#they get married around 25

[ygodmyy20]

Day 7: Happy Birthday, Teru.

Reference: https://i0.wp.com/img.screencaps.us/202/3-nimona/full/nimona-animationscreencaps.com-467.jpg?ssl=1

I have wanted to draw this pose ever since I saw the movie. This was the perfect opportunity. I really wanted to draw something that made me feel calm and happy. This is the result.

A little extra snippet for everyone as well. Enjoy!

--

Soft heels pad across a midnight-cast rooftop, the loud boisterous sounds of the party fading into the background like sun setting below the horizon.

The air is moist and thick with spring-time mildew. It sticks to the ground, making everything wet, and layering the world in a slight chill.

The pair sit down on the edge of the rooftop and the taller of the two smiles. "Thanks for stepping away from your own party for me," he says, fingers playing with a brightly colored gift in his lap.

A wave of a hand and a snort, "You know I never mind Shige. Besides," he leans foreword, eyeing the gift with sparkling blue eyes, "I see you have something for me~?"

Shigeo nods and passes the gift over, the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement, but barely visible in the dark blue of midnight. "I do. Happy Birthday, Teru," he leans over, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

Teru (even after all these years) blushes, waving his hands up and down as he takes the gift. "Ahh stop it you!" He places the gift in his lap, blue eyes softening. He stares down at it and then tilts his head up, looking out at the night sky in front of them.

After a few more seconds of pause, he finally says, "You know. If it's okay... can I open it later?"

"Of course. You probably know what it is anyway, you did give me a list."

A boisterous laugh escapes his lips, which then slides like melting ice into a soft smile. He sets the gift to the side and scoots closer, intertwining their hands as he nestles his head on his husbands shoulder. "Honestly... I love parties, but I love just sitting here with you just as much. It's a really beautiful night."

Shigeo tilts his head down, rubbing his face into blonde hair. "Mmm. I like it too."

A breeze picks up, ruffling their clothes, the scent of wet concrete tickling their noses. Cars drive past below, rumbling in and out of sight.

Even deep in the city, the sounds of crickets in a nearby park float aimlessly through the breeze, filling the edges of the sounds.

The tranquility is broken by thumping footsteps and a door swinging open loudly, startling to two as they turn towards the sound.

"Birthday Boy!!" Shou yells, "Stop smooching and get down here for you cake!!"

Teru glares, "Shou, I was just enjoying a moment, how do you always know when to ruin it..."

A shrug, "Eh, I just have amazing timing like that."

Ritsu also pops his head out the door, hand already on Shou's collar, "I can give you guys 10 minutes, but if you don't come down by then this," he shakes Shou, "is going to eat your cake."

Shigeo lets out a breathy laugh, "Thanks Ritsu. We'll be back down soon."

Ritsu nods, pulling Shou away as the other yelps in frustration.

Teru tries to keep on his annoyed face but it dissolves into a cracked smile as he leans back into Shigeo's shoulder. "He's such a dork."

Shigeo answers with a hum, pressing close.

Even in the city, the stars are visible, dancing above them in a quiet hum. A far off symphony that they cannot hear but the light sings like strings reverberating through the night. Mixing with the low drone of the city, an ambient tranquility that rests light on their shoulders.

Shigeo squeezes their intertwined fingers. "Happy Birthday, Teru."

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Older Max and Maggie get platonically married and no one knows about it until Nova invites them to her and Adrian's wedding only to find out her sister got married before her

Cue flabbergasted Nodrian

[non-un-topo]

Should I see a therapist for my unexplained contempt for my Heterosexual Family Members and their wedding planning and their baby-craziness y/n?

[dialux]

asljfhljglhfg okay white guy

[echofromtheabyss]

I feel like I got to experience some dating customs that were the dying-off edge of postwar hetero dating culture. Largely because while I was 15-16, I was dating older Gen Xrs who had cars. Gen X guys in my own age group wouldn't even have this same cultural access once they reached that age.

It changed rapidly - if you weren't yourself born before 1971 or so and or dating someone about 5 years older as of the 90s then you were not going to have this experience. Basically, Upper Half Gen X (born late 60s to very early 70s) had a dating culture that had more in common with their parents' 1950s-60s dating culture, than it would with Lower Half Gen X.

Postwar white middle class hetero dating culture actually involved dinner and a movie and assumed that the young man had a car. It also assumed a certain amount of disposable income on the part of people in their late teens/early 20s. Which for a young man, could come from a part time job.

Lower Half Gen X dating culture (in daters the same age as the Upper Half Gen X daters, a few years later) was very different - in short, what dating culture? Dating was too much of a commitment. It seemed like daters in this set, unless they were in fairly traditionalist social worlds, tried everything they could to avoid the appearance of courtship. There was a lot of FWB just as a general norm.

A big difference though is that male-female platonic friendship in many spaces was relatively normalized, in ways it had never been before.

[fingertipsmp3]

Sentence that just left my mouth: “he’s married?!?! WHO GETS MARRIED”

[yeoldenews]

A Guide to Historically Accurate Regency-Era Names

I recently received a message from a historical romance writer asking if I knew any good resources for finding historically accurate Regency-era names for their characters.

Not knowing any off the top of my head, I dug around online a bit and found there really isn’t much out there. The vast majority of search results were Buzzfeed-style listicles which range from accurate-adjacent to really, really, really bad.

I did find a few blog posts with fairly decent name lists, but noticed that even these have very little indication as to each name’s relative popularity as those statistical breakdowns really don't exist.

I began writing up a response with this information, but then I (being a research addict who was currently snowed in after a blizzard) thought hey - if there aren’t any good resources out there why not make one myself?

As I lacked any compiled data to work from, I had to do my own data wrangling on this project. Due to this fact, I limited the scope to what I thought would be the most useful for writers who focus on this era, namely - people of a marriageable age living in the wealthiest areas of London.

So with this in mind - I went through period records and compiled the names of 25,000 couples who were married in the City of Westminster (which includes Mayfair, St. James and Hyde Park) between 1804 to 1821.

So let’s see what all that data tells us…

To begin - I think it’s hard for us in the modern world with our wide and varied abundance of first names to conceive of just how POPULAR popular names of the past were.

If you were to take a modern sample of 25-year-old (born in 1998) American women, the most common name would be Emily with 1.35% of the total population. If you were to add the next four most popular names (Hannah, Samantha, Sarah and Ashley) these top five names would bring you to 5.5% of the total population. (source: Social Security Administration)

If you were to do the same survey in Regency London - the most common name would be Mary with 19.2% of the population. Add the next four most popular names (Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah and Jane) and with just 5 names you would have covered 62% of all women.

To hit 62% of the population in the modern survey it would take the top 400 names.

The top five Regency men’s names (John, William, Thomas, James and George) have nearly identical statistics as the women’s names.

I struggled for the better part of a week with how to present my findings, as a big list in alphabetical order really fails to get across the popularity factor and also isn’t the most tumblr-compatible format. And then my YouTube homepage recommended a random video of someone ranking all the books they’d read last year - and so I present…

The Regency Name Popularity Tier List

The Tiers

S+ - 10% of the population or greater. There is no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. 52% of the population had one of these 7 names.

