Tumgik
#planning to finish this by the end of the year so stay tuned!
inkykeiji · 1 year
Note
Omg tag ur it 2 was amazing!!! Question, the end when keigo said “plan”, is it a plan for reader to leave dabi or for them to sneak behind dabis back to see each other? does reader really love dabi? Or is this all his emotional manipulation that makes her fall in love? This part 2 has me confused about readers true feelings. And yes, im already in love with tag ur it Tomura >.<
thank you anon!! (´∀`)♡ so happy to hear that you liked it!! <3 OOOOH hehehe well you’ll just have to wait for part three to find out all the answers to those questions, won’t you!! (*/ω\*) and i promise it won’t take two years for the third and final part to be released!!!!
EEEEEEE YES I KNEW U WOULD!!!!! i am SO in love with him i have a whole backstory for him and everything like his characterization takes up pages and pages of my notebook, i am obsessed with that iteration!!! he’s pretty much like tnii!tomura, but cooler 😎
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suashii · 7 months
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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝐻𝐼𝒟𝒟𝐸𝒩 𝑀𝐸𝒜𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮
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info ⭑ gojo x reader. 1.4 wc. sfw ノ fluff ノ teacher!reader ノ both gojo and reader are ~22 ノ gojo has taken in megumi + tsumiki
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it’s the third time this month that megumi has been the only student left in your classroom. your boss had warned you that this should be something to expect, that his circumstances are special. you truly haven’t had a problem with him sticking around once the school day ended—your only issue is that you’re never certain what days he might be extending his stay or for how long.
it’s the tiniest bit inconvenient, not knowing whether you should bring extra snacks for the boy or if you can agree to plans after work with friends. you’ll never fault megumi for the uncertainties of his schedule, though.
he really is a good kid.
you’re sitting across from him now and he’s got one of the two onigiris you packed for yourself during your after-school grading set on a napkin. his hand reaches out for the last bite of the rice ball before popping the remainder in his mouth. you don’t realize you’ve been staring at the boy until his dark eyes meet yours. in an attempt to avoid any awkwardness, you ask, “how’s your sister?”
“good.” his reply is short, simple—not far off from how he usually acts in class. megumi’s not much of a talker, that much has become clear to you in the few weeks you’ve been his teacher and even more so in these one-on-one moments. it doesn’t bother you and you’ll never push him to hold a conversation he clearly doesn’t want to have.
“anything you want to do while we wait?” he’s finished his snack and you aren’t sure how much longer it’ll be until his guardian, gojo, is here to pick him up. “we could go to the playground if you’d like.”
he shakes his head, leaning down to grab something from his backpack. “that’s okay, i’m fine reading.”
it’s only your first year teaching out of college but you can confidently say that you haven’t met many ten-year-olds who choose to read over playing outside; on a playground all to themselves, at that. the sight of megumi flipping through the pages of his book to pick up where he left off brings a small smile to your face.
your initial thought is that it speaks well of his example at home. although, from the short interactions you’ve been granted with gojo, something tells you that megumi’s interest in reading came from elsewhere.
you’ve had trouble getting a read on the one called gojo satoru, partly because each of your meetings with him last no longer than a couple of minutes, but mostly because he gives off the impression of someone who doesn’t want others looking at him too critically. it’s a little strange, you think, that a man as outgoing as him is just as guarded.
you ponder on the seemingly endless unknowns that surround gojo as you clean up the small snack you shared with megumi. thoughts of him tug at the back of your mind even when you’ve returned to the table with the boy to get some grading done.
the sun’s harsh rays have started to turn a softer golden by the time gojo arrives to take megumi home. he quietly hums a made-up tune as he walks down the path that leads to your classroom. the melody dies in his throat several feet down the hall upon his realization that your door is ajar. virtually undetectable footsteps carry him the rest of the way and he stops just outside your room.
gojo spots you and megumi situated at one of the many tables, a book in megumi’s hand and a pen between your teeth. there’s a slight crease in your brow as you examine the paper on the surface that makes gojo chuckle a bit.
the sound draws your eyes up and to the doorway. there gojo stands, a grin pulling at his lips.
“gojo-san,” you greet him, standing up and wiping the palms of your hands on your thighs.
your words act as an invitation as the man only enters upon hearing them. he waves and offers you a spoken “hello” before placing the same hand on top of megumi’s head. the boy brushes it away nonchalantly and begins to pack up his things.
your gaze is focused on gojo, how he theatrically frowns at megumi’s silent dismissal and how the dark lenses he wears slide down the bridge of his nose, exposing cerulean irises framed by white eyelashes. his attire is different than the uniform he typically dons when you see him at the end of the day, something you’ve noticed holds true every time he shows up late. this time around, he wears a plain white button-up and sandy brown linen pants.
you’ve never questioned it before but the trend has started to make you wonder what exactly he gets up to on these days. although, you don’t think about it too hard. as long as he’s here and megumi makes it home safe, there isn’t much beyond that that you need to know.
“yoo-hoo,” the sing-songy call rings through the air. you reckon that it came from gojo, if his toothy smile is any evidence.
“i’m sorry,” you apologize for spacing out (and for something so trivial, at that) before painting on your practiced smile. “did you say something?”
“i was just asking if megumi here gave you any trouble.” gojo tries, again, to ruffle the boy's hair but a smaller hand is there to knock his away, as if megumi expected the bothersome gesture. 
you hold back a laugh at gojo’s continued efforts being met with even more denial by the fifth grader. “not at all.”
“good.” the white-haired man nods, strands of the silky hair brushing the tops of his glasses. his gaze flits from megumi to you in a split second and even though most of his eyes are hidden, you can feel the intensity his stare holds. “sorry for keeping you so late, i had a bit of extra work to handle today.”
“i don’t mind,” you reassure him with the wave of your hand. “but…”
a thought crosses your mind that leads you to bend down and grab a sheet of paper from the table. you fold the parchment into a square before picking up the pen you had been grading assignments with earlier and scribbling something on the page. gojo and megumi watch quietly as you do so and wear similar expressions of confusion when you hold the paper out to the former.
gojo takes it without hesitation and angles his hand so that he can read what you’ve written. it looks like your phone number and name followed by a wonky smiley face. his eyes widen ever-so-slightly before he looks over his glasses at you. “what’s this for?”
“oh!” you seem to have forgotten to tell him the intent behind sharing your number. you can feel your cheeks heat up as you explain. “just so you can text me in advance if you know you’ll be running behind.”
for a short moment, gojo had interpreted it as something different, though, he opens his mouth in the shape of an understanding “ah” at your clarification while stuffing the square in his pocket. he doubts he’ll ever have the time to actually do so but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “got it, will do.”
your lips curl up in a tight smile as you silently berate yourself for coming off as unprofessional.
“we’ll be out of your hair, then.” gojo’s voice breaks through the thick silence between you. you simply nod in acknowledgement.  “thanks for staying late with megumi.”
the dark-haired boy politely parrots his thank you.
“you’re welcome. see you both tomorrow.”
on their walk home, megumi glances to his side at the man towering over him. he’s pulled out the piece of paper you gave him and is happily saving your number in his phone. megumi may be young, but he’s nothing if not attentive.
“why do you keep stopping at home to change?” he asks gojo.
clear blue eyes stay glued to the device in his hand. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
megumi scoffs. “you put on cologne, too.”
“i always smell this good,” gojo argues, finally stuffing the things and his hands in his pockets. he looks down at megumi, wearing the smile the boy finds annoying. 
something about it feels like confirmation to his suspicions.
“are you trying to impress my teacher or something?”
the fall of gojo’s smile is all megumi needs to know that he’s right.
lithe fingers reach down to pinch the boy’s cheek. “shut it, kid.”
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sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎
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mouse-of-dimitrescu · 4 months
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𝟷𝟸 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 🎄 #𝟿 𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚇 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
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Sway ( fluff, NSFW )
WARNINGS: shapeshifting d!ck, cute Larissa, restlessness. (I think that's it, tell me if I need to add more warnings )
:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧
Christmas was Larissa's favourite time of the year. The beautiful lights and glorious decorations made her golden heart warm. She was one of those people who put Christmas decorations up as soon as the clock striked December, and stocked up on hot chocolate as soon as it turned a degree colder. You and Larissa had been married for three years and for every year end, you decorated your house together, putting up the tree and the shimmering lights. Afterwards, you would always treat yourselves to hit chocolate with extra marshmallows and your homemade chocolate chip cookies that Larissa adored.
Nevermore closed for the Christmas holidays, allowing Larissa to stay at home with you during that period. One thing about Larissa: she would always get restless during the holidays. She wasn't used to having so little to do and naturally, she tried to keep herself as busy as possible.
You returned home from grocery shopping one afternoon to find Larissa reorganising the kitchen. You placed the bags down and cleared your throat.
" Rissy, what are you doing?" You asked, making the poor woman jump slightly, not expecting your presence.
" Organising the kitchen...for the new year." Larissa stood up and placed her hand on her hip, trying to act as casual as possible. You sighed and looked to your wife.
" Bored?" You tried to hide your smile.
Larissa let out a groan. " I love being at home with you, don't get me wrong. But I just don't know what to do with myself. I try watch a movie on Netflix and then I zone out because I feel like I'm wasting my time. Then I try to do something creative, like making a necklace with the bead set, but I never finish it because I know I'll never wear that stupid necklace anyway." Larissa squeezed the bridge of her nose. " Sorry I'm rambling."
You walked up to Larissa and hugged her with understanding. " It must be difficult for you to change your schedule in favour of the holidays. And we have to stay indoors, it's cold out. Have you tried reading?"
Larissa nods. " Yes, dear. But I get distracted by the thought of what I could be doing." Larissa gave you a little squeeze and kissed your cheek. " Don't worry about me, darling. I'm sure I'll manage."
" Maybe we can pack these groceries away for a start and then see what we can do." You suggested. Larissa nodded and you both began packing the cupboards with the groceries you bought. You worked silently and peacefully, Larissa occasionally letting out a hum of approval when she liked something you bought. She obviously smiled when sje saw the bag of hot chocolate and she put it away neatly.
" Maybe this evening you can teach me how to make those chocolate chip cookies?" Larissa asked, seeing that you had bought more ingredients to do so.
" Sounds like a plan." You smiled. You felt Larissa wrap her arms around you from behind and place a light kiss on the back of your neck. She turned your body slightly and leant down to kiss your lips gently. You smiled and hugged her, eventually beginning to sway together.
" You are aware that there's no music playing?" She chuckled.
" Oh hush. I just want to be close to you." You laughed and looked up to Larissa. You planted a small kiss on her jawline and eventually rested your head on her shoulder as you swayed. She smiled at your actions and kissed the top of your head, leaning her chin gently upon it. She began humming a soft tune, shutting her eyes and finding comfort in home. With your arms wrapped snugly around her waist, your body pressed against hers and you both sought out the warmth in one another.
" Dear, you don't look warm enough. You should go and put on another jumper." Larissa said softly, rubbing your arms up and down with her hands.
" I'm fine—" You tried to shrug it off but by looking at Larissa, she pulled a stern expression. You rolled your eyes playfully. " Fine, fine." You put your hands up in a surrendering motion and went to your shared bedroom to shuffle through the wardrobe. You put on Larissa's grey fluffy jumper and hugged yourself. It smelt of her.
" That looks adorable on you, dear." Larissa walked into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto her lap.
" Why thank you. I love wearing your clothes." You smiled.
" They're not even your style." Larissa shook her head and looked at you with an amused grin.
" No, they're not. But I still like them. They're cozy. When you shop for clothes, you always know exactly what to buy." You kissed Larissa's cheek, adjusting yourself on her lap so you could wrap an arm around her neck.
" You're such a minx, you know that?" Larissa smiled and kissed your cheek, eventually smiling against it, beginning to laugh slightly.
You giggled at her laughter and tilted your head. " Why are you laughing?"
" You're just so sweet. I love you. I'm so glad I married you?" Larissa peppered kissed over your cheeks, causing you to giggle more.
" Aww, Rissy. I love you too." You hugged Larissa, straddling her lap to do so.
In an instant, Larissa had flipped you over and began tickling you, making you squeel and laugh. She knew how ticklish you were and she loved teasing you about it. You felt her cold fingertips inch under your jumper, your breath hitched and you carried on laughing. Larissa laughed too, coming down to kiss you. She caressed your body and you shivered slightly, feeling Larissa's hands beginning to warm under your skin.
" Cold, love?" Larissa smiled, lying next door to you and keeping her one hand under your jumper while the other hand played with your hair.
" Your hands are cold." You smiled.
" I can...warm you up?" Larissa hinted, smiling slightly down at you. You said nothing but grinned, pulling Larissa in for a kiss. " And I'll take that as a yes?" She laughed.
" Yes please." You giggled snd kissed Larissa's neck, feeling the soft, sensitive skin under your touch. Larissa's breath hitched at your actions, making you smile.
" Can I shift?" She asked, causing you to grow even more aroused. You nodded quickly, kissing Larissa again. As she shifted, she groaned into our mouth and you looked down to see the bulge in her pants. You bit your lip and looked at your wife — you were both breathing heavily from the kiss and she nodded in your direction.
At that nod, you quickly slipped your hand under the waistband of her pants, feeling her cock straining in her knickers. You experimentally ran a finger over it, causing Larissa to gasp.
" Please ride me, darling." Larissa whispered.
You smiled, slipping both her pants and her knickers off, throwing them to the side. Larissa couldn't wait — her hand had already found her cock as she gently stroked it, causing her breathing to become heavier and precum to leak off the tip. You looked over at her and leant down to kiss the tip of her cock, licking the precum off and tasting her.
" Darling, please. Please." Larissa reached over to you and began tugging at your clothes, attempting to assist you in getting them off. You happily stripped for your wife, planting a small kiss on her cheek before straddling her.
You felt Larissa reach down and gently rub the tip of her cock through your folds, occasionally grazing against your sensitive clit, causing your hips to move slightly. You eventually sunk down, feeling Larissa's warm cock enter you and stretch apart your walls.
" Oh....Larissa..." You shut your eyes and moaned as she entered you fully. You stayed still for a few moments, breathing heavily before looking at Larissa. She reached over and caressed your waist, trailing her hands up to your boobs as she fingered your nipples. That only made you wetter and you bit your lip.
" I'm going to move." You breathed out, holding onto Larissa's arms to steady yourself as you ricned your hips slowly back and forth. Larissa's cock throbbed inside you at your actions, tapping and moving against your walls.
" Oh, fuck..." Larissa shut her eyes and laid her head back. You moaned and clasped onto Larissa's arms. Larissa moved her hands to your hips as you began to bounce on her cock. She helped steady you as you did so.
" You're so...tight." Larissa moaned loudly, digging her nails into your sides as you moved on top of her.
Your wife began to thrust her hips up, aiding your movements. You moaned as she hit your g-spot, making your walls tighten around her momentarily, making Larissa moan too. Both of your movements began to get more urgent as you felt Larissa thrust deeper into you.
" Rissy! Oh!" You moaned when you felt Larissa's hips rise again, slamming into you as you both increased your paces, syncing with each other. A small amount of sweat covered your bodies as you both tried to reach your climax.
With each thrust and bounced Larissa's cock pulsated against that sweet spot inside of you, you felt your walls tighten around her again and your breathing became even more rapid and uneven. Moans filled the room along with the musky scent of sex and the fusion of your perfumes.
" Are you going to cum for me?" Larissa asked, letting out a groan as she entered you again.
" Yes! Fuck!" You cried out.
" Can I come inside you?" Larissa asked, trying to conceal the desperation in her tone.
" Yes! Please... Rissy!" You begged as you felt yourself nearing your orgasm.
As you climaxed against Larissa's cock, she came too, filling you up with her white seed. Both of your bodies shuddered as you moaned each others' names. The sensation of Larissa cumming inside of you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your shaking body. Larissa and you helped each other ride out your orgasms as you slowed down your paces, breathing heavily and grasping onto each other.
Larissa gently lifted your body up, slowly pulling out if you. The mixture of you cum and hers trailed down your thighs and she chuckled. Your wife lifted you up, shifting her cock back into her pussy as she took you to the bathroom. She cleaned both you and herself up and you smiled.
" We need to do that again sometime." You laughed, grabbing two face cloths, running them under the two and handing one to Larissa. You both wiped the sweat off your faces and she smiled back.
" I agree ." She pecked your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. " I love you, my dear." She whispered against your lips.
" I love you too, Rissy." You whispered back. " Let's shower quickly and get started on those chocolate chip cookies." You winked, making Larissa chuckle.
You and Larissa stood in the shower, the water poured over you as you spoke and laughed together. It was the little things. Those little moments that made you whole. You weren't alone cut into obscure fragments — you belonged and so did Larissa. Larissa was there. And she was beautiful. And you loved her so fucking much it seemed almost impossible not to smile in her presence. In this limited segment of eternity, you felt sempiternal.
You and Larissa changed quickly into your pajamas. Your wife urged you to use the hair dryer that evening because it was cold and she didn't want you to get sick. Your heart melted at her concern but you hated the hair dryer. It was loud.
" Rissy, I won't get sick." You scoffed and eventually gave in, grabbing the hair dryer.
" You might. And no one wants to blow their nose on Christmas. Especially not in this house." Larissa kissed your cheek and began to run a brush through your hair. You blushed and smiled, feeling her soft fingertips run through it too.
" Thank you." You whispered, Larissa smiled at you, making eye contact with you in the looking glass.
She kissed your cheek and you turned to her, giving her a soft kiss on her lips and a little peck on the tip of her nose, making her scrunch her nose and smile. Larissa dried her hair too and you both eventually went downstairs, checking the pantry. You got the ingredients out to make the chocolate chip cookies and Larissa out on some music. The Fleet Foxes began playing in the backround as you baked together.
" Where are the instructions?" Larissa asked, rummaging through recipe books and papers on the kitchen counter.
" In my head." You smiled.
Larissa raised her eyebrow. " How can you cope? Oh dear, well, tell me what to do." Larissa packed the books away. You laughed at her concern for not having a set recipe and instructions to abide by. Larissa gave you a faux annoyed glance before cracking up too.
" I'm the principal for a reason, darling." She said through laughter, kissing your cheek.
You lead Larissa through the process and you baked the cookies. Once the cookies were finally in the oven, you and your wife took a step back. You began making hot chocolate for the both of you as you waited for the cookies.
" We can't have cookies for dinner, dear." Larissa said, leaning against the counter.
" Says who?" You smiled and added extra marshmallows to Larissa's hot chocolate. She happily took her cup and sipped from it.
" I do. Now, are we going to make dinner or are we just going to order something?" She asked.
You thought for a moment. " Pizza sounds lovely. What do you say?"
Larissa chuckled. " Of course, you know which toppings I want."
You got out your phone and placed an order for two large pizzas.
The pizzas soon arrived just as you and Larissa finished off your second cups of hot chocolate. You brought the pizza inside and placed it on the counter.
" Two large pizzas?" Larissa walked over to you and took a box.
" I'm hungry, I don't know about you. But if you can't finish it, you can save it for later." You smiled and opened your pizza box.
" No, I'm eating it." Larissa chuckled and took out a slice of pizza, beginning to eat it.
You ate your pizzas at the kitchen table, almost forgetting to check on the cookies which were baking well in the oven. After a few monents of checking on them, you smiled.
" I think they're ready." You got oven mits, removing the tray from the oven and placing the cookies on a plate to cool down. Larissa immediately got up and stood right next to you, savouring the smell of them.
" Maybe I should make another load of them. These will probably be finished in three days by the looks of things." You chuckled. Larissa playfully slapped your arm and you both giggled.
" Most likely." Larissa kissed your head.
:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧
𝙸 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.
@littledollll @winterfireblond @blood-red-ocean @ness029 @aemilia19
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absurdthirst · 9 days
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Better Late Than Never {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 18.9k
Warnings: Young musician Marcus, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, confessions, murders, attempted murder, angst, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, face fucking, mentions of pregnancy/family planning, hostage situation, threats of death, shoots, death
Comments: College is amazing, fun and the best boyfriend, Marcus Pike. You dream of a life together with him. Until you witness a horrible crime and are ripped from the life you know. Years later, a theft at your art gallery brings one Marcus Pike back into your life, revealing secrets and the fact that you never stopped loving him.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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“And now, Sex Riot!” 
You start screaming as soon as they announce the band, always willing to cheer your college boyfriend and his band on, especially since this is the biggest gig they’ve ever played. “Yay baby! Whoooooo!” You clap and then put your fingers in your mouth to whistle from your spot at the bar as Marcus, Aaron, Dominic and Anthony immediately start playing the first song. Marcus, sweet and kind, looks like every girl's bad boy dream since you added a little bit of your eyeliner and gelled up his hair. Paired with his lucky t-shirt with the pot smoking ‘shroom, ripped jeans and boots, he looks sexy and you can’t wait to take him back to your apartment after it’s over. 
Marcus finds you in the crowd and grins, winking at you as he plays a few chords to warm up his bass guitar and to check he’s in tune. He looks at the lead singer, Aaron, who nods and Marcus waits for the count in from Dom. He starts to play the song, the crowd starting to jam and he feels the thrill of the performance start to hit him. You are there, grinning up at him and he loves how much you support him for every gig.
You beam as they finish the first song. Clapping and cheering as Aaron greets the crowd. You know that when he gets down, he’s going to want a beer and a kiss and you will give them to him. You are completely in love with him and tonight you are going to tell him.
Marcus is sweating when the set ends, blood racing with exhilaration and he grins as he finds You applauding him, his favorite groupie, and he grins when you blow him a kiss. Fuck, he loves you. He’s gonna tell you soon. Never one to hide his emotions, he’s gonna need to blurt out his feelings soon. He takes his final bow with the band and he finds you backstage after you rush back there, his hands finding your waist and he leans in to press his lips to yours.
Kissing Marcus Pike is like breathing, natural and all consuming. You reach up and tangle your fingers into his sweaty, longish curls. Moaning into his mouth, you don’t even hesitate to press yourself against him eagerly. Only breaking away to breathe and then you nudge your nose against his and grin. “You were amazing, baby.” You gush, giggling when you kiss him again.
