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#this could be about any fictional character or characters

rxmye · 1 day

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" 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — pristine and perfect, filled with grace and elegance, yet tainted with greed . . greed for you . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / slight religious themes?, I suppose it's a fictional religion, I'm still world-building / pathetic and submissive yandere / suggestive content? / he paints the reader as a source of comfort / stalking, which is conveniently described as 'adorable' and 'innocent' behavior /

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: ok so the person mentioned is supposed to be the God of this world, their introduction will also be out soon enough . . currently dropping hints here because world-building fun!!

Takamoto was an Arch-angel, one of the highest ranked angels in heaven—he was pure and truly the definition of elegance, he was never greedy, and he was almost always seen smiling or happy. For he, was truly contempt with his life, and position.

Takamoto was always someone who had truly been satisfied with all that he was given, he never craved more—he always thought and frankly believed, that he had received all that he deserved and that he should be contempt with what he has. He never really had any passion or desire for anything more—he was grateful with everything—he believed all his hardships had reasoning behind it, and that it will all eventually be solved. In fact a part of him believed he deserved any hardship he came by.

Many would believe he was naive for that sort of mindset, and many angels did truly believe him to be just that, yet against all odds he rose up the ranks fairly quickly for this sort of mindset, and of course his loyalty to his beliefs. Takamoto was sweet, he'd help everyone out, and would introduce new souls, and angels throughout the lands of heaven on his free time, he'd help guide souls and his fellow angels everywhere he could . . yet things slowly changed when he first met you . .

Takamoto was visiting, what could only be described as the countryside of heaven, with vast green fields, cozy homes, acres of farmland, etc . . He was checking in for this years harvest, as per high courts orders . . when he saw you, you were so graceful, your wings sparkled in the light, you were radiant, you're eyes glimmered as both of your eyes met for a brief moment . . he felt his heart skip a beat. . his face was heating up slightly, his face dusted with shades of bright pink.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his gaze lingered on you figure, taking in the sight—your wings were lovely, much smaller than his . . were you a new soul? Perhaps you were a lower ranked angel and hence why you both never quite met . . He wanted to know more about you—he need to know more about you—where were you going? . . . and before he knew it, he found himself following you, trailing behind you silently.

He found himself frequenting areas he last saw you, it was all so innocent at first, many of his fellow coworkers described him as a young schoolboy in love, teasing him for his oh so adorable behavior . .

Takamoto didn't notice how much you were invading his life, he hadn't even been able to hold a proper sentence with you yet . . . but even then his thoughts consumed of you, whenever he did paperwork, he'd doodle your face, his room was filled with various portraits of you . .

He found himself overtime growing desperate, impure thoughts flooding his mind, greed sinking its claws into his sensitive and naive hurt—he was the utter picture of perfection, just look at him, he was everything an angel . . a human, anyone should be!?!? Why aren't you looking his way!— . . he took deep breaths, his own fingers digging into his skin, as he tried calming himself.

Gold drips from his arm, the bruise left from his fingers still fresh—golden blood stained his pretty pale fingers—pupils dilating as he took deep breaths, a ruined portrait of your face on the aisle, paint splatters surrounded him, tainting his legs, as a mirror lay broken on the floor.

"Fuck", he cussed softly, tears threatening to spill, his usually well-kept hair was a mess . . "why can't I draw them . . ?", he asked, his voice hoarse, as he tried his best to contain the anger he felt at that moment, "why can't I fucking draw them??", his nails dig into the floor, as the door creaked open.

You need to love him, you need to see him. He had never craved someone's validation, he deserved this, he deserved you! He could offer you everything, he was perfect! Everyone he knows, envied that about him . . surely you'd notice, you have too . .

He turned to face the person at the door, tears now dripping down his cheek, he mumbled something under his breath, before he started begging, "Please, please, help me . . my lord"

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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yojeongin · 2 days

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

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

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

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

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

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lunch with a special friend?”

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hmm…

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

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

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

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

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

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

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

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

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

God, no… he was being irrational again!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're not her...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

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

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

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

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

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

You believe me like a God,

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

I’ll destroy you like I am.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How selfish.

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

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

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

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

How selfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Misery loves company.

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

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

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

“Please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll betray you like a man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

join yojeongin’s taglist to be up to date with future work!

taglist: @haknyeonsju @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee

#neohub #nct-writers #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #nctcreations18 #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark lee x you #mark lee x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #nct #nct fic

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judasgot-it · 2 days

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Ranking the top 5 BSD on how scared they are of women

1. Jouno Saigiku

He works with Teruko and I think he's heard and smelled too many horrors after passing the female restrooms. To the dumb bitches who wouldn't shut up about their bfs dildo while I took a piss, this is about you btw

2. Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I think he personally knew some of the biggest bad bitches in history and that gave him a reasonable fear of them. He only fucks with men because he knows they can't resist his evil twinkish ways

3. Fukuzawa

The only pussy he's touching is Mr. Oldmancatboy and that's cuz ik this dude probably said some stupid ass shit 1 (one) time to a girl when he was 14 and then never forgot it and now is scared of hurting a girls feelings

4. Katai

Calls any vaguely woman shaped person "female" and thinks of interacting with them as a dating simulator. He only talks to his mom and Yosano when she force-feeds him vitamins and sunlight. She actively makes his fear worse

5. Edgar Allan Poe

He interacts with like at best 2 women on a regular basis, I don't think he can name anyone besides them unless it's a fictional character. Let's be so fr dude could not name a woman besides maybe Rosa Parks and Furina or some shit. He probably only talks to an irl woman in order to make his books accurate and its the scariest thing he has to do

#this is stupid but per my last post #i think this shit is funny af #sorry #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd

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neowonderland · 13 hours

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Summary: Jeno never truly understands why his boyfriend, Jaemin sticks next to you

Pairings: Poly! Nomin x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, noncon

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

Jeno never truly understood why his boyfriend stuck around you.

Jaemin's free to do what he wants, free to spend time and sleep around with whoever. Jeno is free to do the same, but it doesn't stop him from judging Jaemin's decisions.

To Jeno, you were like a caricature of a human being, too sweet, too innocent, too naive. Jeno swears there isn't a thought behind your eyes when you gaze at his boyfriend, Jaemin with your doe eyes, wide, filled with admiration and listening intently to what Jaemin would say.

Jeno never understood why Jaemin would let you touch him, Jaemin letting your fingers card through his hair while he laid his head on your lap, your head resting on his shoulder or your arms wrapped around Jaemin while you two sat on the couch together.

To Jeno, you were a nuisance to both him and his boyfriend, an annoying moth that was drawn to Jaemin like a flame, a fly that could never seem to leave Jaemin alone. Jeno wished that Jaemin tolerated you out of politeness, but the shopping sprees, countless gifts, gentle words and affectionate glances seemed to say otherwise.

Maybe Jeno was jealous, seeing his precious boyfriends attention on someone else other than him. Maybe it was because Jeno wanted to monopolize Jaemin and have Jaemin dote on him the same way he dotes on you.

Either way, Jeno never understood why Jaemin spent so much time with you.

It didn't hit Jeno why until he stumbled upon you and Jaemin together in Jaemin's room, tied up in pretty pink ribbon underneath Jaemin.

Jeno supposes you're pretty in that moment, helpless under Jaemin with pink ribbon tied in knots and bows traveling on the expanse of your body. It's a pretty contrast against your skin and Jeno knows Jaemin probably picked that shade of pink with the thought of wrapping you in it.

You're crying too, large tears rolling down your face as you tell Jaemin to let you go, that you don't want this, that he can stop anytime he wants and that you won't tell anyone about this. Of course, Jaemin ignores you, opting to bully himself further into your walls, eyes fluttering and groaning as he feels you around him.