S - 2-10%. There is still no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. Names in this percentage range in the past have included Mary and William in the 1880s and Jennifer in the late 1970s (topped out at 4%).

A - 1-2%. The top five modern names usually fall in this range. Kids with these names would probably include their last initial in class to avoid confusion. (1998 examples: Emily, Sarah, Ashley, Michael, Christopher, Brandon.)

B - .3-1%. Very common names. Would fall in the top 50 modern names. You would most likely know at least 1 person with these names. (1998 examples: Jessica, Megan, Allison, Justin, Ryan, Eric)

C - .17-.3%. Common names. Would fall in the modern top 100. You would probably know someone with these names, or at least know of them. (1998 examples: Chloe, Grace, Vanessa, Sean, Spencer, Seth)

D - .06-.17%. Less common names. In the modern top 250. You may not personally know someone with these names, but you’re aware of them. (1998 examples: Faith, Cassidy, Summer, Griffin, Dustin, Colby)

E - .02-.06%. Uncommon names. You’re aware these are names, but they are not common. Unusual enough they may be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Calista, Skye, Precious, Fabian, Justice, Lorenzo)

F - .01-.02%. Rare names. You may have heard of these names, but you probably don’t know anyone with one. Extremely unusual, and would likely be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Emerald, Lourdes, Serenity, Dario, Tavian, Adonis)

G - Very rare names. There are only a handful of people with these names in the entire country. You’ve never met anyone with this name.

H - Virtually non-existent. Names that theoretically could have existed in the Regency period (their original source pre-dates the early 19th century) but I found fewer than five (and often no) period examples of them being used in Regency England. (Example names taken from romance novels and online Regency name lists.)

Just to once again reinforce how POPULAR popular names were before we get to the tier lists - statistically, in a ballroom of 100 people in Regency London: 80 would have names from tiers S+/S. An additional 15 people would have names from tiers A/B and C. 4 of the remaining 5 would have names from D/E. Only one would have a name from below tier E.

Women's Names

S+ Mary, Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah      

S - Jane, Mary Ann+, Hannah, Susannah, Margaret, Catherine, Martha, Charlotte, Maria

A - Frances, Harriet, Sophia, Eleanor, Rebecca

B - Alice, Amelia, Bridget~, Caroline, Eliza, Esther, Isabella, Louisa, Lucy, Lydia, Phoebe, Rachel, Susan

C - Ellen, Fanny*, Grace, Henrietta, Hester, Jemima, Matilda, Priscilla

D - Abigail, Agnes, Amy, Augusta, Barbara, Betsy*, Betty*, Cecilia, Christiana, Clarissa, Deborah, Diana, Dinah, Dorothy, Emily, Emma, Georgiana, Helen, Janet^, Joanna, Johanna, Judith, Julia, Kezia, Kitty*, Letitia, Nancy*, Ruth, Winifred>

E - Arabella, Celia, Charity, Clara, Cordelia, Dorcas, Eve, Georgina, Honor, Honora, Jennet^, Jessie*^, Joan, Joyce, Juliana, Juliet, Lavinia, Leah, Margery, Marian, Marianne, Marie, Mercy, Miriam, Naomi, Patience, Penelope, Philadelphia, Phillis, Prudence, Rhoda, Rosanna, Rose, Rosetta, Rosina, Sabina, Selina, Sylvia, Theodosia, Theresa

F - (selected) Alicia, Bethia, Euphemia, Frederica, Helena, Leonora, Mariana, Millicent, Mirah, Olivia, Philippa, Rosamund, Sybella, Tabitha, Temperance, Theophila, Thomasin, Tryphena, Ursula, Virtue, Wilhelmina

G - (selected) Adelaide, Alethia, Angelina, Cassandra, Cherry, Constance, Delilah, Dorinda, Drusilla, Eva, Happy, Jessica, Josephine, Laura, Minerva, Octavia, Parthenia, Theodora, Violet, Zipporah

H - Alberta, Alexandra, Amber, Ashley, Calliope, Calpurnia, Chloe, Cressida, Cynthia, Daisy, Daphne, Elaine, Eloise, Estella, Lilian, Lilias, Francesca, Gabriella, Genevieve, Gwendoline, Hermione, Hyacinth, Inez, Iris, Kathleen, Madeline, Maude, Melody, Portia, Seabright, Seraphina, Sienna, Verity

Men's Names

S+ John, William, Thomas

S - James, George, Joseph, Richard, Robert, Charles, Henry, Edward, Samuel

A - Benjamin, (Mother’s/Grandmother’s maiden name used as first name)#

B - Alexander^, Andrew, Daniel, David>, Edmund, Francis, Frederick, Isaac, Matthew, Michael, Patrick~, Peter, Philip, Stephen, Timothy

C - Abraham, Anthony, Christopher, Hugh>, Jeremiah, Jonathan, Nathaniel, Walter

D - Adam, Arthur, Bartholomew, Cornelius, Dennis, Evan>, Jacob, Job, Josiah, Joshua, Lawrence, Lewis, Luke, Mark, Martin, Moses, Nicholas, Owen>, Paul, Ralph, Simon

E - Aaron, Alfred, Allen, Ambrose, Amos, Archibald, Augustin, Augustus, Barnard, Barney, Bernard, Bryan, Caleb, Christian, Clement, Colin, Duncan^, Ebenezer, Edwin, Emanuel, Felix, Gabriel, Gerard, Gilbert, Giles, Griffith, Harry*, Herbert, Humphrey, Israel, Jabez, Jesse, Joel, Jonas, Lancelot, Matthias, Maurice, Miles, Oliver, Rees, Reuben, Roger, Rowland, Solomon, Theophilus, Valentine, Zachariah

F - (selected) Abel, Barnabus, Benedict, Connor, Elijah, Ernest, Gideon, Godfrey, Gregory, Hector, Horace, Horatio, Isaiah, Jasper, Levi, Marmaduke, Noah, Percival, Shadrach, Vincent

G - (selected) Albion, Darius, Christmas, Cleophas, Enoch, Ethelbert, Gavin, Griffin, Hercules, Hugo, Innocent, Justin, Maximilian, Methuselah, Peregrine, Phineas, Roland, Sebastian, Sylvester, Theodore, Titus, Zephaniah

H - Albinus, Americus, Cassian, Dominic, Eric, Milo, Rollo, Trevor, Tristan, Waldo, Xavier

# Men were sometimes given a family surname (most often their mother's or grandmother's maiden name) as their first name - the most famous example of this being Fitzwilliam Darcy. If you were to combine all surname-based first names as a single 'name' this is where the practice would rank.

*Rank as a given name, not a nickname

+If you count Mary Ann as a separate name from Mary - Mary would remain in S+ even without the Mary Anns included

~Primarily used by people of Irish descent

^Primarily used by people of Scottish descent

>Primarily used by people of Welsh descent

I was going to continue on and write about why Regency-era first names were so uniform, discuss historically accurate surnames, nicknames, and include a little guide to finding 'unique' names that are still historically accurate - but this post is already very, very long, so that will have to wait for a later date.