Marcus slides his hands down to squeeze your ass. “You enjoyed the show?” He asks and you nod, kissing his jaw as you lean against him. “Fuck, I was nervous to sing backup vocals on the new song. Was it good?” He asks, biting his lip when he pulls back to look at you.
“It was so good, baby. I love your voice.” You nod. “I love when you sing to me.” Grinning, you lift a brow. “Sing in the shower.” You tease, knowing he’s only singing in the shower when you aren’t in it with him. Normally if you come over to his place, you might catch it if he was still in the shower.
Marcus blushes, unaware that you’d heard him in the shower. It makes him wonder if you heard what else he does when you aren’t in the mood for him. “Fuck, you wanna get out of here? I’m not really in the mood for drinks. I want to go back to mine and shower…with you.” He adds, biting his lip.
“Your place?” You nod and kiss him one more time before you turn to grab your purse off the bar. You have already paid for your drink so you are ready to go. Even if the rest of the band stays and parties, it just means that you and Marcus will have the apartment to yourselves since he rooms with his band mates. “I think I want to have the bassist from my favorite band in the shower with me.” You send him a hot look. “So I can show him how big of a fan I am.”
Marcus nods, knowing the rest of the band will be okay with packing up the equipment since he’s stayed late every gig this year. He takes your hand, knowing the guys will bring his bass back, and he tells Aaron that he’s taking you home. “Have fun.” Aaron smirks, knowing exactly why you’re leaving so soon but Marcus doesn’t give him a second thought as he escorts you out to his car. Before he opens the door, he grabs you to push you against the passenger side, his lips finding yours under the street light.
In typical collegiate horny fashion, you have no problem making out with your boyfriend of nearly eight months right there. Feeling him start to harden against your hip only has you even more feral for him. One hand in the pocket of his ripped jeans, the other pushes between you so you can squeeze his thick cock, making him groan into your mouth. “Take me home, Marcus.” You demand. “I want to suck your cock and I can’t do that here.”
Marcus groans, hating to pull away from you but your promise to suck him off is never one he would deny you so he pecks your lips and pulls away from you. Shifting to open the door for you, helping you in before he jogs around the car to get into the driver’s seat. “God.” He breathes out as he starts to drive, trying to focus on the road and not the way you’re looking at him as he drives to his place.
You smirk and slide your hand down to his belt buckle. “Keep your eyes on the road, Pike.” You tease playfully as you unbuckle it. “I can’t wait until we get back to your place to feel you.” You’ve never given road head before, but for Marcus, you would do anything.
“Fuckkkk.” Marcus groans, fingers tightening on the steering wheel as you take his cock out of his pants. “Fuck baby. You’re too good to me.” He groans and you lean down to take him into your mouth. The car swerves slightly and he exhales to control himself and the car.
He’s slightly salty with sweat but like always, he tastes amazing. Musky and heady as you roll your tongue over the tip and pull back slightly before taking him deeper into your mouth. Groaning at his pulsing twitch of excitement. He loves when you suck his cock and you know that the added thrill of driving and being slightly exposed is doing something for you so it must be doing something for him. He had always kind of giggled when you watched movies where the guy gets road head, so you are happy you decided you couldn’t wait.
Marcus hisses when you suck him a little harder, taking him deeper and he swears he nearly cums but he reaches down to caress your cheek, “fuck baby. So good to me.” He coos, struggling to concentrate when you’re hollowing your cheeks.
You hum, happy he’s enjoying it. You know when you get back to his place, he will drag you in the shower and by the time you’re clean, he’ll be ready to go again. Your lips touch the fabric of his jeans and you swallow around his thick length.
Marcus can barely keep his eyes open but he forces himself, moaning again when you swallow around him and he reaches down to pat your cheek. “I’m gonna cum.” He warns you, “baby. I’m gonna cum.”
You smirk slightly, almost pulling off of him to remind him that’s the point of sucking his cock. Instead you double down on your effort, wanting him to cum down your throat. Moaning around him as the jerks and pulses of his cock tell you he’s about to bust.
Marcus pants, fucking glad he’s stopping at a traffic light. “Fuck fuck Fuck.” He hisses as he starts to cum, unable to control himself anymore as he starts to cum down your throat.
You swallow as much as you can, some of it spilling out the side of your mouth but you don’t stop swallowing. Not until every drop has been pumped into your mouth and that little sigh he always gives when he’s done comes out of his mouth. Pulling off of him lightly, you lick your lips and grin as you sit up. “How was that for your applause?”
“Fuck baby. I- just wait till we get back to mine.” He promises breathlessly. “I’m gonna - fuck. The things I’m gonna do to you.” He promises, pushing down on the pedal a little too hard when the light turns green. You tuck him away into his pants and he pulls you up to kiss your cheek, “God baby. You’re incredible.” He murmurs, focusing back on the road so he can rush back to his apartment.
You giggle quietly as Marcus races back to his apartment building, nearly squealing his tires in an effort to get there as quickly as possible. Once parked, you jump out of the car and run towards the building. “You have to catch me,” you tease over your shoulder.
Marcus chuckles, shaking his head and he scrambles to lock his car. He rushes after you, running up the stairs and he catches up to you when you are at his front door. “Gotcha.” He growls playfully, spinning you so he can push you against the door, kissing you with a smile, his hands reaching for your hands to lift your arms above your head, restraining your wrists, his hand slides back down to squeeze your tit, his tongue sliding into your mouth.
You moan into him, enjoying the taste and feeling of him pressing against you. “Marcus.” You pant when he slides his tongue out enough to let you talk. “Shower and then I want to go to bed.” You beg, knowing that you want him inside you, touching you when you tell him how you feel.
He pulls away reluctantly, wanting to touch you but he knows he has to open his door. He grabs his keys, fumbling to open the door with your lips on his neck but he manages, swallowing harshly and nearly stumbling when it swings open. “Get naked. Now.” He demands, needing you, to see all of you.
You giggle at his commanding, desperate tone. Knowing that he is close to losing control and with it, leaving some of the sweetness behind. The best thing about Marcus is that he is so kind in and out of bed, but you like when he is a little rough with you. “Yes sir.” You tease, pouting seductively as you toss your purse down and reach to unzip your dress.
Marcus groans, his eyes hungrily eating you up and he bites his lip when you toss your bra aside, stepping out of your panties. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He murmurs, kicking off his boots and he pulls his shirt over his head, pushing his jeans down. His cock is still flaccid but his eyes are drinking you in as he pushes his boxers down. “Come on baby.” He murmurs, reaching for you and he takes your hand to escort you to the bathroom. He grabs his body wash from the shelf and turns on the water.
Marcus has a runners ‘or a swimmer’s body. Long, lean lines and limbs. Still powerful, and you take a moment to appreciate that as you watch him. You know you will have to gather your clothes later, but right now you press yourself up against him when you step into the shower together and wrap your arms around his neck. “I missed you today, baby.” He had a test and then one quick half shift at his job before his gig. His parents were funding his college, which was fantastic, but Marcus was responsible enough to still have a job.
“I missed you too.” Marcus murmurs, his hands caressing your back. “Always miss you.” He promises, leaning back so he can look into your eyes. “You enjoyed the show?” He asks, always anxious that he wasn’t good enough. He plays guitar mainly but when Aaron needed a bass player, he stepped up to learn it.
“You were great.” You promise him, sliding your fingers through his hair and tilting his head back to wet it under the spray so you can wash it for him. “Every note was perfect and you looked so sexy up there.” You coo. “All I could think of was how that is my man and I get to go home with him.”
Marcus smirks, eyes closed as you grab the shampoo and his hands squeeze your ass cheeks as you lather up his locks. “Only you. No one else.” He vows, knowing his band mates take home random women but you’re the one for him. He’s never been the Casanova type, always liking to be with one woman, to have a relationship and a deeper connection than a one night stand. You rinse his hair and he leans down to kiss you again, unable to keep away from you.
"Mmmmmm." You smile against his lips and open for him, moaning softly when his tongue slides against yours and he shuffles to press you back against the shower wall. You never seem to get enough of him and you don't think. you ever will. You love him. You have decided that you want to be with him forever and you pull back to smile at him softly. "Only you." You promise back.
Marcus kisses you softly, shifting to kneel down in the shower and he grabs your leg, kissing your knee before he lifts it onto his shoulder. His eyes on you as he leans forward to nudge your mound, his tongue coming out to slide through your folds. He loves how you taste and he wants you to cum on his tongue before he fucks you in his bed.
“Marcus!” You cry out, slapping your hand against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Marcus’s tongue is always eager, always seemingly perfect as it carves a path through your folds and flicks over your clit. He sucks it into his mouth and hums, which always makes you moan softly. 
His hands slide up to squeeze your tits, the water flowing over his back and he loves the way you moan his name. He could listen to that for the rest of his life. His hands caress and squeeze and pinch while his tongue dips back down to push inside of you with a groan.
Tilting your head up, you pant his name again, your thigh shaking and barely supporting you without his help to keep you pinned against the wall. “Oh fuck, Marcus.” You chant quietly. “Baby, you’re so good. Fuck, you’re so good.” 
Marcus desperately needs you to cum, his tongue diving deep as his nose presses against your clit. His hands slide down to squeeze your ass, tilting your hips so his tongue can push deeper inside of you.
“Oh shit!” Your body bucks and you cry out wordlessly when your orgasm hits you. Pleasure and heat washing over you in successive waves as he keeps pressing deeper. Tongue curling and prodding inside you and his nose is the perfect pressure against your clit.
He works you through it, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence and he groans, pulling back to look up at you. Hair slicked back and eyes dark. He shifts to stand up after lowering your leg and he leans in to kiss you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth.
When he pulls back, you giggle quietly. “So glad I have a boyfriend who loves to eat pussy.”
You hum, reaching for the body wash and his shower mitts. Lathering them up quickly, you start to wash his body, eager to get him into bed.
Marcus lets you wash him then he returns the favor, his hands everywhere as he washes you and he groans when your fingers wrap around his hard cock. “So impatient for me.” He jokes softly, rinsing you off. “You wanna come to my bed?” He asks, kissing along your neck.
“Fuck yes.” You pant, stroking his cock with the quick, harsh motion that he enjoys. “I need you inside me, baby. Right now.” You beg.
Marcus reaches behind you to turn off the water, he grabs the towel and wraps it around you, grabbing another one for himself to dry off and then he’s dragging you into his bedroom. He pushes you onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kneels between your thighs, “wanna cum inside of you.” He murmurs, wanting to fill you up. He usually pulls out to be safe despite your birth control but tonight he wants to feel your walls pulsing around him when he cums.
You moan softly, loving the idea. Nodding, you reach up to caress his chest. “I want that baby, I’m safe.” You promise him, also keeping track of your cycle as well as your birth control. “Fill me up, I want to feel it.” You coo, enjoying the low moan as he pushes his cock through your folds and starts to break into you as he rocks his hips forward to kiss you.
Marcus groans into your mouth as you stretch to take him. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking wet and tight. He closes his eyes as he pushes until he’s inside of you fully. “Fuck, baby girl. I - I love how you feel around me.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he gives you a moment.
You close your eyes, a small smile on your face as your fingers tangle into his hair. “I love you.” You murmur softly, knowing that he will hear you since his ear is right next to your lips. It’s the right moment, the perfect moment to tell him how you feel. “I love you, Marcus.”
Marcus pulls back to look at you, eyes wide. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much baby.” He promises. His hips start to move as he works his cock in and out of you. “I love you. I love you.” He repeats over and over between kisses to your skin.
You moan quietly as the two of you take sex and turn it to love making. Soft and sweet as he rocks into you and whispers words of love and praise. It makes you feel cherished, you know that he’s not just saying that because you did. Not because he’s inside you. This man loves you and it makes happy tears fill your eyes as you hold him tight.
He moves slow, in no rush despite the frenzy earlier. He wants you to enjoy every second of this. His hand sliding up to squeeze your breast as he shifts his weight onto one elbow so he can touch you. There’s no more words, just feelings as he rocks into you, your legs lifting higher up on his hips.
Marcus can barely breathe, let alone speak. He grunts, sighs, and leans in to press his lips to yours. His tongue sliding into your mouth to languidly kiss you. He can’t believe how lucky he is that you are his and he is yours. Never did he imagine he’d find the love of his life so soon in college but he’s glad he did. He wants to keep you forever. His hand shifts from your breast and slides down between you so he can rub your clit.
“Oh God, Marcus.” You moan, rocking your hips up to meet his hand and thrusts. “So good baby, fuck, I love you so much.” You kiss and suck on his neck, leaving a mark that you are sure will be visible for days, but you have to claim him as yours. “Gonna cum baby.”
Your gasp has him pushing deeper inside of you, desperate for you to cum. He keeps the same rhythm that has you gasping and his fingers rub your clit. "Cum for me, love. Cum for me." He pleads, wanting to feel it and his own orgasm is imminent.
You keen when you start to come apart. Shaking as your cunt locks down around him on the next thrust and you soak him in waves of your fluids. Chanting his name as if it’s the only word in the world. Knowing that you want your future to be with him as he holds you close.
"Fuck. Yes baby. Oh God." Marcus pants when you clamp down on him, soaking him, and he bites his lip, thrusting a little faster as he seeks his own orgasm. He should last, make you cum again, but your confession has him on edge. He groans and buries his face in your neck, his cock buried deep as he cums, painting your walls with his seed.
“Fuck baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes in pure bliss when you feel him flood your womb. It’s crazy, stupid and not something you need, but for a brief second you wish he was getting you pregnant. That you were going to have his baby. It’s insane to think about and you quickly push it away. “I love you.” You whisper again, happy you can say it out loud now.
“I love you.” He murmurs, shifting to kiss you again while his cock pulses inside of you. He feels like he’s on fire and he can’t seem to get close enough to you. You’re everything to him and he knows he’s going to marry you one day. You are the rest of his life. He pulls out of you and shifts onto his back, bringing you into his chest. “I - I wrote a song for you.” He whispers, heart pounding still from both his orgasm and nerves.
Your head shoots up and you look at him in surprise. “You did?” Your hand that is on his chest seems to curl in, wanting to hold onto him. “What’s it about, sing it to me.” You demand, wanting to know what sort of song he would write for you.
Marcus shifts, grabbing the guitar he has propped up in the corner and he plucks the strings for a moment to make sure it’s in tune. He exhales and looks at you, “I love you baby.” He promises and starts to play, his eyes closed as he concentrates and the lyrics begin a few moments later.
Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your breasts, knowing that it doesn’t matter when it’s the two of you. You listen, with your heart in your eyes and absorb the words that he has created for you. Falling in love with him a little more with every word.
He finishes the song, his hand pausing over the strings as he takes a moment before he looks up to see your reaction. You have tears in your eyes and he worries you didn’t enjoy it. “I- was it - do you like it?” He asks, voice wavering with his nerves.
Surging forward, the covers fall off your lap. Launching yourself at him and trapping his guitar between you so you can press your lips to his desperately. “I loved it.” You promise, giggling happily, almost drunk off the feeling of being in love with him. “I love you. Oh god, you have to make a tape of it for me, so I can always have it.”
Marcus smiles against your lips, so relieved and happy you loved it. “Of course, baby. I’ll make you a tape.” He promises, shifting back so he can set the guitar back on the stand and he reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. “I love you.” He murmurs, burying his nose in your hair to breathe you in.
Marcus curls around you, his face buried in your neck, and he closes his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep, loving how warm you are against him and he dreams of a life together. Of having kids with you, a home, a dog. The whole nine yards.
****
“Yeah, you know Marcus. He’s great.” You tuck your phone against your shoulder as you look through the rack of dresses. He had told you that he wanted to talk you out somewhere special this weekend and to make sure that you were dressed fancy. Well, as fancy as college kids get, but you are excited. “He probably wants to celebrate saying ‘I love you’, and that’s so fucking sweet. I’m telling you girl, I’m so fucking lucky.”
He steps into the store, glancing around at the crowd and he knows that she’s in the changing room. Her location said so. He steps through the racks, making his way into the ladies changing room and pulls out the gun with the silencer. When she steps out to look in the mirror, he wastes no time shooting her, twice in the chest, once in the head. So quick she barely even registers his presence and he grabs the sunglasses and hat from his jacket, turning it inside out to change his clothing and that’s when you step out. You see her on the floor, blood pouring from her and you look up at the man, his face visible after taking off his hoodie and you scream. He raises the gun, about to shoot you for being a witness but then he hears the commotion of people hearing your scream and he needs to get out of the store before the doors are locked. He rushes off and escapes through the crowds who are panicking when they heard your scream. He can’t risk being caught. He won’t get paid. He memorizes your face and knows he has to find you. He can’t be tied to the crime if there are no witnesses.
****
“I didn’t see where he went. No, I didn’t know him. I didn’t know her.” You tell the detectives again. “But I am telling you that it was this man.” You point to the photo you had picked out of the line up they had given you. It’s been hours, taken down to the station when the police had arrived, you had been shown into the shabby, dreary room and given a single cup of disgusting coffee. “Can I leave now? I just want to call my boyfriend and go home.”
The officers glance at each other, knowing there’s nothing more you can do since you have told them the man who did it. “Fine. You can go.” They say, “but call us if you remember anything else.” He hands you his card and you nod, making your way out of the station. Once you’re on the road, you decide to head straight over to Marcus’s place and when you’re on the back road, you wince when you see the bright lights from the car behind you.
“Go around me, asshole.” You huff under your breath and tap your brakes twice. The car gets closer and then back off, blinding you again and making you hiss. The guy is riding your ass and it’s pissing you off. “Fucking pass me!” You yell, happy when the car revs its engine and you think he’s going to pass. Until your car jolts forward and you realize the crazy bastard has hit you. “What the fuck!”
He revs his engine again, hitting your car once more and you cry out, starting to get scared. His lights are still bright in your rear view mirror and he hits you again, making you skid as you lose control of the car.
Your car spins into the guardrail and the old metal gives way, sending your car down into the embankment of the tiny creek you had been about to cross. Screaming, you see your life flash before your eyes and then nothing but blackness.
He pulls over, wanting to check that you’re dead but just as he starts to pull over, there’s a car coming towards him who pulls over to help you. He speeds off, knowing he can’t risk getting out and he is certain that you’re dead. You have to be. The stranger saw everything and manages to get the plate, writing it on their hand before they get out to see if you’re alive. Thankfully, they have a cell phone and manage to call 911 when they find you unconscious and bleeding, the airbags deployed.
****
“I don’t understand.” Marcus frowns as he looks at his phone, his call going straight to voicemail again. He’s been trying to call you all night and you aren’t answering. He’s worried, you had plans to meet up for dinner tonight and you never showed or messaged him.
“She’s gonna be okay, man. Her phone probably died. She doesn’t charge it for days.” He reminds Marcus who nods, biting his lip. “Yeah. True.” He sighs and glances out of the window, his heart pounding as he imagines all the bad things that could’ve possibly happened to you and he decides to phone the police if you aren’t here or call him within the hour.
****
The first thing you see when you blink is doctors hovering over you. Your name is called and your brow scrunches. “Wha-what happened?” You groan and immediately another face appears in front of you. The detective that you had seen just a few minutes ago at the police station. “What- you?”
The detective shakes his head, “I feared something like this would happen.” He says your name and you frown in confusion at the look on his face. “The man we are looking for is in a notorious crime circle. We worry that he will find you again and kill you because you’re the only witness to his crime. We need to put you into witness protection.”
"What? No, no, I have a date with my boyfriend." You blurt out, not even absorbing what the detective is telling you. "We just said 'I love you'. He's going to be so worried about me. Can I call Marcus? I need to call Marcus."
The detective shakes his head, “I’m sorry. No. We don’t know if they are tapping the lines. Your boyfriend might be in danger and it’s best if he doesn’t know anything about what happened. You need to move. We will arrange everything.” The detective promises, “this is for your safety. Your life is in danger. As soon as we catch him and you testify, he’s in jail. You can’t risk your life, sweetheart.”
You argue with the detective for an hour, until he shows you the pictures of the people the man after you had murdered. Gruesome photos, including a wife and daughter. That’s when you agree and reluctantly check out against medical advice and let the detective lead you away.
****
It’s been days since Marcus heard from you. He’s frantic, your parents don’t know where you are. No one seems to know and the police are dismissing him, saying you’ve likely run off. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s not like that.” He argued but they wouldn’t file a missing person report. He is exhausted, hasn’t slept, and he’s been driving around trying to find you but your apartment is how you left it and your roommate is worried too.
“Marcus, I don’t know what the hell is going on.” Tisha opens the door and lets him in. “All of her stuff is here, she’s not in class, her job hasn’t heard from her. It’s like she’s dropped off the face of the planet.” She rubs her hands over her arms. “I’m worried, especially after that murder at the outlet.”
“I don’t know. She - you know she isn’t like this. I don’t understand. I’m terrified. She’s - fuck - I don’t know what to do.” He sits down, head in his hands as he struggles to figure out what to do. He’s been driving around town for days trying to find you. He’s called everyone you know. No one has seen you. It’s like you’ve disappeared from the planet and his heart breaks when he wonders if you’ve left him, decided you didn’t love him or something changed within you and you’ve left him.
****
Fifteen Years Later:
  Living under a new name, having a new life, was supposed to make your life easy. You chew your lip as you sit in your office and wait. The art business was supposed to be low key. Under the radar. You are just a small gallery, although you carried some big name pieces, you are never pictured on the website. Still living under an alias, you know your identity will hold up under light scrutiny, but it still makes you nervous. It’s been a long time, nearly a year, since your handler had called you, letting you know there still is a vague contract out on your life from the asshole you had put behind bars so long ago.
****
“Pike.” Marcus answers his phone, rubbing his forehead as he stares at the file. 
“Sir, there’s been another robbery.” His junior agent tells him and he sighs, “I’ll be right there. Send me the address.” He says and hangs up,getting his keys and he’s soon in the car driving to the address he was texted. 