Jeno knows you're warm and so tight, almost too tight for Jaemin by the way Jaemins groans and how he tells you that you're "too tight" and that your insides are "not letting go" of him. Jaemin calls you his "little fucktoy" and how you must've been acting that way to get fucked by him.

Jeno guesses it's cute when you shake your head profusely at what Jaemin says, more tears spilling down as you try to form a response from your red, swollen lips. You're struggling against the ribbon, against Jaemin and that brings out a chuckle from him.

It isn't until Jeno bangs his fist against the doorframe that his presence is known and Jaemin invites him to come join him.

It isn't until Jeno is sinking himself into your heat that he truly understands exactly why Jaemin sticks around you.

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notafragilething · 10 hours

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Late Night Buck & Tommy Rambling: I'm Talking about Ryan

This is going to be a slightly different ramble than normal because I'm going to start this (and focus) on the Ryan clip that came out this afternoon. Trigger warning for vague discussions of someone making an attempt at unaliving.

This afternoon Tommy DiDario shared a clip from his interview with Ryan where he is extremely brave, honest and vulnerable and discusses his mental health crisis. In it Ryan shares that he made an attempt on his own life and how that has impacted his life and his views. I'm paraphrasing but he basically discusses how men need to let go of toxic masculinity and be able to lean on their brothers/friends for support. And if they're not able to be there to support you then go find ones that are.

This adds so much context to why he keeps talking about and emphasizing the importance of current storyline with Eddie and Buck. That he wants to show two men who are able to be friends and vulnerable and lean on each other. Because this is something that is very important and personal for him because of what he went through and how bad it got for him.

I know there is a lot of discussions about BuckTommy and Buddie and which one should be happening. Everyone has strong feelings on but I think everyone needs to step back and remember that Buck, Tommy, and Eddie aren't real. They're fictional. Oliver, Lou, and Ryan are real people. I've seen people using Ryan's interviews to suggest he's pushing this platonic storyline because he's homophobic, I've seen people being really dismissive of what he wants and saying making his character queer could be so much more important and impactful. And I think we need to stop with that type of language and discussion moving forward.

I'm not saying you have to get behind and support the storyline he vocally wants. We're all allowed to have our own opinions on what we want to happen with these characters. But we can be more respectful, more understanding and more validating when we discuss them. Especially now that we have this huge piece of context to why he feels this way that we've been missing. Because this is something personal for him and I do not want him to come across people invalidating that or downplaying it's importance. He doesn't deserve that after being so honest and open with us in an attempt to help others.

Other than that, we didn't really get any other updates on what is happening with this week's 911. I think they're likely saving most of the promotions for next week to hype up the finale.

We will be getting the full podcast tomorrow with Ryan and I encourage everyone to go support him. So I'll likely discuss that tomorrow along with giving any other updates that I come across and numbers on the BuckTommy reel.

#911 abc #evan buckley #bucktommy #tommy kinard #tevan #firepilot #eddie diaz #buddie #ryan guzman

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mcuamerica · 3 days

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The Shadowsinger: Fourteen

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Mentions of abuse and SA, SMUT (oral f!rec, tiny bit of shadow play), mention of canon level violence, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Feyre arrives at the Night Court, Rhys requests you to stay at the House for the first week.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen

You stayed at Windhaven, Azriel tended to check in on you more often than Cass or Rhys. He even stayed one night last week, you both staying up into the early morning hours talking about your childhoods and stupid things you used to do when you were young. Every time he came to visit, you couldn’t help but want to spend more and more time with him.

And each week for the following month, you did just what you said you were going to. You joined a new group of Illyrians that were training. You were working on sword training now. You had the blacksmith make a specific set for the females so the males wouldn’t complain or make excuses.

You did better everyday, and by the time the month was up, you had advanced four levels. In just two more months you would be ready to participate in the qualifying course. You watched males do it every day, the course would change with the males. And some males failed, others succeeded. You marked their wrong doings and thought you could truly do it now. But you wouldn’t try to before you were ready. You didn’t need to fail in front of them. It would only prove what they already think.

One day, Mor winnowed to Windhaven, calling you out of the ring. You jogged over to her, frowning at her expression. “Rhys has Feyre at the Palace above Hewn City.” She said. “He wants you there since Feyre knows you… just for today,” she said.

“He called in the bargain?” You asked, glancing back as the males continued their sparring. You were itching to keep going today. But if Rhys needed your help with Feyre, you could sacrifice the afternoon.

“Yes, he did.” She answered. You nodded, holding out your hand. “Take me there.” You said. You still hadn’t been at the Palace above Hewn City before. You'd only ever been to Hewn City a handful of times when Amarantha was inspecting it. From what you remembered, you hoped you didn’t have to enter the Court of Nightmares.

Read Feyre Arrives Drabble here

A month went by since Rhys called in the bargain, you went up another three levels in training, and Rhys started talking to you about what was going on with Feyre. He needed someone to disclose his thoughts to, and you were the one who he thought wouldn’t judge him. Or at least show it. And you gave good advice.

And then Tamlin trapped Feyre in his manor. You were so furious that you offered to go back to the Spring Court and kill him yourself. He wouldn’t even see you coming. Not in the shadows. But Rhys said that would be reckless, not to mention Feyre had a right to it before any of you. And then Rhys after her.

So you stayed in the House for the week that she arrived, knowing she might want a familiar face around that wasn’t Mor or Rhys. She still didn’t trust you much, that you could tell, but you were friendly to her. You still trained with Cassian, you even saw Feyre come up to the ring to watch. Until she was noticed. Then she would run away like a mouse caught stealing food. As if she wasn’t your High Lord’s mate. She clearly didn’t know yet, and you had your own opinions on Rhys’s choice to keep it a secret, but you wouldn’t say anything to her.

And maybe you were glad to spend the time near Azriel. He was staying in the House as well and even when Cassian was there to break up the flirting, it was a little disappointing. You wanted to be alone with Azriel. Not with a chaperon.

Azriel felt the same way. So, the day before you were due to go back to Windhaven, he approached you after your morning training. Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, you felt him studying you as you put on a necklace. “Can I help you, Shadowsinger?” You teased as you turned around.

“Would you like to go out with me today? Maybe for lunch and then a walk through the Rainbow?” He asked. You could’ve sworn your heart stuttered while your stomach flipped.

“I would. Very much.” You said and glanced down at the outfit you wore.

“You are perfect, no need to change.” He said, causing heat to your face.

“Okay, hot shot. Shall we leave now then?” You teased, laughing when he held out an arm for you to take. You rested your hand on his bicep, not missing the slight flex as you did. You gave a small squeeze as you walked up the stairs to go to the roof.

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked as he saw the two of you come up the stairwell.

“Nowhere of your concern.” You said firmly, continuing to walk with Azriel. You noticing a small smirk forming on his lips.

“I gave you an hour for lunch, you better be back by then.” He warned.

“I won’t.” You said and nodded for Az to fly up. “I’m taking the rest of the day off. Have fun.” You said before taking off. You giggled as Azriel and you raced down to the restaurant on the Sidra, still laughing as you landed right outside.

“Lucky I don’t have to pay for that tomorrow.” You said, still quietly laughing to yourself as you took Azriel’s hand and walked in the restaurant.

You and Azriel were friendly with each other now and weren’t strangers to leaning against the other or holding hands. But being out, where anyone in the city could see you, was a little different. It felt more official. Like you and Az were on a date.

The realization hit you when you sat down at the table, waiting for your food. “Is this a date?” You asked, needing it to be clear.

