#told my mom one of my friends is moving away n she pointed out that i only hang out w her n another person

[acircusfullofdemons]

MaDD will fuck up my life in ways I won't even realize like girl wdym you only have 2 friends 💀

#maladaptive daydreaming #madd pains #madd negativity #luka.txt #told my mom one of my friends is moving away n she pointed out that i only hang out w her n another person #theres some people at work i wanna ask to hang out w but idk #for some reason my brain keeps going ''but what if we're not close enough Work Friends to hang out'' #i guess i could start messaging them on Instagram?? since were mutuals there??? #why is making friends so hard n complicated. why is my brain like this. #maybe i can message those from my old college too... #idk it's so weird ive never really. had the desire for friends? if that makes sense ??? #like theyre nice dont get me wrong I love the ones i have #and idk if its the madd or other mental illness skewing it. but part of me is sort of fine being alone? #ive always been of the ''if it happens it happens'' mindset when it came to friend making. does that make sense. probably not!

[readychilledwine]

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

General Taglist:

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x yn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #discussingherewithoutyou

[janovavalen]

hi, can i request percy x fem!reader or just reader if you don’t write fem.

Basically percy is dating someone from the mortal world and she asks percy to attend these important dates for her because idk she’s in ballet or something and he misses it because he’s always doing quest with annabeth and the reader feels like he’s going to leave her. happy ending pls.

a/n: awhh omg yes ofc 😭!!

✧MISUNDERSTANDING || percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: up above!

word count: 3393 (bruh i was aiming for like 1k not MF 3K WHAT IS THISSS MY THUMB HURTS…and im tired ☹️)

warnings: a bit of hurt reader and percy, miss communication, fluff and comfort in the end

y/n breathed heavily and steadily she made sure her feet were pointed and flexed to perfection. her arms being outstretched perfectly and her fingers pointed towards the walls of the studio her teacher, miss.yana, instructed her to finally move.

‘now! close your feet!—‘y/n did just so. as she held them together, unmoving she breathed steadily through her nose, making sure not to flex her face that would cause the whole class to restart.

she didn’t particularly hate ballet, she loved it beyond measure. she loved it so much—it was her mother’s favorite thing to do when she was young and when she had a small incident that stopped her from doing ballet all together, y/n promised her at the age of nine that she would continue her love for ballet.

and now here she was, four years later still doing ballet with a small collection of good metals at home to make her mother proud.

‘open feet! close, open feet! close!’ the teacher shouted to the class. they all did just as she told with no hesitance and no mistake.

if there were any—from anyone. that person would be the punching bag until next week. luckily y/n has never had to experience that, she made sure she was always perfect for the class, teacher, herself and her mother.

‘rest…good job today class, you are now dismissed. julia! make sure you keep stretching i saw slight hesitation in your leg stretches, if you need it checked out please get that down before next month.’

next month just so happened to be one of their important plays that would be watched by one of the most popular and well paid ballet teachers of all time in new york. she would be watching the class y/n so happens to be in to see who is most fitted for her privet class, and y/n had to make sure she was picked, she had to.

as y/n rested and walked over to her duffle bag that held all of her supplies, her friend maxine walked up to her. she always wore pink leg warmers and her hair in one of the tighter buns y/n had ever seen before.

‘hey y/n! were you able to hang out tonight? me and rebecca were thinking we would do a small movie night at hers? we all get these cute little themed colored snacks and watch like, horror movies or something?’ maxine smiled down at y/n who gave a tight lip apologetic smile.

‘awh i’m sorry…maybe we can reschedule on it? i’m supposed to be meeting percy today’ y/n threw on her sweats and sweatshirt to match. her new shoes being simple brown boots and her hat on to cover her head from the windy weather outside.

maxine smile and awed—‘oh! you guys are so cute together in so jealous, i though you’d said he was studying abroad?’

yeah and by that she means some place far far away were humans can’t even enter.

‘yeah…but he’s visiting today and we were going to see that new movie in theaters’ y/n smiled at maxine who nodded her head with a warm smile.

‘awh! you two have fun okay? text me the details later!’ as she walked away y/n waved her goodbye and made her way to the opposite door. leading her way out of the studio and right into to the sidewalk of new york city.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when y/n got home she made herself known by yelling out to her parents—‘mom, dad! i’m home!’ she yelled. just then she quickly heard footsteps coming from the both of them as they smiled and hugged their daughter.

‘my sweet! how was practice? i’m so happy you got back safe i keep telling you dad here to get you a bike or a car! ah! was that nasty teacher mean to you today? huh?’ her mom rushed to her side as her dad gave her a shocked look at what she said about the car and bike.

‘you didn’t tell me—‘

‘shut up i did!’

‘nuh-uh!’

‘yes! yes (f/n) i told you a hundred times you were just always half asleep when i told you—‘

‘wh! well maybe if i weren’t half asleep i would have know—‘

‘okay guys! it’s okay i’m back! i don’t need a car but i will like a bike? and no she wasn’t mean today, i did pretty good’ y/n praised herself as she set down her bag which was quickly picked up by her dad who went to put it in her room.

‘awh that’s good to here, oh! and what about you and percy? huh? you told me you two were going out tonight is that still on?’

‘yes mom. i’m going to be leaving around five or six and back at nine like always, maybe he’ll stay, maybe he won’t.’ y/n shrugged as she was walked by her mom arm in arm.

‘well, i’ll cut fresh fruit just in case, now i know your tired so go take a nice bath! get ready for your date’ she sang while y/n felt her face warm.

‘mom! don’t say it like that’

‘well! i mean you’ve been together for how long now?’

‘two years—‘

‘two years! and you still get nervous! i still think it’s adorable don’t worry, im sure he does too’ she teased while y/n groaned and made her way to her room.

when she got there she immediately went to rush for her phone and unlocked it. her homescreen being her pet and lock being her and percy at the beach. she loved that picture so much, she’s probably posted it about a hundred times over and over on her photo dumps.

going into her contacts she was quick to text her boyfriend, percy. hoping she wasn’t interrupting him or anything.

‘hey percy! i just got back from practice. everything going well at camp?’ she texted. and almost immediately he responded.

‘hey! yeah, everything is good, i’m getting my things packed for movie night, i should be getting to you pretty soon. miss me?’ he teasingly sent making y/n turn off her phone for a second to smile with her hand over her mouth.

breathing out and unlocking it once more she texted him—‘of course i did, how could i not?’ he hearted her message and replied quickly.

‘well don’t worry i miss you just as much. i’ll see you soon okay?’ she heated his message as well and sent back a meme that he would always send her and closed off her phone.

deciding it was time to get ready she went to collect her bathroom things and started to get ready for her night.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

after about two hours of getting ready, listening to music and texting percy non stop, she finally saw it was time to leave the house. rushing to grab her purse and shoes she used down to the front door and made her goodbyes that consisted of hugs and kisses to and from her parents.

rushing out the front door, she signaled for a taxi which likely saw her and picked her up.

‘were to?’ he asked

‘the movie theater please’

as y/n said that and the taxi driver started to move, she texted percy that she was on his way which she was left with a ‘seen’.

strange…frowning her eyes bowed she kept the message open and waited for his response. he was usually really quick with this, never leaving her on seen nor delivered without a small warning beforehand of course.

‘hm…’ she mumbled.

‘we’re here!’ he told y/n who looked up from her phone in a hurry and looked to the side to see the movie theater.

‘oh, thank you’ paying him plus tip he smiled at her and said his bye which she did the same.

making her way out of the car and into the movies, she paid for the two tickets with the money percy sent her a few days prior, getting popcorn with her own money and some other snacks which was expensive as always.

looking down to see she was left on seen almost ten minutes ago, y/n double texted which she hated.

sending a small pic of the things she bought and the tickets that were next to the popcorn she held them all and walked to the movie room.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

sitting down into her seat she kept her focus on her phone, the big screen and the entrance of the movie room. hoping that one of the blondes that would walk in was her boyfriend who hopefully had a small explanation to leaving her hanging with the texts…twice!

sitting back as the room became dark she decided it was time to call him. he said he was on his way? and she didn’t mean to be obnoxious but she needed to know he was at least okay.

walking out of the room she called him…it rang. and rang…and rang.

then she heard his voice—‘hey!’

‘percy where are you—‘

‘this is percy and you’ve reached my voicemail box. if i didn’t pick up i’m either with my amazing girlfriend, slaying monsters or just sleeping, leave a message.’ scoffing a bit at his voicemail she spoke.

‘percy im at the movies and i just wanted to know if you were okay? or if you're on your way? the movie started and i'm going to be watching this amazing movie without you…call me back, please?’

hanging up and looking down at her phone and time she sighed and closed her eyes, ignoring the slight plained pit in her stomachs and heart she pushed it aside and walked back into the movie room.

sitting down and watching some of the movie she would occasionally look at her phone, the entrance. the screen. her phone, the entrance, the screen.

over, and over. until soon, without realizing it had been the end of the movie.

she still felt herself trapped in the endless loop she created for herself. her phone, the entrance and the screen.

soon enough she realized what she didn’t want to think was true, he wasn’t coming. he wasn’t showing up once again.

this happened five times in the last five months on each date that was planned every five months.

pressing her body against the seat, she sighed and placed her hands on her face. letting out a shaky breath, y/n picked up her things and made her way out of the theater.

walking until the sidewalk of new york, she felt her phone vibrate.

picking it up in a hurry she saw percy’s name flash across the screen—she answered.

‘percy—‘

‘n/n! listen im so so sorry! i—i lost track of time, i was set on a quest the second i was going to leave and i—‘

‘so what? the quests mean more than me? hanging with annabeth—‘

‘y/n please…don’t say that it’s not like that and you know it.’

‘well i sure feels like that percy! you stood me up! you left me alone again just like the picnic, the dinner, the fourth of july, my birthday!? percy…are your trying to tell me something—‘

‘no! y/n! no, it—no! stop what your thinking because it isn’t true okay? please—it isn't like that at all okay? i just….its—‘

‘explain to me percy…i’m listening.’ as y/n stood on the side of the building she felt her eyes well up with a bit of tears as her grip on her phone tightened. her purse being clutched by her side.

‘it’s….’

‘explain to me percy…please.’ she helplessly begged while holding the phone. on the other end, all she heard was a bit of noise and his breathing.

‘i—i can’t.’ he mumbled. scoffing y/n threw her head back slowly while rolling her shoulders. trying not to embarrass herself by crying in the middle of the sidewalk.

‘of course. bye percy.’

‘wait—‘ just as he said this she hung up and placed her phone in her purse. it vibrated, indicating someone was calling, seeing it might be her mom she looked and it was percy.

she didn’t pick up.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when she got home, y/n was met with a silent house. her parents were sleep and she was kind of happy with this. she could walk to her room with no trouble.

once she got their, she immediately broke down, her hands finding ways to her mouth to silence her cries, y/n shook her head a bit and bit her lip.

the pain in her chest grew and grew to which it felt like she couldn’t breath.

was this his way of breaking up with her? was this is plan all along since she and him had to split? this whole time he was in camp…he could’ve been talking to someone else. this whole time.

sighing and crying a bit more she wiped her tears and breathed heavily, a shaky breath as she made her way to her closet and picked her pajamas.

after taking off some of her makeup, and putting her hair in a more comfortable up-do. she placed her phone on the bedside table and turned to the wall, her widow being slightly open to show the moons shine from space.

feeling her body shake a bit from her cries she suddenly heard—tik.

quieting down, y/n stopped and waiting just to hear another—tik, tik—one became two and two became four.

sighing she sat up and looked at her slightly ajar window to see there were small rocks being down at her window.

what kind of drunk is doing this so late at night? and why her window? and why on this day as of right now.

groaning she sat up and grabbed her bat to make sure bod is was handing from her window. stepping slow and close to her window she saw curls then a face—with a black hoodie on. screaming she went to swing her bat but was stopped with—‘oh my god! stop! stop! it’s me!’

stopping her movements…she knew that voice. placing the bat down and aggressively taking off his hoddie she saw it was percy.

‘what—‘

‘i know i know, what are you doing here? why are you here? what do you want you pertinacious douchebag—i know but please? let me explain…please.’ he silently begged her as y/n firmly looked down at him. giving up as she saw his blue eyes, she placed down the bag completely and stepped beside it let him in.

once he was in he turned to her. y/n had her arms crossed and her face flat, filled and prominent with upset, hurt, anger and confusion. the slight previous look of tears in her puffy eyes made his heart sink.

‘oh y/n…i—‘

‘why did you ditch me all those months? huh? i asked you and i will keep asking…if you can’t give a reason at all and it’s related to your demigod duties i will respect that and leave it alone but please just tell me something? anything.’ y/n hopelessly looked up into percy eyes who looked down at eyes and sighed.

placing his hand on her arms that were folded she let then loosen as he pressed his body against her own, embracing her with the warmth of her preciously covered body and his naturally warm one. she melting into his hind immediately and tested up again.

‘is this you breaking up with me? i don’t get it i—‘

‘i was trying to clear up my schedule to make it to your play next month.’ he answered, finally.

pulling away immediately she looked into his sad eyes that watched her own as a small tear dropped.

‘what?’

‘you were telling me for six months now about how important and exited you were for this big play so i worked and worked on many of my quiets that were already ahead of me to make sure none of them interfere with your play. i want to make there so i can see you dance, i know i’ve been really…horrible with being a boyfriend and making it to our dates and im so so sorry, half of it was planned and half of it was pure coincidence on being caught in a quest…’

‘planned?’ she asked, eyes eyebrows turning up and he nodded.

‘yeah planned…i know how serious you and ballet are and i know your always stressed at being this perfect image for the world when in fact your always perfect and there isn’t anything that can’t make you ten times better than you already are. some of the dates i missed were meant to be missed like the picnic, and the ice skating rink and your birthday…i was there, you just couldn’t see me. and now that i think about it sounds creepy and weird—‘

‘yeah it dose’ she laughed as he smiled.

‘but i didn’t show up because i knew you needed the time to freely open up and relax. your picnic was what i made you, the food and stuff i made myself that’s why—‘

‘that’s why some of the things were blue…’ she recalled.

‘mhm…and your birthday?’

‘a ocean view with blue ribbons around the napkins and flowers…but why didn’t you tell me?’ she looked up in wonder.

‘it would ruin your surprise’ she shrugged while she tilted her head in a bit of confusion.

‘my surprise?’

picking up the bag that was set next to him that she failed to notice he handed it to her and she grinned up at him, a bit nervous he watched her open the blue bag. seeing another box, she opened it.

inside were his and her favorite blue colored ballet shoes. y/n smiled and picked them up immediately, placing the box and bag on her table, she looked at them and saw a small note inside.

in it was what said—

from here on out from all of my accomplished quested i have even granted a two year stay in new york with you, and for these two years i will stay by your side non stop to make up for my missed dates, and missed hugs and talks. your favorite — percy jackson.

looking up at him with teary eyes, she launched herself at him with her arms around his neck, y/n felt percy rub her back soothingly and she immediately spoke.

‘oh my god i’m so sorry! i was so mean to you over the phone and i almost hit you with a bat! and i wa thinking of doing it anyway seeing who you were oh my—im so sorry percy oh my gosh’ she squeezed him even tighter as percy laughed a bit and held her closer.

‘it’s okay! it’s okay! i would to the same, i hoped you did so you would forgive me then baby me back to health’ he revealed making y/n pull away and push him with a scoff.

he smiled at her and pulled her in by her hand, one of his other hands making their way to hold her face soothingly and pulling her in for a sweet kiss. he was always one for words and actions. smiling and melting into it y/n kissed back all until—

‘who’s in here! my baby—what!’ the two of them turned to see y/n’s mother and father holding bats only to immediately relax.

‘percy!’

‘hi mrs.l/n…hi mr.l/n’ he shamefully waved at the two who rolled their eyes and let out a relieved sigh.

‘my god—percy please. next time use the front door’ he dad groaned as he went to walk away and back to bed only to feel his wife want aorund. turning to see her staring at the two with an adored face painted on her she awed.

‘my babies! look at you—‘ just then she was picked up and taken out of the room by y/n’s dad—her husband—‘wait! i was just checking on them!’

‘they’re fine’ he replied.

y/n smiled and covered her face with embarrassment as percy looked down at her and smiled as well, grabbing her hands and pulling them away from her face he kissed her once more.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series

[ysrjune]

omgomg what abt like reader and sam monroe are really good friends and he like has a thing for her in high dchool but she moves away n they run into eachother in the future AND HE LOOKS LIKE ANAKIN NOW.

(shut the fuck up this is so cute but like sad to me. im gonna sob 💔) also im literally listening to 'into you' by ariana grande, so that's why that's the title, ahaha 😈

Into You ✦

Sam had been a really good friend of yours since sophomore year. You didn't hang out with the same people at all, though. Sam hung out with a couple of druggies and ‘freaks’ while you were paired with ‘normal’ people.

You became friends with Sam because you had the same p.e class with him. He was often left alone and in the corner after walking 2 daily laps. Some guys even made fun of him, but Sam would always ignore them. Even your own girlfriends would make fun of him! You always felt bad for that poor boy.

So, one day you left your friends after walking 2 laps and went to the corner that Sam was always at. He didn't notice you at first, but once he did, he looked nervous. Why was a girl going up to him? The worse scenarios were going through his head. Maybe someone dared you to do that thing were you go up to a random kid and ask them out and if they say yes, you laugh and explain it was a dare.

When you finally stood in front of him, he glanced up anxiously and looked back down, waiting for you to just get it over with. “Hi, Sam.” You sweetly greeted with that charming smile of yours. He only nodded his head to your greet.

“Look, I know you're probably scared im gonna say or do something mean, but please trust me when I say I wanna be your friend.” and sat next to him. He was stunned at what you had said. You were so pretty and had a bunch of friends. Why do you wanna be his?

Sam messed with the stud inside his lip, making his labret move from the outside. “Just cause you feel bad doesn't mean you have to be my friend.” He softly spoke. Yeah, that was the big part of it, but you also believed everyone should have a friend.

It's not like Sam was completely friendless, but he was left out in a lot of his classes that his friends weren't in, and you wanted to change that. “Sam, I wanna be your friend because I think there's more to you than what people think.” He finally looked at you but still kept an emotionless expression. “Yeah, okay.”

And from then on, you bothered him every simple day during pe. You made him walk with you, run the miles with you, literally participate im everything in that class. He acted annoyed at first (which really, he loved the attention), but as time went by, he came around.

Sometimes, you'd ditch your friends to go inside the hallways or classrooms to spend lunch with Sam. You two became so close that he let you meet his mom, dad, step-dad, and little brothers.. and boy, did they love you.

The point has been made. You're close friends. Junior year was the year his biological dad died, but you helped him through it all. Especially with his drug problem. Since the last week of sophomore year, he's had a crush on you. At first, he tried to brush it off, telling himself that it's never gonna happen and to just keep you as a friend. You were the only one who genuinely cared anyway.

Sam had dated some girl named Alyssa for a while, which you hated. She was such a dirty hoe.. there were rumors that she kissed Sam's dad and that she told Josh to lie about never having sex with her, but come on, no one really believes that.

You tried to be happy for Sam, and you were for a little bit until Alyssa had a cow over you being too close with Sam. As a girl who's experienced the same, you understood and stopped talking to him for a while. Only giving him smiles and waves when you'd see him around.

What you didn't know is that when you stopped talking to him, he was really mad at Alyssa. “Alyssa, I love you, but you have to understand that she's the only one who really cared for me before you. I can't just stop talking to her like that. If I never met her, I'd probably would have already been dead because of how fucked up on drugs I was.” But she clearly didn't care.

She was so damn jealous that she wasn't the one who helped him through all that. Not only was she mad over that, but she was upset that you were prettier. Inside and out. She was so toxic with Sam, and everyone knew. His friends told him to just break up with her, but he didn’t want to. That poor boy was too scared.

At the end of 11th grade, he finally broke up with her, though, even though it was quick. All he said was that he was unhappy, and she used him for attention and that it was over. She didn't get a say in it because he walked away right after. And who did he immediately go to? You. He craved you so bad.

You had a boyfriend now, and he was so pissed. That should have been him. He was just too scared to say anything. Always seeing you hugging and kissing all over him was gut-wrenching. That whole breakup was right when the bell rang after school, so he planned to go to his house to freshen up and talk to you.

He knocked on the door around 6 in the afternoon just in case you were eating dinner at 4-5. Your mom opened the door, greeting him with a big hug since she hasnt seen him in so long. Let's just say things were awkward at first between you two at first, but after explaining everything, it was fine.

You gushed to him about Jesus, your boyfriend. Talking about how sweet and handsome he is.. Sam acted happy for your sake, but ooh, he was so jealous.

Stuff went back to normal, and you two became close again really quick. Sam met Jesus, and it went pretty well. Even if Sam was jealous/mad, he saw that Jesus really liked you and seemed like a good guy. What relieved him even more was that Jesus didn't mind your friendship.

“Oh, yeah. I had a homie who was on drugs and stuff. He didn't have anyone to help him out like that, so it's chill that you helped him out like that. I'd never get mad over him wanting to hang out, you know?” Your boyfriend explained one time when he was over.

You lasted with Jesus for a couple of months until the last few weeks of school because you were going to an out of state college. Sam didn't know that was the reason, though. He just saw it as a chance to finally confess. You two were sitting in an empty classroom together at lunch.

“Sam, we need to talk.” You speak softly. “We are talking.” He replies, eating a chip. “No, like. I have something serious to tell you.” His heart dropped. Were you gonna drop him? Did he do something wrong?

“What is it..” You friend replies with an anxious look plastered on his face. “I'm moving after graduation. Like, to an out of state college.” One part of Sam was happy, and the other was devastated. He finally got you back, and now you're leaving?

“Oh, um,” He looked to the floor. “That's great. Uh—not in the sense that, like, I want you to leave, but, you know. It's great that you have this opportunity.” He tried his best not to cry but failed. You two spent the whole time crying to each other, saying how much you'll miss each other.

But you'll keep in touch.. right?

—

You and Sam were bawling by the end of it. He was probably even sadder because it's not like he can tell you he likes.. no. Loves you, because what's the point?

He went along with you to the air port, saying goodbye. Hugging you hard and placing a kiss on your head. “Have a good time, okay? Have fun.” Sam says, eyes all red and droopy.

You nod, kissing his cheek and leaving a faint mark. Before he knew it, you were on that plane and gone. You swore that you were gonna call and visit for the holidays, but guess what! You didn't.

Spring break? No. Thanksgiving? Christmas? His birthday? Nope. He tried calling one time, but the number was out of service. That was the last straw. He was so mad at you.

He got over it after a year or so, too. He pushed himself to be more social and actually go out. His appearance changed, too. No more eyeliner or dressing in dark clothing. He even dyed his hair brown.

—

He kinda forgot about you since even after your four years at college were up, you stayed. You forgot about him too. Your new friends kept you busy all the time, along with your job.

Your look didn't change as drastically as Sam's. Your style of clothing changed a little, and so did your attitude. Back then, you were such a goody two shoes. Now, you go out amd party and break the rules more often. Nothing totally illegal, but you get it.

You still talked to your parents every night. They asked so many times to come visit you because they're getting old (a little dramatic, but it was still true) so you finally said yes after 6 years of not seeing them.

Your cousin had picked you up from the airport, thrilled to see you. She was chatting it up and telling you about everything that has been going on since you left. Then it hit you. Sam Monroe, that emo boy you loved so much probably still lived here. Your cousin knew him back then, too, so maybe she knows what hes been up to.

“Oh, girl. He's like, a totally different person. Dyed his hair, became more talkative.. like, literally. A bunch of girls from high school like him cause they realized how handsome he is, I guess.” She keeps babbling on about him to you. He changed a lot, it seems. But there was no way you were gonna try and go look for him. You knew he was more than likely mad at you for not calling and visiting.

Your parents had invited a bunch of people over for a welcome home party. They were all in the backyard, though. So, you had time to get ready. Sam was left in your mind while you showered and got ready. How different could he really look?

After you get ready, you make your way to the backyard, greeting aunts and uncles, cousins, and family friends, but most importantly, your parents. You were smothered by your mom's kisses and practically crushed by your dads hugs. They missed their little girl.

You drank with your cousins and played party games while the older adults watched and laughed at you, losing almost every round, causing you to face the penalty and take a shot.

By the end of the night, you were so drunk. No memory of what happened that night when you woke up in the morning. Confused in your old room, you groan and whine. A headache was bothering you, and you felt super weak, but you remembered that your dad wanted you to go to the hardware store with him to pick up a few tools.

You knew he would offer to just let you stay and rest, but you haven't seen him in so long and wanted to spend as much time with him as you could. With another groan, you force yourself to get up and shower. You didn't even bother to put on makeup or do your hair.. not even to wear a cute outfit.

Sweats with a baggy t-shirt and a pair of slippers was your choice. Your mom gave you something quick to eat before leaving with dad. The store was close by, so the ride there wasn't too long. Dad asked about everything you did over where you live.

Ex boyfriends, the classes you took, and a lot of other things were talked about, even when you got off the car and entered the store. You talked his ear off while he was looking through the aisles. One thing about dad was that he's never at the hardware store just for what he actually needs.

Normally, he'd tell you to shut up with all your talking because, well.. you're a chatterbox. but this was an exception since he hasn't seen you for a long time. Half an hour passed by before he asked you to go get something for him in aisle 12.

You looked and looked around that aisle for what seemed like forever trying to find a specific tool dad asked for. A groan escapes your throat, and before you know it, you are asked a question by a worker.

“Need any help, ma’am?” His voice was soft and calm. You turned around to see a very tall, muscular man with tanned skin, brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He was very handsome. So handsome that he left you speechless, and it was sort of weirding him out.

“Ma’am.” He repeated himself, looking slightly uncomfortable. You knock out of your trance and visibly cringed at yourself. “Sorry, um. Yes, I need help.” You respond with a nervous tone. “Yeah? Okay, what do we need?”

“A shovel.” You reply, trying to avoid eye contact. The man laughed a little, shaking his head. “Well, this definitely isn't the aisle where you'll be finding those.” Great, now you look stupid. Did dad send you to the wrong one on accident? Who knows. You just felt really stupid.

“Come on, n/n, I'll show you.” He says and starts walking away. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that he had just called you your nickname. What the fuck? How does he know that? Wait.

No, there's no way. This guy looks nothing like the one you had in mind. “Here ya are.” He interrupts your thoughts. “Oh, thank you,” You squint to look at his name tag. It was him. “Sam.”

“Did it really take you that long to realize?” He snickered and set his hands on his hips. “But I guess I can't blame you, though, huh? I look nothing like I did when you left.” Of course, he had to add that last part. Now you were sure he was pissed about what happened.

“Yeah..” was all you replied while literally checking him out. he didn't mind it. He knew he was handsome. His confidence grew a lot while you were away. “So, anyway. I'd recommend this one.” He quickly changed the topic.

—

He talked to you for a little while in that same spot. About why you left and why you didn't call back—but he was so mature about it. He wasn't angry or sad.. he was just asking like if it was normal. He even walked you back to where your dad was at, and said hi.

It made you smile to hear him ask for your new number. “Just so you know, I'm taking you out tonight, and you can't say no. Pick you up at 8.” He smiles at you. You shake your head and smile again. “Okay, see you then.”