When he arrives, the police are already there and he introduces himself to the detective. “The gallery manager is right through here.” The detective says and Marcus makes his way into the gallery. When the officer says the alias name, Marcus looks at you and his jaw drops, your real name coming out of his mouth..
Your name, your real name, hasn’t been said in so long that it takes you a moment to respond. The ghost from your past, the man you thought you would never see again and always regretted that, stands in front of you looking like he’s seen his own ghost. Maybe he has. You panic and shake your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know that person.” You tell him, praying he doesn’t cause a scene, although you know you have to call Marshal Smith now that your identity has been blown. Your life will be completely uprooted and you had liked working in the art gallery. You tell him your cover name, the one you’ve lived with for the past fifteen years.
Marcus stares at you, knowing he’s not mistaking your face. You’re older, more refined, but he’d know those eyes anywhere. “I- no. No. It’s - it’s been fifteen years. It’s you.” He insists, shaking his head.
“I’m afraid you have the wrong person.” You tell him again, wondering how the hell sweet Marcus Pike became an FBI agent. You repeat your new name again for him with a tolerant smile. “Now, what questions do you have for me agent…Pike, was it?”
He shakes his head again, “no. No. I- fuck. It’s you. It’s gotta be you.” He chokes, getting frustrated. “I thought - I thought you left me. Fuck. I - I can’t do this.” He says to his partner and he rushes out of the gallery.
Your heart breaks, the look on his face was one of pure distress and you swallow harshly. “Let me go see if I can clear this up.” You tell the other agent and the detective. You can see they are curious and you know that it doesn’t matter now. Your life here is over. You hurry after Marcus and see him pacing outside. “Marcus!”
He turns away from you, “don’t. Don’t come near me.” He growls, angry with you. “Don’t - you left. You left me. Don’t - don’t play dumb. I’m not interested in your bullshit answers, okay? The change of name. Don’t - you left me. You left town. Disappeared. And now you want to pretend you’re not who I know you to be?”
He rails at you and you close your eyes at the anguish in his voice. The pain, the fear, the heartbreak of those early years coming back to you quickly. “I- I didn’t want to-“ you start to explain but he cuts you off. 
“I don’t want to hear it! You left without the decency to break it off. I thought you were dead.” He is nearly shouting out on the street next to a drab government vehicle and you huff. 
“I am in WitSec, Marcus!”
His eyes widen in shock, “what? You- when-? I- shit. When did you- how?” He stammers, trying to figure out what the hell happened and he needs answers. Now. The years of wondering what happened to you, what he did wrong, what he could’ve done differently.
Glancing around nervously, you lower your voice. “The day I disappeared, I saw something I shouldn’t have.” You explain, quickly telling him about the murder you had walked in on. 
Marcus is shocked. You witnessed a murder. The murder that happened at the outlet mall. You called your friend - the last person you spoke to - to talk about going out for dinner with Marcus. It makes sense. It fits. Your eyes aren’t lying to him. “I- shit. Seriously?” He asks breathlessly and you nod. He knows how the system works, and dealt with enough witnesses to know you’ll be sent across the country. “I won’t tell anyone. No one will know that you’re here. I promise.
You don’t have to tell the Marshal dealing with your case.”
You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you like this life here. And it’s such a relief to know that someone knows who you really are. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach because it’s Marcus. You’ve never stopped thinking about him. “You can’t use that name.” You caution him. “There’s still a contract out for my life.” You reveal. “It’s dormant, but only because there’s nothing for them to use to find me.”
Marcus nods, saying the fake name and it’s weird, it doesn’t feel right when he rolls it around his tongue. “I - I don't want you to have to uproot your life again. God, it’s been fifteen years. I- I never stopped wondering what happened to you.” He promises. “Do you- uh, do you want to maybe get dinner? Catch up?”
You freeze for a moment, surprised by the offer and find yourself nodding. “Sure.” You bite your lip. “But it should be at my place. Just in case.” You know that Roberta had an old photo of you and Marcus together from college and Marcus has obviously matured since then, but you can’t risk it. You glance around the street, a nervous habit you’ve picked up since being in WitSec, and then back at him. “Tonight? Or…uh, whenever you want.” You offer. “You have a life, I’m sure.”
Marcus chuckles humorlessly, “not so much. I- I was engaged and she - well, it’s a long story but she went off with her partner. She was a fed too.” He explains, biting his lip as he glances around, his dark eyes meeting yours again. “Tonight.” He nods, not wanting to miss out on catching up. He doesn’t want to waste a second in case you disappear again. “You wanna, uh, write down your address? I can bring take out.” He offers, grabbing his notepad.
“Sure.” You take the notepad from him and write down your address and hand it back to him. “Seven?” You ask and he nods. “So, I’m going to go back in there and talk to your partner. Tell him that you are upset you mistook me for someone else. Is that okay?”
Marcus nods, tucking the notepad back into his jacket and he swallows harshly, the sun hitting you and God, you haven’t changed. Not really. Still so goddamn beautiful. He clears his throat and gestures for you to go back inside. “I’ll tell him. We still need your story about the stolen painting.” He reminds you, stepping inside after you. “Sorry man-” He slaps his partner on the arm, “I thought she was some girl I knew in college. She disappeared and it was a shock. Not her. Just me being a dumb prick.” He jokes and his partner narrows his eyes but accepts the excuse. “So…you wanna tell us about the painting?”
Being involved with the US Marshals, you’ve learned to give a lot of detail, knowing any little thing can be important. You go through the story and try to be as clear as possible, knowing the security footage will be watched as well.
Marcus watches his partner jot down your story and eventually it’s time to go. He doesn’t mention meeting you at seven but nods your way so you know he will be there. He hopes you still like Chinese food. He leaves with your face burned behind his eyes and he’s soon pulling up outside your house, Chinese food in hand when he rings the doorbell.
You hurry towards the door, not calling out because of habit and checking the peep hole before opening. “Marcus.” You didn’t realize how nervous you were until you are looking at the man you had to leave behind so many years ago. Smiling slightly, you open the door. “Come in, you found the apartment alright?”
Marcus nods, “it’s tucked back here but I found it. I’m surprised they didn’t put you in a more secure building. Like a high risk with a security guard and coded doors.” Marcus says and you shrug, “they did at first but now…you know how long it’s been.” Marcus nods, his heart twisting with that realization. “I got you egg rolls and orange chicken. I hope you still like that.”
“That’s perfect.” You lock the door behind him and lead him back into the apartment. “Can I get you something to drink?” You ask. “I have beer, water, some wine, tea. Whatever you like.” You’re rambling, but that’s because you are nervous.
"Uh, a beer sounds good." He says, setting the bag down on the counter. God, it's awkward and he hates it. It used to be so easy with you. He used to spend all his time with you and now, it's like starting all over again even though he knows so many intimate details about you. "Plates?" He asks and you point to the cabinet while you get a couple of beers out of the fridge. He grabs the plates and sets them on the counter then gets the containers from the bag.
“So, what do you want to know?” You ask, opening the bottles and handing him one. You know he must have a million questions and it’s fair. You disappeared out of his life without a word and the thought that this might be closure for him runs through your mind.
“Everything.” He says, his eyes widening a little as he stares at you. “I want to know what you’ve been up to.” He urges and takes a sip of his beer. “It’s been so long and you just disappeared.”
“When I witnessed the murder, I was in denial about the danger I was in.” You admit. “I had left the police station and was driving to your apartment when that bastard ran me off the road. I woke up in the hospital and the detective insisted I needed protection.” You bite your lip. “They told me it was better that no one knows. That Roberta was known to use family and friends to flush out his targets. I couldn’t put you in danger. So they moved me across the country and created a new life for me.”
Marcus knows how it works, understands now how criminals work and operate, how they find people. He shudders when he imagines what could've happened if they had found you. You hand him a fork and spoon and he opens the containers of food so you can serve it up. "I - I get it but - at that time...I went out of my mind trying to find you. I tried everyone you knew, your parents...do they know?"
You bite your lip. “I sent them an anonymous post card, about ten years ago.” You admit quietly. “Just something so they would know, hopefully, that I was safe. I know I broke their hearts, but the Marshall’s are incredibly strict. Especially since Roberta is coming up for some new trial soon.”
Marcus nods, “I moved shortly after you went missing. Ended up in the academy after graduating and I couldn’t sleep. Spent so many nights wondering what happened to you. Even looked you up in the system when I could. I missed you so much. My best friend was gone all of a sudden.”
“Marcus, I-“ you sigh softly and if you had felt like you could, you would reach out and touch his hand. “I’m so sorry. I spent so long - years - wishing I could call you. To explain. Wondering how you were.” Your apology doesn’t seem like it’s enough, but it’s all you can give him. “It took me a long time to get over you, to stop mourning what might have been.”
He sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. He mourned the loss of you, his future with you, for far too long. “I- I ended up getting married. About eight years ago. It didn’t - we got divorced. She didn’t want to compete with the ghost of you.” He admits softly, averting his eyes from yours.
“I’m so sorry.” Your heart sinks, twists and aches in a way that is ridiculous. You left. Of course Marcus had moved on, and the rational side of you wanted him to. To hear that he had, and not in a way that turned out happily, it makes you sad. “Oh Marcus, I’m so sorry.” You murmur quietly, “maybe it would have been better if he had just killed me. Then you, my parents, none of you would have spent so long wondering.”
Marcus chokes on the sip of beer he drank, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. No. I - how could you say that? I would rather you be alive than me have closure. I have closure now and you’re alive. Never say that.” He almost growls, pissed off at you for even thinking it. “Did you…have you got anyone?”
You snort and shake your head. “How?” You ask, motioning around to your apartment. “I live a life that - while comfortable - isn’t mine. No one knows who I really am. I can’t make too close of friends, because I might accidentally reveal something from my real past. A lover? For more than a night or two? No. I couldn’t lie to them. My last real relationship was you.”
He hates that you’ve been alone but he’s also secretly pleased that there’s been no one since. He still feels that flutter in his heart when he looks at you. “I have missed you so much, baby.” He murmurs, setting his fork down so he can look at you properly, for the first time in fifteen years, he takes in every detail.
You smile sadly and nod. “I’ve missed you too, Marcus. I promise you.” You huff and send him a slightly embarrassed look. “I was halfway convinced I was going to marry you after we graduated. Have babies and you and your band were gonna be famous while I designed all your merch. It was my little daydream for a long time.” You admit. “Never thought you would become a Fed.”
Marcus smiles sadly back at you, reaching for your hand. “God…I- I didn’t - I would’ve taken that life in a heartbeat. I still would. I was- shit - I was gonna ask you to marry me. When I graduated. I was gonna ask you.”
It’s so bittersweet to think about that you didn’t even catch where he said he still would. Caught up in your fantasies that had kept you sane while you were scared and alone, tears start to trail down your cheeks. You squeeze his hand and try not to sob.
Marcus shifts closer, standing up so he can wrap his arms around you. “It’s okay baby. It’s okay.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your hair. “It’s okay.” His own eyes sting with tears as he mourns the years he lost thinking you were dead.
You lean into his embrace and inhale the scent of him. The cologne has changed, matured, but the baseline is still Marcus. “I- I missed you so much.” You tell him. “I wanted to bring you. Wanted to see if you would come with me, but I couldn’t.”
“I know.” He does know. Only spouses and children. Not boyfriends. He sighs and breathes you in, “I don’t want to miss you again. Can we start again? As friends?” He asks, knowing he can’t push for more after you’ve had such a trauma and he has his own baggage he needs to divulge at some point.
Friends. You don’t want to be his friend but you nod as you pull back. “Friends.” You murmur with a small smile. “Friends should eat.” You need a moment where he’s not touching you so you can remind yourself that he’s not yours anymore. Despite the fact that you still dream about him, the boy you had loved is not the man in front of you. “And as your friend, I have to tell you that you are still gorgeous. I don’t know how you became better looking, but you have.”
Marcus can’t help it. He blushes and you giggle at the way he flushes. “You, uh, you look way better. Like - God, you look gorgeous. Always were but you seem more refined, grown up. You’re gorgeous, baby.” He promises and he settles back down at the counter so he can continue eating.
You finish your meal, sighing happily when then put your fork down and pick up your beer to finish the last swallow. “It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a dinner like that.” You admit, standing so you can start to clean up. “You mentioned an ex wife and an ex fiancée, so anything else going on in your love life?” You ask causally. Just because you hadn’t moved on didn’t mean Marcus hadn’t. And if you were going to be his friend, you should know.
“It’s complicated. I haven’t been seeing anyone since Teresa. She’s my ex. She, uh, I proposed to her and then she dumped me for her partner. She’s a fed too. It set me back so I have been just enjoying my alone time recently. No one - no one seems to capture my attention.” He says, looking up at you.
“Someone will.” You predict. “I bet you are still a complete gentleman, until….” You bite your lip, aware making sexual comments is well beyond appropriate. “Until it’s time not to be.” You finish lamely and turn around to load the dishwasher.
Marcus bites his lip, remembering all the times you used to moan beneath him. He was a fumbling college kid then. He knows what he’s doing now. He wonders if you’d like his matured sexuality. “You know me too well.” He chuckles softly and stands to help you when the doorbell rings.
You turn towards the door, a flash of fear washing over your face. That same dread you get every time the doorbell rings when you aren’t expecting someone. “I’m not expecting anyone.” You tell him, moving towards the corner of the dining room where you keep a baseball bat.
Marcus shakes his head, pushing you back and reaching under his jacket in habit until he realizes he locked his weapon in his glove box. He reaches for the baseball bat and takes it from you, slowly inching towards the door and opening it. He prepares to swing but there’s no one there. He steps into the hallway and sees no one around and he turns to look at you. “No one here.” He says, frowning until he sees the note on the door.
Marcus brings the note taped to the door into the apartment and your heart drops. It’s not a letter from the building, and instinctively you know it’s trouble. “Shit.” You hiss, nearly in tears. “I- open it.” You ask Marcus. “What does it say?”
He walks in and locks the door behind him, setting the bat down so he can open the note. His eyes scan it first and he hisses in frustration. “It says…it says ‘you can’t hide forever. We know where you are. The appeal is coming and you won’t testify again. We will make sure of it’.” Marcus finishes, his blood boiling that someone has put this on your door.
“Oh God.” Your stomach flips and you swear you are about to lose your dinner. “He’s found me. I- I have to call the Marshall.” Your mind whirls and the protocols that have been drilled into your head come to mind. “I’m sorry.” For a moment you pause, hating that you had found Marcus again, only to be pulled away again. You will be relocated, disappear again and forced to live another life completely different from this one. “I wish- I wish things were different.”
Marcus shakes his head, starting to panic at the thought of losing you again. “He only knows that you live here. Take time off of work. Come- come live with me. I can protect you. He doesn’t know where I am. Please, baby. I- I don’t want to lose you again.” He knows you’d be safer moving across the country again but his selfish need to have you back in his life makes him give you a desperate plea to stay with him.
“I- wha-I- what?” You shake your head. “Marcus, I can’t- I can’t put you in danger. Roberta had connections. I- I should have called the Marshal just as soon as you recognized me.” You admit quietly. You had selfishly wanted to spend a little bit of time with him. “I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of me.”
Marcus shakes his head, “no. I’m a goddamn fed sweetheart. I can protect you. Let me protect you.I don’t - I can’t lose you again.” He says, “I can keep you safe.”
Your heart melts and you look down at the letter. “We will need to call the Marshal assigned to my case.”
Marcus nods, heart sinking that you’re going to leave again. He swallows harshly, feeling the second chance at possibly being with you slip away and it kills him. He hates it. “Uh, yeah. I’ll, um, give you some privacy. Where’s your bathroom?” He asks, needing to pee.
You show him towards the bathroom and pull out your phone to call the number you have. Taking a deep breath, you hope they will let Marcus watch over you. Your heart beats wildly as the phone rings.
Marcus stares in the mirror, his eyes wide as he thinks about losing you again. He barely survived the first time he lost you. He isn’t sure he can do it again. He swallows harshly and washes his hands, making his way back into the living room to hear what the marshal says.
“Marcus Pike. Yes- yes I know that is my old boyfriend.” You repeat on the phone to Marshal Scott. “He’s an FBI agent. He’s working on a break in at my art gallery.” You pause, your eyes sliding to Marcus as he walks back in the room. “No, no the break in was about a painting. I didn’t think I needed to call you. Yes.” You sigh. “I know I should have called you when he recognized me, but I didn’t. I just- I wanted to be me for a little bit.”
Marcus leans against your kitchen counter, not wanting to interrupt and he’s nervous about the answer. He knows how this works and he is worried about you disappearing and him never seeing you again, just like before.
“No. No, don’t do that.” You have been watching Marcus this entire time and you decide you can’t leave. Scott wants to relocate you again, like you had expected. “He’s an FBI agent. He said I could stay at his place.” That’s not exactly what Marcus had said, but your improvising. “Yes, I’m declining a relocate.” Another long pause while Scott reminds you exactly what Roberta had ordered for you. “Yes, I know. I know I’m risking my life.” You sigh and relax. “I’ll call you with the details.”
Marcus relaxes slightly, glad that you aren’t relocating yet. The marshal could change his mind but he agrees to it for now. You hang up the phone and Marcus offers you a reassuring smile. “You wanna come to mine tonight or tomorrow?”
“Can we go tonight?” You ask quietly. “I don’t like the idea they know where I am.” You shiver slightly and look towards your windows, thankfully already shut and covered. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if it was okay first.”
Marcus nods, stepping closer to you to place his hand on your upper arm. “Of course we can.” He assures you, knowing you have to be scared after so long on the run. “Come on baby, go pack what you need. I can always come back with you if you need something you forget.”
You nod and quickly make your way into the bedroom so you can pack a bag. You’ll have to close the gallery, but that has already been planned because of the break in. At your underwear drawer, you bite your lip, chastising yourself as you throw some lingerie in it. Knowing that it won’t be used, but you can’t help but want to feel a little sexy around the love of your life.
When you come back out, Marcus is already checking the vicinity outside of your window, discreetly looking for any out of place cars or people. “I think it’s clear but you need to stay close to me. We will get your car tomorrow, it needs to be checked and I don’t want them to have put a tracker on it and us not notice and lead them right to you.” He explains and you nod. “You got everything?” He asks. You nod again and he gestures for you to shift behind him. “Stay five paces behind me.”
Your eyes widen at how direct and professional he is. It’s a turn on if you are honest and he transforms from the sweet man you have loved since you were twenty, to a steely eyed agent in front of your eyes. Staying five steps behind him, you stop when he stops and watch as he scans the parking lot before hustling you to his car.
Marcus pushes you into his car and grabs your bag to put it in the trunk before he makes his way to the driver's side. He gets in and checks his surroundings before he’s pulling away from your apartment complex. “I’ll take the long way home. Looping around just in case someone follows.” He explains and he turns the radio off, wanting to concentrate. “How many times have you moved?” He asks? Wanting to know.
“Four.” You admit, nervously glancing behind you every twenty seconds. “They found me once right after they arrested Roberta. Then they followed the agents when I testified. And once more when an old high school friend ended up being in the same town.” You bite your lip. “When they followed the agents, they killed them.” You don’t want that to happen to Marcus. “Maybe it’s better if you put me in a hotel.”
Marcus shakes his head, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “No. No. I’m not sending you off. I- I can’t do that. I can’t - I’d never see you again. I know I’m being selfish but I can keep you safe. You just have to listen to everything I tell you.” He says, “I don’t want to lose you.”
Listening to him ramble, you realize how much your disappearance affected him. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur quietly, wanting to reach out and touch him, but it would distract him. “Am I-“ you break off and then take a breath. “Why did you go into the FBI, Marc?” You ask softly. You don’t want to assume that you are the reason that he changed his career goals, but it was a bit of a stretch from music and business - to appease his parents - to being an FBI agent.
Marcus sighs, biting his lip for a moment before he responds back to you. “I- I was so desperate to find you when you disappeared. Just to know what happened. If you were dead or if I did something wrong. I wanted to have closure so I figured that becoming a cop would get me access but I decided to go further and become a fed. Went to Quantico and even when I graduated and started my first job, I couldn’t find you in the system. Business wasn’t going to get me answers. Music certainly wasn’t.”
“I - I’m so sorry.” You can never apologize enough, and you can only hope that his job fulfills him. That he enjoys the work he does. “I wish I had gotten to talk to you one last time before I left. I begged them, cried for weeks and they even had to hospitalize me because I was so sick from crying. My entire world was gone and it nearly killed me.”
Marcus swallows harshly, hating to hear that. “Sweetheart, I wish - there’s so much I would change but I like my job. I like helping people and putting bad guys away. It’s fulfilling and I can help change peoples lives. I wish- I wish it was me who was sent away. I would’ve traded places with you in a heartbeat.”
“This life has been hard, Marc.” You shake your head. “It’s lonely and I wouldn’t wish that on you. You are too social. You like being around people, talking to people too much. And your parents…..” you had loved how welcoming his parents were when you met them. It would have killed them to lose their only child.
He wishes he could turn back the clock. Stop you going to that damn outlet mall and keep you safe with him so he wouldn't have missed you for fifteen years. Marcus nods, knowing he would’ve found it hard but he would’ve done it if it meant keeping you safe. “I - I could’ve dealt with it.” He says, shifting his hands on the steering wheel. “I love - I loved you so much.” He murmurs, pulling into his community.
“I loved you too.” It’s easy to admit, even if all those old feelings are rushing back with astonishing speed. Not that you ever really fell out of love with him. You admire the neat brick of the stately townhomes. “Wow, you found one here?” You ask, knowing that you had never managed to find anything close to this when you had been looking.
Marcus smiles, “yeah. I…I was supposed to move in here with my fiancé but- that one. Yeah. I- I envisioned having a family here and it didn’t happen but it is what it is.” He says, sounding a little sad but he can’t help but mourn a life he could’ve had.