You noticed a red hue flush on Azriel’s cheeks as he took a gulp of his drink. “Yes.” He said. Although he was flustered, he didn’t want to question it.

“Good.” You said. “I was wondering when you were going to ask.” You teased and nudged his leg with yours, smiling. He was different when you two were out in the city compared to when you were alone in the cabin or the House. You knew he had a reputation to upkeep, but at least he was more relaxed in Velaris than Windhaven. There, if a male so much as looked at you the wrong way he was pushing them into the snow. Or mud. Or wall. It pissed you off a little, but you knew he had his own trauma when it came to Illyrians. Though, if they were going to take you seriously, he was going to have to stop doing that.

You weren’t together. You weren’t courting or mates. He had no claim to you. And even if you were, he still should let you protect yourself. Especially if you’re trying to show the Illyrians that females are just as strong and capable as males.

“I suppose I didn’t ask, but I figured it was clear enough.” He said, looking at you for a few moments.

“Why did you ignore me those first few weeks I was here? Did I offend you?” You asked after a silence fell over the two of you.

“Offend me? No… you..” he sighed, looking down at his hands. Azriel never had trouble with his words when speaking to the others, but with you, it was different. He stumbled over them much more than normal. Especially when your eyes were upon him. “You had been through so much and I was… I’ll admit I was very attracted to you. You had an amazing personality… this light that I hadn’t seen in some time. And something pulled me to you. The more time I spent near you… the more I wanted to go further. To spend time alone with you.” Azriel said. You looked at him and felt a smile come to your lips as you listened to him talk.

“But you just got your freedom back. And I didn’t know what you went through Under the Mountain. Only the little Rhys told us. I didn’t want to push you… not so soon after.” He explained.

“To be honest, I think it would’ve been better if you just talked to me about it. I thought you hated me.” You said.

“I think what I felt for you was far from hatred…” he said, heat rising to your face.

“You flatter me, Shadowsinger,” you teased and smiled, thanking the server as they brought your food. You took a bite of the leafy greens, then leaned back. “Will you join me at Windhaven when I return tomorrow? Cassian is coming… but I’d like you there too.”

Azriel nodded, taking a bite of the meat in front of him. “As much as I despise Windhaven and the Illyrian war camps, I’d like to join you.” He said. “Only to see how many levels you gained this week by training with Cassian, and to see the look on a Devlon’s face when he finds out.” He teased and you laughed.

“You know, I think I’m growing on the male.” You said and shrugged. “I’m proving to him that I can do it. And it’s not just talk. Plus, the other females are excelling almost more than the males… though they haven’t allowed them to try using their killing power or Siphons yet.” You said.

“Have you?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I think I would know if I had killing power..” you mentioned.

“Not necessarily. Have you tried using your shadows as a shield before? That’s how mine first came about.” He said and you shook your head, not even knowing that was an option.

“I have only ever used my shadows to bind people… or to conceal myself and travel.” You said, smiling a bit. “And spy, of course. But I still haven’t been able to control them fully. Sometimes.. during my bargain with Amarantha, I couldn’t help when my shadows would tell me something. And they would reveal truths about the Fae to me, ones that I had to disclose to her.” You said, shifting in your spot. Talking about her, about that time, was difficult. You’d met with a priestess in the library, one that was available for any of the harmed females to talk to. She told you that if you didn’t talk about it, the hurt would only get worse. The nightmares wouldn’t go away.

“Did she ever do anything else… besides call in her bargain every chance she got?” He asked.

You pursed your lips, leaning forward. It was such a public place to be talking about this. But the residents of Velaris wouldn’t tell anyone. And if they did… you were pretty sure you wouldn’t care. “If she was disappointed in my spying, she would have her sentries, like the Attor, spread out my wings. Then, she would take a dagger to them just close enough to the tendons so I couldn’t fly for weeks. Once she laced it with bloodbane, and I was indisposed for a month. And I had hallucinations the entire time. Rhys send Nuala and Cerridwen to look after me when he couldn’t. But that was a horrible month.” You said, shuddering at the memories.

“I thought your bargain meant she had to keep them intact.” He asked. You could see the growing anger in his eyes, the way his fist clenched around his glass, almost breaking it.

“She was very specific with how she worded the bargain. All she promised was that she could not clip them, could not make me permanently unable to fly…” You said and frowned, taking a deep breath. “I should’ve made her swear neither her nor anyone on her behalf could even touch my wings without my permission. But I was terrified. And naive… to make a bargain with someone like her.” You said and shook your head. “I’m lucky Rhys was truly as kind as he was… I think I would’ve lost myself there if he hadn’t been.” You said.

“Did she ever… make you watch them?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No, but she would have the sentries spread my wings out.., and instead of ripping them to shreds, she would force her hands on them until I…” you trailed off. “In front of her audience. As a party trick. It was amusing to her to see how much touching an Illyrian’s wings could pleasure them.” You frowned, forcing the tightness of your throat to ease as you sipped your wine. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for anyone to touch my wings like that again.”

Azriel studied your wings. The closer he looked, the more scars he saw. They were small, and had repaired themselves. No doubt by Rhys. But they were still visible. The ones from your father were more prominent, but he could tell the ones that were from Amarantha. They were indeed placed carefully close to the tendons, where it was most painful.

While you thought he would pity you, apologize for what happened even though he had no control over it, his anger only increased. “It’s a good thing she’s dead.” Azriel said.

You let out a strained laugh, a soft smile coming to your lips. “Yes, a very good thing.” You said and took a deep breath. “Wow… enough of that depressing shit, tell me about your favorite place in Velaris.” You said.

You listened as Azriel talked about his favorite place, this small tavern in the Rainbow. They had a special set up where one could request the pianist to play a song and you could sing. You learned another new thing about Azriel. He loved to sing, when he was alone. Or in that one tavern. Of course the Inner Circle knew about it, but he went alone most nights. So, you made him promise you that he would take you there someday. Only so you could show him how horrible you were at singing. And maybe so that you could hear him sing.

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking around the city, tucked under his arm to bring warmth to you from the cold. It was the dead of winter, and it was a nice day out but the wind was a little too brisk to enjoy it properly. Azriel kept you in the city into the night, even taking you to a short play in the Rainbow. He frequented this area a lot, he told you. He loved seeing what the citizens of Velaris created. You noted it, and promised yourself that you would reserve him seats for his birthday, or the next Winter Solstice.

Eventually, you flew back up to the house. You would have preferred to stay in the skies longer, but there was a storm coming in that made the wind too cold to fly for too long. At least for you. Azriel offered to shield you, but you decided against it. You were tired from training in the morning and spending the rest of the day out. By the time you stopped in front of your door, you didn’t want Azriel to leave.

You turned to him, leaning against the door. You really didn’t want to go back into your room. Alone. “I really enjoyed spending the day with you.” You said softly. “Maybe Rhys should steal more High Lord’s girlfriends.” You joked.

He smiled at that, and as he did, his gaze turned into something different. A mixture of lust and fondness. Like he wasn’t ready to leave you either.

“Care to join for me for tea?” You asked, hand slowly finding the doorknob. He only smirked in answer, and opened the door for you. You stumbled back, reaching out to grip his biceps to steady yourself.

You let out a silent laugh, then looked up at him. His hazel eyes gazing into yours. You couldn’t take it anymore.

The next moment, your hands were in his hair and your mouth was on his. You had to go on the tip of your toes just so you could reach him properly. And before you could stumble forward at the effort, he leaned down and picked you up by the thighs. Your shadows guided both of you over to your bed, making sure to push you one way or the other so you didn’t run into chairs. Azriel set you down on the edge of the bed, only bracing his hands on either side of you. You pulled away breathlessly when he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Az..” you let out a soft whimper. He found the spot in your neck that made your core heat further. “Please…” you needed him to be touching you with more than his mouth. Your body was on fire. Every drag of clothing or bedding made you shutter. How could he do this to you, make you want him this much? With just a simple kiss?

