. Where you even going to bring Tom up? If so, what were you going to say anyway? That you spent a night with your pretend boyfriend? Which shouldn’t be a huge deal but you were sure that your stunt doesn’t involve actually falling for each other.

“Tom,” Zoë’s pitch went a bit higher, surprised to see Tom standing behind you. “What’re you doing here, hon?” She asked quietly.

“Oh, I-”

“He spent the night with me. Tom was exhausted and it wasn’t safe for him to drive last night, so I asked him to stay.” You explained, cutting Tom off. You just wanted to get it over with and you were bound to face the storm sooner or later anyway.

Zoë stared at the two of you for a moment, an undistinguishable look painted all over her face. You took a quick look at Tom who was also observing your manager’s reaction.

However, she chose to drop it. “Alright, c’mon, honey. You have a long day today.” Your manager said after she flashed Tom a smile and turned around, leaving you both relieved.

As you watched your manager leave and walk towards her vehicle, you turned to Tom and said, “I guess I’ll see you soon?”

Tom smiled and nodded, “I’ll see you soon, my darling.” He said softly.

You felt your cheeks start to burn again so you did what you always do whenever you don’t know how to respond or when you’re just plain embarrassed—walk away and practically scream inside your head.

You were walking—sprinting, more like— towards the vehicle and when you got in, you were greeted with a big smile by Zoë. It terrified you.

“Y/N, hon,” She initiated with a soft voice. “You know sooner or later this stunt will all come to an end right?”

“Yeah, I know.” You answered, slightly confused as to why this was brought up all of a sudden.

“Okay, good, good...” Zoë trailed off. “I just—I see how things may escalate and I don’t want to see you hurt, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know.” You acknowledged, though this time you said it in a whisper. It was day 78 that you came clean to yourself and realized maybe you were developing a tiny crush on Tom.

The people from the magazine were doing a feature story on you. Not only that you were going to be on the cover of the magazine, but you were also going to get a ten-page spread that included an interview. The whole theme of the issue was individuality so your spread had to be rooted from your style, so the outfits, the makeup, and hair had to base off of you as a concept while still adding an editorial element to it.

You were already wearing the third outfit, wearing a pink frilly floral dress and it had hand-stitched and delicately placed flowers for the details—in which the outfit was inspired by your character in your tv series.

You were waiting for your hair and makeup to be done at the same time. The set was going to be in a pool so you also had to have your manicure and pedicure done. Basically, you had no control over your body.

“How are you doing, hon?” Zoë asked as she passed by your chair.

“’m still okay,” You mumbled. “Can I take a sip from my coffee though?”

Maria’s, the nail tech for this shoot, eyes went wide. “Your nails aren’t dry yet,” She pointed out.

“Please, Maria?” You pouted. You were literally about to pass out from exhaustion and you still had a full day ahead.

Maria rolled her eyes and gave in. “Fine, I’ll hold the cup.” She said before she grabbed your coffee from your manager.

As you happily indulged the coffee, you heard Ruby, the makeup artist, let out a sigh behind you.“Y/N, I just did your makeup.”

“Nothing bad happened! I just need to reapply the lipstick, it’s okay.” You quickly defended.

“Child, you are going to be the death of me,” Ruby mumbled loud enough for the two of you. “You’re lucky I like you because if my other clients did this I would’ve grabbed their coffee and then they would’ve gone full diva on me.”

You just gave her a huge smile before she reapplied your lipstick. The hairstylist just finished doing your hair, pinning tiny flowers all over your hair and having them scattered all over. You couldn’t believe that you had flowers all over your hair again—which only reminded you of Tom and what happened last night.

Last night felt so surreal. It was the first time you two didn’t have knives on each other’s necks. It was the first time you felt comfortable around him and the experience was very intimate, it almost drove you mad.

However, your manager’s words echoed back at you. It’s all a stunt and it will come to an end.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” The photographer asked, breaking up your thoughts. Am I?

From pink frilly dresses to big tan sherpa coats, you were finally done with the photo shoot. The shoot went on for hours and all you wanted to do was to get rid of everything that your skin and hair had to endure. However, it doesn’t end there. You still had to do a short interview for the magazine.

You were still wearing one of the outfits you had for the shoot—a black tube-top jumpsuit that clung into your body like second skin, along with tall pencil-heeled black pumps. This was definitely far from comfortable nor is it something that you’d wear, but you did like how it looked on you. “I look like the cold-hearted editor-in-chief in a magazine from a Hallmark movie” was all you said when you looked in the mirror.

You had to excuse yourself from the young journalist who patiently waited for you as your photoshoot ran a bit late. She was drinking the coffee that you had given her—a small token of an apology for the time she probably wasted waiting.

She gladly understood and went on with the interview. You were glad to do so anyway since you’re embarrassed for making her wait. You were asked about Amelia, the character that you play in the show Alchemist.

As Y/N eased into the interview, still wearing one of her outfits from the photoshoot, she was asked about her resonation with her character. “I see only tiny bits of myself as her—that being hard-headed and using self-deprecating jokes as a coping mechanism,” she answered with a small laugh.

You were also asked about your personal struggle between dropping out of school—potentially ruining your future— and your unstable acting career.

She thought she possibly made a huge mistake of ruining her future. Luckily, Y/N received a casting call for the show Alchemist. “I still believe it’s pure luck. I’m lucky that I got the part and the show helped me shape my career, however, I can’t deny that I was really close to giving up.”

Of course, the current state of your love life had to be included.

“Yeah, I am seeing someone.” Y/N admits with a soft smile. “People know who he is and frankly, I don’t think I have to explicitly say his name as who I date shouldn’t be anyone’s business.” Her cheeks were flushed red as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Y/N was kind enough to explain that she didn’t mean it to sound so harsh, but she still stands firm with her words.

You quickly and kindly expressed to the journalist that you mean well. You had no intention of being rude or for it to sound rude, but you still hold true to your words. The journalist was kind enough to understand your sentiments regarding this.

The interview ended in a breeze and you were absolutely longing for the time when you can take a nice long bath. You quickly thanked the journalist as she bid her way goodbye.

You can only hope that this cover issue finds you well.

Time went by slowly and yet very quickly at the same time. You haven’t seen any of your friends for a couple of weeks as you’ve been occupied by filming, doing interviews, and photoshoots.

You haven’t seen Tom in quite a while too—which you didn’t mind. You actually used this time to reevaluate your uncertain feelings for him. People at set didn’t seem to notice that he rarely showed up at your shoots—at least if they did, they would just assume that he’s busy since he did have an endless list of projects.

As you were still uncertain about where your feelings lie with Tom, you chose this time to at least try and forget about him. Admittedly, it was difficult since people would always bring him up at some point or he would just be everywhere on social media.

This time apart from Tom did give you a sense of peace. You weren’t in the constant state of practically having a heart attack around him, no matter how cliché it sounds. You hated that he had this effect on you but you had to act like everything’s fine—hoping that you’re doing a damn well job because acting is how you put food on the table.

However, just like the opening lyrics of One Direction’s most gut-wrenching song, Love You Goodbye, mentioned: “It’s inevitable, everything that’s good comes to an end.”

And boy, did it end alright.

Ronnie: pls tell me it’s actually ur day off bc I really plan on having dinner with u. 🥺

You were about to have a long, relaxing bath (infused with epsom salts of course) when you read the text from your best friend. You were longing for this heaven-like bath and there’s no way you’re going to pass it up.

You: technically yes. the shoot ran till morning but all i’ve done since then was sleep. I'm about to take a bath tho & not planning to get out until i turn into a human prune lmao

Ronnie: ok! I'll buy us dinner, any suggestions?

You: really craving for some hearty Korean food rn 🤧

Ronnie: gotcha! I'll get u ur usual, do u want me to buy drinks too?

You were still debating whether to go drinking tonight when your phone pinged, indicating a text.

Ronnie: babes you’re taking too long. I'm getting us drinks.

You: guess there’s no way out then lmao

Ronnie: oh u bet. I'll be there in an hour-ish, maybe earlier.

You: might still be in the bath when u arrive. 😬

Ronnie: nah you’re ok haha. I have keys anyway and I'll make myself at home but u already knew that. 😌

You rolled your eyes but still had a smile on your face. You eventually gave Veronica some duplicates as she was constantly popping by anyway. It didn’t make sense for both of you to keep Ronnie out, waiting for you to come home when you could easily just give her some keys. At some point, you even asked her to move in. She is dancing around the idea though.

Turning your phone off, you stepped into your epsom-salt-bubble bath—ready to shut off from the world and embrace the relaxation.

After strategically propping your laptop at the bathroom counter, you’ve managed to finish two episodes of New Girl whilst you were in the tub. You could’ve used the bathtub tray that Olivia got you for your birthday, but you couldn’t trust yourself with that type of risk—no matter how careful you were.

It wasn’t long when you heard a small commotion coming from the living room. You had your eyebrows furrowed, surely it was just Ronnie who’s dropping by today. Unless she invited Olivia too?

Stepping out of the tub, you wrapped a towel around your body. You shut off your laptop and grabbed your phone before you left the bathroom.

“Ronnie?” You called out above the chatter from the living room. “Ronnie, is that you?”

“Yeah, right here, babes!” You heard her yell back. Upon reaching the living room, you saw Ronnie setting the food down on the table with Harrison putting the drinks down. “Oh, hey! I got us bibimbap and tteokbokki from Kim’s Kitchen. I also asked for extra kimchi because that is to die for.” Veronica exclaimed with a huge smile. “Oh and Mrs. Kim says hi.”

You forced a huge smile in response, turning to your best friend and subtly motioning at Harrison who was standing beside her.

“Oh! oh! Y/N, I hope you don’t mind that I invited them. They called me the same time as I texted you and I figured you wouldn’t mind because we’re all friends here, right?” Veronica smiled nervously.

“A head’s up would’ve been nice, because...” You motioned to yourself, pointing out that you were still in your towel. “I mean it is my home and I should dress however I want but obviously you got your boyfriend here. The least I could do is look presentable.”

Harrison turned red and so did Veronica. “Y/N, Harrison is not my boy—”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ll go get changed.” You rolled your eyes and dismissed the entire thing. What can you do, kick them out? Wait—

“Wait, did you say “them” earlier? Is anyone else coming?” You asked.

“Uh...” Veronica was looking for the right words to say until her eyes met someone else’s and looked right past you.

You turned around and saw Tom standing in the middle of the room, holding plates and cutlery from your kitchen. Pinching the bridge of your nose to prevent the emerging migraine you’re about to endure and closed your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“Uh—Hi, Y/N” Tom waved shyly. That’s all it took. All of those repressed feelings that you were trying to fight off were coming back. With your heart beating furiously, you knew you were a goner and you hated that.

“Hi Tom,” you muttered. You two haven’t spoken to each other in a while since the morning after the wedding. God, this is awkward.

You caught his eyes flickered to your body and put his head down, walking towards Harrison and Veronica, avoiding eye contact. You realized you were still in your towel, turning red. “Uh, I’ll go get changed.” You muttered, practically running towards your room to change.

You were changing into an oversized shirt and into some leggings when you heard a knock from the door. “I’m decent!” You yelled.

The door slowly opened, Tom peering from the other side.

“Oh, hey.” You greeted him as he slowly went inside your room. He was looking around, observing your room. Your bedroom wasn’t special but it’s your favourite place. The walls were painted white—which is why when the sun beams through your windows, it bounces off through the walls and illuminates your entire room. Your room consisted of white furniture and bedding, but you made up for it by putting numerous plants all over your room and using earthy tones such as blankets and decorative pillows as accents.

“Hey,” Tom stepped a bit closer “Sorry about earlier. If I knew you’d feel uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have come.” He apologized.

“No, you’re good. I guess I was just caught by surprise.” You quickly dismissed.

There was an odd silence. Is this what happens when you don’t talk for quite a while?

“Oh, I also wanted to give you this,” Tom said, handing you the sweatpants that he borrowed a while ago. The cursed night that brought you closer to each other, literally. Grabbing the neatly folded pants, your fingers gently grazed upon his—the first time you had physical contact ever since that night. “Don’t worry, I washed it.” He added.

“Eh, I think I’ll wash it again just to make sure.” You joked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

Tom let out a small laugh, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry.” You heard him say as you put your hair into a loose ponytail.

“For what?” You asked, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t exactly the finest “boyfriend” in the world.” He explained, putting air quotes on the word ‘boyfriend’. “I’d say I was busy but I should’ve made time.”

You gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, Tom.” You turned around to place the pants inside the drawer. “It’s not like you’re my actual boyfriend anyway.” You laughed awkwardly.

For some reason, that last sentence left an unpleasant feeling on you. Why are you longing for Tom anyway? Are you that deprived?

Tom let out an awkward chuckle and mumbled a quiet “yeah,”

There it is again. That awkward silence. Will this last for the entire night because this is going to be exhausting?

All of a sudden, Tom looked at you with a smile. “Why are we being weird?” Tom asked, laughing.

“Yeah, I don’t even know either,” You couldn't help but laugh as well. “I’m definitely not used to you being this quiet.”

“Are you saying that you missed it then?” He asked with a smirk. “Better yet are you saying that you missed me?”

You rolled your eyes. There’s the Tom that you knew. “I wouldn’t go that far, Tom.” You replied, fighting off a smile.

“’m just teasing, darling,” He laughed softly. “So, should we just forget everything and just be friends?” He asked, offering his hand.

You were about to reply when you heard a loud knock from the other side of the door. “Oi, are you two making out in there?” You heard Veronica yell obnoxiously from the other side.

“Veronica!” You shrieked out of pure embarrassment. You felt your face turning red, as if like you’re a preteen caught with her crush.

You pulled the door open and dragged Tom outside out of pure embarrassment, only to meet Veronica and Harrison who were leisurely sitting by the couch, trying to fight off their smirks.

“Food’s getting cold,” Harrison said innocently as you glared at the both of them.

“I see that you two are getting close,” Veronica commented eyeing both of your hands that were still clasped.

“I—uh,” You’re at a loss for words. You forgot the calm feeling of how Tom’s hands felt against yours.

You were about to let go when Tom raised both of your hands to show Haz and Ronnie. “I like holding her hand, it’s always so warm,” Tom commented with a soft smile. “One of the perks of fake dating, Y/N.”

Veronica took a good look at you while you were busy staring at Tom. Ronnie knows that stare of yours and if she’s being honest, she doesn’t know whether to feel happy or anxious for you.

“Yeah, that is until your hands get damp.” You teased, rolling your eyes. “Let’s just eat.” You said as you grabbed a cushion and sat on the floor.

“Okay, so what are we having?” Tom asked as he stared at the table full of Korean dishes.

“Well, I ordered each of us a bowl of bibimbap because I have no clue what you two like to eat” Ronnie said, pertaining to Tom and Harrison. She handed them each a bowl. “They’re all beef, by the way—oh except for Y/N’s, she has chicken.”

“Have you had bibimbap before?” You asked Tom who was behind you, sitting on the couch.

He shook his head in response, grabbing a cushion and opted to sit on the floor, right next to you. “I’ve had Korean BBQ before, does that count?”

“Not quite,” You laughed. “Here, I’ll add some chilli paste.”

“Darling, don’t add too much—” Tom argued while trying to grab the chilli paste from your hands. He ended just holding onto your hand instead.

“C’mon, it’s better when it’s spicy!” You defended, trying to squeeze more into his bowl.

“Are you sure you’re not adding that much because you hate me?” You could feel the close proximity of his face against yours.

“Oh, please,” You turned to face him “I could never hate you, Tommy.” You blinking innocently, trying to hide the fact that he’s literally inches away from you.

While you and Tom are practically exploring this whole new territory of closeness, Veronica was quietly watching it unfold in front of her eyes.

“They seem to be getting along quite well,” Harrison commented before shoving a spoon into his mouth.

“Yeah, maybe too well.” Veronica murmured, still staring at the couple in front of her.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Haz asked with a raised eyebrow. Curious.

Veronica couldn’t answer. Is it really a bad thing or was she just being overprotective? She should be happy for her friend! Heck, she should be happy that you and Tom were finally getting along for once.

Veronica chose to just look past it and accept the situation for what it is for now: a miracle.

“I guess not,” Veronica answered, smiling softly at Harrison who gladly smiled in return.

“Dinner was spectacular,” Tom commented with a smile “Well done, Ronnie.”

“Oh—psh!” Ronnie waved her hand nonchalantly, “That was nothing.”

“Yeah, because Mrs. Kim prepared all of it” You argued jokingly. “Besides, I suggested that we should have Korean cuisine tonight.”

“Then I guess I should thank you, Y/N,” Tom grabbed the sides of your face and squished your cheeks. “Thanks, darling.” He grinned.

You scrunched your face and took his hand away. “You’re annoying,” You told Tom while gathering the plates, starting to clear the table.

“I’ll get that, Y/N,” Harrison said while grabbing the plates from you. “I’ll do the dishes, you lot just stay put here.”

“Ooh, I’ll help!” Veronica stood up to help Harrison.

“No, it’s fine. Just stay there, Ronnie. It’s okay.” Harrison replied, his tone of voice suddenly warm towards Veronica.

“You’re so sweet,” Veronica said in awe. “But that won’t work for me, babe. I’ll help you, it’s totally okay.” She insisted, clearing the rest of the table and following Harrison towards the kitchen.

You were about to head into the spare bedroom when you felt Tom wrap his hands around yours. “Where are you going?” He asked.

“I’m just going to grab something,” You replied, “Even if I try to get away from you, I couldn’t. Trust me.” You teased.

Tom nodded understandably, letting go of your hand.

As you were on your way to the spare room, you couldn’t help but mumble “Why’s he being so clingy all of a sudden? Is this what he’s like to his friends?” You chose to shake off your thoughts against your better judgment.

“What’s that?” Tom asked as soon as you entered the living room.

“A bean bag chair,” You answered, dropping it in front of him. “So you can stop hogging my place on the sofa.”

“Aw, you got a bean bag chair just for me?” He asked with a huge grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t buy it just for you, dumb ass.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N.” He grinned. “Whatever you say.” Tom then sat on the bean bag chair, except he sat at the very upper part of it and tried to keep his balance whilst doing so.

This is the most boyish thing you’ve seen Tom do—no fancy clothing, no assistants around him, no cameras, none of it. He looked like an average guy, doing silly and harmless things, who’s just trying to have fun.

With that in mind, you couldn’t help but pull your phone out and film him doing so. Eventually, he caught on and saw that you had your phone out, giving a smile.

Laughing, you said, “That’s not how you sit on it!”

“I’ll sit on it however I want,” He teased. You quit filming and decided to upload the clip on your Instagram story. It was cute, pure, and authentic. Three words that you swore you wouldn’t use when pertaining to you and Tom.

This fake dating thing is getting harder and harder. Seeing that you and Tom finally decided to act friendly around each other, it’s definitely going to provoke the feelings you were trying to suppress from him.

“Okay, so I got bottles of soju.” Veronica announced while wiping her hands with the kitchen towel. “Anyone up for a Paranoia drinking game?” She asked with a smirk.

“Why must we play a game while drinking?” You asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I think it’ll be fun, Y/N.” Tom commented. “This is the right moment to build a tight bond with each other.”

“Yeah, because nothing says bonding like alcohol and using repressed feelings.” You mumbled.

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alittlebitmaybe · 4 years

Text

with a fated touch

For @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: reunion

Pairing: Geralt/Yennefer

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: PWP, Canon-Typical Mind Reading, Inappropriate Use of Magic, Cunnilingus, Facefucking/riding, Light D/S dynamics, Dirty Talk, Mild Praise Kink

Summary: (2.6k)

“Presumptuous,” she murmurs, running her forefinger over his bottom lip.

“Sorry,” Geralt says, not sounding so at all. His tongue comes out briefly to meet her touch. “I’ve missed this. You.”

Or: The first time they meet after the dragon hunt, Yennefer puts Geralt on his knees.

Read more on AO3 or below the cut!

Geralt’s hands slide up her thigh, pushing her dress higher, and gooseflesh erupts over her skin when cool air hits it. His other hand brushes her hair back from her shoulder while his mouth moves along the line of her collarbone, desperate open-mouthed kisses a counterpoint to the burn of his stubble as it drags against her.

He’s beginning to harden against her stomach. She fists her fingers through his loose hair, lets her nails scrape his scalp. He groans as she pulls him back.

“Are we doing this?” she asks him. He tries to lean in again, unfocused and helpless, but she channels chaos to hold him in place. “Geralt. Answer me.”

“Yen,” he says, gruff. She withholds a shiver. “I am trying to do this. If you’ll let me continue.”

His hand, without permit, continues its journey up her leg. She allows this for an inch, two, his thumb brushing the hem of her smallclothes, before reaching out with her magic and halting that too. His palm spans the width of her thigh—he looms over her—yet she can control him with a spell, a touch, a word. It never fails to send a thrill through her. He has no real power over her. He wants to be hers. He craves it.

“Don’t you want it?” he asks. That thumb sweeps back and forth at the crease of her hip, though it can move no higher. His other hand has settled around the back of her neck, tilting her up to meet his gaze. A wall of lust smashes into her from his thoughts, impossible to ignore. He projects it at her nevertheless. It rushes through her, slips hot down her spine. She could block it, but she doesn’t.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Always.” A betrayal, perhaps—she shouldn’t want him, it’s not real. But it’s not in her nature to deprive herself. Not when images are pushing into her mind, memories, fantasies, spreading the heat through her belly.

Geralt must know she’s attuned to him, because he says, “How do you want it?” An image of him on his back, her on top. Using him. “Like this?” Yennefer perched on her vanity with him before her, both of them fully clothed. “Or this?” Both of them on their sides on the bed, him curled behind her, her leg held high to make room for him. “I’m full of ideas. Say the word.”

“Presumptuous,” she murmurs, running her forefinger over his bottom lip.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding so at all. His tongue comes out briefly to meet her touch. “I’ve missed this. You.”

All at once she releases the magical restraints and yanks his mouth down to her own, kissing him with the same urgent passion that had driven them together all the way back in Rinde. She wants to mount him above her mantle. To sink her teeth in and rip him open. She does away with kindness—she hates him for what he’s done to her. For her own failure to resist him. For the longing that radiates from him under the lust. He has yearned for her. He tells her this with his mind, with the way he yields control of the kiss to her without a second’s hesitation, with the way he presses them together sternum-to-stomach as though even a hint of space between them is too far. More than yearning, he thinks, and she realizes she has been pushing her own thoughts back to him unintentionally.

“Enough,” she says in the gasp separating one kiss from the next. He steals another peck before awaiting her judgment. He is hot all over, so close, his breath, his chest, his straining cock. She’s doing this to him. It’s all for her, and she’s weak. She wants him again like she’s had him before. Like no one has ever—

She stops that seed of thought before it can grow wild. She says, “Undress me.”

It takes only a moment for him to pick out the knot of her corset and loosen the lacing. The straps of her dress droop down her shoulders.

“Anything else?” he asks, a faint smirk crossing his bitten lips. Too lucid. She’s going to undo him.

Yen smiles back despite herself. “You’ll put yourself to good use. On your knees, Witcher.”

He kisses the corner of her mouth one last time, lingering, and says, “As m’lady wishes.”

Her retort is lost somewhere in her throat when he begins tracing a slow path down her body with hands and mouth, following the dress as he guides it down. Gods, he knows how to touch her—knows where to bite to send sparks up her spine, knows that her right breast is much more sensitive than the left, knows that fingertips swept down her side will toe the line between enticing and ticklish. Her dress puddles to the ground at last when he lowers himself to kneeling and puts his teeth to her hipbone, lightly, before nuzzling at the rise of her belly.

Only her smallclothes are left now. “Well? Finish the job,” she orders, voice thin and higher-pitched but thankfully even. He hooks two fingers in the waistband, tugs, and leaves her bare. She steps out of the pile of clothing, kicking it to the side.

He looks up at her with widened pupils, trusting. Her Geralt. For he is hers, isn’t he? He treats her as if she’s the answer he’s always sought; she knows he’d do anything she wanted at the barest suggestion. She’s tested those limits, and not even the godsforsaken unicorn shook him. Is that truly him, or simply the wish? How can she ever know?

Not the time. Not with him waiting on the floor where she’d put him, and her naked in the drafty air.

“Light the fire,” she tells him.

He forms Igni at the dying hearth, which catches in a blaze. She spreads her legs, runs her fingers over the backs of his scarred hands to urge them under the curve of her ass.

“Brace me,” she says, and his grip tightens to take her weight. “You’re not to let go.”

He stares up at her, taking her commands in stride, patient even though he’s still untouched. Even though he must smell her arousal. In his position even an unenhanced man would be able to tell how slick she’s gotten.

The stream of his thoughts continues to flow thick with want but otherwise remains calm and steady. She’d like to see how long he can wait before the current turns turbulent. How long he can await instruction without moving a muscle, and all the while she gets wetter until her cunt threatens to drip on the rug.

Geralt’s chin bumps the inside of her thigh. “You’re testing me,” he rumbles.

“Yes, quite,” replies Yennefer. To up the ante, she reaches down and circles her clit slowly. When she presses harder, she moans softly at the relief. He watches the movement, jaw tensing, before flicking his gaze back to her face.

“Is this a punishment?”

“Perhaps.” Her breath hitches and she fights to keep still as she teases herself, just this side of not what she really needs. She aches to get it but can’t give in yet. “What do you want, Geralt? Do you want to taste me?”

He nods.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“Good boy, remembering your manners.” She rocks into her touch just a little, slipping two fingers inside herself before she removes her hand. “Open up.” When he obediently parts his lips, she withdraws her fingers and places them on his tongue, pressing down. “Clean them for me, Witcher, and maybe you can have more.”

He groans as he sucks the wetness from her skin, his eyes dropping shut as if he could get drunk on her. She gathers another fistful of his hair, cards it back out of his face. Holds it tight.

She sends him a question. What would you do for me?

Geralt shifts on the floor, his breeches taut over his cock and thighs when he leans back on his heels. A damp spot spreads near his waistband—already, the needy bastard. She’s barely begun.

What would you let me do to you?

It takes a few moments and even then a flurry of vivid images is his only answer. She takes them to mean Everything.

Her fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and she cups his cheek, tugging on his hair. He chases after them—so easy. So easy to have him like this, but only for her. Only with her does he stop checking his blind spots. Gods, she could burst from the disappointment of living in a reality that would keep her from him. Of a destiny that would force them together.

“Yen,” he starts, voice like gravel. “Here? Wouldn’t you rather we—”

“Don’t presume to know what I would rather,” she snaps, and grips him under the chin. “We do this my way or no way at all.”

He quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t argue.

She says, “I’ll tell you what I would rather. I’d rather come on your face and then leave you here as a toy for my personal use. I could immobilize you, but I wouldn’t have to. You’d stay right here on your knees until I told you otherwise. Tell me you would.”

“I would,” he rasps.

“I’d leave you hard and unsatisfied, drooling with how much you want it. Like a dog for a bone. I’d go over to my bed and get a full night of peaceful sleep, and you would have to stay here and hope I’d come back in the morning to take mercy on you.”

“Yen, fuck.”

“Should I, Geralt? Do you deserve my mercy?”

Reaching out with her magic, trailing it over his nipples and down his abdomen under his clothes, she finally wraps it around the base of his cock. He inhales sharply but does not reply.

She leans more fully into his support, spreads her legs as wide as she can manage to open herself to him.

“Don’t take all night,” she says, releasing his chin and urging him forward by the back of the head.

He buries his nose into dark hair, lips kissing along her vulva and the crease of her thighs. Building anticipation that doesn’t need to be built. She’s already clenching around nothing from his proximity, from the way she can feel his hips pushing against the tight hold of her magic for some semblance of friction. At last he goes where she wants him, licking broadly up her cunt. She bites her lip as he flicks his tongue over her clit. Swears when he sucks, and lifts herself towards the wet heat of his mouth.

His fingers flex and dig into her the skin of her ass. If he had his way, she knows he’d have them inside her by now. He loves to rub over that spot that makes her eyes roll back while he works her clit with his mouth, bringing her to ruin inside and out. One time he had lain her out and made her come over and over again on his mouth and fingers until she could no longer tell how many hours had passed. Gods, she’d nearly screamed for him that day. She had let him get her there. She’d wanted to.

Without the use of his fingers, Geralt makes do. His mind simmers with frustration and determination and need.

Yen eases the phantom touch up his shaft as he licks down toward her entrance, and his teeth catch against her on his gasp. She can’t quiet the whine that tumbles out of her throat. “You like that, don’t you?” He makes his way back to her clit, circles it with just the right pressure. “You like—oh—you like feeling my magic on your cock. I bet you want more. I bet you’d beg for it after long enough, with my taste on your lips and nothing in return.”