“I’m sorry.” It hurts to think of Marcus with someone else, but it's been fifteen years. You don’t have any claim on him. “Hopefully one day you will have the life you want. I would just love to use my name. My real name. It seems like getting married and having kids is the dream of another life. I used to look forward to it, but now?” You shrug. “Life hasn’t turned out the way either of us wanted it seems.”
Marcus nods, "I know." He murmurs and he kills the engine of his car. "Shall we go inside?" He asks, wondering if you are ready. "I'm gonna get out first and make sure there's no one in the vicinity and then I will get you in, then grab your bag." He says, leaving no room for argument when it comes to your safety.
You nod, watching as he steps out of the car and you clutch your purse. It’s overwhelming, watching his dark eyes roam over the parking lot and then he walks over to you and opens the door. He’s professional, but there’s more to it, this is personal for him and it makes you shiver. Feeling for the first time in fifteen years like you might be safe.
When Marcus opens his front door, he disarms it and locks the door behind you, telling you to wait there while he checks his home hasn’t been found. After sweeping the home, he comes back into the hallway and nods, “all clear.” He says and you make your way into his home.
Marcus’ home is exactly what you would imagine adult Marcus to have. Neat and clean, the furniture is a bit on the masculine side but there are touches of softness. A three wick candle on the coffee table, a soft looking throw over the back of the leather sofa. Comforting and inviting. You wipe your hands on your pants and sigh.
“I hope you like it here. I’m sorry it’s basic. It’s just me.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I can show you to the guest room. Let me grab your bag. I’ll lock the door on my way out.” He says and makes his way back down the hall.
You look around the living room and step into the dining room and kitchen as he opens the front door. Curious about how he lived. You open the fridge door and chuckle, not seeing much and guessing that Marcus still prefers to have someone else cook for him. He wasn’t very good at it. At least he wasn’t when you were together. Though he had all the proper cookware. Cooking had become a hobby of yours, something you could do alone. You close the door and your head turns towards the door as it opens again. Tense and hoping it’s Marcus.
He walks in with your bag, licking the door behind him, alarming the alarm system. He guides you along to his spare room, opening the door. “Hopefully it’s okay.” He says shyly, offering you a soft smile.
“It’s perfect.” It could be the couch for all you care, it’s the thought that counts. Marcus is taking you into his home. “Thank you, Marc.” Reaching out and touching his shoulder, you give him a grateful smile. “I know you didn’t have to do this. Is there any way we could have some groceries delivered? Let me cook for you to thank you?”
Marcus smiles, “yeah. I’d love that. We can arrange for groceries to be delivered.” He promises and shrugs, “I’m still as bad a cook as I ever was. It would be nice to have some home cooked meals for a change. Takeout has me doing more morning runs.” He playfully taps his stomach.
“Whatever.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You’re hotter now than you were back then.” You blurt out, feeling your face burn when you realize you said that out loud. It could be wrong, but you don’t think so. Not when Marcus suddenly ducks his head and you swear you see him blush some. “I’m assuming I’m staying here until the threat is gone?” You ask. “No work?”
He nods, “no work. We can’t risk them finding you there.” He says and you sigh but concede. “For the record, you have always been gorgeous. Even more so now.” He says, biting his lip and hoping he didn’t overstep.
“And you still know how to make a girl feel like the only one in the world.” You murmur quietly, stepping closer to him and wishing that it hadn’t been fifteen years since you had last seen him. “Do you know how much that affects a girl?”
Marcus blushes slightly, feeling like a college kid again despite a divorce and a failed engagement. He’s been around the block and he is scared to screw things up, especially when he has to keep you safe. He clears his throat and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “I have missed you, sweetheart.”
“If it’s not something you want, or you can’t, let me know.” You start off, deciding that you want to take a leap and see if Marcus still wants you. “But…” you step closer. “If I have to be in your house, protected by you….” You smirk and bite your lip. “Wouldn’t I be safest in your bed?”
Marcus swallows harshly, a little nervous but his cock is already hardening at the thought of having you in his arms. He steps closer until his chest is pressed against yours. “I think that would probably be best.” He agrees, “that way I can ensure your well-being.” He murmurs, his eyes darting down to your lips. He knows he’s crossing so many professional lines but fuck, he wants you. “I shouldn’t but-” He surges forward to press his lips to yours, unable to stop himself.
You moan into the kiss, immediately tangling your fingers into his hair and tugging on it like you used to. In an instant, you feel like you are in your twenties again, hopelessly in love and needing your boyfriend. “Marcus.” You whimper, pulling back so you can push his jacket off his shoulders and pause when you see his gun. “Take me to your bed and make love to me.”
He groans, reluctantly pulling back and he takes your hand, guiding you to his bedroom. He flicks the lamp on and works on removing his gun, checking the safety and setting it down on his nightstand before he shrugs out of the holster. He pulls his tie off and reaches for you, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it out of your skirt, wanting to touch you after so many years. “God, you’re still so fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, his eyes drinking you in when you are in your bra.
Your fingers work the buttons of his dress shirt, trying to remember the last time you had been this excited to sleep with someone. You’ve had lovers over the years, the physical needs making it almost certain you would have them, but no one had ever compared to Marcus. “Fuck,” you can see the tent he’s starting to sport, obviously still a boxers man.
Marcus fumbles to unclasp your bra, needing to touch you and when you drop your arms to let him pull it off of you after you push his shirt down his arms, his hands immediately cup your tits. “Have these gotten bigger?” He asks, squeezing them and massaging them.
“Yes.” Your eyes flutter closed as he touches you, managing to blindly push his shirt over shoulders that seem broader than they used to be. He’s in an undershirt, of course he is, and you love it. “I’m bigger.” You joke.
He shakes his head and reluctantly releases you so he can pull his shirt over his head with one hand. Once it’s fluttering to the floor, he’s reaching for you and pulling you against him so he can feel your skin on his. “Forgot how beautiful your tits are.” He says and leans down to kiss along your neck.
“Fuck Marc.” You moan, tilting your head back so he can kiss more of your skin. “You always were a tits man.” You tease him, reaching between you to squeeze his hard cock through his suit trousers.
He groans into your skin, inhaling the sweet scent that’s purely you. Burned into his memory from all those years ago and it’s like coming home. His lips kiss along your chest until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth, his hands caressing your back and sliding down to squeeze your ass as he hunches over you.
Gasping out in pleasure, you pull him towards your breast. Enjoying the way that he suckles and bites, the way he’s remembered how you like to be touched. He switches over to the other breast and he slides his hand around you to start unbuttoning your pants.
Marcus works fast to push your skirt down your legs, groaning your name as he exposes your underwear and he kneels, pushing his nose against your mound. “God, I forgot how good you smell.” He groans and hooks his fingers in the cotton, dragging them down and you kick your panties aside after kicking your shoes off of your feet. Marcus dives back in, his nose pressing into your folds as his tongue slides through them, tasting you for the first time in fifteen years.
“Marc!” Your cry is strangled, almost choked out as you grasp for anything to keep you upright. Hand slapping against the wall as you remember exactly why you loved Marcus’ tongue so much. His skills have only improved with time and you moan when he flicks his tongue over your clit expertly.
His fingers curl around your leg, lifting it into his shoulder so he can get deeper into your pussy. His tongue pushing deep and he groans your name. “Fuck baby. So good.” He murmurs into your flesh when he pulls back for a moment, “always tasted so good.” He dives back in and slides his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth.
Having Marcus eat you out is like a gift from God. Most men are lazy with it, or refuse to go down on someone even though they expect a blowjob. Marcus eats pussy like he was born to do it, like it’s his favorite sport in the world. Making you shiver when he groans into your folds and your leg trembles as he pushes you closer to cumming.
He pushes you further into the wall, keeping you upright and his hand slides along your leg and up your body to squeeze your tit, pinching your nipple and his other hand slides between your legs, pushing two fingers inside of you with a groan. He desperately wants you to cum for him now.
“Oh fuck, Marc baby, baby, I’m gonna cum.” You moan, your head hitting the wall with a thud and your entire body lurches forward. “Shit, gonna- gonna cum.” Your walls clench down on him and you wail his name as you soak his fingers.
Marcus hisses into your flesh as you clamp down on his fingers, soaking them, and he sucks on your clit a little harder, wanting to absorb every second of your orgasm after so many years apart. His fingers pump inside of you and he pulls his mouth away when you start to shove on his hair and he tilts his head up so he can watch you as you cum.
Desperate little gasps rip out of your throat as he keeps your body jerking and twitching for him. Knowing exactly where to press inside you cunt in order to push another sob out of you. Your eyes are closed and you start chanting his name. “Marc, Marc, Marc baby, please.”
He wants you to cum again. His fingers keep pressing and pushing inside of you, his lips kissing along your thigh and he presses his thumb against your clit. “So good for me baby.” He murmurs, needing you to cum for him.
Your eyes spring open when you realize he wants you to roll straight into a second orgasm. “Fuck!” You squeal, feeling your walls bear down on his fingers again and your body shakes as you come apart.
His fingers curl and he kisses your stomach as he enjoys the way your walls are fluttering around his fingers. He adds a third, stretching you out and his thumb rubs your clit a little harder, “so pretty. Never forgot how pretty you are like this.”
“Marcus.” You groan. “I need you.” You reach down and try to pull him up so you can kiss him. “I want you inside me.” You beg. “I have an IUD and it’s been over a year since I’ve been with anyone. More like two.”
“Cum on my fingers and I’ll fuck you.” He promises, kissing your stomach again and his free hand reaches for yours to grip it. “Cum for me again.” He pleads, wanting to see you do it.
“Three?” You gasp out, holding onto his hand like a lifeline as you try to stay upright. Your leg threatens to give out as he continues to pump his fingers into you deep and precise. Pressing against that special spot again. Your breath echoes in your ears until stars burst behind your eyes and you scream out his name.
He nearly loses it when you cum again, clamping down on his fingers and he works you through it until you are slumping over him. He withdraws his fingers, surging forward to press his lips to yours as your leg is still wrapped around his waist as he presses you against the wall while his tongue tangled with yours.
You moan, tasting yourself on his tongue and not minding it one bit. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. Needing to feel him against you as he presses you into the wall.
Marcus needs you. He scrambles to pull you along with him and soon he’s laying you down on his bed, working on his pants to push them down. He groans in relief at finally having his cock free and you whimper in response at seeing it again. He kicks off his shoes and hops out of his pants, eventually ending up kneeling on the bed.
“God, I missed you.” You whisper, drinking in the sight of him. He’s filled out, not quite as skinny as he was in college. Broader and stronger and he still turns you on more than any other man you’ve ever been with. “Come to me, baby.” You reach out for him, wanting to feel him again.
Marcus can’t deny you anymore. He shifts between your legs, his chest heaving as he grips his cock and notches himself at your entrance. His dark eyes meet yours in the lamplight as he starts to push inside of you. Shifting to his forearms so he can press his lips to yours.
It’s overwhelming and perfect. Your lips melting against his as the girth of him stretches you out. Filling you perfectly like you’ve never been able to replicate with anyone else. Your eyes flutter closed and all you can do is moan your pleasure.
He slides his tongue against yours, enjoying the way you seem to melt beneath him. There’s so much he wants to say but he can’t. He can’t tell you how much he loves you when he can show you. He moves his hips, setting a slow place, his lips shifting to kiss down your neck.
Instead of being frantic and rushed, you find the pace turning slow and steady. Making you groan as you start to rock you hips in rhythm with him. Your fingers caress his back and you feel the muscles dance underneath the skin. “Marcus.”
He should be frantic but after so many years without you, he just needs to feel all of you. He moans your name into your skin, his cock twitching inside of you when your nails dig into his back when he hits something deep inside of you. “Missed you. Missed this so much.” He murmurs, his heart pounding in his chest.
“I missed you too, baby.” You promise him, closing your eyes and smiling as he moans again. “Fuck, I - I love you.” You confess. “I’ve never stopped, it’s always been you.”
Marcus swears his heart stops at that moment. “Always been you.” He echoes, “I love you. I love you. Baby, I love you.” He declares breathlessly and his pace gets a little faster with his need to see and hear you fall apart beneath him again.
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moan his name again. “I love you.” You pant. “Marcus, I love you. Oh, it’s so good.” Your nails dig into his shoulders and your cunt squeezes him tight. “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”
You gasp and he keeps the pace and thrust of his hips the same, not wanting to change when you tell him you’re about to cum. He wants to feel it. He wants to feel you soak him again. “That’s it sweetheart. Do it. Cum for me.”
You want to stay in this moment forever. The way that his body is slick with sweat and his grunts as he rocks into you. The warmth of his breath washing over your skin and the throbbing of the veins in his cock against your walls. Still, he had begged you to cum and that’s all you can. Your body primed for it and the next thrust as your back arching and your cry ripping from your throat.
“Fuck.” Marcus pants when you clamp down on his cock. It’s so good and he loves it. He loves everything about this moment. It’s more than anything he’s experienced since you disappeared from his life. Even his marriage could never have lived up to this. He groans, knowing he should try and make you cum again but the emotions are too much and he’s soon pushing deep inside of you, cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot seed.
Once he collapses on top of you, you can’t help but giggle. Relief, joy and happiness all roll together to make you try to catch your breath while you stroke his back and kiss his shoulder and neck. “God. I have to be dreaming.” You giggle. “This is the best dream and I don’t want to wake up.”
Marcus shifts onto his back, bringing you with him and his cock is softening inside of you. His hands rubbing your back. “Me neither. I never want to lose you again.” He murmurs, eyes closed as he breathes you in.
You hum in agreement, unable to believe that you are back in his arms and you close your eyes. Relaxing into a deep sleep, finally feeling safe for the first time in fifteen years.
Marcus holds you as you fall asleep, not able to fall asleep just yet and he shifts carefully to lay you down. You stir without his heat but he’s quick to cover you up. He sneaks into the bathroom, wetting a rag to clean you up and covers you with the duvet again. He checks the windows and doors, making sure the home is secure and the alarm is set before he grabs two bottles of water and sets one down on the nightstand for you. He slides under the covers and you immediately reach for him, curling into his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he breathes you in and closes his eyes; deciding then and there that he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.
****
Glancing at the clock as you stir, you wonder when Marcus will be home. Grinning to yourself as you realize that you think of this townhouse as home. It’s only been a few days, but if you are scared, you don’t feel like it. You’ve been puttering around the house when he has to leave, curling up with him when he’s here. It’s been magical and it makes you yearn for the life you would have had together if you hadn’t been put into witness protection.
Marcus is exhausted, rubbing his forehead as he stares at the latest security footage where he’s trying to find Roberta. On top of trying to find the art thief, he’s personally working to try and find the gang making you conceal from the world. He feels guilty that he’s loved having you in his home, coming home to you every night. It’s like living a fantasy of what if he had proposed and you hadn’t disappeared. He loves it. He loves you. It’s hard to remind himself that you’re in danger and he has to help you otherwise it could be your life. He glances at the clock and decides to call it a day, wanting to go home to you.
The table is set and there’s a bottle of wine open to breathe. It might be a little over the top for a Tuesday night, but you have nothing else to do but work on some recipes that you have been wanting to try. A little romantic and it pairs well with the lingerie that you had decided to put on under your dress. Feeling a little like a 1950’s housewife when you hear the designated three raps on the door to say that Marcus is home.
Marcus unlocks the door, disarming the alarm and resetting it with his entrance and he makes sure the door is locked behind him before he sets his briefcase down and makes his way into the kitchen. “Hey sweetheart. God, that smells good.” He groans, looking over at the stove and he reaches for you, dragging you into his chest so he can press his lips to yours.
“Hey.” You light up when you see him again. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving. I can eat too.” He teases, smirking at you and you giggle and slap his chest. “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours, “can’t believe I get to come home to you every night.” He confesses, “feels like a goddamn dream and I’m gonna wake up at some point.”
“I do too.” You agree softly, your hand sliding down to caress his cheek. “It’s been such a treat, as horrible as that sounds. I know I can’t go outside and my life is in danger, but I get to have you.” You lean in and kiss him softly. “How was your day, baby?”
“Don’t worry baby. I’m gonna find him. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you softly again. “Day was…laborious. I was going over the security footage and files for both cases and I- I am trying to run through accounts but the bureaucracy slows me down.” He confesses with a frown.
“Then it sounds like a good meal and a relaxing night is just.” You kiss his chin. “What.” Your lips brush his cheek. “You.” Another to his nose. “Need.” You smirk as you kiss his lips. “I’m thinking that after you eat, you need a nice, long, luxurious blow job to put you at ease.”
Marcus chuckles, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “You’re too good to me, baby.” He shakes his head, “as long as I get to eat you out too.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss along your jaw just as the timer for your cooking goes off. He smacks your ass, “I’ll pour the wine and I’m doing the washing up. You are gonna relax after.” He insists, shrugging off his jacket to hang it in the hallway before he comes back in to get the bottle of wine.
You would protest, but you’ve cleaned as you cooked, so there’s only the final dish and the plates that would need to be cleaned up. You rush to plate up dinner and admire him as he rolls up his sleeves to pour the wine after he pulls off his tie. It’s a nice night, the two of you and a good meal, some wine and continuing to learn about each other’s lives while you’ve been apart. “Oh, before I forget, I called Scott today. Checked in. He’s still not happy, but he says you have been keeping them in the loop, so he’s content to leave me here.”
Marcus nods, setting the wine bottle down. “I know he’s not happy but it is what it is. We haven’t had any notes or any threats since you’ve been here. We’ve had a man outside your place since you left and they haven’t seen any activity. I think you’re safe. No, I know you’re safe.” He tries to assure you, “and I swear to you I’ll find the bastard and his team.”
“I know you will.” You’ve learned a lot about his career and exactly how good of an agent Marcus is. “I’m honestly-“ you shrug. “I’m happy right here. I know I’m probably intruding on your personal space, but I’ve been as relaxed as I could possibly be, given that someone is trying to kill me.” You joke.
Marcus shakes his head, reaching for you. “There’s nowhere else I want you to be than right here with me. I was selfish. You’d be safer across the country but I - I couldn’t lose you again. I love you so much.” He says, leaning in to kiss your forehead again.
Marcus chuckles, letting go of you so you can both sit down to eat. He groans at the sight of the meal you’ve cooked and his stomach rumbles. “I gotta get bigger pants. I haven’t eaten this good since I left my mom’s house.” Marcus chuckles, picking up the serving spoon. “You are too good to me.” He murmurs, looking up to meet your gaze and he serves your plate first.
“Not with all the exercise you’ve been getting.” You tease, sending him a small wink. Every night Marcus has exhausted you. Fucking you in every room of this townhouse and almost every surface with his insatiable appetite for you. Both of you collapse into bed to sleep in each other's arms. It’s like you’re twenty again. “Still sexy and fit.”
He can’t help but flush as he serves himself and sets the spoon down. “The exercise has been keeping me fit.” He says while blushing and he reaches for the glass of wine. “To still being sexy and fit.” He toasts and you clink your glass with his. “I know you are getting bored in this place. I’m doing everything I can to get this bastard so you can have your life back. See your parents. Your friends. I’m doing what I can.” He promises after you have finished eating.
“I would love to see my parents.” You admit, reaching out and gasping his hand. “Would you- would you come with me?” You ask. “When I go to see them? Explain what happened? I understand if you can’t, you’re putting off so much to help me.”
Marcus nods, “of course. Of course I’ll be there. Baby, what - this is-” He swallows harshly and squeezes your hand, “every day I allow myself to believe that this is our life together. I have a little fantasy that I’m coming home to my wife. To our family. I imagine us having a child or two. I- I want this to be forever. Like I wanted it to be forever fifteen years ago. It’s always been you.” He promises, feeling guilty for being married and engaged but those failed because those women never matched up.
He’s apologized to you for not looking for you harder, for moving on. All things that you never expected and don’t want him to be upset over. Those expressive eyes search yours and you smile softly. “It’s been my little fantasy too.” You confess. “When you find Roberta and I can be myself again, why don’t we make that a reality?” You ask. “Would you marry me, Marcus?”
“In a heartbeat.” He assures you, “I’d marry you tomorrow if I could. I- I was going to, you know, I was going to propose not long after I played you that song. I always imagined my life with you. No one else. Even when I was married, I thought of what could have been. I want to marry you.” He promises, “and I will. I’ll get Roberts and you can be Mrs. Pike. Have the life we should’ve had.”
You can’t help but grin, leaping up from your chair so you can rush around and press your lips to his in a greedy kiss. Feeling like every dream you’ve created to keep yourself sane is coming true. Marcus is your knight in shining armor and you want nothing more than for him to rescue you. “Whatever you need me to do, to help you put this behind us, I’m willing to do.” You promise him. “I want to start my life with you.”
Marcus pulls you into his lap, cupping your cheek so he can kiss you again. “I love you.” He murmurs, nudging your nose, and he will do anything he can to keep you safe. Even if it means laying down his own life. He will do it to keep you safe.
“Baby, don’t worry about cleaning up, let’s go to  bed.” You beg, caressing his cheek. “I need you. I need you so much.”
Marcus can’t refuse you. He nods, shifting to stand up with you and he takes your hand, dishes abandoned as he guides you to the bedroom, your now shared bedroom. When he is holding you after you’ve made love and you’re asleep, he’ll stare at the ceiling, trying to think of anything that he read in the files to help him catch the bastard that’s after you. 
You decide that you don’t want Marcus to undress you. Pulling away from him with a smile, you’re happy you decided on a wrap dress that is easily removed. Most morning Marcus leaves you in the bed, pulling away quietly so he doesn’t disturb you and when you wake up, it’s because of the shower. So he didn’t see the lingerie you had chosen for him.
Marcus groans when you unravel your dress. His eyes drinking in the silk and lace clinging to your body and his cock is now throbbing in his slacks. “Fuck baby. You look so good.” He murmurs, “so good. I’m so lucky to have you.” He declares and surges forward to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close so he can press his lips to yours, pushing the dress off of your shoulders.