If anyone has any questions/comments/clarifications in the meantime feel free to message me.

Methodology notes: All data is from marriage records covering six parishes in the City of Westminster between 1804 and 1821. The total sample size was 50,950 individuals.

I chose marriage records rather than births/baptisms as I wanted to focus on individuals who were adults during the Regency era rather than newborns. I think many people make the mistake when researching historical names by using baby name data for the year their story takes place rather than 20 to 30 years prior, and I wanted to avoid that. If you are writing a story that takes place in 1930 you don’t want to research the top names for 1930, you need to be looking at 1910 or earlier if you are naming adult characters.

I combined (for my own sanity) names that are pronounced identically but have minor spelling differences: i.e. the data for Catherine also includes Catharines and Katherines, Susannah includes Susannas, Phoebe includes Phebes, etc.

The compound 'Mother's/Grandmother's maiden name used as first name' designation is an educated guesstimate based on what I recognized as known surnames, as I do not hate myself enough to go through 25,000+ individuals and confirm their mother's maiden names. So if the tally includes any individuals who just happened to be named Fitzroy/Hastings/Townsend/etc. because their parents liked the sound of it and not due to any familial relations - my bad.

I did a small comparative survey of 5,000 individuals in several rural communities in Rutland and Staffordshire (chosen because they had the cleanest data I could find and I was lazy) to see if there were any significant differences between urban and rural naming practices and found the results to be very similar. The most noticeable difference I observed was that the S+ tier names were even MORE popular in rural areas than in London. In Rutland between 1810 and 1820 Elizabeths comprised 21.4% of all brides vs. 15.3% in the London survey. All other S+ names also saw increases of between 1% and 6%. I also observed that the rural communities I surveyed saw a small, but noticeable and fairly consistent, increase in the use of names with Biblical origins.

Sources of the records I used for my survey: 

Ancestry.com. England & Wales Marriages, 1538-1988 [database on-line].

Ancestry.com. Westminster, London, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1754-1935 [database on-line].

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

there's currently misinformation going around tumblr about what the SSI marriage penalty is, so this is my attempt to explain it in plain language.

when you marry someone who is not on SSI, and you are on SSI, their income is counted as your income. your SSI will be docked according to their income from then on. if their income outstrips your SSI (maximum SSI is $914 a month as of 2023), you will be ineligible for SSI from then on.

if two people on SSI get married, their maximum SSI benefits are reduced by 25%. they no longer get SSI as individuals, they get SSI as a couple, which is 25% less money than individuals are eligible for.

collectively, these two processes are known as the marriage penalty.

some news outlets are currently (September 2023) incorrectly reporting a bill as removing the marriage penalty. this is false. the bill is changing the savings cap for married couples on SSI. the savings cap is the amount of money you are allowed to save in your personal account before being kicked off SSI. this is different from the marriage penalty, and outlets referring to them as the same are conflating two different laws that apply to SSI recipients. please do not assume based on mis-worded news articles that you can get married without losing your income and health care if this bill passes. you may be putting yourself in danger by doing so.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 08:25 P.M 」

tw: pregnancy. overall, just some domestic dad-to-be gojo trying to show how much he loves you even with how your body changes and all <3 based on a request!

a part of gojo's love entries

don’t think that satoru hasn’t noticed how you linger in front of the mirror these days, touching your body all over—particularly your baby bump. seeing your face twist into a sad frown dampens his spirits too.

on the other hand, you understand that it’s a natural process, but you have never gained this much weight before, and despite already having your husband reassure you before, you still feel somewhat meh about yourself.

“how’s my favorite girl and little rascal doing today?” he flopped down on the bed beside you as soon as he returned from school, caressing your belly. “ready to come out yet?”

you throw him an unamused look. “no, satoru. and don’t make it sound so effortless. i’m the one pushing him out.”

“ahh, but i can’t wait though~”

his palpable excitement actually made you smile as you placed your hand over his. but then your smile fell a bit and he was quick to notice it.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked then. “talk to me, hmm?”

“no… it’s nothing.” you looked away, a bit ashamed. if satoru says he’s not bothered by your figure, you really shouldn’t be thinking about this any longer. you didn't want to make him worry… but it really wasn't easy to let it go.

“hmm, my baby mama can’t be sad,” your husband pouted, and suddenly he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “she’s the cutest when she smiles.”

you looked up to him, feeling the security in his arms and yet still a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “am i just cute… to you?”

you wanted to be beautiful too. like how he used to sing you praises during your school days.

satoru grinned. and it’s the kind of toothy grin that makes your heart soar.

“no. you’re also pretty.” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “and you’re smart, kind, nags a lot, gets pouty easily… and you're sweet like a dango, makes me want to gobble you up.”

“so now i’m a dango?” you nestled your head against his broad chest, feeling your face start to heat up, and a smile beginning to curve your lips. stupid satoru. he said all of them so easily it was making you giddy and felt silly for doubting him at all.

“just because our baby is going to be a mochi. and look, you’re so close to carrying him to full-term,” he rubbed your swollen tummy again, this time with a more sincere smile. “i love you the most for it.”

your eyes took a shine, processing his words, and you could’ve sworn that right now, nothing could’ve shaken your feelings for your silly husband.

suddenly your baby kicked you hard as if to reprimand you too for your insecurities, and you winced.

“hurts?” satoru questioned, slightly concerned when you nodded. “wait i’ll tell him off.”

he cleared his throat and began making circular motions on your abdomen, as if to summon him.

“yo, brat. you can’t kick your mama like that too often these days. you’re accumulating karma and she counts it. when you come out, she’ll forbid you from eating our favorite mochis and—”

“satoru!!”

and then the two of you just burst into giggles, and once again, you utterly and thoroughly fell in love with him. for always making you feel safe... and loved.

“you know, satoru...” this time it was you who hugged him, breathing in his scent for comfort. now you were totally worry-free, the softest of smile on your face. “i’m really grateful that... we found each other.”

at your heartfelt confession, satoru felt his chest tighten with warmth and his cheeks flush. he is so blushing and he tries covering it with a chuckle. and the words lingering at the tip of his tongue were—

“heh, aren’t you glad you married me?”

yeah... i’m so glad that it’s you too.

[lovifie]

Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...

He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked

Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL

Hey, love!! 💗💗

I wrote you a little something...

I hope you like it 💗

❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️

Fluff | Sugestive | 1547 words | Back to Masterlist

They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them. 

“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”

Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it. 

“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads. 

Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast. 

“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.

“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.

“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke. 

A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”

They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman. 

Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely. 

“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”

During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.

“What do you think she'll look like?”

“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”

And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday. 

Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow. 

“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”

You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.

“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking. 

They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you. 

Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.

“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.

The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door. 

“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.

“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you. 

“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts. 

“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”

“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”

“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”

Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm. 

Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact. 

After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you. 

You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.

The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh. 

“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile. 

“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”

“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”

“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”

Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs. 

Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.

“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile. 

“Yep.” Price says locking the door.

“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs. 

“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.

“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek. 

You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”

He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you. 