He pulls her tighter to his face, and she yanks on his hair to make him groan. At the same time, she forms the magic into a fist around him. It begins stroking him at a moderate pace, not how he wants it, quick and hard and now, but enough to keep him on the edge of desperate. It squeezes around the head how she’s seen him do to himself—how she has done to him—and he pauses his work to pant harshly against her skin.

When he stops, so does the magic. He growls.

“Now you know the rules,” Yen says breathlessly. “I come, then you come. Not before.”

“Fucking—” he curses quietly, hips rutting uselessly into the stilled touch. He settles for biting down on her inner thigh. Her legs tremble.

With renewed vigor he licks into her once more, doing away with technique and strategy. He centers his energy on her clit, clearly not aiming for anything other than to make her fall apart above him—her shoulders curve in and her mouth falls open on a cry.

“Yes, like that. Good boy,” she tells him again when he lets off enough for her to find the words. “Can you do that while I ride you? Hold still for me?”

He makes eye contact with her, irises nearly swallowed by pupil. Nods.

“Perfect,” she whispers, and grinds her cunt into his face.

He meets her rhythm with some guiding from the hand still in his hair, alternating his flicks from his tongue with firm suction that shoots sparks through her nerves. By the gods, she’s not going to last long. He knows her too well, knows how to put himself where she needs him most. The higher he sends her the more of her weight he must support, until it’s nearly only him holding her up to his mouth while she shakes and fucks herself on him with rolling hips.

The magic on his cock speeds as she ascends; she can feel the tension climbing through his muscles with the effort to hold back. A flick of her wrist sends the touch to engulf him as if he is sunk deep in a warm throat. He moans, and one of his hands slaps against her ass.

“Careful, just—almost—”

She thrusts forward and he sucks hard and she comes, convulsing in his grip, keeping him there by his hair while he works her through it. Until he must be running out of air, even with the mutations, and his eyelids flutter with the effort. The throat around him tightens, swallows.

Yen says, chest heaving, “Go on, Geralt. You can come now.”

He does, his forehead pressed snug into the soft give of her stomach, breathing her name so quiet that she might not hear it.

She combs her fingers through his hair and stands fully on her own, though her legs are still weak and her spine aches. The pins in her hair are poking at her scalp, so she pulls them out and tosses them on the vanity on her way to the bed, stepping over the discarded dress. It can be hung in the wardrobe in the morning.

Yennefer has one knee on the mattress before she realizes Geralt is still where she left him on the rug by the fire, gazing after her with a question in his eyes, like she might actually leave him there in his soaking breeches to be used at her whim.

Maybe next time.

She throws back the blankets and pats the space beside her. “Are you joining me or not, Witcher?”

He grins.

#my fic #the witcher #the witcher fic #yenralt #geralt x yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #lmao i tried to edit the post last night and broke it and i just decided to post it today instead bc it was a weird time anyway #writing 2600 words of pwp took like 2 years off my life <3

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

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Chapter 5: Yours, Mine and Ours

Mark Tuan X Reader

Final chapter of the “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” series

Genre: So much sweet, cheesy, adorable, heartwarming fluff (and quite a bit of horny ass Mark) (Some sexual content but nothing too crazy...I think)

Word count: 23K (Of course I had to go all out for the last chapter guys good luck)

A/N: Here’s the finale! The last chapter for our favorite couple. God, I can’t fathom just how sad I am that it’s actually over. I genuinely loved writing this story and I feel as though it has helped me progress in my writing (although there is a lot of repetition and parts that don’t make sense, I love how the entire series came out. Thank you so much for all of your love and support for this specific work of mines. I was so overwhelmed with how much positive comments I’ve received for this story in particular. (Dude when am I going to find me a man like the Mark I write in this story I’m going to die single and alone hahaha). Anyways, I feel as though I could have wrote this one much better because it is the last chapter but who cares! I just wanted to put it out for you guys and I’m so excited to be starting a new series. Happy reading everyone. Who knows, I might just end up writing a couple of one shots based on this couple some time in the future.

“I don’t get it, why am I here? Don’t get me wrong Y/n, you’re like a sister to me and I would do anything for you—but out of all of our friends, why did you choose me to come wedding dress shopping with you? I saw on Instagram that the guys are out at the arcade; your fiancé literally put on one tux and called it a day. This is the fifteenth dress you put on and it doesn’t seem like we’re going to be finished anytime soon. Isn’t this something you do with both his and your mothers? Or your girlfriends—“

You rolled your eyes at the older boy’s numerous complaints and made your way back in to the dressing room to put on the next gown. Mark had proposed to you over a month ago and out of the many wonderful memories you’ve made together so far in your relationship—that night had to be the best night of your entire life.

“Will you do the amazing honor and continue to make me the happiest man on earth by marrying me?”

There were so many different thoughts running through your mind—how long has he been planning this for? How long has he had the ring for? What made him choose this night in particular to ask you such a life changing question? Did anyone else know what his plans were? Watching him look up at you with nervousness yet adoration in his eyes made your heart flutter.

You’ve had the incredible opportunity to see Mark get all shy and flustered whenever it came to you for so many years now and he’d only get more timid as the two of you got older. He might have been a very outgoing and outspoken person; as a leader of multiple sports teams, he would always have to be upfront and command others to do things. However, you were the only person that he would submit to—well, any time other than when it came to the bedroom.

Your boyfriend was completely captivated by you and in his eyes, every little thing you did was magic. You already knew your answer; you’ve known your answer even before you could comprehend what it meant to get married. As kids, you and Mark would play house; he was the husband and you were the wife. Most boys hated playing house and it was obviously because they found the game boring and considerably “girly”. Mark on the other hand enjoyed doing anything domestic with you and he confessed once that he enjoyed playing house with you so much because he’d get a taste of what your future together would be like.

At the prime age of eleven and honestly—even before then, you’ve dreamt about marrying Mark. If only your five-year-old self could see how far the two of you have come. What you and Mark had was rare; people would always tell the two of you that you were “too young to know what love was” and that your relationship was just “puppy love”. You wondered how the people who doubted your relationship would feel if they knew that your boyfriend of fifteen years was currently on bended knee, asking for you to spend the rest of your life with him.

You brought one hand down in to his hair while cupping his cheek with the other hand. He immediately leaned in to your palm and hid his face against your thigh; you had a feeling he assumed your sudden skin ship was a bad sign with the way he was preventing himself from looking up at you.

“Look at me.”

He shook his head in disagreement—probably because he was extremely nervous for your response, but you reached for his chin and lifted it up so that he was making direct eye contact with you.

“Mark Yi-En Tuan, it would be my honor to marry you baby. God I sound so formal—but I want nothing more than to finally be called Mrs.Tuan. I can’t—I can’t fathom how happy I am right now nor can I even find the words to describe how much I love you, with every fiber of my being and how happy I am to be the lucky girl who gets to love you and is loved by you. You mean everything to me Mark—you are my everything and I can’t wait to walk down the aisle and set our love in stone. I love you so fucking much I can’t even express it in to words. You’re otherworldly my love. I’m so fucking excited.”

You sank down to your knees and allowed him to place the ring on your finger to which he clumsily missed a couple of times because he was too busy staring at you with so much excitement and adoration. Before he could say anything, you brought his face in between your hands and roughly smashed your lips against him. He smiled gently in to the kiss; humming contently while melding your lips together. In all your many years of being in love with him for, this had to be the happiest you’ve ever been; you were completely over the moon.

He lowered his hands down to your waist and gripped on your hips all but gently while bringing you on to his lap. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes; the desire to be as close in proximity with each other as physically possible was seeping through your veins. You wanted him to feel just how thrilled you were to finally become one with your boyfriend.

Once you felt his excitement through his sweats graze against your thigh, your cheeks were flushed with pink. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited at the idea of celebrating your engagement—you couldn’t get your hands off of the devastatingly handsome man sitting in front of you. As soon as he pulled away to catch his breath, you let out a soft whimper; earning yourself the most adorable high pitched laugh that never failed to make your heart flutter.

“When did you—how did you—wait, babe, did you tell my parents? Does anybody know?” He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment while looking everywhere around your shared bedroom but at you.

“I uh—the guys know—um, but I didn’t get around to telling anyone else. I was meaning to do it, but I wanted to ask for their blessing to marry you in person. Since we don’t plan on going back home for another two months, I made a plan to act as if I had yet to ask you and see what they thought about it—that’s if you said yes. But let’s be honest baby, you were going to say yes to me even if I proposed with a ring pop.”

You scoffed playfully at his words before shoving him. A part of you was actually quite nervous to hear how your parents would react to Mark asking for your hand in marriage—even if your parents loved the older boy and knew that the two of you were destined to spend the rest of your lives together, you were both still so young.

Hell, you were both in college working shitty ass jobs; you knew your mom wanted you to be financially stable before making the choice to get married and start a family. But all of that didn’t matter right now. All you cared about was the fact that Mark was just so excited to marry you that he couldn’t wait to ask—no matter how much he might have been going against your parent’s wishes.

“Wait, Mark—the ring. It’s so beautiful—honestly, it’s so perfect. But I’m sure it must have costed you a fortune. You know I would’ve been content with one of those rings you get from cereal boxes—“

He covered your mouth in attempts to keep you quiet and placed a sloppy kiss on your jaw. This man was honestly all you could ever need for the rest of your life—Mark Tuan in more or less words had to be the most imperfect perfect human being that you’ve ever met.

“You know you deserve the entire world and more. I’m marrying you for that specific reason—I’m going to give you everything you deserve baby. My girl deserves nothing but the best. Damnit y/n, look at how soft you’ve made me—oh I mean, you make me really fucking hard a lot of the time—99.9% of the time, but I’m such a lovesick fool for you and I love it. I would do anything and everything for you. You should know that by now. I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t the cheapest thing I’ve purchased, but I’ve been saving up money since the time we were in elementary school. I’ve known from the beginning that I was going to marry you one day, so twelve-year-old me started up a piggy bank and put every single dollar I got—from my allowance to birthday and Christmas money in that jar. I missed out on the PS4 because I wanted to buy you the ring of your dreams baby and trust me—seeing that beautiful smile of yours right now, it was so worth it. However, if you want to show me your gratitude by sucking me dry or even buying me the ps5 if you’re feeling generous, be my guest.”

Tears began to brim at your eyelids as you listened to him talk about how he wanted to provide you with nothing but your hearts desires even at such a young age. Most boys at the age of ten don’t even think about marriage nor was anyone in a relationship other than you and your boyfriend. What did you do to deserve such a golden-hearted, selfless, loving, caring and generous man to call your fiancé? God, you were never going to get tired of calling him your fiancé.

“We don’t have to get married just yet if you’re not ready. I’m sure you want to finish college first or at least until we can actually afford a decent wedding but if I’m being honest with you baby, I don’t care where we get married. We can go to fly to Vegas tomorrow and get hitched if that’s what you want. I don’t care if we have hundreds of guests or only ten people there—I don’t care if we have flower arrangements or a ten-tiered cake. All I need is for you to meet me at the altar. But I’ll do whatever you want me to do—I’ll take our engagement at whatever pace you want to. However, I’m taking our love making session tonight at my pace—I hope you’re ready.”

You felt your cheeks warm up as you remembered how Mark took you up against almost every surface in your apartment right after the proposal. He wasted no time practically ripping your clothes off and worshipping your body in the most erotic way.

Although sex wasn’t the most important aspect in your relationship, it had to be in the top five of your favorite things you did with Mark along with cuddling, going grocery shopping, baking something together that you’d see on Cake Boss and going to bed in his arms. But it was more than just reaching an orgasm and feeling the delicious stretch his cock would bring to your pussy—sex was extremely intimate.

No matter how rough, dominant and animalistic Mark could get during every single love making session, he’d find himself whispering multiple love confessions in your ear while intertwining your hands together and kissing you all around your face and body.

As you put on the next dress, you found yourself not able to take your eyes off of it once the employee came in to help you zip it up. To say this dress was beautiful had to be an understatement—it was everything you could ever dream of in a wedding dress. You didn’t care if it was cliche; ever since you were a little girl and watched every single Disney princess movie there was, your dream was to get married in a princess gown; one made of tulle and took up most of your walking space.

The top was a v-cut and showed off just enough cleavage that didn’t reveal too much yet could still be considered exceedingly sexy. You began to tear up—even if you and Mark both agreed that the two of you wouldn’t rush with the wedding arrangements and that you both wanted to focus on finishing school before getting married, you were still so excited getting to look around for dresses, accessories and anything that had to do with the wedding.

“I obviously chose you for a reason BamBam. You have an eye and taste for fashion that none of the other guys possess. Don’t worry, I’ll treat you out to lunch right after we’re finished. We can go anywhere you want to go. By the way, I um—I was actually going to ask if you wanted to be my man of honor. I don’t really have any friends other than the five of you and my fiancé. I was going to ask my sister to be my maid of honor, but she volunteered to be the photographer. If you don’t want to or if you’re against that idea, I can choose someone else—“

“Don’t you dare—that spot is rightfully mine! I’ve always known I was your favorite and I don’t blame you, I’m pretty amazing. Now hurry up and let me see the next dress!”

You let out a soft chuckle and took one more look in the mirror; smiling at how the dress fit you perfectly—as if it was made for you specifically. Right as you walked outside, BamBam’s eyes widened in shock while his jaw dropped. If this was his reaction, you couldn’t wait to see Mark’s—that’s if you decided to go with this dress.

His expression made it obvious that the dress was one that he must have liked; he never said much about the other fifteen dresses you tried on so far. Either that or he just really wanted to hurry up and go get some lunch.

“Y/n—you look beautiful. Like an actual princess. Mark is a very lucky guy. Wow—I can’t stop looking at you, you’re glowing. Wait, I value my life—I didn’t say anything. You heard nothing.”

Your laughter filled the waiting area that the two of you were occupying at the moment; knowing Mark’s jealous and territorial tendencies, BamBam did not want to face his wrath if he were to find out what the younger boy said about you—even if it was all in good fun. Being the youngest, both BamBam and Yugyeom found themselves doing things they knew would get under Mark’s skin just because they found entertainment in driving their eldest friend crazy.

However, all the boys knew not to do anything to or with you that was crossing any boundaries; they would never hear the end of it. One time, the naive boy who was currently accompanying you jokingly intertwined your hands together while you all went out to eat dinner and you found yourself going along with it to get a rise out of Mark. Your fiancé tried his best to conceal his jealousy; even if everyone knew just how protective and extremely territorial Mark was when it came to you, he didn’t want to make it obvious that he was bitter over your interactions with his friends or rather—their interactions with you.

Mark didn’t say anything out loud about what he thought of the skin ship between you and BamBam, but you could tell he was upset when he bought ice cream for everyone but BamBam. He also confronted you for your playful and flirtatious behavior back at your shared apartment which led to extremely kinky and passionate sex—he wanted to take out his irritation and jealousy out on you while ramming himself deep inside of your tight pussy. You weren’t going to lie, a jealous Mark was a rough and dominant Mark—anytime he showed that he was jealous or felt intimidated by another man it just solidified that he was afraid to lose you and that he loved you so much, he hated the idea of someone else taking you away from him.

No matter how many years the two of you have been together, how many memories you’ve shared with each other or how many times on a daily basis that you remind him exactly how much you love him and only him—that didn’t stop him from thinking negatively but it was only because you meant the entire world to him.

Sometimes he’d gaze at you while you were asleep and thanked whatever power it was that put the two of you together because God knows he would be nothing if he didn’t have you.

“Thank you BamBam. I think—I think this is the dress. I can’t stop smiling, I love how it looks and feels on me and I love how I feel wearing it. Should I keep looking around or should I put it on hold?” He stood up and walked over to where you were standing in front of the mirrors and helped you fix the dress before gently squeezing your cheek.

“This is the one. You said so yourself, this dress is your dress—I think you look unfathomably stunning and I know Mark’s going to both cry like the emotional ass we all know him to be and get hard as a rock—I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up starting your family on the night of your honeymoon—ow! I’m being serious, we all know how horny the two of you are I’m surprised you don’t already have children—I hope you know I plan on ringing up your bill to pay for the abuse I’m receiving. Oh, and I plan on getting tipsy, so be prepared.” You scoffed sarcastically before giving him a teasing smirk.

“I can’t wait until it’s your turn to go through something like this—“ He shook his head in disagreement before you could even finish your sentence.

“I don’t see myself getting married if I’m being honest. Unless I find someone who looks at me like the sun shines out of my ass the way your fiancé always looks at you and loves me the way you and Mark do with each other, then I plan on staying single for the rest of my life. The two of you are really lucky to have found one another. I don’t know if he’s ever told you this nor do I know if I should be admitting this to you right now so please do us both a favor and keep this between the two of us—but Mark told Yugyeom and I that he would give up every single person in his life—everyone—our friends and even his family just to have you in his life forever. He claimed that he could live without any one of us which I found extremely rude, but he made it completely aware that he needs you. You’re like his lifeline or some sappy shit like that. Honestly, I think you and Mark were made for each other. You’re so cute together it’s disgusting.”

He let out a chuckle when he saw tears forming as he continued his heartfelt speech—but it was the truth. The two of you have know each other for almost the entirety of your lives. Everything you did, everywhere you went—so did Mark and neither of you would have it any other way. Right after you went back inside of the dressing room and changed in to your clothes, you went up to the receptionist and put the gown on hold.

The two of you made your way to BamBam’s favorite restaurant—one that was extremely fancy and renowned, which also meant expensive; but it didn’t matter. He did you a huge favor by coming with you today, the least you could do was treat him to a meal. BamBam wasn’t wrong when he confirmed the fact that he was your favorite out of all Mark’s friends. Each boy held a special place in your heart, they all treated you like you were a member of their family—but your relationship with BamBam was just a little more tight knit.

Lunch was filled with laughter, playful banter and him nonchalantly hinting towards wanting to be a godfather to one of your kids when you and Mark actually did start having children—he also snuck you some wine and a couple of mojitos when the waiters weren’t paying attention which led you on the path of inebriation. Mark sent you a few text messages hinting towards wanting you to come home as soon as possible because he missed you and wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon just lazing around on the couch together.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a lightweight and that you were completely all there mentally because you were the complete opposite of mentally stable. BamBam knew he made a mistake of allowing you to drink as soon as you began laughing at nothing. You never really drank; especially because you were still underage and didn’t believe in breaking the law, but there were a couple times when the guys would come over with a couple of beers or wine coolers and you’d find yourself drinking one or two every now and then.

It never got you drunk enough to the state you were in right now and BamBam could only hope you would sober up once you got back to your apartment or else he would get in trouble with your fiancé. Watching you drink more than you should have actually sobered BamBam up pretty quickly so he was able to drive you home. The car ride went faster than expected but it was probably because alcohol slowed down your thinking. For all you knew, he was driving for over half an hour but it felt like five minutes as he pulled up to your building.

“Let me know when you get upstairs and tell Mark I said hello. Have a nice evening y/n, I’ll see you next week!”

You didn’t know how you did it, but you walked up three flights of stairs without stumbling. Sure, you weren’t completely drunk, but walking seemed like the hardest thing to do right now. Once you finally made it up to your unit and walked inside, you placed your things on the counter and smiled softly to yourself when you saw Mark sitting on the couch.

“Hey baby! I’ve missed you, how was dress shopping?”

He was currently shirtless and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants; a very lethal combination especially because he’s been working out a lot more these days. You could feel warmth building up in your core at the sight of him—he was so attractive and it’s as if the alcohol heightened your senses—you wanted to pounce on him.

“It was good—I um—I actually found a dress I really like—how about you? BamBam was um—complaining that you um—arcade—“

Slowly and hesitantly, you sauntered towards the couch and found your place on top of his lap. You didn’t know why you were now extremely horny—well, you were always in the mood for sex with Mark, but normally it took a little of sexual tension and flirting to get to that point. What exactly was in those drinks that BamBam gave you?

“Baby.”

You looked up at him with your glossy eyes and Mark knew in his gut that you were drunk. The way you kept repeat the word um and your body movements confirmed his suspicions and he was mentally cursing BamBam for allowing his sweet, innocent—well, innocent when it comes to following the rules—fiancée to drink alcohol—especially in an environment where you both could have gotten in trouble if you were caught.

He wasn’t going to lie though, drunken sex with you was on the top of his list of the many kinks he had. From what a few of his teammates would tell him, drunk sex had to be the best mind of sex next to make up sex and reunited sex. By the way you were grinding all but gently against his pelvis, he had a feeling you were just as turned on as he now was and he had no intentions of stopping you.

“Be honest with me, you drank alcohol didn’t you?” You didn’t even hesitate in nodding your head and he let out a snarky little chuckle at your eagerness before grabbing your ass and massaging both cheeks.

“Mhm—“

Since he was completely aware of your insobriety—you found no point in continuing to pretend that you weren’t tipsy and began to leave sloppy kisses along the juncture of his neck while running your finger along his hardened abs. It didn’t take long for you to feel his hard on press firmly against your clothed entrance and it only motivated you to quicken your pace.

“You are so sexy Mark—fuck—“

Hearing a moan fall from his pretty lips led you to roughly smashing your mouth against his. BamBam had a point; how were you not a mother yet? You and Mark could never keep your eyes nor your hands off of each other, no matter how tired you and your fiancé were after you came home from work and school, you both always seemed to have enough energy to relish in your love together.

“Have you seen yourself? You look so fucking good y/n I don’t know why I even allowed you to leave this morning. I know I told you this outfit was so cute on you earlier but I just know it will look cuter on the floor—ah shit.”

You secretly slipped your hand inside of his pants and palmed him through his underwear; grabbing and squeezing on his cock through the soft fabric. His dick was stiff at this point and you could feel your mouth water at the thought of blowing him. He let out a whimper as you got off of his lap and was right about to complain until he saw you lower yourself with your face just inches away from his penis.

“I plan on sucking you dry—then I’m going to bounce on this cock and I want you to fuck me from behind. Am I clear?”

Mark’s eyes widened in shock at your command; normally, he was the dominant one in bed with you occasionally taking the lead whenever you felt like it but it was extremely rare to hear you tell him what you wanted him to do to you and honestly—your dominance drove him insane. He nodded profusely; wanting to show you how much of an animalistic and lewd effect you were having on him.

The two have dabbled in drunken sex before, but it was always your boyfriend who had a little too much to drink. You never really drank to the point where your mind wasn’t all completely there before and Mark was more than excited to see how dirty and naughty things were going to get between the two of you. If you were already being so forceful and commanding, he couldn’t imagine how much more dominant you were going to be. To Mark’s dismay, your movements were slow—too slow for his liking.

“Y/n, please—“ You looked up at him and feigned innocence.

“Please what baby?” The glare he sent you, knowing exactly what he was asking for sent chills down your spine. He let out a growl from the back of his throat and all but gently pulled at your hair.

“Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to fuck the living shit out of you and I’m all for a dominant y/n, but if you don’t hurry up and shove my dick down your throat I will make it my responsibility to make you immobile for the rest of this week. Am I clear?”

You rolled your eyes at his words; scoffing quietly at his mimicking, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. You began rubbing your thighs together to enforce any kind of friction against your throbbing core. The coil in your stomach began to twist the longer you continued to tease him; dragging your fingers painfully slow against his throbbing veins and fondling his balls.

Whenever you were either swallowing him whole or giving him a hand job, you would receive just as much; if not more pleasure from watching his facial expressions and hearing his breathless moans. It never failed to rile you up and get you extremely turned on. He hissed when he realized what you were doing—as much as he loved it whenever you would tease and mess around with him—play with him and drive him to the brink of insanity, he was not having it right now.

He’s been thinking about you the entire day; some thoughts were cute and romantic, but most thoughts were dirty and naughty; most of the thoughts were the different kind of positions he wanted the two of you to experiment with.

“Y/n, please—do anything, I’ll be a good boy, I promise—ah—ah—shit!”

You did both you and your fiancé a favor by finally pulling his underwear down to his knees before grabbing his cock at the base and grazing your thumb along his slit. Bringing your index finger up to his tip, you swiped off some of his precum and brought it in your mouth; sucking your finger clean of him.

“Shit—shit, you’re so fucking hot.“

Anytime Mark complimented you; no matter what it was about or referred to, your stomach would fill with butterflies. You didn’t know what you liked hearing more—him telling you that you were the most beautiful goddess to walk this earth or that you were the sexiest woman he’s ever laid his eyes on and that his favorite place to be was in between your thighs. You licked a stripe along his hardened cock, running your hands along his length and leaving a sloppy kiss on this tip before finally taking him in to your mouth completely.

He let out a loud, wanton moan at the feeling of your warm mouth encompassed around his cock—bringing him as far down your throat as you could without gagging. You wasted no time bobbing your head up and down—moaning against his girth every time you felt his tip touch the back of your throat.

His reactions—the many praises—erotic grunts—dirty words—they only made you want to go faster. You hollowed your cheeks, trying to keep your mouth as tight as possible to give him an immense amount of pleasure against his length while you continued humming softly at every tap of his cock against your uvula. His grip on your hair was tight; he yanked and pulled every time you sucked a little too hard. However, you were well aware by the sinful noises falling from his lips that he was really enjoying this—as he did every single time you found yourself on your knees.

Switching back and forth from his dick to his balls, you could tell Mark was close—he had a tendency of tensing up at the endless amount of pleasure you were generously giving to him. Unlike a lot of horror stories you’ve heard about or read online, you genuinely enjoyed giving your boyfriend head. It might have been just the tiniest amount of painful, but hearing and seeing the effect you had on him made the pain worth it.

“Damnit—I didn’t want to come just yet—fuck—“

His warm, creamy liquid was shooting in squirts against your tongue and you swallowed it up entirely before releasing him with a loud pop. You placed a soft kiss against his tip before making your way back up to him.

“God, I can’t even—give me a second would you?”

Your laughter filled the room at the sight of how visibly exhausted he looked; it wasn’t something you weren’t used to though. No matter what it was the two of you did together during your love making sessions, whether it was sucking the life of him, bouncing on him like a rabbit or letting him take you from behind, Mark was notorious for never being able to last long. In the beginning, he was embarrassed that he could reach an orgasm in less than ten minutes, but the longer the two of you would experiment in location, positions, with toys and just taking turns with who would be the dominant one and who would be the submissive one for the night—he realized that there was nothing wrong with the fact that he could cum in a matter of minutes. In fact, he was proud to say that you were just so good to him he couldn’t contain his excitement or his load for that matter.

“I know I say this a lot, but you’re actually going to be the death of me you know that? Come to think of it though, I wouldn’t mind having the cause of my death being sex or particularly getting a heart attack while your pretty mouth is wrapped around my cock or while I’m in the middle of railing the shit out of you. However, I’m very adamant on spending the rest of my life with you—but I’m not complaining. Getting my dick sucked by such a professional is a dream—your mouth is as beautiful as it is so fucking naughty.”

He pulled you up to him and stole a sweet kiss from your lips—gliding his tongue along your bottom lip all but gently. His teeth clashed against yours as he melded his mouth at an angle that was easier to kiss you in. To his dismay, you pulled away to get a better look at him and playfully pinched his cheek.

“You’re an idiot you know that?” He rolled his eyes at your insult before squeezing both of your butt cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But I’m your idiot and you love me.”

“That I do.”

He beamed up at you before flipping you on top of the bed and hovering over you. His lips found your neck and he began to attack your nape with sloppy kisses.

“Let me return the favor.”

He was about to make his way down to your entrance which he knew was probably soaking at this point when he noticed you shaking your head in disagreement. This shocked him; you were just as much a fan of receiving head as you were of giving—but he wasn’t going to question it. Were you already worn out? He felt bad; you took such amazing care of him and literally blew his mind—it was only natural for him to want to give you that same experience.

“As much as I want your pretty little tongue slurping against my folds while you bury your long, skinny fingers inside of me, I want something else to fill me up. Having you in my mouth only made me want you deep inside of my cunt baby. You can eat me out later. Now—now I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

The growl that came from the back of his throat went straight to your core—if you weren’t already wet, you would be drenched here pretty soon. He pinned you to the bed and smashed his lips against yours. He gave you no warning as he yanked your blouse off—nearly tearing it at the bottom; earning himself a glare that he simply laughed off.

“I’ve bought you many outfits after ruining them—this time is no different. I just need to see you bare—naked and writhing just for me. I want you—all of you y/n and I can’t help myself—fuck—I’m very blessed to have the honor in seeing your tits every single day but I’m never mentally prepared for what the sight does to me and my overbearing hormones.”

One by one, both his and your clothing items were scattered throughout your room; his mouth encompassed one of your breasts—licking and sucking on your nipple, bringing it in between his teeth while massaging your other breast with his free hand.

“Such a beautiful, beautiful girl with such pretty—pretty titties. My perfect little baby. I’m going to wreck you my love—that’s a promise.”