—

errrm part 2 when 🤔

tags, @heartsforanakin @sockiess @radiantvader @anakinstwinklebunny @lunalitva @lvrfay3 🎀

#hayden christensen #sam monroe #life as a house #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe smut #i love sam monroe #sam monroe fanfiction #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen star wars #anakin skywalker smut #rots anakin #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker

[rae-dabae]

VOID JOURNEY❤︎︎

( long post ahead‼️‼️)

Y’all……. A HOE DID IT!! I ENTERED THE VOID!!!! but i didn’t manifest anything :(((. So basically i don’t really even remember much from last night all i remember is falling asleep and seeing complete blackness. Now i’ve been to the void tons of times without know i’ve been there. @b4ddprincess realization void post OPENED MY FUCKING EYES and got me to realize what the void ACTUALLY was. That darkness you’re surrounded by when you fall asleep and you can’t move or speak or do anything else but literally exist. When i was like 10 i woke up in the void without and it was completely dark but i wasn’t scared n shit it was really REALLY fucking peaceful and i just kinda stayed there. I always thought that darkness was apart of the dream i was supposed to have but once i realized THAT was the void……..🤦🏾‍♀️. Now i went through a wee lil phase of looking for methods n trying them out n them not resonating with me at all. I was stressing myself out BUT I KNEW that the void was easy because I’ve literally been there tons of times. Doubts were eating me alive and really fucking with my confidence and making doubt if I’ve even actually entered the void(we literally enter the void every time we sleep so basically we always are in the void). After like 3-4 weeks of me repeating the same cycle of believing i can enter, not entering and repeating the same old story over n over again. I had enough and started to slowly pull away from obsessing over the void and I focused onward what i wanted. The entire point of me even entering was so that i could manifest ALL my desires at once. I decided to find something that I personally liked and believed i could succeed with. I like sleep methods the best because they’re the most relaxing for me. I like Sats/ Lullaby method but i every time i would try it i would think “ oh it didn’t work because i didn’t affirm long enough lemme try again” so i was secretly fucking myself up because i had made up this assumption if i didn’t affirm long enough I wouldn’t get in. There was one “method” that i likes the best and it was commanding/ ordering your subconscious to take you to the void. I decided to test it out to see if you can really manifest anything just by commanding your subconscious and GIRLLL….. it works. One sunday afternoon i was heavily dreading going to school and just was NOT feeling it, so i decided to test my subconscious and see if it could cancel school for me or just get me not to go without begging my parents or faking sick. I went “ Hey subconscious, im not feeling school tomorrow, cancel it for me” and after that i forgot about it. Later that night my school posts on instagram that someone threatened to BOMB OUR SCHOOL and tons of kids were protesting they cancel (being the piece of shit trashy stank ass school they are they didn’t cancel). All my friends were protesting not going cuz im not tryna get Bombed frl. I called my mom about it and she told me I didn’t have to go to school if i didn’t want to. Then I remembered what i told my subconscious and i went “ DAMNN subconscious i know i said i didn’t wanna go but BOMB THREATS??”( i don’t think I manifested the bomb threats because as much as i dread that place i would never even try doing that) that was the test that proved to me that subconscious really will do anything you tell it….insane. BACK TO LAST NIGHT ( i got distracted Srry) i commanded my subconscious before going to sleep to wake me up in the void but because of my loud ass african mother i couldn’t sleep so i waited until i felt tired and fell asleep. When i woke up i was still in my bedroom and i had thought i didn’t get in but then i tried remember if i dreamed last night and i didn’t remember having one. Actually i remember just being in complete darkness for a while then the rest is blurry. Then it hit me. I ENTEREDD. I know i had entered because it was the same feeling i got when i was 10 and entered. Anyways now i know how to enter and what works for me so STAY TUNED FOR A SUCCESS STORRYYY!!!( ill get into full detail and give some advice)

💕💕Bye my lovess!! 💕💕

#law of assumption #void #void state #void success #manifesation #neville goddard

[kiss-theggoat]

I’m back again! I’m a sucker for Thomas Hewitt okay, and there isn’t enough about him! I was wondering if you could do another fic about him, a childhood friend of Thomas’s who moved away comes back in town. She ends up staying with them while she is in town, unknowingly having interrupted their killing plans, leaving a victim down in the basement and unknown from reader. But when the family isn’t home (who knows why) victim escapes and attacks reader. Reader attacks back but ends up killing the victim on accident. In fear she hides the body but the guilt kills her and she ends up telling Thomas. (I know out of character stuff)

A/N: Thank you for the request, I really love writing for Thomas and hope you like! 🖤

Surprise!

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Summary: After years of being away from home, you finally decide to visit your hometown…only to see it’s been shut down. Only one family still lives there, and thankfully, you know them, and they offer to let you stay there! But…after a few days, you start to sense that something isn’t right.

TW: Canon-Typical Violence

The drive to Texas was long, but as you watched the dust and sagebrush go by, your chest swelled with excitement. You hadn’t been back in your hometown since your parents made you leave when you were younger, and now that you finally had your own car and your own money, the first thing on your list was to visit that sleepy little Texas town you’d missed since you left. The only issue was that as you kept driving…you noticed that all of the street signs leading to town were decrepit. You thought…well, you’d been gone a long time…just normal wear and tear under the Texas sun, right?

Wrong.

As you drove into town…you felt your chest tighten at the state of things. Almost every single building was boarded up, windows shattered and spray painted, signs on the ground and covered in dust. There was no way that anyone lived here, hell, the only stoplight in town didn’t even work…

Your car sputtered to a stop in front of what used to be your favorite little convenience store. Where you used to go inside and beg your mom to buy you all of the candy she said was off limits. The same store you got caught stealing a candy bar with your best friend and thought you both might get arrested by the sheriff. You slammed your car door shut, dust clouding around you in a plume of sadness in nostalgia. It was so quiet…not even a cricket…until you heard a siren.

How can an abandoned town have law enforcement? You raised a hand to block the relentless sunlight, turning to the source of the sound, where an old cop car rolled up beside you. The tint on the windows was definitely illegal, but thankfully, the sheriff slowly rolled it down, revealing his scowling face, eyes blocked by sunglasses.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in town?” He asked, lip stuffed with chew. His voice was gruff, but sounded so oddly familiar to you. You leaned in closer, eyes squinting in order to get a better look at him. You peered at the name badge…Hoyt. That didn’t sound familiar at all…but then he said your name. You continued to look at him in confusion as he pulled his sunglasses off, his eyes full of recognition. This man obviously knew you…but who was he?

He stepped out of the car and shut the door, leaning against it as he spit a puddle of black sludge onto the ground. “Well I’ll be damned. Thought I’d never see your pretty face again.”

“I’m sorry…it’s been a long time since I’ve been here and…the name Hoyt doesn’t ring any bells.” I told him, pointing at the nameplate on his chest.

“Oh this is a buddy’s uniform. Lost my own badge. The name Hewitt ring any bells? Charlie Hewitt.” He spit again, closer to your shoe this time, making you cringe and step away just a little. At first, you didn’t remember the name Hewitt either…until you remembered Thomas. The one boy in your class that never came to school, was always bullied or called names because of his face. Your eyes lit up as you made eye contact with him, a smile spreading onto your lips.

“Hewitt! Yes! I remember Thomas.” You said happily. If the Hewitt family was still here, then the town couldn’t be completely shut down, right?

This seemed to annoy Charlie in a way, his lip curling up into a sneer at the sound of Thomas’ name. “Course you remember that big oaf. Hard to miss ‘im.” He spat the rest of his chew onto the ground, wiping his lip with the back of his hand, “Where you plannin’ on stayin’?”

This made you sigh. You were hoping the little motel would still be open, but you’d just driven past it, and from the looks of it, its only residents were probably rats and roaches. “Well, actually…I probably have to drive back to Austin tonight. I didn’t know the town had…” you stopped talking, eyes landing on Charlie’s wrinkled face, not wanting to say anything rude about the hometown you shared.

“Gone under?” He broke out into a wheezy laugh, making it very clear to you that he’d probably been smoking like a chimney since you left. “Yeah. Not a lotta folks left. But Austin’s a long way and it’s gettin’ dark…not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be alone.” The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. You knew him…but he seemed …different. His eyes had a sinister glow to them, the way he stared down at your chest made you want to hop in your car and never come back. “Why don’t you come stay at the house? M’sure Luda Mae would love havin’ another girl around.” He took a step closer to you, eyes still focused where they shouldn’t be.

You spoke quickly, definitely quick enough to make your uneasiness known. “No, that’s okay…I really don’t mind driving back into the city.”

This seemed to amuse Charlie. “Oh, we insist. Tommy will be there…don’t think he’s seen someone like you in his whole life.”

For some reason, the mention of Thomas made you actually want to go. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your memories of Thomas, while very little, were only fond. He was a big kid for his age, and very misunderstood, but always very kind and quiet. And…he did say there would be another girl there, right? So you wouldn’t just be alone with this creep. Maybe going to visit the Hewitt’s would be a nice walk down memory lane.

“Okay…sure. It is getting pretty late, I guess.” You agreed, making him smile and show off his stained yellow teeth.

“Perfect. Just drive behind me.” He told you, opening the door to his cop car.

The drive to the Hewitt’s home was longer than you’d thought, and their house was huge. As you parked behind Charlie, you stared up at the house in awe, seeing every single window illuminated. You supposed that with the entire town pretty much out of commission, they owned whatever property they wanted. Your shoes crunched against the gravel as Charlie led you inside, and the moment he opened the door, a feeling of discomfort settled deep in your stomach.

The house was cozy, but eclectic. Too eclectic, like every item inside belonged to a different owner at some point in time. It smelled like a mixture of expired perfume and rotting meat, a sickeningly sweet film settling on your sweaty skin, making it hard to breath inside the home. You stuck a smile on your face anyways, not wanting to seem rude as you were led into the dining room. It seemed as though you were interrupting dinner, everyone already seated in front of their bowls, full of some sort of stew. Your presence immediately turned heads, all six eyes fixed on you and Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Well I don’t believe it…” The lady whispered, who you immediately recognized to be Luda Mae. God, she’d gotten old. You remember her being old when you were in elementary school, and part of you wondered how she was still alive. Across from her sat an elderly man, who somehow looked twenty years older than her. He was sitting there, eyes on you but unfocused, like he was staring at the air between you and the table. Last to meet your gaze was Thomas.

Your heart sank when you saw him, or what was exposed. The leather mask covering his face upset you beyond reason. You knew that Tommy had been bullied for his looks when you guys were little, but never thought he’d make a custom mask to wear, even around his family, and at dinner for god's sake. That’s when it occurred to you, he wasn’t even eating.

“Found ‘er down by the old gas station lookin’ for a place to stay. Ain't she pretty?” Charlie asked, his voice low and predatory as walked towards his seat at the head of the table. The way he spoke about you, like you were just a piece of meat, made your skin crawl.

You gave everyone a polite smile and a little wave before speaking. “Well, I expected the motel to still be open…really, I can find somewhere else to stay, I hate to impose if-“

“Oh don’t be silly!” Luda interrupted. “We’d love to have you. You’ve just gotten so pretty…hasn’t she Tommy?” Your eyes shot to a very flustered looking Thomas, his eyes fixed on his steaming bowl of stew, still untouched.

“Please dear, have a seat, you’re just in time for dinner.”

To be completely honest…you didn’t want to eat their dinner. Something about the house and their demeanor made you want to leave, but if there was one thing you learned about growing up in Texas, it was to accept the hospitality.

“Thank you, Luda Mae.” You said softly, accepting the seat beside Thomas. Charlie scooped a full ladle of soup into a bowl and set it in front of you. With clammy hands you grabbed the spoon, noticing that none of their silverware matched. The spoon you had was delicate, handle slim with swirled details adorning the shiny silver.

All of the Hewitt’s stared at you with prying eyes as you scooped yourself a bite. It contained a chunk of meat, a carrot, and an onion, along with the broth they soaked in.

The moment that stew touched your tongue, you knew something was wrong. The meat tasted off, way too gamey. You’d had your fair share of meats, different kinds of game and homemade foods made with hunting prizes but this…unlike anything you’d ever tasted. It was tender, and didn’t taste bad, but the unfamiliar taste tainted the whole soup, causing alarm bells to go off in your head.

You were soon distracted by the sounds of the family scarfing down their own dinner, spoons hitting porcelain and lips smacking. In no time, your bowl was empty, and so was everyone else’s…except for Thomas’. But, this seemed normal among dinner time as Luda Mae cleared the dishes without a word.

“Tommy. Show our guest to ‘er room for the night, would ya?”

The wooden chair screeched against the floor when Thomas stood. He just seemed to keep going…he towered over you. You craned your neck to stare at him, mouth open and eyes widening. You stood from your own chair, noticing how much larger he was than you. You stood at his chest, and he easily doubled you in width.

Without a word he started walking past you, and you figured he meant for you to follow, so you did. The more you explored the house, the less cozy it got, and by the time you made it to the guest room, it was plain and simple, just a bed with white sheets in the middle of an empty room. Thomas stood at the door, taking up the entire entrance.

“Thank you, Thomas.” You said quietly, giving him a small smile that made him turn away from you. “It’s really nice to see you.”

The longer you stared, the more you realized that he was still the same old Tommy. A gentle giant with pretty brown eyes that sucked you in until you didn’t want to look away.

Just as you were getting lost in your thoughts, Charlie shoved Thomas aside, holding your bag that you’d left in your car.

“‘Ere you go, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Charlie…” you said softly, grabbing the bag. That was nice of him, but you don’t remember giving him your car keys…

“My rooms just downstairs if you need anythin’.” Charlie sent you an uncomfortable wink, reminding you to lock your door tonight, and walked away. Thomas stood with his head down, still in the doorway.

“Uhm…goodnight, Thomas.” You said softly, a smile gracing your face again. This time, he looked at you. And you could’ve sworn that before you closed the door, his eyes crinkled, like he might’ve smiled too. You closer the door, and grumbled at the lack of a lock, finally getting ready for bed.

A shriek yanked you from your peaceful slumber, making you sit up straight in bed. Your heart was pounding, and you reached over to turn on the small bedside lamp. You were hoping it was just a nightmare, something you could just ignore and go back to the weirdly comfy mattress but the longer you sat there, the more you heard. Footsteps, whispering…but they sounded so frantic. Not like someone getting up for a glass of water or a midnight snack.

Slowly and hesitantly, you walked towards the door and pulled it open, bare feet finding every single splinter in the floor until you were finally in the hallway, staring down the stairs in the dark with wide, fearful eyes. Everything seemed fine…until a woman stumbled into your field of vision. She was bloody, open wounds on her back in an odd spot…did she just break into the house? She was near the front door and none of the Hewitt’s were with her. You stared at her, panicking, especially when you made eye contact.

Your blood went cold and you quickly backed up, barely hanging onto the banister.

“You have to help me, please! You have no idea what is going on here, we have to get out, you have to help me!” The girl started to ramble, but her voice was a whisper-like scream. Her bloodied hands hit the stairs and she began to crawl towards you.

You stared blankly, overcome by the fear and shock of seeing her inside the home…before you knew it, she made it to you. She gripped your ankle with a sticky hand, pulling you closer to the stairs. “Please!” She hissed, her eyes wide and crazed.

Instinctively, you tried to kick her hand away from you, pulling away. You felt your breathing speed up, panic overwhelming you. “Get off me!”

Her eyes flashed with realization, and she immediately recoiled. “You…you’re one of them…oh my god!” She wailed, voice full of dread and tears flowing down her cheeks. One of them? What did that even mean? This sorrow and dread only lasted a few seconds…before she turned to rage. Her face scrunched and it was like she’d been struck by lightning, body invigorated and suddenly strong enough to function. She stood and lunged at you, hands on your shoulders.

Your breath left your lungs as she slammed you against the wall, the back of your head aching in a way it never had before. In an attempt to get her off of you, you pushed her as hard as you could, feeling the slick blood on her shoulder and her neck where your hands hit her. Your eyes were closed tightly as you shoved, but it didn’t take vision to know what happened to her. Her body stumbled down the stairs, thumping all the way down, groans and grunts escaping her as she trailed blood all the way down.

You covered your mouth with your trembling hands…you’d just killed someone…you felt nauseous, you could feel your stomach turning as you stared at her body at the bottom of the stairs, laying limp. You prayed and prayed that she’d move, but she never did. A door slammed open from somewhere downstairs and that’s when you realized…

You’d just killed someone inside of someone else’s home. Tears rolled down your face and you slid down the wall to the ground, knees shaking and unable to support your weight anymore. Heavy footsteps approached the dead body at the bottom of the stairs…and Thomas came into your field of view. He stared nonchalantly at the woman, but turned to face you when he heard your sob.

“Thomas I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened…” you whispered, face bright red from crying and entire body shaking. Thomas stood still for a moment, but when he started moving, nothing could’ve stopped him. He knelt on the stairs in front of you, huge hand taking yours.

The warmth radiated through your fingers and up into your arms, making them feel less shaky and cold and traumatized. You stared up at Thomas, bleary eyes filled with tears, realizing that he wasn’t mad…or scared…he wanted to help you. Relief overwhelmed you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moving closer to him, arms wrapped around his broad waist, head buried against his chest. With your panicking, you barely noticed the fact he wore a button up and a leather apron, droplets of blood smearing against your cheek. You didn’t care. Thomas wrapped his tree trunk arms around you and held you against him…it was like nothing else mattered. Comfort washed over you and for a moment you felt like you hadn’t just killed a woman for no reason.

“S-she just attacked me, she jumped at me and grabbed me and she was yelling and-“

Thomas’ hand gently stroked your hair as if to shush you, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he held you as close as he could.

There was nothing that would stop him from being close to you. Not the three bodies in the basement, and definitely not the bitch that hopped off the hook.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt

[chloe-skywalker]

A Safe Feeling - Eric Coulter

Eric x fem!reader

Warnings: 

Word count: 1,402

Requested: Hi can you do a imagine where the reader is the daughter of Jeannie Matthew and she divergent and she in a relationship with eric and her best froend is four and later tris please and thank you - @rachelcarroll1819

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

Masterlist

Divergent Masterlist

******************************************************************

“Mathews!” Eric called out with a smirk as he saw Y/n exit the hallway near the dining hall.

“You know I have a first name.” Y/n turned around crossing her arms over her chest. Eric knew she hated her mom’s views and being called by her old last name. She’s not Erudite anymore.

Eric gave a nod as he walked over to her, standing in front of her. “Yeah, but that’s for more intimate-”

“Shut up.” Y/n giggled and slapped him on the bicep as Eric chuckled, moving his hands to her hips.

“Where are you off to?” Eric asked as Y/n moved her arms to wrap around his neck. Normally Eric didn’t like showing PDA, unless it was to show she was taken.

“Need to talk to Four about some stuff.” She answered, tilting her head. It wasn’t easy to have Four as a best friend and date Eric. But the two agreed to be sival for her sake.

“Divergent stuff?” Eric spoke quietly, so no one would hear around him. When she had first told him about being Divergent, Eric didn’t take it well at first but then he realized he didn’t care. He loves her anyway.

“Will you keep it down. You know it could get me killed.” Even though he was quite Y/n still was scared at any possibility of anyone knowing. Being Divergent is a death sentence.

Eric nodded as a sigh of apology, moving his right hand up and down her back to comfort her growing nerves. “Is it about the nightmares?”

Y/n nodded with a grimace. “They have to do with my fears and with what I am, he's the best to talk to about it. And he’s my friend.”

Eric rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek at his sight irritation. “Don’t remind me.”

“You're lucky I know what part of that you're referring to.” Y/n smirked, poking him in the chest.

“Oh, what part?” Eric played along, hoping to stall her a little longer.

“The Four part. He’s my best friend, has been since initiation and it bothers you like no other.” Y/n smirked a little, but in her defense she tried to hide it.

Eric shrugged. “I don’t like sharing.”

Y/n let out an amused soft laugh. “I’ve noticed.”

“You know I love you and I don’t care about the Divergent past, right?” He wanted to make sure she knew, he always made sure. Yeah he got annoyed that she’s friends with Four but her being Divergent? That doesn’t bother him.

y/n smiled. “I know. You always reassure me of that.”

Eric nodded. “And I’ll continue to.”

Y/n moved to leave his embrace, really needing to go see Four. “Love you.” 

Eric pulled her into a rough kiss before letting go of her waist and back. “Love ya too.”

“I’ll see you later.” Y/n smiled at him turning around and heading off to figure her nightmare, fear problem out.

^      ^      ^

After about an hour Four and Y/n sat down, joined by Tris.

“The only thing I can think of is that your fears are changing.” Four stated leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“But how can I have less fears then when we first came here? How can they change?” Y/n wondered out loud confused. Shouldn’t she have more over time not less?

“I don’t know, Y/n.” Four wished he could give her an explanation, but he had nothing.

“Maybe its Eric.” Tris said, jumping into the conversation.

“Huh?” Y/n turned to her younger friend with confusion and curiosity. Four looked to Tris with a furrowed expression.

“Well he’s protective of you. He’d kill for you, so what if the feeling of protection he gives you is making some of your fears go away.” Tris explained what she meant.

“She has a good point.” Four looked at Y/n.

“Well that’s a development.” Y/n let out an amused puff of air.

“Bad?” Tris tilted her head, looking at her friend trying to see how she was feeling about this new ‘development’ as she called it.

“No.” Y/n shook her head.

“He’s been worried. You should tell him.” Four stated. He may not get along with Eric but he could tell how worried he’s been over Y/n’s situation. Eric could hide it well but Four could still see it.

“Yeah.” Y/n spoke, grabbing her jacket before standing up and heading towards the door. “Yeah, I’m gonna do that. See ya both tomorrow.”

Once Y/n left Four and Tris she headed to the training room, knowing that Eric was training the intaties today. It wasn’t hard to find him once entering the big room. He stood out.

“Hey handsome.” Y/n said as she came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Hey sexy.” He smirked, and as he expected her reaction was to slap him on his arm. It caused him to chuckle.

“Stop it.” Y/n laughed at his behavior. Always so different with her then around anyone else. “Can we talk?”\

“Yeah,” Eric was trying not to be worried. He turned his focus back to the intimates. “Intaites! We’re done for the day. Get out.”

After that they both headed to their shared apartment. They’d been sharing a living space since a little after they finished initiation. Once inside Eric shut the door behind them for privacy.

“So did you and Four figure out what's going on?” he asked and Y/n could see some concern in his eyes.

y/n nodded and licked her lips. “Yeah, about that.”

“What?” He asked gruffly.

Y/n went over and sat on their couch, Eric followed suit. “My nightmares have been odd. Like you knew and we found a few things out.” Y/n took a deep breath before continuing, looking him in the eyes. “I have less fears now. That’s why I keep reliving some of them. My nightmares seem to be the fears I still have.”

“How's this happening? Is it a Divergent thing?” Eric didn’t know much about Divergent. No one really did know anything about Divergents since they were killed on spot after being found out.

“No it’s not a Divergent thing.” She laughed lightly. Y/n leaned in and pulled him into a kiss. When she pulled away she told him. “Its a you thing.”

“Me?” Eric raised his brows in disbelief.

“Yup. You.” Y/n nodded in confirmation of his question.

“Can you explain?” he asked, still very confused. How is he the cause?

“Trus has this theory and Four and I agree with it.” Y/n scooted closer, grabbing his hands in hers. Smiling shyly up at him. “We think I’m having less face because you make me feel safe.”

“That's the goal.” Eric smirked proudly. That was the goal, to protect her. Make her feel safe. And he was relieved that nothing serious was wrong with her. “So many fears have you lost exactly?”

Y/n laughed in amusement towards his reaction. “Cocky much?”

Eric pulled her by the hips to straddle his lap. “Hey, if I’m responsible…”

He two was amused, but this was because of different reasons.

“Thank you.” Y/n thanked her tattooed brute. With the look of confusion back in his eyes, she continued. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Not exactly. You couldn’t. But thanks anyway and for protecting me and making me feel safe in general.”

Eric placed a hand on the back of her head and stared directly in her eyes. “You're mine. No one will harm you on my watch.”

Y/n smiled brightly at his declaration. “Don’t tell my mom.”

Eric scoffed. “I don’t tell your mom shit.”

“That's one of the reasons I love you.” Y/n smirked, leaning her forehead against his.

Eric grabbed her, pulling her closer, holding her tighter in his grip as he kissed the column of her neck. “What are the other reasons?”

Y/n let out a moan as he continued to kiss and suck on her neck. “Well if we head over to the bedroom I could-”

“Done” Eric said, effictley cutting her off. He stood up and carried her to their bedroom. All the while Y/n laughed at his actions and looked forward to the night's activities.

Taglist: @padawancat97

#Eric coulter #eric #eric divergent #x reader #imagine #imagines #y/n #eric divergent x reader #dauntless #tobias eaton #Eric coulter x reader #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter imagines #eric divergent imagine #eric divergent imagines #divergent #divergent imagine #divergent imagines #four #tris

[rexlroze]

𝟏 — 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, no physical description of reader (other then their clothing), Swearing, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of bugs, Violence/Fighting, and mostly Fluff I think.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: This is my first time EVER writing a proper fanfic so if it sucks. Yeah. Idk- I tried my best tbh and hope y'all like it cuz if not, idk either. I'll be doing a tag list so if you want in, uh. Comment or sumn ig. Leave tips for me to improve in areas you think I need improvement! Also this isn't exactly canon to Earth-138. It's set in the early 2000s cuz no way am I writing for the fucking 1960s or whatever fuckin' year that mf comes from. I don't do requests nor do I plan on doing so. Happy Reading! 💛

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Recently, you just moved out of your parents house into a small cozy apartment in the North of London. About 200 miles away from your mummy and daddy dearest.

“No ma, I've already rented out my parlor. 'm not changing my mind at the last minute.” You grumbled into your phone as your mom hounded you with questions about literally everything. Your health, food, water, apartment and your new parlor.

Your new parlor, you were proud to say. You had finally rented out a small shop in Camden which was about a 10 minutes walk away from your apartment.

The only problem was that the area where your shop was grounded, it was in a small narrow area where people barely passed by and only a few residents lived and since you couldn't really afford a better place due to the flies that flew out of your wallet when you opened it and your limited budget, you just had to deal with it.

“Just know, if you ever need anything sweetie, me and your pops are always here.” Your mother reassured you sweetly but you could hear the concern trailing behind her voice.

“Yeah thanks, ma. Love you, and dad.”

“Love you too, sweets. But if you need anything like money, food or even—”

“Ma.” You cut her off abruptly.

“Yes?”

“I'll be fine, alright? I love you.”

“We love you too, sweetie.” She finally answered after a second of hesitation.

With that, you hung up the phone. Beeps punctuated the silence hanging in your room before you let out a deep sigh.

You sunk into your bed, looking up at the ceiling. As supportive your parents tried to be, they didn't really trust you with your career choices. The first time you told them you wanted to be a body piercer, they laughed and brushed it off… that was until they figured out you were being 100% serious.

You were grateful they didn't try to stop you, not directly at least because they never failed to mention and suggest a few other paths of careers. They got to the point of getting so desperate that they even suggested acting school but alas, you were as stubborn as a mule.