“Please what, sweetheart? You need to use your words.” He whispered and you almost finished at his tone. The deep rumble from the back of his throat.

“I need you to touch me.” You replied, pulling him in for another kiss. You let out a whine when he pulled away, but pushed your chest gently down on the bed. Your wings splayed beneath you, and you watched as his hands slowly ran down to your pants.

You bit your lip, holding back a moan as he lifted your sweater slightly to kiss your stomach, then began pulling down the pants from your waist. You lifted your hips to help him.

When they were discarded at the other side of the room, Azriel let out a growl at the thin pair of lingerie you had on. You didn’t pick it because you thought this would happen, but you were feeling a little frisky earlier.

“You are gorgeous.” He whispered, his scarred hands trailing up your thighs. He gave them a light squeeze before pulling down the undergarments, smirking at how slick you were already. “Just for me, sweetheart?” Azriel asked.

You whined, squirming under his gaze. “Just for you, Shadowsinger.” You said, reaching down to cup his cheek. “Now have your dessert.” You commanded. You were never too dominant in the bedroom, but you couldn’t wait.

“Your wish is my command,” he whispered before his head disappeared between your thighs.

You arched your back, a soft moan spurring from your throat as you felt his shadows pin you down on the bed while his tongue gave a gentle lick of your folds. You’d never thought to use your shadows like that. But now, you’d have to ask him how to.

His hands trailed your thighs, squeezing them as he devoured your slick. One hand moved to that bundle of nerves, coaxing your climax further. You called out his name, straining against his shadows. Your hands took his hair, tugging on it as you forced him closer to your core.

He removed his tongue from your center, switching it with two of his fingers. “You like this sweetheart? Having me on my knees?”

“Gods.. Azriel yes.” You moaned, writhing in the grip of his shadows.

As he plunged his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly, he dipped his head again, sucking on your bundle to drive you right over the edge. His fingers continued through your climax, his shadows releasing on their own accord as you arched your back. Your wings fluttered beneath you while you let out a moan you were sure could be heard all the way in Windhaven. He coaxed you out of it just as he coaxed you to it. Pulled out his fingers, he slowly licked them, then pushed himself up and kissed you.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, your moan disappearing when he kissed you again. “You are incredible, (Y/N).” He whispered when he pulled away. You were panting. A slight sweat had formed on your forehead. Your sweater clung to you in an uncomfortable way.

“You are,” you replied, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “Let me repay you.” You whispered, stroking his chin with your thumb. The slight stubble made your core heat again.

“Get some rest, first. You’re tired.” He whispered and kissed you. “Tomorrow, we can talk.” He said, planting a kiss on your temple as he stood up. You sat up on the bed and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t leave.” You said. You weren’t going to deny you wanted to spend the entire night tangled in the sheets with him.

“If I stay, we’ll be up all night. And you need rest for training tomorrow.” He said and leaned down, pecking your lips. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He said and winked before backing up, his shadows swirling around his feet. Like they knew he didn’t need them right now. Yours were doing the same. They knew you were both comfortable around each other and didn’t need them interfering.

“Promise you’ll be there tomorrow?” You asked and a side smile appeared on his lips.

“Promise.” And he left.

He might very well be the death of you. And you were happy to give in, hoping it was slow and sweet.

A/N: ...I'm just gonna leave this here...

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winchesterwild78 · 3 days

Text

Forgotten

Story Warnings: Language, angst, anxiety, accusations of cheating, fluff, SMUT

A/N: I had to write a quick story about a birthday and how Jensen forgot. The idea came to me since my birthday was earlier this week. No disrespect to his family or wife, this is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

Characters: Jensen x Reader-married, Jared, Gen and unnamed characters

All work is my own. Don’t take it. I wrote this and edited quickly. Please overlook any mistakes. Feedback on any of my writing is always welcome.

Minors DNI 18+

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

You sat in your living room answering texts, phone calls and replying to posts on social media. It had been a long but good day at work. Your coworkers surprised you with a cake and some amazing gifts. When you married Jensen you wanted to make sure you were able to keep your job. You enjoyed your coworkers and loved working with kids.

As the calls, texts, and posts kept rolling in your heart broke with each notification. The one person you wanted to hear from the most was Jensen. He was away doing a project so you knew he was busy. As the day wore on your heart broke more. Gen called you to tell you Happy Birthday and to chat. “Hey Y/N, Happy Birthday girl! How have you been today” she asked in her cheerful way. “Hey, Gen. I’m okay. Just trying to keep up with all the birthday wishes. How are you and the family doing” you asked as your voice cracked. “Pretty good, the kids are outside playing and I’m getting ready to cook dinner. Just got off the phone with Jared and he said he and Jensen were wrapped for the day and heading to dinner.” She told you. “Oh, okay. Well I need to get my dinner started too. Thanks for calling me. Bye Gen” you said holding back tears.

You held it together until you hung up. The world around you crumbled as you realized Jensen forgot your birthday. Your heart broke. The rest of the evening was a fog. When you crawled into bed you grabbed your phone and sent Jensen a text.

Me: I’m going to bed. I wish I could have heard from you today. I love you, Jensen.

You sat your phone on the table and turned off notifications. Sleep finally washed over you after crying for about an hour.

The next morning you woke up with a headache. You checked your phone and still nothing. The sadness was replaced with anger. What the hell is so important that he couldn’t even text you back. You scrolled social media and then the anger was replaced with absolute rage. You saw pictures of Jared, Jensen and some of the cast out partying last night. In each picture one of his female costars was hanging all over Jensen.

You growled out “what the fuck! So this is what was more important than me.” You took screenshots and sent them to Jensen.

Me: So this is what was more important than me yesterday?!?! You forgot my fucking birthday and then I see you were out with her and letting her hang all over you. You know what, just fucking stay there!

Jensen was standing beside Jared when his phone went off. He smiled when he saw the notification was from you. Then his heart dropped. Jared noticed the color drain from Jensen’s face. “Dude what’s wrong” he asked. Jensen raked his hands through his hair and down his face. “I fucked up big time man. I forgot Y/N’s birthday yesterday and then she sends me this” he shows Jared the text. “Oh damn. How did you forget her birthday man and why would you let her hang all over you.” Jared asked. “I don’t know. Shit, how am I going to make this right” Jensen said.

Jensen stepped away and called you. It rang and you saw it was him calling. You didn’t answer. He hung up and called back. Jensen did that about 5 times before you finally answered the call. “What?!” You hissed as you answered the phone. “Babe I’m so sorry I fucked up. I didn’t mean to forget your birthday. Please forgive me.” Jensen pleaded.

“Why. You didn’t just forget my birthday Jensen, you let her, of all people HER hang all over you like you two were together. I saw you in the pictures. You fucking enjoyed it. Damnit Jensen. You know how her and I feel about each other. She’s wanted you since she started on the show and she hasn’t been subtle about it either.” You broke down crying. “I am so sorry baby. I swear I don’t want her. I love you more than anything and I swear I’m going to make it up to you.” He said with fear and sadness in his voice. “You know what Jensen, no. I love you but no. There is no fixing what you did and what you allowed to happen” you said sternly.

“I need to go. Goodbye Jensen” you hung up. Jensen stood in place looking at his phone for what seemed like hours. Jared walked over to him and asked what happened. “I blew it man. She doesn’t want to talk to me. She said there isn’t anyway to fix this. I don’t know what to do man” Jensen said with tears in his eyes.