For hours, you and Mark loved on each other’s bodies—going down on one another, dry humping him and allowing your juices to seep down his leg, riding his cock while he hid his face in between the valley of your breasts, allowing him to take you up against almost every single surface in your apartment, letting him fuck you on all fours while he roughly shoved your face in to the pillows and finally ending in missionary so that he could chant many love confessions while sinking himself in and out of your tight walls.

Once the two of you both tapped out from exhaustion, he started to run you a bath and prepared your things; a pair of clean underwear, your blow dryer and one of his oversized shirts that practically swallowed you whole. He carefully picked you up bridal style and joked about how you should get used to being carried like that since it was likely that the two of you would be tying the knot pretty soon.

Your fiancé took his place inside of the bathtub and brought you down with him; leaning against the tub and allowing you to get comfortable while he grabbed your shampoo bottle and lathered some of it inside of your hair.

“If I knew how fucking amazing that was going to be, I would have given you alcohol a long time ago. You’re so fucking horny when you’re drunk. You’re also a lot rougher and lewd—I think you’re a lot more libidinous when you’re tipsy and I fucking love it. I’m getting you drunk at least once a week—I think that’s why you literally sucked me dry of all that I have.” You giggled softly before reaching for his hand and placing gentle kisses on each fingertip.

“Baby, look at me.”

You did as you were told and turned around to face him; giving him the softest and most adorable smile he was sure he’s ever seen. There was no way you were real; you were too damn perfect to be real. You had to be a figment of his imagination; yet here you were. Skin on skin; kissing him feather-lightly, running your fingers through his hair, tracing his features and looking at him with so much love and adoration to the point where he was sure he could melt in to a puddle. You hummed in curiosity and brushed back some of his hair while giving him your undying attention.

“I can’t wait to finally marry you. I’m 100% sure our wedding day is going to be the best day of my entire life—especially our wedding night. I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up pregnant the week after—ow! I’m being serious!”

“We literally just had sex for over four hours yet you’re still so horny—you’re a work of art you know that?”

“Well I mean—look at you. You’re an otherworldly goddess, it’s only natural for my dick to be hard 24/7. You’re constantly on my mind at all hours of the day, and in my wet dreams--fine—I’ll be more romantic—I’m serious though, I’ve been wanting to marry you as soon as I understood what marriage was. I can’t even describe how happy you make me—I know I tell you all the time but I don’t think that it’s enough. It’ll never be enough. From what I’ve heard from my aunts, uncles and even my parents, marriage can be rough sometimes. Both partners have to put in the same amount of effort to make a marriage work and I get that. But I also think that when you really—truly and genuinely love your person—then you can get over any obstacle. We’ve had many disagreements in the past and we’re both stubborn as hell, but I’d like to think our little disputes and moments spent apart only strengthen the love we have for each other. I wouldn’t want to go through this life with anyone else but you. I’m telling you—God made you for me and me for you and I pray to him every single night, thanking him for giving me the--my greatest blessing. You.”

You were in tears at this point and playfully began to hit at his chest for making you emotional, but each word did wonders to your heart. He was right; he confessed such heartfelt words to you every single day, but each time he did so, it’s as if he grew more and more sentimental as the days went on.

“I’m going to have to get professional assistance in writing my vows; there’s no way I’ll be able to top whatever it is that you have in mind to tell me. You’re already such a poet during intimate times when it’s just you and I alone, what more when we’re in front of all our families and friends, confessing your true feelings for me on the day we finally become one—in a legal sense but technically in a spiritual sense too. Damnit Mark Tuan—I hope you know that I expect you to be sweet like this even when we’re in our eighties and I’m all old, wrinkly and can barely move around without a cane.” He laughed against your shoulder blade and pressed a gentle kiss there while running his hands along your arms.

“Trust me babe, I only get cheesier as I get older. My love grows for you the longer we’re together for. I don’t care if your boobs sag to your knees or if your arm fat sinks to your elbows, I just know you will still be the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on and I will remind you every single day until my last breath.”

The two of you sat in the tub for half an hour more; helping the other clean up while sharing fleeting kisses, words of love and adoration, cheeky little touches here and there—mainly the cause of your fiancé and just promises for the future. After you both decided it was time to get out, he grabbed your towel and started wiping you down; drying your hair as much as he could before moving on to himself. You put on the clothes he gave you and began your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth and putting on moisturizer before heading back in to your room.

Mark came out not too long after and plugged in the hair dryer; motioning for you to sit on his lap in order to help you dry your hair. He ran his fingers through your wet locks gently as he moved the blow dryer all around, putting it on the lowest setting so it wasn’t too hot against your scalp. It was the little things like this; doing something for you that you could do by yourself in order to help you out and making sure that you were comfortable and relaxed while he was doing it. Small gestures like these only proved his irrevocable love for you.

“Thank you Mark.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before motioning for you to get off of his lap—but he gave you no time to do anything before pulling you tightly against his body and wrapping his arms around your lower back.

“Of course babe. I love doing these things for you. I’m sure I wore you out, so it’s the least I can do. But I genuinely enjoy being able to do such domestic things for you. I love taking care of you, it’s like my second nature. Now, let’s get you to bed—we have to be up early to pick my parents up from the airport tomorrow. I don’t need my dad giving me snarky looks if he sees you limping. They can stay at a hotel y/n—it’s fine. I’ll pay for it. I don’t think they will appreciate hearing the noises we’ll make nor am I willing to give up your pussy for an entire week so—hit me one more time and we’re going another round don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As the months went by, you and Mark only grew closer and closer if it were even possible. There were the occasional arguments here and there—him leaving the toilet seat up when you would always nag at him to put it down, you leaving your dishes in the sink instead of washing them right after you were done using them, him being a little too loud as he played his video games and you leaving the light on while you were studying in the middle of the night—there were even situations where Mark would sleep on the couch because you refused to sleep in the same bed as him.

Sometimes you would sit and think that maybe you rushed in to the engagement a little too soon; you might have known with your entire soul that Mark Tuan was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with, but the stress that came from planning a wedding only added fuel to the already intense fire. However, your fiancé was very good with giving up his pride and apologizing first.

Although, if you just so happened to have started the argument or were the cause of why he was angry, then he wouldn’t take the full blame and instead admit where he was wrong in the situation while mentioning what you could do differently too. Mark wasn’t the type to give you flowers to show that he was sorry; flowers were meant for happy, celebratory or intimate moments. Normally after a fight, he would write you a letter and buy you some of your favorite food—one time he even got you a cake that said sorry on it because he was truly sorry.

He would also show how apologetic he was with his head between your thighs; having you pull on his hair as he got you to sing for him with his teeth nibbling on your clit and his tongue lapping up the juices along your folds. It broke your heart whenever he’d question if you still wanted to marry him—but you knew it was a habit of his to feel insecure whenever the two of you would argue.

Almost twelve years of a relationship and your fiancé still questioned his position in your life every now and then. It made you feel as though you weren’t as verbal or physical as you should be with professing your love to him. There was nothing you could really do other than to reassure him that yes—you still wanted to marry him. Even during times where you gave each other the silent treatment or the cold shoulder, you still wanted to marry him.

Arguments, disputes, yelling at each other to the top of your lungs, not being able to look at him because you were so upset—they weren’t going to change the way you felt about Mark. You would rather fight with him than to be happy with someone else. When Mark was in his last semester of college, he received a letter that you were sure could change his life forever.

One day while he was at work, you went to check the mail. Nothing ever really came in other than bills for doctor’s visits, letters from both your parents, postcards from Jinyoung while he was studying abroad in France and care packages from Jaebeom filled with snacks from Korea. However, there was an envelope addressed to him from the major league baseball association.

Automatically, you found yourself running back to your apartment in order to send Mark multiple text messages about what you discovered. He hadn’t text back immediately and you understood it was because he was at work, but you couldn’t contain your excitement. You might not know exactly what was waiting in that envelope—for all you knew it could have just been a regular subscription to a magazine or something but you couldn’t help feeling as if it was something more than that.

You came to the decision that you would clean up around the house to take your mind off of the glee that was building deep inside of your chest. You also felt the need to cook some of Mark’s favorite food just in case there was a need for celebration. Anyone who knew of your fiancé were well aware that he loved baseball. Mark ate, breathed and slept sports; specifically, baseball.

He preferred football, but right after Jackson got a concussion in their sophomore year, you talked him in to dropping the sport in the fear of him getting badly hurt. He dropped all the other sports and focused solely on baseball. Mark was talented, there was no doubt about it. Everything he put his heart in to—he was such a talented baseball player and that alone was an understatement. Not only was he undoubtedly an all-around player; an amazing catcher, pitcher, hitter and shortstop, but he put in extra time and effort perfecting his performance.

If the letter was what you hoped and believed it was, then you were over the moon for him. When he finally arrived to your shared apartment a few minutes after 8, you flung yourself at him and waved the envelope in front of him.

“Open it, open it, open it—“ You pouted against his lips as soon as he connected them with yours but allowed him to deepen the kiss.

“Mark—“

“Hello to you too. I know you’re probably dying to know what the letter says, but I’ve been dying to have you in my arms all day so let me have five minutes to really take you all in and change before we get to opening it okay?”

You released a soft sigh but nodded in agreement before intertwining your fingers together and leading him over to the couch. He sat down and pulled you on top of his lap—wrapping his arms around your waist out of habit and placing a soft kiss against your bare shoulder blade.

“Tell me about your day my love.”

“Well, I finally turned in that paper that was driving me to the brink of insanity and I’m going to sit in agony for the rest of the week waiting for my professor to give me my grade. BamBam called me about going with him and Yugyeom to pick out a gift for his mom’s birthday this weekend, work was work—boring as usual. Then I come home to this letter and now you’re preventing me from getting to read it—“

“Does it really mean that much to you? I think you’re more excited than I am babe—“

“It does and I am. So can I open it?” He laughed at your enthusiasm—you were always so relentless whenever it came to something like this; so Mark was well aware there was no point in trying to prolong the situation.

“Fine, go ahead. I wish you were this enthusiastic about sex—“

“Mark—babe—oh my God—they want you—THE MLB WANTS YOU! Look, look!”

You practically shoved the letter in his face before getting off of his lap and bouncing around like a little kid on Christmas. He was right; it wasn’t even you who was being given the offer, yet here you were, running all around your living room like a maniac.

Watching and supporting him at every single practice and game he attended since the beginning of his high school career—seeing his eyes light up every time he won a game—being nominated as team captain for every sport he played, you were just so happy for him. Whenever something wonderful happened to either of you, the other one just so happened to be just as delighted—this time was no different.

This was something huge—out of the millions of aspiring baseball players you were sure spent just as much time practicing and putting in work in the hopes of becoming a professional baseball player, your boyfriend was one of the lucky ones who was contacted rather than contacting them. That meant they must’ve been watching him his entire baseball career.

His grades were impeccable—it honestly astounded you how he did so well with school while working full time and going to practice for hours on end. Mark was an otherworldly being—there was no way he was human. He was too good to be true. When you took a look at him, he had a blank stare on his handsome face.

Usually you were really good at reading his facial expressions and you could tell what he was feeling by looking at his body movements, but right now—you had no idea what he could be thinking or what he was feeling and it worried you. Maybe this was his way of taking it all in; he wasn’t loud and overbearing the way you were whenever something good happened. He celebrated in silence, it’s just who he was. You made your way in between his legs; bringing one hand in to his hair while cupping his cheek with the other.

“Talk to me babe, what are you thinking?” He looked at you and gave you a soft smile before shrugging.

“I can’t—I can’t believe this. This is so cool—I’ve been wanting this since I was a little kid. I’ve been watching baseball for years and every time the Dodgers had a game, I told my parents that I wanted to be a professional baseball player. Not once in my entire life would I ever have thought I’d be given an offer, this is crazy.”

You smiled at his words; even if he didn’t say anything, you were sure this had to be a big deal to him. He brought his baseball bat with him everywhere when you were kids. He’d also always wear a baseball cap even against your pleas when you’d go on your dates back in middle school. Baseball was in his blood and he was going to be able to have a career that he actually would enjoy.

“So, how are you supposed to accept the offer? Do you call them? Email them? Should we go to the stadium tomorrow—“

“I won’t be accepting the offer.”

Your eyes widened at shock at his sudden revelation. Did he just say he had no intentions on getting back to them? Was he crazy? Being awake for almost 24 hours had to be the reason behind his confession. There was no way he was going to give up such an indescribable opportunity. You were sure if Jackson were to receive the same letter, he’d be jumping at the chance and he would have the same reaction you currently had.

“Mark, you can’t be serious. Maybe you should think about this a little longer. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. This is your dream babe, what if you end up regretting your decision down the line—“

“I’m already living out my dream baby. You are my dream. I’m months—maybe even weeks away from marrying the woman of my dreams. I’m a few months away from graduation and I already have a couple of job offers lined up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful that they would even consider me and I just know everyone’s going to be disappointed with my decision, but think about it y/n. Training is a solid year, and what if I end up playing for a team outside of California? What if Denver wants me, or Nevada, or Oregon—“

“Then I’ll follow you wherever it is babe. Don’t give up because you’re afraid of us being apart. We’re older now, we’re wiser and we know the sacrifices we have to make in order to be happy together. I will go wherever it is that they want you to go. I don’t care if we end up going somewhere boring like Idaho, I’ll be right there by your side—your number one fan like always; shouting your name and cheering you on from the stands. Don’t worry about me or our future together—I—we’ll be perfectly fine. I just want you to be happy Mark.” He gave you a toothy grin before pulling you back on to his lap and left a peck on your cheek.

“God, I really am the luckiest man in the entire world. You’re so wonderful y/n. I—I love you so fucking much. Thank you—your endless support means everything to me—you—you mean everything to me. But my mind is already made up. I’m thinking about the long run; MLB isn’t the same as college or high school baseball. Contracts get messy—and when we start having kids, what if they have me switching teams and we have to move again? I couldn’t do that to them. What if you get a job in California that you end up loving only to find out that we have to pick up and move again? This isn’t just my future we’re talking about—it’s yours, ours together and our family’s when we finally start having kids. Plus, I don’t want to end up hating the sport of something bad happens. The last eight years have been amazing, but I don’t think I want to be physically overworked anymore. I want to enjoy life—not spend every moment worrying about taking the team to victory. Baseball is extremely competitive; I don’t think I want to put up with all that unnecessary bullshit. I know it’s upsetting to hear, but just know I won’t regret a thing, okay?”

Hearing his explanation as to why he didn’t want to take up the offer made a lot of sense. You couldn’t force him to do something he didn’t want to, especially when he had his many reasons as to why he wouldn’t want to spend another five to ten years being told what to do by coaches who probably couldn’t care less about him other than the money he’d make for them. You hid your face in the crook of his neck; breathing in the scent of his cologne and leaving a few wet kisses against his collarbones. “I support every decision you make. I trust you Mark—I know you’re doing what you think is best for everybody—damnit, I wish you would do something for yourself for once, but maybe this is for you in disguise. Why don’t you go take a quick shower and I’ll make you something to eat?” He hummed contently against your cheek and pulled you down with him on the couch; allowing you to hover over him while placing his hands not so innocently on your butt.

“That would be nice, but let me hold you for a little while please? I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you—“ you playfully shoved his shoulder as your cheeks warmed up hearing how whipped he was for you.

“You saw me this morning clingy—“

“Yeah, but that was this morning. I feel like we hardly ever see each other these days. I can’t wait to finally graduate, we’ll have much more time to spend together. More time in positions like this—with less clothing—or none at all really.”

His laughter made your heart flutter and you found yourself laughing along with him. For someone who was 23-years-old, his laugh was so high pitched—it never seemed to change and that was one thing you were glad about staying the same.

The next few months came and went within a blink of an eye. Nothing really big happened other than attending your fiancé’s last few college baseball games and searching for wedding venue, but like Mark had mentioned before, he wanted the both of you to be ready—free of stress before you finally got married.

On his last day of school, the two of you along with Jackson, BamBam and Yugyeom went out to a bar in celebration of Mark and Jackson’s last few days before heading in to the real world. The three older boys teased you about how they hand plans on taking Mark to a strip club and that’s when you retaliated with the idea that you were going to ban them from the wedding.

It was in times like these—laughing about your past together and remembering all the good memories that seemed so far away now that made you sad about how fast time flies by. Although Mark’s group of friends who were considerably family to you claimed that they would make sure to keep in touch with you and your soon-to be husband. BamBam even hinted towards moving in with the two of you once you were to buy a house to which Mark was quick to shut him down.

This was the fourth graduation of his that you had the honor of attending and just like the last three ones, you found yourself crying tears of joy. Your boyfriend never failed to make you so proud; he always wanted to be the best he could be—even if it meant staying up to study, staying back an extra hour at practice to work on his pitching and taking on extra credit. Mark was a firm believer in regretting the chances he didn’t take, so he made the most of every single endeavor he took on.

When Mark broke the news to his family about not accepting the offer to become a professional baseball player, they weren’t too pleased. They witnessed how much of an amazing athlete your fiancé was, he had to be crazy not to accept something so big like becoming a professional baseball player. However, after Mark explained himself, his family were a little more understanding. Sure, it all sounded good on paper, but then again, what if things didn’t end up the way he assumed that they would?

What if scandals were made up about him or even about you since he would be somewhat in the limelight? A part of him began to grow curious about what could actually happen if he were to sign a contract with the league, but he was sure things could get messy if he were to try and leave before his contract ended.

Unlike Mark’s family, his friends didn’t take the news lightly; especially Jackson. The younger boy was very vocal about how much of a mistake he believed his older friend was making. Ever since the first time they met, both Mark and Jackson had dreams to make it to the big league.

Unfortunately, Jackson focused solely on the athletic aspect and not on his grades, so recruiters immediately decided that he wasn’t who they were looking for, even if he was just as amazing player as Mark was. Your fiancé was patient with Jackson; taking each and every jab, listening to each and every complaint—but he did grow frustrated after a while. What did no one understand about making decisions for other people in your life, not just yourself.

Jackson wasn’t a selfish person—well, he did care about himself quite a bit, but that’s because he worked extremely hard to get to where he was. However, he didn’t have anyone to worry about the way Mark had you. It really didn’t matter to him what anyone had to say anymore, you were supportive of his decision and your opinion was the only one that mattered to him.

“Congratulations baby, I’m so proud of you. You never cease to amaze me you know that?” He gave you his signature award winning smile and allowed you to give him the multiple leis you both made and bought for him before pulling you in for a brief, chaste kiss.

“I mean, you remind me at least three times a day, but I don’t mind hearing you say it again.”

You cupped both of his cheeks with your hands and grazed your thumbs gently just below his eyes. Like always, you and Mark were in your own little worlds, smiling adoringly at one another, holding each other protectively, stealing wet kisses—you both gave no attention to anyone around you. Neither of you knew just how long you stayed like that; just basking happily in the other’s presence, it’s as though you were caught in a trance that none of you could break out of.

If it was your choice, you’d take your fiancé home and order a bunch of his favorite foods in celebration of his huge milestone, but you didn’t want to be rude and have him all to yourself before the rest of his friends and family could come and congratulate him.

“I would tell the two of you to get a room, but there’s really no point. I just know you both are the type to make out in church—freaky asses. You’re getting condoms from me for your wedding gift.”

You playfully shoved Yugyeom and rolled your eyes at the sound of the three other guys bursting out in laughter at his immature comment. Yeah, nothing’s changed at all.

“Wow, we’re all getting old guys. The two oldest of all of us are college graduates and we’re not far behind what the fuck? Time needs to slow the hell down, there’s still so many college parties I have yet to attend.” The five of you continued to stay and talk for a few minutes until Jackson finally came over to join in on all the madness.

“Shit dude, we’re fucking college graduates, can you believe it?”

The two of them did their handshake they’ve been doing from the time they were kids before pulling each other in for a hug. Looking at all five of them, you wish you could freeze this specific moment in time. You remembered how much it sucked when they all went away for college, especially because most of your best high school memories were because of them.

Now you were all going your separate ways again—even if you knew you were all going to stay friends for the long run and that you would make plans to meet each other again every so often, it wouldn’t be the same. You could only hope the next chapter in your life and in Mark’s was going to make up for all the change that you could have done without.

“I still won’t forgive you for not taking on the offer, you could have made it big dude and I could have used you as leverage for getting promotions and shit, but I guess I can see why you said no. Your pussy must be magical y/n—ow!”

“She was just as upset with my decision as you were, but I have another person I have to include in my future plans Jacks, this isn’t just my life or my future we’re talking about. It’s hers too and I’m going to do whatever I can to make her life easier, even if it means making such huge sacrifices that others might not agree with. I don’t mean to get all sappy, but all my decisions that I make are with y/n in mind. What is best for her—for us as a couple. What will keep her safe, happy, healthy—I care about her well-being and her happiness more than I do my own. I hope one day you’ll be able to experience a similar kind of love and then maybe you’ll be able to see why I did what I’m deciding to do.”

You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his; squeezing them ever so softly while bringing his hand up to your lips and placing a soft kiss against his wrist. Hearing Mark explain to you that he did not want to join the MLB because of how difficult it would be having to move around so much and then hearing him tell his friends that he cared about making decisions based on what he felt would benefit you brought you to the brink of tears.

That man really did love you, there was no other explanation for his selflessness. You wanted to feel bad that he gave up such a once in a lifetime opportunity that so many other guys his age would have accepted in a heartbeat specifically because he didn’t want to put you under the stress of being a spouse of a professional athlete—but you knew if you were in Mark’s position, you would have his same mindset. You cared more about him than you did yourself—so you completely recognized the idea that all he really wanted was to have you by his side at all times. What was the point of having your dream job if your dream person was thousands of miles away?

“Well—when you put it like that—nah I still think you’re dumb as hell but that’s only because I know I will never find anyone who could love me even half as much as you and y/n love each other. God made you specifically for the other and I just want to know, GOD WHEN IS IT GOING TO BE MY TURN?”

You all burst out laughing at Jackson’s complaining but you did find his words very heartwarming. It always intrigued you whenever someone would describe your relationship with Mark from their point of view. It’s as though everyone had the same opinion—you were two peas in a pod—best friends who had the amazing honor of becoming lovers and were seemingly so obsessed with each other.

“Okay, let’s get drunk at y/n and Mark’s place so we don’t have to worry about getting kicked out of a bar for falling asleep—“

“Hey, what if y/n and I already had plans? You guys can’t just invite yourselves over without our permission—“

“Oh we all know you’re going to fuck once you get home. You have the rest of your lives to have sex you nymphomaniacs, spend some time with us before we all start settling down and no longer are able to anymore.”

Just like everything else in your life, the time seemed to go by faster than you would have wanted it to. Mark decided to give himself the summer to relax and enjoy the last few moments as a recent college graduate before going on the hunt for a job in engineering.

Some days, you went to look around at wedding venues, flower shops and even catering companies because you were growing more and more serious about speeding up the date of the wedding. You were just so excited to finally marry the love of your life, neither of you seemed to care that you weren’t financially ready to pay for a wedding.

Other days were spent traveling all around New York, making the most of the last few months you had left there. You only had a semester and a half left of college left as although you were going to miss the fast paced and upbeat life in the big city, you were more than happy to finally return back to California.

Most days, Mark stuck on to you like glue; he always needed to be around you—holding you as you swept the floor, prepared lunch, hung the laundry or even as you took a shower, he desired to be in close proximity with you. The two of you hardly ever fought anymore—there was nothing really to argue about; even if there were a few things that he did that would get on your nerves and you knew there were things you did that probably got under his skin, you both learned to completely dismiss whatever it was that bothered you. It wasn’t worth getting mad over.

If something did seem to be the matter, your communication progressed and it was easier now to tell each other when you didn’t like one another’s habits. You ended up transferring to UCLA in your last semester when Mark received an offer in downtown Los Angeles to work at one of the biggest tech companies in the state of California and just the entire country in general. It didn’t bother you to have to transfer on such short notice, there wasn’t much you had to do to send over your information anyway.

Mark felt guilty knowing that you were sacrificing so much in order to be with him; attending college in New York when you could have just stayed with your family while waiting for him to graduate from college—waiting in multiple lines at the cashier’s and registrar’s offices to get the specific documents you needed for your transfer, having to pack up all of yours and Mark’s things in less than a week so that you would be able to fly back to Los Angeles in time for Mark’s orientation at his new job.

Not once did you complain about having to do any of these things for him nor did you ever disclose how exhausted you must have been, but that was just who you were. You did things for the older boy without hesitation because of the eternal love you held for him and because you knew he would have done the same for you in a heartbeat.

Little did you know, your sacrifices would pay off for the not so little surprise he had waiting for you back home. Leaving New York was bittersweet; you have developed fondness over the lively city; the night life was a lot more fun than California’s and it actually snowed—something you were genuinely going to miss.

The flight back went by faster than you expected; although, most of that time was spent with your face hidden in the crook of Mark’s neck as you slept most of the day away, tired from the last bit of packing that you did. Thankfully, Mark took care of everything else, dragging both your luggage and your carry-on along with pulling your lethargic body through the airport.

He also bought you some snacks for the plane ride that obviously went unopened, but you scarfed down as soon as the two of you landed and called yourselves a taxi. You were quick to pick up on the fact that Mark seemed excited about something; he was playing with his fingers as his leg began to jitter—he began taking a look at his phone every so often and you were too busy focusing on his now suspicious demeanor to realize that the driver was taking you down a road that you weren’t quite familiar with. He looked at you with a gentle smile and softly squeezed your hand while placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.”

No matter how many times he’s said that four letter word, your entire body would end up in flames every single time. You playfully pinched at his cheek and hid your face in the crook of his neck to hide the fact that his words were making you feel all warm and bubbly inside.

“I love you too.”

When the car came to a halt, that’s when you took a look outside and you furrowed your brows in confusion. Did the driver make a mistake? You were currently in front of a house you’ve never seen before; it was a beautiful house in a nice looking neighborhood, but it was unfamiliar to you. Where were the two of you exactly?

Mark didn’t give you a second to even let out a word—he made his way out of the car to pay the driver and thank him for the ride. He grabbed both your bags and headed towards the house without even looking to see if you were treading right behind him. He quickly opened the gate and continued to make his way to the front door and in the corner of your eye, you saw the names on the mailbox that brought you more curiosity.

“Mr. and Mrs.Tuan.”

“Babe! When did your parent’s get a new house?” He stopped in his tracks once he made his way up the three steps and turned around—sporting the biggest grin on his face.

“They didn’t. We did.”

Your eyes widened in shock at his sudden revelation. Was he serious? This house was yours? But how—when—

“I can feel you overthinking baby. Get over here and I’ll explain everything.”

You were feeling so many different emotions; excitement, confusion, elation—more positive feelings than negative, but you were soon overwhelmed with happiness and the desire to look around.

“This—this is our house?” He nodded happily before reaching for your hands and swinging them back and forth.

“Yeah. This is our house baby. I remember you going in to detail about the house of your dreams many times—there’s two floors, six bedrooms, three bathrooms, a dining room, a backyard and you even have a walk-in closet—“

You jumped on to your fiancé all the while wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and began leaving wet, fleeting kisses all along his jaw and the nape of his neck. He pulled you closer to his body and laughed softly at your multiple reactions.

“Wait, when did you do all of this—how can you afford this Mark? This is a house—I’m sure it costs at least half a million dollars—why—who—I can’t even speak right now—“

The sloppy kiss along with the cheeky squeeze against your butt stopped you from continuing to stutter—you were just that speechless and in awe at the thought of him pulling all kinds of strings in order to purchase the two of you a house.

Not just an ordinary house—the house you’ve been designing in your head and even on paper for longer than Mark could even remember. He placed you down so that he could give you a tour of your new estate and reached for your hand; pulling you in the direction of the kitchen. He was so excited to show you around; it boggled your mind that the place was fully furnished. Every piece of furniture matched so well with the colors of the walls; the fridge and cabinets were stocked with all of your favorite foods and snacks.

The bathrooms had such pretty curtains and towels; engraved with both your initials—it was so much more than you could have ever asked for. As he showed you every single room, you felt tears brim at your eyelids when talked about your future kids and how he purchased this specific house so that they were all going to have their own rooms once the two of you finally got around to expanding your family. You were well aware that the two of you were going to settle down one day soon and start having kids, but knowing that he made decisions based on what would be best for your children—it did wonders on your heart. Your fiancé was really the most considerate and remarkable human being you’ve ever met.

“The room downstairs is the guest room and I made it that way for a reason; BamBam and Yugyeom wouldn’t shut up about getting their own rooms here. I don’t know why I told them about this house; I’m genuinely shocked that they’ve actually kept this a secret from you. But then again, I did promise that I’d put aside a room for them. However, I said room, not rooms. Plus, I don’t want them complaining about not getting any sleep while they’re here—what? Why do you always look at me like that whenever I insinuate that we’re going to have sex? You act like you don’t have fun when we make love—your kinky ass always hints towards sucking my dick almost every day don’t act like you’re innocent. Now, to the last and the best room in the house; our room.”