You got your license around 2 months ago. You can still remember yourself squealing and hopping around in your (old) room like a five year old who just got a puppy for Christmas. You couldn't wait to finally quit your side job (which was being a boring cashier with fake smiles and a faker kindness towards the karens that walked in and ruined your Monday mornings) and start your own little business in London. Your literal dream.

I'll get to work tomorrow. You thought to yourself since it was pretty much late afternoon now, turning the next 3 hours into a continuation of scrolling on your phone, listening to music on blast from the speakers sitting by your desk and knocking yourself out with some cheap bottle of booze that you bought during your ride to your apartment from the airport.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Making your way through the streets of Camden, you didn't fail to see the liveliness of it. People busy with their own lives, friends giggling, children skipping, couples holding hands, staring at one another with heart eyes. 

Something squeezed your heart at the sight of the adorable couple. It reminded you of what you could've had with him if he hadn't… but unfortunately, what life throws at you isn't really under your control no matter how much you wish it could be.

You brushed off the nostalgia quickly and turned a corner, finding your parlor that you had rented about a week ago. You were met by sudden silence. The streets were quiet and empty other then the two teenage boys who were giggling and had run away after when you arrived, disappearing into a narrow alleyway.

You walked to where they previously stood just to see a poster. Specifically a band poster that was vibrant with different colors. A lanky punk boy posed in the middle of the poster with a guitar slung over his shoulder accompanied by three other members.

You couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of said punk boy. Honey-coated eyes that shone back at you, the color complimenting his ebony complexion along with his puffy jet-black hair that were braided into wicks, jawline so sharp that it made you wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along them.

You shook your head, breaking the love trance you were stuck in. You didn't have time for dating, falling in love or whatever, not that you wanted to either. Your eyes zeroed on the big font at the bottom of the page.

“Spidersica, performing this 9th March at 9:30pm.” You read out loud to yourself. Almost 2 weeks away. Shrugging, you turn back to your shop. You'll decide what to do with that information on a later date.

You twisted the door knob that was attached to the black sleek door with the obscure glass window adorning it. The gold paint was scraping off the knob revealing the silver underneath. Besides that, when you turned the knob, the door didn't budge. You twisted it once more. Nothing. You pushed the door while twisting the knob the third time. Nothing again.

Slamming your body against the door in frustration, making the door burst open and you fall through it onto the cemented flooring. The bell atop the door chimed, swinging back and forth, mocking and taunting you.

Get the door fixed, you made a mental note as you pushed yourself up back onto your two feet. Running a hand over your T-shirt and straightening it.

You scanned the room, eyes roaming over the unused facility. Cobwebs decorating the corners of the roof, dust bunnies waving at you from the floor, old cream wallpaper peeling off the walls revealing the cemented wall beneath, the polluted air making you have a cough fit after you inhaled some dust accidentally.

Unshed tears pricked your eyes as your coughing fit wore off after a little while. “This could use some renovations,” you croaked out to no one in particular as you switched the light switch on.

The light bulb lit up producing a very bright light (brighter than normal) that illuminated the room. At least something works— your train of thought was cut off when the light bulb abruptly exploded.

“Just had to jinx it,” you grumbled, placing your hand onto your face.

You found your way to some curtains beside the door, pulled the long dirty brown pieces of linen apart, revealing a huge window that let the warm sunlight seep in and lighten the dark room. You slid the windows up to let the toxic air out and fresher air in. 

Get the curtains replaced. You noted down somewhere in your brain as you took in the hideous pattern of the curtains.

You walked around the shop, letting your hand trace the long wooden counter that extended from the wall. Dust collecting at your fingertips that you wiped off on your shirt.

Making your way through the shop, you found a recessed door that was fixed into the left wall on the opposite side of the parlor. You gently turned the door knob not wanting to repeat the incident that transpired a few minutes ago. It opened without a fight.

When you peeked your head in, you found yourself in a small closet room. Metal shelves up against both sides of the wall with various random and dirty objects decorating them. The closet was just as filthy as the rest of the shop.

You found boxes, some small, some large sitting at the other end of the closet. That must be the furniture! You think, making your way towards them.

As you pick up one of the boxes carefully, wrapping both arms around the box that was bigger than your own head. You suddenly yelped falling back on your butt, the box falling into your lap.

“Fuck no!” You screeched in horror as you saw a cockroach fly up in the air. “Nononononono.”

You dashed out the closet, almost tripping on your shoe laces that came undone who knows when, slamming the door shut so the pesky rodent wouldn't escape and terrorize the rest of your shop as well. “What the fuck!”

Mental note 3, get pest fucking control. So far, the day was not going as planned.

You released a deep breath pulling your phone out from your back pocket to check for damage. You've never been more grateful for the invention of phone cases in your life. You doubted your phone could bear another crack on it's already kinda-fucked-up screen.

Pocketing your phone once again, your hands rested on your hips. You stared at the floor trying to calm down. “Fuckin’ hell,” you murmured to yourself rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm.

You kicked off your left shoe and turned back to the closet, mentally preparing yourself for the battle your a lifetime.

—

After fighting for your life and clearing out your closet of any other unpleasantries that may surprise the living Christ out of you, you pulled out your phone and began typing in some to-dos into the notes app. Tile installment, cleaning, probably pipe replacement, a door fix, bulb and wiring replacement, paint, decoration and all that stuff with the budget of five fucking hundred pounds. Just yay.

You left the parlor with determination to accomplish your goal; renovate. You thought as you found your way through the door and back on the streets of Camden.

In a matter of a few hours, you had managed to hire a few mechanics and workers to, one, install marble floorings into the parlor, two, get any pipelines or such fixed, three, get all cracks and crevices in the walls plastered, four, fix the door lock, and fix, rewire and reinstall the lightbulb. All in the cost of four hundred and thirty pounds, and with the seventy pounds left, you could buy the paint, curtains, and other pleasantries as such.

Walking through the appliances stores, your phone on hand as you check off a few to-do boxes. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest to see how much you had done in the matter of a day. 

A small smile spread across your face as you made your way towards the next shop when a sudden boom behind you made you stop in your steps.

Screams fill the air but they're tuned out by the sudden high-pitched ringing in your ears. People passed by you running towards the exit and evacuating while you just stood there, unable to move for some reason when finally, your head snapped towards the chaos to see what everyone was running away from.

Green Goblin. You had seen him on the news whenever you scrolled on your phone for too long or when you scrolled through the TV channels and ended up on the news channel but never did you think you'd see him in real life but if the Green Goblin was here then…

Abruptly, the villainous individual who was flying abounding on his hoverboard and terrorizing everyone in the mall was knocked off by a swift kick. The one who delivered it was quick, you only saw the red and blues colors blurring together. Oh my fucking god, no way.

Slowly, the blurs of color started mashing together into an appropriate form. It's Spider-Punk. THE fucking Spider-Punk. And you were seeing him not through tv, but through your own goddamn eyes.

You watched as the Green Goblin regained his composure and lunged towards Spider-Punk. The two vigilantes participating in a violent game of tango while you stood there wide-eyed and stuck amidst the chaos sitting in the front seat.

It didn't take long for both vigilantes to notice your presence. All at once, a shout broke out from the red masked punk, “move!” when a broken piece of the wall was thrown right in your direction by the one and only Green Goblin. You saw the white's of Spider-Punk's mask widen.

Move. An inner voice in your head screamed. You couldn't. Move, goddamnit! Nothing. It felt as time had slowed down.

The stone piece inches away from your face, ready to smash your skull in when suddenly a silky white rope connected to your side and pulled you towards it. A hand wrapped around your waist and suddenly, now you're in the air.

Your heart thumped in your ears from the sheer amount of adrenaline and fear coursing through you as the two of you swung out the appliance store.

Your arms were subconsciously wrapped around his neck, your face was buried into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. You peeked your head up to see yourself high up in the air, and a glimpse of blurred green chasing the two of you.

You sucked in a shaky breath, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart pounded, like it was gonna erupt from your chest anytime soon.

You felt heavy air hitting your back when he abruptly turned a sharp corner and now you're sitting on a dumpster in an alleyway who knows where with a vigilante in front of you checking for any major injuries.

“You alrigh’, love?”

It took you a minute to register his words due to the daze but you finally managed to choke out a “I'm fine,” your voice was slightly breathless but you didn't focus on that right now instead, you focused on the individual in front of you. 

You quickly took in his wardrobe. A red spandex bodysuit, spiked mohawk, leather jacket, collar, spikes, nets, guitar, red boots, blue laces— blue laces? well damn…

“Aight, take a breather f'me, lovelie. ‘m gonna go deal w’him, ay? Take care!” He shouted, his voice fading as he ran towards the exit of the alley and swung away before you could manage another response.

…

What the fuck just happened?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You slowly recovered from the incident that happened just three days ago. An hour long face call with your parents who had seen you on the news swinging around in the arms of Spider-Punk. You lost count after sixteen of just how many times your parents had asked you if you were okay.

You had paid off the workers to get the job done while you were away, now you could only hope they hadn't robbed you and were currently flying to another state with your money.

You didn't have much left to do from your to-do list. The only thing you needed was some paint and furniture. You had ordered the paint (and paid) online, it would be at the door of your parlor in about a few hours. Or at least that's what the notification you gotten had said.

As you were currently laying in bed clicking away on your computer and chewing on the back of a pencil you randomly found in your backpack and an orange sofa that you found in your fridge, something ringed in your head.

Right!

The concert, you were supposed to look into it when you got home. Unfortunately, it had pretty much slipped your mind due to your little experience about a day ago.

You clicked away, opening a new tab, “Spi…der…si…ca… baa…nnd.” You pronounced each syllable carefully while you typed away.

Pushing down the enter button, you were met by a white loading screen that led you to another google page. You clicked the first link and found yourself on another website.

“A popular punk band in london with the following members: Karl Morningdew, the bass Guitarist, Riri Williams, the keyboardist and Mattea Murdock, the drumist followed by their BandLeader, Hobart Brown, the guitarist—” Your voice slowly faded out as you saw the image of a familiar punk boy pop up that you had gotten lost in just a few days ago outside of your parlor. “Huh.”

You scrolled through the website until your eyes settled onto the information you were looking for, “Spidersica, publicly performing on the 9th of March.” The information was followed by the location and other necessary details.

“Eh, screw it. I gotta socialize anyway,” you blurted out, clicking off the tab.

—

After finishing another can of soda, you finally had gotten ready to go back out after locking yourself in your house for the past forty-eight hours. Patting the pockets of your jeans to make sure you had your phone and keys in them, you escorted yourself through the door of your apartment.

You soon find yourself making your way down the three quarter turn stairs and back on the roads looking up in the sky for a particular rebellious masked vigilante.

You didn't know what for, maybe to thank him. Or maybe just curiosity at its finest. You shrugged the thoughts off and continued making your way to the parlor. You didn't have time for a cat and mouse chase where the mouse doesn't even know he's being chased.

After all, you were no one special. Just a normal everyday civilian whom his job was to protect.

Finally arriving at your parlor, it looked a lot less abandoned than it did when you arrived three days ago, the front door opening with ease when you pushed the keys in and twisted the knob which was also replaced. You could tell due to the shining new gold color coating it.

Polished white marble tiles installed in the once cemented flooring. The crevices in the walls were filled out along with the old cream wallpaper removed. An air conditioner was fixed into the wall above the recessed door, a fixed bulb and working electricity.

Those were some major improvements but that didn't change the fact the place was still filthy as fuck.

You sighed and grabbed a broom that rested in the corner of the closet, pulling your headphones over your head and began sweeping away.

—

After you finished sweeping, you decide to install the new curtains you had bought. They were a dark marengo made of a silky smooth material. As you tried to push the curtains into the metal pole, the bell aloft the door began chiming signifying somebody had arrived, when you turned the door, you were met by a man who stood in a blue-ish uniform, a clipboard in his hand while he tapped the back of a pen on it.

“Uh hello, delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That would be me.”

“Oh, please just sign here.” He turned the clipboard around to face you, offering you the ballpoint he had.

You walked over, taking the pen from his hand and signed the piece of paper where he had told you to.

He put the clipboard away, taking the pen back from you as he stepped out and came back in with a large box placing it down onto the tile flooring. “G’day, madam.”

He politely bowed his head while you let out a small “thank you” after he tilted his head back up and walked back out the parlor.

You picked up the box that was immensely heavy, probably because of the damn paint cans in them, Sherlock, you had just assumed they most likely were the paints you ordered.

When you turned away, placing the box onto the counter, suddenly the bell chimed once again. You spoke without looking up, “did you forget something, Mr.mailman?”

“Mailman? Hardly.” A familiar angelic voice spoke, making you freeze, Spider-Punk—? You thought as you turned to the voice with wide eyes, but to your surprise. It was someone completely different.

“You good, love? You look like you just seen a ghost.” Honey-coated eyes, ebony complexion, jet-black hair, sharp jawline, is that-?

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “are you Hobart Brown?” your voice was a higher pitch than usual but you couldn't help it. “Oh my god, what are you doing here—” you were abruptly cut off by him.

“Okay okay, I'm gonna cut you off right there, love, first of all. Just call me Hobie. Please.” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face, “and well, second of all, I heard you did piercings, hm?”

“Oh. Uh… okay then, Hobie. Yes. Yeah, I do piercings, why?” Well, that's a stupid question.

“I was wondering if you could do mine, because as you can see, my face is pretty clean.” He smiles softly, pointing to his face that didn't bear any piercings… yet.

“Oh yeah, um. I'm not really open yet—” you cut yourself off at a sudden realization. “Wait, how'd you find me?” You raised an eyebrow, you only remember telling everyone in your circle about the parlor yet.

“Oh, one of my friends told me.”

You raised your eyebrow higher, confusion bubbling in you. “Can I know their name?”

“Yuri.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Yuri? As in your goddamn BEST FRIEND Yuri?

“Yuri Watanabe?” You asked, expecting a no.

"You know her?"

Of course I know my damn best friend, dumbass! That's what you wanted to say, but instead you held your tongue.

“Well yeah, she's my best friend. We met at a bar back in York.” You didn't know why you were telling him, you didn't even know if you could trust him. After all, he was just a random stranger— sure he was famous or whatever but you still just found out about him like three days ago.

“Huh, I don't think she's mentioned you but nice to meet you, er…?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too, Hoba- Hobie.” You quickly corrected your small error.

“Y/N.” He looked like he was trying to remember something from a long time ago. Suddenly his eyes lit up, “oh yeah, she has mentioned you a couple times if I think about it.” He gave you a polite smile, “Do you need help? with whatever you're doing?”

“What?”

“I said do you want help?” He repeated, “seems like you could use some.” He observed, eyes roaming around your unfinished parlor.

“Do… are you looking for something in return?” You were confused by his sudden offer. He had to be wanting something in return, right? I mean, he learned your name like JUST a minute ago.

“Nah, just wanna help you out. Plus, you could prolly use some company, ay?”

“I mean… wait, why would you wanna do that? Aren't you busy with things like… practice or something.”

“Do you want help or not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” You answered with a small voice, biting down on your lip gently.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥����𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @hobieszeze @missshelleyduvall

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

#A Piercing for the Heart #A Piercing for the Heart Series #A Piercing for the Heart Chapter 1 #hobie brown #atsv hobie #across the spiderverse #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x body piercer! reader #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk x you #spiderpunk x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #my first fic #series #rexlroze #rexlpost #x reader #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #hobie atsv

[jenna0rtega27]

I was thinking of G!p Jenna Ortega x female reader, where they think they are home alone and while having sex Jennas mom walks in on them. After they are done Jenna and reader awkwardly go down to the kitchen and Jennas mom says she hopes they used protection. Jenna goes red, looks down and her mom starts yelling about having kids and all. Thanks

Never to be done again

Masterlist

Thank you for asking 18+ Jenna x F!reader Summary: Request Warning: Jenna g!p, some smut at the beginning, Unprotected sex (Thank you so much for your requests and your likes. It really motivates me to continue sharing lots of stories about our Jenna with you. I love you guys).Number of words : 1441

Part 2

Pov Jenna: “~Aaah yes~ keep it up baby. » I'm at my mother's house and my mother went to pick up Aliyah from a friend's house. And they go shopping. And the rest of my siblings aren't home. So me and my beautiful girlfriend are enjoying the peace and quiet at home.

Y/n is lying on the bed with her head on the cushions and I am on top of her. My arms are placed on the bed at both ends of Y/n's head to support myself.

I thrust into her making her moan. My favorite sound since I became a couple with this wonderful person. Y/n has her arms wrapped around my neck and pulls me closer to her. She kisses me. My tongue asks for access into her mouth and she accepts. Our tongues move in circles and I press our lips back together. I keep sinking into my lip.

We've been fucking for 30 minutes now. We managed to do 3 laps. And honestly it's weird that my mom takes so much time. But no one is going to complain about it.

Now it’s Y/n on top of me and I’m lying on the bed. Y/n sits on my thighs facing me and jumps on my cock. I put my hands on his thighs to help him move. I moaned at the sight of my penis moving in and out of her dripping pussy.

“You look so good in…”

“Jenna…” My mother comes into my room. I open my eyes wide like Y/n who immediately stops jumping on me.

“JENNA MARIE ORTEGA!” How many times have I told you not to make love in my house! »

My mother yells at me. Luckily, my bed is in front of the door, so my mom can't see my girlfriend's tits since her back is to her.

“And how many times have I told you to knock before entering my room! Now get out of my room. Let's get dressed! » I shout back.

“Fine but you better not do that again.” » said my mother, pointing at us.

My dear mother comes out of my room and closes the door. My girlfriend gets off of me and starts to get dressed and I do as she does. His silence makes me really anxious. I hope my mother didn't ruin our relationship.

“I’m really sorry about my mother. I swear I didn't know she was back. » I say as guilt invades my whole body.

Y/n looks at me and a smile appears on her face that makes me sigh in relief at not seeing her angry. She steps forward and takes my face in her hands.

“Baby, it’s no big deal. I knew this was going to happen to us one day or another. We make love all the time when we're at your parents' house. Plus I find it funny. » Y/n says as a laugh leaves her lips. I laugh with her.

" I love you my dear. I said lovingly as I wrapped my arms around his neck and scratched his head with my nails.

" I love you too. » Y/n replies with a lot of love too and wrapping her arms around my waist. I stand on tiptoes and place my lips on his. The kiss quickly becomes passionate.

“Jenna Ortega the conversation is not over, leave this room immediately. And Y/n you’re coming too! » said my mother from behind my bedroom door.

I stop the kiss and pull away from Y/n.

"Come on, let's go face the angry monster." » I say laughing at my choice of words. But Y/n doesn’t laugh. She is terrified and I can tell you that I am too. I can tell you that getting caught by your mother having sex with your girlfriend is the most embarrassing moment of my entire life. And I will remember it for the rest of my life.

We leave the bedroom and go down to the kitchen. I immediately look down when I enter the kitchen and look straight down when my mother looks at us with narrowed eyes. I know when her eyes are narrowed like that, she's angry.

I sit at the kitchen table in front of my mother. Y/n goes to sit next to me but my mother points to the chair at the end of the table without breaking the eye contact she tries to make with me but I keep my eyes looking down. Y/n does as my mother says and sits down.

“Is this the first time you’ve made love in my house?” » Natalie asks, clasping her hands together. I hold back laughter because my mother thinks she's a superb interrogator.

I shake my head and look up to pinch my nose.

“Jenna, Y/n do you realize that, DJ, Cash could have walked into your room and been traumatized. Even worse, what if one of the boys brought Mya? »

“We’re sorry, mom. But we were really careful. We waited until everyone was asleep or no one was home. »

“Yes, we’re really sorry, Natalie. It wouldn't happen again. »

I know Y/n is terrified. And I would have liked to be close to her to comfort her.

“I forgive you, but no more sex in my house understood? » My mother said, pointing at us both.

" Yes mom. » “Yes Natalie. » We both answered.

" GOOD. » My mother gets up but sits back down and looks at me.

“Did you use condoms?” » my mother asks me as she looks at me intently.

Fuck! I completely forgot the condom! We don't take condoms since Y/n is on the pill. So we never take it during our sexual relations.

Y/n and I look down in shame and I hear my mother let out a breath.

“Jenna!” Do you know what happens when someone who has a penis can do after unprotected sex!? »

I make a disgusted face as Y/n sinks back into her chair.

“But of course yes, mom, I know what it does! And Y/n takes the pill! » I then say that all I want is for this conversation to end as quickly as possible.

“But that’s not enough Jenna! Y/n could get pregnant even if she takes the pill! Should I give you a lesson on sexuality and the use of condoms? » My mother said, looking at us both.

" Mom! No! No way! » I respond quickly as I stand up. “Come on baby let’s go.” » I take Y/n's hand and she stands up.

" No no no. As a consequence of having made love in my house and without a condom, you are going to pick up Aliyah from her friend's house. »

“But weren’t you already going to get her? " I ask. And it’s only now that I’ve never seen my little sister.

“No, she was staying later after all. » My mother tells me and I start to panic. I look at Y/n with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry. I didn't hear anything so I went running. And I’m really happy I went for a run because my ears wouldn’t have liked it.” My mother says and I roll my eyes.

“Okay, I’ll go. Come on Y/n let's go. » I say before my mother intervenes.

“No, Y/n stay here. I am going to start my sexuality and condom use class. » Natalie said, taking my girlfriend's arm and leading her towards her. Y/n is as red as a tomato.

" But… "

“Don’t worry my dear, you will have time to attend my class too if you hurry. » My mother says to me without letting go of Y/n's arm and looks at me with a smirk because she knows that she always wins at this game.

I roll my eyes and look at Y/n. And she looks at me. I know she's telling me to help her. But my mother will never let her.

" Sorry. » I say on the lips. Y/n gives a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. I know she is ashamed and would probably like to step aside.

I leave the house and head to my car. I look behind me and see Natalie waving goodbye to me and still with that shitty smirk on her face. Y/n is still as red as a tomato at the thought of my mother lecturing her on sexuality. I breathe and get in my car towards Aliyah's friend.

At least we will have learned our lesson. We will never make love in my mother's house again.

#jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x y/n #g!p

[kichiyosh1]

Deceitful youth

Modern au! scaramouche x f! reader

w//: yandere themes, suggestive, cross-dressing, obsession, photographs of you and your stolen things

summary: When you finally transfer to an all girls school, he was left with no choice but to take on a false female identity. Just so he wouldn't have to be separated from you, he'd do anything.

< previous | Masterlist | next >

He was obsessed with you from the start.

That day in grade school when you found him playing alone in a corner and you came to offer your hand out for him to take, inviting him to play with the other kids with a cheery smile on your face.

"It must be boring playing there by yourself, come on! i'll introduce you to the others!"

He only stared at your outstretched hand, before looking back up to meet your eyes, his eyebrows drooping before he averted his gaze a few seconds after.

"I don't like playing with the other kids, they think i'm weird..."

"What do they think they're talking about? there's nothing wrong with being weird! I mean, i think i'm weird, but there's nothing wrong with me, see?" you then proceeded to flail your arms out in the air, thinking that'd somehow convince him of your point.

'nope, there's definitely something wrong with you' he wanted to say, but he decided ignoring you would be the best course of action. Unfortunately, you weren't going to let him.

"Let me play with you then! whether if you're called weird or not, I dont mind, because you're definitely much cooler looking than the other kids!"

Cool? you think he was cool? better than the other kids even? he went silent after that, a little too flustered to say anything, but didn't make a move to pull his hand out of your grasp as you led him to who knows where.

if only those times with you could've lasted longer

As time went on you became more distant with the people around you, especially when it came to the opposite sex. He knew what your reasons were, you had told him before you decided to cut all ties.

"My mom... doesn't like the idea of me hanging around with other people, especially boys for some reason. Ah, it's not that I don't like hanging out with you! but, I'm really sorry."

Despite this, that didn't stop his on growing obsession for you. From grade school all the way to high school, he was content knowing you were still in the same school as him. Even if he had to keep a good distance away as to not scare you off. How his fingers nails would dig deep into the wood of the outdoor table when he sees you all buddy, buddy with your friend group, and to no ones surprise, only consisted of girls.

Your mother really did engrave it in your brain, the 'all men are evil' kind of saying, annoyingly enough. The way your face would deflate whenever a guy would walk by a little too close to you. Seeing you fear other guys brought a strange feeling of delight and relief to him. The chances of you getting a boyfriend was beyond negative and non-existent.

Maybe your mother wasn't all that crazy and weird after all. It's true, had it been anyone else, any other guy, they were undeserving of your time and attention. Who knows how they would have treated you, but not him, because only he could treat you right.

You had befriended him first, and in return he will continue to watch over you, as the loving boyfriend you didn't know you had and needed.

So why.

Why did you leave?

"It's been a week since [y/n] transferred to that all girls school."

A week? he's surprised he hasn't spiraled yet into madness.

"Tsk, she thinks she's better than us that she can just up and leave like that?"

'Annoying wench, of course she's better than you, in fact, you're not even close to her league'

"Man, good thing I'm a guy, If I wasn't I'd probably be there too."

'ugh, nobody's forcing you, who the hell cares what—'

he nearly choked

eyes bloodshot when he scanned the room, his bedroom. Why was he here? shouldn't he be in school? Wait, you didn't attend the same school as him anymore, so what even was the point of going?

He layed there with his arm over his forehead, his eyes devoid of any light, the same ones that were present whenever you'd step into a room.

If only he could follow you, he would, but how? If only the world would bend down to his wants, and rules be damned when it came to you. He zoned out the knocking at his door, faintly hearing the jingling of keys when his sister stepped into the room.

"Really? getting all worked up because of some girl that you can't even bother with your attendance anymore?" Raiden Mei, better than being scolded by his mother atleast.

"You're trespassing." said in such a robotic and raspy voice, his glare was received unfazed by mei. "Relax, I've got today off so I decided to be the oh so kind sister that I am and do everyone's laundry. Unless you want to continue living like the hermit that you are under all this pile of trash." He didn't bother replying, and neither did mei want to continue the conversation further, so silence enveloped the room as she rummaged through the pile of clothes that were on the floor.

but something caught her eye, at the foot of the heep was a pretty [f/c] t-shirt that had obviously no business being there. "This-","Don't touch that!" the grip he had on her was inhumane, he hovered above her with a look that clearly said 'don't'. Despite the burning sensation on her wrist, there wasn't a single sign of discomfort shown, instead it was disgust.

"So not only are you a creep," Her eyes wandered to the many pictures of you he had on his wall, she tried to the best of her ability to ignore whenever entering his room, "you're a thief too." She jerked her hand out of his grasp, leaving the t-shirt alone before quickly finishing up collecting his dirty clothes.

"Mind your own damn business","if it would make you feel any better, mom thought you were gonna be a girl, atleast she hoped you would be."

she rested her hand on the doorknob, pausing for a moment, causing scaramouche to raise a brow. "and that's going to help me feel better, how?"

"maybe if she continued believing you were a girl, maybe you would have been, if that came to be then i guess you would have been able to follow her." His breath hitched, the cogs in his head finally starting to turn.

The door to his room was already closed when mei let out a sigh, 'Could have been blessed with a sister, but I've been cursed to have this gremlin for a brother' she'd be lying if she said she wasn't concerned, whether if it was for you or for him, that was none of her buisness.

"poor girl".