“Who's your husband, darling?”

“You, Mr. Price.”

A bit more of this

[yojeongin]

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

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

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

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

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

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hmm…

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

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

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

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

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

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

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

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

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

God, no… he was being irrational again!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're not her...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

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

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

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

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

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

You believe me like a God,

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

I’ll destroy you like I am.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How selfish.

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

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

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

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

How selfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Misery loves company.

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

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

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

“Please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll betray you like a man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[homunculus-argument]

25-year-old dudes in 2020s: [doing shit like making tiktok-videos of themselves climbing on the roof to party, chugging beers and blasting music with their bros, while making jokes about anime tiddies] someone in the comments: This younger generation is so childish and immature, Back In My Day people were already settled down and married with kids at that age! >:C 25-year-old dudes in the 70s: [doing shit like climbing on the roof to chug beers and shoot random passing pigeons as target practice, while his wife is standing on the yard telling him to get the fuck down from there and their three kids are running around trying to decide whether this is hilarious or deeply emotionally traumatising]

[flowersandbigteeth]

Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!

This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^

I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* （￣ ｗ￣）Ψ

Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader

Word Count: 6K

TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing

“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd. 

The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air. 

“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table. 

“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way. 

The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face. 

“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows. 

He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric. 

“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”

The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared. 

“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.” 

Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital. 

“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage. 

The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.

“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.” 

“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.” 

“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” 

The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables. 

“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”

He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.

“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.” 

“(Y/N).”

“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

You gave him a sharp nod. 

“I do.” 

He swung a lazy eye at Saber. 

“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?” 

He gave you a bright smile. 

“I do.” 

The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you. 

“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”

He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest. 

“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.

You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face. 

“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!” 

He chuckled.

“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.” 

He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking. 

“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.” 

He shrugged. 

“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?” 

You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.  

“Maybe I should have let you die.”

Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head. 

“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!” 

You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket. 

“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!” 

You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see. 

“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you. 

“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.

His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck. 

“It won’t come off.” 

You nodded proudly. 

“Exactly.”

He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again. 

“Interesting,” he murmured.  

“What? What does that mean?” 

He smiled and shrugged.

“Lead the way, spouse.” 

You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things. 

“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.

“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.” 

He ignored you, looking around. 

“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.” 

You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms. 

“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”

You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin. 

“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.” 

He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands. 

“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.” 

Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water. 

“What are you doing?” 

He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through. 

“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”

Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you. 

“How long have you been living alone?” 

You blushed, embarrassed. 

“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.” 

“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.” 

You gave him an indignant snuff. 

“At least I’m not a thief!” 

He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings. 

“Hey! You stole that!” 

He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?” 

You sucked in a deep annoyed breath. 

“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.” 

“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 

What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him. 

But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup. 

A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might. 

Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task. 

Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door. 

“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task. 

“Sit down,” you barked. 

A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head. 

“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?” 

You wrinkled your nose at him. 

“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!” 

He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump. 

“S-sorry,” you muttered.

“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.” 

You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line. 

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?” 

He paused for a moment before he jerked his head. 

“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.” 

“Why?” 

“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”

He sighed. 

“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.” 

Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly. 

“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.” 

He swiveled around to look at you, smiling. 

“Thanks, doc!”

“I’m not a doctor.” 

He shrugged. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Ten years of special-”

You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.

“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving. 

“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked. 

“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.” 

He frowned. 

“No meat?” 

You blinked at him. 

“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?” 

He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly. 

When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him. 

“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table. 

“Why, trying to run off?” 

He smirked. 

“No, why would I want to run away from you?” 

He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued. 

“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.” 

Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. 

“A couple of miles in any direction.” 

“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.” 

You shrugged. 

“I can’t be right at your side every minute.” 

He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 

“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?” 

Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup. 

“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.” 

While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction. 

You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes. 

“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go. 

“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on. 

“There’s a couch in the living room.” 

He wrinkled his nose. 

“It’s covered in stuff.” 

You shrugged, trying to hurry past him. 

“I’ll clean it up.”

You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.” 

He patted your butt for emphasis. 

“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!” 

Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled. 

“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!” 

“They were going to kill you!” 

He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck. 

“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin. 

“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.

Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants. 

“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.  

He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes. 

“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!” 

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison. 

“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas! 

Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot. 

“Get in,” you said. 

Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. 

“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!” 

You let out a long sigh. 

“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”

Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him. 

“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”

He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” 

He shrugged, his jaw tightening. 

“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.” 

A long sigh slipped past his lips. 

“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”

Your mouth fell open. 

“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”

He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair. 

“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.” 

“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”

He smirked. 

“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.” 

He pinched your chin. 

“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.” 

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him. 

“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.” 

You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you. 

The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together. 

“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness. 

You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before. 

Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe. 

When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream? 

The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not. 

Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing. 

“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual. 

Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something. 

Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping? 

You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work. 

You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled. 

Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered. 

Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside. 

“Morning, spouse!” 

Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders. 

“What’s that?” 

He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders. 

“Meat!” he announced proudly. 

You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat. 

“Where are you off to?” he asked. 

“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path. 

A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.” 

You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow. 

“Helloooo? Helllloooo?” 

A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs.  Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.

“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?” 

“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier. 

Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you. 

“Saber! There you are!” 

She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes. 

“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?” 

“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!” 

When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. 

“Not someone. Me.” you interjected. 

You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm. 

“Saber is my husband. Who are you?” 

She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you. 

“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?” 

Saber’s shocked face tightened. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.” 

She scoffed. 

“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned. 

His brow drew, looking between you and her. 

“What child?” 

She huffed, frowning at you. 

“Fine…If you must do this, this way.” 

She turned to the carriage and yelled. 

“Nora, bring the baby!” 

A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn. 

Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands. 

“This…he…is mine?” 

Melody nodded. 

“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.” 

He glanced up at her. 

“You want to get back together?” 

She let out a cruel but trilling laugh. 

“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!” 

Anger roiled under your skin. 

“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded. 

She snorted as if that were a foolish question. 

“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”

She fluttered her iridescent wings. 

“It only need be a fairy child.” 

You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls. 

“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.” 

She glanced at you. 

“What do you want? Money?”

You let out a tight chuff. 

“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.” 

Her eyes jerked to Saber. 

“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."

She glared at you.

"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"

Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace. 

“Have you named him?” he asked. 

She looked contrite but lifted her chin. 

“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...” 

He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child. 

“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.” 

“But Saber-” 

“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.” 

You jerked your chin at her. 

“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”

Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels. 

“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”  

Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama. 

“Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.” 

He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.

“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?” 

You smiled at him. 

“Let’s talk it over over lunch.” 

The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.

“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.” 

He looked down at you. 

“You won’t miss this place?” 

You sighed. 

“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.” 

“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.” 

You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.

“What? I thought you said you were broke?” 

He smiled down at you. 

“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.” 

He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink. 

“I think we can buy a nice place with this.” 

You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.

“I thought you lost it gambling?” 

He shrugged. 

“I lied.” 

“Why did you keep it?” 

He gave you a long look.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.” 