He motioned for you to open the door all the while biting his lips nervously. The entire house so far was in more or less words perfect beyond belief, but you knew that he wanted this room to be your favorite. Right as you opened the doors, your jaw dropped—you were at a loss for words. The walls were a light blue shade—one of your favorite colors.

There was a queen size bed in the middle of the room and a couch right in front of it. There was a long mirror right next to the closet, two separate desks; one you assumed was yours and the other one being his, a vanity—the same vanity you’ve had your eyes on for months, a few pictures of the two of you scatted all across the walls and a night stand. Your mouth practically dropped to the floor in disbelief—you were still having such a hard time processing the idea that this house belonged to you and your soon-to-be husband.

“Wait baby—before you say anything, go check out the closet.”

You were a wreck at this point; the tears kept falling from your cheeks and Mark’s laughter echoed throughout the room. He’s done so many things for you in the last decade—things that were by far life changing and sometimes hard to wrap your mind around the idea that someone had the ability to love another person the way Mark irrevocably and profusely loved you.

But this—buying the two of you a house at the age of 24-years-old—a house that was one right out of the movies—one that a couple your age with jobs that the two of you had could only fantasize of having—this had to be the best thing he did for you so far and you felt in your chest that it would be hard to top. Once you opened the door to your closet, you gasped at just how spacious it was.

Sometimes you and Mark would watch house renovation shows in your free time and you’ve talked about wanting to have a walk-in closet. He made snide remarks about you having so many clothes that you never even used and how it would be best for you to have a space big enough to put all your clothes so you could actually see what you owned; but you would have never considered it to be this wide. You walked around and smiled slightly at how much of a dream this all felt—but the grip on your hips made it all the more real that you were going to live here.

“So, what do you think?”

You spun around and playfully thumped him on the forehead when he laughed at your emotional state before roughly smashing your lips against his. You were still trying to form the right words to explain exactly how you were feeling and how wonderful your fiancé was to even plan everything on his own. He deepened the kiss—humming contently as he felt you nibble on his tongue while smiling against his lips.

“I can’t even—God Mark—you—you’re so wonderful I can’t even fathom it in to words. I love it—I love it so much—this house is everything I could have wanted in a house and more—It’s perfect—almost as perfect as you—I still can’t believe it holy shit I’m so fucking happy—and I can’t wait to start living here with you—what did you do to get it? Did you sell a kidney or something—“

“You’re such a silly girl you know that? Babe, we all know I’m saving my kidney for you—I would only ever give my kidney to you. Hell, you can have my heart if you needed it—it’s yours anyway. But try not to need it right now, I kind of want to live as long as I possibly can to enjoy life with you. I might as well just tell you everything because you’re probably going crazy thinking about how I went about with this entire thing. I’ve been planning on getting us a house even before I proposed to you. I had to put a down payment of $20,000 which I took from scholarships and what I made at the coffee shop—my parents helped pay for the furniture and I’m currently taking a loan from the bank to pay for the first few months of mortgage until I can find an actual career. I know we were going to get a house sooner or later, but I wanted to surprise you. You’ve sacrificed so much for me—for us to be together. You were back and forth from California and New York—you left your family and everything familiar to you just to be with me. Then you left your last semester at NYU just to follow me back home—you never complained once about any sacrifice you made because of my decisions. You did everything in a heartbeat and I couldn’t come up with a way to show you or even tell you how grateful I am for you and how much you mean the entire world to me. I told you I’d take care of you didn’t I? I know it must be hard for you, so it was the least I could do. There’s so much more you deserve and so much more I want to do for you, but I was hoping a house would suffice for right now. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything else okay? I’m really glad you like it. I tried to get all the furniture you wanted, but we can go shopping maybe sometime this week if there’s something you want to return or replace—“ You shook your head in disagreement and placed a quick peck on the corner of his mouth while bringing one of your hands up to his hair and running your fingers through his soft, brown locks.

“Everything is perfect—I’m still in shock—really, everything is amazing. Thank you baby—thank you so much. You didn’t have to do this just yet though, I would’ve been content with a studio or a one bedroom apartment until we could actually afford something as amazing as this house—“

“Should I call the bank and tell them to cancel the loan—“

“Don’t you fucking dare Tuan I will end you.” The two of you erupted in laughter at your hostility as he picked you up and threw you on to the bed all but gently.

“I’m kidding baby. I know, I’ve actually thought about doing that—but then I thought about how excited you would have been—how you are right now when you were to actually see the house and I’m happy I decided to go along with purchasing it. Now that we got around to exploring the place, how about you and I break in the bed?”

Normally, you would roll your eyes at his suggestion, but you found yourself flipping your bodies over so that you were hovering on top of his lap. You began to grind your clothed core against his pelvis—earning yourself a breathy groan from the handsome boy as he brought his hands down to your ass.

“Do whatever you want with me Mark—tonight is all about you babe.” The growl that fell from the back of his throat went straight to your pussy and you found yourself biting your lip at the tight feeling in your lower stomach.

“Fuck—I just bought this bed—ah whatever, we can just get another one tomorrow. I’m going to wreck your pretty little cunt babe. If it’s any consolation—I pictured taking you up against every surface in this house after my parents sent me the photos. God y/n, I’m so fucking in love with you—but tonight I’m going to fuck you as if I despise the shit out of you.”

Mark landed a job at one of the most prestigious construction companies in California as a civil engineer. He genuinely enjoyed it; although it wasn’t the easiest job in the world, it paid well and the hours weren’t all too bad. He was also told by his manager that if he were to do well, he could get promoted in less than a year and there were many opportunities for him to become someone prominent in the company.

You were currently in your last semester of college and you were offered a teacher’s assistant position at the elementary school just ten minutes away from your house. You and Mark got to spend more time with each other now that your schedules no longer collided; most of your classes were online and he finished work at around 5 o’clock—so the two of you found yourselves trying out new recipes together that you’d see on the food network, driving all over California—watching movies at the theater, going to the arcade, grocery shopping and all kinds of other fun activities that neither of you used to have the time for.

Both your families would come over for dinner; and it was the first night that your parents came over did your fiancé break the news of the engagement to them. Just like they reacted when they first heard about your relationship back in middle school, they weren’t exactly surprised. You and Mark always made decisions before talking to anyone about your plans, but the two of you were old enough to make choices for yourselves. If your mom was upset, she didn’t show it nor did she say anything until after dinner—but she was genuinely so happy for you and couldn’t stop raving over how excited she was for the two of you to get married.

Your rowdy group of friends; specifically, Jackson and BamBam came over more times than Mark would have wanted them to. You were fine with the guys coming over to visit as much as they felt like, but Mark was very vocal about how he wanted to spend as much alone time with you before you were to settle in to your career and before your family of two turned in to three—four—five—or however many children you both decided on having one day.

“Just say you hate having us over because you can’t fuck with us around. I have no problem with that; free porn, plus y/n is sexy as hell. She gives porn stars a run for their money—“

“You’re banned from ever coming back here again Wang.”

You and Mark were just about done with wedding arrangements and you didn’t realize just how fast the days were going by. It wasn’t until you and Mark were cuddling in bed one night after you returned home from dinner with your sister did he remind you that your wedding was less than one week away. Since all the planning started over a year ago and you had pretty much everything set—your dress, his tux, your bridesmaid’s dresses, his groomsmen’s suits, a reservation to the hotel you were having your reception at, the cake, the flower pieces, the DJ, the centerpieces and receiving back all of the invitations with an RSVP from every single person you invited, you were both good to go. All you had to really worry about was messing up your makeup because you were positive you’d end up crying an ocean of tears. Literally.

“You’re going to be Mrs.Tuan in less than a week—are you excited? Because I know I am—I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle looking like the most ethereal goddess to walk this earth. We both know I’m going to cry—so just be ready for that. I can’t believe it’s almost here. I’ve been waiting fifteen years for this moment. I can’t wait to put the ring on your pretty little finger—and I’m even more excited for the honeymoon—“

“Of course you are, horndog. Sometimes I feel as though you’re only with me for the sex.” You giggled at his fake hurt reaction as he put his hand on his chest and gasped in disbelief.

“I’m with you because you’re the love of my life and because I’m so madly in love with you. The sex is just a bonus—an extremely great bonus.”

“You’re insatiable.” He beamed up at you and cupped your cheek in his palm; grazing his thumb right above your brow.

“And you love me for it.”

“I do. I really do.”

As much as you didn’t want the wedding to come just yet because you knew once it did arrive, it would go by so quickly and you just wanted to revel in it as much as you possibly could. The night before your wedding, Mark’s friends begged you to allow them to have a bachelor party to celebrate his last night as an unmarried man—and you actually allowed it.

He deserved to have fun; but under one condition—he had to allow you your fun too. Your sister alongside his two older sisters planned a bachelorette party for you. It was only you, your sister, his sisters and a few of your cousins, but you all had an amazing time. They all snuck you a few drinks here and there, you ate all of your favorite foods and danced along to some of your favorite songs.

They even surprised you with a few male strippers—but it was all in good fun. His sisters made sure to send him a few videos of you enjoying yourself—allowing one of the dancers to give you a lap dance and he would not stop calling all three of you once receiving the photos and videos. He claimed that the guys pulled the same stunt on him—Jackson, against your wishes ordered a few strippers to stop by their hotel room, but Mark did not let any of the strippers near him in fear of upsetting you.

You however, were having a great time knowing that he was probably growing angry with the idea of another man getting so close to you—in proximity that only he should be allowed to. It was selfish of you—but you loved seeing your fiancé get all riled up in jealousy—it was a huge turn on and you were excited for the punishment you knew you’d receive once you were both to return home.

“Y/n.” You looked up at Mark’s sister in curiosity at the sudden call of your name.

“I’m so excited to have you as a sister-in-law. My brother—he really loves you. I think we all knew this day was going to come since the day he came home with the biggest grin on his face, telling us that he made a friend at A+ and that she was such an amazing artist. Then I got to witness how bashful he’d get whenever someone would bring up your name in conversation. He even had me go shopping for rings with him to get a woman’s opinion on what would be the perfect ring. I’m sure a lot of people have told you this already, but the two of you were made for one another. I believe that wholeheartedly. Your love—the love you have for each other—it’s one to be envious of. You’re perfect for one another—the term soulmates isn’t even a good enough word to describe what you and Mark have. I wish you both nothing but happiness, health, wealth and success. Welcome to the family.” You wiped away a stray tear before pulling her in to a hug.

“Thank you Tammy. That’s so sweet of you to say. Your brother means everything to me and I can’t even tell you how much of a positive impact he’s had on my life. I’d be nothing without him. Truly nothing.”

You all continued to celebrate for one more hour until everyone felt that it would be best for you to get some rest before your big day. Your soon-to-be husband had other plans however. Once your sister dropped you off—Mark gave you no time to even put your bag down before he pressed you up against the door.

“Hmmm, someone missed me.” He attacked your neck with sloppy kisses and sucked all but gently right below your ear.

“I did—can’t say the same about you though. What a naughty girl. Did you have a nice time having a half-naked man grind himself against your lap—“

“Don’t act like the victim babe. I have social media too you know. Should’ve told BamBam to block me before uploading videos of you receiving a little dance of your own. Plus, it was your sister’s idea to get strippers. I had no clue that they were coming tonight—“

“I’m sure they came in more than one way with how lethal you look. Whatever—that doesn’t matter, I’m the one who gets to love on this beautiful body of yours. By the way, once I’m done rearranging your guts, I’m calling the both of them and uninviting them.”

He roughly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder; slapping both of your ass cheeks as he made his way to the bedroom. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t gleeful for what was to come. You loved it when Mark would remind you exactly who you belonged to.

“Wait, I know we’ve joked about someone having to push me in a wheel chair down the aisle but I swear to God Mark if I can’t walk tomorrow I’m filing for divorce.” He rolled his eyes at your comment before pinning you down to the bed and reconnecting his lips to your pressure point just above your collarbone.

“Fine—I’ll go easy on you tonight. I can’t say the same about tomorrow night though. Good luck with getting out of bed once during the entire honeymoon. Actually—spending an entire week with you indoors doing nothing but each other sounds perfect—“

“You’re getting papers on Monday.”

“Babe!” You laughed against his lips; he was always so gullible. You let out a soft moan when you felt his hands go in to your blouse as he dragged his nail along the valley of your breast; flicking at one of your nipples before cupping both of your mounds with his hands.

“Fuck it—who cares if you have to be pushed in a wheelchair—I need to ruin you.”

The entire night was spent showing each other just how excited you both were to be finally tying the knot. He spent a lot of time with his face in between your thighs, bringing you to heaven three times before you tapped out from exhaustion. You also rode him to the point where he had to physically lift you off of his cock or he was sure he would cum faster than he would like to.

The next morning, you woke up with a pleasurable pain in your legs, but it wasn’t unbearable. You were surprised when you woke up to an empty bed, but your question of where Mark could have been was soon answered when you smelled what you thought was pancakes coming from the kitchen.

After picking up his discarded shirt from the night before and putting it on, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen and found your fiancé wearing nothing but his boxers. The sight made your cheeks warm. You slowly made your way over to him and placed your chin against his shoulder blade—leaving a kiss there before bringing both hands around his bare abdomen.

“Good morning handsome. That smells good. What’s the special occasion? You never cook—“

“Hey, that’s not true. I cook all the time—“

“Instant ramen doesn’t count Mark.” He scoffed before turning to face you and gave you a peck on your nose.

“I’m going to remember that the next time you ask me to make you ramen. Today is a special day, I’m finally marrying my best friend. I just wanted to give you a glimpse of what married life is going to be like—for the first week. Don’t expect this on a weekly basis though. I know I love you more than life itself and I know I’d do anything you’d ask me to, but I cut the line at cooking.”

You hummed against his chest and held him for a few seconds before he released you from his embrace and asked for you to prepare the table. You both ate in silence; stealing glances from each other every now and then, but you were just basking in the other’s presence. Sometimes, you preferred staying in the peace and quiet with Mark. You were able to appreciate him better that way. Once you both were finished with breakfast, you stole a few kisses and got ready to head over to the hotel.

The entire drive was filled with so much laughter and fleeting kisses every time Mark pulled up to a stop light. It didn’t take too long to arrive and right as you both got out of the car, he lazily wrapped his arms around your lower waist and placed his chin on the top of your head.

“The next time we see each other, we’ll be exchanging our vows and making the most important promise to one another. I’ll see you soon baby. I love you y/n. I love you so much babe.”

With a few more kisses all over your face, he sent you on your way to your sister’s suite. Everyone in the room was so frantic; your mother looked as if she was about to throw up with how she was pacing all over the room.

“There you are! You’re almost twenty minutes late.” You apologized profusely; giving her the excuse that there was traffic, but your mother wasn’t born yesterday.

“You and Mark can go a few minutes without sucking each other’s faces off. Now go change in to your dress so that the makeup artist and hairdresser can start working on you. I think guests are already on their way.” Your sister gave you a knowing look and laughed softly to herself while you took the seat next to her.

“How are you feeling? I’m still having a hard time processing that you’re getting married before me, but we all knew Mark was going to propose sooner rather than later. I’m surprised the two of you didn’t get married right after high school. Everyone and their mother’s know how much the two of you are obsessed with each other and that is an understatement. I’m really happy for you y/n. You may be moments away from becoming a married woman, but you will always be my little sister. Never hesitate to come to me if and whenever you need me okay?”

She let out a giggle when she saw tears brimming at your eyelids and reached over to wipe them away. “If you’re already crying at my words, what more when Mark reads his vows?”

Hair and makeup took less than an hour and you couldn’t stop staring at yourself. You never really thought much about yourself. Sure, you thought you were decent looking, but you knew there were many more beautiful girls in the world you wished you could look like. Mark never let you talk negative about yourself though. The minute you said anything negative about yourself--he’d bring you to a mirror and point out every single thing about you that he loved, which was everything about you. Every freckle, birthmark, dimple, scar, curve--he loved it all.

But right now, you felt so beautiful. Everyone in the room began to cry; Mark’s mom, your mom, your sister and his sisters. They all raved about how gorgeous you looked. However, once you put on the dress, their compliments grew.

“You look like a princess y/n. You’re so pretty. Mark’s definitely going to cry, I’m so excited.”

You laughed at Grace’s comment and thanked everyone before walking over to your mom. Her makeup was ruined at this point, but she didn’t seem to care. She pulled you in to a hug and ran her fingers through your hair.

“Where did the time go? I still remember the day you finally told me about Mark after hiding him from me for months. Now you’re just a few minutes away from marrying him. You look stunning my baby girl; absolutely gorgeous. I’m so, so happy for you and I know you’re in great hands. I trust that Mark will take good care of you. That man loves you, I say that with so much confidence. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and he might not have wanted me to tell you this, but he actually called me up on your junior prom night right after you came home upset and he was sobbing. He begged me to make sure you would take care of yourself and that he was sorry for what he put you through. I know you love him just as much. I’ve never met two people who wholeheartedly belonged to each other the way you and Mark were destined to be together. Just remember, I don’t care that you’re going to be a married woman, you will always be my little girl. If anything ever happens, you can always come running to me baby. But I know Mark’s it for you, so I have nothing to worry about. I love you y/n. More than you will ever know sweetheart. Now, I think it’s time for you to get married. Shall we?”

Your heart felt as if it was going to jump out of your chest. The bridal party made their way down to the third floor and to your surprise, BamBam was waiting right outside the door. “The man of honor has arrived--oh my God--y/n--”

“Hey Bam. You look great!” He smiled bashfully and politely thanked you before looking at you up and down; his jaw dropped but he quickly closed his mouth before grabbing at one of your hands and bringing it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

“Wow--you look--wow, I’m a fucking genius. I knew this was the dress. You look so beautiful, you could honestly pass off as a Disney princess. Ah, I better stop looking at you or else I won’t hear the end of it from your soon-to-be husband. Now let’s go. As much as I want to say I can’t wait for the two of you to hurry up and get married, I’m fucking starving so the sooner you walk down the aisle, the sooner I get to stuff my face with crab legs and you won’t hear a word from me.”

BamBam could sense your nervousness, but deep down he believed it was more excitement than it was any kind of negative emotion. When you made it down to the chapel, you watched your cousins and Mark’s friends one by one make their way in to the room. You laughed when BamBam lined up next to one of your brothers and linked arms with him.

You heard your dad before you got the chance to see him. There was only two times you’ve ever seen him cry; once at your grandmother’s funeral and the second time during a fight that he had with your mom. Apparently their marriage was on the rocks at that time but you were too young to understand. It came as a shock to you when your sister told you about it when you were eighteen, but they both decided that it would be best for them to take couple’s reconciling classes in order to rekindle their marriage and their marriage only grew stronger after a few months. He released a long sigh before brushing away the many tears running down his face.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hi princess. You look so beautiful. Mark’s a very lucky guy. I still can’t believe my baby is getting married. You know, you’re still so young y/n. Marriage is a huge deal, it can wait--” You gave him a knowing smirk and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“I love him daddy and I know he loves me. I don’t think I can wait much longer to finally be his wife. Don’t worry, this doesn’t change anything. I’m only fifteen minutes away. I’m sure Mark would be fine letting me come and stay with you and mom every so often. I’ll always be daddy’s little girl and you will always be my favorite man.”

“You got that right. Are you ready darlin’?” You beamed up at him and nodded in agreement.

“More than I will ever be.”

“Then let’s do this.”

Watching everyone’s gave avert to you made your heart rate pick up and you didn’t even think that was physically possible. It was already beating a mile a second; but seeing everyone beaming at you while some of your relatives wiped away some tears made it all the more real--you were getting married.

Once your eyes landed on Mark; your breath hitched. He was the handsomest man you have ever laid your eyes on. You’ve known that for years now. You’ve seen him in suit and tie at least seven times, but something about how he looked right now--maybe it was because this was your wedding or because he got a haircut and his hair was pushed back with gel, showcasing even more of his handsome features made your stomach fill up with butterflies.

His eyes began to tear up and you giggled softly as he let the tears fall freely while he watched you walk closer and closer to the altar. The boys were making fun of him; mocking him silently, but you saw tears building up in both Jackson’s and Yugyeom’s eyes. You snickered softly to yourself before returning your attention back to your fiancé. As soon as you made eye contact with him and saw how much love and adoration he held in his eyes, you began to tear up yourself. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Mark and the pastor. Your dad’s grip on your wrist only tightened and you couldn’t stop the laugh that fell when the older man told him it was time to let you go.

“Take good care of my y/n Mark. I might really like you, but I won’t hesitate to slash your tires if you hurt my baby. Congratulations to the both of you.”

As your dad made his way towards your mom, Mark reached for your hands and intertwined them together with his.

“Hi.” He whispered softly; not taking his eyes off of you at all.

“Hi.”

“You look so beautiful my love. I can’t stop looking at you and I don’t think I will any time soon.” You grazed your thumb against his wrist as a way to calm down your racing heart and to nonverbally hint to him that he needed to stop with his heartfelt words or else you’d end up breaking down in front of everyone.

“Thank you. You look handsome as always.”

The two of you were too busy taking each other in to realize that everyone had been waiting for you both--even the pastor. It wasn’t till you heard him cough did you break out of your Mark induced haze.

“Hi there. It seems as though the two of you were off in your own little worlds for a second there but that’s totally fine. I don’t know either of you that well, but I can already tell by this interaction alone that you must have a love for the ages. Now, dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the union of Mark Yi-En Tuan and y/n y/m/n y/l/n.”

Everything the pastor was saying seemingly went through one ear and out the other. You and Mark could not stop making silly faces at each other and even if the older man noticed the two of you fooling around, he didn’t say anything.

“Now, for the vows, who would like to go first?” You looked up at Mark and gave him a knowing smirk.

“I will. Knowing you, you have a speech prepared that I won’t be able to match, so to prevent me from making a big fool out of myself, I volunteer to go first. Mark Tuan, there are not enough words in the English dictionary that can describe what I feel for you. Every moment spent with you--it’s like my entire body is on fire. I don’t know what I did to deserve you--I don’t know what world war I must have fought in my previous life, but I’d do it again and again if it meant having you as my person in every single lifetime. I love you with every breath that I take. I’m happiest when I’m with you. Hell, you’re the main reason for my happiness. There’s a quote--”Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” You and I, our love story is so rare. So special. Sure, there were times where I was afraid we weren’t to make it--but I was so afraid at the thought of losing you. I was going to do anything and everything in my power to make sure you and I stuck together. No matter what life throws at us, you and I are endgame baby. You’re my entire world Mark Tuan. You’ve changed my life in ways that I never thought was possible. You’re my best friend, my soulmate--the only man I have ever loved--sorry dad, you know what I mean.” Everyone, including the pastor laughed at your apology.

“I’ve loved you for more than half of my life and I plan on loving you for the entirety of it. Even when we’re old and wrinkly, fighting over oatmeal and cream of wheat. I don’t care what happens to us in the future; as long as I have you, I’m set for life. You are all I could ever want and need baby. Thank you for every single thing that you’ve done for me, I will never be able to thank you enough for your many sacrifices and simply just for loving me. But I will spend the rest of my life returning that same love. I love you, I love you, I love you and I’ll never get tired of saying that. Ever.”

Mark was in tears at the end of your speech--he was practically sobbing at this point and you had to stifle back a laugh for his sake. He was always such an emotional guy, but you loved that about him. You placed kisses on both of his cheeks earning yourself some boos from Jinyoung, Jackson and Yugeyom. He mouthed that he loved you and squeezed both your hands before starting his vows.

“Fifteen years ago, I was at A+, playing dominos with a few of my friends, when I noticed someone sitting in the far back of the cafeteria all by herself. I actually noticed you a few days before approaching you and I’ve never told you this before, but I was afraid that you’d tell me to go away. However, when I finally built the courage to approach you, I was mad at myself for not doing it sooner. You were such a bright, bubbly little girl and I found myself wanting to spend as much time with you as I possibly could. I loved being around you; I loved hearing your contagious laughter and being the reason behind it. Watching the passion you had for drawing; seeing the way your eyes lit up whenever someone complimented your art, it tugged on my heartstrings. Seeing you happy made me happy. I loved you before I even knew what love was. I think the first time I realized that I had more than friendly feelings for you was the day that I tripped and fell on the sidewalk, ultimately scraping my knee and you ran to your teacher, asking for a bandaid and helped me up before patching up my cut. You always did everything for me without a second thought. You moved thousands of miles from California in order to be with me. You’d stay up late no matter how exhausted you were just to talk to me. You missed out on parties, family gatherings and even vacations just to fly up to New York and be with me. I could ask you to do the most insane thing--bungee jump, sky dive, zip line or even to runaway with me and I know you’d do it in a heartbeat. Every time something good happens to me, you’re the first person I want to tell the good news to and if something bad happens, I want to run to you and have you hold me; telling me that everything is going to be okay. You deserve the entire world and so much more y/n and that’s what I plan on giving you. I’d go through hell and back--I’d run to the ends of the earth just to make you smile. I would do anything you’d ask me to, be whoever it is you want me to be, go wherever you want to do. My heart is yours. It’s always been and it always will be. My heartbeat increases whenever we’re together--but when we’re apart, it’s like i’m living but not existing. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I know I say this a lot, but I really don’t know what I would do without you. I need you y/n. You’re the reason why I wake up with such a huge grin on my face. You’re the reason for my entire existence. You’re my person and I am yours. Forever yours. I love you y/n, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You looked around and saw that there was not a dry eye at all in the crowd. Every single person, including those that you’ve never seen show any emotion was teary-eyed. You playfully smacked Mark before wiping away at your tears.

“You asshole. See what I meant. You always had such a way with words, I don’t know why I said anything at all.” He giggled profusely and so did everyone else at your comment.

“Do you Mark take y/n--”

“Yes.”

The pastor giggled at his eagerness, but didn’t correct him before attempting to ask you the same question.

“Okay. Do you y/n take Mark--”

“Yes.”

“Wow, this is the first time in my thirty years of being a pastor that I wasn’t able to finish my speech. The two of you are adorable. I wish you nothing in the best with your marriage and any future endeavors. Well, with the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife, you may now kiss the bride.”

Mark wasted no time bringing your face between his hands and smashing his lips against yours. They were salty and wet from the tears, yet the kiss was wonderful nonetheless. He continued to kiss you; ultimately bringing your bottom lip in between his teeth and sucking on it all but gently. As much as you wanted nothing more than to continue kissing your husband, you had to remember that you weren’t alone.

“Mr. and Mrs.Tuan would like to invite you all to the grand ballroom for dinner.” Mark tugged on your hand and led you down the aisle, this time--a newly married woman.

“Mrs.Tuan, I like the sound of that.” You smirked.

“I do too. It has a nice tone to it.”

The dinner went off without a hitch. Both BamBam and Jackson gave their best man and man of honor speeches; both making you cry as much as you did laugh. Everyone seemingly had a wonderful time; congratulating you and your husband all the while dancing to the upbeat music that the DJ played ad eating the amazing food the hotel had to offer.

Mark didn’t even hide the fact that he was turned on with how you looked. He kept commenting on how beautiful you looked, and how he couldn’t wait to take you upstairs and rip your dress off of you. When it was time for the first dance as a married couple, Mark pressed you tightly up against his body and wrapped his arms around you protectively while kissing your cheek and your forehead repeatedly.

“This feels like such a dream. You’re my wife--I will never get over calling you my wife. Nor will I ever get over how ethereal you look right now. God, tonight is genuinely the best night of my entire life. Nothing could ever prepare me for this moment. I hope you had just as a mind blowing day as I did. All I care about is how it was for you.” You stole a kiss from his lips before placing your head against his chest.

“It was perfect. Everything that involves you always turns out perfect. Thank you baby. I will never forget this day or how beautiful and loved you’ve made me feel. Now, as much as I love this dress and how I really want to make the most of tonight, I think it’s time you take it off of me. You’re not the only one who was suffering tonight babe. You look so damn sexy--”

“Yup, we’re going upstairs. I don’t even care if anyone picks up on what we’re going to do. I need you right now. Come on baby, it’s our first time making love as a married couple, we have no time to waste. Fuck, I can’t wait to have my way with you. I need you to know what your vows did to my heart--and my cock,”

Both BamBam and your husband were right; it came as no shock to you less than three weeks after your honeymoon when you found yourself hovering over the toilet, throwing up anything you consumed the night before. You assumed that it might have been food poisoning; Mark had a tendency to leave perishable food out for a while without telling you, so you just assumed that maybe the pasta he bought for you could have been spoiled. However, the nausea and sickness went on for the rest of that week and it only ever happened in the morning.