_

Back in his room, he was already plotting what he'd do next. The answer was so obvious, so easy for him to achieve, that he's wondering why he hasn't thought of it sooner.

"Being a girl, huh," it wasn't impossible for him to do, he already has feminine features, as he wasn't blessed with a muscular body. He knows how to do make-up, and it would probably be best if he wore a wig to add on to his girly appearance. He'd need to change his wardrobe too, he'll have to do a little bit of research on what girls usually wear depending on what occasion. He's not worried about changing his identity, he's had experience before when making fake accounts and id's. The transfer won't be a problem, he can use his mother's connections to get him in, quite the convenience. You probably already forgot about him, as much as it hurts to say, but it's for the best so you won't be able to recognise him.

He's already getting lightheaded at the idea, giggling to himself imagining all the things he could get away with. Visiting your room wouldn't be weird, sleepovers? he gets to sleep next to you? he's shaking at the idea. Maybe even borrow each other's things, make-up, clothes, food? If you saw him as a girl then you wouldn't have to be afraid of him. It wouldn't be weird if he got all touchy with you, I mean your friends do it all the time, right?

something was starting to rise between his legs, he cringed at the motion. He better keep that in check if he doesn't want his secret to be revealed once he gets close to you.

He's sighing dreamily, his hand going over the framed photo he has of you on his desk. It was the one his mother took when the both of you were still in grade school.

"My [y/n], my darling [y/n]." His gaze softened at the idea of finally being close to you, once again.

"Let's start over."

pt.2?

#kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #kabukimono x reader #kabukimono #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #I forgot secret alliance existed damn

[adventuringblind]

Daddy Issues Part 2

Max Verstappen X Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Requested: No, but I'm in a writing mood, so I'm taking requests for Max and Charles. *Silently begs for people to not be shy*

Summary: Jos may have been dealt with for now, but parental issues for the two lovers are far from it.

Warnings: DADDY ISSUES... again, mentions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, not proofread (I don't even proofread my college papers), Jos is a warning himself

Notes: This part is written in the second person perspective because it's more geared toward the readers' struggles. Jos does make a reappearance. At this point, it's completely self-indlugent. I'm writing from similar experiences, so please be gracious.

Also, I posted things about a novel I'm currently working on. If you have a chance, please give it a look! You can find it on my masterlist.

Masterlist // Part one // Part three

You were naïve to think that your troubles would be over after the interaction with Jos.

The air around you and Max had become significantly lighter. Max even opened up about things to his friends and was able to smile more during races.

You loved watching him. The light in his eyes even when coming in second or third.

You thought maybe the two of you would be able to heal and move forward. Max had been thriving the last six months. Both physically and mentally because of the steps he'd been taking to get there.

However, you had a different story. While Max had been able to cut off contact with Jos, you had your dad to deal with still.

Thankfully, your dad was good at putting on his best performance around people. It was the reason very few people had the privilege of understanding your relationship with your family.

You'd wanted to cut him off originally, but you couldn't because you still felt the underlying need to please him. Your mom is in a similar situation, and your sibling(s) who still had yet to be able to make that choice.

You hadn't told Max yet. Things had gotten worse for you recently. You didn't want to ruin his current state of joy.

A people pleaser by heart.

So you hid that part away and put on your best face as you basked in Max's smiles. The warmth of them helping you mask yourself.

Until it started to fall apart.

The first encounter was once again with Jos. You found him in hospitality during a race. Immediately getting defensive and ready to call security.

That was until you noticed him having a conversation with your father. The two seeming to have a lively discussion.

Then they noticed you. Hand beckoning you to come closer.

Cautiously, you approached the table. Choosing not to take a seat and standing at the end instead.

"Good to see you again! I hope you haven't missed me too much since we last spoke." Jos' voice sounded like sandpaper in your ears. The bruise on your cheek had long since healed, but being near him brought back the stinging feeling of his hand.

"I hadn't realized you both were coming." Your voice came out shakily. Fingers crossed that they didn't catch on to your ever-growing anxiety.

"Jos managed to get passes and invited me to come along. Since you and Max are close he figured we should be too." Your father explained. "Though I'm shocked they didn't come from Max himself."

You tried hard not to grimace. The realization that you might have to explain why doing nothing to help your panic creeping in slowly.

"I bet if you were as successful as Max, you wouldn't need him to give us the passes." Your father laughs in your direction.

"What is it you do again?" Jos suddenly turning towards you. A hint of a smirk on his lips.

"I'm in psychology."

"No wonder you need Max's money."

"Bet she has Max hypnotized with her knowledge of the brain or something."

The two were cracking up now. Laughing at your expense.

Your dad calmed down a moment. Breathing deeply to get his breath back. His face became neutral again, noticing the obvious frown you now dawned. "It was a joke, Y/N. There's no need to get upset. Max isn't going to be able to handle you eventually if you don't get thicker skin.

You'd had enough. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone, you turn to head back to the garage. Maybe even to hide in Max's driver room for a moment.

Though you didn't get far before a hand caught your wrist. "Stop ignoring me. It's disrespectful, and I am still your father." You didn't turn around. Didn't want him to see you cry. "I have you a life that was better than mine. My father would have never even tried. Yet, you still don't listen to me. Get your act together soon, please."

To outsiders, he sounded sincere. You, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing.

Yanking your hand back, you continue walking without giving the two older men a second glance.

If you were home, you would lock yourself in your room til he threatened to take your door. Then, you would shower and hide in the bathroom. If that didn't work, you would try to look productive and cry silently so he couldn't be mad at you for doing such an action as letting the tears roll. He thinks it's over dramatic.

Somtimes he would take to slamming things around. Doors, chairs, his phone, things in his room, not at you but purposely loud.

It didn't matter how hard you worked, it would never be enough. This is how you and Max are able to understand each other. You knew exactly what the other needed because both of you have lived this.

As soon as the race was over, you went to celebrate Max and his victory. The moment was joyful for him. Making a mental note to tell him what happened earlier, you decided now definitely wasn't the time.

Neither was when you got back to your hotel room after celebrating. Or when you took a phone call from your dad with more lovely words that made you feel disgusting in your own skin. Or the plane ride back to Monaco. Or when you got home and immediately went to shower because your entire body felt like it was dirty from nothing but your dad and Jos harassing you.

You didn't tell your mom either, she had enough things to deal with. You didn't tell anyone for that matter.

Max had caught on when he noticed you weren't sleeping. When you weren't eating. When you started apologizing excessively. Habits he thought he broke when he was able to get you to move in with him through constant reassurance.

Now, you were moving backward while he was moving forward.

Then he put the pieces together. He only wished he saw it sooner. Could've stopped what happened before it was pulled like a ruug out from under him.

You had flown home to see your sibling(s) for a week. You missed them dearly and wanted to spend time with them while Max was away.

It had started smoothly, your dad being civil with you, a few sarcastic remarks thrown around here and there, but nothing too bad.

He was trying to convince you to come back home, where you belonged. You kept brushing him off, telling him you're happy where you are now.

It only got worse from there. Your father and Jos had gotten closer over time. He had coincidentally come knocking at the door while you were there. He said he was in the area and wanted to say hello.

Your sibling(s) had tried to get you out of the house, but you only said it would make things worse. It earned you some feelings of sadness, but they left you to converse regardless.

The four of you sat in the living room. Your mom and you mostly listen to the two men catching up.

Then your mom left to make dinner. You stood up with the intention of following before being stopped by the pair.

"Jos tells me Max has been ignoring him."

Your tempted to roll your eyes but refrain in case he's paying close attention.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me the reason behind it. Have you been filling his head with lies about our exchange awhile back?" Jos' smirk makes you want to hit him. Again you refrain, knowing that he can and will hurt you if you're out of line.

"He saw why happened." You state. Making a move to hold your ground.

"He hears what you said as he came inside. He fell for the obvious manipulation. I can't believe you even blamed the bruise on me." He fakes a look of offense.

Your father shakes his head on disgust. Your body goes rigid. Voices begin sounding like they're underwater. You hang your head in defeat as they continue to accuse you of things you would never do.

"Stop it!" You snapped. Something in you breaking loose.

In seconds, a cup was shattered against the wall, and your face was burning with the sting of someone's palm.

You know you had to leave. The adrenaline from your flight response is kicking in.

So you ran, grabbing what you could and quickly exiting the house. Your mom is doing her best to keep her distance from your dad while he throws his temper tantrum and Jos convincing him that I am an entitled brat.

You definitely didn't have all your stuff, but it didn't matter. You called an Uber and found your way back to the airport. Finding and flight back to Monaco you could.

You received a few texts from your dad before blocking him and called the rest of your family to apologize for your behavior and say you'd wished you'd had more time.

Then you called Max. You hand messaged him back since mid-morning and he was starting to get concerned.

"Hello Lovely, is everything alright? I haven't heard much from you today?" His cheery voice made your smile just a little.

"Yes, but I'm coming home early. I'm on an early flight back home." Your voice is on the verge of breaking. You send a silent prayer that he doesn't catch one.

You hear his phone buzzing with notifications. "How were things at the factory?" You ask, making an attempt to change the subject.

"Is was alright, did some marketing and PR things today. Daniel says Hello." He chuckles. "My dad has been texting me though, which is odd."

You hear him sigh deeply. "Are you sure you're okay? Because he's trying to convince me of things I know aren't true."

"Your dad was there visiting mine coincidentally." The damage holding back your tears was coming loose. "I messed everything up again."

"Mijn liefje, you did nothing of the sort." His voice once again had that gentle tone. One that made you feel safe. "I'm not sure how fast I can he back in Monaco, but I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

By the time you had landed, it was early in the morning. You considered just waiting in the airport until it was brighter and then walking home since Max was still in Austria. So, the text that came from Lando that he was coming to get you was a bit of a shock.

You were relieved when he pulled in. Satey once again within your reach.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"No worries, Max called and asked if I could. Said it was a bit on an emergency but didn't say what happened." He smiled at you, trying to get you to become less defensive.

You hadn't realized how tense you still were. Your body is still trying to shrink in on itself.

You attempted small talk until he pulled into up to the apartment. "Thanks again for the ride." Then you rushed inside as fast as possible.

The floor became your best friend. Everything after opening the door became blurry.

When you woke up later on the bathroom floor with Max's sweatshirt as your pillow, you had no idea how it happened.

Texts from Max and Lando lined your notification wall. Your body too heavy to move however, you resigned to back to the comfort of the floor and the comforting smell of Max.

The next time you woke up, you heard keys jingling in the door.

You curled into yourself. Hiding from the inevitably of confronting what happened only a day earlier.

"Love, are you here? I'm home!"

You wanted to crawl to him. Seek comfort in his arms. But your own mind was stopping you. Replaying everything that they said about you.

You heard him drop his bags and begin his search. Bedroom, kitchen, office, terrace, then finally bathroom. He knew he should have checked their first. The bathroom had always been your safe space. He often found you just sitting in the empty bathtub if life felt overwhelming.

He peeked around the corner, his face instantly softening at the sight of you.

Neither of you said anything as he crouched down next to you. Unsure the extent of what happened, he refrained from touching you.

"Can I hug you?" His voice almost a whisper. As if speaking any louder would shatter you like that glass your dad had thrown as you made your escape.

You slowly nod yes but make no effort to move. You end up not having to as Max pulls you into his arms. Your body draped over his lap.

You felt so small in this moment, with his hand caressing the back of your head.

The dam broke. A hard sob wracked your body. Wailing into Max's chest.

"You're safe now, I got you." He whispered. His hold unrelenting until the tears were able to slow.

"I'm so sorry." Your voice muffled from his chest. "You were so happy I didn't want to ruin it, so I didn't tell you."

"I'm happiest when I know you are also doing well. You can't ruin that for me. I love you too much to see you like this." He pulled your face back, his soft eyes meeting yours.

He was finally able to take in the bruise on your cheek. Once again, not able to stop the unrelenting force of your fathers misdemeanors against you both.

He was angry, you could tell. You saw the rage flash through his eyes.

Knowing that's not what you needed right now, though, he softened again. "Who did this to you love?"

You began rapidly shaking your head no. Not wanting to relive it and not wanting to make things more difficult for him. "I can't-" you started.

"It's my job to make sure you're safe because I love you. It's not going to be an inconvenience." He always knew what to say.

"Jos." Was all you could muster before you were crying into his shoulder again.

You told him everything. All the events in the past few months. Every awful word spoken towards you. How he understood you, you have no idea.

The two of you stayed like that until you fell asleep in Max's arms. Knowing you couldn't stay here forever, he brought you to the bed and tucked you in. His lips on your forehead the last sensation before you were completely lost to your subconscious.

MAX'S POV

Everything about the situation made him want to break down. He thought he would finally be able to move on. He did, kind of, but left you behind in the process.

He knew something was wrong but didn't want to force you to open up. You needed to process things longer and came to him when you were ready.

This situation affected you differently though. Your response to your father had always been inward. Taught from a young age just to take it and nit talk about it. Convinced that you shouldn't paint your home life as bad because you had a roof over your head and food on your table.

He understands, though his reactions are different. Often not understanding that something was wrong and just talking about it like it was normal.

Daniel was the first to question, and you were the first to get him like nobody else.

You broke eachothers bad habits you'd learned from years of toxicity. Started learning better communication. Working through things and understanding eachothers responses.

He could never thank you enough for your help with his dad. Standing up for him despite the physical altercation was brave. He knew it was hard for you but you loved him enough to do it anyways.

Now, it was his turn to help you through this. He didn't care how long it took.

The bruise on your cheek only sparked a fire in him. He was tired of the hurt your fathers were causing. He knew now that both of you deserved better.

So, he would help it get better.

#max verstappen is a protector #x reader #angst #f1 fic #formula one #max verstappen #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader #super max #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #redbull racing #redbull #daddy issues #jos verstappen #lando norris x reader #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #fanficion #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #this is self indulgent #but i don't care #this man is everything to me #appreciate him #hurt/comfort #f1 pilot #racing

[gingiesworld]

Obsessions (5/?)

Wanda Maximoff x Rogers Fem Reader

Warnings: angst, longing, huge time skip. Grief. Fluff

Taglist: @sytoran @ginnsbaker @gb12d @lifespectator @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6

18+ MINORS DNI

The last four years flew by, Wanda graduated from the local college as she constantly looked on Y/N's social media. Seeing she had been silent for the last two years.

"Have you heard from Y/N?" Wanda questioned her twin who sighed.

"Look Wanda, I am not going to be in the middle of this thing you have going on." He told her bluntly.

"I'm worried about her, Pietro." Wanda stated as he just shook his head.

"It's a little late now." He scoffed as he stood up from the sofa. "Also if you're wondering, Christine broke up with her and she has been in England for the past year."

"Why?" Wanda pressed as he sighed.

"Peggy is dying." He told her, tears in his eyes. "Y/N needed to be with her mom so she referred the last year of college to stay with Peggy." He watched as Wanda started up the stairs. "How you use this information is now on you Wanda. What you decide to do now will impact the two of you."

Wanda knew exactly what she needed to do. She needed to be the friend for Y/N, the friend she should have been all of those years ago. So she booked a flight to Heathrow, a one way ticket as she didn't know how long she would be there for. How long she needed to be there for.

Y/N had been staying at a hotel nearby the family home, not wanting to stay under the roof as she needed some time to herself as her Uncle and cousin would be there to help her. Y/N was shocked the moment she heard a knock on the door, opening the door unsurely to see Wanda on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" She asked her bluntly as Wanda sighed.

"I wanted to be here for you." She told her, stepping inside and dropping her bag on the floor. "Pietro told me."

"He had no right." Y/N spat as she glared at the woman before her. "I managed to get through losing my dad without you and I can sure as hell get through losing mom without you here."

"I am not going anywhere Y/N." Wanda told her softly, reaching for Y/N's hands. "I am right where I need to be." Y/N searched her eyes for any signs of regret, Y/N soon captured her lips in a hard kiss which Wanda soon pushed her away. "I am not doing this with you again Y/N." She told her sternly. "You are in a vulnerable state and I will not take advantage of you like that."

"You're not taking advantage!" Y/N yelled as Wanda watched her pace the floor before stopping and looking out of the window at the city below them. "I guess, you're right. I am not in the right mindset for that." Wanda listened as she spoke. "I guess I just, I can't lose her Wanda." For the first time in years, Wanda had seen some form of emotion in her eyes. "She is my mom, how am I supposed to go on without her. I lost my dad and that was ok I guess. I had mom and we got through it together but now, who do I have?"

"You have me." Wanda told her confidently. "I am here Y/N. I am right where I want to be. Where I need to be." Wanda stepped closer. "And I am not going anywhere." Y/N let her walls down and sobbed, Wanda opened her arms for her to hold as she cried and cried. Whispering sweet words to her and just holding her in a warm embrace as she cried.

At some point throughout the night, Wanda had moved the two towards the bed as Y/N started to lose her energy, tired from the overwhelming emotions she never wanted to feel again. She soon woke to Wanda talking lowly on the phone as she ran her hand through Y/N's hair.

"I don't think she is doing too well Piet." Wanda spoke softly, not paying too much attention to the girl in her lap looking up at her. "Yes, I am here for the long haul." Wanda scoffed at something her brother said. "No. I am not going to leave her alone. Leaving her in the first place is my biggest regret and I have to live with that."

"Hey." Y/N spoke softly as she tried to save Wanda from a conversation with her brother. "Tell him I'll call him later." She asked Wanda who relayed the message. Wanda watched as Y/N had gotten up and walked into the bathroom. Washing her face before looking at her reflection in the mirror. She looked exhausted and weak, there was barely any life left in her eyes. She didn't even recognise the girl staring back at her.

"Y/N?" Wanda knocked on the door after realising Y/N was in the bathroom for a long period of time.

"Yes?" She asked as she stepped out to see a concerned Wanda.

"I'm going to go and book another room but please just call me if you need anything." Wanda told her.

"Anything?" She asked with a raised brow.

"Anything but that." Wanda told her firmly, stepping away from her. "I already told you I am not going to do anything like that with you while everything is going on."

"You mean my mom dying and me becoming an orphan?" Y/N sneered as Wanda sighed sadly. "I'm sorry." She apologised as she went to grab a bottle of water. "I guess I am just not used to this right now." She pointed between the two of them.

"I am trying to be a friend to you again. I am trying to be the person I should have been all along. The friend I should have been regardless of my own insecurities." Wanda told her.

"Just go home Wanda." Y/N told her sadly. "I just, I don't think I can deal with this right now."

"I am not leaving you." Wanda told her firmly.

"Yes you are." Y/N spat. "You did it easily all of those years ago."

"Yes I did and I hate myself for it." Wanda told her. "Please give me this chance to show you that I am here now. I am all in with whatever this is." She pointed between the two as Y/N sighed, tears in her eyes as she saw the best friend she used to love before she turned her back on her.

"The hotel is fully booked and there isn't another one for about 45 mins away." Y/N told her softly. "You can take the bed and I'll take the sofa."

"No." Wanda shook her head as she wore a gentle smile on her face. "You take the bed and I'll take the sofa."

"You won't fit on it." Y/N stated as Wanda laughed.

"And you will? You're taller than me Y/N." She told her as Y/N nodded in agreement.

"I guess the bed is big enough for the two of us." She shrugged as Wanda agreed. The two did their nightly routines before settling on the bed, leaving a gap between the two. Wanda turned to look at Y/N who remained looking at the hands in her lap.

"I have been seeing my therapist since leaving New York." Wanda told her. "I have figured out a lot of the reasons I was the way I was. I know it's not an excuse but maybe one day we can talk about it all?"

"Maybe." Y/N told her. "I think we do need to talk about it all, but after my mom because I don't think I can deal with all of the grief alone."

"You won't be alone Y/N, I am going to be here for you. Every step." Wanda took Y/N's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze as Y/N gazed at her.

"I missed you. This version of you." Y/N whispered as her tears started to fall. "This is the version of you I have always loved." Wanda just gave her a guilty look before lifting Y/N's hand and kissing it gently.

"Get some rest." Wanda told her softly. "You're going to need it." Y/N just nodded before bidding goodnight and turning away from Wanda.

As the days blurred together, the pain grew more and more as Peggy came closer to her last breath. Especially since the diagnosis, this was the worst thing for her family to watch. They all witnessed her start to fade away, the disease slowly taking her away. The soft words of love and affection were spoken to each of her family until it was just Y/N left with her. A smile on Peggy's face as she took her daughter's hand.

"I have always been proud of the person you have become." She told her as Y/N listened. "You have a huge heart Y/N, don't ever lose sight of the good in the world, in your relationships."

"Mom." Y/N started as Peggy hushed her.

"Wanda came back." She whispered. "She has changed, well she is more like the little girl I knew when you first introduced her to your father and I." Y/N wiped a tear that fell. "Don't push her away because of the past. Communicate with her. Become friends again and maybe in the distant future, you may become more."

"I don't think so." Y/N whispered as Peggy took a labored breath.

"You two are a match made in heaven." She told her. "You just need to work out the past and work towards the future."

"I'm going to miss you." Y/N whispered shakily as Peggy gave her a sad smile.

"I am never going to be too far." Peggy told her with a smile. "I will always be in your heart with your father." Y/N watched as Peggy started to lose consciousness, she witnessed her take her last breath before she left the room. The feeling of the warmth of Peggy's hand slowly fading as she walked through the halls. Her whole being numb as the world around her seemed to blur. Walking to the nearest pub and ordering a pint as she sat at the bar. The sound of the music melded in with the sound of the sports commentator on the football match playing on the TV.

Wanda entered the pub and took a seat beside them, ordering herself a drink and another for Y/N. She knew that drinking may not be the best thing right now but Y/N needed her more than anything.

"She's gone." Y/N whispered as Wanda sipped her pint beside her. "She's with dad now and I am here. Alone."

"You're not alone Y/N." Wanda told her comfortingly. "I am not leaving you, not again."

"How am I supposed to trust that?" Y/N asked quietly.

"I don't know." Wanda gave a tight lipped smile before talking once more. "I guess I have to earn the trust that I lost back. I have to show you that I mean every word I am saying because I mean it Y/N. I will be here with you. For everything."

"I guess we can be somewhat acquaintances." Y/N smirked as Wanda nodded with a giggle.

"To new acquaintances." Wanda clinked her glass with Y/N who just smiled. The first genuine smile she had given the brunette before her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

[randomshyperson]

Ribs - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: It's an afternoon like any other, but you and Wanda are grown up now. | Song Based.

Warnings: Mutual Pining, friends to lovers, fluff., some typical trope angst, high school. | Words: 1.755

A/N-> Old work that I found lost in the drafts, is part of a new collection "Song-Based". This one is based on "Ribs" by Lorde.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

-&-

The drink you spilt all over me

"Lover's Spit" left on repeat

My mom and dad let me stay home

It drives you crazy getting old

Your apologetic chuckle echoes through the room and mingles with Wanda's. She was wet - from the tip of her shirt to the hem - as was your left hand that had just accidentally turned the cup over your best friend.

"Fuck, Wanda, I'm sorry." You repeated once again, stumbling away from her and unknowingly allowing her to breathe normally without having you all over her. You left the glass in the kitchen sink and grabbed the first dishcloth you could find. "Here. To dry."

As she tried to lessen the damage to her wet blouse, you found another cloth to wipe up the drink that splashed on the floor, offering Wanda a wink as you caught her staring.

"Do you think your parents are going to kill me? They specifically told me to behave." Your comment makes her laugh slightly, and Wanda gives up drying her blouse.

"Don't worry, just wipe it off and I'll cover you." She assures, walking past the puddle. Your joke, whatever it was, dies in your throat as Wanda pulls the blouse off her body, and exposes her pale back and bra lock to you. 

Your face burns, and you immediately turn your attention back to the wet floor.

She leaves the kitchen for the bedroom, probably in search of a clean T-shirt, and if she notices your silence or misses your come back, she doesn't say anything.

–//–

You finish cleaning the kitchen floor first, and when Wanda comes out of the room - now wearing a large T-shirt that makes her look like she's not wearing shorts at all - you are in the living room again, tracing your fingers across the pictures on top of the fireplace.

Listening to her footsteps on the carpet, you comment on the photo you are looking at: 

"It seems like yesterday." Wanda looks at you curiously, and you point to the photo, turning your face to her. "Elementary school. You and me on the slide, Wands. It seems like yesterday, but it's been years. How crazy is it that we're already going to college?"

Wanda smiles fondly, moving closer to look at the photo. "Totally insane." She murmurs, chuckling softly when she has the picture in hand of the two of you playing together. "You haven't changed a bit, detka." 

You shrug, looking at the other pictures. "I like my hair better now." You comment, getting a hum in return. "And you have changed. You do look prettier." Wanda raises an eyebrow, surprised, and you look away. "N-not that you weren't pretty before, I mean..."

She giggles, returning the photo to the fireplace. "Are you drunk?"

You snort in embarrassment. "How could I, I knocked over all the wine." 

Wanda giggles again, stepping away before you can get any closer.

She walks over to the radio you forgot to turn on and decides to change Lover's Spit which has been on repeat for the last 30 minutes to something else.

You take a deep breath to yourself, trying to keep it together before staring at the picture for one last time.

"It's kind of scary, Wanda." You mutter. "We're growing up so fast."

Wanda looks over her shoulder at you. "At least we're growing up together." She reminds you, and it brings you such immediate peace that you feel silly for ever having felt fear.

“We can talk it so good

We can make it so divine

We can talk it good

How you wish it would be all the time”

Wanda carefully adjusted herself on the pillows, fearing that the slightest movement would wake you up and end the moment completely. Hours into what you called "hang around her place" as you two had always done since elementary school, and between stealing wine from her parents' shelf, dancing to music on the carpet, and pillow fights, you crashed together on the couch. You spent some time making small talk, dreaming about college until you said you had a funny video to show her on Tik Tok and Wanda ended up lying on your side. 

You fell asleep just before sunset, halfway through Little Women that you decided to watch after you got tired of the app, and Wanda was having the best and worst time of her life.

The best, because she felt too good with your body tangled up in hers, snoring softly against her collarbone. And worst, because you were her best friend - probably her only real friend - and it was terrifying how good that feeling was when she knows she was not supposed to feel like this about a friend.

She swallowed dryly, once and then twice, trying to keep her heartbeat under control inside her chest, fearing that the sound would wake you too. The movie played quietly on the carpet, Wanda had dropped her cell phone and simply didn't have the heart to move away.

She just stayed there, almost static for a good few minutes, feeling you breathe against her skin and warming her whole body at once.

Despite her efforts, you started to wake up. Maybe it was your favorite dialogue starting in the movie. She continued to stare at the ceiling, fearing that you were going to reprimand her for allowing you to snuggle with her without protest.

Instead, you chuckled low and squeezed a little tighter.

"Sorry, darling." You mumbled sleepily. "I'm not moving. 'm tired."

Your warning made Wanda chuckle with butterflies in her stomach. She figured that permission for her to move had just been granted as well, so she did, not letting go of you while she found a more comfortable position. You grumbled softly, your soft breath chilling the skin on Wanda's neck.

Perhaps to gain a little ground, or perhaps just because she wanted to, Wanda brought her hand to your hair, biting her lips at the immediate sigh of satisfaction she received when she began stroking them.