“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?” 

“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.

I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.” 

He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.  

“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.” 

His gaze dropped to the baby. 

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”

He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say. 

“What about Arel?” you asked. 

“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.” 

You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks. 

“It is…it means ‘treasure’.” 

He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe. 

“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek. 

Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon. 

Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face. 

“Is he okay?” 

“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.” 

Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.

[theyluvkarolina]

౨ৎ PANIC ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Oscar doesn’t mean to come off as a panicking first time father, but his little one is his whole world! How will that anxiety crawl up when and boil over when it’s her first Grand Prix?

PAIRING ౨ৎ Dad!Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ oscar is just a nervous first time dad 😞

A/N ౨ৎ OSCAR REQUEST 🗣️, Sadie loves to terrorize Oscar, and I love that. A little menace she is.

OSCAR NEVER EXPECTED to be a father this young. He would have at least thought that he’d have a Championship, turn 25, or even get married before he had a child. But life had its own plans.

From the moment he first held her, everything else faded into the background. Racing, which had been the center of his universe, now revolved around his daughter. She was so small, so delicate, and every little noise she made sent his heart racing.

Oscar was known for being calm. Level headed. Realistic. Yet, when it came to his little girl, things changed. Drastically.

Everything was a threat. It started with the small things: a tiny cough, her first stumbles and falls when she first attempted walking, the way she’d put everything she found into her mouth. He tried to stay calm, telling himself that every parent worried, but it never took much for that anxiety to creep up on him. A trip to the playground turned into a mental obstacle course—every slide was too high, every swing too fast, and the idea of her falling down onto the wood chips make his skin crawl.

And now, it was the moment many fathers in Formula One would love: to see their children watch them race. But Oscar? He was a wreck.

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

The night was quiet in Australia, the moonlight shining through the blinds of his parents home you both decided to stay in before the start of the Grand Prix around the corner with the chirping crickets forming their own harmony outside. With Sadie finally asleep in Oscar’s arms, a small smile tugged at your lips before you spoke.

“You know… I’ve been thinking.”

Oscar glanced over softly, his eyes warm with affection. “You? Thinking? I’m bracing myself here.”

“Haha. Funny.” You took a deep breath, carefully choosing your words. “I was thinking… maybe we should take Sadie to the Australian GP. I know it’s her first one, but it could be a special experience for her. And for us. I mean, it’s your home race. Our home race.”

Oscar's fingers lightly brushed against Sadie's soft, downy hair as he shifted her gently in his arms. The quiet, tender moment was interrupted by your suggestion, and his brow furrowed slightly in concern.

“..What?” He questioned, his Aussie accent slipping through. The thought of having his little girl at the track, in the midst of the roaring engines and flashing cameras, made him feel uneasy. It wasn’t the fact it was a race that concerned him but rather how unpredictable it is.

“Let’s take Sadie to the Grand Prix this weekend.” You repeated.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low. “It’s not exactly a calm environment. It’s loud, chaotic…”

You gently placed a hand on his arm, "I know, Oscar. But I think it would be good for her to see what you do, even if she’s too young to fully understand. It could be a special memory for us, and your Mum insists she comes with us for extra help."

Oscar’s grip tightened slightly on Sadie as he looked down at her peaceful face, her tiny hand curled around his thumb. “What if she gets scared? The noise alone could be overwhelming for her,” He murmured.

You leaned in closer, resting your head against his shoulder. “We’ll be right there with her. And she’ll have ear protection, and we’ll make sure she’s comfortable. Besides, she’ll be surrounded by people who love her, including your parents and sisters. It’ll be okay.”

Oscar didn’t seem convinced judging by his silence and expression on his face.

“Oscar, Sadie is a calm baby. Unusually calm.” You stated earning a small amused scoff, “Like how your Mum described you as a baby and kid kind of calm… without waking up screaming to be freed from the crib. She will be okay.”

Oscar sighed, feeling the weight of your words. You were right; Sadie was an unusually calm baby, a trait she no doubt inherited from him. But that didn’t stop the what-ifs from swirling around in his mind.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice firmer now. “We’ll do it. We’ll take her to the Grand Prix.”

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

Stepping into the Australian sun, the warmth envelops you like a blanket, its golden rays reflecting off the bustling excitement of the Australian Grand Prix.

“Sweetheart, do you have her-“

“Yes Oscar, I have her ear protection, I have her spare clothes just in case, and the baby bag is hanging on her stroller.” You reply with a amused smile at his questioning as we entered the paddock.

Oscar gave a relieved nod, looking over at Sadie in his arms who was taking in her new surroundings. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as you approached the McLaren garage.

The garage was abuzz with activity. Team members hurriedly prepared the cars, the unmistakable scent of gasoline and tire rubber filled the air, and mechanics shouted over the din of the crowd. Oscar's teammates and crew were working efficiently, their focus entirely on the task at hand.

As you reached the entrance to the McLaren garage, Oscar’s anxiety flared up again. “Do you think she’ll be okay in all this noise?” he asked, casting a worried glance at Sadie while he set her down, who seemed completely unfazed finding her balance.

“She’ll be fine, Oscar,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand. “Look at her. She’s curious, not scared. Besides, she’s got her daddy to protect her.”

Oscar smiled faintly at that, but the knots in his stomach refused to loosen. He glanced back at Sadie, who had wandered over to a stack of tires and was trying to peer around them. Every little movement she made seemed like a potential hazard in Oscar’s mind—what if she stumbled and hit her head? What if she got too close to something dangerous?

He quickly crossed the short distance to her, crouching down and gently steering her back toward the stroller. “Stay close, okay?” he said softly, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

Sadie looked up at him with a small smile, her tiny hand gripping his finger as she babbled something incoherent. Oscar’s heart melted a little, but the tension remained.

You watched him, your heart aching for the way he was trying so hard to keep it together. “Oscar, she’s safe. I promise you-”

As if on cue, Sadie eyes lit up as she spotted the bright orange McLaren car. Oscar couldn’t help but smile at her reaction. It was the first time he’d seen her show interest in his world…. or really anything besides her family.

Yet, that moment didn’t last long.

Sadie, determined to explore, suddenly let go of Oscar’s hand and toddled off towards the car. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat as he scrambled after her, scooping her up just as she reached the edge of the garage. “No, no, no… not there.” he muttered, holding her close as he carried her back to the you and the relative safety of the stroller.

“She’s fast,” one of the mechanics chuckled, having witnessed the scene. “She’s like Verstappen on track!”

Oscar simply gave a embarrassed chuckle after his daughter’s attempts of adventure. Yet, Sadie’s terrorizing didn’t end there. As the day progressed, Oscar and you did your best to keep Sadie entertained and safe in the bustling environment of the McLaren garage in preparing for the race. Unfortunately, she seemed determined to explore every inch of the place, much to both of your guys’s dismay.

INSTANCE 1: TIRES

As Oscar tried to get a moment of calm in the garage, he put Sadie down for a quick break next to her stroller. He was just about to check in with his team when he heard a faint sound. Spinning around, he saw that Sadie had wriggled out of her stroller’s harness and was crawling towards a rack of tires.