The two of you relished in your marriage every single day on your honeymoon. The day after your wedding, you headed over to the airport to prepare for your flight to Europe. You and Mark had a hard time deciding on where to spend your honeymoon. He wanted to go to Hawaii, and you wanted to go to Greece. You don’t remember how you both agreed on Italy, but you ended up really liking it.

In the morning, you would explore Italy and all of the beautiful architecture and delicious food the city had to offer. Once you arrived back in to your hotel room, neither of you could keep your hands off of each other. It’s as if getting married only caused the lust you had for each other to grow deeper. You went at it like rabbits--going rounds and rounds and only tapping out when you were both exhausted beyond belief.

You never kept track of your periods before; since you were on birth control, your period was very irregular. It came two to three times a month and then there were months that you didn’t even get your monthly gift. But you realized that it’s been quite some time since Mark went to the store and purchased you pads and a quart of ice cream.

It didn’t take you long to realize that there was a big possibility that you were pregnant. You didn’t want to tell your husband of your suspicions just yet; you didn’t want to get him too excited. Mark has been asking you to try for a baby the entirety of your honeymoon. You were just as excited to start having children as he adamantly was, but you wanted to graduate from college first before taking that huge step in your marriage. Plus, you wanted to enjoy married life even just for a couple of months before getting pregnant.

Pregnancy was a beautiful experience; this you knew was true from what you’ve heard from your mom, Tammy and Mark’s mom, but it was also very tiring, physically and mentally. Your body would change completely in the nine months of your pregnancy and you didn’t want your child to feel the stress you received from college while they were in your belly. You were also afraid of postpartum depression--the last thing you needed was to be afraid of hurting your baby before you could even really get the chance to spend time with them.

When Mark was away at work, you decided to head over to the grocery store and grab a few things; laundry detergent, grilled chicken, shampoo, conditioner, hangers and a couple of pregnancy tests. You ended up purchasing three; wanting to make sure your suspicions were true. A part of you was completely over the moon; sure, you weren’t quite ready to have a baby just yet, but if you were pregnant, you weren’t going to be too upset. In fact, the more Mark brought up starting a family, you found yourself wanting to give in to him.

Once you got home, you placed the groceries on the counter and made your way in to the guest bathroom; not wanting to wait another moment before finding out the news that could soon change your and your husband’s life forever. You peed on all three tests and placed them all on the counter. Waiting three minutes to hear the beep felt like hours. You began pacing back and forth across of the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to hurry up and get the results before you grew impatient. Finally, after a few moments, all three tests sounded off and as soon as you flipped all three over, you covered your mouth out of habit.

All three tests were positive. You were pregnant.

The smile that quickly rose on your face felt so natural. You were going to be a mother and Mark was going to be a father. It was hard to wrap your mind around; there was a fetus growing inside of you. You were going to be responsible for someone else other than your husband and yourself. As much as you were craving to tell Mark of the news, you decided to wait until he got home so you could celebrate together. However, you weren’t sure as to how you should go about with confessing the fact that in less than ten months, a baby that you made out of the intense and passionate love you had for each other would come out in to the world; in to your lives.

Being a very simple person, you placed all three tests on the counter in your bathroom and waited for his reaction to seeing them. Mark came home from work three hours later; you didn’t know what felt longer. Waiting for him to come home, or waiting for the tests to beep.

“Hey baby. How was your day?” You didn’t want to give anything away, so you just shrugged before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“It was okay. Better now that you’re here. How was yours?”

“Rough. I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m going to go change and then we can watch a movie or something. Why don’t we order take out? I’m sure you must be tired, so I don’t want you having to worry about anything else.” You nodded at his suggestion and he left a kiss on your forehead before making his way upstairs. You sat down on the couch, patiently waiting for him to finally head in to the bathroom and find the tests.

After almost ten minutes of sitting in agony, you heard him yell your name and before you could head upstairs, he came running down the steps; almost tripping on the rug.

“Y/n--baby--is this--are you--” You beamed up at him and nodded vehemently.

“Yes. You and I are going to be parents Mark.” He picked you up and spun you around; it was obvious that he was elated with the news. His excited reaction took a huge weight off of your shoulders, not that you were worried at all. You knew he’d be so joyful hearing that you were pregnant. He began kissing you all over your face; your cheeks, both your eyes, your nose, your chin and finally, your lips.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it. I’m so excited, me and my favorite person--my person--we’re having a baby. I’m so happy y/n! Shit, nine months though, that seems so far away. I want to meet them now. There’s so much we have to do. We have to start setting up the nursery, we have to call and tell our parents--wait, should we start saving for their college tuition--”

“Mark, we haven’t even started paying our own off. Slow your roll there baby. I know you’re excited, trust me, I was freaking out even when I came to the realization that I might be pregnant. Every time I’d see you with your nieces, I’d always picture how you’d be like with our own kids. You’re already such a wonderful uncle, what more as a father? I’m going to start having to see my gynecologist now and I’m going to warn you, I heard pregnant women can get pretty cranky, but I’ll try my best not to take all my anger and frustration on you.”

He placed one of his hands on the back of your head while running his other one over your stomach. “Ah, there’s a baby in this beautiful tummy of yours. That’s so crazy. I’m sorry babe, I know you’re going to suffer a lot, but don’t you dare for one second think that I’m not going to be here for you. I’m going to do everything you need me to do. You’re hungry for taco bell at 2 in the morning? I’m on it. You have cramps? I’ll make you a heating pad. You have a paper to write but you’re too tired to do it? I got your back. I will attend each and every single appointment that you have. If you think I’m already clingy right now, just wait and see what I’m like now that you’re pregnant. You’ll probably get tired of me, but I don’t care. I’m going to remind you at least ten times a day just how breathtakingly beautiful you are every single day and how thankful I am that you’re carrying our baby in your tummy. I know the process is going to be extremely exhausting and I want you to know that I wish I could carry the burden for you, I hate seeing you in pain. But you’ll never be alone in this you hear me? God, I’m so, so excited. I love you so much y/n. I don’t think I could ever tell you in words just how much. Words will never be enough. I can’t wait to start this journey with you. This is only the beginning for us baby.”

5 Years Later

“We’re home! Zachary? Mark? Babe where are you?”

You waddled in to your house with your eldest daughter Mia skipping blissfully right in front of you. The two of you had just returned from her parent teacher conference and to your surprise; it actually went really well—not that you expected otherwise.

The first thing she wanted to do as soon as her teacher told her that she was one of the top 3 students in her class, was to tell her daddy of the good news. From the time she was born, she and your husband were magnets; two peas in a pod.

It was obvious with the way Mark spoiled her even before you gave birth to her that she was going to be a daddy’s girl. You knew that she loved you—but it wasn’t as much as she loved Mark. She always chose her daddy in almost every situation; whether it was choosing between what you and Mark wanted to eat for dinner, who was the one to take her to the store, who picked her outfits for school and if you couldn’t agree on a movie, she would go with Mark’s choice.

When you received the notice that parent teacher conferences were coming up, you and Mark playfully argued over who was going to go with Mia. As much as you felt like the two of you should have gone together, one of you had to stay home to take care of your two-year-old son Zachary.

To your delight; Zachary was the definition of a mommy’s boy. In fact, he wasn’t too big a fan of Mark just yet. It did bother your husband seeing as how he wanted Zachary to be his little mini me—all he really desired as a father was to get him involved in sports and to have the young boy play some video games with him once he was able to hold the xbox controller with both hands—but the adorable little toddler refused any kind of affection from his dad nor did he let Mark do anything for him.

You joked around that it was because he saw the way Mark always had to have his hands on you and he took it as his dad trying to harm you or cause trouble towards you. Zachary was extremely protective and territorial whenever it came to you—it was a trait he took from your husband other than being a carbon copy of Mark. Knowing that Mark and Mia got along better, you used that as your excuse to force him to go, but then he counteracted with wanting to bond with your son and attempt to get the little boy to like him.

“Daddy, Zach—where are you guys?”

You placed your bag and keys on the counter and right as you were going to try and call out both their names one more time, Zachary came running naked in to the living room with a bunch of bubbles in his hair from which you assumed was shampoo and the sight made you giggle softly to yourself.

“Hi momma.” You looked down at him with a look of curiosity on your face but you were trying your best to stifle back a laugh.

“Hello my love. Why are you naked? and where’s your daddy—“

“Zach! Get back here bud, you’re not done with your bath—oh—hi—when did you guys get home?”

Mark’s clothes were soaking wet and he didn’t look too happy. He didn’t have to say anything; you knew he must have been helping Zach in the bathtub but the little boy was probably giving him a hard time.

“Mommy, please help me. Daddy doesn’t know what he’s doing—he didn’t put bubbles in the bathtub and he didn’t bring in my sea animals like you always do. He’s so boring mommy.”

You tried your best to lean down to his level; there was an obstruction making it hard for you to move around as much these days, but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. You placed a soft kiss on his cute little cheek before cupping his face in between your hands.

“Why don’t you go back in to the bathtub and mommy will be right up okay? I just have to talk to daddy and then I’ll go grab everything you need. How does that sound?” He gave you the most adorable toothless grin before carefully making his way back in to the bathroom. Mark walked over to where you were standing with his head down and shoulders slumped in embarrassment.

“How are you so good at this? That boy worships you and never stops talking about you. I mean—I know I do the exact same so I don’t blame him—but it’s like he hates me. I suck at being a father.”

He pulled you in to his embrace and placed a few kisses on your lips while hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You brought one hand in to his hair; running your fingers through his soft locks ever so gently and bringing your other hand up to his neck in attempts to comfort him. Mark was an extremely sensitive guy; which just so happened to be one of his characteristics that you loved the most about him.

Seeing him cry or show any kind of emotional reaction just proved that he cared and that he had a heart of gold. However, you never thought you would see him so shook up over the thought of his son not liking him.

As a parent, it had to be disheartening to think that one of your children couldn’t care less about you, but you didn’t want it bothering him completely. He’s told you on multiple occasions that he felt as if he was a terrible father and that he didn’t know what else to do to get the little boy to like him—he felt defeated. You made it a habit to remind him on a daily basis that he had to be the best father in the entire world and that both your kids were very lucky to be blessed with him as their dad.

“Hey, you’re doing the best that you can—that’s all that matters. Don’t say things like that—you know that’s not true. You’re the most amazing father and an even more amazing husband—you’re nothing short of perfect Mark. He’ll come around sooner or later baby. We have another one coming out here pretty soon—so maybe things will change once the third baby arrives. I know you’re extremely happy that it’s a girl this time.” He nodded rapidly against your neck before lowering his hands down to your butt and playfully squeezing both cheeks.

“Hmmm, I can’t wait till our second little princess arrives. I miss holding you without this basketball of a baby bump in the way. I also think it’s my turn to be inside of you again, it’s been so long—ouch! What? I’m being serious y/n, I miss making love to you so badly I don’t understand why we can’t—we did many times with your last two pregnancies. Your gynecologist did say that sex is good for the baby—you know what? I think you better go help Zachary before I go against your wishes and take you up against this counter as payback for all these bruises you’ve given me.”

His words sent electricity through your veins. It was true—you told Mark that you didn’t want to be intimate when you reached the end of your second trimester only because you didn’t want to put your baby at risk. This might have been your third pregnancy and you felt confident in the way you handled yourself—but your doctor informed the two of you that your baby was growing in a different way; he told you to be extra careful with how you took care of yourself this time around or else you could be having a c-section when it was time for you to give birth.

Your husband did not take the news lightly; he tried his best to get you to reconsider but then again—he didn’t want to put you nor the baby in a dangerous situation. It wasn’t only the sex that he missed—although, he loved feeling your walls wrap tightly around him and hearing you chant his name like a mantra never failed to drive him to the brink of insanity. He felt as though he did a great job professing his love for you while burying himself balls deep inside of your pussy.

It was also the best stress reliever to come home to after a long day at work—but he was just going to have to be content with fleeting kisses and cuddling until you were completely healed from your pregnancy. He just missed being able to do the things you used to do together that you were no longer able to do since you weren’t physically able to do so.

He missed sitting in between your lap while he played video games, he missed going hiking and swimming with you, he missed getting to do all these fun activities together with you. He just missed you. If you were being honest, it wasn’t only your husband who was suffering though; you craved him—feeling his body pressed up against yours, having him hide his face against your neck while reaching his high—you missed being one with him to the point where you tried to talk yourself in to letting him have his way with you.

You were currently seven and a half months pregnant with your third child and you honestly couldn’t be more happier. Settling down with the man of your dreams—the love of your life—your person, and starting a family one day was all you could ever want for yourself from the time that you were a little girl. Not too long after you first had Mia, Mark practically begged you to start having more kids as soon as possible.

You’d be lying if you said parenthood was easy—it was exhausting and sometimes you felt as though you weren’t cut out to be a mother. There were many sleepless nights for both you and your husband—days where she would cry and neither of you knew the reason. Breastfeeding her wasn’t all that easy either—especially when her teeth began to come in and you both were so scared of hurting her while burping her after she drank milk.

However, you and your husband got the hang of things after a couple of months of the same routine and a lot of advice from both your families. When Zachary was born over two years ago, raising him was a breeze. He also was an easier baby to take care of; he didn’t cry as much as Mia did. All he ever really did was eat, sleep and poop. Now that Mia knew that she was having a younger sister—she was very vocal about helping you and Mark take care of her after you were to take her home from the hospital.

Sometimes you felt as if everything was too good to be true. Not only did you have the most wonderful husband who you were so lucky to have in your life for over twenty years now, but you had the most adorable, caring, creative and crazy little kids who were both very smart for their ages. There were nights where you would look at Mark in adoration while he slept and constantly thanked the higher power that brought the two of you together.

Your life in more or less words was perfect—you couldn’t ask for anything better. You were afraid that one day, you would wake up and see that this was all just a dream—a figment of your imagination. Some dream life that you made up because your reality wasn’t what you wanted it to be—but the more you looked at both your children and at Mark—spending time with them no matter what it was that the four of you were doing, it only made things all the more real. This was your life and you weren’t going to take it for granted.

“Keep your hands to yourself horndog oh—and I’d watch it if I were you. Mia is a very intelligent little girl. I’m sure she’s old enough to understand how babies are made. I can’t even count on my fingers how many times the kids have almost walked in on us having sex. I promise, once Sophia is born, I’m all yours and I will make up for having you wait so long. By the way, our munchkin has something she wants to show you.”

There were times where you and Mark could get lost in your own little worlds and completely forget about your surroundings. It was extremely irresponsible of the two of you and you were both trying to work on it—but that just showed how obsessed you were with each other. Sometimes you would be in the middle of making out in the kitchen and you’d feel a tug against your skirt—breaking you both out of your steamy moment.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love our children with every fiber of my being, but they are the biggest cockblockers—“

“Hey, they’re the product of our love and your failure to keep it in your pants. I don’t blame you though—I’m a sight for sore eyes if I do say so myself.” He playfully rolled his eyes at your sarcasm and stole a quick kiss from the corner of your mouth while walking towards Mia.

“That’s the understatement of the year. You’re so fucking sexy—especially while you’re pregnant. You’re completely lethal. Come on y/n, what about a blow job at least—you’re killing me here. You know, I don’t say this as much as I should, but I just want to say thank you. Actually, I could never thank you enough for blessing me with the most wonderful family and the most beautiful kids. I know I say this a lot—I’ve said it many times in the last two decades but I mean it and I will always mean it for the rest of our lives. You and I were made for each other. We’re way passed soulmates baby—the term soulmates isn’t even enough to describe what you and I are.”

The tears were slowly building up in your eyes and you weren’t exactly sure how he was going to go about with his speech, but if you were already such a mess after only a few sentences, what more when he finished telling you everything he wanted to say? It reminded of you of your bachelorette party when his sister told you the same exact thing and you could feel his words having the same effect on your heart as Tammy’s did at the time.

“I know—we’ve hit a couple of bumps in the road in the duration of our relationship and we went through situations where life wasn’t all that good to us. There were so many things that changed in my life—going away for college—giving up my career in sports to focus on our relationship—having to switch jobs because my first one wasn’t giving me the benefits and pay that they claimed they would; that they said I deserved—I went through so many changes but you were the only thing that stayed constant. People say that home is a house—a roof above your head with windows, doors, bedrooms, bathrooms and a kitchen. I didn’t realize it until I was older and left for college—but a home is so much more than that. A home can be a pair of the most beautiful eyes—arms that make me feel so safe and so loved—a body—such a breathtakingly beautiful and extremely fucking sexy body—kisses that are so addictive—like my own personal drug. I genuinely believe that home is where the heart is—my home is wherever you are. Wait no—you are my home y/n. You’re the only thing that I want to stay the same in my life. It was always you—and it’s always going to be you baby. I meant it on the night I proposed to you—I meant it in my vows and I mean it right now. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me—well, other than our babies, but you—God I was never able to give you a genuine explanation to how much I love you and I don’t think I will ever be able to form the right words that would describe even half of what I feel for you. But I love you—with every breath I take—every beat of my heart—every kiss that we share—every time we relish in our love together—you’ve had my heart from the day you allowed me to take a look at your art. Something so near and dear to you—something you never allowed anyone, not even your family to see. But you let me without hesitation. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for our growing family—which I want ten kids at the least so we better keep popping them out one after the other. Spending the rest of my life with you is all I could ever wish to do.”

You began to playfully punch his chest while the tears streamed down your cheeks and the sobs fell from the back of your throat. When the two of you were younger, Mark wasn’t as much of a man with words as he was with actions. Sure, he never went a day without telling you that he loved you. Even on the days that you two would get in to an argument, he never let you go to sleep without telling you those three magical words. But he preferred to show you that he loved you rather than to say it.

Anyone could tell you that they loved you—but only people who genuinely love you would go through great lengths to show it. However—these days, it seems as though he’s been making you cry on purpose by confessing to you all these heartfelt messages. It didn’t take a lot for you to cry—especially because your hormones were all over the place right now—and every time Mark would explain in detail what you meant to him and how he would be nothing without you—it always elicited tears and ugly crying noises. He always laughed though; he loved seeing the affect his words had on you.

“Shithead. You know what speeches like that do to me. God—I—I love you. That’s all I’m going to say. There’s no point in trying to top your confession. I don’t think it’s even possible. You outshined me on our wedding day and I didn’t even want to read my vows after how beautiful and fervent yours were. But I love you Mark Tuan—I love you—I love you—I love you. You’re my best friend and the owner of my heart. I would go through hell and back for you. You mean the entire world and more to me. Thank you for loving me baby. Thank you for being you. I don’t know what World War I must have fought in my past life—but I would do it again and again if it meant being the lucky person who loves you and is loved by you in each and every single lifetime. Being your wife and the mother of your children is the best job in the world. Damnit you ass, I didn’t want to cry at all today. You know what—I need to have you in any way I possibly can—if you’re a good boy, I’ll suck you dry after we tuck the kids in. Mia baby—show daddy what you got from school so I can go help Zach. I can’t wait to see your reaction.”

He beamed at your offer and let out a muffled moan—but his expression was quick to change once you brought up seeing his reaction. He looked at you in curiosity but you just kept quiet while leaning closer in to his chest. Mia went to grab her backpack and took a seat on the hardwood floor. She had a soft smile on her face; obviously delighted with whatever she was going to show Mark. Once she pulled out the item you were referring to however, she looked at her dad worriedly—in fear of a negative reaction.

“A teddy bear—and some—flowers? Who gave you that? I didn’t know teachers gave away gifts like those—“

“It wasn’t her teacher.” The smirk on your face didn’t make your husband feel all too good. In fact, it gave him an idea of who it could have been from and he immediately clenched his jaw before shaking his head in aggravation.

“Nope. No way. No. Mia baby, you’re going to go back to school tomorrow and give this back to whoever was brave enough to give it to you in the first place.”

Seeing your daughter frown because of Mark’s response tugged on your heartstrings and you were quick to pinch at his bicep in annoyance; earning yourself a piercing glare. “Mark—“

“Let me guess—someone has a crush on our princess. It doesn’t surprise me, I always knew she was going to break some hearts one day, but not this soon. She’s only five y/n—“

“Hey! I was five when I met you. I was also five when I started having feelings for you. I think it’s adorable babe. I’ve seen them interact—Ethan genuinely seems to care about her. It reminds me so much of you and I. Come on Mark—don’t be such a hard ass. I’m sure my dad reacted the same exact way when he found out about you, but that didn’t stop us did it?”

He whined before looking back and forth between you and Mia. You were right—in most situations you were always right and he accepted it. But as of right now, he wanted nothing more than for you to be wrong. You and your daughter looked at each other menacingly—both of you began to pout at him—something you knew would get him to give in. Being Mark’s weaknesses had to be one of the only traits you had in common with Mia. You used it against your husband on multiple occasions and it always worked because he was never able to tell either of you no.

“Mark—she likes him too. Remember how people used to tell the two of us that we had no idea what love was? That we were too young to start dating? Now look at us—we weren’t even old enough to cross the street without an adult let alone start a relationship, but we have a love for the ages. If my parents or even your parents were to tell us back then that we weren’t able to be together—do you really think we would be living out our lives the way we are now?” He shook his head in disagreement before releasing a frustrated sigh.

“No. But y/n, she’s my baby girl. It’s different. I know how young boys are—I was one. I didn’t start having those kind of thoughts of you until we were both in high school—but we weren’t necessarily all that innocent back in middle school. I didn’t even know what sex was but I knew that it wasn’t normal for my penis to get hard whenever we would make out. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of or hurting my baby. I don’t care what happens to me—I’d do anything for you and for our children. Even if that means spending my life behind bars. It actually scares me to think of the lengths I’m willing to go in order to protect you all but I honestly wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.”

No matter how many times you’ve witnessed Mark get all soft for your daughter, it always sent so much warmth to your heart hearing and seeing how much he loved that little girl. As a father, seeing your daughter start taking interest in boys was likely to make your skin crawl. You were sure that even when Mia were to enter her twenties and even her thirties, Mark would have this same reaction. He just didn’t want her growing up so fast so soon. Parents weren’t supposed to have favorites—and it didn’t matter how many kids the two of you ended up having together; Mia was his first baby and she would always have a special place in his heart.

“Fine—whatever. I give up! You win! You always win because I can never say no to you. I want to meet this boy tomorrow. I’ll take Mia to school. I want his name, address, date of birth—“

“Mark—“

“Social security number, blood type—“

“Mark—“

“Both his parent’s names, where they work—“

“Mark Yi-En Tuan, I know I just confessed my love for you—but I am willing to take back my words—“

“You wouldn’t dare. You’re stuck with me forever you beautiful pain in my ass. I get it—you and I started our love story very at a very young age, but that doesn’t mean I approve of our children doing the same. I’ll think about it—if Mia’s happy, I guess I’ll have to learn to accept it. But don’t think I’m going to let this slide—I’m adding this on to you owing me orally which—you promised to blow me off once the kids go to sleep tonight so get that cute little butt of yours in the bathroom and help Zach with his bath so you can finally help me with the problem you caused in my pants.”

This earned your husband a lighthearted eye roll and a not so gentle shove against his rib cage. Right as he was going to retaliate, Mia came running over to the two of you and motioned for Mark to pick her up. He lifted her up without a struggle; like she was as light as a feather and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Daddy, my teacher says I’m one of the top three students in her class!” He beamed at her excitement before spinning her around in elation—your daughter’s laughter filled the kitchen as she gently hit at his chest to put her down.

“Good job baby girl! I’m so proud of you! You’re such a smart kid, you get that from daddy—ow! You get your sassiness and abuse from your mom. Why don’t you and I go get some ice cream as a reward? Don’t worry babe—I won’t forget to get you some. Since you ended up eating almost all of mine the last time, I’ll purchase an entire quart for you this time—Mia let’s get out of here before daddy faces any more of mommy’s wrath and not in the way that I would prefer.” Mark pulled you against his chest and placed a couple of sloppy kisses on your mouth before picking up your daughter and walking towards the door.

“Hey daddy, mommy said to ask you about how the two of you met.”

A smile crept on your face as you heard of her question and began to hastily walk down the hall. Mia was still kind of young to understand the concept of love and relationships—but then again, so were you when you met Mark. Love had no age.

She began to ask you questions in the car about how old you were when you were introduced to her father and you took that opportunity to have Mark explain it for you. You honestly didn’t know how to bring the subject up to her without having her asking why it was wrong for her to like someone at her age. Since Mark was the one who didn’t seem all too fond of the idea—you were going to make it his responsibility to tell her of your love story.

“Oh—um—well, you see—your mom and I—we met back in—well—uh—babe, did you maybe want to help me out with this?” Your laughter echoed throughout the hallway at the nervous intonation in his voice. It was obvious he too had no idea how to go about responding to such a difficult question and the thought made you chuckle.

“That’s all you my love. I need to go help Zachary. Good luck! Drive safely and don’t come back without my ice cream! I love you!”

#got7 imagines #got7 mark #mark tuan

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Joey Donner

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- It was a little known fact that nearly every girl in your school wanted to date or at least screw Joey Donner. You were no exception but at least you could tell he was a total ass and didn’t actually try to get with him.

- You acted uninterested, convinced yourself at times that you were uninterested yet deep down you knew you secretly were attracted to him even if it was just the surface you were attracted to.

- But you’re disinterest is what drew Joeys attention to you in the first place. As everyone else swooned you completely ignored him and talked to “losers” instead, hiding away from attention and for the most part wearing clothes which left nearly everything to the imagination. Though to be fair, you woke up at five in the morning and stayed in school till two; frankly you just weren’t in the mood for heels.

- He wasn’t entirely compelled just by that. No, his real interest towards you started when a friend of yours decided to give you a makeover and plead with you to try it out for a week just to see what would happen. Since you were equally curious you gave it a try, even though you knew it was going to be a hassle.

- Thats why early one morning you arrived at school dressed in a v-neck top, a tight skirt, heels, hair perfectly done and more makeup than usual. To say he was enticed would be an understatement.

- “Had you always been so hot?” Was a common question among your peers but most didn’t even realize it was you until halfway through the day. Even Cameron and Michael; your friends, were having trouble not staring at your cleavage. Boys were swarming you to say the least.

- It was kind of fucked up to have the same people who made fun of you throughout middle school and high school now open doors and pull out chairs for you.

- You and Joey were lab partners so to an extent you were forced to interact for at least a good ten minutes a day. A lot of girls were jealous of you for this exact reason but you didn’t pay them any mind.

- It was when you were sat at your desk pulling on gloves to cut open frogs that Joey actually got his first look at you, well, the new you. He genuinely thought you were transferred and a new girl was sitting in your place. Sure he thought you were good looking before but every girl looks a bit better with makeup and some tight clothes, at least to guys like him.

- He slowly sat down next to you, eyes trained on your face and body as he went. You paid him no mind as you wrote down your notes and got to work. He sat there staring at you for a few moments before shaking his head and getting a hold of himself. He couldn’t actually get with a “loser” like you; it would ruin his reputation.

- He was bewildered when he found himself actually starting to like you. You, the girl who was a nobody, the girl that half the school didn’t know existed and the girl that, regardless of all that, still didn’t like him. You were weirdly endearing for it; hot even. He actually had to work to gain your attention.

- Joey doesn’t really know how to go after girls that he doesn’t have leverage on. Like if a girl likes him it’s easy to score with her but what does he do if they seem to hate his guts?

- He tried flirting, complimenting you and being sweet before he asked you out for the first time. You rejected him, quite brutally might he add and so he had to take a different plan of action. His second plan was to annoy the hell out of you, getting you riled up so that you’d give him the attention he wanted from you, even if it was given to him with a glare.

- After an especially rough week with him borderline bullying you he made the mistake of asking you out again. That’s how you and him got into an insult match in an empty hallway of the school after classes ended.

- A moment of stillness came over the two of you after a particularly heated exchange of words. When all of a sudden his hands were cupping your cheeks and your lips were smashing together.

- It was rough, passionate, heated. You didn’t exactly know why it was happening but to hell if you weren’t enjoying it. So long story short you ended up making out with the cocky most popular guy in the school who only moments before you were calling a pompous ass.

- When you came to your senses you realized he had you pinned against the wall and was thoroughly enjoying himself. The two of you pulled apart to catch your breath and were silent for a while, still close in proximity. Both of you leaned in and shared a much tamer kiss before he spoke.

“I’m an asshole, I get it, but that was great and you can’t deny it, alright? There’s something between us and you know it so why don’t we see how this plays out. Let me take you out and make everyone in this town jealous that I have you.”

- Well maybe it was worth a shot, right? You pulled him into another kiss which he smiled into like a giddy fool even if he wouldn’t ever admit it.

- So that’s how you became the hottest couple in school and started living out the dreams of all your classmates.

- He has a major soft spot for you.

- He’s really cuddly when you’re alone. He’s like a totally different person.

- Lots of gifts and dates people your age shouldn’t be able to afford.