It took a moment, but you spoke again. "Wands, you are my favorite person in the world." You whispered against her pulse, and Wanda was sure you can feel it quicken. She froze, and before she could tense up, even more, you sighed. "Promise me nothing will change when we went to college."

She frowns and resists the urge to face you. "Why would anything change?"

You swallow dryly, one of your hands moves down to play with the edge of her T-shirt, and Wanda knows she is blushing at the feel of your fingers rubbing against her hip, but she says nothing about it. Just waiting for you to clarify what you meant.

"Like... Bucky and Steve." You mutter. "They were inseparable before Yale, but now..."

"We're not like Bucky and Steve, Y/N." She assures you, finally looking down. It takes you a moment to meet her gaze again, and Wanda understands that it's because, in this closeness, it becomes difficult to talk about anything. "Nothing is going to change between us. It's you and me forever, remember? Just like we promised."

Your gaze wavers, between the green irises and the pink lips, and Wanda hopes that everything changes between the two of you. 

"I'm going to miss this." You confess with a small smile. "Spending afternoons around your house."

Wanda smiles as well. "Spilling drinks on my favorite blouse too." She teases making you giggle and release her to tickle her. Wanda struggles to get away from your hands, but you fight back, and between giggles, you end up on your back on the carpet as you fall off the couch, increasing the other girl's laughter. She covers her face for the next minute. "Sorry, but you had it coming."

You giggle as well, sitting up leisurely until you are at the height of her face again. "I think I might just move to your dorm." You tell her. "I won't survive if I can't talk to you."

"Your fault for choosing another course." She tries to joke because you are looking at her in a way that makes her heart unlearn to beat properly. You smile, and you don't stop, just stare and stare until Wanda finally builds up the courage to break the distance.

The brushing of lips is as fast as the blink of an eye, but it freezes you. You sigh with your eyes closed, like Wanda, and are ready to surrender to the absurd attraction when the front door opens and you jump away as if you've been burned.

It is Pietro and Yelena returning from the summer club and they are loud enough to drown out the sound of your racing hearts, trying to disguise what they were doing. 

"Mama's gonna kill you, Wanda." Pietro suddenly emerged from the kitchen, with the bottle of wine she had forgotten to put away.

Wanda left the couch, never meeting your gaze again, with the perfect excuse to flee to the other commode.

Yelena threw herself into the seat she was occupying.

"How do you manage to spend all day locked in here? It's fucking hot." She commented, only noticing your awkward compartment because you were biting your lip so hard it was going to hurt. She frowned. "Did we interrupt something?"

You grimaced. "Don't start." You cut her off in desperation, looking back to check if Wanda or Pietro had heard the joke, but the two of them were arguing in the kitchen about the wine. "Don't say anything. Not today. Please."

Yelena looked worried. "Shit. We did interrupt, didn't we?"

Suddenly you seem almost on the verge of tears. Yelena has no chance to despair. You take a deep breath and push your emotions away at once.

"Oh, honey, you need to tell her." Yelena says, looking at you with compassion.

You deny it with your head, forcing a smile. "We're friends, Lena. I don't want to risk losing that."

The blonde sighed in defeat, looking into the kitchen as well to make sure none of the twins were coming back. She taps the seat next to her and waits for you to sit down.

"You like her. For a long time, Y/N." She insists in a low tone. "Being friends will never be enough if you like her that way."

You twiddle your fingers together, and when you hear the twins approaching, you nod to Yelena. "I'll tell her one day." And that ends the matter.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff imagines

[blackbirdie1234]

The Strange Encounter

Paring: Embry Call x Reader!

This is my first time writing a fan fic. If you guys like it let me know! I'm going to post part 2 very soon! Hope you enjoy :)

No warnings

Summary: You recently moved back to Forks after not being in the town since you were eight. When your old friend Jacob Black asks you to come to a party down at La Push you accept. What's the worst that could happen?

It was a calm and cool fall day in Forks. You are helping your mom at the bookstore she owns. As you stock the shelves you look out the window and see a group of guys around your age walking. You recognize one of the faces "Oh my god, Mom is that Jacob Black?" you ask in shock. Your Mom comes over to you with a confused look on her face "Oh wow, yes it is honey" Your mom pauses for a moment and smiles "Well hasn't he grown" You look at her, she has a smug smile on her face "I almost didn't recognize him, he chopped all his hair off" you point out. "why don't you go out and say hello" your mom says with a grin. "I haven't seen him since I was 8 mom, he probably doesn't even recognize me, and take that smile off your face he definitely is not my type," you say as you both laugh, your mom walks away as you continue to stare out the window for a moment noticing a cute boy standing next to Jacob. You used to live in Forks when you were young and just recently moved back but you didn't have many friends besides Jacob, so you still consider yourself the new girl in town.

As you finish cleaning up the store you look down at your watch 6:00pm. "Oh shit, I gotta get going," you say to yourself. You grab your bag and your keys and lock up the store. From the distance you can hear a group of people laughing and talking loudly, you look up and see Jacob and his friends walking down the street coming towards you. You turn and start walking to your car not wanting to run into them, you aren't sure if Jacob remembers you and you can't decide if that's a good or a bad thing yet. As you are walking you hear your name being called 'Y/N?" you hear from behind you "shit" you think to yourself. You slowly turn around and see Jacob running up to you he has a big smile on his face and his thoughts are confirmed when you turn around "I knew it! I saw your mom coming out of the bookstore earlier and recognized her immediately, when did you get back in town?" he says with the smile still on his face you can see his friends in the distance talking amongst themselves, "Jacob, wow so good to see you" you say with an awkward smile "We moved back about a week ago, I figured your dad would have told you I'm pretty sure my dad and yours caught up a few days ago" you say with a bit of confusion "Yeah my dad and I haven't been talking much recently" Jacob says making the mood shift " Anyways your mom opened up a bookstore, that's so cool" He says obviously trying to change the topic "Yeah its always been a dream of hers so it's pretty nice we finally get to do it" you say smiling "Thats great, I'm really glad your back in town, hey my friends and I are planning on going down to La Push to have a bonfire, do you want to come? Maybe we can catch up?" he says looking at you eagerly. you hesitate for a moment thinking it over "Uh, yeah sure that sounds like fun" you say with a small smile "Great, come at any time we're heading out there in an hour" He says excitedly "Okay, I'll see you there" you say turning around and getting in your car not noticing the eyes on you as you drove away.

You're in your room getting ready, it's a chilly night so you throw on some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a zip-up jacket. After you finish getting ready you grab your keys and hop in your car. When you arrive at La Push you see the big fire in the sand and tons of people surrounding it. "Woah, I didn't think it would be that many people" you mumble to yourself, regretting saying yes. You get out of your car and see Jacob approaching "Hey! Glad you could make it, follow me" he says and you start walking together. He introduces you to a few people and you start talking with a guy named Quil, as you guys are talking another guy comes up to you. You realize it is the guy you saw earlier, as you make eye contact his face goes from smiling to completely awestruck. You stand there confused as he just stares at you for a moment before excusing himself and basically speed-walking to the house away from everyone. You turn and look at Quil confused "What's his problem" you ask genuinely Quil looks at you and tells you he will be right back before turning and walking to the house. You look around and lock eyes with Jacob, he walks over "What happened?" he asks me confused "I don't know, Quil and I were talking and then one of your friends walked up not even saying anything, and then ran to the house" a look of understanding crosses Jacobs face " I will be right back I promise" it seems like hours but it's more like a few minutes of sitting on one of the rocks watching the fire burn as everyone else is drinking and having a good time. You were about to stand and leave when Jacob came up to you "Hey, I'm sorry about that. He's just a little drunk don't worry about it. Everything is all good" Jacob says but you can tell something is off. Jacob still has the same lying face as he did when you were eight so you aren't easily convinced but decide to let it go. You and Jacob sit in awkward silence for a while until Quil comes back. "Hey, what are you guys talking about" Quil says in a much too cheery mood considering what just happened, "Nothing much, we're just enjoying the scenery" Jacob responds obviously trying to make it seem as though this isn't the weirdest interaction in the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone walking up to you and turn your head, it is the same guy. "Hey guys" the man speaks to Jacob and Quil seeming perfectly fine now, with not even a hint of awkwardness, again acting like nothing happened. Suddenly, he turned to face you "I'm sorry about earlier, I don't know what got into me," he said a bit shy " I'm Embry, what's your name?" there was a spark in his eye as he spoke to you, like he already knew the answer, like he knew everything about you, like it was his life mission just to speak to you. "Don't worry about it, it happens," you say politely "My name is Y/N" his eyes perk up a bit at that. You don't know who he is and why he's acting so strangely but damn is he hot. Without your knowledge, Quil and Jacob left as you and Embry were talking. Now you were stuck, not that you minded having to talk to Embry, but something about him seemed off. "So I heard you just moved back here from (insert city/state name)?" Embry questioned "Yeah, My mom got her own bookstore and my dad got a new job that allows him to work from home so we decided to come back," you say as both of you start walking to a more secluded area of the beach "Are you happy to be back?" he says with a bit of hesitation, he's not trying to push any boundaries, it seems like he genuinely wants to get to know you "Yeah I'm pretty happy about it, I've always loved cold and rainy weather," you say making Embry laugh a bit "What?" you say looking at him with suspicion but a hint of amusement on your face "Nothing, nothing it's just not every day you hear someone actually enjoying that type of weather, it's my favorite too" he says blushing a bit as we come to a stop near the ocean. We've walked pretty far and we can only see the smoke from the fire rising above the rocks. "Y/N I need to tell you something," Embry says nervously.

#embry call #embry call x reader #twilight #embry call imagine #jacob black #part one of two #twilight imagine #twilight saga #new moon #sam uley #the twilight saga #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolves #forks washington #jacob black imagine #jacob black x reader #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote #la push #wolf pack #part one

[producedbyhanjisung]

⎯ N'OUBLE PAS DE VIVRE. christopher bahng chan

🎧 : bang chan x female reader

TROPE. streetracer!au, fake dating au

WORD COUNT. 5.9k

WARNINGS. drinking, mentions of drugs, illegal activities, streetracing, smut

PARTS. one, two, three

SYNOPSIS. y/n, new to seoul, south korea, has yet to find the crowd she wants to roll with. that is, until she hears one of her best friends babbling about the hottest topic of the city - the streetracers. specifically a group known as "stray kids". when y/n finds herself in the backseat of one of the racers' cars, she is thrown unexpectedly into a world much different from the one she was raised in - and perhaps has found the crowd she wants to roll with.

SMUT WARNINGS. kind of dirty talk not really, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving) (there will be more in the other parts)

n'ouble pas de vivre. ⎯ don't forget to live.

"What if I told you that I fucking hate you?" You glance over at your father, eyes lidded. You know you're high out of your mind, and you know that you don't really mean it - you haven't meant anything you've said in the past three hours.

"You don't hate me." Your father flips the page of his book absentmindedly, practically ignoring the fact that you're screaming in his face.

"I hate you!" You yell, and as if trying to make your point, you smudge the end of your cigarette on the wall. Part of you hopes that your father will stand up and reprimand you - the other part hopes you can continue getting away with your outrageous behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Y/N?" He finally looks up, locking eyes with you.

"You tore me away from my home," you say finally, sitting down against the wall. "I want to see my mom."

"You know damn well where your mother is." A flash of anger tears through your father's face, before quickly fading. He composes himself, straightening his suit. "Your mother is dead, honey."

You realize that you're crying now, but you couldn't give less of a fuck. Your father - this man who you've never met before in your life - has never chosen to care about you before the death of your mother. Why on Earth would he choose to care now? What was so important that you had to pack yourself up from New York and cross the fucking world to get to Seoul, South Korea?

"Fuck you!" You yell, standing quickly and moving through the hallway, up the stairs and to the bedroom that you've never slept in before. This is not your childhood bedroom, or the one that your mother always kept ready when you were away at college, or even the one at your ex-boyfriend's house - what on Earth were you going to do without Soobin here?

Some deep, hidden recess of you understands that this situation isn't your father's fault - in fact, you're sure he'd much rather be out partying and bringing home anyone he pleases than babysitting for an eighteen-year-old walking depressive episode. You know that he doesn't want you here, and you don't want to be here either.

So why won't he let you leave?

The thoughts make their way hurriedly through your mind, as though they're late to a business meeting in some other deep cavity of your skull. Soon, the rushing puts you to sleep, and you're left to dwell alone in your subconscious.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☆⭒

When you awaken again, it's nearly six am. With class two hours later, you get up slowly and get ready for your day, brushing your teeth and donning your clothes that look much too American for your liking.

"Can we pick up Soyeon?" you ask as you exit your father's house, looking over at his private driver, who just bows and nods at you. You're at Soyeon's apartment fifteen minutes later, and the pretty blond grins as she jumps into the backseat of the sports car with you, clutching her bag.

In your entire two months living in Seoul already, you've made all but one friend - Jeon Soyeon. An aspiring underground rapper with a taste for expensive sunglasses. She splays out across the backseat, letting her legs drape over your lap as she hangs her head out the window. "How mad was your dad last night?" she asks, tilting her head at you as she swings her head back in to examine your face.

"Not mad," you say, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. You catch a glimpse of the driver wrinkling his nose, but you ignore it, taking a drag and blowing a puff of smoke at your friend's face. "He wasn't upset at all until I brought up my mom. I don't think he cares that I was smoking and stuff."

Soyeon pretends to pout. "You're lucky. My mom is such a cunt about all that stuff. 'That shit kills you, Soyeon.' Like I don't wanna die already!" she giggles, and you can tell that even now, at seven-thirty in the morning on a random Tuesday in March, Jeon Soyeon is high out of her mind.

"I'm so glad we ended up in the same psych class," she says, bloodshot eyes glancing up at you. "Life would be so boring. All those fucking do-gooders are fucked."

"You're fucked," you say, pushing her playfully.

"So are you, bitch!" she laughs.

Not long after, you've arrived at the university that the two of you take classes together at. You get out of the car, shouldering your bag and stepping out onto the green, Soyeon following behind you. Around you, students bustle around, lounging between classes, hand-in-hand with their lovers, trying to run from a one-night-stand without being seen. You smile as a girl runs from bush to bush, trying to fix her mousy hair and hide the fact that she's still wearing the dress you saw her in at the party last night. In fact, you remember taking off that dress. You wonder how she ended up at someone else's dorm.

Soyeon hardly notices anything, running a little ahead of you and jumping into a much-too energetic cartwheel.

"Who'd you end up going home with last night?" you ask her, jogging a little to catch up.

"Some guy. Chi . . . Ji-something? . . . no . . . Sung? . . . Jisung? I think that's what his name was."

You nod. "Was he nice?"

"He was cool," Soyeon says. "I've seen him and his friend a few times at the rap shows. Sometimes one of them gets up and does a little freestyle. He's pretty good. He's part of a street racing group though, did you know?"

"Street racing?"

"Come on, don't tell me they don't have street racing in America."

"No, they do, it's just like not something that happens a lot. And most American street racers don't go to prestigious universities, either."

"Haughty haughty." Soyeon wiggles her eyebrows at you, nudging you gently. "Most stoners don't go to prestigious universities either. And here we are, strolling into a fucking psych lecture in a prestigious university."

You take your seats beside each other, waiting for the lecture to begin.

"You should come with me. Jisung asked if I wanted to come see a race tonight. He said I could get a backseat pass and everything." She winks at you, and you shake your head knowingly. "Seriously though. It could be fun! Maybe you'll find your new calling."

You roll your eyes. "I'd rather not," you say.

So, how exactly did you end up here, fourteen hours later, sitting in a crowded back-alley dotted with girls showing too much skin and guys showing off their fancy multi-colored cars.

"This doesn't seem like a street race," you tell Soyeon, fixing your dress. It's practically vanta black and too short, but Soyeon said it complimented your figure and you didn't want to fight with her.

"That's cause none of the big leagues have shown up yet. These are all just bozos who get off on girls in small tops."

"You do realize that you're a girl in a small top, right?" You glance over at Soyeon, who is dressed in a flattering bikini top and jean skirt, showing off her delicate body.

Soyeon turns around and wiggles her ass at you. "Damn right I am." She stands back up, ignoring the whistling and claps that erupt around us at her little display, and leads me over into a semi-vacant corner of the lot. "Look, they're starting to show up. I'll give you a rundown of the big groups, yeah?"

You nod, looking around.

"See them, over there? The four girls? That's Blackpink. Their racers are Lisa and Jisoo - some of the best girls in the league." She points off at a group of four girls, standing beside two cars - one black and one pink.

"Them? Ateez. Hongjoong is in charge of them, I think, but he doesn't race." She continues rattling off names that don't mean anything to you - Itzy, Seventeen, Le Sserafim, P1Harmony, and a few others. Finally, she pauses. "Look, there's Jisung. He's with Stray Kids."

"Stray Kids?"

"Mhm. They're at the top right now. Four racers, four mechanics, but they practically all do everything. Look, those four are the racers. They have names, I'm sure, but everyone calls them by their racer names. J.One - that's Jisung - and Spear.B and I.N. And that's CB97. Jisung, Changbin, Jeongin, and Chan."

"Chan is cute."

She looks over. "You think so?"

You nod, watching him. His hair was short-ish and hung in dark curls that framed his face nicely. He had a piercing on his nose, and wore a fitted black shirt and jeans that looked way too big for him. Even so, it was clear he was ripped, and held himself with confidence, even amongst the rest of his team.

"You and every other girl here," Soyeon says. "He graduated from the school we're going to last year."

You nod again, hardly able to form words as you watch his graceful movements. You barely pay attention as Soyeon spouts off the rest of the members, then drags you over to say hi to Jisung, who grins and kisses her on the cheek as the two of you come up to them.

"Who's this?" he asks, turning to you.

"Y/N," you say, bowing slightly.

He laughs. "None of that, let's be informal. No one here gives a fuck. Soyeon, can you come help me with something?"

Soyeon nods, giggling and blowing you a kiss as Jisung whisks her away.

"Great," you say quietly to yourself. "Alone."

"Not alone," says a deep voice behind you. You turn, finding yourself face to face with none other than CB97 - Chan.

"Oh, no?" you ask. "I look pretty alone to me."

He shakes his head, leaning against the car. "I'm here, aren't I?"

You nod, trying to hold back your urge to scream and kick your feet like a little kid. "I suppose so."

"American?"

You sigh. "Mhm."

"We can speak English then, love." You look up quickly as the boy switches from Korean to English, what sounds like an Australian accent layered thick over his pretty voice.

"Oh, okay."

"Ever been to one of these before? Races, I mean."

You shake your head. "First time. My, uh, my friend dragged me out here actually. She's with Jisung, I guess? They went to go work on something together."

Chan shakes his head. "Of course they are. Soyeon is your friend? She's trouble."

You nod. "Tell me about it."

"I'm Chan, by the way. Bang Chan. Everybody around here calls me CB97 though."

"Do you want me to call you that?" you ask, looking up at him.

"You can call me Chan, pretty girl. Now, do you have a name? Or should I just keep calling you pretty girl?"

"Pretty girl works for me." You smile. "My name's Y/N though."

"Y/N." He mutters the name over and over, as if turning it over like a coin in his mind. "Cute."

"Thanks."

"Chan!" You both look up at a redheaded boy who called his name, waving him over to a deep purple car.

"That's my queue." Chan winks at you. "Here, um, can I have your number?"

"I, yeah, do you have any paper or something to write it on?"

"CHAN."

"I'm fucking coming, Minho." Chan presses his hand to his temple, eyes closed. He turns back to you. "Let me grab my phone, it's just in my car-"

"Ten, nine, eight . . ."

"You know what? Fuck." Chan practically manhandles you over to his car, opening the backseat and basically tossing you in before getting in the driver's seat.

"What the fuck?" you snap, sitting up as the door is closed behind you.

"Hang on," Chan says softly, and you watch his eyes flit around the dash, searching for problems with his car. He drives slowly up to a white line in the road, lining up with three other cars. You don't recognize either of the drivers on the other sides of Chan. "Come up front," Chan says quickly, patting the passenger seat. "Quick."

You do as he says, climbing up to the passenger seat of the car and buckling your seatbelt quick.

"I hope you don't get motion sickness." He tries to joke, glancing over at you. You glare at him. "Look, I'm sorry. I really didn't want to lose you in the crowd or anything and I couldn't find my phone and I didn't have enough time, so I just- I don't know. I just brought you in here with me. I'm sorry."

You sigh. "I can't even pretend like I'm upset. You're really fucking hot. You know what they always say: n'ouble pas de vivre."

"What is that, French?"

"'Don't forget to live.' Yeah, it is."

"I've never heard that before."

"It's basically like saying 'fuck it' to the world."

"Maybe I like that saying. Look, if you wanna get out-"

You look over at him. "Hell no. I have too much social anxiety to walk off the track like that."

Chan cracks a smile. "Then buckle up, sweetheart."

"I'm buckled."

He reaches over, and you find your heart pounding in your chest as he tugs on your seatbelt, making sure it's tight. "I'm not stopping once we start," he says. "This race is important."

"I wouldn't expect you to." You flash him a smile. "Relax. It's cool."

"You say that now," he says, cracking his neck in a jerky movement.

You roll your eyes, slumping back in your chair. In front of you, a tanned woman wearing hardly a bikini steps out in front of the cars, holding a red flag in each hand. She raises the flags, and Chan tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

The woman raises both flags. You hardly see her drop them before Chan's foot is all the way down on the gas, propelling the car forward. You let out an involuntary yell, and you catch Chan grinning out of the corner of your eye.

The race is over as soon as it had begun. Chan won - not surprising, considering the reckless way he drove - and looked over to smile at you as you pulled back into the lot. "Enjoy it?"

"I'm never ever getting in a car with you again."

He snorts a laugh. "I liked the part when you were screaming."

"What, the entire time?"

"Something like that."

"Don't you have to go greet your adoring fans?" you ask, only half joking.

"I'd much rather sit in here and talk to you."

You pretend to run your fingers through your hair to hide the smile that flits across your face.

"Do you live anywhere around here?" he asks.

You shake your head. "Other side of the city."

Chan presses his lips together. "It's getting pretty late . . . my apartment is close by. If you wanted to, you could stay there for the night. I have a feeling your friend will end up there too."

"You share an apartment with Jisung?"

He nods. "Jisung, Hyunjin, and Changbin. Loud fucking group."

You smile. "That sounds nice. You're not gonna like, kidnap me and eat my kidneys are you?"

"If I wanted to kidnap you, I'd have already had plenty of opportunities for it. As for eating your kidneys, I can't promise anything." Chan looks over at you with an expression that sets your heart pounding in your chest.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that, you freak."

The name calling is playful, but Chan pretends to be offended, opening his mouth in feign shock. He moves to say something, but he's interrupted as a pretty boy with longer hair knocks hard on his window, making a disgruntled face and pointing for Chan to unlock the door.

"Hey, Jinnie. This is Y/N, have you met her yet?"

The man shakes his head, then bows a little at me. "I'm Hyunjin."

"Nice to meet you." You smile at Chan's roommate.

"She's coming back with us tonight," Chan tells Hyunjin. "Her apartment is across town, so I figured that would be fine."

"Sure, like Jisung and Soyeon won't be loud enough as it is."

"We're not going to fuck, asshat." Chan pulls Hyunjin's beanie off his head, getting out of the car to dance around him playfully. You get out too, laughing at their antics.

"You have any more races?" Hyunjin asks as he snatches his beanie back.

"Not tonight. Do the others?"

Hyunjin shakes his head. "I'm gonna head back now. Let the others know."

Chan nods. "We'll be there soon."

For the remainder of the evening, Chan's arm is locked around your waist, keeping you close to him, as though you getting in the car with him was some sort of unspoken oath that you would be by his side the rest of the night. He takes you around to meet the other members of his crew, then a few others. You recognize a few from Ateez, who Stray Kids seem to be particularly close with. Finally, Chan announces that the two of you are leaving. Minho and Felix are quick to catch up to Chan and you, asking if they could catch rides with Chan.

As you approach his car, you move to get in the backseat, expecting one of the other boys to take their position next to Chan. You jump a little as Chan grabs your wrist, opening the passenger door for you.

"Well I'll be damned," Felix says, grinning at the display, "Channie's whipped for you, Y/N, you should be proud."

Minho grunts in agreement from the other side of the car. Chan rolls his eyes at both of them, helping you in the car then going over to his side and getting in.

The ride back to their apartment is talkative, with Minho and Felix telling you embarrassing stories about Chan and cracking jokes from the backseat, with Chan occasionally chiming in to make fun of them too. He keeps looking over at you, like he's checking if you're safe, even though you're no longer doing eighty on a city road.

You finally pull up to a nice-looking apartment building, and everyone gets out. You follow the three boys to the seventeenth floor, to apartments 17A and 17E, which are each across the hall from each other. Chan bids goodnight to Minho and Felix, who enter 17E, and unlocks the door to 17A, smiling at you. "Tired?"

"Not particularly, why?"

"'Cause I can smell the weed that Hyunjin got out."

The rest of the night is a blur, filled with smoking and weird pastries that Changbin practically pulled out of his ass and really good music that, apparently, Chan likes to make.

The next morning, you wake up in Chan's bed with a raging headache and only half dressed. Chan is sitting on the floor, reading a book. You mumble something inaudible, and he turns to look up at you.

"Morning," he says, smiling as he shuts the book and moves to sit next to you on the bed. "How do you feel?"

You groan, mashing your head into the pillow.

"Yeah, I figured as much. Here, take some Tylenol." You don't even look at the pill and cup of water Chan hands you as you down it.

He runs a hand through your hair, looking down at you. "Take your time, pretty girl. I'm in no rush, and I have a feeling you aren't either."

"Thank you," you say, reaching up to gently trace patterns on his wrist.

"You know, it's funny."

"What is?"

"We met each other last night."

You open your eyes. "What?"

"It seems like we've known each other forever, don't you think?"

You blink, sitting up a little. "Yeah, it does, honestly."

He smiles. "I guess that's good, right?"

You nod, looking around. "Is this your room?" There's posters of bands and cars on the wall, a collection of CDs and vinyls littering his half-open closet, and a rack of clothes waiting to be folded.

He nods. "Sorry, it's kind of messy."

You shake your head. "It's homey. I love it."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

"You could come over a lot more, you know. I like having you here. It was nice sleeping next to someone for a change."

You look up at him, eyes widening.

"What, you didn't expect me to sleep on the floor, did you? Not even for you, pretty girl."

"Stop calling me that, it doesn't apply in this situation."

"Yes it does." Chan rolls his eyes, touching your face tentatively. "You're absolutely gorgeous. Even with your makeup everywhere." He laughs softly, running a thumb under your eye to collect the bits of mascara that came off while you were sleeping.

"Thanks," you mumble.

"Come on, I'll help you up. Hyunjin made waffles for everyone."

You let Chan lead you into the main section of the apartment, where Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Soyeon are all sitting around a table, looking out the window over Seoul.

"Morning," Chan says, making his way to the kitchen part of the room.

A round of "morning"s chorus from the other side of the room.

"I'll get you some, go sit," Chan tells you as you join him in the kitchen. You do as he says, moving over to the couch to sit next to Soyeon, who's wearing a sweatshirt you've never seen before.

"Where's that from?" you ask. "It's cute."

"It's mine," Jisung says, smiling. "I'm glad you like it."