Oscar’s heart raced as he dashed over, his eyes wide with panic. “That’s where we aren’t going, Missy.” he exclaimed, scooping her up just as she was about to pull herself up onto the stack. The tires wobble precariously, and Oscar’s breath caught in his throat. He held her tightly, his face pale as he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his near disaster.

The surrounding mechanics, sensing his distress, quickly stepped in to stabilize the tires. One of them patted him on the back, “Seems to me she wants to be part of the pit crew already!”

“Maybe she’ll be the one changing your tires this race!” Another commented with a laugh.

Oscar forced a smile, but the worry lines on his forehead remained.

INSTANCE 2:

As Oscar prepared for the race, you took over watching Sadie, trying to keep her entertained while Oscar suited up. You were stationed near the McLaren garage entrance, making sure to keep a watchful eye on Sadie who was now sitting contentedly in her stroller—at least for the moment.

However, as you turned to chat with one of the team’s engineers, you heard a soft giggle followed by a rapid series of thumps. Turning quickly, you saw Sadie had somehow managed to wriggle out of her stroller again and was crawling towards a set of hydraulic jacks. The sight of her tiny fingers reaching out to touch the massive equipment made your heart skip a beat.

“Nu uh, little lady! We don’t touch that! No no.” you exclaimed, rushing over to her. But as you got closer, Sadie let out a giggle as you lifted her up into your arms.

“I’ve never seen a baby this eager to be with McLaren.” Charlotte smiled as she passed by. “Perhaps she should start working with me at communications to be with Oscar more often!”

You gave a slightly embarrassed laugh as you buckled her in, she reached out with a pout, clearly unhappy with being restrained. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but we have to stay safe,” you murmured, brushing her hair back.

The rest of the crew chuckled at the spectacle, but you could see the worried look on Oscar’s face as he came out of his room, suited up in his gear. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“Just a small adventure with the hydraulic jacks,” you said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “She’s fine now, but we might need to make sure all the escape routes are blocked off.”

Oscar gave a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Noted…”

INSTANCE 3: THE LANDO OVERTAKE

As the tension in the garage reached a peak with the race fast approaching, Sadie’s curiosity showed no signs of waning. Oscar, now fully suited up and mentally bracing himself for the race, was still visibly on edge.

In the midst of the frantic pre-race preparations, you found yourself trying to keep Sadie entertained while Oscar finished his final checks with the team. However, Sadie’s attempts to explore had escalated to a full-blown quest for adventure.

The McLaren garage was abuzz with activity, but you kept a close eye on Sadie, who had recently discovered the appeal of the large, colorful tire barriers. She was reaching out, her small fingers attempting to grasp anything within her reach. Just as you managed to corral her back to the stroller, a familiar voice came from behind you both.

“Oscar, mate you look like you’ve went to hell and back.” Lando chuckled, approaching with a sympathetic grin. His eyes quickly darted to Sadie, who was now fixated on the box of tools that a mechanic handed her just to keep her occupied.

Oscar, still visibly stressed, gave a exhale, resting his head on your shoulder. “Lando, you have no idea. She’s like a magnet for trouble today.”

Lando and Sadie have met before, back when she was just born in a hospital visit.

Lando’s gaze softened as he crouched down to Sadie’s level, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey there, Sadie. How’s it going, little lady? You’ve grown up quite a bit haven’t you?” he questioned, trying to capture her attention.

Sadie’s tiny head turned toward Lando, her eyes wide with interest with the new face for today. The sight of Lando’s playful demeanor seemed to break through her persistent determination. For a moment, she was entranced by his animated expressions and the sound of his voice.

She reached out towards him, her earlier determination to explore seemingly melting away in the face of his playful antics. Lando’s antics were enough to draw a genuine smile from her, and she even let out a small giggle, her tiny fingers grasping at his brightly colored McLaren cap.

Oscar, watching from a short distance, let out a relieved breath as he saw Sadie’s attention shift from her previous distractions. It was as if Lando had managed to temporarily derail her adventurous spirit with nothing more than charm and a few well-timed funny faces.

Needless to say, Oscar was astonished. He spent a handful of hours trying to stop her from even wandering off and all it took was a a small talk and a funny face?

“I…wha… how?!”

“Having a niece helps out a lot when it comes to kids, y’know.”

All that was left now was race time.

POST RACE

After all the chaos, Oscar achieved a solid P4 just behind Lando. Truely a race to remember compared to first race last year.

When he finally emerged from the car, the first thing he did was seek out you and his daughter. He was visibly relieved to find her in one piece, though she had managed to wriggle out of her stroller again and was now playing with the cap that Lando had given her.

Lando, who had been keeping an eye on Sadie during the race, gave Oscar a sympathetic grin. “You survived the race and the baby chaos. You’re a hero in my book.”

Oscar chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. He scooped Sadie up, finally able to relax. “Thanks, Lando. I think I need a nap after all this.”

As the team cleaned up and you all walked out of the garage, Sadie clinging to Oscar’s neck and half-asleep after all her terrorism she caused in the McLaren garage. Happily, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes but also a newfound contentment.

“We aren’t taking her to another race are we?” You questioned.

“Unless we got a baby leash like Kevin suggested? Hell no.” Oscar huffed out in response.

[femsolid]

Male celebrities who've attacked women.

an endless list

Shia Labeouf (Actor)

Has sexually assaulted, verbally abused and harassed several women. Strangled his ex. Shot a dog to "get in character for a movie". Has cheated on every girlfriend he's ever had and knowingly given them STDs.

Elvis Presley (Singer)

Has sexually assaulted several underage girls (as young as 14) and married one of them. A woman his own age was deemed "too old for him". He only wanted to have sex with virgin girls. When his young wife told him she didn't love him anymore and wanted separation, he became violent and raped her.

Dustin Hoffman (actor)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted mutliple women including a minor.

There's always more...

Cuba Jr Gooding (actor)

Has raped multiple women and no less than 30 women have come forward accusing him of sexual asssault.

Mel Gibson (actor, director)

Beat his wife.

Jared Leto (Singer,actor)

Has sexually harassed and raped several uderage girls.

Roman Polanski (Director, actor)

Has raped multiple women and children. Has admitted to drugging and raping a 13 years old then fled to France to escape justice. People still work with him and he's still receiving awards.

Armie Hammer (Actor)

Ben Affleck (actor, director)

Has raped multiple women and violently assaulted them. Sent a series of texts to his ex saying he was masturbating while picturing himself breaking her bones. Actor Robert Downey Jr has paid for his "rehab" and offered him to live in one of his houses.

Has sexually assaulted several women.

Casey Affleck (actor)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted several women.

Gerard Depardieu (Actor)

Has sexually harassed, abused or raped at least 13 women and is currently being investigated for it. Was shown, in a documentary, sexually harassing every woman he would come across. In the same documentary, he also made repeated sexual remarks about a little girl.