- Being backstage at his modeling and commercial jobs.

- He’s jealous as hell, he hates boys looking at you but at the same time loves it because he’s a smug asshole. It makes him proud that people want what only he has.

- He’s lowkey possessive.

- You have to wear his jacket in classes you don’t have with him.

- Hickeys and constant pda.

- When he’s bored he tends to write his name on your skin. At some point he’ll get you a necklace with his name on it and a ring for himself that has yours engraved on it. He probably wouldn’t even tell you about his ring, you’d just notice it for yourself one day and get a little misty eyed.

- He’ll randomly grab a part of your body and start drawing on it. He reserves dicks for other people though.

- Once you’re in his car he’s eating your face. His lips are on yours and they aren’t letting up until they get their fill.

- He likes to grab your face and pull you into kisses.

- His arm is constantly wrapped around your shoulders or waist.

- You’re on his lap like 90% of the time.

- Even though he’s got a big ego, he actually gets pretty flustered when you compliment him on things other than his looks. He doesn’t know how to react at first but he tries his best to play it off and act cool.

- Someway, somehow, you’re incorporated into his workouts whether it be you sitting on his back or underneath him during pushups or you being used as a bench press. It makes things more entertaining for him and lets him show off.

- I feel like his household was the kind where money substituted actual relationships so this boy is probably hella attention starved. The first time you showed him innocent affection he was kinda confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Loving you.”

“...alright.”

- He’s an asshole but it’s somehow endearing?

- Anyone who comes close to bothering you is getting his ass kicked either by him or someone he’s paid to do so.

- He’s a pretty demanding person, he wants your attention, affection, anything you can give him. You’re basically inseparable.

- Hugs from behind with his head resting on your shoulder.

- He’s a sexual guy and proud of it so undoubtedly sex will be a part of your relationship.

- It gets him all hot and bothered when you wear his clothes.

- Him “accidentally” touching your boobs and butt. Just blatant groping yet he’ll probably apologize like it was a mistake.

- Wearing one of his rings, most likely on a chain around your neck.

- Flowers and cute but ‘macho’ notes.

- Fighting usually ends up being his fault because he’s a cocky bastard and won’t ever admit he’s wrong. It also doesn’t help that he thinks he can do whatever he wants.

- You tend to give him the cold shoulder. It annoys the everloving fuck out of him because he’s only just now gotten used to and started to rely on your affection. When you’re not giving it to him there’s a lot of tension and stress in his life. People in school suffer since he takes out all his annoyance on them.

- After a little while he’ll man up and apologize, holding out his arms for a hug once he’s finished. He both smugly smile and melts like butter when you wrap your arms around him.

- If you massage his scalp he’ll turn to putty in your hands.

- Skincare with him. Masks, creams, etc; he probably pampers himself more than you do.

- Likes laying his head in your lap and having you read to him.

- Your teachers love you since you tame him in the classes you share with each other.

- Getting him to stop picking on people.

- Helping him with schoolwork. He’s not dumb he just lacks the motivation and focus to actually go through with and finish his assignments.

- He tries his best to calm down with his drinking and partying because he knows you hate when he’s drunk.

- He likes randomly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

- Pestering you is a game he’s good at and one he enjoys.

- His parents probably like you fine enough but your parents probably don’t like him. Not many parents would unless perhaps you just show your mother a picture of him.

- He’s definitely attempted to bribe your teachers into putting you guys in the same classes, teams, and lab groups.

- When he’s alone and actually tries to do well he can be pretty good at drawing.

- If you mention that you like a certain kind of shirt on him he’ll magically own like a dozen more over night.

- He really likes when you gush over and compliment him. It gives him the confidence that he really didn’t need but greatly appreciates. Or maybe it’s just a boost to his already inflated ego.

- Whenever you’re cold all you have to do is snuggle into him, he’s like a human heater and is all smiles when you randomly bury yourself into his chest.

- No one is allowed to interrupt the two of you at lunch without a proper reason unless they want to be made a fool of in front of everybody.

- He has a hard time saying he loves you because he wants to keep up his tough guy reputation but his heart swells everytime you say it. Deep down you know he does.

- You’re the power couple of the school.

#90s movie #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanon #joey donner #joey donner headcanons #joey donner headcanon #joey donner imagine #10 things i hate about you #10 things i hate about you headcanons #10 things i hate about you headcanon #10 things i hate about you imagine #10 things i hate about you imagines

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stinkysidebitch · 4 years

Text

Smoke Sesh With Shinso

Imagine of you and our favorite sleepy boi smoking together~

Warnings: Pot use (idc abt it clearly but I know some people do so be warned)

Also I highly recommend listening to Brazil by Declan Mckenna since that’s what Shinso was listening to :)

-------------------

Lately things at U.A. had been crazy. It was senior year and testing was harder than it had been junior year by a huge margin. All the cramming made your head hurt, and you were sure your closest friend Hitoshi Shinso felt the same way.

Getting him to open up to you at first had been hard, but it was worth it. He was really a genuine guy but he came off as a little cold sometimes to other people and you knew all of this stress wasn't helping. There was a little joint just begging to be used, and with a lot of students off training with mentors and doing mentorship programs there weren't many students that chose to stay.

Shinso needed to focus on his studies and so did you. He worked his ass off to get into the hero course and he never really got a break. That's when the idea bloomed in your head and you decided to shoot him a text.

It really didn't take you long to get there, the joint and a lighter tucked into your hoodie pouch as you zoomed to his dorm. He was literally waiting outside, resting against the doorframe with his earbuds in acting all casual. Shinso wore a pair of black track pants that sat a little low and a white t-shirt. Typical lazy day wear for him. You couldn't help but crack up when you saw how he stood with his hands in his pockets and legs crossed, his head jerking up at the sound.

"Wha- What the hell are you doing?"

Hitoshi rolled his eyes at your loud cackling and pulled out his earbuds.

"Waiting for you, fool. Come on." He spoke with a smirk and jerked his head in the direction of his room, entering before you could catch up. When you did he was already in his beanie chair. You slid the door closed and plopped down in the other one that he got for you.

Usually when you came over the two of you gamed and Shinso got sick of sitting on the floor or bed so he got you your own.

He drummed a beat against his knees as you pulled out the joint and a lighter.

“It’s been so long since we’ve just had time to do this.”

“Last time was right before our first semester. Not that long.” Sarcasm dripped from his words as you raised a brow at him.

“Keep this up and I won’t share.”

“Fair point.” You heard him mumble as you stuck the joint between your lips and help up the lighter.

“Shouldn’t you do that by the window?”

“Cu’on, mo oneh herehh” You countered, trying to speak around the paper in your mouth earning one of those low rumbling chuckles from Shinso.

Sucking in, you lit the end as the familiar tickling started to form in your throat. Once you were sure you got enough you pinched the joint between your index finger and thumb and held it out to your friend, face contorted as you kept in the smoke.

Once the burning started to get to you, you let out a puff of smoke, hacking and wheezing while Shinso acted like it was nothing. He didn’t even cough, but he also didn’t take as big of a hit as you had.

A stream of white smoke flowed from each of his nostrils as he watched you struggle with a smirk. He passed you a water bottle which was quickly accepted.

“I don’t get it man, you don’t even smoke that much but it barely does anything to you!” You spoke with a raspy voice, lifting the stick to your lips again for another pull.

He simply shrugged and watched you repeat the process. This time when you blew out a cloud you didn’t cough as much which meant that it was working. This time Shinso took a huge hit. You watched in awe as he nearly sucked up the joint.

“Damn- that was expensive, don’t smoke it all!” You whined, snatching it back with a pout.

Shinso chuckled, smoke pouring from this mouth with every sound. You had to admit, his laugh was pretty attractive. It was deep and velvety. You had thought he sounded like he was 30 when he was 16, but now that he was 18 it had gotten a little deeper still. Maybe the pot was working too well, or maybe you were just noticing things that you hadn’t before.

The two of you finished the joint off and when it was gone you both had completely relaxed into the beanbags. You had made sure to get a hybrid so that the two of you didn’t fall asleep like you had last time.

“Wanna play Smash?” He suddenly inquired, turning to face you with arms folded behind his head.

“I’ll ruin you.” A smirk crossed your face as you met his tired gaze. You were always up for a little friendly competition. Especially with him.

“I’d like to see it.”

Hitsohi was always good with quips. It was one of the downsides of having a smart friend.

You watched from your spot as he sluggishly turned on his console, putting in the game and grabbing two controllers from his dresser. He plopped back down next to you and passed you one.

Obviously you picked Samus but no matter who you or Shinso chose he absolutely creamed you. There was no winning with this dude.

Finally after who knew how many losses you finally won.

“Boom, eat it punk!” You tossed the controller down victoriously and he watched it roll across the floor, shooting you a look. You gave him an apologetic smile and shrugged your shoulders, hoping it didn’t break.

“Y/n, you only won because you picked Kirby.”

“Pfttt, whatever! You’re just a sore loser, Shin.”

You replied, sticking your tongue at him. It was then that you noticed his earbuds hanging out of his pocket, small sounds still flowing from them. Wonder took hold.

“What were you listening to?”

He pulled out a phone and held an earbud out to you, putting the other in. Scooting your beanbag next to his awkwardly, you gently took the bud from his hand and tried to ignore the fact that he smelled kinda like peppermint.

The music faded in as you brushed shoulders with your friend, a little dizzied by the close proximity.

“It’s where the world should want to be, for fine something all people ne-eed~”

You noticed a strange buzzing in your fingertips as you gently nodded to the song with a satisfied smile. Glancing up at Shinso you realized he had been staring. Instead of looking away though he gave you a soft smile. The kind that made his brows lift slightly in the front. It made your chest feel warm and tight.

“I’m faithless now though we win every time and I don’t know how~”

You weren’t sure why, but you leaned a bit closer to him, your head fuzzy and mind blank.

“‘Cause I haven’t bought you and I haven’t sold me, but the people are dying to-to get on TV~”

Hitoshi dipped his head down closer to yours, eyes heavily lidded. Even more so than usual. You were leaning against each other now, faces getting closer as you allowed the strange magnetic pull to drag you closer..

“I heard he lives down a river somewhe-ere, with six cars and a grizzly be-e-ear-”

The music dissipated into the background as Shinso closed the remaining gap between the two of you, first his forehead resting on yours before he moved his mouth forward. It was soft and slow, nothing like you expected from someone with such an abrasive personality in general.

You could taste his chapstick and breath mints but you didn’t mind. There was something alluring about it, pulling your hesitant bodies a bit closer. The song continued in the background, forgotten now as you lifted a hand to rest on his chest. You deepened the kiss without realizing it. As soon as your lips parted he took advantage, doing some light exploring.

He gently guided you into his beanbag with a hand on your hip, not that you noticed being that you found yourself far too busy with your best friend’s mouth. You tilted your head, pressing into him further and lifting a hand to slide up his neck and into that soft, unpredictable hair of his.

As soon as you gave his hair a light pull he let out a sigh and you realized what you were doing, jolting back and falling out of the beanbag with a bright red face. The earbud painfully ripped from your ear and Shinso’s, but neither of you really paid attention.

Hitoshi looked equally flustered, turning to the side and rubbing his neck.

“I’m sorry!” You didn’t mean to ruin the moment, but you also didn’t mean to make out with your friend. He allowed his arm to drop into his lap, seeming to be lost in thought for a moment.

“You regret it?” Shinso suddenly asked, turning back to you and looking as stoic as he normally did.

“Well.. no, I don’t think so but.. did you mean to do that?

“Uh.. yeah.”

Of course he did. And so did you. You liked him and you didn’t even know it.

“Want to do it again?” It was like your mouth moved on it’s own. Instead of verbally answering, Shinso got out of the beanbag and sat on the floor in front of you, leaning in.

And there you were, kissing him on the floor with a joint butt in your pocket.

#bnha imagines #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsou hitoshi #bnha x reader #tired boi #give shinso meletonin

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mason-knight-retired · 3 years

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Half way through the night, Mason plucks Marie off the dance floor and leads her to the bar.

“Mase,” she complains. “I was dancing.”

“I know,” he laughs. “But I wanted some time with the guest of honor before you get too deep into round two of that alcoholic haze you have going on.”

She sighs a little. “Sometimes being a biotic sucks. The buzz never lasts long enough.”

“I can help with that. “ He motions to the salarian behind the bar for a round of drinks – more for the table where some of Marie’s squad congregates as well as something special for himself and Marie. Maddox spares him an irritated glare for stealing his dance partner but Mason ignores it. If he’s picking up the tab for the celebrations tonight, he’s going to at least snatch a few minutes with his favourite girl.

He’s about to turn back when an asari in a black formfitting dress cocks her head and gives him an appraising look that he returns with a small inclination of his head and a small raise of his glass.

“Ugh, really?” Marie mutters from beside him. Mason turns to her in surprise.

“What?”

Her eyes shift from him to the asari then back again. “That,” she says, wrinkling her nose delicately, She’s so cute, and an absolute knock out in that sparkly dress.

“What?” he says again, even though he knows full well what she means. “Spit it out, Rie.”

“I… you know what, I’m not even going to ask. I’m wearing heels, got my sparkle on and a drink in my hand and I am celebrating tonight. Who knows when we might be able to do this again?”

Mason taps his glass briefly against hers. “Amen to that.”

Mason leans back against the bar, eying the small crowd gathered around the table.

“So, your squad,” he starts. “Tell me about them.”

Marie immediately straightens, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder. The pride shines bright on her face. “They're amazing,” she says.

“Of course they are,” he says, amused. They look like an interesting bunch, even if they’re all smashed off their faces right now. But then it was a party, that was the point. “They're yours.”

Marie eyes him suspiciously and he throws one hand up. “I mean it. You're a good leader. I wouldn't be going with you on the Berlin if you weren't. I like my skin too much, thanks.” He raises his glass, glances at the asari once more and winks.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable since Dr Lyons put you back together.”

He laughs at that but then his smile fades slightly. He tilts his head and tries to catch her eye. He worries what he says next might piss her off so he keeps his tone fairly neutral. “But you and Nico though? Is that really a good idea?”

“Isaac knows not to send us together when it’s boots on the ground. But I want him with me.”

“I know he wants that too. Speaking of the captain, though, is he planning to make an appearance tonight? I sent him a message.”

Marie shakes her head. “Not his scene.”

“Ethan looked him up. Seems like a good man.”

“He is. I think you’ll like each other.”

“Hm, that’s all I can ask for. But that other one on your squad-“

Mason jerks his chin towards the group and watches as the curly haired kid snatches a drink from a burly blonde and a dark skinned man calmly takes it out of his hand before the liquid can slosh across the table. Another man leans back, arm draped across the back of the curly haired kid’s chair.

“-The greasy looking one that thinks he’s some kind of twentieth century cowboy….”

Marie chokes slightly on her drink. “Thurman?”

“Yeah. Is he going to be a problem?”

“Why would you think that?”

Mason pauses to choose his words carefully. They’ve faced their fair share of distrust from the Alliance and while most of it has died down since their results speak for themselves, there’s still plenty that would be glad to see them all morphed into dragoons and executed. And Mason would rather sleep on the Berlin without having to worry about waking up with a knife to his throat.

His hesitation seems to be all that Marie needs and her eyes flash. “He knows better than that, but if there’s any problems, you come to me about it, Mase. Me. Promise me that.”

Mason throws up his hands in surrender. “Of course.”

He’s about to say more when a wall of heat manifests at his back. He’s instantly enveloped in a familiar cologne and a pair of lips plant themselves to the side of his neck as a wide hand slides across his stomach and tucks into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I knew you took them,” Ethan says into his ear, breath hot enough to make Mason shiver. Ethan draws out a small case. “These are mine.”

“You can have them,” Mason says, trying to ignore the ember that threatens to ignite at the other man’s close proximity. “They’re awful.”

“A new drell blend I found on the wards. Supposed to make you see stars.”

“Makes you see something alright. It’s too strong. Should come with a warning.”

“Serves you right for trying to pilfer. First my shirt, then my cigarettes. Poor form, Huntsman.”

Ethan mouths at his neck again, pointedly ignoring Marie and Mason is forced to swat him away so that they can continue their conversation. Ethan’s low rumble is all he hears before the heat disappears and he’s left alone with Marie once again.

“What?” he says dryly, noting her stare and the high climb of her eyebrows. He doesn’t need to ask but he does anyway.

“So fucking married,” she mouths behind the rim of her glass.

Mason rolls his eyes. “No, that’s just what Ethan is like. He’s like that with everyone, especially when he’s been drinking.” He gestures to the dance floor, where Ethan is currently twirling the tiny one from Marie’s squad around to make his point. What was her name? Harris? She stares up at him with eyes like saucers. “Bloody peacock,” he adds affectionately.

Marie wrinkles her nose and opens her mouth to say more before apparently thinking better of it and Mason nudges her lightly. “Go back to your drink, Miller,” he says, knowing she’s dying to rib him more about it. “Just because you’re loved up in engagement land doesn’t mean-“

“Engagement land, pfft, that’s not a thing, Masey. You’re drunk.”

“No,” he says slowly then wonders if she might have a point. It was starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges and he was having a hard time trying to tear his gaze away from how good Ethan’s ass look in those pants. “Okay, maybe.”

They’re still laughing together when Nico shows up to steal Marie back to his side.

#this is so dumb #and i swear it had a point when i started writing it #but then i forgot it #and well whatever #party shenanigans #marie miller #ethan sinclair #mason knight #im pretty sure you can see the exact moment i gave up here lol

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frostsinth · 4 years

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The Bard’s Bounty - Pt. 4

Part 1|2|3

Injured and without supplies, Iara is without options. Only thing she has? One very annoying bard.

This part was fun to write. Its a bit shorter than usual, but I thought it better to end where it is then start feeding into the intro of the next part. Likes and comments for more updates! Tell me what you think so far!

“H-hey!” Came a shout, and I blinked through the fog.

The sensation of falling was abruptly cut short, replaced by warm arms that were both firm and simultaneously soft. I managed to open my eyes again, and as my swimming vision settled, I recognized the goofy, lopsided grin looking down at me.

“I always knew you would fall for me.” Balam teased.

---

I groaned, shaking my head. I quickly stopped, as the movement made my pounding headache even more vicious. I weakly shoved a hand at him, blinking slowly.

“Get off me,” I mumbled, “Put me down.”

“Damn you’re stubborn,” Grumbled the orc, shaking his head. I felt the sensation of movement dully, and tried to turn my head to see what was going on. “Can’t even accept a little help when you’re bleeding to death.”

I snorted, reaching up a hand full of numbing fingers to my ribs. “I’ve had worse.”

My side was slick and hot with blood. My hand shook as I tried to feel the extent of the damage. I groaned again, blinking, and tried unsuccessfully to look around again. It had gotten darker than the pre-dawn light it had been a moment before. And the air smelled damp.

“Where are we?”

“Cave.” Balam said with a sigh, and I felt the cool stone at my back as he slowly put me down. “Beyond that, I don’t know where.”

“Gods, can you do anything useful?” I groaned, trying to sit up.

A big, meaty hand caught my shoulder, pushing me back down. “I can keep you from bleeding out…. Hopefully…” His voice dropped off a bit at the end.

I couldn’t help but chuckle weakly. “Well that’s reassuring.”

“Would you shut up?”

“That’s my line.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “You need to lie still. Try not to make it worse.”

My lips twitched weakly. “Yes, nurse.”

“Creator’s ass, stop sassing me for two seconds you bitch.” He snarled softly.

I sensed him moving away for a moment, and blinked a few more times, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Cave seemed an accurate assessment. Rock. Rock. Stone. Rock. Something wet and dripping in the corner. It was shallow, maybe a body length or two deep. And probably just high enough to stand in. The faint morning light drew an outline around the cave, and I could just make out the forest beyond the wide entrance. A soft whicker reassured me that Goda was not far. I slowly tried to ease myself up again.

“What did I tell you?” Sighed Balam angrily, returning to the cave with an armful of branches and other assorted things I couldn’t make out.

He dropped them by the wall and dropped down next to me. Catching my good shoulder in his hand.

“Goda,” I breathed, then reached up one hand to press my palm to my forehead.

“She’s fine. There’s water and grass right outside,” He told me, pushing me back gently. “She’s earned a break.”

I nodded faintly, sighing as the back of my head touched the cool stone again. It wasn’t exactly comfortable; about as hard as a rock. I chuckled internally at my own dumb joke.

“Why’d you have to go do something stupid and get yourself stabbed?” Grumbled Balam.

I gasped slightly as he pressed something to my side. “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll just let Sigi shoot you.”

He laughed incredulously, shaking his big head. His dreads bounced about with the movement. “My life was only at risk because you kidnapped me.”

“Collected, not kidnapped.” I corrected him weakly, then tried to crane my neck down to see his hands at my side. “What are you doing?”

He sighed heavily. “Old Tlaloc trick. This moss is very porous. Works as well as cloth to staunch bleeding.”

“Goody.” I breathed, laying back and closing my eyes.

I felt his hand wrap around mine, his large, warm fingers swallowing my hand whole. They felt firm, and strong, and my hazy mind lingered on the sensation for a moment. He brought our hands to my side, and gently pressed my palm against the moss on my wound.

“Here, hold this for a second. I’m going to start a fire so I can see what I’m doing better.”

I didn’t reply, but did as I was told. My head was still pounding, so I tried to focus on some benign point in my brain that might allow my thoughts to soothe. Balam’s face drifted to the surface of my mind’s eye, irritatingly. I brushed it aside with a silent snarl. I so desperately wanted to sleep, and my eyes, even closed, ached. But the adrenaline was still coursing through me, and the anxiety of my situation left a twisting knot in my stomach.

I listened to the sounds of his shuffling, as he gathered the branches into a pile. It was muted, as the soft sound of rain slowly filled the spaces between sounds. But I heard the soft twang of stone on metal, then the sizzling of flames on wet wood. I frowned, opening my eyes.

“Is that my sword??” I demanded weakly as he bent down to blow on the tiny little embers.

“You dropped it when you fell off the horse.”

“Oh, so you know what it is?”

He snorted. “Of course I do.”

“Great. Then why the fuck are you smashing it with a rock?”

The orc shot me an irritated look. “We are a little short on supplies here, in case you didn’t notice, princess. And I’m not about to spend half an hour rubbing two wet sticks together.”

I coughed lightly. “Rubbing sticks together? Thought that was what bards were all about.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I never thought I’d say this, but I honestly think I preferred your cold, frigid bitch act.” He came back over to my side, tossing the sword to clatter a few feet away and dropping back to the ground.

“And I preferred you unconscious.” I mumbled, blinking blearily at him.

Sighing again, he took my hand away from the wound, inspecting it under the light. I saw the furrows on his forehead deepen, and his eyebrows pinched together.

“That bad, huh?” I asked with a soft chuckle.

He glanced up at my face. “...It’s not good.”

I closed my eyes, tilting my head back slightly. “You’re free now, you know,” I told him bitterly.

When he didn’t answer, I opened my eyes again. Found him watching me, staring at my face. I smirked a little, then lifted my arm weakly to shake my bracelet.

“You won’t be able to take it off yourself, but I don’t have the strength to use the enchantment,” I turned my head away, looking at the stone wall instead of meeting those soft brown eyes, “So you can leave anytime. The magic only works within a certain proximity.”

He snorted softly. “You seriously think you can manage on your own?”

“Always have.”

I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. Tried to keep it flat. I knew what was at stake in that moment. New exactly what would happen if he did choose to leave. Darkness was eating at the edges of my vision, and my breathing was ragged. But I was ready for it, I thought. If this was my time, if I couldn’t fight it. I was ready. I would face death as I had faced life. Alone. And it was better that way.

I felt his hand squeeze mine, and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. There was a complicated look on his face. I didn’t have the energy to think it over too much. But I knew I didn’t want to see it anymore. So I closed my eyes and let out a slow, shuddering breath.

Sniffing, I felt him gently place my hand on the ground near my face.

“Nah. No thanks.” I heard more shuffling, then felt the sharp stinging pain as he pressed something against my side. “Don’t feel like having your frigid ass haunting me.”

Surprised, I opened my eyes, looking at him. He made a point not to meet my gaze, steadily working on cleaning my wound instead.

“... If I get better, I’m still taking you in,” I told him, my voice a little sharper than I meant it to be. “Nothing has changed.”

He shrugged his big shoulders, a tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Not maybe. I’m a bounty hunter. And you’ve got a huge bounty on your head. A payout like that would have me set for a long time-” I narrowed my eyes a little at him- “I’m not passing up that chance.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, simply cleaning my wound. He ripped up some plant with his teeth, and began chewing it thoughtfully as we worked.

“You could’ve killed me.”

“What?”

“You could’ve killed me,” He repeated softly, still chewing, “The bounty is just as good with my severed head. But you didn’t.”

I gave an angry sigh. “I’m not a killer.” I grumbled irritatedly under my breath.

He chucked again, the sound darkly unfitting to his usual jovial nature.

“Neither am I.”

Then he spit the chewed up plant into his palm. Using two fingers, he scooped some up and began smearing it against my side.

“Oh gods! What in the nine hells are you doing?” I snapped, jerking a little.

“Hold still,” He ordered, still smearing the half masticated goop on me, “Its Threnweed. Good for healing and staving off infection.”

“It’s gross,” I shot back, scowling weakly, “I don’t want your spit on me.”

Balam’s head fell back as he laughed loudly. “Well, the last time we swapped spit, you poisoned me,” he reminded me with his now familiar lopsided grin, “Let’s just say this makes us even.”

My face burned at the memory, but my scowl merely deepened and I turned away from him again. He finished his work, wiping me up as best he could with what he had. Then I felt him pat my good shoulder.

“Get some rest now. That will help the most.”

His hand lingered for a moment, his tough fingers warm against my cold skin. It tingled beneath his touch, and for a moment, I thought he might do more. Stroke my hair back. Turn me to face him again. Strangle me. But he didn’t, and eventually the weight of his hand disappeared.

My whole body quivered from exhaustion, but after a few moments I forced myself to turn and look for him one more time. He was still sitting next to me, surprisingly close, and I blinked stupidly for a moment. I could smell his musky scent, and feel a little of the heat of his body.

“What are you going to do?” I asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. “I’ll find a way to entertain myself, don’t you worry.”

I sighed heavily, feeling the tension in my muscles. Even laying on cold stone rock, I couldn’t fight my exhaustion anymore. I blinked a few more times stubbornly, but my whole body felt like a throbbing pile of lead.

Balam was fiddling with something in his hands that I couldn’t make out. I fought against the sleep, turning my head this way and that. Shifting my legs, rubbing my hands against my face.

I realized suddenly that a soft, gentle humming had filled the air around me. It was distant, like bees in a hive somewhere hidden among the trees. But it was soothingly deep. I swore I could feel it vibrating in the ground beneath me too.

Along with the sound of the rain, it soothed my tattered nerves, and slowly, I relented. Giving in to my absolute exhaustion. I plummeted into darkness like an anchor dropped into stormy waters….

....

UPDATE: Part five HERE

#OC #orcs #orc #orc bard #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #enemies to lovers #slow burn #exophilia #terato #dnd #update #The bard's bounty

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ailuro-mania · 4 years

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Inukag Week 2020: June 12th *Instinct*

It’d been almost a year now since Kagome’s return to the feudal era and summer was just rounding the corner again. Fireflies spread across the grassy field in front of Sango and Miroku’s hut. They’d chosen to live just a bit of a distance from Kaede’s village but close enough to keep guard. And in result, a lot more wildlife circulated their little hut to Kagome’s joy.

Two little twin girls spun in circles in the taller parts of the grass, clapping their hands together in attempt to catch some of the fireflies. Which, when they did, Yaiyoi would typically scream in disgust while Natsumi would laugh in her own little evil way, attempting to wipe off the little bug carcass on Yayoi’s kimono. Kagome couldn’t guess why Yaiyoi was even trying to smash the flies between her bare hands other than to impress her elder sister, or get her revenge. Which wasn’t a normal trait for the girl, she was typically the calmer one.

Though a year had passed, the young priestess still had yet to make friends with Natsumi the way she had with Yaiyoi and Sango’s little boy, Haru. Natsumi didn’t seem to be too interested in what Kagome had to offer, all she saw was the lady who stole her uncle Inu away. A small crush had been formed during her absence, Kagome knew that much. And Inuyasha had such a weak spot for the girls, even if he pretended he didn’t around others. But little Natsumi’s jealousy only grew when Kagome’s pregnancy had been announced. It’d been 8 months since and Natsumi still refused to look the priestess in the eye. But Kagome refused to give up, she was going to win this girl over one day.

“Girls!” Sango popped out of the hut with Haru balanced on a hip, “Dinner is ready! And unless you want to go hunt for your own tonight I suggest you hurry up and get in here before I feed it all to the village dogs!”