Moaning softly, you smile into the kiss, just as eager. Just as wanting as Marcus. Your fingers memorizing how many buttons it takes to strip off his smart dress shirts. Eager to feel his warm skin underneath. “Make love to me Marcus.” You beg. 
He won’t say no, couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. He wants you. Fuck, he wants this for the rest of his life. When your hands touch his chest, he groans your name and he unclasps the pretty lace bra, “so pretty. Look so pretty in this.”
“I think you like me in anything.” You tease him, giggling quietly. “But you love me in nothing.” You work on his belt to unclasp it and unhook his pants to reach down and squeeze his cock. Groaning when you feel how hard he is.
“Love you in anything and nothing at all. Love every inch of you.” He promises, “I love you. You.” He murmurs, sliding his hands along your back and then your arms as he slides the straps down your arms until he’s ducking down to take your nipple into his mouth.
There’s something about Marcus, he’s thorough. He wants his partner to be satisfied and he finds what makes them tick. Your moan of his name is soft, accompanied by your wrist twisting, starting to pump his cock as best you can. “Baby, no foreplay. I just need you.” You whine.
He whines back, having wanted to eat you out but he doesn’t deny you. He nods, guiding you back towards the bed and he lays you down while he shrugs out of his pants and throws his clothes on the floor. His hands trail along your legs until he’s hooking his fingers into your panties to drag them down.
“Marcus.” You whimper, rocking your hips up as he stands straight and strips his trousers down. His boxers have a large tent in the middle with a wet spot and you groan at the sight. “Fuck, I want you to fuck me, but I want to suck your cock.”
Marcus smirks, “tell me what you want baby. Whatever you want is yours. I’m yours.” He promises and reaches down to shove his boxers down. His cock bouncing as he kicks them aside.
 “Fuck.” You moan, biting your lip before you turn around and tilt your head off the end of the bed. “Fuck my throat, baby. I want to feel you gag me before you fuck me stupid tonight.” Making love takes various forms, after all. 
“Jesus. Such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?” He coos, shuffling closer and he caresses your neck before gripping his cock. He pushes the head between your lips and you take him inside of your mouth, making him groan. “So damn good.” He murmurs, watching you as you take him deeper, his hand immediately going to your neck so he can feel the bulge from his length.
You moan, enjoying the look on his face until your vision is blocked by his body. Letting him use your throat as you try to open it up more for him. Marcus is girthy and it’s a lot, tears leaking out of your eyes and rolling back into your hair, but you love it.
“Jesus Christ. This is - fuck. You’re gonna make me cum.” He grunts, pulling out of your mouth. He wants to try that again another time when he can properly fuck and cum down your throat but that night isn’t tonight after you’ve confessed you want a future with him. You pant, trying to catch your breath and he caresses your cheek. “How do you want me?” He asks, wanting you to decide.
So much of the time, Marcus is in control. Giving you pleasure and making sure that you enjoy yourself. Right now, you want to take care of him. “I want to ride you baby.” You decide, sitting up and reaching for him. “Let me take care of my future hubby tonight.” You coo, grinning at how that sounds.
He grins, nodding as he shifts to lay down on the bed, watching you move to your knees. “Come here, my love.” He beckons you over, needing to feel every emotion he’s withheld over the past fifteen years. He wants you to take what you want from him.
You go eagerly, crawling up his body and dropping random kisses. There’s nothing about Marcus that you don’t love. When you straddle his waist, your waist no time in dropping a kiss on his lips while you reach between the two of you to grasp his cock and quickly sink down on him.
“Shit.” Marcus hisses, his heart about to beat out of his chest and he swears he could die then and there and be a happy man. His hands find your hips as you take all of him inside of you and he groans your name, surging up to deepen the kiss as his tongue slides into your mouth.
You start off slow. Rolling your hips while you groan into the kiss. Circling them and clenching down on Marcus to hear the lovely little gasp he gives. Your fingers find his hair and you swear you could live right here. “Love you.” You promise, sliding your hands onto his chest and pushing upright. “Whenever someone touched me, it felt so wrong. You’re my love, my lover, my soulmate.”
Marcus slides his hands along your back as you start to rock on his cock. "I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart." He murmurs, caressing you and his dark eyes watch you as you move on top of him. "You're everything. My everything." He promises, heart thumping in his chest.
“One day I want to have your babies.” You promise him, moaning softly at the thought. “You were made to be a daddy, and I can’t wait to see you holding our baby.” You clench down around him again at the thought.
Marcus groans, cock twitching inside of you at the thought. "Fuck." He grunts, hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. "Fuck yes. I want - God, I want to get you pregnant." He confesses, "always imagined you as the mother of my children."
You know it ticks off some primal things for Marcus, it does for you too. You moan softly again and rock forward to kiss him. “I want that. At least two.” You pant into his mouth, imagining the two of you as new parents. Building the life you had daydreamed about when you were incredibly lonely.
“At least.” He agrees, knowing he won’t be able to keep his hands off of you when he gets you pregnant. “God, I love - I can’t not love you. Haven’t stopped since you left. No one was you. They were never you.” He confesses, helping you rock on his cock.
Your heart melts at that sentiment. Smiling against his lips as he continues to help you ride him. Slowly speeding up to where his cock hits perfectly inside you. Feeling him twitch every time he is seated deep as if he is ready to fill your womb with his seed.
"Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart? What do you need? Tell me what you need to soak my cock?" He asks, wanting to feel it, he needs to feel it.
“Just you baby.” You gasp, slapping your hands down in his chest and starting to rock faster. “Gonna cum baby, fuck, you feel so good.” You moan. “So full, fuck, you’re so thick, baby.” You always love how thick he is and how well he fills you up. “Love you, so fucking much.”
“That’s it. That’s it sweet girl. Fuck, that’s it. Cum for me.” He begs, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you rock your hips a little faster. Those little whines and whimpers escaping your mouth tell him you’re close and he slides his hand down to rub your clit.
Your toes curl and you cry out, your orgasm slamming into you and making you lurch forward. Collapsing again this chest and chanting his name over and over as your body spasms.
Marcus groans at the way you clamp down on his cock and he moves fast to lay you on your back. Grabbing your thighs to lift them onto his waist so he can sink deep into your quivering cunt. He groans your name, his cock twitching inside of you as he gets close but he needs you to cum more time for him.
“Baby!” You squeal, feeling your body tense up as you ride out your orgasm. You would beg him to cum but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he has no intention of cumming until you do again. Marcus prides himself on making you cum multiple times. “Fuck baby.” Your nails scratch down his back and you tighten your thighs around him, closing your eyes and feeling your core start to tighten again as he rockets you to another orgasm.
Marcus pushes deeper, harder, the affection from before replaced with pure lust. Driven by the need to claim you, he thrusts into you over and over again. “Cum.” He chokes, needing to feel it and when you clamp down on his cock for the second time, he can’t help but paint your walls with his hot seed as he orgasms with you.
Moaning his name softly, you stroke his back as he groans. Enjoying the softness of his embrace as you both start to relax. “I love you.” You murmur quietly. “I can’t want to start our life together.”
Marcus presses his forehead to your chest, breathing you in, and he murmurs, "me too baby. I can't wait. Once you're safe, it's the two of us for the rest of our lives." He promises, kissing along your neck. "I love you."
After you’ve cleaned up and settled against Marcus, you fall asleep. Wondering when the shoe is going to drop and worrying that you might lose him again.
****
Marcus checks the time, knowing he should be calling you to touch base. He likes to call every hour or so to make sure everything is okay at home. He picks up his cell, dialing the burner phone he got you and he waits for it to ring. No answer. Weird. He doesn’t like that. He tries again. No answer.
At first, you thought Marcus was home, until there was no rap at the door. Abandoning the meal you were prepping, you grab your phone, your heart pounding in your chest as you race up the stairs as quietly as you can. Reaching the second floor just as the door opens and the blare of the alarm sounds out, though it’s quickly silenced. The phone buzzes but all you can think is that you need to hide, as fast as possible and call Marcus. It’s seems as if you’ve been found.
When you finally answer the phone, Marcus can’t help but ask if you’re okay. Frantic when you answer and don’t actually speak. “Baby. Tell me. Tell me if you’re okay. Please. I -talk to me. Talk to me.” He begs, needing to hear that you’re okay.
Your mouth is dry and you can barely whisper. “Marcus.” You manage. “He’s here. Someone’s in the house.” You try to keep your voice as low as you can, terrified that you will give away your hiding spot under the bed.
Marcus’s blood runs cold when he hears your whisper and he fears for your life. He grabs his work landline, dialing his team to get people over to his house right away. He’s terrified for you. “Just hold on baby. Stay on the phone. I’ll be right there.” He promises, standing up from the desk so he can get home.
“Hurry.” You breathe out, turning the volume down and holding your breath as you hear the first signs of someone downstairs since the alarm went off.
Marcus shoves himself away from his desk, heart pounding as he rushes towards his car after telling his team about how he has to get to you. He can’t lose you again. His heart pounds and he speeds, his team following as he gets to his home in record time.
You never realize how loud you are when you breathe until you are trying to be completely silent. Scrunching back under the bed as far as you can go and slowly sliding the storage boxes in front of you so you are well hidden. Listening for the creak on the third stair that Marcus groans about having repaired.
Marcus has you on the phone, having switched lines for a mere moment  
to get a team to his house within the next ten minutes. He speeds along the roads of D.C to his home, running through reds with no care except that it’s clear. “I’m coming baby.” He promises, “I’m coming.”
You can’t acknowledge him, too terrified to make a sound as you hear someone creep up the stairs. Your blood runs cold when you hear a voice say your name. “I’ve been looking for you. Come out and I’ll kill you quickly.” He taunts. “Make me find you….well, I’ve been in prison a loooooooong time because of you.”
Marcus drives faster, pulling into his neighborhood and he hears your scream. Slamming his brake, he puts the car in park, uncaring of his engine still running as he grabs his gun and rushes through the front door. He freezes when he comes across Roberta, his gun pressed against your forehead.
He had found you, screaming and fighting, he had dragged you out from under the bed with a curse and hopefully a bruised shin. Until he had pressed his gun against your forehead and ordered you downstairs. Feeling like you were going to die. Until the door opens and Marcus busts in. “Marc!”
Marcus’s finger is over the trigger. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Pike. I’ll blow her pretty head off. I want you to know that I’ve been watching. Listening. All those little promises of the future. Having kids. Getting married. It’s so sweet it’s sickening.” He coos sarcastically. “And now that future is gone.” He says and Marcus shakes his head, “you’ve served your time. You could walk away. Leave her alone.” He counters and Roberta growls, “no! She is the reason I served so long. She’s gonna die.” He promises, pushing the barrel into your head.
You squeeze your eyes shut and then you have to open them. Needing to see Marcus one last time. The idea that this man has been stalking the house, listening to your conversations and plans for the future, listening to you making love, is sickening. “I love you Marcus.” You promise him, watching his eyes slide from Roberta to you. “It’s always been you. Always.”
Marcus feels like he’s gonna be sick. “She hasn’t done anything. She’s been alone for so long. She has suffered enough. You both have.” He lies, “let her go and you won’t be arrested. You can walk free. Start again. I won’t come after you. Just let her go and you are a free man.”
You feel the tension rising in the room. Something is about to happen. Something that will end in the death of one of you. “If it weren’t for her, this bitch, I wouldn’t have gone to jail!” Roberta hisses and you know he won’t walk away. He won’t quit until you are dead. You remember one self defense move that had been taught to you by the Marshal’s office. Playing dead. “I’m sorry.” You tell him, watching his eyes slide from Marcus to you and you let your knees give out and drop to the ground.
Roberta isn’t quick enough and the gun goes off, embedding the bullet in the wall. The next thing you know, Marcus’s team are storming the house and they don’t waste time killing Roberta. His head jerks back as the bullet enters his head. The gun falls to the floor and Marcus is quick to grab it.  Marcus pulls out the magazine and empties the chamber, the bullet rattling to the floor. The bullet that could’ve killed you. He reaches for you once Roberta is dead on the floor and he pulls you into his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
You’re shaking. Once the guns started firing, you flinched in anticipation of the killing shot and now you can’t stop shaking. “I- I- I don’t- I don’t know.” You admit truthfully, throwing your arms around him and starting to sob as the reality of what could have happened hits you.
His hands check you over, rubbing your body to see if you’re hurt and when he doesn’t see any damage, he’s pulling you back into his arms, kissing your forehead. The team wants you out, into the van and away so they can check Marcus’s home. “We are going to a safe house for a couple of nights. The team will check the house for any bugs or anything I didn’t pick up on. And clean it up for us.” Marcus explains once you are on the way.
“I didn’t go out.” You stress, almost desperate for him to believe you. “I didn’t call anyone and tell them where I was. No one.” You cling to him, unable to let him go as you try to calm yourself down. “I promise, I didn’t.”
Marcus shakes his head, “it’s not your fault baby. These people…they have ways of finding out where you are. It’s not your fault.” He promises, “he found you and now he’s dead. It’s over. You can reinstate your identity.” He tells you, “you can be you again.”
“I can be me.” You whisper softly, eyes wide when you realize that it’s truly over. After fifteen years, you are finally free. “Oh my God.” Happy tears fall down your cheek and you start to giggle.
Marcus grins, relieved for you and happy after knowing everything you’ve been through. “I love you so much.” He murmurs, caressing your cheeks, “you can see your parents. You can - you’re free.”
“Marry me.” You beg quietly. “As soon as I am legally myself, I want to be Mrs. Marcus Pike.”
Marcus’s eyes widen and he nods, “yes. Yes. God - baby - as soon as we are able to, I wanna marry you.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you softly, his thumbs wiping away your tears.
You smile, unable to believe that your life has taken such an incredible turn. Your future had been changed by a madman, forced into hiding and completely altering your path. Somehow brought back to Marcus by complete coincidence and now, you are able to take your life back and spend it with Marcus.
****
“I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The officiant declares and Marcus surges forward to kiss your lips, his hands tenderly cupping your cheeks. The crowd cheers, made up of your parents, his parents, and the friends you have made together since Roberta was killed and the ones from college who were shocked to see you after you made your official appearance back in the world. It’s been a long journey, fifteen years in the making, but you and Marcus are finally where you were meant to be all along. Married and in love. Next thing on the agenda? Getting you pregnant.
186 notes · View notes
henneseyhoe · 8 months
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My Big Three As Boyfriends|
Trevante♡
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You wanna have the perfect balance of a country boy and a city boy rolled into one? He’s the man for you!
His love feels like coming into a warm house after shoveling snow.
The first time you two ever kissed, my lady by Tyrese played in the background and since then ‘my lady’ with a brown heart has been your contact name.
He’ll sing any song you ask him to even though his ass can barely hold a tune in all seriousness.
Uncovering your ears, you start laughing. “Yes, sounds just like how Tyrese sung it” He smiles and takes a bow.
You try not to be the clingiest since he loves his space sometimes, but he definitely has his moments where he needs you near him like some kind of support teddy.
Hates when you all up on him when it’s time to sleep but always ends up damn near on top of you by the morning.
“Move, Bae, it’s hot” he groans. 8 hours later. “Tre…Trevante…baby, you crushin’ me!” You huff, trying to push his arm and leg off of you so you could go pee.
He’ll blame you as if your little ass can move him from one side of the bed to the other.
Expect booty slaps every time you walk by, and don’t let him be upset with you prior, cause it’ll be harder this time.
“Tight ass shorts” he’d say as you walked around the house as free as you wanted in the Nike shorts HE bought you.
Often play fighting and roughhousing until he accidentally hits you too hard and has to be soft with you for the rest of the day.
“Awwnnn, cmere, I didn’t think it was gonna land that hard” he holds you as you pout, rubbing your now sore arm. “That actually hurt, Tre. Like seriously 🥺”
He makes fun of the Erotic books you read, but you caught him peaking over your shoulder once and following along with one of your favorite stories.
“Don’t get too hype, I peeped something and the shit was interesting!”
Has a habit of putting his hand up your shirt when you two are cuddling.
He hates when you leave for work because he works mornings and you work nights. Sometimes on his day offs(though a bad idea) he’d stay up at night and bother you on the phone all throughout your work, dropping hints that you needed to come home on your snack break for a real meal.
-you’d brush him off and sneak off to the bathroom, sending him a titty pic to hold him off till you got home.
-‘oh wow. I just might take a trip instead actually’
-He’s definitely already taken trips up there a few times to get you right, as he should.
Michael♡
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A REAL certified loverboy
If you told him to jump, he’d ask how high.
He would never admit it but he is CLINGY. He wants to be with you and all up under you as soon as those paparazzi cameras turn off.
Also certified double texter.
‘babe’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘babe’
‘don’t act like you don’t see these texts’
‘WHAT boy’
‘I miss you’ ‘wyd my love’
‘working. Something you should be busy doin’
‘I finished already’
‘Fast reader you are. Here’s a gold star⭐️’
‘What can I say? You’re engaged to a smart man’
‘Engaged?’
Boo🩷 has unsent a message.
‘Forget you read that till further notice’
The man can’t hold water, as you can see. Which is why you don’t tell him anything that’s meant to be a secret.
He literally can’t sleep without your leg thrown over him some kind of way.
He remembers all the cute little shit you like year around so he already has a laid out plan of gifts for Birthdays, Valentines, and Christmas.
A good bit of his camera roll is just you and screenshots of things he wants to keep tabs of.
Can’t organize for shit and that’s exactly why his phone storage is about to explode
Begged you to organize his work stuff, so you agreed, until you saw NOTHING was put where it’s supposed to go.
“how do you work like this?!”
“I honestly don’t know…I- I do not know” he responds, staring at the unorganized files.
“Your assistant doesn’t take care of this stuff?”
“I don’t like to bother her like that”
“Nigga, she’s an assistant, she’s supposed to be bothered!”
Thursdays were self care days for you two. Wether you were just sitting around and watching a movie or doing actual things to improve the body, it was still self care to y’all.
Both of you are foodies, but he’s more adventurous, so he always tries to get you to try new foods when out together.
“would you ever try live squid?” He asks, looking through the menu the restaurant provided for them. “Uhh..I dunno. I don’t think I’d like it, but I’d probably try. Just have to ignore the memory of that story of that man who ate a live squid and it killed him and crawled back up his throat” he stares at you for a moment then looks back down at his menu. “Never mind then…”
Soooo protective of you and thinks you don’t stand up for yourself enough so he always makes sure you’re heard in any and all conversations.
Takes any chance to show you off. Was it cause he genuinely loved you or was it cause he liked showing niggas what they’ll never have? Both actually.
“Oh, and y’all know my girl, right? My beautiful, wonderful girlfriend” he grabs you by the hand, and kisses the top of it, pulling your attention away from your drink. You smile and look away, feeling extra appreciated.
Gentlemen in the streets, freak nasty in the sheets.
You ever came so hard that it took a few seconds for your vision to come back? Yeah.
Yahya♡
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The dynamic between the both of you is just very unserious. He is truly your bestfriend who also happens to be your boyfriend
It’s hard to get anything done when the both of you are constantly cracking jokes back and forth, a con of having the same job.
“Yahya, please, my stomach hurts!” you spoke in between laughs, tears prickling the both of y’all’s eyes as you tried to make it through a SINGULAR business email. “How the fuck do you misspell so much shit on a business email?!” He howled, wiping tears from his face and slouching in his seat, you still crying.
He blames you for when he doesn’t get much work done, but he knows damn well it’s his fault for being the goofy mf he is.
When you two were just friends, your mutual friends would tease him by calling him “boy Y/N” because you both had so much in common.
He’s your reminder to eat like a normal person
“What’d you eat today?” Yahya questions, reading over his weekly to-do list. You glare at him then look back at your computer, not answering because you didn’t wanna hear his mouth about you forgetting to eat. Sighing, he gets up and heads into the kitchen to make you something quick.
At first the relationship felt like you two were still just friends, but you both grew into being a little more intimate with each other.
You both can’t help but create small(but healthy) competitions. You were both a little more competitive than you’d like to admit, but you both had competitions so often that basically everyone you guys hung out with knew of them.
“Damn” You sigh as you watched your paper ball miss the trash basket. “Hm” Yahya hums and gets up, picking the paper ball up. Instead of throwing it away right then, he went back to his seat that was a bit farther back and took a shot, the paper effortlessly making it in the basket. You look back at him with a squint and he smirks. “Okay, bet” you whisper.
Ten minutes had gone by and you both were throwing balled up paper that you needed in the trash. To make what point? Neither of you knew, but you both were entertained.
Theres a box in his closet with Polaroid pictures of you two throughout the five years of dating each other, most taken by Yahya himself because in his words, “I just love looking at you. Pictures don’t even capture all that I see, but damn, baby”
The man could easily make you melt like some chocolate. He was just as smooth as he was when you first met him.
Once you both got more into the relationship, he was honestly the most romantic and caring person ever. He’d do anything to make you feel those butterflies.
Sent you on a corny little riddle game for Valentine’s Day once which lead you to some of your favorite places around the city until the last clue brought you home to three bouquets of your favorite flowers and a ring the size of your brown eyes.
Alexa, play whatever you want by Tony! Toni! Toné!
Some niggas don’t trick, but Yahya? Oh he’s gonna step. In the end, if you’re happy, he’s happy.
The night ended with something else a little more eventful that had the neighbors thinking to call the cops for the third time that month.
He plans on staying with you for the rest of his life, and made that know.
And he’s determined to put a baby in you one of these days, with or without that damn ring.
✮✮✮✮
Looks and bias aside, who would y’all pick as a boyfriend? 🫣 I think I’d pick Yahya 😭
513 notes · View notes
swee7dream · 3 months
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slowly but surely zhong chenle x f!reader | 2.3k words
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summary: it's the end of the year but you are finding it very difficult to be in celebratory mood.
genre: angst & fluff :3
warnings: internalized anti-agere kinda ?? not rly lolz super quick mention of a panic attack but not in depth. lmk if i missed any !!!
dni: if you sexualize age regression and/or have an 18+ blog.
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You’re going to quit your job.