Jared grabbed him and said “Go home! Go to your wife. Make her listen to you and make her feel like she’s the only woman in the world. If you love her and want to fix this then go. I’ll talk to the director you book a flight!” Jensen pulled Jared into a hug and took off towards his trailer to get a flight home.

You were sitting on your bed with a picture from your wedding day. You both looked so happy and so in love. You felt incredibly lucky to have met him and to have fallen in love with him, and to have him fall in love with you. You held the picture to your chest and cried. You had always felt not good enough for him and his newest co-star was a model and didn’t hide the fact she was in love with him. She found every excuse to touch him and be close to him. She’s made snarky comments about you and to you. The last time you were around her you both got into a heated argument that almost resulted in an assault charge.

You laid down clutching the photo and cried yourself to sleep. You didn’t care if it was the middle of the day. Your heart was shattered and all you wanted to do was fall asleep to the memory of a happier time.

Jensen found a flight that left within the hour and he booked it. He packed quickly and Clif got him to the airport fast. “Go get your girl man” Clif said as Jensen took off towards security. Jensen boarded the plane and sent you a text.

J: Baby I know I fucked up. I love you and I’m going to make this right. I’ll love you until my dying breath Mrs Y/N Ackles. Today, tomorrow, forever.

You heard your phone go off but you ignored it. Soon sleep fell over you and you dreamed of your wedding day and of the wedding night. Jensen had always been an incredible lover but your wedding night was something else. He was so gentle and loving. You two explored every inch of each other’s body and you made love so many times. Even in a deep sleep the memory brought a smile to your tear stained face.

Jensen’s legged bounced nervously as the plane approached the gate. He turned his phone off airplane mode and checked his messages. There still wasn’t anything from you. “Shit! I fucking blew it.” Jensen mumbled under his breath. He sent Jared a text to let him know he landed and was getting ready to leave the plane. Jared sent him a text and told him everything was good at work and they gave him 2 weeks off for the “family emergency” Jared told them Jensen had.

Jensen: Thanks brother. I owe you one.

Jared: No you don’t. That’s what we do. Now go fix this.

As soon as the plane doors opened Jensen was running towards the exit. He grabbed an Uber and headed home. It took a good half hour to get home. The driver was polite and obviously was a fan. Jensen did his best to answer questions and be friendly but his mind kept wandering to you.

When the car pulled in the driveway Jensen noticed how dark the house looked. He was afraid you had left him. He got out of the car and ran up the steps to the door. Jensen pulled out his keys and unlocked the door and walked in. He called your name but there was no answer. Each step he took was met with silence and his heart sank.

He climbed the stairs and walked to your bedroom door. He opened it and saw you lying on the bed still holding the picture. He smiled and walked over to you. If you were holding that picture there had to be hope. He sat on the bed and softly touched your face and whispered your name. “Y/N, baby wake up. I’m home sweetheart” Your eyes fluttered open and you saw your husband sitting on the bed. You sat up shocked. “Jens, what are you doing here.” You asked him. “I told you I was going to fix this. I’m so sorry baby. I really am.” He said as he caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

You threw your arms around him and lunged into his lap. He pulled you in for a kiss and as soon as his lips were on yours you deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his hands ran up your body. He picked you up and laid you down on the bed. Jensen hovered over you and kissed your lips. Working his way down your neck and on your collarbone. His hand lifted the hem of your shirt and his fingers danced up your body.

Fire ignited on your skin with every touch. He pulled your shirt over your head revealing your bra covered breasts and he bit his lip. Your hands pulled at his shirt until he pulled it over his head with one pull. Your hands ran up his toned chest. Your fingers dancing over each freckle.

Jensen reached around your back and with one hand unhooked your bra. You helped him remove it and your full, ample breasts sprang free. Jensen growled as he looked at them and took a nipple in his mouth. You threw your head back with a loud moan of pleasure. Electricity surged through your body as Jensen worked each nipple. He sucked and nibbled as you felt the heat and slick pooling between your legs.

Jensen leaned you back and pulled off your pants and panties with one pull. He used his knee to separate your legs. Biting his lip as he looked at your body on full display. He looked down and noticed the slick sliding between your folds. He took his fingers and parted your lips and felt the wetness. “Damn baby, all this for me” he asked. You nodded. He took two fingers and hooked them inside your dripping pussy. Pumping in and out. The smell and sound of your arousal in the air.

Jensen locked his eyes on yours as he helped you chase your release. Thoughts of the last few days started to fade as you looked your husband in the eyes. Seeing all his love and desire behind his green eyes.

You bit your lower lip and moaned Jensen’s name. “God I love when you moan my name sweetheart” Jensen panted. Jensen cupped your breast with his free hand and licked at your hard nipple. As he nibbled your nipple he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. His thumb rubbed circles on your swollen clit. “Jensen I’m close. I’m gonna cum” you breathed out. “Cum for me baby” he whispered in your ear.

You came hard and screamed his name. As you came Jensen’s lips captured yours sending chills through your body. As you came down from your high you looked at your husband and bit your lip. “Please Jens, I need you” He smiled softly and removed his pants and boxers. His already hard cock sprang free and on there was a bead of precum that danced in the soft light. You leaned forward and licked the pink tip of his long, engorged cock. Causing it to twitch at your touch.

You licked your lips and took his length in your wet, warm mouth. Jensen moaned loudly. Soon the room was filled with the sounds of Jensen grunting and the wet sounds of flesh being sucked. Jensen pulled away and you frowned. “No baby. Tonight is about you. I don’t want to cum yet” He whispered as he cupped your face. You nodded and leaned back.

As you laid back Jensen placed himself between your legs and lined himself up. He gazed down at you with lust and love in his eyes and you nodded. He pushed his length inside you and you gasped with pleasure. He stopped giving you time to adjust but you moved your hips, silently begging for more. Jensen pushed all the way in bottoming out and you gasped loudly as he moaned.

He kissed you as he set a slow pace. Your hands on his chest. Lightly touching his toned body. Gripping his large biceps with each thrust. His hands running over your breasts as they bounced with each movement of your bodies. Jensen leaned down and kissed you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips trying to push him in deeper. Jensen took that as an invitation to pick up the pace. He hooked both his hands around each leg and lifted them up on his broad shoulders. You moaned at the change of position. Jensen picked up the pace and you pushed back against him. He was going deeper now and hitting that sweet spot. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge again. “Jens I’m going to cum again” came from your lips. “Me too baby. Cum for me again” Jensen demanded in a voice laced with passion and need. You both came hard. Jensen grunted as his hot seed coated your walls and you screamed his name raking your nails down his back.

He let himself go soft before he pulled out. As he got up he kissed the tip of your nose and said he’d be right back. He returned with a warm cloth to clean you both up. He threw the cloth in the hamper and laid beside you. Taking you in his arms he placed kisses all over your face causing you to giggle.

“Jensen I can’t believe you came home in the middle of filming. You’re going to lose your job. I know how important your job is to you”you said with concern in your voice. “Nothing is ever more important to me than you. It’s worked out thanks to Jared and you have me for 2 weeks before I have to leave. Please believe me when I tell you how sorry I am I forgot your birthday. It was not intentional and I don’t want anyone but you. You’re my world and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you. I love you, Y/N” He whispered as he pulled you tighter.

“I love you too, Jensen. I’m sorry I overreacted and got so jealous. I know you don’t want anything to do with her and you’re an incredibly faithful husband. I still can’t believe you flew home for me” you said with shock in your voice. Jensen pulled you closer and kissed your forehead “I’d do whatever I needed to do to get home to you when you need me. There is nothing and nobody more important to me than you.”