Snoop Dogg (Rapper)

Used to be a human trafficker driving around with a van full of girls he would sell to men, sometimes to a whole athlete team. He claimed he could have sex with any of the prostituted women he owned anytime he wanted. He was married at the time. He wrote multiple rap songs about beating up women to make sure we're kept under control, calling us sexist slurs. He was recently accused of sexual assault by multiple back up dancers.

Charlie Chaplin (actor)

Raped a child and got her pregnant. Later at the age of 48 he married a 18 years old girl.

There's always more...

David Bowie (singer)

Raped a 15 years old girl when he was 25 and committed statutory rape on a 14 years old when he was 17. He's been well known for preying on minors well into his 40s, including two 16 years old girls he took home one night. According to one of the victims, to groom them into a threesome he put his song "let's dance" on, got naked and danced, then told the girls to get naked and dance with him. They did, and he raped one of them. The other refused to participate as she was a virgin and didn't want her first time to be meaningless.

Jack Nicholson

After raping 2 prostituted women he refused to pay them. He beat them up and tried to kill one who ended up at the hospital. She pressed charges.

Donald Trump (US president)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted multiple women.

Vincent Van Gogh (painter)

Has harassed and assaulted multiple women, even following them home. A petition was therefore created by the locals to have him removed from the community and put in a hospital.

Sylvester Stallone (actor)

Raped a 16 years old girl.

James Franco (actor)

Has sexually harassed and assaulted multiple women and a minor. He would use his "acting lessons" and classes to manipulate his female students into doing sexual things.

Chris Brown (singer)

Beat his partner and raped another woman.

Freud (psychoanalyst)

Has facillitated the sexual abuse and rape of his female patients, some were children, protected rapists and participated in the disfigurment of a female patient in particular. He claimed his reluctant female patients were hysterical, lesbians and witches.

Marlon Brando (actor) and Bernardo Bertolucci (director)

Both raped an actress on set.

There's always more...

Dominique Strauss-Kahn (politician, formally head of the monetary fund)

Has sexually harassed multiple women and raped a roomkeeper at the hotel he was staying in.

Johnny Depp (actor)

Has been arrested multiple times for violence. Has raped and beaten his ex wife and called her a whore (among other things), notably commenting on the "fishy" smell of her vulva and writing about how he wants to kill and rape her to death.

Emile Hirsche (actor)

Assaulted a female collegue. She was a film executive and he strangled her before throwing her to the ground.

Woody Allen (director)

Has assaulted and raped multiple women, including his adoptive daughter who was 7. People still work with him and he's still receiving awards.

Cee Lo Green (singer)

Has raped a woman and explained on twitter that it wasn't rape, because "if the woman is unconscious it implies consent".

Nicholas Cage (actor)

Beat his wife.

Terrence Howard (actor)

Beat his wife and threatened to kill another woman.

Tupac (rapper)

Raped a woman.

Luc Besson (director)

Married a 16 years old girl and beat her. Raped another woman and sexually harassed several others. Despite this, many famous actors still work for him.

There's always more...

Ike Turner (musician)

Beat his wife.

Mike Tyson (boxer)

Beat his wife and raped a woman (was even convicted for it, yet he remains beloved celebrity.)

Sean Penn (actor)

Beat his wife.

Tariq Ramadan (theologist)

Has raped and sexually harassed multiple women.

Morgan Freeman (actor)

Has sexually harassed at least 15 women.

Charlie Sheen (actor)

Beat his wife.

Nelly (singer)

Has raped and sexually assaulted several women.

Steven Seagal (actor)

Beat his wife. Sexually assaulted several female collegues.

Mickey Rourke (actor)

Beat his wife.

There's always more...

Slash (musician)

Beat his wife.

Louis C.K (comedian)

Has sexually harassed multiple women.

Christian Slater (actor)

Beat his wife.

Victor Hugo (poet)

Raped prostituted women on the regular and was abusing his wife.

Quentin Tarantino (director)

Has sexually harassed multiple women and protected several rapists.

When discussing what Roman Polanski did (drugging and sodomizing a 13 years old girl) Tarantino said it wasn't rape, that the child wanted it, that the child was Polanski's girlfriend, that an actual rape is violent and that this one wasn't. When the radio hosts told him that the girl was clear about not wanting any of what happened, Tarantino responded that her interfering mother had coached her to say that.

Yanni (musician)

Beat his wife.

Michael Douglas (actor)

Sexually harassed a woman.

Josh Brolin (actor)

Beat his wife.

Cristiano Ronaldo (footballer)

Raped a woman and admitted doing it. No one cares.

There's always more...

R Kelly (singer)

Raped and tortured many, many girls.

Franck Ribéry, Karim Benzema et Sidney Govou (footballers)

Acted as pimps and sexually exploited a minor.

Joe Biden (USA president)

Has sexually harassed several women and girls.

Seal (singer)

Has sexually assaulted a woman.

Julian Assange (whistleblower)

Has raped multiple women. Assange has written about his obsession with impregnating virgin women and he has alread impregnated several women (who are now single mothers). The rapes he's accused of all involved him trying to impregnate the women without their kowing. He is a fervant anti-feminist and racist. He's still supported by most of the left and celebrated as a hero.

Michael Fassbender (actor)

Assaulted his ex multiple times. One time he threw her and dragged her alongside their car. Her injuries included a swollen ankle, a burst ovarian cyst, a broken nose, and a blown out kneecap.

Oscar Pistorius (athlete)

While his wife had taken refuge in the bathroom he shot 4 times through the door with a gun, effectively killing her. He'll be out of prison next year after spending 10 years behind bars.

Morgan Ciprès (figure skater)

Sexually harassed a 13 years old via messaging.

Has sexually harassed multiple women.

Joaquin Phoenix (actor)

Kurt Cobain (singer)

Tried to rape a mentally disabled girl, a "retard" as he'd say, but gave up because her "vagina" smelled too bad. Later the girl's father came to find him and screamed that he had taken advantage of his daughter. Cobain was therefore nicknamed the "retard fucker" by his classmates.

There's always more...

But I'm tired.

[latenightdaydreams]

Divorced!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, divorced couple, fingering, oral, p in v, light angst/fluff

1.8k word count

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After a failed marriage, you ended up with a 75/25 custody agreement with König; you getting your son 75% of the time. In the two years since the divorce, communication with König has been next to nothing. He asks you to communicate through lawyers and you agree, not wanting to deal with his childish rage. Every drop off has been done with you and his assistant. He’s found any way to ice you out.

This weekend is his, but you already informed his people of a trip your mother paid for all her grandchildren. König agreed to let him go and just take the next weekend. That’s why it's so surprising when your doorbell rings late Friday night.

Dressed in baggy shirt and biker shorts, you walk from the kitchen with a glass of wine in your hand. When you poke your head out the window to see who it is, you notice König’s Audi outside. Why is he here?

You open the door to be greeted by his intense gaze, his pale eyes locking onto yours. He’s wearing an expensive black on black outfit with a freshly shaved face. A small smile on his thin scarred lips. Different from his typical military uniform and stoic expression.

“Hello?”

“Hallo, Schatz.” His eyes drift up and down your body, appreciating your cute loungewear.

“What are you doing here?” You ask confused, his wandering eyes causing you to feel self-conscious.