You are, you’re making a promise to yourself about it and you have already decided to honor the promises you make to yourself this coming year. You are going to quit your job and nothing is going to stand in your way this time.
Only your boss would talk about an end-of-year party as a ‘compulsory team meeting’. You were supposed to have a nice simple evening with Chenle at home, making dinner together and then watching the fireworks until one of you falls asleep. A nice simple evening that did not have you hyperventilating in the bathroom out of fear you would be let go.
The plan was to stop by the store as soon as you finished your shift to ensure you got the freshest ingredients for the pesto pasta recipe you found on Pinterest and get more than the advised portions because you know for a fact half of it will end up on your kitchen floor when the play-fighting gets out of hand.
It was meant to be a night of relaxing and reflecting and not any of what you are feeling right now: stressed, angry, and murderous.
You take a sniff of your clothes as you walk from the bus stop back home, wondering if you can still wear this jacket out tomorrow or if you’ll smell like you bathed in alcohol fully dressed. Moisture seeps through your boot and into your sock from a puddle you didn’t notice on the sidewalk a couple of minutes back and you feel your entire body rejecting the sensation.
You mumble to yourself while doing quick work of inputting the PIN code to your front door lock, squeezing your eyes tight in an attempt to bring moisture back to your dried-out eyes.
‘Bath, color, cuddle, sleep. Bath, color, cuddle, sleep. Bath, color, cuddle, sleep!’
The plan for the night repeats like a broken record in your mind, mentally pushing yourself to go on just a little longer. You let out a sigh of relief when the lock finally sings its tune of entrance after three failed attempts.
“There’s my girl. I thought someone was trying to break in or something.”
The mental image of you talking with your dolls and stuffed animals shatters like a priceless vase, the shards amounting to the grains of sand in the sea.
“Hi.” You drop your bag on the floor the second you have a foot inside. You were so excited about tonight, how could you forget so quickly? Your boyfriend is so excited to see you and all you can think about is how you want everyone to die, that’s rich.
“Hey.” Chenle’s smile drops at your lack of enthusiasm. “You okay?”
“Okay… Just tired. ‘m gonna take a bath, ‘kay?” Your lips barely part as you speak and your feet don’t lift an inch from the floor, shuffling down the hallway instead. Tongue trapped between your teeth, you stop yourself from saying something you’ll regret on the way to the bathroom.
Your own gasp wakes you and you find that you’ve fallen asleep in the tub. How long have you been asleep? The water’s not exactly warm anymore and you see your fingertips have pruned up like raisins. You poke at them while leaning over the edge before sighing. Chenle’s out there waiting for you, you remind yourself, you can’t just stay pruned up like this forever.
Only for a little bit longer. You hug your knees to your chest and rest your cheek on one of them as you watch all the water from your bath swirl down the drain like a whirlpool. You can’t help but blow your lips together, mimicking the sounds you think pirates caught in a whirlpool would make.
A knock at the door.
“Everything alright in there?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m getting dressed now. I’ll be right there.” The sound of your voice surprises you, feeling it’s much deeper than it should be for some reason.
The heat coming up from the vents is still too cold for you and although you know you should keep moving to feel warm, you find it much more comfortable to just stand in place on the rug.
Water drips off you and onto the rug and the towel wrapped tight around you where you shiver. Your hair is wet and heavy and if looks could kill, the shirt you planned to change into would be on fire at the moment. The feeling of heavy, damp hair wetting your new shirt makes you roll your eyes a bit, but the knowledge of your boyfriend on the other side of the door pushes you to endure it.
You’re in your own home but you sure don’t act like it, shuffling shyly out of the bathroom with uncertain steps.
“Le?”
“Oh.” He looks up from the shelf he was carefully inspecting before. “Hey baby. Good bath?”
“…yeah. What are you holding?”
“This?” He lifts his hand. “It’s one of your crayons. I found it lying on the floor and was just looking where to put it back.”
“It’s not mine,” You state firmly with a swift snatch. “It’s my nephew’s. He came over recently.”
“…your nephew colors with glitter crayons?” Chenle tries not to eye the grip you have that crayon in.
“Yeah. He does. Is that a problem?” You tuck the crayon into the pocket of your pajama pants quickly and make your way over to the kitchen.
“It’s not a problem, I just didn’t know he moved on so fast from his ‘arts and crafts is boring’ stage.”
“He’s coming around to it.” You move around the kitchen quickly, filling and turning on the kettle.
“Good for him.” Chenle stands slowly, when did his back start hurting like this? Is he getting old? Well, he is already balding. But that’s because of the hair dye, right? It’ll grow back. Probably.
“Yeah.” You toss a tea bag into a mug. “That’s just how kids are. Thank you for finding it.”
“Mhm.”
He takes notice of how you haven’t made eye contact with him since you snatched the crayon from him, how you still don’t. You try cracking your knuckles and wrists again and again, ignoring the fact that you already did before and nothing will pop for the next while or so.
You’re lying.
Why are you lying?
“Well, now I’m jealous.” Chenle leans on the counter with his forearms, teasing smile gently nudging you to at least look his way. “How come that little kid gets to color with my girlfriend when even I haven’t done that before?”
You don’t reply but his eyes follow how you swallow an invisible lump in your throat.
“It’s not like we have the ingredients to cook dinner tonight anyway, why don’t we just spend our home date tonight just coloring? You have more crayons, right?”
“No,” You reply immediately, turning away to get the kettle when it dings. “He just left this one. Why would I have any crayons? Do you think I’m a five-year-old?”
“I never said that.” He stands up, a frown of confusion painting his face.
“Right. Well, I don’t have any of those. And I don’t want to do a coloring date. I’m dating an adult, I would like to feel like I am.”
“Adults can color.”
“No they can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because they can’t.”
The kitchen is quiet, the single noise of the spoon mixing the tea and honey in your mug. With each second of silence, the control you have on your breathing weakens.
You do want to color. You want to doodle and draw and give Chenle all your stickman drawings. You want him to show you his pictures and you want to hear him praise the color you chose for the sun’s sunglasses. You want him to color with you and play with you until you’re all tired out. When you’re asleep you want him to cradle you and cuddle you, kiss you on the forehead, and hum you lullabies in an undertone.
But it’s also so unreasonable to demand that.
He has a life just as stressful if not more than yours, to throw all your burdens on him to bear, even if just for a few hours, is wrong. You would feel too guilty. Chenle’s dating an adult, not babysitting a child. Dating you should be an option, not a burden.
“They can’t?”
“They can’t.” You shake your head, voice breaking.
Chenle takes you into arms before you fully break, leaving all your tears to stain his t-shirt. His fingers dig into your hair and your whole body shivers when you feel his nails gently scratch against your scalp.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Princess, I don’t really know what happened today. Or if it’s something you’ve been dealing with for a long time… Either way, I’m sorry. If I’m the reason you’re crying right now, I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry for not knowing what I’ve done wrong. I’m kind of slow on the uptake at times. If I’m not the reason you’re crying, I’m sorry you went through that, or, are going through that. I don’t really know…
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You looked like you were about to drop dead as soon as you walked in tonight so I wouldn’t blame you. I probably should have left earlier but I couldn’t help it. It’s the last day of the year and I really wanted to spend it with you. I’m kind of clingy like that, I guess. I was on my way here and… I was thinking how I would be ending this year and starting this next year with you and- and I wanted this to be how every year will be. Forever. Or, until you don’t it want to. Because I don’t feel like I will ever not want to be with you. I’m like… obsessed with you. But not to a point where I won’t leave if you tell me to leave. I definitely will leave if you ask me to leave. Do you want me to go? I can go. You look tired and I’m keeping you up-”
“No.” You interrupt, speaking into his chest. “Stay.”
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll stay.”
“But… I think I am gonna nap.”
“Yeah… Yeah, you should. I’ll just stay out here.”
“You’re an idiot.” You blurt. “A big dumb idiot. You’re dumb.”
“…yeah.”
“Want you to nap with me. Cuddle. Carry me.”
“Carry you…?” Chenle looks down at you, feeling whiplash at how quickly your moods change. He doesn’t question it though, melting at the sight of your big watery eyes. “Yeah, okay. Your wish is my command.”
You smile as you feel his arms wrap around you, his cologne entering your nose and giving you an incomparable high. His steps are slow and uncertain, careful to not hit your head on any doorframes. He begins lowering you onto the bed but your arms don’t loosen around his neck.
“Sorry too.” You whisper.
“For what?”
“Callin’ you dumb. You’re not dumb.”
“Thank you.” Chenle smiles, his eyes disappearing into thin little moons. “But, I am actually a little dumb.”
“No.” You frown as if the person offended was you. “Not dumb.”
“No?”
“No.” You insist. “’m the dummy.”
“What? No, Princess.” He sits on the side of the bed when his neck begins to hurt from the angle. “How could you think that?”
“’Cause,” Your eyes drop to his shirt, suddenly extremely interested in the wrinkles of his shirt. “Dunno. Thought you wouldn’t like me.”
“Wouldn’t like you? Baby, why would I not like you?”
“’Cause ‘m a dummy!” You whisper-yell at him as if he wasn’t listening. “Was bein’ mean earlier and takin’ stuff and… just wasn’t bein’ nice. And then I thought that you wouldn’t like me if I… I dunno.”
“If what?”
“If there was like… a side o’ me you didn’t really like. ‘n’ I scared you away… Don’t wanna be a bother, y’know?”
“You’re not a bother, Baby.” Chenle presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re my responsibility. I choose to do all these things. You’re never a bother. Never ever. Even if you get sick or get kicked out of your house or… I don’t know. No matter what, I choose to stay with you.”
“What if you choose to stop staying with me?”
“Did you kill someone?”
“No?”
“Then I think we can work through it.”
You giggle and lean back into him. He says such silly things with such confidence that he almost makes you believe it. Maybe one day you will.
“Oh shoot, your tea. I’ll be right back.”
The bed creaks under you as he gets up, the fireworks of overly-zealous celebrators with seemingly broken clocks lighting up his side profile pinks and purples through the window.
You stare at him and feel a warmth grow deep in your heart, an uncontrollable smile painted on your face. Chenle looks back at you with a confused smile, but you can see the same love in your heart in his eyes.
Yeah.
You also think that this is right. You don’t know if it’s for forever yet, but you sure hope it will be. That this year and the next and all the years until you’re both stars in the sky you two will be together. The fireworks will light up your faces when you’re both wrinkly and gray, wearing the same dorky grins you wear tonight.
You’re afraid, but you can feel that soon you’ll introduce a new side of yourself to Chenle. As he gets in the bed with you, looking out the window of your bedroom with his arm around your waist, the anxiety is the tiniest bit smaller than it was this morning. Slowly but surely, you know in your heart the day when you can show your heart bare to him will come and you’re not afraid
Maybe you’re afraid now but you know it’s only a matter of time before you free fall into his arms without a second thought. It's inevitable, you smile to yourself.
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a/n: STRESSING to post this before the new year lolz. also, i hope y'all know that reader was toned down SO much over the drafts. when i get overstimulated i start wanting ppl to die and it's never that serious...... i rly had to get rid of that quality when writing for reader LOLOLOL OK ENJOY REBLOG GIVE KUDOS ALL THAT STUFF THAT TUMBLR LIKES LOVE U ALL HOPE U HAVE THE BESTEST 2024
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usercupid · 10 months
Text
Mixed Signals
hi yall! i know i have a history of making fics then disappearing but i actually have plans into making this a series! i don’t know how long it’ll span but i’m thinking 3 or 4 chapters so stay tuned if u like the story! 🪷🤍 also srry the ending is rushed cause im tired and just want to finish this!
elliot x fem reader
lowercase on purpose
not proofread
2.3k words
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synopsis; you and elliot were best friends, and despite being flirtatious, there was never really anything going on between you two.. right?
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Chapter 1: History class
junior year was rough. the new schedule adjustments, not knowing anyone in this new school, and being smart enough to not completely fail but also not smart enough to effortlessly pass all weighed down on you. you could get by being alone, but it was never easy. that was up until you met elliot.
“elliot, we have to finish this history project.” you advised. of course, you didn’t actually mean we. you always ended up carrying the weight of the work whenever you worked with him. normally, doing all the work in a group project would drive you up the wall. but whenever you got around elliot, you felt as if his presence was enough. you never pushed for anything more from him.
he was also your first best-friend, and you were his. nothing could compare to the nights you spent on the phone with him, whether you were doing algebra homework, or trying to pick out a dress for your first party, he was always there.
elliot took a pull from the blunt you both were smoking and it became infinitely hard for you to not stare. “y/n,” elliot started as he exhaled the smoke, “we have more than 2 weeks to finish this. and all we really have to do is copy what we wrote in our notebooks onto the poster board! it can’t be that difficult angel”
there was that nickname again. he’s used it plenty of times before now, but its weight never faltered because it always made you weak in the knees.
“but still, i’d like to finish this now so we have time for ourselves later,” you sighed, and in an attempt to hide your flustered face, you began copying down your notes to your poster.
“time for ourselves? what do you have in mind?” elliot teased as a sly smile appeared on his face, taking another hit from the blunt.
he didn’t know if the weed was making him bolder, or if it was the way the light from his window perfectly dawned on your relaxed figure, but elliot began to admire your features.
you were so soft with him, never making him feel smaller than you. always taking his feelings into consideration and looking out for him. even now, where you seem uptight, elliot couldn’t help but admire.
he couldn’t pinpoint just exactly what about you in this moment was enticing him like never before, but regardless of what it was, he couldn’t stop staring. and unbeknownst to elliot, you sensed him eyeing you down.
“y’know if you keep looking at me like that, i won’t get any work done.” you giggled, looking up at him.
“well that would be just terrible” he mused as he got up from his seat on the floor and moved closer to you on the bed to pass you the joint. he then held the blunt up to your lips and as you inhaled, you looked up at him. his eyes were low, red, and they never seemed to leave yours. he was so close, you were able to feel the warmth radiating off his body, and somehow, you never felt more comfortable.
his cool fingertips had just barely grazed your lips but that single, electrifying touch left you longing for more of him, and it took every ounce of strength you had to not ask.
after what felt like a century (but was just 6 seconds), he removed the blunt from in between your lips and watched you inhale the smoke, then exhale slowly. everything you did was hypnotic to him, and he couldn’t get enough.
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the next day, you sat with jules and rue in the cafeteria. elliot decided to eat off campus for lunch, and you were glad that you hadn’t seen him all day yet. if you were being honest, you had been avoiding him all day.
you weren’t mad or upset at him by any means, but you just didn’t know what to say to him. i mean, what could you say? your relationship was always flirty, so why has it just hit you now?
“can i tell you guys something?” you blurted to your friends sitting across from you.
as you asked, you started to mindlessly scroll through you and elliot’s messages. you had never thought your feelings towards elliot were anything other than platonic up until a few weeks ago, and yesterday had only confirmed that you wanted him more than you’d like to admit.
“yeah sure, wassup?” rue asked, munching on her sandwich
“would you ever see me and elliot as.. you know,” you hesitated, “a thing? like together?”
“wait.. you guys aren’t ‘a thing?’” mocked jules. “i could've sworn you guys we’re together!?”
rue laughed to herself as she began to speak, “yeah i mean, you guys are always flirting with each other? i just assumed you guys were dating ‘nd just didn’t say.”
“you think so?” you questioned, fiddling with your well-manicured nails. you never saw anything between elliot and you until recently so there is no way that everyone else saw what you were so blind to.. right?
“yes, y/n, oh my god! i can’t believe you guys aren’t already dating!” jules exclaimed while giggling with rue. “i never want to hang out with the two of you alone because i feel like a third wheel!”
you were utterly surprised by the words that were coming out of your best friend's mouths. there was no way other people could see you guys together. there was no way they truly thought that.
you made a face as if all the gears in your head were turning, and in all honesty, they were. they were working their hardest as you started thinking that if everyone sees you both as a couple, that would have to mean he shows some sort of romantic feelings for you, right? he has to have looked at you in some way or said something to make everyone think you guys went out, right?!
“wait so you think he likes me too?” you excitedly asked.
“if his goo-goo eyes everytime you walk in weren’t a dead giveaway to how he feels, you should know he speaks about you every second of the day..” jules confessed, “whenever he starts telling me pointless ass stories about things you’ve guys have done together, i honestly just zone out.”
“how haven’t you noticed any of this? it’s so stupidly obvious, it’s not even funny” rue mumbled with a mouth full of food.
“i don’t know?! i just never thought of him — or us like that!” you said, laughing exasperatedly.
“probably ‘cause she’s in love too!” jules teasingly exclaimed. you knew she was joking, but for as long as you’ve known him, all you ever wanted to do was spend all day with him. he always showered you with attention and quality time. and even if he didn’t, you’d still drop everything to be with him. there was never any words or actions that needed to be spoken or done between the two of you in order for you to feel appreciated and loved.
loved. you would never bat an eye if you used that word to describe your relationship with him before.
“you guys should just get together,” rue said, crashing your train of thought as she gathered her stuff for her next class, “you're both ‘best friends’ already so nothing would have to change, right?”
you didn’t respond.
on one hand, it seemed like there was absolutely nothing to lose. apparently, he’s given multiple signs that he likes you so why not? why couldn’t you shake the feeling that everything would change?
“y/n, you don't have to make a decision right now, but remember that elliot would never do anything to make whatever you guys have going on weird. he genuinely cares,” jules reaffirmed, standing up from the table.
“thanks jules, but i honestly don’t think i’m gonna ‘make a decision.’ i just want to let things work themselves out so i don’t have to” you said, getting you things and going to your history class.
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walking into your class, you immediately sensed elliot was there, despite him being sat in the far back. you didn’t really know what to say after that night in his room, on top of the bombshell rue and jules had just dropped on you.
as you walked into the class, you tried to scan for an empty seat that wasn’t the seat next to him. normally, you’d sit there with no hesitation, but you hadn’t prepared yourself enough to have the conversation that so desperately needs to be held.
fuck. you thought as you saw there were no more empty seats, annoyance written on your face.
you made your way to the desk nexts his and tried your hardest to avoid any unnecessary eye contact.
skipping this class would’ve been easier than enduring 45 minutes next to someone you’re trying your hardest to steer clear of but some shit just can’t be helped.
as you sat down and the lesson began, everything seemed to be going well except for the watchful pair of eyes that followed your every move.
you felt them as you picked up your pencil to jot down notes, as you took a sip from your water bottle, to when you opened your phone. you felt your energy being snuffed by his piercing gaze.
“maybe if i just ignore him he’ll stop.” you hoped to yourself.
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15 minutes had gone by and he has not stopped once. you couldn’t figure out if he was doing it on purpose to make you freak out or if he was just that nosey but you finally had enough.
“don’t stare, it’s rude.” you seethed silently, looking at him for the first time since class started
“oh you decided you want to talk to me now? to what do i owe the honor” elliot haphazardly taunted.
“damn he noticed i was ignoring him” you thought to yourself.
“only ‘cause you’ve been staring at me for the past like, 15 minutes?”
“only ‘cause you’ve been ignoring me all day.”
“i haven’t been ignoring you?” lie 1.
“you haven’t?”
“no” lie 2.
“so why haven’t you said a word to me like, all day?”
“we just have nothing to speak about” lie 3.
“you sure? cause i heard something completely different from jules”
of course.
of course she was the reason you got caught in your lies. you internally laughed to yourself and left a mental note to never trust jules with anything even mildly important again.
but on the bright side, thank god he stopped interrogating you or else your conscience would’ve started eating you alive to feed all those lies you were spouting. i guess in an odd way, you’d be able to thank jules for saving your conscience. or maybe not.
“oh really?” you smirked “what did jules tell you then?” you couldn’t let your facade fall. you knew how to work your way out of shit, even if jules mucked up your oh-so-amazing plan.
“not much” elliot replied, “she just told me you had something to say to me”
you sighed to yourself. you could either keep playing this game of avoiding talking about your situation-ship, or come clean and possibly ruin what you both have.
you know that there’s a chance that he wants you back. but why ruin what you both have right now? it’s like when you’re doing your eyebrows and they’re absolutely perfect, but you keep plucking at them to make them even better, and before you know it, you end up over plucking and now have 2 uneven brows!
why ruin what’s already been so good to you? you’re both fine with what you were.
“well she was wrong,” you finally said. “do you have anything to say to me?” a tinge of hopefulness written in that question.
after a few seconds of silence, he replied,
“no.”
see, you knew you shouldn’t have pushed it. everything could’ve been gone in a matter of seconds.
“cool.” you uttered.
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you picked up a blackberry from the bowl of fruit you were snacking on and ate it while retelling maddy and cassie everything that happened in history yesterday.
“cool?” maddy repeated “why the fuck would you say cool y/n?”
“yeah you’re giving him mixed signals” cassie chimed in.
“i honestly didn’t know what else to say like, i knew if i said anything more, i could ruin 3 years worth of friendship.”
“yeah but by not saying anything you could’ve ruined 3 years worth of friendship” sighed cassie “if one day you guys were hotboxing in his room getting close, and the next you’re giving him the cold shoulder, what’s he supposed to think?”
“it’s not like he wanted to speak about it though so why should i be the one that has to?” you asked, popping a mango cube in your mouth.
“so you want him to come to you?” maddy questioned, “i’m confused why you’re even stuck over him anyway. if you’re not dating why is your relationship this stressful? take advantage of you’re stress-free, single life girl!”
“maybe you’re right about that, i mean, if we’re not together why am i even overthinking this?” you giggled, sitting up from your bed.
“no yeah, don’t stress over shit like this. if you want him to make the first move and he doesn’t, just stay friends and find someone else” maddy suggested.
just as maddy said that, a notification popped up on your phone.
elliot 🤍; do u want to come over tmr?