Soyeon nods. "How was it with Chan last night?"

"I have no idea," you tell her. "I have no memory of last night past taking the blunt from you."

She grins. "He was pretty adamant about you guys not having sex."

"I don't think we did, actually. I was fully clothed when I woke up."

"That's a good sign," she says, nodding solemnly. "I wasn't, so . . ."

You push her playfully, laughing.

Chan finally joins you all on the couch, grinning as he hands you a plate of waffles. As you move to take a bite, you're surprised by the sound of the doorbell. Hyunjin jumps up to get it.

"Chan!" he calls from the front of the apartment. He darts back into the living room. "It's your mom!"

Chan blinked once, then twice. "My mom?"

"Dude, she's right outside!"

"Fuck!" Chan says. "Y/N, I'm about to ask you something that you might not want to do, and you totally don't have to. My mom texted me last night to ask where I was and I told her I was out with my girlfriend. Is there any way you could, maybe, like, pretend to be dating me?"

You stare at him. Is this not something out of those romance books you read when you were younger? And Chan, the super mega hot street racer wanted this?

"Yeah, of course," you say.

"Okay." Chan breaks into a smile, and you hear Hyunjin let his mom in.

Everyone stands up, moving towards the door as a short, pretty woman enters. Chan steps forward, pulling her into a tight hug. "Mom! Why'd you come up, I thought you were gone visiting Hannah?"

"His sister," Changbin mouths to you, and you nod.

"I thought I'd take a layover in Seoul on my way to LA," the woman says, smiling.

"How long are you here for?"

"Two days. Now! Enough about me! Where's that pretty girlfriend you were telling me about?"

Chan laughs, nodding. He turns and takes your hand, pulling you forward next to him. He wraps his arm around your waist, kissing your forehead. "This is Y/N, Mom."

Chan's mom takes your hands in hers and smiles at you. "You're gorgeous, darling, I can see what Chan has been saying about you."

You look over at him for a split-second, then back at his mother. "Thank you so much." You smile.

She pats your face, then looks up at Chan. "And you dilly-dallied with that Libby for so long. I can't believe this beautiful woman wants to be with you."

"Mommmm," Chan says, groaning.

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to drop by. Would you all like to come out with me for dinner tonight?" his mom asks. "You can ask the other boys too, I know you eight don't like to go places without each other. And Y/N, you're welcome to come as well. And um, you dear." She smiled and bowed a little at Soyeon, who blushed and bowed back.

"We'd love to, Mrs. Bahng," Jisung says.

Everyone shares a few more goodbyes before Mrs. Bahng exits, leaving the six of you.

Chan turns to you immediately. "You're my literal savior, thank you so much. I mean, seriously."

"You should give her some better thanks than that," Jisung says. "Y/N just saved your ass."

Chan looks down at you. "I'm sure we'll work something out."

You can't help but feel an explosion of butterflies in your abdomen. Chan's gaze is fairly seductive as he watches you, eyelashes fluttering. You look back up at him, lips curling into a smile.

Barely an hour later, Chan and you are sitting on the porch of the apartment together, smoking a blunt that Jisung pulled out of his sock drawer.

"You know," Chan says. "I could give you a better thanks." He looks over at you.

You're not sure if it's the marijuana filtering through your body, or if he actually is, but you swear you've never seen a hotter man in your life.

"Oh yeah?" you ask. "What did you have in mind?"

He looks over at you pointedly, as if letting you know with his eyes.

"What?" you ask.

"I could eat you out," he tells you.

You cough, a puff of smoke leaving your lips. "You could what?"

"That's what Jisung told me to do. I'm just following what he said. But I like you. You're pretty. Actually, you're super gorgeous. You might actually be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I definitely wouldn't mind eating you out. Or just kissing you. Or just touching your lips wouldn't be that bad either . . ."

You tilt your head, smiling as he rambles on.

Finally he pauses. "You're really pretty."

"You're pretty fucking hot yourself," you tell him, passing the blunt.

"You think so?"

"Have you seen yourself?"

He laughs. "I'm glad you think so, Y/N. You don't have to make up your mind about it anytime soon, just, like, let me know, you know? It's the least I can do."

"Actually, I have an idea," you say.

Chan looks up. "Yeah?"

"I've never had sex," you say bluntly. Then you pause. "With a guy, at least. And I'm not good at kissing anyways. Here's my proposal. I'll keep pretending to be your girlfriend for as long as it takes, but you have to teach me all this stuff. How to like, give blowjobs and such."

"You've never given a blowie before?" He looks up in surprise. "With your pretty lips?"

If this were any other man, you would've found that comment horrendous. But this was Christopher Bahng, so you were perfectly okay with it.

"Sure," he says at last. "That sounds like a fair deal. N'ouble pas de vivre. When should we begin?"

You shrug. "Whenever, I guess."

"Well, it's only fair you get something today, cause you directly helped me today," Chan says.

You giggle, starting to stand. "You want me to suck you off, Channie?"

He shakes his head, standing from his chair and pushing you back into yours. One hand presses your lower abdomen, pinning you in place while the other pushes your legs apart, spreading them as he gets on his knees in front of you. "I don't want that to be how we start. I wanna taste your pretty pussy."

You blush, not used to the foul language he's speaking, but writhe anyways as he rakes one hand up your thigh, gently tugging on the hem of your shorts. "Hips up."

You do as he says, lifting your hips for him to let him slide both your panties and shorts off. "The others-" you start to say, but Chan stops you.

"I've caught them in much more compromising positions," he says. "This is nothing, babygirl."

Babygirl. You're once again reminded of your new life motto: if this was anyone other than this man saying these things, you would absolutely die. But, because it's Christopher Bahng, you'll let it slide.

"It's not?"

He shakes his head. "Just relax, okay? Let me do it all, yeah?"

You nod slowly, letting him push your legs apart, leaving you bare to him - and anyone unfortunate enough to be on the roof of the building over. You hardly cared, however, because he looked up at you with a smug grin on his face, face slowly moving toward your cunt.

"Chan," you say softly. You're not sure what you're trying to say to him by saying his name, but he just shakes his head and delves between your legs.

You moan softly as his tongue flicks against your clit, and you feel one of his fingers running up your thigh, all the way to tease your clenching hole.

You moan a little louder as he kisses your pussy, running his tongue between your folds and all around, slowly letting a finger slip inside you. Before you know it, there are two inside you, gently massaging your g-spot, which he seemed to have no trouble finding.

There's a new sort of tension in your stomach, building up as he continues his ministrations. You feel his nose brush against your clit, pressing harder against it as he licks around your hole, working around his fingers. Without warning, you're cumming hard, shaking and moving to close your legs around his head. "Oh, baby," you hear him say, his voice teasing. "That felt good?"

Chan pries your thighs back open, fingering you through your orgasm as he watches your face in awe.

You slump in your chair as you come down from your high, and Chan smiles, standing. He helps you back into your panties and shorts, then sits you back down, smiling. "You look beautiful when you cum. I mean you look beautiful always, but like, particularly when you cum."

You blush, not expecting such a blunt compliment.

He continues on, much to your dismay. "You just looked so . . . fucked out, I guess. Like you were fucking ascending or something. You looked gorgeous."

"I'm glad you think so," you giggle a little. "Um, thank you for that."

"Anytime." Chan grins. "Literally, anytime."

You smile. "I'll let you know next time."

Chan nods. "So, um, I have a race tonight. Do you wanna come with me? I think the boys might stay back, and it's nice when someone rides shotgun."

"Sure," you say. "It was fun last time."

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☆⭒

That night, you find yourself standing in front of the mirror in Chan's room, with Soyeon sitting on the bed behind you. Chan is in the shower, playing some odd assortment of music, and you're trying to figure out what to wear to his race.

"When it comes to these things," Soyeon is explaining to you, "the sluttier, the better."

"Do I really wanna dress like a slut though?"

"Yes. Always."

You turn and look at what she's holding out to you. You unfold the first item - a low-rise jean skirt. "My whole ass is gonna be hanging out, Soyeon."

She shrugs. "I like your ass. Chan obviously likes your ass. You have a great ass. Let it free, mama."

"For the top?" you ask, rolling your eyes.

Soyeon chucks something at you.

"This is barely a top."

"Let your titties free!" Soyeon crows.

You giggle. "How much have you smoked so far tonight?"

She shrugs. "I lost count at six hits. Wanna make out?"

Chan walks out of the bathroom just as she says this. He pauses, looking at you, then at Soyeon. "Don't let me stop you, ladies." You hardly pay attention to what he says though, because Chan is shirtless. He has a towel draped around his waist, his dark hair is wet and curly and shaggy on his head, and his torso, good god. His torso is muscular and defined, with a full six pack, monstrous pecs, and muscular arms.

Soyeon stands, holding out the skirt and top to Chan. "Don't you think Y/N should wear something like this tonight?"

Chan tongues his cheek, examining the clothes. "I think Y/N should wear whatever she wants to wear. But, I think you'd look fucking hot in these."

"Seeeeeee, sweetie? I've got your back. Go put these on."

When you emerge from the bathroom after your changing, you feel like a different woman. Soyeon was definitely right about her outfit choice for you. A nice pair of heels, a low-rise jean skirt, a black halter top that hardly covers your tits. She ended up throwing a thong into the bathroom too at some point, which you now have pulled up past your skirt, hooking over your hips to show it off a little.

"You look hot," Soyeon says, a puff of smoke curling from her mouth as she speaks. Chan is waiting at the mirror, staring at you.

"You look pretty." He clears his throat. "Not pretty. Like, drop dead mega hot."

"Slutty, cunty, I love it!" Soyeon squeals and jumps up, grabbing your hands and pulling you in a circle.

"It's okay?" you ask.

They both nod aggressively.

"Come on, let's go ask the other boys how they like it."

You're surprised at how comfortable you are already in the apartment with the boys. Jisung and Hyunjin are watching TV on the couch, and you gladly give them a little spin to show off your outfit. Changbin is in his room, lifting weights, and he whistles at you, telling you how much cunt you're serving.

As you and Soyeon exit Changbin's room, Chan catches you in the hallway, arm looping around your bare waist. "I have something for you, if you want it."

You tilt your head, looking up at him as Soyeon continues back into the living room, leaving the two of you alone in the darkened hallway. "Oh?"

He presents a long golden chain from his pocket. "It's a belly chain. I thought it might suit the outfit tonight. And also, Soyeon told me you wouldn't wear it unless I gave it to you. So . . ."

You roll your eyes. "I would have worn it. It's pretty though. How . . . how do you put it on?"

"Turn around," he says. You do as he says, and you feel him loop the chain around your waist, clasping it at the back. "I like it," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "You really didn't have to dress up or whatever for tonight, but you look beautiful."

"Thank you," you say. "I figured Soyeon was right. I should try and fit in with the crowd there."

"Are you ready to go?"

You nod. "Ready when you are, racer boy."

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

this might end up becoming a series so lmk how you guys like it!!

#smut #stray kids #bang chan #skz #felix #han #lee know #seungmin #hyunjin #oneshot #street racer #street racer au #street racing #racecar #racer #stray kids street racer au #kpop #kpop street racer #fake dating #mutual pining #friends to lovers #angst #fluff #x reader #female reader #corruption kink #mind corruption #virgin!reader #virgin!female reader #jeon soyeon

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Spring Fling

(gif by @pedropascalsx. I've given up using Tumblr gif search)

Pairing: Marcus Pike x virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 19,228. Oops.

Warnings: Significant age gap (almost 20 years), college-age reader, sexual tension, mentions of: strained familial relationships, divorce, unhealthy breakups, stalker(ish) behavior (PAST), therapy. Virgin/inexperienced reader, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected PIV sex and a lot of it, comeplay if you squint, Marcus’s filthy filthy mouth, happy ending

Summary: When you and your friend, fellow pre-Law student Emma, plan to go to Washington DC for spring break instead of the typical beach destination, she makes plans for the two of you to stay with her estranged father for the week to save money on lodging. You never expected Emma’s father, a man she says she’s barely seen throughout the years, to be so sweet, so troubled, and so unfairly pretty. Neither did you expect for what you'd thought was a one-sided attraction to turn into a spring fling... or maybe something more.

A/N: I got an ask asking about 'Best Friend's Dad' Marcus Pike, so I now post a question to you, dear reader: What if Marcus Pike had a college-age kid from his first marriage, one that he'd entered into at a very young age because of an unplanned pregnancy? Anyway to find out the answer read this almost 20k fic LOL

Masterlist

"We should go somewhere for spring break."

Your friend and fellow pre-Law student at the University of Texas, Emma, laughs. "Go somewhere? Like what, the fucking beach? And with what money?"

"No, no beaches. Somewhere cool. Somewhere unusual."

"Like what?" Emma asks, shoving another handful of chips in her mouth.

"I've never been to Washington, DC," you comment thoughtfully.

"I thought every public school in the entire country went to DC at some point," Emma remarks. 

"I had the chickenpox."

"Ew."

"Do you think that would be fun? Going to the Capitol for break?" you ask.

"I guess," Emma shrugs. "It's better than going to writhe on the beach with fifty thousand wasted twentysomethings."

"There's still the issue of how to pay for a trip. For any trip. I think I could cover airfare, but a DC hotel? Ugh," you say with a groan. 

"I could put the hotel on my credit card and work a bunch of extra shifts at Pizza Express afterward to make up for it," Emma says. "But that would pretty much max out my card."

"I can look up the cheapest spots outside the city," you suggest. "And we can take the metro in."

"Outside the city isn't going to be much better," Emma remarks. "We could… nah."

You look up, curious. "We could… what?"

"Well, my uh, my dad actually lives in DC."

"Your dad?" you repeat incredulously. "You've literally never mentioned your dad. I thought he and your mom were estranged?"

"Sorta," Emma says. "The official story is that they married too young and eventually separated."

"...And the unofficial story?"

"My mom found out she was pregnant at nineteen, and my dad wanted to do the right thing, so he married her. But I guess they weren't right for each other, because they were already divorced by the time I was two."

"Do you see him much?" you ask.

"I used to," Emma says quietly. "But my mom was never really enthusiastic about spending much time together, so it wasn’t very often. And then he moved to DC when I was a junior in high school, and I haven't seen him since. He always sends me cards on my birthday and Christmas, though. And…" she suddenly blushes, looking down and away.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What, Em?"

"He pays for my tuition."

"What?!"

"Yeah, I've barely had to take out any loans. It's just for housing and stuff."

"You ass, you never told me that!"

"It's not common knowledge," Emma mumbles. "Besides, no one wants to admit they've got an absent, divorced father paying the bills."

"But you'd want to contact him for this? For a place to crash over spring break for a week?"

"He's nice," Emma says quietly. "I always got the feeling that he wanted to do his best by us."

"I mean, if you're cool with it, it kinda sounds fun," you admit. "Better than Galveston, anyway."

Emma laughs. "Yeah, way better than Galveston."

"Holy shit, Em, you can see the Capitol from here." 

The two of you had emerged from the underground tunnel of the metro station, trailing suitcases behind you, into what feels like the middle of the city itself. The busy street is flanked with large condominiums on both sides, with--unbelievably--a view of the Capitol building in the distance.

"I think it's this one," Emma says, squinting at the address on her phone and back up at one of the buildings. 

"How do we get in?" you ask. 

"He just said to text him," Emma answers. "Hang on." She taps out a message on her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. "And now we wait."

You barely have time to check your email before the front door opens and a man emerges, striding quickly toward the two of you. You think he's about to envelop your friend into a crushing hug, but he stops short, eyes wavering with uncertainty as he looks his daughter up and down. His hand reaches toward her arm, but he hesitates just short of touching.

"Emma," the man breathes, the emotion evident in his voice making you want to duck your head and turn away from the scene. 

"Hey, uh, Dad," Emma says, giving him a sheepish smile. "Been a while."

"It's been six years," the man says emphatically. 

"Yeah."

You watch as Emma's father's fingers twitch toward her. "C-Can I–" 

Emma shrugs. "'Course."

The man carefully steps forward and wraps his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. His eyes close, his eyebrows pull upward to reveal a deep crease in between them as he holds his daughter for apparently the first time in six years. This time, you do look away from what feels like surprisingly tender and private moment. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for your graduation," you hear him say softly. "I was undercover for a case, and… Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry. You don't know how badly I wanted to be there."

"S'okay," Emma says cooly. She steps back, and, for the first time, her father seems to notice you. 

"Hi," he says brightly, and his pained, heartfelt expression melts into an easy smile as he extends his hand to you. "Marcus." 

You don't know what you had been expecting. Maybe someone older. Maybe someone less… attractive. Not this frankly gorgeous man, with his boyish smile, pretty eyes that crinkle around the edges, slightly mussed brown hair that falls over his forehead, and the light smattering of facial hair that only seems to soften his features further. Not that he needed any help, in that respect. Slightly stunned, you step forward and take the man’s hand, trying not to trip over the syllables of your own name.

Marcus’s smile widens, and he repeats your name, which does nothing to quell the sudden burst of butterflies in your stomach–and are your palms sweating?

"Thank you for allowing us to stay for the week," you say politely, forcing yourself out of the trance.

"Not a problem," Marcus answers. "What a great destination for spring break! Whose idea was that?"

"Mine," you say with a little laugh. 

"My kind of girl," Marcus jokes. "Keeping my daughter out of trouble."

"Dad," Emma groans. "I'm not a kid."

"Well, last time I saw you, you were fifteen," Marcus says pointedly. "You're gonna have to let my brain do a little catch-up, here."

"Well, to start with, I'm not a beach party kind of person," Emma says. "I'm a nerd–y'know, being pre-Law and all."

Emma's father beams. "So I've heard. Well, I'm happy to host two nerds while they do a little sightseeing in the nation's Capitol. I can even," he adds with a conspiratorial smile, "give you a tour of the J. Edgar Hoover building. If–If you want," he finishes awkwardly, appearing hesitant and unsure again.

"Oh, cool!" you exclaim automatically, without thinking.

Marcus grins widely at your enthusiasm, and you find yourself staring at your shoes, biting your lip as you flounder under his attention. You're being weird. Stop it. 

"Y-Yeah," Emma adds, nodding hesitantly. "That would be nice... Dad. Thanks."

“C’mon,” Marcus says, grabbing both Emma’s bag and, before you can protest, yours. “Come on up. I ordered some pizza for everyone. You can get settled tonight and… go do whatever you two want to do in the morning.”

The two of you follow Marcus through the lobby and into the elevator. You can’t help but keep stealing little glances at him–the way his shoulders fill out the maroon henley he’s wearing over jeans, the way those shoulders taper down to narrow hips, the way he’s got the top two buttons of his shirt casually undone, showing you a hint of collarbone that has you damn-near salivating. Snap out of it. Oh, God, snap out of it. You’ve known the man for five minutes, and you feel like you’re losing your mind. It’s gonna be a long week if you don’t pull it together. 

Marcus opens the front door and gestures the two of you in before him. You stand awkwardly in the living room, looking around at the furniture and at the decor on the walls, looking anywhere but at your best friend’s dad, whose very presence seems to fluster you beyond all reason.

“I just have one spare room, hopefully you two don’t mind sharing…?” Marcus asks.

“That’s fine,” Emma says good-naturedly. 

“It’s just through here,” he says, walking past you. “I’ll set your bags down in there and show you around.”

The room is clearly his workspace–there’s a desk and a chair shoved into a corner to make room for a comfortable-looking guest bed. The side wall is covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and you subconsciously step toward them, eager to see what titles this man keeps on his shelves.

“Sorry, it’s kind of an… all-purpose room,” Marcus says sheepishly. “Bit cluttered.”

“I like it,” you murmur absentmindedly, still scanning the spines.

“‘Gardner’s Art Through the Ages’” Emma reads, crinkling her nose. “How many editions of this book do you have?”

Her father laughs. “It’s work stuff, mostly. Although there’s a few thrillers here and there. And some classics.” He approaches the shelves as well, and you can feel the hair on the back of your neck start to stand up on end at the sensation of his body hovering just behind you. You’re so… aware of him. You don’t know if it’s because Marcus seems to naturally command every space he’s in or if there’s something electric that’s pulling you toward him, but either way, your entire body feels as though it’s on high alert.

A sharp buzzing makes you jump comically, making Emma snort.

“That’ll be the pizza,” Marcus announces. “Be right back.”

You glance over at Emma, who is still staring disinterestedly at the bookshelves. “It’s a nice place,” you say conversationally. 

“Mmmhm.”

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma scoffs, waving her hand. “Just been a while. It’s weird. You know.”

“He seems nice,” you say.

“He is,” she remarks. “I told you he was. I just… don’t know him very well. Like he said, I haven’t seen him in six years.”

“Maybe this will be good, then,” you suggest. “Get to know him now that you’re an adult and all that.”

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

You look back at the shelves. Emma was right; Marcus does have an alarmingly large number of editions of Art Through the Ages. You furrow your brow.

“What does your dad do in DC?”

“Oh, did I not tell you? He’s in the FBI.”

You feel as though you’ve swallowed your tongue, but before you can garble out a response–something like, “Mmmgnnbbllgffnhh?”–you hear Marcus coming back.

“Get it while it’s hot!” he says cheerfully. “You guys must be hungry after traveling all day.”

“Oh wow, Dad, that’s… a lot of pizza for three people,” Emma says, her eyebrows raising in surprise and confusion.

She’s right–there are five boxes sitting on the small kitchen island, along with several options of drink.

“I had no idea what either of you liked,” Marcus reasoned. “So I got a few different options. Cheese, pepperoni, supreme, hawaiian, and some kind of vegan thing, just in case.”

“You know, you could have just texted,” Emma remarks, at the same time that you whisper, “Thank you.”

Marcus looks sheepish. “Wanted to surprise you. Anyway, dig in–there’s obviously a lot.” He laughs quietly to himself, grabbing three plates and setting them down on the counter. You grab three different kinds–supreme, hawaiian, and the vegan option, out of curiosity–and sit on one of the barstools opposite Marcus. Emma grabs two cheeses and sits down next to you.

“So,” he says after a few minutes of surprisingly companionable silence. “I know Emma is pre-Law. Are you pre-Law too?” he asks, looking at you with a friendly, curious smile. 

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, tight-lipped. You hate this conversation–the college-age version of ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Everyone asks the question with good intent, but it always leaves you in an anxiety spiral, an existential crisis, because no matter how many times you’re asked, you have absofuckinglutely no idea. 

“What kind of law do you want to go into?” This question is addressed more to Emma, who immediately launches into an explanation of Environmental Law and the impact of climate change on public health. Marcus nods eagerly, giving Emma his full attention as she talks, watching her with a small smile. 

“What about you?” he asks when she’s done, turning to you.

You gulp. 

“I don’t—I don’t really know. Not yet, anyways.” You brace yourself for the judgmental eyebrow raise, the well-meaning advice.

“That’s okay,” Marcus says, smiling. “No one says you have to have it figured out at… how old are you?”

“T-Twenty,” you mumble, feeling more naive and inexperienced than you ever have before.

“Nah,” Marcus says, shaking his head playfully. “No one has it figured out at twenty. And the people who think they do? They change.”

His eyes go far away for a split-second, and you wonder what he must have been like at twenty. Did he already have Emma at that point? Did he just find out that his girlfriend was pregnant? Was he panicking, trying to figure out how to make things work? You wonder what it was that he had wanted to do, and what he had sacrificed for Emma and her mom. You wonder if he had wanted the divorce, or if she had been the one to suggest it.

“Anyway,” Marcus says, casually waving a slice of pepperoni as he talks, “I mostly work with criminal lawyers. If that’s something you’re interested in, I could arrange a chat with someone this week.”

“Oh,” you say, too stunned to say anything else. “Yeah, maybe.”

Marcus shrugs good-naturedly. “Think about it,” he says, giving you another crooked grin. His eyes crinkle around the edges when he smiles, and it makes your stomach do somersaults. 

“Yeah,” you say again, a little breathlessly. Your next bite of pizza misses your mouth entirely, and you manage to stab yourself in the cheek with your slice, transferring a glob of tomato sauce onto your face in the process.

Emma laughs, and Marcus’s eyes glitter with amusement as you frantically reach for a napkin. 

“So you do, um… FBI stuff?” you ask him clumsily, trying to break the silence.

“Yep. FBI Stuff. Says it on my badge and everything.”

“Why do you have a bunch of art books?”

“I lead an international task force dealing with art crimes,” he answers patiently. 

“What constitutes an art crime?” Emma asks, her mouth full.

“Theft,” Marcus lists, “forgeries, black market sales, dealing in antiquities, looting of archaeological sites…”

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, a dopey smile on your face. Emma shoots you a funny look.

“So it’s like, nerdy FBI stuff,” she says.

“The nerdiest,” Marcus agrees, smiling.

“Do you still have a gun and stuff?”

“I do,” Marcus says carefully, frowning slightly. “It’s in the safe for the week, though, while you’re here.”

Your stomach flip-flops at the mental image of Emma’s dad holding a gun, those warm brown eyes dark with focus as he stares down… an art thief. Or something. 

“Enough about your old man,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “What are you two looking to do tomorrow on your first day in DC?”

“Think we’ll hit the museums,” Emma says. “Get them out of the way first. We want to see the Library of Congress, obviously. Plus walking around to all the monuments and stuff. Oh, and the zoo!”

“Do you want my advice?” Marcus asks, and you both nod. “It’s supposed to be unseasonably warm tomorrow, and sunny. I’d do the monument tour or the zoo tomorrow if I were you. Save the indoor stuff for the end of the week, because it’s supposed to rain.”

“Monuments it is!” Emma exclaims. “Hey, can I… can I use your shower? I feel kinda gross from the travel day.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus hops up, leading Emma over to the guest bathroom. You listen as he points out a stack of towels intended for the two of you during your stay, the extra shampoo he’d bought, the spare toothbrushes just in case… Eventually he returns, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking hesitant again.

“Thank you,” you say again. “You went through a lot of trouble, and–”

“It’s no trouble,” Marcus says quickly. “No trouble at all. I–I have to admit I was surprised when Em–when she called, but I’m–I’m more than happy to host you two for the week. It’s no trouble at all,” he repeats.

“Okay,” you say dumbly. You’re staring again, unable to help the way your eyes are drawn to the way his arms fill out the shirt he's wearing when his hands are in his pockets like that. 

"You alright?" 

Your eyes flit up to his at the question. He's looking back at you, his head cocked to the side as he watches you. And suddenly, you can just tell–you can tell that he knows how flustered you are in front of him. 

You nod rapidly up and down in response, not trusting yourself to answer.  

"Good. Had enough pizza?"

"Mmhmm."

"Anything else to drink?" he asks. 

"Got any beer?" you ask with a quirk of your eyebrow.

"You told me you were twenty," Marcus reminds you. 

"Oh."

"And I work for law enforcement," he says gravely. 

Oh. 

"Oh, f-fuck, I um… I was kidding. Holy shit. I'm sorry. Seriously, I'm not a-a bad… student, or anything. I swear, I–"

As you continue to frantically backtrack, you realize that Marcus’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. 

"Oh, you're funny. Real funny. Ha. Ha."

"Next you'll be saying I should quit my day job," he says, his eyes sparkling. 

"I'm not sure what kind of art… crime… solver… you are, but I have to believe you're a better agent than you are a comedian," you deadpan. 

