“you're my angel.”

Key

★ - NSFW

☆ - Suggestive

♥ - Fluff

♥ ♥ - Extra Super Fluffy

∎ - Angst / Sad

One Shots

i'm here for you. ♥ ∎

pats on the head. ♥

patterns. ♥ ♥

long day. I | II ♥ ∎

sleepless. ♥

late. ♥

snowday suffering. ♥

experimentation. ★

drunk competition. ♥

wandering hands ♥

Blurbs

1:52am. ♥

11:33pm. ♥ ∎

6:37pm. ♥

3:16am. ♥ ∎

Requests

long day II. ♥ ∎

mental health matters. ♥ ♥

Beyond thankful you urged Mark to buy a couch with larger cushions, because it allowed for moments like this. Thighs spread, knees hiked up, Mark on his own between them. Your ankles locked behind his legs, keeping him from leaving; as if he even dared to move. While your lovely boyfriend was focused on some bogus TV show thrown on, his hands roamed your bare thighs, slow and idle on their own accord. There was high chance he didn't even notice the movement his own body was doing, just for the fact alone it was a normal occurrence.

More often than not, your evenings were spent downstairs, on the couch finding shows or movies of interest for the night. Mark liked to swap off dinner duty every other night, though in the end the other always butts in to help just minutes in. Cleaning was also done as a duo because it was easily over within maybe twenty minutes. 

Entranced by the show yourself, you barely register the movement of Mark's hands until they both stop mid-thigh to squeeze, gentle but reminding of his touch. That makes you turn, eyes flit from hands to face as you notice how alike he was to a child zoned into an iPad; you mocked him as a child for being on his every time without fail. His hands don't relent, his attention doesn't waver, not until you twitch a leg and he looks down to where his palms sit. "Why are you so warm?" Mark huffs, not at all upset but feigning jealousy. Your body tended to run hot, leaving you to deal with a very clingy boyfriend under the blankets, leeching your body heat and stealing kisses.

Ethan was lagging behind. You were feeling tipsy yourself but he was getting a little woozy. The way his body would tip to one side until he noticed and righted himself told you a lot. Mark cleared his throat, and both you and Ethan turned to look at him. Your smile dropped the moment the empty Truly box left the olders' hand and tumbled to the floor. "Automatic win." He says, nodding towards you.

The smile returns as you slide from your seat, a little stumble to your step as you saunter up to the fridge. Out comes an unopened twelve pack of Coors, your least favorite alcohol. "You hate beer." Mark comments, pushing himself off the counter to stand at the island. You slide it to Ethan and stand next to Mark as the drinks are opened. Ethan passes you a Coors and next thing you know, you've had five.

"Uh. Fuck." You giggle, swaying in the middle of the kitchen. Ethan was... laying on the floor next to you. Hands over his eyes, face flushed, stupid drunk smile. Mark now sat at the island, chin in the palm of his hand. He found you and Ethan amusing to watch.

Until now. Your stomach churned, your heart sinking. You were absolutely terrified to puke. It was a childhood fear for no real reason. "Mark," you whispered, hands out to steady your rocking, "Mark I think I'm gonna throw up."

He'd known you long enough to understand why it was a problem. He sighs, "alright. Fun over. You're both cut off." Ethan cries, but you don't catch whatever he said. You're no longer a happy drunk, you're scared to move in fear of emptying your stomach. Mark is gentle in the way he presses a hand to your back, slowly guiding you over to the couch. Some animated movie plays and you're barely aware of it as you're helped into laying down.

"Mark, I need water. I'm gonna go get water." You slur, and immediately sit up. Your head hits the couch pillow a second later, feeling like you'll upchuck if you try to do a single thing. "I'll get you water, just chill for a second." Mark murmurs, smoothing the hair stuck to your forehead. Your heavy eyes shut, and you buzz in and out of consciousness as you vaguely hear Ethan get ushered down the hall to his room.

When Mark returns, it's with water and blankets. He hands you the drink first, keeping a hand on the cup as yours cradles it just to make sure it doesn't spill all over. "Are you okay now?" He asks softly, setting your beverage down on the coffee table. You're only now aware of being in tears, very disorientated and drunk. He's leaning over you, using the back of the couch to brace himself. Unable to think right, your hands come up and do the grabby hand motion.

After some very slurred convincing, the footrest of all three couch cushions are kicked out so Mark can squeeze onto the couch behind you. You're warm, content, and very tired now watching whatever movie played on TV, Mark pressed to your back and holding you close. Still both in jeans and not in comfortable clothes, you're comfy how you are. And scared if you move, it'll break the peaceful atmosphere.

"I hope you know I'm not dealing with your hangover." Mark whispers, patting your hip. You giggle and turn in his arms, face shoved to his chest. Unashamed you take in the scent of his cologne, listening to the rumble of his chuckle. "Alright Tipsy, go to sleep." He says, and your mind shuts off almost immediately. Tomorrow was gonna be one hell of a day full of headache and nausea but Mark was gonna help you, even though he said he wouldn't. He's got a little bit of a soft spot for you.

those times had began to dwindle lately, to the point you joining him was a rare occasion. today, he was editing late into the night. you had retired to be not long ago, leaving the house eerily silent and almost empty feeling. he tak-ed away at his keyboard, trying to line a frame up to merge with another clip. his door, cracked open to cycle cool air, creaks open. assuming it's just one of the animals, he pays no mind. "Mark?" you yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes unsuccessfully. your partner turns to you, surprised at your sudden visit. you were bundled in the soft blanket you loved so much, looking like the hunchback with the way you wore it. "yes, my love?" Mark rasped, extending a hand in invitation as he swiveled his chair towards you. you pad towards him, taking his hand with two of your own and holding it tight, rubbing quarter circles into his palm. you yawn again, "when will you be done?" Mark turned to look at the time on his dashboard, eyes blowing wide once he truly sees how late it is. he turns back to you and immediately apologizes, "I think it'll still take an hour more. do you want to sit with me?"

with a nod, he pulls you into his lap, back to his chest. you sit and watch him work, his arms caging you between him and his desk. small talk comes easy, offering a comfortable silence in between random blips of vocalized thoughts. talk about recent news, politics, what you two should do next week. his heart thrums at your sleepy voice, light and airy but still so cheery. quieter than usual, tone high; a large contrast against Mark's bass-y speech. your head tips back to rest against his shoulder, tilting to press a soft, appreciative kiss to his jaw. he hums, turning to press a kiss to your forehead in return. he was absolutely smitten with you, head over heels. his little hunchback in her soft blanket two times bigger than what she really needed. when you yawned for the nth time, Mark pressed a kiss to your temple, "get up real quick?" he swivels his chair so you can stand per his request, and your blanket-hood drops as he spins you to straddle his lap. your arms drop to wrap around him, stealing his warmth right of his body. he rests his head on your shoulder, tired mind trying to focus back on his work. he should be done soon, maybe in the next twenty minutes. you nuzzle into his neck, enjoying the leftover scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo. just as quick as Mark's hand had returned to his mouse, he pulled it to your back, stroking down in comforting touches. your body relaxed, and rather quickly he could hear your soft snores in his ear, simply puffs against his skin. he returns to his work, knowing you were soundly content and asleep. with him, in his arms, motivating him to wrap up this stubborn editing process. when he was finally finished and the video was queued for the next day, he slowly rose. as he stood, his hands found support under your upper thighs to carry you to bed. you hold on tighter, mumbling something he couldn't catch. Mark bumped the lightswitch with his elbow, leaning back as he continued down the hall with you. blearily, you pressed your forehead to his shoulder, vaguely aware you were in motion.