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chasedbyatlantic · 2 months
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when you wash your hair, joel miller
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summary: IN WHICH — you decide to surprise a sleeping joel after you've been working all day outside of jackson's walls, but it doesn't go as you plan.
warnings: gender neutral x joel miller, post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, mentions of you and joel in a relationship, sub!joel, joel has ptsd, joel almost hurts reader (doesn't tho so dw!), lots of fluff at the end, cute ending, lots of swearing, ellie being annoying as per usual LOL. lmk if there’s anything i missed <3
wordcount: 2.6k
a/n: hiiii this is my very first fic on tumblr! i have been obsessed w/ tlou for the LONGEST time now so why not start writing for my fav fictional mass murderer? anyway- hope u guys enjoy! i plan to post a ton more so stay tuned xoxo
You had just finished an ungodly long shift along the outskirts of Jackson, keeping everyone inside safe from- well, whatever lay outside (scary squirrels, mostly). It had been so different since you arrived, with Joel and Ellie. For starters, you weren't kept on edge every single second of every single day - Joel was, which you always got pissed at him for, since you two were more than safe inside these walls. There was also the fact that life had sort of just- resumed, after twenty years of fighting for your life. It was alright, though, a sense of normalcy was nice, even if it were to only last for a little while (you were hoping it lasted forever).
As soon as you were inside the gates of Jackson, you rode over to the stables in which your horse, Leo, was housed at. The big wooden doors were opened by a stable hand that looked no older than Ellie, maybe she knew who this was, you thought to yourself.
You had slid the kid a small "thank you." as they closed the door behind you, and you hopped off Leo. You reached in your bag and scrounged for a second, before pulling out an apple core, the remains of the apple you had eaten earlier. "Here boy," your hand raised towards the horse's snout with the leftovers in-palm, and he took it as if it were the best thing in the world.
Leo munched away while you swapped his bridle for a halter and lead, tugging him to his freshly-mucked stall. He had walked over to his water bucket and you moved with him, undoing his girth and removing his saddle. It was hoisted over your arm as you moved out and locked his stall. "Excuse me," You called over to the stable hand that had let you in as you put all of his tack on the stand in front, "Do you mind brushing him down for me? I've had a long day and gotta get home quick."
The kid nodded their head eagerly, which had earned a smile from you. You weren't lying about having a long day or needing to get home quick - besides, you had always stayed after your shifts, right now you were just craving to see your favourite person (and a warm bath too, you had guessed).
You had removed your gloves as you took one last glimpse at your boy before you left him to be taken care of by the stable hand. As you walked out of the stable, you were greeted with a nice breeze. It wasn't exactly winter yet, but it sure as hell wasn't summer. Autumn was close on finishing, which only meant the days were getting longer.
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It took you a mere twenty five minutes to walk back to the Miller residence. If you had a little pep in your step, it would've taken no longer than fifteen. But, being up since before sunrise has its cons. Anyway, it isn't your fault that Tommy and Maria (Joel's brother and new sister-in-law) placed you guys in the farthest house literally ever.
As you approached closer to the home, you could see the familiar little (she would kill you if she heard you describe her as little) girl. The girl took notice of you too, "Fucking finally!" Ellie had kicked up her skateboard, grabbing the tip of it, and came running over. "Jesus Christ, I thought you had got eaten by like- fucking bigfoot out there!", She seemed to be only half-joking.
"I was not eaten out there, Ellie." You sigh as you messed her hair up slightly with your hand, "Is Joel still out on patrol?" You had asked the girl. Her face dropped, earning an "ugh!" from her. "You two love birds are gross. You should care more about me than him! He's a frail, broken, old man while I'm a super cool, and totally awesome young person." You rolled your eyes, an automatic laugh escaping your lips. "Another half an hour out here, Elle. It's almost sundown- and please be careful, for fuck sakes. I don't want to be popping your kneecap back in place because of a fall off that- board."
You weren't Ellie's mom, and you didn't mean to take any place of a motherly figure in her life - it just, sort of happened. After what had happened in Salt Lake City a year ago, and you had fought for Ellie back alongside Joel, you couldn't help but grow so much more attached to her- you and Joel both. This is when your motherly instincts (you were never a mother, not before or during this apocalyptic world) kicked in. You both shared a special bond, one that would never be broken, despite the cruel world you both live in.
A small grunt and a "fine" escaped the girl's lips as she flips her board down and kicks off down the street. You shake your head with an almost disapproving look and walk down the rest of the block to your home. A small smile plays upon your lips as you approach the house with a mailbox at the bottom of the driveway that reads "MILLER". Your last name was not Miller, but you were in a relationship with a Miller, so that could maybe, in the slightest, count as your name too.
Your hand brushed past the rusted metal box as you walk up the paved drive way, you're excited to see Joel. Hell, it feels like it's been an eternity since you've seen that man - when in reality, it's only been since this morning. You climb up the wooden stairs at the front of your porch and remove your boots before entering the house - this saved horrid amounts of mud that would scatter in the small foyer of your home. Once your feet are out of your dirty boots, you silently enter the home.
The door was never locked, not when Joel knew you or Ellie weren't home. You didn't know why he kept it unlocked- maybe in case something had happened and you needed to get home fast, or in case you would lose your keys while out and about. It wasn't that big of a deal, though; nobody else lived in this part of the town (besides Tommy and Maria, who were distant neighbours).
It was dead silent when you entered, too eery for your liking. "Joel?" You called out as you shrugged off your autumn layers. No response. "Joel?" You call out once again, moving to where you had seen the light. You approached tip-toeing, starting to get a bit on edge. Joel was always there to greet you when you got home, unless he had patrol duty himself. As soon as you step foot in your living room, all of the previous worries you had melted away as you saw your favourite person curled up on the arm chair, sitting back and mouth open slightly. You wish you had a camera, god a polaroid of this would be amazing.
You approached him, quiet as ever, sliding the sleeves of your soft-knit sweater over ninety percent of your hands. You had brought your face closer to Joel's once you were close enough. The smell of his vanilla and rose scented shampoo had engulfed you. Joel said he hated it (in reality, he definitely did not), but if it made you love him a little more, he would wash his hair with it.
"You're perfect, you know that." You whisper to him, even though he was sound asleep. From the faded freckles over the bridge of his nose from being out in the sun too much this summer, to the small scars that littered his forehead from years of just surviving, he was perfect.
You breathed hushly as you moved your hands up to his face, to cup his cheeks. You thought it was perfect, for him to wake up to you (as if he didn't every morning) at this moment. You knew he missed you when he wasn't with you, he told you multiple times. This would be a nice thing to make his day slightly better, you had thought. Your fingers made soft contact with the flesh on his face - but, this is where it all went wrong.
Joel had shot up from the deep (well, you thought deep) sleep he was in and grabbed the hands that were touching his face. It hadn't registered to him that it was actually you who was touching his face, and not a clicker, or a raider, or anything else. Rage and a sense of fear filled his eyes as they shot opened, eyebrows furrowed as they looked around frantically - he was ready to fight.
A loud grunt and an "ow." escaped your lips once your hands were grabbed and yanked. It had happened within a blink of an eye. You weren't exactly in the mood for getting manhandled in this current moment, but here you were. "Joel- hey, hey, it's just me. You're okay." You spoke quick, trying to pry him off your hand.
It was now that his eyes had met yours, and it took him a moment (which felt like eternity) to process it was you. "Baby.." His grip immediately loosened and his eyes fell. He looked horrified, at himself rather than anything. "M'sorry." There was a tone in his voice that made him sound ashamed, like he had just broken bad news to someone he loved.
"Don't apologize to me, Jesus Christ." You spoke almost too fast and brought your hand to his face again, you felt bad for scaring him awake- your plan had massively backfired. It took Joel a minute before he melted into the touch of your hand in his cheek, something he will only do when it is only you and him around each other. "Shouldn't have been sleepin' while you weren't home." He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours.
Your heart ached, he shouldn't feel like this- fuck, you're so stupid for doing this you thought to yourself. "Don't apologize baby, hey-" You brought his focus to you, and only you, "-listen, you're alright, okay? We're safe here, you know. I'm safe, Ellie's safe, you're safe." You reassured the man in front of you. "If you want to sleep all day without a care in the world, you can do it."
Joel was being extremely vulnerable right now- and he knew that you sensed it. This part of him never came out, he was always the strong one in the relationship (not that you weren't, he just had that aura linked to him). Your finger rubbed back and forth over his cheek. "M'sorry for waking you from your nap- I was just too jealous of how peaceful you looked. All comfortable in your blue sweater.." your eyes started to trail down his body right in front of you, "-your sweatpants.." you snapped yourself out of the trance you had fallen in, your eyes reaching back up to Joel's.
He was just quiet, in his own thoughts. "Ya'know I love you." you told him. He looked like he snapped out of his own thoughts once you said this to him, the smallest smile known to man appearing on his face (it was genuine, though). "I know, darlin'." This was your cue, you reached forward and placed your lips onto Joel's. Now this, this was home- god, you could've had your lips on his all day for eternity. Joel melted into the kiss, and placed one of his hands on your thighs.
Things had got heated between the two of you within seconds, suddenly the positions were switched and you were straddling Joel on the armchair in your living room. It wasn't until you tore apart from his lips that it hit you. "Ellie’s going to be home soon, baby. We can't have her catching us like this- not again." You tell him as you catch your breath. His lips find your neck, he only hummed in response. After a moment of no proper response from him, you tap his shoulder, "Seriously, Joel!". He had grunted, basically forcing himself off of you. "So let her see us, not like she don't know 'bout it." He muttered, leaning back in the chair you two were in. "Oh, suddenly you're mister PDA?" You asked as you got up, stretching.
He said something under his breath that you couldn't catch, but chose not to pressure him about it. "But hey.." You grab his hand and help him up, "Maybe you could help me in the shower, hm? Let me borrow some o' that good smellin' shampoo ya' got? Wash my hair for me?” Your eyes met his, a smile completely lighting up your entire face. "I'on mind, doll. Maybe you could help me with a few things too," He reaches down, pressing a wet kiss onto your lips.
You take this as the perfect time to slip your fingers between his, and lead him up to the second floor of your large house. Even though you had completely scared the shit out of Joel earlier, and you thought you were a dead man for a split second, he forgave you. He always forgives you - this is why you love him.
Joel had promised you that he would always stay, no matter what had happened between you two. After years of being together, through your ups and your downs, through your serious arguments and your little scares (like this), he was yours. Joel was always yours, and you were always his.
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You two come laughing down the stairs, completely soaked from the shower you had taken together. Joel was back in the clothes he wore when you got home, and you were changed into one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts you had. He had his hand in yours as you lead him down the stairs. Before you could even step foot on the first floor, an "ew!" was yelled by a familiar voice.
"That is fucking disgusting- I cannot believe it! I can't leave you two together for more than thirty minutes before you turn into fucking rabbits. I may as well start thinking about names for the baby!" Ellie over exaggerates, acting completely disgusted from you and Joel holding hands.
Joel shoots Ellie a death glare as he drops his hand from yours momentarily, about to open his mouth before you interrupt. "Do I need to send you to your room, or something? You're so fucking crazy Elle!" You had let the little nick name slip out of your mouth, "You know I would never do anything unholy under the same roof as you." Well, you weren't lying. You and Joel never did it while Ellie was there, you didn't want anyone hearing what happened while you two were alone.
"Don't care, that's gross! Dinner is already made, I am GOING TO BED!" She had yelled as she was already half way up the stairs to her room on the second floor. Joel's hand snaked around your waist from behind as you tsk. "We got stuck with the most batshit crazy kid, I'm telling you."
Joel's hand tightens a smudge when you say that, "I love her though, and you I guess." He rests his head between the crook of your neck and slightly lets go once you add that. Even after the little bicker between the teenager, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.
Even though you were in the midst of an apocalypse, life couldn't have been anymore good to you. They gave you Joel, and you were content - more than content - with it.
when you wash your hair, matt maltese
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enhastolemyheart · 9 months
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BEAUTIFUL — PARK SUNGHOON
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pairing. non-idol!sunghoon x gn!reader
genre. est. relationship, college au, summer au
synopsis. with finals being over, all you wanted was your comfy boyfriend.
warning(s). profanity, reader and hoon are uni students , lowercase intended, use of petnames,
word count. 0.5k
a/n. I was watching some enha 'so so fun' clips on yt shorts and jus randomly thought of this idea saurr here it is!! it's been a while since I've posted, hasn't it? I've been saur busy with school like we have exams like almost every week but im still trying to keep up with my writing. I really hope this came out good, pls lmk!! taglist us open and so are requests! enjoy readingg
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finally.
school's over, and summer has started. finally.
you were walking home from the subway to your apartment, your comfy bed and pretty boyfriend waiting for you at your humble abode. sunhhoon wanted to stay over at your place after finals were done because now you have the time of your lives.
you head bobs to the music resonating in your over-the-head headphones, jazzy tunes playing. hands wrapped around your backpack strap. you and so many plans for the summer. first thing was to visit your family back in your hometown with sunghoon, and luckily enough, his parents only live a few streets away so you both planned to meet his parents as well, maybe even have a mini get together.
as you get into the elavator, excitement buzzed in your veins. the thought of finally having to spend some time with your boyfriend is something you wanted for a while now. studying in different universities was hard. he was majoring in science while you in buisness. due to having finals around the same time. you couldn't meet each other for more than two weeks. yeah of course, messaging and facetiming was a thing but being in your third year really put your head in the books for the last two months of the final semester. and now, you say that it payed off in the end, because here you are with a smile on your face, content with how the exam went.
you walk into your place with open arms, wanting to hug hoon as soon as you saw him, but to your knowledge he wasn't there. not in the living room, or the kitchen, or the bedroom. with a slight pout you turn to the bathroom to see if he was there and bingo, he was. looks like he just finished showering.
after he comes out, for some reason, he doesn't see you when he walks past you, into your shared bedroom, humming a random tune. you let out a small pout and follow in his footsteps.
"Hoon, I'm home. did you not see me?"
he gets lightly startled upon seeing you, "i thought you were coming late 'cause of your exam..."
"well, they let us out early," you reason as you watch him retrieve the hair dryer from the dresser, taking a seat on the floor in front of your full length mirror.
"how did the exam go, love?" he pulls you towards him, causing you to loose your footing, making you fall on top of him, your turned into a giggling mess and sunghoon couldnt help but also laugh, dimples making a display.
"it went really well. I'm happy."
"that's good to hear."
you hum as you take the electronic device in your hands, plugging it in and and getting comfortable on his lap. you dry his for him, brushing your fingers through his locks gently. he sighs in contentment before wrapping his arms around your waist more tightly pressing his chin to your chest before looking at you in the eyes.
"you're beautiful."
he always knew how to make your face go red. he loved see you in that shade.
"shut up hoon."
"thank you beautiful." he says after you finish blow drying his hair.
and you both spent the rest of the night, having some take out, maybe even a little it of making out, ending the chill night with some much needed cuddles.
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a/n - tysm for reading guys! i honestly dk what the point of this drabble is, I smth in my mind but it did not work out. I've been sick to the point where i couldn't walk properly, heh- anyways tyvm for reading and again, requests are open!
networks. @hyfenet
perm taglist: @jak-ey , @snoowhore , @hsgwrld , @seungiesluv , @1-800shutthefuckup
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cbsorgeartworks · 7 months
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The Dragon Mage's Study, 2023 72.5 hours // Photoshop My latest painting!! Commissions Open 🐊Follow me on Instagram! If you are interested in a print, email me cbsorge @ gmail and I'll let you know when I get that figured out. I am planning on selling prints. Thoughts, info, and WIP process shots below:
I started this last summer and only just now finished it!.
I kept careful track of time and logged 72.5 active work hours (not counting breaks etc) over 43 days. So I could have gotten this done much faster if I hadn't taken months long breaks from working on this. Unfortunately I love details and complexity. File time stamp beginning and end:
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While I have been working professionally for a long time, for various reasons I do not have a lot of up-to-date work to show for it. I am working on changing that with a new batch of art where I show off the skills I've built up over the years, going as hard as I can. I am hopefully going to be able to finish these faster from here on out. I have lots of plans - merch to sell, projects and series of work to make - so stay tuned!! I enjoy exploring a busy scene when the details all have thought put into them. With this piece I wanted to reward the viewer for looking closely, with details making sense in context. I also wanted to present a lot of "imagination fodder" for the audience to chew on. Unlike my Willy Wonka and the Candyman piece, which was sketched out roughly and only on one or two layers, this one was done meticulously and with dozens of separate layers for a cleaner finish, necessitating several clean drawing passes. I think it worked out well, I did much less re-painting. Process steps: 1) original sketch, 2) first pass drawing, 3)final pass drawing, 4) flats, 5) shading, 6) flats+shading combined for rough painting, 7) final painting. 75% of the work was just the final step, from rough to finished painting.
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Also for this piece I experimented with a color gamut mask. I wanted to exclude all warm colors (yellows, orange, red). They only show up on the mage's skin, a focal point. I think I ended up pushing some of the yellow-er greens into there too.
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Now on to the next one because I miss having painting to do every day. Yay art!!
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serpentthecrow · 1 year
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Queen of thieves
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Prologue: hidden or lost?
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The general sped through the halls, a few of his oprichniki on his heels. He was fuming while being informed they didn´t find her. Where could she be? He asked himself that question countless times that night, as if she were to appear out of thin air should he chant it enough.
He searched every corner of the Small palace, hell, even the Grand one, assuming the worst as a result of her absence. As his last hopes ran out with the information he just recieved, he began to reminiscence about his last memories with her, his daughter, his sun, his everything.
The way her hair flew in the wind while he teached her how to ride a horse. The excitment in her face when shadows enveloped her fingers like vines. The shine in her eyes when she got to play in the gardens with the younger Lantsov prince, despite the generals dissaproval of her afternoon company. And the exhaustion that her orbs held when she studied in the library for a long time, her small frame curled in one of the chairs that were placed there.
She was a smart child, his girl. Where her bones lacked in strenght, her inteligence was there to make up for it. She was barelly ten years of age but he was convinced she read a big part of the library, reading actively ever since she figured how to read in the age of four. She underestood difficult matters of science and politics.
Her underestanding and wit frightened him sometimes, he was scared that in her books she would find things he never wanted her to know. His past and all he´s done before she came into this world.
Little did he know, that was the reason for her dissapearance. She had already known who her father is, but her perfected mask of an oblivious child hadn´t let him know until she went missing. Her plan was coming along perfectly. As her scheme expected, he was distracted by the noblemen coming to the feast the king has gathered, allowing her to slip away into the night, guarded by her shadows.
Unnoticed, she would be long beyond the Fold when he ends his search. Unknown to him, she has boarded a boat, leaving her life and childhood behind as she stepped off the dock. Sailed to Ketterdam in two days time and followed her small map of the city, hiding in it´s most criminal part, the Barrel. Soon, she found a harbour, that she would sit at sometimes, facing the direction she was certain Ravka was in, thining about what she has done, and what could be, should be or would be if she did anything differently.
Her favourite sitting spot eventually changed her life more than she could have expected, for it was the same harbour where she a saw a sickly boy swimming to the shore, staying atop the water only thanks to the bloated, floating corpse underneath him. She had helped him then, taking him into the small room she has rented, giving him warm soup.
In return for the small help to the boy, he had build an empire for her, brick by brick they climbed the ranks of a gang that they could later call their own, while she built them a reputation as the deadliest people in Ketterdam.
They became the two sides of the same coin, unseparatable and unbent. Spite leading them through their journey, and fate sending them a pair of people that would become their friends, their crows.
Unbeknownst to her though, she would be reunited with her father, sooner than she expected. However, to be fair, she expected to see him again in the afterlife.
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The prologue is finished! This story as you can see, will include darkling x daughter!reader and platonic crows! x reader. The reader is completely badass like I promised and is also a shadow summoner. There will be gore and violence in the next chapters, so beware. There will be a lot of spoilers both for the books and the show. Stay tuned for the next part, that I will, again, write and apload as soon as I can. This is quite a big deal for me, as my first series, so I hope you will like it! Please also keep in mind that English is not my first language and that there might be occasional mistakes. Love you, proud of you, take care, hydrate and remember you are enough.
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bat-cat-reader · 8 months
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Article...
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Onward, Outlander
The creative team behind a worldwide phenom winds down their flagship series - while prepping a prequel and more spinoffs - even as the literary source material continues to evolve.
JENNIFER VINEYARD
As season seven approached, clouds appeared to be hanging over Outlander. But were they fluffy white clouds, or dark and stormy? Showrunner Matthew B. Roberts wasn't sure.
For a decade now, since the worldwide Starz series began production in Scotland in 2013, the producers have had a running joke heading into each season — that this season would finally be the easy one. They wouldn't be on the high seas anymore or traveling as much to different locations. They could shoot on standing sets, with the Fraser family's main characters settled on the Ridge, their home in Colonial America.
Much of the appeal of this genre-busting drama is that each season creates a whole new world. It has spanned continents and centuries, moving back in time from post–World War II Britain to eighteenth-century Scotland and France as well as the Caribbean and the early New World colonies, where the War for Independence is now dawning.
"There's always a big move," Roberts notes. "Each season ends up being more challenging than the one that came before."
Millions of viewers tune in to the show on multiple platforms — 6.3 million, on average, during season six — and some are devout readers of the source material. Diana Gabaldon's book series has sold more than 50 million copies worldwide.
As the TV fandom grew to staggering heights, driving a huge bump in pre-pandemic tourism to Scotland — the so-called Outlander effect — so did demand. For the producers, that meant continuing the faithfully adapted show as long as possible while also considering ways to expand into other series, creating an Outlander-verse.
This wasn't a stretch — Gabaldon's published series has produced its own spinoffs (some centering on supporting character Lord John Grey, who becomes a sleuth solving various mysteries). The author is already writing more side stories and prequels, including one that forms the basis of the first TV spinoff, Outlander: Blood of My Blood.
Hopes are high that Outlander will be to Starz what Game of Thrones has been to HBO and The Walking Dead has been to AMC, but going even further. The opportunity is there to spawn shows in a variety of genres: rip-roaring action-adventure, historical wartime drama, smart and sexy romance, supernatural sci-fi/fantasy, touching family saga. With time travel at the core of the narrative, the possibilities are endless.