"You can come to my stand-up show on Tuesday and see for yourself."

Your jaw drops before you realize Marcus's lips are quivering with the effort of keeping a straight face. 

"You're on fire, tonight," you say, rolling your eyes. 

"You'll have to forgive me," he says, a gentle, more wistful smile gracing his lips. "I don't have company often, and it's been even longer since I've seen–" his eyes flick to the bathroom door, and he looks troubled for a moment. 

"Strictly off the record, if you do want a beer, I happen to have some," he says, changing the subject and smiling back at you again. 

"Nah, I'll save that favor for later in the week," you tell him.

"Noted," Marcus replies. He's looking at you again, still. He seems to be one of those people who gives all of his focus to someone when they speak, and the attention is starting to overwhelm you. 

"Hey!" Emma calls from the guest bedroom. "I wanna get started early tomorrow. Those monuments aren't gonna monument themselves."

You laugh and roll your eyes. "That's my cue," you say with a little smile. "Gonna grab a shower myself and call it a night."

"If you need anything, I'm a room away," Marcus says, but it only serves to remind you that this man will be sleeping in the next room.

"Got it," you say, nodding thickly. "Um, good night."

"Good night," he answers softly. 

When you reach the bathroom door, you turn around again–you can't help yourself. 

He's still looking at you. 

"Get up!

"Get up!"

"GET–"

"Okay!" you whine, throwing an extra pillow in the general direction of Emma's voice. "Fuck. I'm up."

You throw on a pair of jeans and a faded tee, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stumble out of the guest room and into the kitchen, where Marcus hands you a cup of coffee, which you accept with a grunt.

"Emma warned me that you weren't a morning person," he says. 

"God, it's both of you, isn't it?" you grumble. "Morning people."

"I guess we turned out alike after all," Marcus says with a soft smile, watching as you take a grateful sip from the mug. "What's the first stop on the list?"

"I dunno, she's got it all planned out," you murmur. "Of like, seeing the farthest place first and working our way back."

"Sounds like a plan," Marcus says. "You two have fun."

"What are you doing today?" Emma interjects, coming into the kitchen, grabbing a bagel off of the counter, and stuffing it into her mouth. 

"Well, it's Sunday, so… grocery shopping," Marcus says. "Any special requests?"

"Filet mignon," Emma says. 

"You got it. Want some lobster tails as well?"

"Mmhmm."

"I was thinking more along the lines of spaghetti and meatballs. Anything else you ladies would like?"

Emma shuffles her feet, and you frown slightly. You've never known her not to immediately say what's on her mind–and clearly, something is. 

"What is it, Emmie?" Marcus asks softly.

"Do you remember that one time that we came to your family's for Christmas–I think I was maybe twelve?–and you made…"

"...Tamales?" Marcus asks, his eyebrows shooting upward. 

"Yeah," Emma answers, her voice smaller than you've ever heard it. "I still remember those. They were really good."

"Jesus, I haven't made those in…" he shakes his head. "I don't even know. But uh, sure. We can do that. Tamale night. It's a deal."

"Thanks," Emma says, smiling. "And… really? 'Emmie?' Dad, I'm not seven anymore."

"My mistake," Marcus says with a playful wink in your direction–which might make your heart stop. "You girls stay safe. Text if you need anything."

Marcus was right–the weather is beautiful today. It’s perfect for walking endlessly from monument to monument, which you do all morning. You try to stay focused–thoughtfully reading the names on the Vietnam War Memorial and not thinking about Emma’s dad, in the plain white t-shirt he had been wearing this morning, in the produce section picking out apples. Even worse, you try not to imagine the sight of him cooking tonight.

He’s becoming a bit of an obsession for you, you can admit it. You want to know everything about him–what his job is like, what he does on the weekends, what he likes to read, what he did in the past to alienate the mother of his child enough that he’s barely seen his daughter–who he very clearly cares deeply for…

As you walk around the Washington Monument, you can’t stand it any longer. 

“Sooooo. It seems like things are going well between you and your dad,” you say conversationally.

“How do you mean?” 

“Less awkward, I guess.”

“It’s not that we don’t get along,” Emma says with a shrug. “We always used to. Like I said, I always thought he was nice. My mom…” 

“She didn’t like him?”

“She didn’t want to be around him. I don’t know why. They tried to protect me from the messy parts of divorce, but part of that means that I have no idea what their history is. She never talked about it. Neither did he.”

“Huh.” You stare in silence at the large white obelisk. “I wonder what happened.”

“I thought about asking my mom,” Emma says. “Lots of times, but I never got up the courage.”

“You should ask him,” you say quietly. “I get the feeling he needs to tell the story.”

Emma gives you a funny look. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

You shrug. “I’m weird.”

“Fair.”

The two of you walk until it feels as though your feet are going to fall off. 

“My feet are going to fall off,” you announce. “Surely there are no more monuments in the entirety of Washington, DC.”

“We’ve still got the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.”

“Uggghhhh, how important can he be? He’s unknown.”

“This was your idea,” Emma points out. “Go to DC for spring break! Stay with my best friend’s estranged dad! Walk around and see all the monuments and shit!”

“Too many steps,” you groan. “They should all be concentrated in one square mile of land.”

“One more,” Emma promises. “And then spaghetti.”

“And laying on the couch watching TV,” you counter.

“And laying on the couch watching TV,” Emma agrees. “...And tomorrow we go to the zoo.”

“No!”

Marcus chuckles as you stumble into his condo just after six. You immediately collapse onto the couch with an exaggerated groan.

“I’m staying right here for the rest of the week,” you announce.

“It’s been one day,” Marcus points out. 

“My phone’s step counter measures over thirty thousand steps,” you mumble. “I’m done.”

“That’s a lot,” Marcus concedes. “Hopefully that means the two of you are hungry this evening.”

“Fucking starving,” Emma agrees, crashing onto the couch herself and nearly colliding with you as she does so. 

“Well, since everyone is so tired,” Marcus says, the playfulness evident in his voice, “I’ll make spaghetti and meatballs tonight. Tamales are a group effort, so you two better be ready to work for your food.”

“I shall endeavor to do so,” Emma remarks with an exaggerated accent, causing you to laugh giddily. 

While Emma’s eyes are closed, you take advantage, watching Marcus–still with that same fitted white shirt–in the kitchen, boiling water, heating the sauce, and adding the meatballs. He must sense your gaze, because he turns, a characteristic crooked smile on his lips as he acknowledges you. 

“I know they’re frozen,” he admits, speaking of the meatballs, “but they always taste the same to me anyway.”

“I can’t wait,” you say, truthfully. “It’s been a long day.”

As if to demonstrate the fact, a loud snore emanates from the body next to you, making you grin.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Marcus says softly. “I don’t often have the opportunity to cook for… more than one.”

“No girlfriend?” you ask conversationally. 

Marcus laughs. “I’m… in between things, I suppose.”

“In between,” you parrot with a laugh. “How long have you been ‘in between?’”

He huffs. “Too long,” he murmurs. 

“How come?” you ask quietly.

Marcus frowns, thinking. “I dunno. No one recently has been… exactly what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?” you ask breathlessly.

“Spaghetti,” Emma mumbles from the couch.

“Spaghetti,” Marcus repeats, giving me a slightly melancholy smile. “Exactly. Come and get it, you two.”

Emma stirs, stumbling into the kitchen where two giant bowls of spaghetti and meatballs are awaiting the two of you.

“Holy shit,” she remarks. “Thanks for this.”

“Of course,” Marcus says. “I would never agree for you to stay and then not…” he trails off, unsure of himself.

You’re starting to realize that the bulk of Marcus’s most emotional statements go unsaid. I would ever agree for you to stay and then not take care of you, is what he hadn’t said. 

“Still doing the zoo tomorrow?” he asks, changing the subject, as always.

“Yup,” Emma answers.

He huffs, smiling wistfully. “Been ages since I’ve been to a zoo.”

“D’you wanna go?” you ask, before you can determine that it’s a bad idea.

Marcus looks at you, indecisive for a few seconds before he seemingly comes to his senses. “Nah,” he says, grinning. “You two have fun.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asks. “Apparently there’s a new panda baby.”

“That’s a hard bargain,” he admits.

“You should come with,” Emma decides. “It could be fun.”

“All right,” Marcus agrees hesitantly.

“It’s Monday,” you point out. “Don’t you have to work?”

“I’ll call off,” he answers quickly. “Not everyday one’s daughter is in town for an impromptu zoo trip.”

“Look at the little lad,” Emma gushes. 

“The what?” Marcus asks. 

The three of you are staring at the panda enclosure, watching the newest addition to the zoo cause chaos.

“The chonky boi,” you agree.

“I have no idea what you two are saying,” Marcus admits. 

“The baby panda is cute,” Emma offers. 

“That I can agree on,” he decides.

The three of you, you’ve decided, make a good team. You try not to think about how your heart burns whenever Marcus looks at you, how your stomach does flips whenever he laughs. If you’re going to be a good friend to Emma–and you are–you’re going to have to put this silly crush aside and accept the fact that he’s a package deal with your best friend. 

That doesn’t stop the way the man looks at you, though. 

You think you’re imagining it, at first. After all, Marcus seems to be the type of person who focuses completely on whatever anyone has to say. The more you’re with him, though, it’s hard to deny that he seems to look at you just a tiny bit longer.

You start to notice it all day–when you’re looking at the exhibits, Marcus is looking at you. 

He’s watching your reaction to them–smiling when you smile, laughing when you laugh. You can’t parse out the meaning behind his actions–does it mean something? If so, what? What does it mean? 

You can’t admit the truth to yourself until you’re in the insect house. Emma is giddy with interest, and you… are trying. 

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks softly in your ear–and you try not to shiver.

“Great,” you squeak. “Just don’t love the bird-eating spider.”

“I don’t like them either,” he confesses with a smile. “Do you need to leave?”

“Idunno,” you mumble, slurring the words together. 

“Emmie,” Marcus announces, “we’re going to take a little break, okay?”

“Mmm.” 

You and Marcus escape into the bright sunshine, and you let out an awkward laugh. “I can’t believe they have some of them loose in there–without glass or anything!”

“I’m not going back in that building,” Marcus agrees, laughing with you. “The giant orb weaver was the last straw.”

“That was awful,” you say, nodding.

“Come to think of it, I might be more of a baby panda guy, myself.”

“I’ll take the snakes over this,” you agree.

You sit down on a nearby bench, still giggling together as you wait for Emma.

“Is it weird if I say I’m glad you came?” you ask quietly.

“I’m glad I came, too,” Marcus says beside you.

“I think–” you begin, but Emma emerges from the insect house, grinning ear to ear.

“You think… what?” Marcus asks, but you shake your head and shrug.

“I dunno,” you mumble. “I just… think.”

“Hey, wimps,” Emma shouts. “They let me touch the tarantula.”

Marcus takes the two of you out to dinner at a casual burger spot near his place. While the tension between him and Emma has lessened significantly since the first day, it feels as though it’s been replaced by a thick cloud of tension between the two of you. 

There’s something about the man that speaks to you, something within him that seems to vibrate on the same frequency as something within you. Twin souls, you’d say, if you were in a mind to be romantic, except… it can’t be. He must be nearly forty–and almost twice your age. There’s nothing you have that he would want–nothing you could offer a man who has his entire life together while yours has barely started.

Still, the way Marcus laughs at your jokes and gives you knowing glances–as if the two of you are sharing some type of inside joke that you’ve had for years–keeps you flustered and breathless throughout most of the evening.

The glass of wine he offers when you arrive home doesn’t help, either. You watch the red liquid swirl in your glass and wonder how it would taste from his lips, instead. And, when you’ve reached the bottom of your glass, the fuzzy-headed feeling you get from the alcohol combined with the way your stomach swoops in its place every time Marcus’s eyes meet yours has you feeling dizzy and enraptured in equal parts. 

When he locks eyes with you over the rim of his own glass as he drains the last sip, you freeze, afraid that you’d been caught out–that he can read every dumbstruck expression on your face and knows exactly what he does to you.

But all he does is shoot you a little smile, announce that he’s going to bed– “Back to work for me, tomorrow”–and leaves you in the living room alone with Emma, trying not to look as though you’re checking out her dad’s butt as he leaves the room. 

The next day, you and Emma spend most of the day at the Library of Congress while Marcus is at work. As a result, neither of you are too tired to help when Marcus suggests making the tamales tonight. 

“I’m going to preface this by saying I’m not very good at making these,” he says with a laugh as he struggles with the dough. “My grandma only made these on special occasions, and I’ve done it myself approximately two times without her.”

“Well, the good news is that I’ve got no frame of reference,” you tell him. “So as long as they’re edible, they’ll be the best tamales I’ve ever had.”

Marcus chuckles and ducks his head; you can see the pink tinge on the tips of his ears as he continues to stir the mixture.

“Emmie, do you want to do the dough or the filling?” he asks. 

“Filling.”

“That leaves you with the fun part,” Marcus says to you with a playful wink. “You get to spread the dough out on the corn husks like this–” he frowns as a glob of dough gets stuck to the spatula. “I told you I’m not very good at this. But you get the idea.”

You really don’t; cooking has never been your strong suit. You do your best to spread the dough out, but after just a couple of repetitions, your fingers, your shirt, and the counter around you are sticky with dough. 

“This is not going very well,” you mumble. 

Marcus looks up from the tamale he’s currently folding and laughs joyfully. “That’s part of the process.”

“I really don’t feel like it is,” you shoot back. “It’s sticking to everything but the corn husks.”

“Here,” Marcus chuckles. And suddenly, he’s right behind you, his chest nearly touching your back as he reaches around you to gently guide your hands himself. “Like this.”

You can’t possibly focus on your task, not when you have to remind your body to keep breathing while Marcus’s hands are on you. Your eyes stare unseeingly down at the corn husk until he releases you. 

“Better?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” you hum, abnormally high-pitched.

“You’ve got some on your cheek,” he remarks with a soft smile. His thumb gently swipes across it, catching the stray dough and wiping it on a towel. 

In the end, the tamales are hideous, but they taste incredible. They might be the best meal you’ve ever had–or maybe it’s just the way Marcus had smiled proudly at you when your technique improved after his intervention.

After dinner, the three of you sit on the small couch and watch a movie.

“It’s in black and white,” Emma remarks, wrinkling her nose.

“Double Indemnity? It’s a classic!” Marcus protests.

“Old movies are always so boring,” Emma says. 

“It’s not boring,” he pouts. “The unhappy wife of a wealthy oil baron starts a dangerous, illicit love affair with an insurance salesman, and they hatch a plot to murder her husband and collect the insurance money.”

“That’s wild,” you laugh. “How have you seen this before?”

“I’ve always been told I’m an old soul.”

“Are you sure you’re not just old?” Emma teases.

“Hush. Watch the movie.”

The film is engaging, but all of the walking around of the past few days starts to catch up with you about halfway through. Before you know it, your eyes are drooping, and your head tips back on the couch cushion as you start to doze off. When you wake, the credits are rolling, and you’re no longer upright on the back of the couch.

You’re drooling on Marcus’s shoulder.

You startle, sitting back up with a frantic gasp and wiping your mouth in horror.

“Shh,” Marcus whispers, placing a calming hand on your forearm. “Emma fell asleep, too.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you babble, taking in the little wet spot on his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures softly. “You’re tired. You needed the sleep.”

“Still,” you say. “I didn’t mean to…” you trail off awkwardly. 

“It’s okay,” Marcus repeats, even quieter still. His hand still rests on your forearm, his thumb subtly moving back and forth across your skin. 

Neither of you speak for what seems like an eternity, until finally, he breaks the spell.

“Should go to bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll wake up Emma. Go get some rest.”

“Marcus,” you whisper shakily.

“Go,” he whispers back. 

He squeezes your arm once, then releases you, and you reluctantly get up from the couch and cross to the guest bedroom door. You turn again, watching as Marcus gently smooths Emma’s hair back from her forehead as he rouses her from the couch. There’s so much tenderness in his eyes, and you wonder how much different he might be if Emma had been a more constant presence in his life. He seems so lonely–does he have friends outside of work, you wonder? Does he ever date? 

Emma sits up blearily and pads across the living room, walking past you and collapsing on the bed. You take one last look at Marcus, and follow her. 

The next morning, you feel as though you could cut the tension between you and Marcus with a knife. There’s something there–and you both know it. He seems to be doing his best to ignore it, avoiding eye contact with you, and busying himself with pouring a thermos of coffee and messing with his tie absentmindedly as he gets ready to leave for work. 

“Where are you off to today?” he comments lightly.

“Smithsonian,” Emma answers. 

“Sounds fun. I’ve got a deposition this afternoon that’s probably going to run late, so go ahead and grab something for dinner while you’re out. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

The only time Marcus’s eyes fall on you is in the moment just before he steps through the front door. He pauses, hand on the doorknob, and glances back in your direction, dark eyes watching you for a moment before he nods subtly and leaves.

It’s funny how just a simple, seconds-long moment of eye contact with this man can turn your insides to jelly. Your breath stutters as the door clicks shut, and you try to gather yourself again.

“What’s first?” Emma asks. “Natural History or Air and Space?”

You put Marcus out of your mind for most of the day, although he’s never far away; you’re able to call up the feel of his hand on your forearm at any given moment. You can imagine the burn of his eyes even as you walk through exhibit after exhibit.

True to his word, he’s not home for dinner. You and Emma grab sandwiches from a shop around the corner and eat them in the living room in front of the TV. It’s nearly seven when Marcus finally gets home, opening the door and greeting the two of you with a tired smile and a heavy sigh.

“How did it go?” Emma asks.

“Shit,” he answers, shooting her a crooked grin. “But I’ve got leftover tamales to look forward to, so the day is looking up.”

You watch another movie–Emma’s choice this time, and something a bit more current. You don’t fall asleep this time; you can’t, not with the way your body feels on high alert tonight. Marcus is sitting beside you again, as he was the night before, and all you can think about is how much you want to sink into his arms again–and this time, intentionally. You want to lay on his chest and have him wrap his arms around you; you want him to slowly turn and press you down on the cushions, to feel the weight of him on top of you, the light scrape of his beard on your neck, his breath in your ear.

A wave of arousal washes over you, heating your skin and sending a little trickle of damp into your underwear. You wonder if Marcus can feel it–feel the elevated warmth of your skin from where he’s sitting. You wonder if he can tell how much he affects you. 

When the movie ends, you can barely meet his eyes as you bid him goodnight, following Emma to your room. You can’t turn around to see if he’s watching you; you can’t stand another glance at that deep, burning gaze of his. 

Sleep evades you. You’re too hot, so you kick off the covers. Then you’re too cold, so you cover up again. You flip over the pillow, turn from your back to your stomach, and back again. The fantasy plays once more in your head: Marcus’s hand cradling the back of your neck as he kisses a path down your neck and to your chest. You want to feel the weight of him between your thighs, feel him pressing against your core. You’re dripping for him, and he doesn’t even know it. 

No one has ever done this to you, but he has. And he hasn’t even touched you. 

You wonder if he’d be bothered by the fact that you aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing in that department. You wonder if he’d be put off by your inexperience, or if he’d be happy to guide you in the act of pleasure. 

You’ve had a couple of fumbling encounters, rushed, frenzied moments as a teenager with boys who haphazardly stuffed a finger or two into you, but it didn’t feel like anything to you. Not really. No one has ever made you cum–just you, in the safety of your own bed at night, your fingers seeking relief that no one else has been able to provide.

Could he give it to you?

Your past experiences have been with boys; and Marcus is a man. 

Your legs shift, rubbing your thighs against each other as you try to find a more comfortable position.

You can’t find one.

Eventually, you give up–getting out of bed with a sigh. Maybe if you grab a drink of water and sit on the couch for a while, sleep will win out in the end. You pad into the kitchen, filling a cup in the sink and taking a few long sips. The cool water is a relief, so you run your hand underneath the water next and scrub it over your face. Finally sated, you set the cup down by the sink and turn.

To see Marcus sitting on the couch, dimly lit by the glow of his laptop screen.

You nearly double over with shock, the unexpected sight causing a spike of adrenaline to course through your body.

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “Couldn’t sleep, so I was… catching up on work.”

The mirror image of a popular news site reflects through the glass picture frame behind the couch, exposing the tiny lie.

“Yeah, me neither,” you admit quietly. “Thought I’d sit out here for a while and see if that helps, but… sorry, I’ll leave you to it.” You make to turn back, to retreat to the room again, but Marcus speaks softly behind you.

“Come sit,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

Breath caught somewhere in your throat, you hesitantly sink down on the couch beside him. Marcus closes his laptop and sets it down on the coffee table, and the silence stretches out between you. 

“So, are you liking DC so far?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer eagerly. “I’m having a great time. I’ll… I’ll be sad to leave,” you admit. “Is that weird?”

“It’s weird if you’re talking about missing the Washington Monument,” Marcus teases. “Or the traffic.”

“I’m talking about the metro, obviously,” you joke. “The rest of the country could stand for some public transit options.”

“I’m not sure they should be taking their cues from DC,” he chuckles. 

“Pssh, I like it.”

“The novelty wears off, believe me.”

You lapse into silence again. You’re sitting close enough to Marcus that you can feel the warmth from his skin, even though you aren’t touching. You want to sink into him, to have him envelop you, consume you.

You feel yourself unconsciously shifting closer to him. 

Is it just your imagination, or did Marcus subtly lean closer to you?

The pull is inevitable; your eyes flick up to his, and you can almost feel the point of no return pass the two of you by. 

You lick your lips, and his breath catches in his throat.

“I wasn’t talking about the metro,” you say breathlessly. 

“I know.”

And suddenly, his lips are on yours. 

It’s not fast, not rushed or frantic; he doesn’t surge forward to take you. It’s simply that the two of you are close enough that at one moment, Marcus Pike is not kissing you, and then the next moment, he is. 

As with everything this man does, the kiss is soft and tender. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and he gently tits his head as his lips move against yours. His mouth opens ever so slightly, and you feel a wave of pure want rush through you at the light flick of his tongue against your lower lip.

You make a ragged sound in your chest as your lips part for him, and your tongues slide against each other for far too short of a time before Marcus pulls back, suddenly, his eyes full of worry.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs. “Shit, we… we shouldn’t.”

This time, you kiss him back. The neck of his soft t-shirt crumples in your fist as you pull him closer, opening your mouth to him, and his protests die at the feel of your lips on his. Instead, it seems to light a fire within him; one hand curls around the back of your neck and the other grips your hip and you gasp softly into his mouth at the feel of his hands on your body. 

Marcus breaks the kiss again, but instead of pulling back to give you more reasons why you can’t, this time he kisses a path across your cheek and down your neck. You’ve imagined the way his light beard would feel against your skin so many times over the last couple of days, but nothing compares to the reality of having him gently scrape his teeth against your neck as you arch your back to him. 

“Fuck,” Marcus whispers. “So sweet, honey.”

You whimper at the term of endearment as Marcus gently starts to shift positions, turning and guiding you down onto the couch, just as you’d imagined. 

Now that you’re horizontal, the kisses that started out tender and sweet start to grow more and more lascivious. You can feel the weight of him between your legs and his hot length pressing against you, his hips rocking slightly as he lazily explores you with his hands and his mouth. 

One hand creeps up your inner thigh and slips under your thin sleep shorts and underwear, gently grazing your folds and feeling the obscene amount of slick that’s already gathered there. 

“Shit,” Marcus hisses softly, reverently. “You’re so wet. How are you so wet?”

“You,” you answer earnestly, staring up at him with wide eyes. 

He laughs breathlessly in response, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your nipples peeking through the threadbare material of your tank top. His finger explores deeper, slipping inside your tight channel and immediately finding… something… that makes you gasp raggedly. 

“So responsive,” he murmurs playfully. “I’ve barely touched you.” He starts to slowly pump his finger in and out, his thumb pressing on your clit as he rubs against that little spot inside of you every time, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and cling to him as this one little movement threatens to take you apart. 

“Honey,” he whispers disbelievingly as he feels you start to tighten around him. “Already?”

“I–” 

Whatever you had been about to say dies on your lips as you suddenly fall over the edge, shaking as the pleasure overtakes you. Marcus soothes you through it, whispering in your ear as you come down from your high.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”

Marcus pulls back and gives you a funny look. “What’s going on?” he asks, frowning slightly.

“Heh–you’re going to laugh,” you say, giving him an awkward grimace. 

He raises his eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’ve–kind of never done this before,” you admit, pressing your lips together sheepishly. 

“Oh shit,” Marcus breathes, sitting up fully as his eyes frantically sweep over you. “Oh, honey–no. I can’t–we can’t do this.”

“Why?” you ask, wincing internally at how whiny it comes out.

“It can’t–it shouldn’t be me,” he says softly. “That’s more than I deserve to take.”

“You’re not taking anything,” you protest. “I–I want it to be you.”

Marcus shakes his head again, but you can see the cracks in his resolve, the way his eyes are searching you, devouring you with his gaze.

“I don’t want it to be some boy at a frat party back home,” you tell him. “I want you. I want it to feel good. Please?”

Marcus’s expression is inscrutable as his eyes rake over your form, disheveled and sated, underneath him. Your heart sinks when he stands up, shame sinking down into the pit of your stomach, but then he extends his hand to you, and you look up at him, questioning. 

“I’m not going to let your first time be a quick fuck on my couch,” he says quietly and resolute. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to bed.”

Wordlessly, you accept his hand and allow him to pull you to your feet. You wobble slightly, still shaky from the orgasm, and Marcus draws you into his side, steadying you. He guides you forward, keeping you close as the two of you walk to his bedroom. 

Despite the fact that you were more than ready to let this man take you right there on the couch, the change in venue has your heart hammering in your chest. Now, it feels real. It feels intentional. 

“C’mere, beautiful,” Marcus murmurs when he feels your steps falter. His hand slides up your arm and across your shoulder until it curls gently around your neck, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface of your skin. He presses a couple of soft, chaste kisses across your opposite shoulder, and your lips part of their own accord. 

“I need you to tell me if you don’t want to do this,” he says softly in your ear.

“I want–”

“I know, I know,” Marcus interrupts. “I want you to tell me if that changes.”

He gently guides you onto his bed, one hand on the small of your back to keep you from going too fast. 

“I wanna know what you like,” he murmurs as he hovers over you again, his hand coming up underneath the thin material of your top. “I wanna know what you don’t like.” 

“I–I don’t really know–”

“I know,” Marcus grins wolfishly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s the idea.”

He starts to push the material of your shirt up, up, up, until your nipples are pebbling in the cool air of his bedroom. He gently pulls it over your head and casts it aside, looking down at you with undisguised hunger. He trails the backs of his fingers down the side of one breast and underneath. “I get to find out what you like,” he says. He circles one areola with the tip of his finger, making you shiver. “And I get to be the first to do it.”

He gently drags the pad of his finger across the little bud of your nipple, and you gasp for him as if you’d hit a live wire. 

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you liked that,” he teases. 

“Marcus,” you whine. 

“Shh,” he whispers again, just before his mouth engulfs your nipple. Your hand darts out unconsciously, tangling in the hair on the back of Marcus’s neck as you squirm under his hot tongue. You can’t tell whether you want to pull away or push toward him, but in reality all you do is whine and take what he gives you. He switches to the other one; lathing and flicking his tongue and pressing down until you whimper.