“I’m here for Elisa.”

“I told you he’s gone with my family. Remember, you agreed for next weekend instead?”

“Ah.” König says, looking around, not moving. “May I come in?”

“Uh—I guess, yeah.”

You step aside to let him in. König walks in and sees the place he paid for in the divorce for the first time. It smells like you, home, and it’s comforting. You close the door and walk to him awkwardly, not knowing what to say. The surrounding air both feels thick and it’s uncomfortable.

“The place looks nice; homey.” He says, combing his fingers through his short hair.

“Thank you. And thank you for helping me with it—”

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what a man is supposed to do for the mother of his child.” He says, trying to act manly, but in all honesty it’s because he never stopped loving you. The dead air makes things more awkward before he speaks up again. “Cheap red?” He gestures to the glass of wine still in your hand.

“Yeah, my favorite.” You laugh softly and take another sip.

“May I have a glass?” His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, nervous of your rejection.

“Sure, yeah.”

König follows you close behind as you walk to the kitchen, silently cursing the baggy shirt you’re wearing for making it harder to check you out. There is light stubble covering your legs, making him smile; recalling what it felt like rubbing your legs late at night before bed. His eyes observe you as you open the bottle of wine and carefully pour it out. He can tell that he’s making you nervous and hopes it’s because you still feel butterflies with him.

You step forward and hand the glass to König, his large fingers graze your own causing his stomach to do a flip. His eyes lock with yours as you lean back against the counter. He brings the glass to his lips taking a small sip of the overly sweet cheap wine.

“Danke.”

“Yup.” You pour yourself more wine as you run through all the possibilities of what he might be here to talk about. Is he stopping spousal support? Asking for more days with Elias? Is he getting married? You turn to König once more. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been…well.” He takes a small sip of wine breaking eye contact. “You?”

“Same.”

“That’s good.” The same painful silence plagues the air. “The place looks nice.” He repeats himself.

“You said that already.” His eyes snap to yours.  “So why are you really here?”

“I- I.” He looks around the room trying to think of an excuse, he forgot his original one. “I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Why? We haven’t talked in…years.”

König’s face turns a light shade of pink as he feels the heavy guilt of just cutting you out. In all reality, when you filed for divorce, it shattered his heart. The only way he could move on is if he pretended you never existed, but that hasn’t worked.

“I’m sorry about that. I always just wonder how you are, so I decided to show up.”

“Why not call? Email?” You put your glass down on the countertop behind you. “That’s what a normal person would do. Why are you really here?”

“I’ve missed you.” His voice comes out in a broken whisper before clearing his throat.

König looks down at you with the softest puppy eyes, waiting for you to respond. He knows that his neglect in the marriage is what led to its downfall so he doesn’t have much room to ask anything of you. His ego was too big of him to ask you for a second chance then, but these years without you have proved he can’t do it.

“What?” You snap.

“I said—”

“No, I heard you. Why would I care? Did you get dumped?”

“I never had a girlfriend.”

You look at him for a moment before snapping again, bringing up every moment that you can think of when you asked him to work on the relationship. Reminding him that he is the one that cut all communication between the both of you. He has been the one to give up and leave so easily while you drowned in life alone.

König didn’t dare defend himself or interrupt you. Everything you’re saying is completely correct. He just stands with slumped shoulders and a face full of regret. His eyes drift to your lips as you speak, noticing the way your soft lips pout as your words grow more emotional. With each second that passes, he gradually approaches, one small step at a time until he ends up just inches away from you. His free hand reaches out and cups the side of your face. Without another word, König leans in and kisses you.

A rush of powerful emotions comes flooding back to you. Just feeling his lips against yours once more was enough to melt you. Your lips press back against his as your hand grabs the glass from his hand and sets it down.

König wraps his arms around your waist and hoist you up on to the counter. His tongue presses past your lips, tasting your sweet tongue as he swirls his around yours. The kiss only briefly broken as he pulls your shirt off, tossing it onto the kitchen floor as he looks down at your braless breasts; just as perfect as they were last time he saw them.

König’s lips meet your once more while his hands move up to cup your breasts. He twirls your nipples between his fingers, leaving a trail of wet kissing down your side of your neck to your breast. In slow motions König flicking his tongue over your nipples. His rock-hard cock twitches in his pants.

“König, maybe we shouldn’t.”

“I need you, please.”

His fingers trace over the elastic in your shorts, pulling them off when he feels you lift your hips. A soft hum leaves his lips when he sees the floral-patterned underwear concealing what he craves the most right now. He wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you closer to him as he drops to his knees in front of you.

The warmth radiates between your legs, he craves it. His lips press against the cotton fabric, taking a deep breath in to savor your scent. He kisses hungrily, feeling the small wet spot growing on the fabric. With two fingers he slips underneath the fabric of his panties and touch your folds. His eyes meet you as he slips them into you, studying the expression of pleasure riddled across your face.

You drop your head back, resting on the cabinets behind you. Soft moans leave your lips as his thick fingers curl up pressing against your g-spot. His teeth pull your underwear to the slide more, slipping his tongue up and down your glistening folds. Your fingers find their way combing through his short hair.

The loud desperate moans leaving you only encourage him. This feels like when you were both younger and spontaneous, before König pushed you aside for work. He feels your sweet arousal begin to drip down from his fingers to his palm, your pussy white and creamy. His name leaves your lips like fire as you orgasm. Once your body stops trembling, he slowly withdraws his fingers from you. With his tongue flat, he licks the thick cream off your thighs and from between your cheeks, making sure he cleans you up.

Your eyes meet him as he stands up, rushing to undo his pants. His cock springs free as his pants fall, he pulls his shirt over his head to discard along with the rest. The look in your eyes is dreamy, full of lust of love.

König leans in and kisses your forehead as he lines himself up between your thighs. It’s been so long since he’s had sex, the fact it’s you he has again feel so unreal to him. He will never throw away the privilege of having your body ever again. You’re so beautiful, every inch.

As his cock slips in your jaw drops, a stuck moan lingers until finally he presses in completely. His forehead is presses against yours as his eyes close, letting the warmth consume him. One arm snakes underneath your thigh and pulls you forward more.

His broad hips snap against yours, a mixed melody of you both moaning fills their space in the kitchen. Your feel his hot breath brush across your face, he looks down at you through half lidded eyes. The silky walls of your cunt hug his cock so perfectly, he’s forgotten just how tight you are.

“You feel so fucking good.” His voice is almost a whimper. “I love you. I love you so fucking much, y/n.”

Your hands caress his jawline, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. König responds by thrusting harder into you. The sound of your creamy cunt and feeling of your soft lips push his body to the point of no return. His hips slow to attempt to prolong the pleasure, but he can’t. His cock throbs deep inside of you, cum slowly dripping out when he pulls slightly.

The both of you try to catch your breath, his hands not leaving you as he squeezes you tightly as if he’s scared to let go. König gently lifts you from the counter and walks to the couch. With gentle hands he rests you back against the soft fabric. Still not pulling out, he climbs on top of you and hugs you to his body. He hopes that this is a sign of reconciliation.