But first, the producers had to figure out how — and when — to finish the flagship story. Season six, shot during the pandemic, faced obstacles beyond Covid: stormy weather in Scotland that turned the set of Fraser's Ridge (with Scotland subbing for North Carolina) into "Fraser's Fridge" and a pregnant leading lady (Caitríona Balfe), whose character, Claire Fraser, had passed her child-bearing years.
So the season had to be truncated, ending on the cliffhanger of Claire's arrest for murder. The remaining four of the planned twelve episodes would need to be reworked to launch season seven.
That was doable. The problem was structure — could the writers end the season with yet another cliffhanger, or was it time for a series finale? That's the cloud Roberts saw hanging over the show. "We didn't know for a very long time if it was going to be our last season," he says. "We had to plan it both ways."
Regardless of whether there would be a season eight, the first half of season seven would stay the same — the story arc had been planned as two halves, so the season could be split in two. (The first half will debut on June 16.)
Season seven was supersized to sixteen episodes, and its scope widened as the American Revolution's battles began to fill the screen. The story also drew from a larger swath of Gabaldon's Outlander book series: both book seven (An Echo in the Bone) and book eight (Written in My Own Heart's Blood).
The ending of the eighth book seemed a natural fit for a season or a series finale: after separate journeys across centuries and continents, the core characters — Claire; her husband, Jamie (Sam Heughan); their daughter, Brianna (Sophie Skelton); and her husband, Roger (Richard Rankin) — reunite at last on their eighteenth-century homestead.
"It's potentially a satisfying ending," executive producer Maril Davis says. It could work for what Roberts called Path A (if there were no season eight). But there was also a need for a Path B (in case there was a season eight), to open the door for new storylines. So the show's writers held off on scripting the back half of the season for as long as possible. When season eight got the green light, so did Path B.
"Thematically, it's still the same story, the same river," Roberts says. "We just go down a different tributary in the second half of the season, and then we come back to meet the main river. Jamie and Claire — their love story — is the main river, in terms of how life tries to tear their love apart. The different characters are the tributaries, and you always want to make sure they come back to the main river — that Jamie and Claire are part of those stories in some way."
One of the great confluences of these rivers in season seven is the love triangle of Claire, Jamie and Lord John Grey (David Berry). Both Claire and John love Jamie "desperately and passionately," Roberts says. "There are so many layers and dynamics between these three people, and this season it'll definitely come to a head. I think a lot of people will fall in love with John again."
For her part, Davis says, "I cannot wait for everyone to see David Berry's performance in season seven. He's outstanding. He just kills it in this role, especially this season. He's really stepped it up."
Perhaps his performance this season will help seal the deal on the long-gestating idea of a Lord John spinoff. "Just speaking for myself, I think the Lord John series is a no-brainer," Davis says. "I would love to see that series. The books are great, and he's such an interesting character."
But before that happens, fans will see the first spinoff, Outlander: Blood of My Blood. (The phrase is a reference to Jamie's wedding vow.) Unlike either the main Outlander series or the proposed Lord John spinoff, this ten- episode prequel is based on books that have yet to be published.
Gabaldon has been working on a prequel book series about the courtship and marriage of Jamie's parents, Brian Fraser and Ellen MacKenzie, during the 1715 Jacobite rebellion. She's released a few excerpts online — Brian and Ellen meeting for the first time, having sex for the first time — but the story is far from finished. Still, enough of their love story has been peppered across the Outlander books and TV series that a general outline has emerged.
Fans know that Brian is the out-of-wedlock son of a local lord and Ellen is the daughter of the clan chief. Her family would prefer an arranged marriage, for political or financial gain, but she chooses love instead and elopes with Brian. Their families do not approve, and much drama ensues.
"If you go in and parse those elements, a story blossoms," Roberts says. "And that's what we did, even though there is no actual book yet."
Why would a spinoff based on an unfinished book be greenlit ahead of one based on an already published series of best-selling novels? Because Outlander: Blood of My Blood — nicknamed BoMB — is a direct extension of the Outlander story.
"It is another enduring love story," Davis says. "It's taking us back to the beginnings, the origins of Outlander." And in its look, the prequel will evoke the early seasons of Outlander, when scenes were set at the MacKenzies' Castle Leoch and the Frasers' Lallybroch estate.
"When I go back and watch those early seasons, they're darker and grittier," Davis says. "They have different lighting. There's a different look to the buildings and the structures that we're really excited to go back to. It's a world we know well. It's easy to imagine how that would go."
It may be easy to imagine, but it won't be all that easy to return to those locations, thanks to that Outlander effect. Roberts sees the irony. "What's funny," he says, "is that when we started Outlander, back in the day, those places were kind of undiscovered. Now there are so many tourists going to go see Outlander locations, it's harder for us to get in there to film."
But the rest of Scotland is still available and at their service. In early seasons, the country played itself, but as the series continued, it stood in for Georgia, North Carolina, New York and other Colonial regions. With Blood of My Blood, Roberts says, "We can roll out our back door and find a location. It's Scotland for Scotland again."
With the help of an early writers' room, Roberts wrote a pilot script and a first-season overview to pitch the prequel to Starz. When season seven of Outlander entered postproduction, the full writers' room started breaking Blood of My Blood, overlapping with the writers breaking the eighth and final season of the main series.
"We were breaking both Blood of My Blood and Outlander season eight at the same time," Roberts recalls. As showrunner for both series, he wants to start filming them later this year (WGA strike permitting). "Check in with me in a year to see if I'm still breathing," he jokes.
Part of the challenge with season eight is that the mothership show has finally caught up with Gabaldon's books. "Twelve years ago, when we started, when we all sat together talking about this, we thought we'd never catch up with her," Roberts says. "Oddly enough, now we have." The author's ninth book, Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone, came out in 2021, but book ten, the saga's concluding installment, is still a long way away.
This is the Game of Thrones problem: how do you adapt the end of an epic that has yet to be written? How do you find a satisfying series finale without spoiling the author's narrative plan? Roberts definitely doesn't want to step on Gabaldon's toes. "We won't ever walk on what she does," he says.
At present, the plan for season eight is to pull elements from books seven, eight and nine (perhaps mostly nine). "We bounce around," Roberts says. "We've done that the whole arc of the show. The ending might not be what is in book nine, because as you finish book nine, you go, 'Oh, there's definitely way more story here.' That's why Diana is writing book ten. But we don't have that luxury. We have to finish before that, so we have to dovetail our stories in a way where you don't feel like, 'Oh, there's a whole other season coming.'"
Gabaldon, who is a consultant on the series, writes scenes out of order and has long known what the final book's epilogue will be. She's often teased that the mystery of Jamie's ghost — who appeared in Inverness in 1946, in the very first episode — will finally be solved in those pages. And she shared that possible ending (it's not set in stone) with the producers, who have a rare understanding of how the series has been backing into that moment the whole way.
"Early on in the process," Davis says, "she let me read the last two pages of her last book. I wish I could say we had met in a dark alley, both wearing disguises, but it was not quite as dramatic as that." And yet, even with that sneak peek, Davis, like every Outlander loyalist, still has questions. Those questions, too, appear like clouds hanging over the show — but with a billow and breeze, they'll likely part to reveal a rainbow.
The executive producers of Outlander are Matthew B. Roberts, Ronald D. Moore, Maril Davis, Toni Graphia, Luke Schelhaas, Andy Harries, Jim Kohlberg, Caitríona Balfe and Sam Heughan. The series is produced for Starz by Tall Ship Productions, Left Bank Pictures and Story Mining & Supply Company in association with Sony Pictures Television.
Outlander showrunner and executive producer Matthew B. Roberts is signed on to write Outlander: Blood of My Blood and will also serve as showrunner and executive producer of the prequel series. In addition to Roberts, Ronald D. Moore will executive produce, along with Maril Davis.
The interviews for this story were completed before the start of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes.
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sungbeam · 6 months
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𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋 — teaser!
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nonidol!kevin moon x f!reader
another summer break, another annual trip to the lake! except, it seems like when you and kev get there, you'll have to make some tweaks to the original rescue protocol.
▷ genre, teaser warnings. childhood friends 2 lovers, fluff, summer break au/college au, hurt/comfort, humor, implications of motherly meddling and matchmaking
▷ projected release date. october 10th/11th
▷ estimated word count. 20-26k
this is the sixth installment of the love in unity series! rescue protocol takes place after all the events of the main storyline, and you shouldn't need to read any prev fics to understand this one. any prev yns will be referred to as _!yn
a/n: i swear i'm (half) alive 🧍🏻‍♀️ but yeah, i've been punching out words lately and it's probably a bad idea to post this at the end of the weekend when no one will see it, but thank u again @justalildumpling for being my hypewoman ily
TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 500 WORDS)
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“It’s a warm morning out,” your mother murmured, then quickly added, “hey you.” She knocked her hand against your arm.
“Hm?” You asked as you finished up Alice’s braid and tied it off with the blue Cinnamoroll hair tie she’d chosen. You patted her back with your hand. “You’re done.”
Your little sister hopped to her feet. “Thanks!” She dashed away and out of the room—to where, you had no clue. You figured she knew where the food was if she was hungry.
You angled your body to squish your side against the couch cushions and face your mother. “What were you saying?”
“Ah, I was going to talk to you about the Joshua Hong boy.”
Joshua Hong. You didn’t realize you could hear a man’s name so often within twelve hours.
You made a gesture with your hand. “What about the Joshua Hong boy, Mom?”
“Well, isn’t he a handsome one?” She asked you enthusiastically, straightening. It was alarming how bright her face just got. “I spoke to his mom while Kevin and I were walking just now, and he’s only a few years older than you, you know.”
You heard a metaphorical record scratch. What? There was so much in that one sentence that you needed to unpack. You raised your hands to signal her to pause. “Wait, since when do you and Kevin take walks together?” What could they have been talking about? You knew Kevin was an exceptional conversationalist, but never in your time at the lake had you known of this interaction.
Your mother blinked. “Oh, we started the tradition when you didn’t come up with us that one year.”
“Tradition?” So this happened more than once? You didn’t know why you were so scandalized by this information—it was just Kevin after all. You knew your parents, and even your siblings, were all fond of him—of course they were. You were arguably even more fond of him, but that wasn’t the point. You hoped she hadn't said anything about you and him as an item at any point in time… you trusted that Kevin could handle that though; that was what the pact was for, after all.
“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” She arched a brow. “But anyway, yes, so we bumped into Josh’s mom on the last leg around the lake, and she mentioned that he’s majoring in chemistry and planning to go into medicine. You guys might have something in common."
You pursed your lips. Perhaps the two of you might have something to talk about, but your track was pre-veterinary rather than pre-med. There was probably a middle ground though... Maybe you were just being stubborn.
“Just make friends or something,” she said to you while standing up from the couch. “You need more of those.”
Your eyes shot wide open. “Hello? Mom?” Now that was simply uncalled for.
She chuckled impishly as she walked away and disappeared down the hall, leaving you to yourself. You were lucky neither of the twins were here to hear that burn.
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a/n: if i am being so fr i don't even really like the part i chose for this lol but i haven't written the juicy parts yet 🤕 so stay tuned pls ... haha
permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr
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awesomechocolatesauce · 3 months
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Astarion: "You know, I didn't care for you when we first met. But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all."
---
Did I replay this scene over and over to get screenshots? Perhaps.
This scene just... it's so important to me. He takes her to his grave, where his mortal life ended and his slavery began. Then, after he's truly free, he decides he wants to live again, so he carves another year into the tombstone and turns to his love and says "I love you. I want you. I want it all."
He's starting out this "new life" by making love to the person who was by his side since the day they met, even though he threatened her with a dagger to her throat (which is hot, don't come at me). And he's making love to her on top of the place that started his two hundred years of torment, so now he reclaimed it, as well as his bodily autonomy. Symbolic, and also...hot.
Honestly, as a full time console player, mods never really mattered to me. I'm one of those people who plays vanilla Skyrim and Sims and is perfectly content with my limitations...except for this scene. With the free cam mod, it shows him climbing on top of her while hooking her leg with his knee as he lays her down onto her back in a passionate kiss. Hey, Larian, WHY YOU GOTTA HIDE THAT?! Biggest crime! Jail!
I've seen some people say how "weird" it is to have sex on top of his grave, and I'm just like "Uh...why?" Compared to the other things you can do in this game (bear scene, the Emperor scene, Haarlep), this is far more normal. It's not like he's still buried there, or anyone else is, so it's fair game in my eyes. Also, you decided to romance a damn vampire! What exactly did you expect? A feather bed covered in rose petals? Nah, we're doing a graveyard smash!
I plan on posting more screenshots as I play through Act 3 on the intent of actually finishing this damn game, so stay tuned. 💕
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mythserene · 5 months
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From my Lewisohn post:
THE STORIES KEEP GETTING BIGGER: "And all those people had to die"
There is a story Lewisohn tells in “Tune In” about Ringo going home after the flood in Hamburg. His grandmother who raised him died on February 7, the flood was February 15th and 17th, and maybe most importantly, his contract was up.
"Ringo might have stayed, extending his two-month contract, but he took the opportunity to go home, because his beloved grandmother had died."
- Lewisohn, “Tune In” p. 577, (emphasis mine)
So he did not extend his contract. And when he got four different offers, one of them being to play at a US Army base in France, the pickiest eater on earth who has been dreaming of America his whole life chose the US Army base over going all the way back to ratty Hamburg to be in a band that was tanking and be yelled at in German.
"As it was, he’d gone home and picked up other offers, new adventures to explore, not old ones to repeat. While he’d had a great time in Hamburg and was very tempted to return, he said no. As Sheridan and Young stayed in St. Pauli more or less continuously from this point, year after year until later in the decade, Ringo’s instinctive decision was crucial to his future. Sheridan’s was just one of four offers Ringo received in the space of about three weeks. The second was to join Howie Casey and the Seniors on the road, and the third was the one he accepted—to rejoin the Hurricanes. It wasn’t so much that he craved their company or musicianship, though they were all still mates, it was what they were doing that interested him: they were off to France for a month or more, to play to the soldiers at a United States Army base.
“Only four months after Ringo reluctantly ended his Houston emigration plans, he’d be inside the little American enclaves that dotted the postwar European landscape, enjoying access to PX shops full of amazing American goods. And as it also happened that the Hurricanes’ return from France would lead into a third straight Butlin’s summer season, running from the start of June to early September, Ringo would be back with Rory another six months before considering his next move.
- Tune In, Ch. 26, “Us Against Them” p. 293
He hated it. His contract was up. So he left. Why does he need a flood to leave after his contract ended?
While in Liverpool he was offered another contract in Germany for one whole year, though April 1963. He turned it down and went to a US Army base in France.
You do not need an act of God to explain this decision.
But in the years since “Tune In” was published the way Lewisohn tells the story, if not the story itself, has grown to make it another example of the magic of fate. It’s big. It’s dramatic.
🪄 the new, improved, Magic Beatles Version 🪄
There was this moment in history where an act of God that killed more than 300 people might have proved a turning point on which the entire existence of The Beatles hung. But they were meant to be and “all those people had to die” for The Beatles to live.
(Since he’s probably going to sue my ass, this is an artist’s interpretation. He does say, “All those people had to die,” and in some places he sneaks in a hedge, but all-in-all my “for The Beatles to live” editorialization is wholly reasonable.)
The entirety as well as many of his direct statements are kind of shocking. Also kind of funny, but then also not. Because this is exactly why “Tune In” is so damn good. It’s dramatic and it is magical. It’s a magical story anyway, but the way he tells it is immersive and addictive. He tells it great, he really does. But my great-grandmother was the best storyteller I ever heard, and that’s because the woman would say things like, “I once cussed a man’s gun out of his hand” in her “true” stories. They were definitely true stories mythologized into genius tall tales–(a gift I rarely see today)–but sometimes when she finished we’d make a game of trying to guess which parts were stretched. And usually it was obvious, at least in some places. Because we knew she didn’t cuss a man’s gun out of his hand, but there was a well-known story about her facing down a rival moonshiner with a gun and walking away not only alive, but with more territory. And her family craved and cried for stories where the truth and the myth were brilliantly woven together. We wanted the element of folklore that made it magical. The wanted the repeatable lines. That’s what bonded us together as a family. What made us feel special.
And that is exactly what Lewisohn’s narratives of Beatles’ history do. The magic helps to bond us to The Beatles and to each other the way my grandmother’s stories bonded our family together. But the way my grandmother told the stories there was no mistaking the sparks and the crackle for verifiable facts.
It wasn’t dressed up in “historian” packaging.
THE FLOOD: LEWISOHN EVOLVED VERSION
The story now is this fate-interfering near-miss of The Beatles Not Happening. If not for this flood Ringo would not have left Hamburg after his contract ended and might have just stayed there and waited around for no reason until two months later in April when this new contract came up with the enticing offer of shackling himself to Hamburg for another year… instead of leaving Germany after his contract ended LIKE LITERALLY EVERY ONE ELSE DID. If not for the flood Ringo would have just hung around in Germany. We came so close to not having him in The Beatles because obvs, he would have hung around in Germany and not gone back home if not for that flood.
When you listen to this clip imagine the preeminent Civil War historian telling it. Or a serious WWI historian telling it with a few changes to make it about a crucial battle. Imagine if a historian told a story like this to say that a war would not have been won but for this act of God, and the facts supporting that sweeping statement were as thin, contradictory, and tangential as these. That “historian” would be a joke within 24 hours. A laughingstock. I’m sorry, but it is just so evidently true. This is tabloidish and unserious.
--
ML: …Arguably, had the flood not happened, he wouldn’t have been available for The Beatles.
CS: Yeah.
ML: So he would’ve still been there in the Top Ten Club. But, uh– or maybe moved to the Star Club by then.* But– He– It was because of the flood that he was available for The Beatles again.
[crosstalk]
CS: That’s another one of those Beatles stories, isn’t it?
ML: Yeah. And all those people had to die for that- for that to happen. It was over three-hundred.
*Why? Why would he have still been there if his contract was up? Why would he have stayed in Germany?
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kittyball23 · 4 months
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hi again!! can u make a lil AU fanfic where it takes place at the time after branch sees floyd in the diamond prison, and they feel very sad and miss each other after branch leaves, so they end up singing "teardrops on my guitar" by taylor swift about each other with a few lyric changes such as one to be "i laugh cause it's just so funny" and the name "drew" in the song is replaced with "branch" and "floyd"? oh, and the girl in the song can be referencing to poppy too. if you're busy with another fanfic, i understand! thank you <33
Hi! I finished this - and I apologize in advance if some of the changed lyrics are cringe 😅😬
Teardrops (a Trolls fanfic)
Despite Branch’s physical presence within the caterbus - his girlfriend by his side and Tiny Diamond at the wheel - it was his mind that was a grand distance away.
The situation couldn’t exactly be helped - he’d known this from the start. There wasn’t much he could do without the Family Harmony breaking the diamond imprisonment. And the plan hadn’t been thought of much aside from actually infiltrating the Rage Dome and reaching Floyd. This little fact had made itself obvious when they’d arrived and done little more than have a brief reunion.
But just because it had been brief didn’t mean that it hadn’t been meaningful. No, in fact, it very much was.
And the fact that it was is what brought the blue Troll to his troubled state. He couldn’t forget the way his brother’s face lit when he saw him, nor the warmth that blossomed within his own chest for his own joy at seeing him too. And Branch was very much delighted when Floyd had realized that he was a man and not a baby anymore, unlike their older brothers’ beliefs. But he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Floyd was the bro who had always known him best. Which is why he’d known that Branch would remain in grave danger should he have stayed behind.
Still though, hardly a minute’s time for a reunion was certainly not enough to make up for the twenty-plus years absence, and he missed him dearly.
So, as Tiny Diamond maneuvered Rhonda throughout the hallways of the Rage Dome and Poppy comforted the still teary-eyed Crimp, Branch comforted himself in the manner that Floyd had told him of years prior: by singing.
“Floyd looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see
That I want and I'm needing everything that we should be…”
__________________________________________
Naturally, Floyd missed Branch as well. He’d sang to himself quietly plenty of times before within the diamond imprisonment.
And so, tuning out his other brothers’ argumentative words, and Velvet and Veneer’s excited chatter as they made their way to the racecar that would bring them to the Rage Dome’s red carpet, he lamented a tune.
“I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about
And she's got everything that I have to live without…”
He hadn’t caught Branch’s companion’s name, but with the assumption that his little bro was now a man, the pink-haired Troll who’d come to assist in the rescue was likely his brother’s girlfriend. He wouldn’t know of how they’d met, but he did know that she probably had been by Branch’s side far longer than himself. A tinge of jealousy pricked at him - envy for the time she had gotten to know him as he was now - but Floyd cast it away to sing some more.
“Branch talks to me, and we find that we’re still so chummy
And I’m glad to see that he’s all I ever thought he’d be…”
Time had passed, it was true, but the magenta-haired Troll was delighted to find that Branch was still elated to see him. His brother was truly grown now, and it was something that filled Floyd with great pride.
__________________________________________
Branch, on the other hand, wished he could say the same for Floyd’s condition. His older brother was looking quite sickly within the imprisonment, oddly transparent and hair streaked with white.
“He said I had to go, but it just isn’t right,
I wonder if he knows I thought of him for many nights…”
He’d told his brother he wasn’t leaving without him, and yet he did. While it was apparent that there were no better options in the rush of the moment, it still wasn’t sitting well with Branch. Emotion poured into the last verse of his song as a result.
“He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do…”
When Branch was finished, letting the last notes linger off into the air, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. The song helped him feel a little better, but he wouldn’t feel true relief until he knew his brother was freed. He felt a hand pat him on his back, and looked up to see Poppy. She flashed him a gentle smile of reassurance, and he reciprocated along with a small nod, focusing back on the mission and what they had to do next. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but somehow and in some way he would ensure that Floyd - and the rest of their brothers that had been wrongly captured - would come out of this fix safe and sound.
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