You smiled at him and kissed his lips. “Jens, about that. I don’t think that’s going to be entirely true anymore.” He looked confused “what, why would you say that. You’re the most important person in my life.” You looked your husband in the eyes and cupped his face. “Jensen, I’m pregnant” you whispered tenderly. He smiled and kissed you. “I’m going to be a dad” he questioned. “Yes my love. You’re going to be an amazing dad” you replied. “I found out on my birthday and I got so excited I couldn’t wait to tell you. That’s why got so upset. My greatest moment of joy and I couldn’t wait to tell you. Telling you now and seeing your reaction is far better than telling you on the phone. I love you, husband” you said gently. “I love you too, wife and our little bean” he pulled you in for a kiss as he rubbed your belly.

You forgave Jensen and realized sometimes the best gifts are worth waiting for.

Forever as tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @jensengirl83 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373

#hes gorgeous #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles #so damn sexy #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x reader #jackles

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modelbus · 9 hours

Text

I swear after this I will do requests... this is just something old for me to put up! I've had a busy past few weeks and I swear I'm fighting to do my requests. Disclaimer: I haven't played COD, and reality is what I decide (kidding, feel free to educate me on COD)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Gn!Reader

Romance Readings

It was a guilty pleasure, and you knew it. Watching your money drain (as if you had any other need for it) as you indulged was saddening, but not saddening enough to make you stop. Other people got into drugs, or smoking, or alcohol, or some other high-inducing thing. Not you, though.

You got into romance novels.

The enjoyment of them started when you were a kid, curled up on a couch with a book splayed across your legs. Romance was, at its core, an idealized concept. Something to be chased but never obtained. And for you, the chasing was in reading about the relationships. You preferred the good - who doesn't? - but a bit of angst never hurt a soul. Certainly not you.

But in the military, you couldn’t exactly tout a romance book around. “The Seven Year Slip” was adorned with a cute and cartoony cover, sure to catch Soap’s eye and invite endless teasing. So, instead, you got clever about it. Price had a plethora of bookshelves in his office, filled to the brim with war books. All nice and shiny hardcovers with removable dust jackets.

All you had to do was slip one of those dust jackets over the cover, and it suddenly seemed like you were the best soldier ever. Everyone was none the wiser, and you got to indulge in what you enjoyed doing: smiling at the fictional couples you wish you were.

When you pulled it out to sit guard over the safehouse, Soap had groaned. Loudly.

“You take this soldier shit too seriously.” He had grumbled, rolling his eyes. You didn’t retort, didn’t bring attention, didn’t care enough.

His (mostly joking) opinion wasn’t important to you. Soap was nice, you loved joking with him, but when it came to this? You can put up with the teasing comments over what they think your reading habits are. God forbid they actually find out what you’re reading.

That’d be a very shit day for you.

“Never seen someone smile so much at a military tactic handbook.”

Your head jerks up, eyes wide, smile vanishing from your face. You knew that gruff voice, although you were far more used to it without the tilt of amusement in it. Ghost.

“...It’s riveting.” You say defensively, knowing Ghost isn’t the type to make a quip and let it go.

“I’m sure. I don’t remember it having characters, though.”

Oh. Oh shit.

You’ve been caught.

“Can’t believe you got away with it for this long.” Ghost huffs, sitting down next to you. “Hand it over.”

Wordlessly, you hold the book out for him. He thumbs through the pages, keeping a finger on the page you were on so you don’t lose your place. After a moment he slips off the fake dust jacket, holding up the real cover: a cheesy image of dandelions being blown away.

“Could be worse.” He notes aloud.

“...there have been worse.” You admit, cheeks flushing red.

He chuckles, going back to the page you were reading. It’s only after a minute has passed that you realize he’s fucking reading it, making you lunge for the book to pull it away.

“Don’t read it!” Carefully, you slide the fake dust cover back onto it to hide the actual book.

“I’m bored out here, and you’re denying me the only entertainment?” Ghost asks, somehow monotone and amused at the same exact time.

You hate him. Next time he’s getting his ass kicked in the field, you won’t help that asshole.

“It’s a romance book.” You spit, actively feeling your cheeks get redder by the second. “Hardly something you’re interested in.”

“I’m interested in not fallin’ asleep. I’m reading it.”

“It’s my book!”

“And I could tell everyone it’s a romance book.”

You stare at him, and he stares back. Ghost is blackmailing you. You’re getting fucking blackmailed over a book. Was it even worth it at this point?

“I’m still trying to read it. And no, you can’t read it aloud.” You try feebly, but your grip on the book is already loosening.

“I’ll read over your shoulder. Move it.”

“Ass.” You grumble, but shift so he can loom over your shoulder ominously. Settling your eyes on your book, you choke on air at the scene you’re on.

It’s definitely not a scene you’d want Ghost reading over your shoulder for, that’s certain. Your headstrong lieutenant, reading a rated-R scene. You’re never going to be able to look him in the eye again, oh God.

“Keep reading, doll.” Ghost says lowly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You dug the grave. Lie in it.”

Swallowing, you focus on the book, trying to speed-read through this part. Behind you, you can practically feel Ghost grinning. “What if I wasn’t done reading the page?” He asks.

“Shut the fuck up.”

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley

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oldshrewsburyian · 2 days

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oh dr oldshrewsburyian share your wisdom with us — if i did want to write a story that had Fantasy Canon Law™️ and where religion was an important part of both the society at large and the individual characters, are there any non-fiction (or fiction!) texts that would aid me in this quest? considering that my own exposure to religion begins and ends with eating eggs on easter and getting present on christmas i can't really draw on it lol

*scratches chin thoughtfully* I genuinely did not expect Fantasy Canon Law™ to become this interesting, but here goes. As a note: since we're talking about canon law, we're talking about Christianity, rather than a/any religion, but of course there are ways you could adapt this for a fantasy religion. A couple of recommendations:

James A. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval Europe, a classic

Ruth Mazo Karras, Sexuality in Medieval Europe: Doing Unto Others, a more recent classic, which is delightfully well-written, and designed to be potentially accessible to student audiences (unlike Brundage's work)

I think one of the things that GRRM is missing is that a big part of what the infrastructure of the medieval church was designed to do was to provide both social support and accessible theological education. But this doesn't mean, of course, that there isn't a vast range of ways in which people can decide that religion (and its Fantasy Canon Law™) is important or unimportant to them.

To take your illustration of eating eggs on Easter: I think you could do something really interesting with that as a way of illustrating Fantasy Canon Law™ and its effects. I take it you don't observe either Lent or its fast, or attend church on the principal feasts and holy days. But you do eat eggs on Easter! I love eating eggs on Easter in part, of course, because they're off the menu during Lent, if one is observing the traditional fast. And they are so rich and delicious. But eggs are no less delicious, and painting them is no less fun, if one is choosing to keep a less strict Lenten observance, or not keeping one at all. In a 'verse with Fantasy Canon Law™, everyone might love the equivalent special food, and the traditional of eating it, equally, even if affected by the reason for its seasonal connection differently.

#asks and answers #fun with medievalism #fantasy canon law™#a medievalist does got

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the-hydroxian-artblog · 3 days

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Considering the last asks about Merch Mimics, I want to ask how common Hex's situation is, that being remembering being part of a show/series/another world and suddenly appearing one day as a toy into a world where your previous home is fictional?

What I'm really wondering about is if before the Merch Mimic becomes that identity in cases like her's (and Jack and Stack's, I'm assuming), if the Mimic in the larval stages imprints on the Idea of that character and that's why they have these memories, or if it's a soul transmigration situation in that this character did exist in another world and then suddenly they exist in another but translated into another form of being.