Kagome smiled and watched as the two girls jumped at their mothers voice and quickly brushed themselves off, racing back to the hut. Before they reached the door, Sango put out a hand and raised her brows. “I know you aren’t coming in here with dirty hands.”

“Awww, mooom,” Natsumi complained, scrunching her nose and puckering her lips in anger. “I wiped them off in the grass!”

Sango shook her head and pointed towards a water bucket with her free hand that was kept at the corner of the hut, a silent demand.

Both the girls followed through, Natsumi making as much noise as possible, making sure everyone within proximity knew of her annoyance while Haru started up a giggle fit watching as his highly entertaining sisters fight over who got to wash their hands first.

Sango blew out a breath of air, lifting her bangs. She looked over at Kagome who remained sitting on the bench outside their hut, still smiling fondly at the two girls. The demon slayer shifted her son to her other hip and offered a hand out to Kagome, which Kagome took with relief. Most all her weight depended on Sango for a solid second, though the brunette could easily handle lifting her heavily pregnant best friend up off a bench.

“Come, I made boiled chicken. And you’re staying with us until both Miroku and Inuyasha return tonight from their job. I won’t have you walking back to your hut alone in the dark,” Sango chided.

Kagome rolled her eyes at her, hands unconsciously resting at the top of her swollen belly. “You don’t think I could fight off demons and evil humans with this belly, hm?”

Sango laughed and shook her head. “Perhaps. But I think Inuyasha would prefer you not use the womb that holds his child as a fighting tool.”

“Pfh,” Kagome scrunched up one side of her nose with a small wink, “I can take him too.” The priestess lifted both fists and gently bumped them onto Haru’s side as he continued to giggle. He was always such a happy boy.

Natsumi came running between the two women, almost tipping Kagome over on the way. Kagome gasped but was thankfully, once again, caught by Sango.

“Natsumi!” Her mother scolded, “You’ve better have a nice apology to be said right this instant.”

The girl looked over at her mother and back towards the dinner pot that hovered over the fireplace in the middle of the hut. “Sorry.”

Once Kagome had her feet planted firmly on the ground again she shook her head, “It’s okay. She probably didn’t think I’d lose my balance so easily.”

Sango pressed her lips together in a tight line but said nothing further. She quietly lead Kagome back into the hut making sure Yaiyoi followed and set Haru down in a small play pin made of smooth wood, quickly placing a kiss to the top of the boys head.

Natsumi and Yaiyoi kneeled down around the firepit holding their bowls out in front of each other, awaiting their mother to serve them. Sango served them both before grabbing a bowl for herself and Kagome, joining her friend closer to the wall where she could rest her back against. She handed her the priestess her serving before kneeling down next to her.

“So have you thought of any names?” The demon slayer questioned after taking a few bites.

Kagome’s smile was contagious, her eyes instantly lighting up at the topic chosen. “Well, not really. Inuyasha sorta put the naming thing on me, and I’m awful at naming… All my dolls as a child were named after some J-Pop group I enjoyed simply because they resembled them…” she stopped her explanation realizing she lost Sango at the mention of J-Pop. She cleared her throat and shook her head, “I just don’t want to name her something silly and have her stuck with it her whole life.”

Sango straightened up at the mention of gender, “Her?”

A flush came across Kagome’s cheeks and she took another bite of her food before setting the bowl down and resting her hands back against her belly. “I think she’s a girl. I just have this feeling, and these dreams. I can never remember them, but I do know there’s always a butterfly. A small yellow butterfly.”

Sango’s brows pulled together, clearly about to ask a question but Yaiyoi came skipping over and plopped herself down right in front of Kagome.

“I think she’s a girl too!” Yaiyoi shouted gleefully, reaching out and tenderly placing her hands against Kagome’s stomach. The girl squealed delightfully when she felt movement coming from within, her eyes lighting up. “See? She’s telling us she is!” Yaiyoi leaned in, her face set in determination. “Baby, if you’re a girl kick once! If you’re a boy, twice!”

A few moments passed between the three before a very solid, surprising, kick pressed against the small girls hands. Another squeal erupted from her as she jumped up and danced around.

Kagome giggled and Sango smiled, pulling Yaiyoi down into her lap, smothering her girl with kisses.

“I didn’t know my girl was a fortune teller,” she teased before placing another kiss to the top of her daughters head, trapping her between her arms.

“Mother!” she struggled against the strong arms. Sango laughed and released her.

Natsumi watched the ordeal from her original sitting spot. Another girl only meant more attention stolen from her uncle. Not that she would be terribly excited for a boy, either. All of those options simply meant losing her uncle’s undivided attention for the few hours she got to see him during the day.

Haru begun to cry from his corner in the play pin, clearly upset he wasn’t involved in the fun his mother, aunt, and sister were having. Sango huffed out a breath and glanced at Kagome, “I hope you’re ready for the crying as much as you are for the giggles,” she teased her friend as she got up from the floor and made her way over to her baby boy. Swiftly lifting him up into her arms she excused herself and walked out into the night. The moon always seemed to calm the boy down, Kagome knew that much after having babysat the child on nights his mother and father needed alone time.

Yaiyoi sat up and grabbed Kagome’s hand, whispering excitedly “Do you think she’ll have uncle Inu’s ears?”

“I do hope so,” Kagome whispered back with the same excitement.

Yaiyoi gasped, eyes widening.

Natsumi rolled her own eyes and got up from the ground making her way over to her sister and aunt. The four year old crossed her arms and peered down at Kagome.

The priestess simply looked up at her niece, a small questionable smile playing on her lips. “Yes Natsumi?”

The elder twin plopped down on her knees and smacked Kagome’s belly. “I think the babies stupid,” she spat out.

A gasp stunned all 3 occupants of the hut, Sango stood in the doorway with a sleepy Haru, her brown eyes laced with anger. “Natsumi!” She scolded.

That woke the boy back up, tears starting to surface once more along with a wail. Sango grunted in frustration and leaned her sons face into her shoulder bouncing him up and down.

Meanwhile, Kagome’s eyes trained on her eldest niece, hands over where her belly had just been offended. “It’s okay,” the priestess spoke aloud to Sango.

“No, no it is not! Natsumi when your father gets h-“

Something pulsed in the air, the hut suddenly filling with an disturbingly strong aura. Kagome gasped and doubled over, her hands pressed tightly against herself. Haru continued screaming against Sango’s shoulder and the twins both jumped up. Yaiyoi quickly put her hand against her aunts back calling to her mother while Natsumi backpeddled.

Sango was quick, gently placing her upset child into his resting crib and pulling Yaiyoi away from Kagome. Not that she thought Kagome would hurt any of her family, but this wasn’t normal. Kagome was nowhere near due. The demon slayer wrapped an arm around Kagome’s back, pushing her dark raven locks out of her face.

“Kagome? Kagome can you look at me?”

Kagome groaned out in response, shaking her head. She’d begun trembling in the slayers arms.

This aura wasn’t out of the ordinary. Sango knew it well from the past, it felt like Inuyasha’s when he turned full demon. Only Inuyasha wasn’t here, and he certainly wasn’t a full demon. The brunettes eyes fixed on Kagome’s belly that was hidden protectively by Kagome herself. Her friends eyes were squeezed shut and seemed to be whispering to herself between gasps.

Loud footsteps smacking against the wooden floor broke Sango’s attention when she was suddenly jolted and pulled away by her husband. Swiftly realizing he’d done so to protect her from a growling half demon that’d already wrapped his mate in his arms instinctively. The markings on his cheeks prominent, burying his face onto the side of Kagome’s cheek begging her in question if she was okay. His hands rested against Kagome’s while his person being pressed up behind her.

Miroku gently pulled his wife up to her feet, “What happened?”

Haru’s continued screaming started to ring in Sango’s ears, head shaking, “I… Natsumi hit her stomach, she… well, you know her! She was getting jealous and… and then this aura surrounded us and Kagome started to scream and…”

Kagome gasped out painfully once more, tears hitting the wooden floor underneath her. Inuyasha’s grip tightened, but his head snapped toward Sango, a feral rage swirling behind golden hues.

He was acting on his yokai, Sango knew that. This wasn’t his normal reaction and Kagome was in pain. Sango shook her head once more in response to his unasked questions.

The air seemed to return back to normal then, Kagome’s gasps for air evening out. The aura dissipated and the priestess relaxed in her husband’s arms. “I’m okay,” she hoarsely whispered.

Inuyasha waited a full minute before slightly loosening his grip as he pulled Kagome up to her feet with great care. The priestess had her sweaty forehead pressed against his shoulder with her eyes closed.

Sango stepped forward but Miroku gripped her wrist, preventing her from going any further. Which was probably for the better. Inuyasha’s cheek markings still surfaced though his sclera never once turned red. The slayer Inuyasha carry her friend out of their hut not once sparing a word or glance at her or her family.

*******

Inuyasha’s temper didn’t budge by the time he got Kagome home to their own personal hut. His markings faded, sure, but a continued growl emanated from his chest the entire run back home. She was still easy to carry in his arms, his caution grown by tenfold since her pregnancy.

The hut was dark but warmed from the summer sun. Still he snatched a quilt from nearby and sat down on their futon, back against the wall, stretching the quilt out and wrapping it around his wife. She’d been quiet since their departure from Sango and Miroku’s. Her eyes were focused on his feet as if they were the most interesting things in the world to her at that moment.

He quietly wrapped his arms around her once more on the outside of the quilt, his forearms resting above her belly. “Are you suddenly not interested in sharing your emotions with me?”

A soft sigh and blow of air from her nose was her only response.

Inuyasha’s eyes narrowed, lifting one clawed hand up and turning her chin to look at him. Her eyes adverted but he could read her like a book. “Kagome.”

“Inuyasha.”

Another growl begun to surface, “Damnit woman, are we just not going to talk about this?”

She pursed her lips and slipped her chin out of his grip. “I don’t know what there is to talk about, it happened. It’s over. I’m fine.”

“You weren’t FINE! You were hardly breathing and your damn heartbeat was flying! Kagome you were in pain!”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle!” She countered, shifting to get out of his arms and from between his legs. “You don’t need to hold me like I’m going to break, I’m okay, Inuyasha.”

His yokai screamed at him to tighten his grip but he knew better, he knew he’d lose the battle regardless. So he loosened it, letting her slip out and lean forward. “Kagome…”

“I don’t know what happened,” she admitted, “I know Natsumi hit my stomach but it didn’t hurt, promise. Then I felt a massive heat surface from within and it felt like I was being burned. I couldn’t breathe, you’re right. But it stopped, right? So I’m fine. We’re fine. She was just being a little girl, she was getting jeal-“

Inuyasha’s growl heightened, “You don’t need to defend the runts I know how they are.”

“And I know how you are. Natsumi didn’t… She was angry. She’s four.” Kagome struggled to turn around, Inuyasha helping her the best he could. She whispered a soft thank you and placed her hand on his cheek.

“We’re okay.” She assured him once more, her brown eyes boring into his with every ounce of adoration she could possibly express to him.

Inuyasha’s ears twitched but he nodded his head and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. “I was so fucking worried.”

Kagome smiled and brushed her fingers through his thick hair, down to the nape of his neck. Her free hand lifted under his chin to bring his lips to hers, sharing a soft kiss within the darkness of their home. “You were acting on instinct.”

Golden eyes peered back up at her after she had pulled away. He exhaled an entire breath and adjusted himself into the futon, tugging at her kimono to get her to join him.

A small, breathy laugh and she laid right down next to him, never being able to deny him.

His arms wrapped around her once more, face burying into the back of her neck. He breathed in her scent and let himself relax against her back. Kagome took his hands and placed them against her stomach, resting her own on top of his. They stayed like that as Kagome drifted off and let herself be claimed by sleep.

*******

Later that night Kagome’s back was caught in a drift of summer air, keeping her breath even, she still felt four hands pressed against her.

Inuyasha had been making small noises Kagome rarely ever heard from him. Soft yips and chitters quietly spoken to her belly. She chanced peaking one eye open to look down at her husband. His forehead was nearly pressed against her as he leaned over, legs crossed. Watching in awe, letting him continue his chat with their unborn child. He had never used this language in front of Kagome. Or at least, not when he knew she had heard.

It lasted maybe another minute before Inuyasha realized his mate had woken up. His cheeks lit up pink the moment their eyes met.

“I… I uh…”

Kagome smiled affectionately, leaning up a bit and reaching her hands out to him. Once he was in her grasp she put all her weight on him to attempt at pulling him down. He sat there awkwardly before giving in to his wife’s demand and letting her tug him down.

She kissed him passionately, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him in place.

Stunned, but not against it, he returned the kiss, putting both hands on either side of her head to hold himself up and avoid any of his weight on her front.

“’Gome,” he tried.

A grin spread across her lips and she let him up.

“What was that for?” He demanded, his cheeks still tinted pink from being caught.

“I love you. I love you so much,” She pulled him down again, lips pressed harder onto his.

He laughed into the kiss, fangs scrapping against her bottom lip.

Once again, she let him pull away. His lit eyes rang with question though his face was brandished with a lopsided grin.

“What were you saying?” She finally broke the silence.

Inuyasha cleared his throat, this time it was his turn to advert his eyes. “I… I was just seeing if they’d respond to it.”

“And?”

“And… they did. They kicked a lot.”

“But what did you say?” She pressed once more.

He shrugged.

“Inuyasha!”

“Kagome!”

She frowned and dropped her arms from around his neck with a pout. “I take back my kisses.”

“Oh? You can’t do that.”

“I just did,” Kagome turned herself over to the right, her back facing where he kneeled.

Inuyasha sighed out and brushed a lose strand of hair from her face. “I was making sure the pup was okay.”

Kagome spared a glance at him, looking away just as quickly.

“… And thanking them. I know what they did hurt you, but I think they were protecting you. Or trying to. They’re developed enough, but I fear maybe… Maybe their stronger than even I am if they can emit that aura,” he sighed out.

She finally made full eye contact with him, turning herself back around and placing her hands back onto her stomach, chewing on her lip to think of a response.

He frowned at that, lifting up his hand and taking her lip out from under from her own teeth.

“I think you’re right. I think… she’s very strong. Especially with both spiritual and demonic energies combined. For the longest time I feared that I wouldn’t be able to carry her this far. I feared that somehow we’d counteract children of our own, but she’s put up a fight to be with us. And she’s getting ready to be here, to protect our little family. She’s going to be feisty,” Kagome smirked and rested a hand on her beloved’s cheek, “and kami, I know she’s going to have your drive. You’re going to be such a great father, Inuyasha.”

Kagome swore she saw tears build up in his eyes before he leaned down to press yet another kiss onto her lips.

A giggle was shared between her lips and his, her arms wrapping back around his neck. He’d finally settled down against her, Kagome mindlessly running her fingers through his locks as she quietly contemplated names for their child.

#im sorry i wrote one of them that way theyre sweethearts i KNOW IT #anyway #i hope this is enjoyable aheh #inukag #inukag fanfiction #inukag week #inukag 2020 #fanfiction #inu x kagome #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag week 2020 #god im bad at tags

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

Text

“No Order Can Make the Heart Miss”

Summary: Trust is not something Samara has learned between trading one tiara for another all the way to the queen’s crown her mother managed to get her hands on. Until Erendor’s short absence brought about a shift rocking her whole world with the steadiness she’s always craved but never had before.

This is happening. I have officially started shipping this and writing fic that focuses on it. I have a feeling there'll be no going back. I hope you enjoy!

Samara's heart was racing faster than it had on the stage of every beauty pageant and modeling contest she'd ever competed in as if to compensate for the lack of rouge on her cheeks. Not an easy conclusion to draw when a good portion of her earlier career was lost in the fog of her youth in which the orders she'd followed had been her only means of navigation and the hollow first places she'd won had had no value for her with all the power still held out of her grasp as the tip of the tiara on her head had barely reached her mother's waist. Yet, she'd come to the knowledge in the blink of an eye–or would have if hers weren't closed in the midst of the shared moment–had found it via what she would have been forced to play off as logic with the focus of a crowd on her but in the privacy of Erendor's bedchamber intuition didn't have to dig itself deep in the back of her mind like it was a dirty word.

It slipped freely through her fingers as she clutched at Erendor's outfit–still the one he'd traveled in when he hadn't taken the time to change and she hadn't given it to him–and guided her tongue to caress him in return for the invitation to openness. Her lips parted further to coax the little moans starting in the back of her throat to run along and greet his breath rushing into her system like her eyes had swallowed the sight of his carriage pulling up and her body was absorbing his company as if it was a solid ruby resting on her chest to ground her. Holding herself back would kill her in the vain attempt at hiding that it was.

There was no hiding from Erendor's mouth as it pressed hard against her own, enough so to burn her with the warmth of the contact and the insistence of her own being to follow and return the ardency. His tongue slid over hers hurriedly, sloppily even, like a clumsy river spilling all outside its bed – in a manner so unsuitable for a king. He was no king now. He was a servant to the devouring impulse she awoke in him. He was her husband.

She had to be drowning in fear but that wasn't what had her heart thumping in her ribcage as if looking for a vulnerable place to smash through and jump outside where it could be grabbed by rough hands. There was no reason to tame her pulse now and lock up the flood of blood behind foundation on her sides and neck like she'd done as a bride leaving her life for a palace she wouldn't even get to claim a trophy of her own. She wasn't a shadow anymore that had to seek cover from the obliterating reveal of truth. She was the one holding the light in her hand to be his control and the kingdom's. Her will was the sun he wouldn't poke to blind him. He'd ask for the rays and she'd give them without forcing him to plead to have the gold shining on both their heads in a radiant symbol of their union.

Her fingers slid over his jaw like it was the edge of the crown she was stroking but the heat on her flesh welcomed differently with his words and actions having laid a path for it inside her that his absence hadn't erased as if it was weak graphite. There was no chill running down her spine from the bright gleam of metal too heavy for her delicate neck, only the weight of his hands on her waist holding him to her, not the other way around. A crucial distinction she could hardly make out with her tongue all tangled up with his and the shift in temperature all over her body as his presence wrapped her more securely than the blanket she cocooned herself in at night as if she was a tiny centipede praying to transform into beauty that could fly rather than exhaust all those legs just to crawl.

Erendor growled in her mouth to send her heartbeat vibrating at the same frequency despite her inability to tell whether the primal sound was directed at the dress clinging in the way of his hands to her skin like it was its purpose or at the oxygen missing from their lungs while their mouths were locked together and her mind hyper focused in the space between their bodies to fill it away and leave no emptiness. She would have almost mimicked it as his lips slipped out of her reach if not for the quiet whine dropping out of her heart to tingle through her whole body like she had no shame to block the way and stop the spread.

"Show me," Erendor huffed against her cheek in the short reprieve he gave his system. His lips ghosted over the burning flesh to tickle with their softness and the breath rushing out of him in place of the usual orders he barked at their subjects.

One inhale. Two. Three. Enough to pin her mind in place as the rhythm of her own chest grounded her back in her body instead of the proximity of his. "What?" Not enough air had entered her in the absence of his tongue for the short word to get out without revealing the void it had had to go through. It didn't matter when his own voice had been quiet like shortness of breath didn't even make it after the physical effort his ridiculous friendly sparring with Oritel pulled out of him. It was the question of hesitation that shook the words off his lips despite his honesty always falling out of his mouth like a brick hitting her over the head with how unafraid he was to let her touch it.

"Show me how much you missed me," Erendor panted so close to her ear that the sound went directly through it and in her mind like a knife.

It was a weakness. And a weakness she couldn't give anyone so close to her. Close as Erendor had come after a two-week absence he'd kept away from her like it was an out-of-control dragon instead of a personal matter that was his to attend to. A visit to his family to relocate them to another estate they owned near the northern border of Eraklyon where spring came late and summer didn't stay long bought for the specific purpose of being as removed from the crown as possible.

It had been the family he'd had before her–a fortress of painful memories reflected in her eyes–he'd spared her, not the reign he'd pulled out of her hands. The crown was still on her head where her mother had put it but it had been his careful fingers through the waves of blood red hair that had fixed it there–even though she'd had no one else to catch the gold symbol from shattering if it slipped off–instead of knocking it away with the dismissal she'd lived inside before she'd called the palace home for the first time.

He wasn't asking her for affection, just for attentiveness. It was her own heart that had considered giving more on its own initiative which was more than she'd been given the chance for before she'd signed away her last name for a palace and a kingdom. He'd given her a husband and a family. He'd given her so much to hide from him in his presence and from herself in his absence if she wanted to continue living in the dark cast over her life by a silhouette time had been supposed to sand off her mind without the shape burning in her eyes every day.

She reached for the emerald green of her dress instead of the creased red clinging to his body like rust from the road to shed the fabric she wore like armor on demand of the diamond-hard habit embedded in her behavior. How would stripping him vulnerable say anything about her intentions, about her transformation... about her heart?

#winx club #winx samara #winx erendor #erendor x samara #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

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consultingsister-aa · 4 years

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five times kissed (seb and cee but alt politics for spice)

THIS MEME for: @epiitaphs verse: alt poltical

It had started on their very first lecture with Professor Campbell. Celia has answered his question with ease, she knew all the dates, all the facts, all the names. She was just getting ready to bask in the glory of already identifying herself as best in the class when a voice, a male voice, two rows back started.

“Actually, wasn’t it Nicholson, not Nicholas?”

It was a ridiculous, unimportant fact. There was no need for him to even point it out; it didn’t change any fo the facts of the case. As Celia turned to shoot daggers at the boy, he smiled at her. Not a friendly, apologetic smile but a gloating, lazy grin. She hated Sebastian Moran.

Over the term, they continued in this fashion. Every time Celia or Seb raised a hand to answer a question, the other would sit up, lean closer, wait for someone to slip up. If there was nothing to be corrected, they offered a rebuttal. “While I see where Miss Holmes is coming from…” matched “I can understand where Moran would get that idea, however…”. It was a careful and considered game of intellectual tennis and no one was enjoying it quite as much as each other.

Six weeks in, Campbell would pause after every comment made by either and look to the other. On their final day in class before the Christmas break, after Celia had offered an almost perfect argument for the case, Campbell looked to Seb. As did Cee. Seb simple raised his hand and offered a shrug. “I think she’s right.”

Celia was furious.

They had never spoken outside of class before, other than to offer snide remarks as they waited outside the lecture hall. She found out where his room was from a friend and, upon finding it, knocked gently. And then harder. And then, harder still, banging her fist against the door. She could hear him shouting I’m coming, I’m coming from inside but continued to hammer, until he yanked the door open. As he took her in, that stupid arrogant smile returned.

“What did you mean when you said, I think she’s right? What did you mean by that?”

Seb gave a disbelieving laugh. “That you were… correct? Do you want to have a fight over that?”

“No, but you fight me on everything else. So why not today?”

“I thought you were right today.”

Celia gave a furious little huff and stormed away from his door, only to storm right back to him. “You know what I think? I think-- I think you’re an arsehole, with no manners.”

“Yeah? Well, I think you’re a spoiled brat who’d never heard the word no, in her life.”

Cee steps closer to him, teeth bared in a snarl. In fact, she’s so close she needs to tilt her head to talk to him. There are only a couple inches in their heights, but with their chests nearly touching, it matters. “I am cleverer than you. I will do better than you. I will bury you.”

His smile doesn’t drop as she hoped, in fact, he arches an eyebrow. “Is that a promise, Holmes?”

An actual growl escapes her before she throws her arms around his neck and smashes her lips against his. He reciprocates, despite himself maybe and before long, he’s letting her pushing him back into his room, slamming the door behind her. A whole semester of foreplay had been leading to that moment and they did not disappoint.

II.

Celia loved being married. Although she had not taken her husband’s name, there was something in the way her lecturers said Ms. instead of Miss that set her apart from her fellow students; especially the girls. It was that drawn-out zzz sound that did it. She was a head above the rest of them; one step closer towards the finish line. When her friends said boyfriend, she might have laughed at them, how immature. How childish. They wouldn’t know until they knew.

And this wasn’t all in her head either. Despite themselves, despite their education and personal ambition, the girls around Cee felt it too. Celia knew things they wouldn’t know for years; the secrets of a wife. Even though some of the girl’s condemned marriage as a modern form of slavery they too fell into the trappings of 1950. Everything had changed and nothing had. When Celia lay out her hand on the table, catching her ring in the light, they sighed enviously as Celia had hoped. What did it matter about her masters in law, when she had a man. Personally, she’d rather have the degree but she knew, as she moved forward in life, it would be her ability to find, capture and keep a man that everyone would be really impressed by.

It was for this reason that they gathered with her outside the lecture hall, where she had agreed to meet Seb on that Friday night. They wanted to be witnesses to it, as if being in close proximity to a married couple brought them closer towards marital bliss themselves. Cee didn’t say very much. She played it off as unbothered coolness but in reality, she was distracted by the conversion by her own excitement. It wasn’t exactly Seb she was excited for, but just to be seen with him again. To become the weekly gossip; what did Cecelia do with her husband this weekend? They all wanted to know what these strange married creatures do.

“Oh, is that him now?” A friend piped up, trying to cough over her excited squeal. Cee might have laughed at her; as if you don’t know. She looks up and lazily closes her book.

“Yeah. Alright, see you on Monday.”

“Are you not coming to Sunday study night then?”

“Oh, I forgot. I’ll see what Seb is doing. I actually might need to go into the city with him for a dinner with his boss, or something.” She rolls her eyes to make it look like she can’t be bothered with it. It’s not even true, there was a dinner the week and no partners were invited but it gave Celia a prick of pleasure to imagine them all discussing it at the Sunday study night.

She doesn’t run into his arms, instead closing the gap between them with a slow, casual walk and an easy smile. They were close enough that Seb could call out to the other girls and wave. It was nice of him to throw them a bone, Cee thought.

When she did greet him, it was with a hand on the back of his neck so she could pull him down for a long, deep kiss. In fact, knowing the girl’s eyes were on them, she stayed longer than normal.

“What was that for?” Seb asked, pulling back from her.

“Nothing. Just happy to see you. How was your train?”

III.

It wasn’t fair to say that Cee and Seb weren’t affectionate. Sure, they didn’t hold hands unless they needed to and loving embraces tends to either come before or after sex but they had their moments. People noticed the way, if Seb was setting, Celia would stand behind him and squeeze his shoulders. Or, if something thrilling, shocking or wonderfil happened, they would immediatly look towards one another, if to check in, or delight in it. And while they slept on the same side of the bed due to the fact Seb refused to get buy a double bed for the four years they slept together in university, they still did it. They had to count for something. There was cards or flowers or weekly dates but that didn’t mean there wasn’t love. Cee loved Seb more than anyone in the world and she was quiet confident he felt the same way.

Which is what made Katherine’s death all the harder. A casm had opened up between them and she saw no real way to get over it. The evening they had returned home to an empty nursery, Celia had feverishly Googles how she was supposed to feel; how to deal with the loss of a child; the staged of grief. Her own feelings didn’t align with any of them.

What she really felt was annoyance. The plan that they had agreed to had fallen apart. All that work for nothing. And there was now a black stain on her history. A bump on the road. They would have to tell people, for the next couple weeks, everyone would skirt around her like she was a wounded animal they didn’t know what to do with. How did you comfort Cecelia Holmes when she had no interest in being comforted? How to comfort Sebastian Moran, then?

She stood in the baby pink bedroom, gripping onto the cot rail, willing herself to feel the loss. The sweet little baby; that looked like every other bbay she had ever seen. So a future lost; one likely filled with trauma and resentment, with her as a mother. She banged her palm against the wood and swore. It was only then she realised Seb was behind her. Her movement was guilty, spinning around and holding her hands begind her back as if she had something to hide.

“I was just thinking of packing some things away.” She cleared her throat, motioned around the room. “I’ll ask someone if there is somehwere we could send it. Thinking of others in our time of grief, it’s a good look.” She could hear herself plotting and regretted it but it was all she wad capable of. Celia let go of the cot and moved to hold him, her arms around his shoulders, her mouth at his ear. “We’ll get through this. I think it was meant to be this way; just the two of us.” She almost said she preferred it this way but that felt too harsh; too soon. “If you need to talk to someone, perhaps you should? Better to deal with it now then have it drag out.”

When she pulled back, she held onto his face, more tired than she had seen it in a long time and she knew she was getting it all wrong. Cee, who always knew what to say, had nothing. So she kissed him instead and tried, probably failing, to put more into it than she could manage. The key phrase however was, I’m sorry. Sorry she’s not a good wife, sorry their child died and she’s talking about press opportunities, sorry he got his hopes up, sorry nothing will come of this.

IV.

“--THE PRESS ASSOCIATION IS REPORTING MULTIPLE CASUALTIES AND UNCONFIRMED FATALITIES JUST OUTSIDE THE HOUSE OF COMMONS--”

“Sydney, turn that up, turn that up!”