I'm assuming that Merch Mimics are more malleable in origin than this, as in a multiple ways for them to come into being, but these two particular possibilities of origin sounds very interesting to me!

Great question! The answer is meant to be very ambiguous, but there's something about the fictional worlds these characters seem to come from that seem more "real" than the kind of stuff a human would just come up with off the top of their head. In this setting, alternate realities are known as "paradigms". Paradigms only exist in the abstract as far as anyone is aware, but if a mimic gains knowledge of a paradigm, it can just mimic whatever it sees in that reality and essentially "port" it over to real life. The implication is that mimics like Hex or Jack perceived realities similar to this in their larval stages, and manifested in the real world as characters from those paradigms, using human dreams and ideas as guidance for finding those realities.

This relates to how stories seem to have lives of their own; writers moreso "find" stories rather than truly create them, you could say. Stories likewise seem to "possess" people, with whole swaths of people in consensus that a story has to follow a certain logic. Paradigms are often not physical at all, so there isn't normally any way to just yoink infinite matter from other worlds. Ideas though? Those transcend any such limitations.

There's meant to be some ambiguity as to how accurately someone like Hex is actually the "real" Hex, but her fictional anime backstory is having been a memetic virus that infected a robot and became a threat that way, so waking up in the real world by using the same method is literally like a tuesday afternoon for her. All according to keikaku-- Or perhaps that's just her rationalization of her own constructed memories. They aren't really mutually exclusive, it's the same thing as far as she's concerned. Also. do not kin her. that's what she wants. you don't know what you're unleashing on this world if you actually succeed

#Hex if you became real and are now reading this #please don't bite people #it's really rude #moaccyrk #Merch Mimic #Fantasy Race Design #FAQ #Hex

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tabr1-s · 3 days

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sunday rant and personal frustrations with him that i begun to write at 6am running on an entire 3 and a half hours of sleep (my cats woke me up.....)

(tldr at the end. i might be as bad as Sunday in terms of yap mileage (yappage) but i'll do one better than him and provide you with the concise version if you scroll all the way down.)

i have never felt such intense emotions about a character's moral viewpoint... Ever. and i've liked characters that were mass murderers before. morals (or lack thereof) usually never played a significant role in whether i liked a character or not (unless they did something i considered worse than plain ol murder, then i wouldn't associate with them), and 99% of the time i could find the character's motivations understandable under the circumstances that they were in.

and, technically, i can understand where Sunday is coming from too.

but that doesn't stop me from being Absolutely pissed at him.

(sunday-esque yap about myself incoming, i will eventually get to the point (which i will highlight))

as someone who has been told that i have "ocd features" Multiple times by my psychiatrist (practically each session) i understand the need for control. my obsessiveness manifests in the form of feeling the need to control practically everything - my current obsession for control being my own emotions, which extends to needing to control entire situations, and in turn makes me severely overthink all the possible outcomes to those given situations. i've also been guilty of controlling others before, and having the mentality of "i know what's best for you". hell, i still feel like that a lot, but i really try to push it back.

and this need for "control" is mainly the reason why i even find comfort in fiction. because it's oftentimes very predictable to me (it also made me think of how i do not find any interest in reading books, but i love writing stories of my own. particularly fan-fiction. and the only time i can feel comfortable enough to feel romance is towards fictional characters - because i control the narrative! it's something to think about.). if i like a character or a narrative, it's easy for me to pick apart where the writers will go with that story. and, even if the story turns out to disappoint me/be different than what i hoped for, i would still be Prepared for that possibility.

i somehow... failed to prepare for what would happen with Sunday.

i had set my sights on the wrong thing for 2.2. i invested my whole energy on trying to comfort myself that hoyo wouldn't take the ipc colonialism route (basically turning out to be capitalist/colonialist apologists) with penacony (which i Guess will be explored in 2.3? but now that i have some more context on the story and how it's unraveling i'm not as anxious about it anymore), that i overlooked a lot of other things that could've gone wrong.

namely, my favourite hsr character to be... Like that. (i'm not even being intentionally vague. i'm just dumbfounded)

i had Heard of the theory that Sunday is possessed by Ena (which didn't particularly make sense to me, and i refused to look at leaks concerning Sunday lest they upset me. either way i Really hated that theory. plus, Sunday being said to have ocd would've been an incredibly cheap way to foreshadow that he's "possessed" by the Order. you can't just create your first(?) important/playable character that has a confirmed mental illness and then go "it's okay actually he's Normal! he was just possessed". i took this very personally. and still am.), and saw a lot of theories concerning his involvement with the Order as well. i shut it all out, because i didn't like the implications of that.

which in turn made me Not think/comfort myself regarding the possibilities that he truly Was connected to the Order.

...

well, rest in pieces, me - it's always the things i don't pay much attention to/ignore/fail to think about. which is actually a bit strange because i was not expecting him to be an entirely sane person from the start - he was a politician type, a leader, and a manipulator, to name a few things. that much was obvious. in 2.0-2.1 i wouldn't have been surprised if it turned out that he was the one that "killed" Robin. again, nothing was out of the question. but, 2.1 showed a different side of him. one that cared for his sister and (seemingly) listened to her and cared about what she thought. so they became quite a comforting little sibling duo to me. tragic, yet you could depend on their mutual trust in eachother... or so i thought.

and then he... went and did all That. which just showed me how, despite him caring for his sister, he was still putting other things above her.

to conclude with my yap: in a sense, he is just my "grim reflection of the self". and although i feel sympathetic towards my past self and how naive and selfish i used to be, there are some flaws of mine i will never forgive myself for. and, Sunday, in a way, reminded me of... Everything. it was almost triggering.

(hey, writing this all down in one place helped me calm down! (it's a neverending cycle that will continue tomorrow. all it will take is seeing a post concerning him and his sister and i'll get pissed anew) yay!)

the point(s) (aka my qualms):

- how sunday manipulated robin + was planning to use her in the charmony festival to complete his plan. she was going to be an unwilling participant in creating a "utopia" that she would've been absolutely against, but he didn't stop to fucking. fill her in, maybe? talk it out? the sheer disrespect on the concept of free will and on the fact that your own sister is a human being of her own sickens me

- he should've cherished the relationship he had with her (x1000 because that's the ONE FAMILY MEMBER YOU HAD LEFT AND THAT IS SUCH A PRIVILEGE!!! IMAGINE HAVING SOMEONE CARE ABOUT YOU WHOLEHEARTEDLY AND THEN YOU GO AND THROW IT AWAY!!! YEAH I'VE ALMOST DONE THE SAME EXACT THING MULTIPLE TIMES (AND STILL WOULD) BUT THAT'S WHY I ALSO KNOW HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE MOVE IT IS!!!)

- he forsook his own self and shoved down his own biases and interests (fucking rat. you can't change the fact you're human and i'm very much saying that from experience) to become something Grander than life itself and in fucking turn isolated himself and shut out the one person who actually cared and then had the Gall to complain about being misunderstood/alone. (when you're finally sitting in your unreachable throne in this "dream" that you've created, who will you blame for being lonely? who will you blame when you have no one to fall back into? no one to support you? when everybody you did this for forsakes You?)

- HE DIDN'T EVEN HUG ROBIN BACK AT THE LAST SCENE. LIKE SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR FAILED PLANS AND COME DOWN FROM THE CLOUDS A LITTLE - THE JOY YOU SEEK FOR IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!

- all i hoped for was that sunday and robin would reunite and get the chance to be happy together, and the only true reason i'm mad is because i'm guilty of a lot of the same self sacrificial behaviours as him and very much understand the sentiment of "my loved ones would be better off without my negative presence and influence". but instead of empathizing with him, i feel betrayed. i thought he was better than me. i thought he was someone worthy of admiration, and that doesn't come easily from me. despite all the warning signs i fell for his obvious facade, and i Very rarely get taken by surprise - especially in a way like this.