The TV’s picture, perched on top of a filing cabinet only offered shaky phone camera footage of the street Celia knew well. In fact, with one of the sudden movements upward, she was sure she could see Seb’s office window. The clipped tones of the BBC new anchor filled the room.

“--IS UNDERSTOOD THAT THE LONE MAN DROVE INTO A CROWD OF PEOPLE OUTSIDE PALACE OF WESTMINSTER AND THEN CONTINUED ON FOOT, WHERE HE BEGAN STABBING--”

“Call my husband, call him now, his mobile.”

Celia is already pulling on her jacket, eyes glued to the TV but listening out for the rings. By the third ring, she’s heading to the door. Usually, no rings meant he was in a meeting; the phone was on don’t disturb and she’d have to call back another two times for it to even go through; something she hadn’t ever had to do yet. If he was talking with someone, briefly, he would hang up after one ring. Past three rings, with no pick up? She didn’t remember the last time.

“Cee, you shouldn’t go into--” Syd stood up behind her desk but Cee held up a hand.

“Text me if there are any updates worth knowing. Call him again, keep calling him.”

There was no point trying to get a taxi, if there really was a terrorist attack happening in the middle of the city, it would be gridlock and the police wouldn’t be letting anyone in any way. So she would walk the twenty minutes to Seb’s office; she could cut it down to fourteen minutes if she kept up her brisk walk, ocassiaonlly, if panic set in, a restrained run.

Police tape, camera crews, ambulances and armed police officers surrounded most parliamentary buildings. The end of street was cordoned off but from her vantage point, she could see at least three sheets covering bodies. It was ridiculous to imagine Seb under one of them but it’s exactly where her mind went. She couldn’t explain it, not even to herself but she’d had a nagging feeling all day that something terrible was gong to happen, not just this, in London, but to her personally. She stares, unseeing at one of the sheets before a voice drifts across to her, one of the offers. “--Moran is going to--”

“What did you say?” She barks at him and a man seems to used to follow commands to argue with her, although she seems to have also scared him. “What did you say about Moran?”

Sheepishly, he draws closer. “Only that Mr Moran was directing his staff to--”

“To where?” Of course, of course, he’s alive. “Where is he?”

“I think they were going to Lady Chapel,” and then, as an afterthought, “ma’am.”

Celia didn’t hang around any longer that she needed to. She didn’t know why she ran this time, heels hitting the pavement with an ungodly amount of noise. If Seb was well enough to be directing people somewhere, there was no real need to worry. But something had shaken her when she had heard the news. It was the first time she had really considered what it might be like if Seb did die. They had been partners, in one way or another, for nearly fifteen years and all her future plans and hopes were pinned upon him.

She rounded the corner and stopped to catch her breath, smooth out her coat, look less worried. When she looked up, she saw him immediately; standing by the church’s doors, talking seriously with a police chief. He only glanced in her direction and had to do a double-take.

“What are you doing here?” Seb asked, moving over to her.

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Annoyingly, she’s still breathless.

“Bit of an emergency. Did you run?”

Maybe to avoid the embarrassing question, maybe because she was so relieved to see him standing, she threw her arms around him and kissed him, with slightly more passion than normal. She couldn’t say for sure, but she thought Seb kissed her back with a matched ferocity and held her a little tight than normal too. Maybe he was glad to see her too.

#terrorist attack --#epiitaphs #( i. message )#child death --

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lennydaisy · 4 years

Text

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER TWO.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks Season 1- FEM OC! and ?

Here is the link to Chapter One if you have read it already <3 Check it out!!

'I'm going to kill that rooster.'

Slapping a hand over my eyes, my vision red with the suns early morning rays, my ears ringing at the excisive cockerel, refusing to accept the fact that I'm already awake. The gentle patter of feet creaking against the uneven floorboards causes me to roll on my side, grabbing what I'm assuming is my pillow.

Why is my pillow so... boney? And retracting against my grip.

Oh well.

"May," I hear someone croak, not having the energy to reply I just hum, pulling my pillow closer to me, "May, stop that tickles," they let out in a breathy voice.

Scrunching my eyebrows together, 'why's my pillow talking?' I open one eye in confusion at the voice and that's when I realised I wasn't in my room, in my bed. No. I was on the couch and the pillow that I thought I was holding so dearly happened to be JJ's foot.

I let out a shriek at the sight of JJ's toes being in such close quarters with my face, causing the boy to jump slightly, kicking me in the nose, knocking me off the couch, smashing face-first against the floor, "Ouch."

"I don't want to know how you manage that," the toneless voice of John B echos through the room. Stepping over the heap that is my body, he slaps JJ's leg, "Yo, JJ, you been outside?"

"I have polio, bro. I can't walk," he grunted, voice muffled against his pillow.

Hearing John B's steps fade away, as a whip of wind squeezes through the gapping door, shaking a shiver down my spine.

I refuse to get up. I refuse. I live here now. On the floor. The hard and cold floorboards. This is my home now. Do you need me? You know where I'll be. On the ground. Where I belong-

"Ouch," I wince, the air being knocked out my lungs as a pair of feet stump down on my back, quickly retracting at the sound of my pain. "What are you doing on the floor?" I hear JJ ask, but I refuse to look at him or give him a proper answer, just huffing and grunting.

"Come one May, get up," I hear JJ say, tapping my head lightly before another wave of goosebumps run up my arms as the door bounced close again. Leaving me in a heap of self-pity, on the ground, with a 'broken' nose.

Cursing under my breath, I push myself to my feet, instantly feeling a rush of heat in my nose. Huffing, I stuff tissue up my bleeding nostril, staring at my dishevelled appearance in disgust. I attempt to flatting the creases in my shirt and brush my fingers through the bird's nest on my head before heading outside.

'Dang, Aggie did us a number,' I thought looking around our mess of a garden. The big oak tree now laid haphazardly across the grass being ripped out by the roots. Our trash cans are nowhere to be seen and I'm pretty sure that's our neighbour's dog house smashed to piece beside John B's van.

"What about the DCS? Wasn't that today?" I hear JJ ask my brother who is currently rummaging through the fallen branches that the storm blow onto the boat. Walking closer to the boys, John B replies, "Nah, they're not gettin' on a ferry" shaking his head.

"Thank god," I say, cringing at how nasally my voice sounds, tiptoeing around the puddles burrowing in the grass. "What happened to your face?" John B sniggers, making me point accusingly at our blonde friend, "Ask him."

"Hey, don't blame me," holding his hands up in defence, laughing slightly at my current state, but I don't find it very funny, especially this early in the morning, "Oh, so what, you didn’t kick me in the face?"

"It was an accident."

"An accident won't fix my broken nose."

"Okay, you're nose isn't broken."

"How do you know? Want me to kick you in the face and-"

"Guys!" John B yells, interrupting us from going any further, "We don't have time for this, God is telling us to fish."

Shaking my head at his attempt to reason, "I'm not fishing with a broken nose," I say, my toes curling in the damp grass. JJ lets out a sound of exhaustion, "Oh my God, May. Your nose is fine."

"See he still hasn't said sorry," Pointing at the boy who dares to belittle my swollen nose.

Having enough of us, "JJ, say sorry," John B sighs, jumping down from the boat. JJ whips around staring at his friend, mouth gaping like a fish as a smug smile creeps it's on my face, happy that John B is actually on my side, "Macy, you say sorry too."

Wait. What!

My previous stance of bouncing on the balls of my feet waiting expectingly for an apologize quickly changed to me mimicking JJ, "What, why?" I gape, not understanding why I should be sorry.

"JJ, apologize for kicking Macy, " John B starts as JJ tries to interrupt him, "But-" quickly catching his tongue at the dangerous look John B sends his way, "And Macy, apologize for being a diva," this time I interrupt, "But-".

"Now please!" he demands, walking past us, making his way up to the Château, "I'd like to go fish today," slamming the door behind him for emphasis. And with that, it was just me and JJ.

I looked out at the marsh, refusing to look at the boy who was leaning against the boat with his arms crossed over his chest. It was quite a nice day. Perfect fishing weather. Shaking my head at my antics, I gave in, "I'm sorry," we both said.

Looking at each other in surprise, lightly laughing as I stick my hand out for him to take, "Shake on it?" I ask JJ who looks at my hand with amusing eyes, "Sure," clasping his hand around mine giving it a firm but soft shake.

Nodding, pleased with our transaction, I go to move back, pulling my hand indicating him to let go. He doesn't. Blinking at him, I try to pull my hand away again but he's not letting up, just staring at me before pulling me towards him, rubbing his knuckles against my head.

"Ow, JJ" I shriek trying to escape his arm that is wrapped tightly around my shoulder, "You know I hate knuckies," I plead as he just laughs eventually releasing me. Smirking at my tangled hair, he attempts to smooth out the knots with his fingers, "Come on May, let's go fishing."

The Outer Banks is no stranger when it comes to storms, having a hand full of them each year. It's always the same; sunken boats, eroding docks, fallen trees, and no power for weeks. Aggie made it her duty to make the beginning for summer a doozy, having no remorse on her destruction.

"We'll be cleaning this all summer," I point out sitting at the bow of the boat, feet dangling just above the murky marsh. "That's my worse nightmare," John B complains, sailing us past the docks that are filled with locals cleaning up the mess.

'Is that? It can't be. She everywhere!'

"Morning, Miss Amy, Mrs Adams," John B greets, slowing down as we pass the two ladies who are sweeping up the dock, "You guys get through it?" he asks politely.

I look in the opposite direction of the pair, refusing to acknowledge her presence as I lay on my back, hoping that the boat will just suck me in and away from this interaction.

"Still here," I hear Miss Amy, Mrs Adams daughter, say. I know, if it was hard enough to believe that Mrs Adams was married, her having children sounds ludicrous.

"Oh John B, how's your neck of the woods? Everything good?" I wanted to gag at her act. She always tries to turn on her sweet, old lady charm when it comes to John B, always kissing up to him, but he’s so blinded by her words that he refuses to acknowledge the fact that she's evil.

"And JJ, my sweet boy, how are you?"

'God, if you're out there, I know you can hear me. Please, I'm not asking for much, just get me out of here. Please! Have some mercy on my soul.'

"I'm good Mrs Adams. You're looking dazzling as always," JJ comments as I whisper, "Give me a break," under my breath.

I didn't even have to look to know her reaction. She probably fanning herself with her hand, begging the boy to stop, but secretly hoping that he'll jump off the boat and into her arms, "Please JJ, you're too much," and that just confirmed it.

"Mason and I have our work put out for us, but we'll get by," John B answers and Mrs Adams pretends to have just noticed me despite our, not at all warranted, proximity, "Oh Mason, I didn't even see you there, dear."

This is what Mrs Adams does. She acts all innocent around other people but when it's just me and her, she turns into the spawn of satan. And that why nobody believes when I say she hates my guts because she turns on the charm like it's her second job.

Having to face the music, I sit up, against my better judgement, and smile brightly at the lady, "Hi, Mrs Adams, still in one piece I see."

Unfortunately.

"Yes," she smiles back, but I see that look in her eyes, the look of hatred, "It would take more than a hurricane to knock me off my feet," she laughs at her joke and I mimic her.

Feeling the tension in the air, John B clears his throat, "Well, it was lovely talking to you ladies, but we have to go now," he announces, the boat picking up speed in hopes of breaking the glaring eyes that Mrs Adams and I are exchanging.

Shaking her head slightly, she smiles at my brother, "Have a lovely day John B. You too JJ, see you later," she waves and instantly resumes back to sweeping the dock with her daughter who sends a look my way, silently apologising for her mothers behaviour.

"God May, why are you so rude to Mrs Adams?"

"She nothing but a sweet old lady."

Spinning around to face the boys, my voice not wavering, "She's the devil incarnate," I deadpan, "It's not a coincidence that her name is Agatha, and storm Agatha just ruined our summer. She had something to do with it, I know it."

"Devil incarnate or not, her daughters hot," JJ gushes at the thought of Miss Amy. Seeing my face wrinkled in disgust he continues, "What? Did you not see the way she looked at me?"

"I see how delusion you are," I admit, innocently ginning at the boy who flips me off, "I'm not the one fraternising with the enemy," I defend, finding it frankly unnerving that he is so opinionated about Miss Amy.

"Your enemy is just shy of retirement."

"Not shy enough."

"Well, look who we have here," John B states as we pass 'Heywards Seafood' spotting Pope hosing down the deck with the saddest face I've ever seen, "We have a safety meeting. Attendance mandatory," mimicking static as he speaking into his shoulder.

"I can't," Pope says looking at his Dad who's making his way over, a scowl painted on his face at the sight of his son's friends, "Pops got me on lockdown."

"Come on man. Your dads a pussy. Over," JJ smirks seeing the man in question standing behind Pope, "Oh, I heard that, you little bastard," he insults, staring the boy down.

"Hey, Mr Heyward," I greet now standing, giggling at the man hostility, "We need your son."

"Yeah, island rules," JJ starts, now standing beside me, "Day after a hurricane a free day," he points out like its obvious. "And who made that up?" Mr Heyward conspires, looking at the boy expectingly.

"JJ," I nod at the man, the same time as JJ says, "The Pentagon," earning me a look from the blonde.

Out the corner of my eye, I see John B edging Pope on the boat trying to not get caught by the boy's hot-headed father.

Mr Heyward has had no problem voicing his distaste for his son's friends. To use his words, we're 'A bunch of good for nothing, sons of bitches, who are ruining his son's image'. What Mr Heyward refuses to believe, despite the fact that he has most likely noticed it himself, is that his peculiar son is a Pogue just like the rest of us.

"I have a card," JJ fishes through his pockets looking for a card that everyone knows he does have, but in his attempt to distract Pope dad he's putting on his best act.

As soon as Pope step foot on the boat, after quickly dumping the hose that is now shaking and spraying wildly over the dock, John B hastily hit the gas, leaving the boy's dad on his lonesome.

"I'll do it tomorrow," Pope tries to reason, but his dad is having no of it, "I'm sorry," he apologizes to his dad, who is shouting in the distance, "You'll be cleaning shrimp and your dirt-ass room."

"We'll bring your son back in one piece," I promise the man who just points accussingly at me, steam coming out of his ears, "We've fallen out Mason."

'That's it. My one true friend is gone, just like that. I only stole his son, what's the big deal?' I thought.

Rushing over to Pope who is now sitting where I previously sat, "Can you please tell your dad that I'm sorry," I beg sitting beside him as I attempt my best puppy dog eyes.

With his hand clasped over my knee, "It's too late. We're both blacklisted now," sorrow filling his voice as I pretend to cry, "I can't believe it. I'm now in the same category as those two," I point at my mess of a brother and best friends who are wrestling each other over the controls of the boat.

"Kie's our only hope," Pope admits, looking upon the disgrace that he has the pleasure of calling his friends.

"Ask and she shall come,” I smile, noticing Kie walking down the dock, cooler in hand.

"Oh, top o' the mornin' to ya," JJ greets, giving up on his attack against John B, now lounging against the side of the boat, "Morning boys. Macy."

"Ma Lady," I joke, holding out my hand for her, that she graciously takes. Stepping onto the boat, she dumps the cooler in between me and Pope, "Whatcha got? Some juice boxes?" asks Pope, opening up the cooler.

"Some Reese's Cups since you ate all mine?" I question, raiding through the cooler, seeing no Reese's Cups but plenty bottles of beer. My comment earns me a sharp flick on the ear, "Ouch," I complain, holding my the side of my head like it's going to fall off.

"Oh give up, you big baby," she laughs, nudging my legs apart, settling herself in the space between, leaning her back comfortably against my chest.

Normally I wouldn't mind, but the wind that is whipping its way up the marsh is blowing Kie hair into my face. I splutter and spit as strands fly into my mouth, slapping my hand around in hopes of regaining my vision that is being blocked by her mop of hair.

"What about my type of Juice box?" JJ asks, grinning triumphantly when Kie hands him a beer, "Skoal," he cheers, wasting no time in chugging the bottle.

Reaching back, Kie hands me one, but I shake my head, "Can't. I'm babysitting Wheezie this afternoon," I point out, making Kie pull a face, disappointment lacing her voice, "I can't believe you willing work for Sarah Cameron's dad."

If it hasn't been made obvious, Kie doesn't like Sarah Cameron, my bosses oldest daughter. Doesn't like is putting it lightly, she hates her guts. That about right. You see Kie being partly Kook caused her to try and make Kook friends and one of those friends use to be Sarah Cameron. I'm the only one that knows why she hates her so much and honestly her opinion's valid.

"He works for her dad too," I point at my brother, not wanting to be the only one under Kie's fire. John B just holds his hands up defensively and states, "I'm not a part of this," before passing the controls of the boat to Pope, seeing as though he wants to drink after the tough couple of days we've had.

"I know what will cheer everyone up," slurs an already drunk JJ, "Hey Pope. Can you go a little faster?" He asks, stumbling his way to the front of the boat on wobbly legs.

"This doesn't work," John B calls out from his lounging position at the back of the boat, taking a swig of his beer as he looks upon the determined blonde, "We've tried this like 6,000 times."

"I've got this. It's gonna work," he believes and I encourage him, even with the linger of doubt that can be heard in my voice, "You prove them wrong, JJ."

He begins to clap for himself, taking his position unevenly at the edge of the boat, "I present to you, Lady, Gentlemen, and May, my party trick."

"I hope you fall off the boat," I deadpan, my previous support completely gone after his comment. Tilting the bottle that he held high, he attempts to finesse the winds to direct the liquid into his wide mouth. Ultimately missing just like all the times before.

Kie rushes away from the splash zone that has been made with JJ's party trick, "You're getting beer in my hair," she complains moving to sit beside John B.

His face was now stiff with sticky beer, but JJ didn't care. He was having fun, enjoying the feeling of the early morning sun looking down on him as the wind blows through his hair. I'm having fun too. Watching his stupid ass attempt his flawed party trick is very entertaining.

Getting ready to applaud his failure, I'm harshly launched forward as the boat comes to an abrupt stop. Slamming my back against the side of the boat, winding me as I begin to see double. The world was spinning, my ears ringing from the force whilest the rest of my bodt erupts into painful tingles.

"Everybody alright," I cough, rubbing my head, looking at my friends who are all laying sporadically over the boat, feeling the same ache that I am. Only having the energy to grunt, Kie cries, "Jesus, Pope!"

Noticing the lack of a certain opinionated blonde, I crawl to the bow of the boat, losing balance as my head throbs, "JJ!" I call looking out into the marsh catching no sight of the boy.

"JJ!" Still nothing. Not even a ripple in the water.

"I didn't mean it when I said I wanted you to fall off the boat, you just annoyed me with you stupid comment, I didn't-" my apologetic ramble halting when JJ's head floats above the water, chocking on the warm marsh water as he groans out in pain.

Breathing in relief, "Are you okay?" I ask, feeling bad for the boy who just bodyslammed into next week, "I think my heels touched the back of my head," he coughs, floating on his back with his eyes squished shut.

"Pope, what did you do?" JJ cries at the boy. "Sandbar. The channel changed," he replies, but his eyes are glued to the water, not paying his full attention to his friend who he just threw a mile.

"Yeah, no shit," he starts swimming back to the boat, "Saved my beer, though," he cheers, seeing the light in his situation. Nobody else seems to care though. John B grunting, still in pain from his fall, "Congrats, JJ."

Pope's quietness was unsettling to me, normal never missing a beat at throwing a jab at JJ. Instead, he was staring sternly at the marsh. Clasping my hand on his shoulder, I hope to gain his attention, but his eyes didn't waver, "Hey, you okay?" I ask, thinking he was shaken up from the sudden crash.

"You see the boat too, right?" he points my eyes in the direction of the murky water. Leaning forward, I see what has Pope so confused. There was, in fact, a boat, a sunken boat, at the pit of the marsh, "Yeah," was all I could say, head tilted at the bizarre finding.

"Guys... there's a boat down there," he announces, still not moving as he calls out to our friends.

"Shut up, Pope," John B lets out a breathy laugh that I shake my head at. "No, he's serious. Look," I point at the obvious outline of a boat.

"Holy shit," Kie curses, releasing he was telling the truth, "He's right. Let's go," throwing off her shorts, diving in beside her concussed friend, John B following soon after.

"You think there's a dead body down there?" Pope wonders, teeth chattering at the thought. Humming and hawing at his question, I kick off my short saying, "Only one way to find out," pushing the reluctant boy off the boat before jumping in myself.

I don't know exactly what I was supposed to be looking for. A dead body? No thanks. I rather not have that image imprinted in my brain. What I did notice though, in between the disgusting floaters in the water, was that the boat looked in great condition. Its paint job was near to new, meaning it couldn't have been down under for too long.

This might have just happened. And judging by the lack of sealife that usually takes refuge in sunken wrecks it probably did.

Also, it looked as though it was a Grady white which is confusing. Those things are about $500 thousand minimum, you know, pocket money for a Kook. But if this was a Kooks boat, why haven't I heard their arrogant asses complaining about their boat sinking?

Laughing when we reach the surface again, breathing in big gulps of air that sting my lungs slightly, "You guys saw that, right?" JJ asks as we pull ourselves back on the boat.

"That was a Grady White," I confirm our assumptions, ringing my hair out over the side of the boat, "Yeah. That's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge," John B confesses breathlessly.

"You did what?"

"You surfed the surge?"

"That's my boy. Pogue style," JJ cheers, patting my brother on the back, congratulating him for his stupidity.

"Hey, I think you dropped this," I sympathise, pretending to pick something up off the deck. John B looks at me confused, eyes darting around the floor, looking for the whatever it was I was suggesting, "Dropped what?"

Seeing my opportunity, I clipped him on the back of the head, my brother instantly darting back up straight, hissing, holding the back of his head, "Your common sense, you moron. What the hell were you think? Oh right. You clearly weren't since you surfed the surge!"

"Chill Macy. I'm fine, nothing happened," he says attempting to calm me down but it wasn't working, "Beside Pope was with me too," he throws his friends under the bus trying to defend himself.

Turning around to a now sheepish Pope, "Okay I expected it from him," pointing accusingly at my brother who looks insulted, "But you Pope..." I try to hide the disappointment that I'm feeling.

"Okay May, don't guilt-trip the boy," JJ buts in, throwing his arm around my shoulder for comfort, but nothing was comforting about what he said next, "And you can't deny, what they did was pretty cool."

Scoffing, I shove his arm off me and settle myself at the back of the boat, arms crossed over my chest. I can't believe they would be so... so irresponsible. There was a hurricane and they somehow thought that it would be smart to go surfing? Thankfully nothing happened, but that's not the point. They didn't know that. One wrong move and- I don't even want to think about it.

"Wait, wait. Do we even know whose boat that is?" Pope asks, watching as John B pulls out the anchor, "No, but we're about to find out," he smiles cheeckly, not even giving a second thought to what he’s about to do.

"Dude, it's too deep," JJ says, being the voice of reason for a change, but I show no interest at all. I'm done. If John B wants to be stupid and reckless, then he can be: stupid and reckless.

"Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ," John B points out, heading to the bow of the boat, rusty anchor in hand, his confidence clearly high, "Well, I'm not resuscitating you. I'm just making that clear up front," JJ holds out his hands, moving back, making way for my moron of a brother.

"That's fine." John B replies not even giving it a second thought as he hold the anchor tightly to this chest. Preparing himself for his descend down to the wreck.

Looking back at my slumping figure that is radiating discomfort at this whole situation, "John B," Kie exhales, shaking her head at the boy, coming to sit beside me. She pulls my head to rest on her shoulder and tightly clasps my hand in hers.

"Diver down, fool," Fool's an understatement.

"Diver down."

"Yeah, he is," JJ declares, shoving John B into the marsh once more.

Looking down at our hands, I ask Kie, "Do you think I exaggerated?" Beginning to feel the dwelling of my words, moisture gathering behind my eyes.

I completely blow up in his face without letting him explain himself. Not that there was much to explain, but God I suck.

As subtle as possible, I try to wipe my nose with the back of my hand, but Kie noticed. Kie notices everything. Turning, she clamps both hands on my cheeks, urging me to look at her. "No. Macy, your feelings are completely valid," she reassures, using the pad her thumbs to wipe away the streaks that travel down my face.

"He's your twin brother for crying out loud. You're allowed to feel protective of him and call him out on his bullshit."

Smiling at her comment, I wrap my arms around her, "Thank you," I mumble, not even sure if it was audible enough for her to hear, but she did. "Don't thank me, Macy. We're family, remember? Pogues for life," she states pulling away, holding the pad of her thumb up, and I do the same, stamping them together as though sealing our words.

Giggling at our antics, I turn to the boy who I dragged into this, "Hey Pope," I called, catching his attention from watching the water, "I'm sorry for blowing up on you," I apologize and hold my hand up when I see him going to object, "It was completely unwarranted and uncool."

"It's not that big of a deal, but I accept your apology," he beams pulling up from my seat for a quick side hug. Grinning at the boy, I feel as though a weight has just been lifted off my shoulders, even though I know he just accepted my apology because he knew it would set my worries at ease. I acted stupid and I relise that now.

Nevertheless, our peaceful moment of forgiveness sunk faster than that Grady White as JJ voices his opinion.

"Okay, now I feel left out. Where's my hug?" He whines with that shit-eating grin across his face. He opens his arms wide with wriggling fingers, eyes sealed close as he waits for an embrace. I know he was excepting a quick-witted comment from me with the way he is exaggerating his movements, but it’s only fair.

The shock on his face must be quite the picture, hearing Kie and Pope snort from behind me. I'm in a good mood today so, wrapping my arms around the boy's torso tightly felt right. I wait patiently for him to reciprocate the affection, but based on the stark shock that I felt shot up his back, he was startled by the sudden warmth of my hug.

For a second, I swear I felt him relax and sink into my embrace. The sensation of his fingertips ghosting over my back causes the hair on my arms to stand on end. My body erupting into a cluster of goosebumps.

As already stated, peaceful moments don't last very long in the Outer Banks.

John B, like a whale, bursts through the tension of the water and splutters, spitting the salty flavour of the marsh off his tongue.

Feeling vulnerable with the new pair of eyes, JJ and I rip apart in fright, standing a good distance away from each other.

Hoping to look as inconspicuous as possible, I rub the back of my burning neck, coughing lightly as I watch John B haul himself back on the boat.

Noticing the thick tension in the air, John B spins around glancing at all his friends, "What's up?" he asks, not understanding why we were standing in silence.

"Nothing," I say shaking my head, instant cringing at the pitch of my voice. Clearing my throat, I try again, "Why would something be up?" acting naturally, answering his question with a question.

Eye flicking back and forward, "I dunno," John B's voice laced with uncertainty, "You looking a little red there, JJ," he points out causing Kie to wheeze at her friend who does, in fact, have a pink tinge crawling up his neck.

Running his hands through his damp hair, hating the attention that is one him, he asks John B, "Any looting potential?" hoping to change the subject and it works.

Pope throws in his pennies worth, "Dead bodies?" he ask earning a look from all of us, "What?" holding his hands up in defence under the stares, not understanding what warranted him the looks.

"You're obsessed," I state the obvious observing the strange boy who just slumps back in disappointment.

"No," John B points at Pope, triggering his disappointment even more, and turn to JJ saying, "Kinda," holding up whatever he fished from the sunken boat, "I found this motel key."

"A key?"

"Great! We salvaged a motel key."

"I think it's a great find," I cheer, my voice straining with enthusiasm for my brothers find, patting him lightly on the back, but he saw right through me, "I've already forgiven you. You don't need to suck up," he points out, referring to early.

"Thank god," I let out in relief, sitting slouched on the side of the boat, now feeling confident enough to voice my real opinion, "What are we going to do with a motel key?"

Having enough for the day, wanting nothing more than to just get back to land and as far away from the expensive wreck as possible. Pope switches the engine back on and drives back in the direction of the cut.

"Guys," Kie calls over the roaring engine, "We should report the wreck to the coast guard. Maybe we'll get a finder's fee" she suggests, her head obviously in the right place.

"Yeah, and not have to work all summer," concludes JJ, dreaming of the money that we'll recieve for our finding, "Thanks, Agatha, ya batch."

Oh yeah.

Work.

Chapter two: FIN!

I really didn’t know when to end this chapter, but I hope this was okay :) I’m really trying to convey Mason’s character through her interactions with other people. Like how she got upset at John B for acting stupid.

What did you think?

Am I going to slow? Is my slow-burn too slow-burn?? I’m only 15 minutes into writing episode one. Have I dragged it?? I hope not. I enjoy detailed fanfiction because it feels more real.

I also don’t want Mason to just be there, not really having any input so, some of the show’s dialogue has changed and I will continue to do so. I want her to be her own person, with her own differing opinions.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3

Also, if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx

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