- if it wasn't for the fact that Robin would feel sad if Sunday died i would personally go and strangle him myself

tldr; i'm just a big baby that placed a lot of faith on Sunday and his relationship with Robin post 2.1 and my ego took a Huge hit once he turned out to be just some immature emo idealist type. (come on, man - i genuinely thought you were better than me! someone worthy of respect! and i usually have a feeling of superiority over others! this was the biggest compliment/act of faith i could give! (talking to a wall (fictional character (I'M FUCKING UPSET))))

#despite all this i do not hate him. i'm just really disappointed at how he acted with robin #i will still be pulling for him; at least that way i'll be able to have both the siblings on the same team #^(haha it's like they never got separated! i'm completely fine and not delusional)#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr 2.2 #hsr 2.2 spoilers #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #robin hsr #hsr robin #ramblings #1442 words and i could've written waaay more if i didn't get tired/bored of this

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blazinghotfoggynights · 1 day

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This fandom is turning into a madhouse!

Why? 😢

What is all the arguing about? Why are fans taking sides in multiple standoffs. How are these wars starting?

What I have to say may not be well-received by some sides in the numerous boxing matches active in this fandom right now, but I'm going to say my piece. 🤷‍♀️ I am not responsible for white-hot rage, tears, or epiphanies that you don't want. So, proceed at your own risk. Or whatever.

Buddie vs BuckTommy

BuckTommy fans, Buddie fans were not seeing things. Those characters were written as being pulled into each other's orbits and it was more than platonic. It wasn't blatant, and it has been hinted it couldn't be due to the network. Even now, with Eddie and Buck being in relationships, and Eddie somehow being in multiple, they are still using Buddie to promote the show. If they are not going to happen, then why the use that to get ratings? That is the definition of baiting.

Buddie fans, BuckTommy is canon. They may not last or they may be endgame. We won't know until it happens. Why lose your mind over fictional characters that one man controls? It's simple. If you feel they played the Buddie card only to put Eddie in a mess of epic proportions and make Buck become Evan Buckley-Kinard, tune out and keep fanfic alive. Do you know how many fandoms have followed that process? If Tommy was brought back just as a plot device, then it's not much better than baiting.

You know what would be hilarious? Buck meets a third person, falls in love, and marries them.

It would shut both sides down if it was a woman. (I may have a petty streak and if I were in charge, I could see making it Taylor or Abby.)😈🤣(Maybe then the warring factions could call a truce over tears and beers.)

Tommy Kinard was not a good guy. That's not delusion. That's canon.

BuckTommy fans, the character of Tommy Kinard has done multiple problematic things, and the writers are not addressing any of it. Telling people to get over it is not cool. Being closeted or confused is no excuse for calling Chimney the delivery guy and Hen the b-word. He was actively and willingly participating is some of the worst forms of bullying someone can experience. He wasn't a teenager who was just trying to fit in. He was a grown man. No excuses for his behavior are acceptable and, in the real world, you would be hard-pressed to find his victims forgiving him. They would not be his friends.

I can see why women, especially black women and LGBTQ women, and non-white men, especially Asian men, would say they don't like how his past transgressions are being ignored. He was openly racist and misogynist. That is canon. Nothing was misunderstood or misinterpreted. Tommy was a d*ck.

If you watch how Lou is portraying Tommy, there are indications that what we saw in season 2 is a part of his personality. The lack of discussion about his past could be intentional because it may come up in the future.

How has no one noticed how he speaks to Buck sometimes? Maybe I am just older than most in the fandom and have experienced a lot more, but there are things about Tommy Kinard's behavior that don't seem very...nice. The way he speaks to Buck sometimes is like he is dismissing what he thinks or feels. Sometimes he seems to be speaking to Buck as if he is a child. I was offended on Buck's behalf.

The biggest CAUTION sign so far was when he admitted he is jealous of the 118. What? That doesn't even make sense! Think about it. Tommy went out of his way to make the 118 hostile toward anyone who wasn't a het white male. When Bobby took over and changed the culture, he brought respect and openness which cultivated the friendship, and eventual love, that created the family the 118 is now. Tommy could have easily come out to the team under Bobby, apologized, and began building the bridges he burned. But he did not.

Tommy chose his side but now he is jealous of the work Bobby put in to clean up Gerrard's mess? Could it be something else giving his jealousy life? Could Tommy be resentful that the exclusive, prejudice environment he happily embraced, and helped keep in place, under Gerrard disappeared and because an inclusive tight-knit family created from the outcasts?

That is a very real possibility and if that is the case, it says a lot about Tommy Kinard and could lead to an interesting arc in the remainder of season 7 and season 8.

Eddie Diaz is not a bad guy.

I think Eddie has been teetering on the edge for many seasons. TBH, I am surprised he has been as stable as he has for this long. That man is walking meatsuit full of trauma.

People who are mentally stable and have healthy coping skills do not join underground fighting rings, smash their bedrooms, or ask relative strangers to watch his child and move in. There have been many indications for multiple seasons that Eddie is not in a good place but keeping it together for the sake of his son.

I do not think Eddie is trying to hurt anyone at all. I think he is trying to claw his way out of some hell his mind has had him in for a long time.

That man needs to be taken to the nearest inpatient facility and admitted. (If you are thinking of making a negative comment stigmatizing mental health awareness or treatment, reconsider, choose not to, and move along. Mental health is just as important as physical.)

Eddie Diaz is in no condition to be in a relationship with anyone except a therapist right now.

Whether you want Buddie, Eddie/Marisol, or Eddie/Wife's Ghost, if you want to see anyone with this guy right now, I have to ask you if you are feeling okay.

Remember how Eddie's parents didn't want him dragging Christopher down with him? Right now, it looks like Eddie's carefully, barely held together existence is going to go boom. Anyone in the blast radius is in danger. The only dates Edmundo Diaz should be having is at least three times weekly and begin with a mental health professional asking him if he has something he wants to talk about.

Evan "Buck" Buckley is a grown ass man. Stop infantalizing him! They even do it on the show.

I can't be the only one who sometimes forgets that thick mountain of a man is not a young twenty-something just wandering out into the world.

He's in his thirties. He's been in therapy. He's grown. He has to do what all of us adults do: Make decisions, wait to find out what happens, and deal with the consequences.

Say it with me: Buck is not a baby.

No one who has any real knowledge is going to tell fandom what the future holds for the show.

Who doesn't get that?

There are unhinged fans on every side of every current fight.

If you are attacking actors, writers, producers, networks, or anyone else, I have to wonder if you should be in a room next to Eddie after someone who loves him takes him where he should go.

That type of behavior used to get you a room with soft walls and a free jacket that left you in a permahug.

You can make anything you want happen with the characters.

It's call fanfiction and AO3 is wonderful. If there is a great story that hasn't been told, get on Word, Docs, Libre, or whatever you have and start making it a reality!

Authors have major support and respect from the fans.

If writing isn't your thing, but you are great at prompts and don't mind authors taking your prompts and creating stories, find a way to share them!

There are positive ways to channel your eyerolls, frustration, anger, or whatever. Draw fanart. Write fic. Write ideas and throw them at those who draw fanart and write fanfic.

To the whole fandom: CHILL! PLEASE!

I don't want to watch another fandom I enjoy implode. I don't want to see other fandoms assume everyone in this fandom is in need of the soft room and permahug fashion I mentioned earlier.

Been there, done that.

At the end of the day, everyone needs to remember:

It's not real.