“So… fucking… responsive,” Marcus murmurs in between kisses as he starts to mouth his way down your belly to the band of your sleep shorts. His fingers dip underneath, poised to pull them down over your hips, but he waits–eyes flicking up to yours to gauge your reaction. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks quietly.

“I-If you want,” you laugh shakily. 

“If I want?” he parrots disbelievingly. “You’re saying that like it’s not a given–like I haven’t been thinking of burying my tongue in that sweet little pussy all night. If I want,” he chuckles to himself again, slowly dragging your shorts and underwear down your legs. “I need to taste you. I need to feel you fall apart on my tongue. The first one was kind of a surprise, and all I want is to feel you shaking again.”

You’re bare before him, but you don’t have any time to be self-conscious, because Marcus is laying back down on the bed, his face inches away from your pussy. He gently guides your legs over his shoulders before lowering his mouth to you. 

You aren’t sure who groans louder at the first touch of his tongue through your folds. 

Marcus makes a pained noise in his throat before murmuring, “So sweet, honey–fuck, you’re so sweet.”

His tongue is delicate, but precise; he flicks it back and forth against your clit, then dips down to lap at your entrance until you’re trembling for him. He’s tireless and patient, cataloging every whimper and moan he pulls from you as the pleasure slowly builds inside of you. In no time at all, you’re dangling on the precipice, your hips locking into place as you start to reach the point of no return. 

“I–I–” you stammer, trying to warn him.

Marcus hums enthusiastically in agreement, concentrating his efforts on your clit until you fall apart with a gasp.

He groans again, licking you through each little aftershock of pleasure until you’re boneless. 

“You squeeze me so hard,” he croons. “Can you feel that? You’re so tight around my tongue.”

“Shit…” you murmur. You’re too fucked-out to say anything else. 

“Gonna have to open you up a bit with my fingers,” he says softly. “So I don’t hurt you.”

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes. He’s still clothed–wearing sweatpants and a shirt, while you’re completely naked, and you frown slightly at the disparity.

“Everything okay?” Marcus asks, seeing your expression. 

“Can–Can I see you? You’re so… clothed,” you say with a little pout. 

He laughs, smiling widely so that the corners of his eyes crinkle, and your heart soars. 

“Of course,” he agrees, stripping off his shirt. “Of course.”

You raise up on one elbow, gazing up at Marcus’s broad chest, the light smattering of hair, and the soft swell of his belly. You can’t help but reach up and touch him, pressing your palm to his sternum and trailing down, tracing the little path of hair until it disappears under the band of his sweatpants. Your fingers curl underneath the band, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“These, too?” he asks with a teasing chuckle, smiling wider when you nod eagerly. 

His cock bobs free as he pushes his pants down his hips, and your eyes widen at the sight of him, thick and hard and heavy with want. Curiously, you wrap your hand around him, and you’re rewarded with a little ‘hnnngg’ of pleasure and surprise as you touch him. 

You gently trace the little ridges on his shaft, traveling up to the flushed, purple head, where the skin is even softer, and back down again.

“F-Fuck,” Marcus muttters. “Can’t do that too much, honey, or I’m gonna lose it before we even get started.”

“I like it,” you say with a little giggle. “I never realized they were so… soft.”

Marcus makes a broken, choked sound. “Jesus. You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

He falls onto one elbow, giving you a messy, passionate kiss before sucking his fingers into his mouth and gently sinking one finger into you again. His lips stay close to yours, noses almost touching, his eyes watching your face intently as he slowly opens you up. His fingers are so thick, and just like before, he seems to know exactly where to press up inside you to make the pleasure spark inside of you. He adds a second finger, and you whimper–you're already so full. 

"Little bit more," Marcus murmurs. "Doing so well for me–fuck–so tight."

He gently starts to slide a third into you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit to offer some relief.

“Is it greedy if I say I want you to cum for me again?” he asks softly. “I want to feel it again. Can you do that for me?”

You nod dazedly–wanting to do anything, everything this man asks as long as he keeps making you feel like this. 

His fingers press up against your walls again, and you sob loudly into the room.

Marcus immediately muffles the sound with a kiss, swallowing your whimpers and cries in an attempt to keep the sound from carrying across the apartment. 

“Gotta stay quiet for me,” he whispers against your lips. 

“S-Sorry.”

“No, shh, don’t be sorry,” he murmurs. “I wish you could be loud. Wish I could make you scream for me. Just–fuck, honey, you’re right there, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing me–fuck, you get so wet. Give me one more. One more, and I’ll give you my cock. That’s it, that’s–yes–” 

Marcus breaks off on a groan as you clamp down on his fingers. It’s so much, you’re so full, and you buck against his hand, your lower back rising up off of the bed as he pulls it from you. 

You slump back down, breathing heavily, as he carefully withdraws his fingers. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying to get your attention. “Hey, I should have asked this sooner, but–are you on birth control? Do you want me to use a condom?”

“I-I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “If you… you know, if you didn’t want to. That would be–I’d like that.”

“That’s perfect,” he whispers, giving you a tender kiss. “I’d like that, too.” He pauses, and mutters a soft curse under his breath. “I wish I had some lube,” he remarks. “Just to be sure I don’t hurt you.”

You watch as he spits on his cock and takes himself in hand. 

“This will have to do, though,” he says as he slicks it over his cock and crawls over you. “And I’ll just go slow.”

He cups the back of your neck with one hand as he lines himself up with the other. His lips are inches from yours, but he doesn’t lean down to kiss you–no, he seems to want to watch your reaction as the tip of his cock notches at your entrance. 

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers again.

“You could never hurt me,” you say confidently, and you watch as his lips part in surprise. “Marcus–” you add, as you shift your hips impatiently. “–just do it.”

Your eyes widen as you feel him push into you, his girth splitting you open. It can’t be much bigger than three of his thick fingers, but still, it just feels like more. It’s longer, certainly; he keeps pushing in, and even when you’re sure he’s reached the end, there’s still more. 

“Oh wow,” you hear yourself murmuring again and again. “Oh, Marcus.” 

“I know,” he returns, kissing your cheekbone, your forehead, your nose, and then finally, your lips. “I know, honey.”

He starts to rock his hips, slowly undulating them, letting his cock drag back and forth against your walls. It feels incredible–you never imagined how fucking good this would feel–and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s because it’s him. It’s Marcus–a man you’ve admittedly only known for a few days, but you feel as though you know him already–and you trust him completely. 

“Does it hurt at all?” he rumbles softly in your ear.

“No,” you answer emphatically. “It feels–holy shit.”

Marcus laughs breathlessly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can–can we do this again?”

He chuckles. “We’re currently doing this.”

“I already want it again.”

He starts to go a little harder, his thrusts a little deeper. His hand grips your hip for leverage, the other still cradling the back of your neck. He kisses you, a deep, messy, passionate thing, before burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking a gentle mark into your skin.

“Feels so good,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna last, not when you feel like this.”

“Like how?” you ask, smiling widely. 

“So fucking tight,” Marcus groans. “And wet, and hot, and–” he brings his thumb to your clit and starts to rub little circles around it. “I need you to cum again,” he says. “Fuck, you–you feel too good, honey, I’m not gonna last.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you murmur. 

“Please,” he says, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Please, baby, you’ve gotta do this one last thing for me. Let me feel it, let me make you feel good. Let me–let me–”

Your mouth falls open as you feel it wash over you. This is better than anything you’ve ever felt before, any relief you’ve been able to seek with your fingers–the drag of his cock along your walls only serves to prolong your pleasure, making each little aftershock feel like a new wave of pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus groans. “Fuck.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he shoves his hips into you one more time, emptying himself within you with a deep groan. 

The aftermath is quiet. After gently, tenderly cleaning you up with a damp cloth, Marcus collapses on the pillows and pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around you as you settle with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Was this a bad idea?” you ask quietly as you trace little shapes on his chest.

Marcus huffs a laugh. “Probably,” he answers.

“I don’t care,” you say resolutely, causing his hold on you to tighten. “...Do you regret it?” you ask, feeling unsure of yourself again.

“No,” Marcus says immediately. “No. I was drawn to you from the beginning. I’m sorry, I–I should have tried harder to prevent this, but…”

“I felt it, too,” you murmur. “Maybe we weren’t meant to prevent it.”

The two of you bask in the afterglow, reveling in the feel of your bodies pressed together. You can’t help but think of how tender, how loving he is–not just with you, but with Emma.

“Can I ask a personal question?” you ask, breaking the silence.

Marcus shrugs. “Sure.”

“This is probably weird to be thinking about right now, but… why does Emma’s mom not want you around?”

 Marcus sighs, his lips pressing into your forehead–not really a kiss, just a caress of your hairline with his mouth.

“That story doesn’t exactly paint me in the best light.”

“I want to know. I just… don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” he asks.

“You’re… you’re such a good dad–a good man. I don’t understand how her mom wanted nothing to do with you. I just don’t get it.”

Marcus nods, pressing his lips together. “I wasn’t always a good man,” he says quietly. “I tried to do the best I could for the both of them–for Emma and her mom–but I’m afraid I fell very short, in the beginning.”

“What happened?”

“We were in college when we found out she was pregnant,” Marcus says with a sigh. “She was nineteen, I was almost twenty-one. We hadn’t been together long; maybe a couple of months. She was terrified, of course–and so was I, but never told her that. I asked her to marry me because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Did you love her?”

“I cared for her, very much so. And even if we weren’t quite right for each other, knowing–” Marcus swallows thickly, “–knowing our child, my child, was growing inside of her made me feel deeply connected. If you had asked me at twenty-one, I would have sworn up and down that I was in love.”

“But not now?”

Marcus huffs softly. “I know a little better, now.”

“What happened?” you ask, tracing the line of his collarbone with the tip of your finger. “What did you do?”

“Well, the first thing I did was drop out of art school,” he says with a little laugh. “Didn’t think it would pay the bills, especially not with a wife and a baby.”

“You were an artist?” you ask, surprised.

“Wanted to be,” he chuckled. “At least at that time. So instead, I applied for the FBI. Joined the Art Crimes division. And shortly after I completed training… Emma was born.” His eyes are far away, a small smile on his face as he remembers. “And she was perfect. And I remember thinking, all the struggling, all the hardship, all the times Denise and I didn’t get along… it would be worth it, in the end. No matter what happened; because I had her.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “What went wrong?”

“Nothing in particular, at first. We struggled to make ends meet. We were two young parents with no idea what we were doing, and even though I might have known deep down that we weren’t right for each other, I just wanted it to go right. I wanted us to be happy, but in the end we were just too different. We didn’t work–and while I might have been blind to it at the time, Denise wasn’t. When Emma was barely even two, she filed for divorce, and I–” he sighs heavily again. “I went a little off the rails.”

You tilt your head and look up at Marcus. His eyes are stormy, and you can see the remorse etched into the lines of his face. You don’t ask how, you just wait patiently for him to continue.

“I didn’t want to be divorced at twenty-three. This wasn’t–it wasn’t the life I had expected for myself, not what I would have chosen, but because I had Emma, I didn’t want anything else. I always knew I would want a family, and so what if it happened… a little out of order?”

“What did you do?�� you whispered.

“I tried to convince her to change her mind. She took Emma and went to live with her parents, and I’d call them every day, asking to talk to her. I wanted to persuade her–I thought that if she could just see that we had plenty of time, we could raise Emma and be good parents and still… still have time for whatever we wanted. That we could still build lives.

“When she never returned my calls, I started stopping by,” he confesses, his voice even quieter. “They’d always tell me she was out, so I started showing up at odd hours, trying to… trying to just catch her one time–I thought if I explained that she could do whatever she wanted, as long as we could just stay together and raise Emma, she’d agree. But the more I tried to contact her, the more she pulled away, and rightly so, honestly. I was badgering her. I tried to justify it at the time, said I was doing it all for Emma, but I, uh… It took me until much later to admit I was actually doing it for me. I was so scared of being a failure, and scared to be alone.

“Anyway, the court didn’t look very kindly on what looked to everyone involved like stalking behavior, and Denise was afforded full custody.”

“M-Marcus,” you murmur, unable to help the water gathering at the corners of your eyes. 

“Broke my heart,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “And I was angry about it for a while, but when it comes down to it, I was just angry with myself. It was my actions that lost me my daughter, and… well, I’ve had twenty years to come to terms with that, now.”

“How did you finally… come to face all of that?” you ask quietly.

“Therapy,” Marcus says with a genuine laugh. “And that is another story for another time.”

“God, what else happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, “just another relationship that I fought way too hard for.” He playfully runs his finger down the bridge of your nose before tilting your chin upward for a soft kiss. “And you,” he murmurs, “need to go back to bed.”

Your emotions still running on high alert after Marcus’s emotional confession of his past, you surge forward and throw your arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I’m okay,” he promises. “It was a long time ago.”

“You should tell Emma,” you say softly. “She never knew why her mom didn’t want you around.”

“Not really something you want to tell your daughter,” he says with a sad smile. “That you basically stalked her mom.”

“She’s grown up. She’s older than her mom was when–”

“Believe me, I know,” Marcus groans. “Don’t remind me; it makes this feel very… wrong.” He gestured between the two of you.

“Just trust me,” you murmur. “She’d want to know.” With herculean effort, you extricate yourself from his arms, grab your clothes, and redress. Feeling unsure in the way the conversation ended, you tell yourself not to turn around again when your hand lands on the doorknob.

“Honey,” Marcus calls out softly from the bed. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you whisper back, and then you’re gone.

“Where are you two off to, today?” Marcus asks conversationally over coffee. He’s made it stronger than usual today, and it makes warmth pool deep in your stomach at the reminder of your very sleepless night last night. You’re grateful for the extra boost of caffeine as well, of course–the morning seemed to come far too early after being up half of the night. Sleep had still been hard to come by when you finally returned to the guest room, after all; the conversation about Marcus’s past was still swirling around in your head, and every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel his hands on you. 

You never knew it could feel like this, never knew how good it could be with someone who really knew what they were doing. Someone so giving, so gentle and yet so ruthless in pursuing your pleasure. Someone brimming with passion, capable of both the softest prase and the most depraved filth in the same sentence.

If you had thought your thirst would be sated after finally getting what you’d fantasized about and more, you were a fool. The flame burns hotter than ever this morning, and the sight of Marcus in a suit with not a hair out of place only makes you think about how he had looked between your legs last night–that devilish smirk as he teased about wanting to taste you.

You wonder if you’ll ever see him that way again, or if last night was a fluke. 

Had he noticed when your fingers had trembled around the coffee cup he handed you? 

He had given you a soft, tender stare when you had first entered the kitchen, but that’s the only evidence you can find so far that Marcus is even half as affected as you feel. You can still feel him this morning, a subtle ache between your legs when you sit down, and you wish you could see some outward sign on him that this actually happened.

“Not really sure,” Emma answers Marcus’s question. “Kind of ran out of stuff to see.”

“Impossible,” Marcus chuckles. “Well, you can hang out here if you want, or if you're really looking for a distraction, you can come to the office with me.”

“The fucking FBI office?” Emma asks. “Are we allowed?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” Marcus shrugs. “Plus, I might be able to set up some time for you to talk to someone in Legal,” he says to you. “Are you still interested in that?”

“Oh wow,” you breathe. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies. “I said I would.”

You nod, smiling up at him beatifically. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “Well, if you’re coming, we’re going to need to leave soon. Are you almost ready?”

“I’m ready,” Emma announces, shouldering her bag.

“Yeah, me too.”

Marcus winks at you, and you try not to let yourself react to it.

“Let’s go, then.”

You had assumed that you’d spend most of your day at the FBI holed up in Marcus’s office, doing nothing. You had imagined that, out of necessity, you’d be barred from attending any meetings or hearing about his department’s day-to-day activities, but when you arrive, his team seems enthusiastic to have you and Emma there. Much to your surprise, they even let the two of you sit in the back of the room while Marcus conducts a briefing. 

You listen, enthralled, as he discusses a recent forgery case that the team is working on. His demeanor, as it is at home, is good-natured and easygoing. He’s easy to smile, and engaging when he talks, and as a result, he utterly commands the room. His style of quiet, unassuming authority has you subtly squirming in your chair. Even though you have no idea what’s being discussed, you can tell simply by listening to his cadence of speech that he’s incredibly knowledgeable, and fucking good at his job. It’s clear he loves the work–and when you think back to the night before and his whispered confession that he had once dreamed of being an artist, you find yourself beaming with happiness that he’s clearly found something he loves to do. 

“People change.”

You suddenly recall his words the very first night you were there–his assurance that it didn’t matter that you had no idea what you wanted to do at your age, because there’s no promise that you’ll still want the same things in ten years. After last night, you realize that he was talking about himself in that moment.

You hope he’s happy and fulfilled.

He deserves it.

You watch him wrap up the meeting–delegating work to each member of the team and asking for updates–and every so often, as his eyes sweep around the room, they always seem to land on you.

As he promised, Marcus introduces you to Kimberley Alexander, the lawyer that his department works with most of the time. You’re nervous at first–you aren’t sure what you’re going to talk about, but you end up staying in her office through lunch, spending almost an hour and a half longer than you had intended, talking about potential jobs with the FBI.

Not because you suddenly have the desire to return to Washington, DC as soon as you can, nope. It does interest you–quite a bit, actually–but you can’t pretend that you aren’t excited at the prospect of living in the same city as Marcus. Would he want to see you again? Is he really interested in you, or is it just the forced proximity–because you’re convenient and available? If you had your own life here, would he be interested in a place in it?

When you find Emma and her dad again, they’ve clearly just come back from lunch. Emma thrusts a container into your hands, which you discover, with an exaggerated moan of satisfaction, is pad Thai.

“Must have been a good talk,” Marcus remarks. 

“Yeah, you were there for two hours,” Emma adds.

“It was good,” you nod. “Talked about, y’know, internships and stuff.”

“You wanna live here?” Emma asks, looking surprised and curious.

You try to shrug noncommittally. “Sure,” you say lightly. “It’s as good a place as any, and it would be kind of fun to work for the FBI, right?”

���I’m afraid I can’t give you an unbiased answer to that,” Marcus says with a wry smile, “but I think you’d be a great fit.”

Your heart swells at his words. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he says earnestly. “And I hate to do this, but I’ve gotta run to do a witness interview, and you guys have to stay behind this time.”

You watch as Marcus gives Emma a quick kiss on the forehead, and your eyebrows raise in surprise at the action. They’ve gotten more comfortable around each other in the time you’ve been here, but neither of them had seemed to be very comfortable with physical affection. Marcus, for his part, is always so hesitant–wanting to reach out, but seemingly afraid that he doesn’t deserve it, or worse, that it won’t be received well. You still remember the first day you saw him–when his hand twitched toward his daughter, seemingly desperate to wrap her in a hug, but he hadn’t allowed himself to do it.

What changed?

Marcus glances at you, and gives you a slightly awkward, stiff nod before leaving for his meeting.

You busy yourself with eating lunch, digging into the container they brought you.

“Tomorrow’s the last day, huh?” Emma says conversationally.

You gulp. You’ve purposefully been putting the fact that your time here has an expiration date at the back corner of your mind. Whatever you have with Marcus, it’s temporary by its very nature, and you know it.

You just don’t really want to think about it right now.

“Yup,” you agree, mouth full of noodles. 

“What do you wanna do? I’m kind of out of ideas.”

You shrug. “We could ask Marcus if there’s anything he recommends seeing that we haven’t already been to.”

“I think we should go as far out as the metro line goes,” Emma says.

“Why?”

She shrugs. “See where we end up.”

“Whatever you want,” you tell her. “Last day is up to you.”

“How’s the pad Thai?”

“Good,” you nod, mouth full. “What’d you get?”

“Calamari,” she answers. “Never had it, wanted to try it.”

“How was it?”

“Chewy.”

You laugh, taking another bite of noodles. “Think I’ll stick to my favorite.”

The two of you huddle together on the small, two-seater couch in Marcus’s office, watching YouTube videos and laughing together until he comes back near the end of the day.

Your eyes automatically brighten when you see him return, drinking in the sight of him–the crisp lines of his suit paired with the slightly unruly hair. You discovered last night how soft it is, and how much he loves it when you thread your fingers through it and tug gently. 

He meets your eyes, but quickly drops his gaze, and you try not to sink in disappointment. Did it not mean as much to him as it did to you? Or is he just better at hiding it?

“You two hungry for dinner?” he asks, putting his stuff back in his messenger back and throwing it over his shoulder.

Emma groans loudly beside you. “Gonna be honest, I’m not really feeling dinner.”

“That was a lot of pad Thai,” you agree.

“Good,” Marcus says with a smile. “Me neither. Let’s go home and have a lazy night eating popcorn on the couch.”

The moment you arrive home, though, Emma makes a beeline for the bathroom. 

“She okay?” Marcus asks you.

You grimace at the faint sounds of retching. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

When she emerges again, Marcus hands her a glass of water with a concerned expression. “Everything okay?”

“No,” she mutters pitifully.

“Was it the calamari?” you ask.

“Please don’t say that word ever again,” Emma groans, flopping down on the couch. “Fuck. Everything hurts.”

“What do you need?” Marcus asks, looking a little lost.

“Distraction,” she mumbles. “Long movie or something.”

Emma takes up the entire couch, so you and Marcus have to sit in opposite armchairs while you watch Lord of the Rings. It’s almost unbearable to you, being so close to him and yet not being able to touch, not being able to look at him for fear of giving everything away. If you two were to lock eyes, you know that you wouldn’t be able to hide your reaction to him. So much so that even Emma, who’s still alternating between running to the bathroom and collapsing on the couch, would have no choice but to notice. 

The pull to him feels overwhelming; the only thing you can think of doing is crossing the living room and sinking into his arms. It makes you feel guilty–your best friend has food poisoning, Marucs is trying to help by refilling her water and encouraging her to drink, and here you are, with nothing to do but yearn for your best friend’s dad. 

When the movie is over, it’s late; Marcus brushes Emma’s hair back from her forehead and suggests she go lie down. As she’s stumbling toward the guest room, Marcus touches you for the first time since last night–lightly wrapping his fingers around your wrist while Emma isn’t looking.

Your eyes meet, and he gives you a coal-black stare, trying to communicate without speaking. He nods subtly, and his meaning is easy to understand.

Come to me tonight.

You come to him in the dead of night. You lie awake, listening for Emma’s breathing to even out, and then waiting another thirty minutes after that, just to be safe. 

It’s nearly midnight when you slip into Marcus’s bedroom, but he’s still awake; his lamp is on, and he’s reading a book.

Waiting for you. 

The moment the door creaks open, Marcus casts the book aside without even marking his place, and rises to his feet. He strides forward and you meet him in the middle, a clash of mouths and hands as you come together desperately. 

“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips. “All fucking day, all I could think about was this.”

“Me too,” you mumble hastily in between kisses. 

“No idea how hard it was to concentrate on giving that meeting this morning,” he confesses, “with you in the corner looking at me with those eyes of yours.” 

He grabs your top and pulls it over your head in one swift motion and ducks down to lathe his tongue against your nipple, making you arch against him. 

“Ah!–Really?” you gasp. “I didn’t–you looked so… calm the whole day. Like it didn’t affect you the same way it affects me.”

“Doesn’t affect me?” Marcus repeats incredulously. “Honey, I am out of my mind with wanting you.” He pulls back, his palms cradling your cheeks as he stares at you with a disbelieving smile. “Do you not have any idea what you do to me?” he asks softly. 

Stunned, you shake your head.

Marcus laughs breathlessly, as he reaches down to encircle your wrist with one large hand and brings your hand forward to press against the front of his pants, where you can feel him, hard and straining against the fabric. “You feel that?” he rasps. “Do you fucking feel what you do to me?”

He shoves your flimsy sleep shorts down your legs and all but tosses you onto the bed. He strips off his own shirt and follows you down. “I’ve been half-hard all day,” he confesses. “I had to fuck my own hand in the shower this morning and still,” he groans. “As soon as I picture your face as you fall apart for me, I’m done for.”

“You thought about that?” 

“All fucking day,” Marcus promises. 

“That all you thought about?” you ask, your voice turning coy as you gain more confidence.

He chuckles darkly. “Thought about a lot of things,” he murmurs.

“Such as…?”

“Just–all the ways I want to have you.” 

“Show me,” you demand.

Marcus chuckles again. “Show you what, pretty girl?”

“All the ways that you want me.”

“That would take a lot more time than we currently have,” he says wryly. 

“Then show me how you want me most,” you say. 

“Let me get you ready first,” Marcus murmurs, starting to kiss a path down your body, intent on his destination. 

“No.”

“Hmm?”

“I want it now,” you say frankly.

“Honey–” he protests softly.

“Consider the fact that I’ve done nothing but think about what happened last night and fantasize about what’s going to happen tonight foreplay,” you tell him. “I can’t–I can’t wait. I don’t want it to be slow. I need–I need—” you trail off, searching for how exactly to find the words for what it is that you need. 

Marcus nods slowly, his eyes darkening as he watches you plead for him to take you now.

“You really want me to show you?” he asks quietly.

You nod.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, honey.”

You comply with a shiver, your heart in your throat as you turn around and put yourself on display for him.

Marcus mutters a soft curse behind you as his palm strokes up the skin on the back of your thigh and up over the swell of your cheek. 

You hear him spit in his hand, and you know he's coating himself in it behind you, easing his way in. He does it again, and this time you whimper softly as he cups you, transferring more wetness to your folds. 

"Already so wet," he teases softly. "Tell me if it's too much."

He slides forward, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, and your elbows nearly buckle at the overwhelming feel of it. 

Marcus doesn't wait for you to adjust, this time. He starts thrusting right away, his hands grasping your hips for leverage. He's pressing right on the spot that makes pleasure sing throughout your entire body. Once he's sure that his pace isn't too much for you, he starts giving it to you harder, snapping his hips into you over and over.

Last night was overwhelming in its own way, but this–this is devastating. You thought last night was the most pleasure you could ever feel, but you had no idea that this could wreck you so completely. 

You're crying out with every thrust, each punishing snap of his hips punching little pathetic noises past your lips as you take what he needs to give you. 

"Shhh," he reminds you. "Gotta stay quiet, honey."

You drop to your elbows, burying your face in the pillows to try and muffle the involuntary sounds, but you can tell it isn't enough. 

"M-Marcus," you whimper frantically. "I can't."

"Do you want to stop?" he asks (making you shake your head rapidly), "Or do you want me to help you be quiet?"

You nod frantically, although you have no idea what he means. You'd do anything to keep feeling his cock like this. 

Marcus’s hand wraps tightly around your mouth, quieting your cries and forcing you to breathe through your nose. Something about the action makes your pussy clench violently, and Marcus makes a quiet groan of pleasure above you. 

He fucks you harder and faster, one hand sliding underneath you to rub tight circles over your clit. 

"Cum for me," he rasps brokenly above you. “Fuck, please–” 

The soft plea is enough to end you. You wail into Marcus’s hand as you come undone, and he tightens his grip, muffling the sound. 

It doesn’t take long for him to follow–just a couple more minutes of brutal thrusts that have you whimpering into his hand, oversensitive from your orgasm. The minute he stills, his cock slips from you as he immediately collapses on the bed and pulls you into his arms. You’re both still breathing heavily, but he smooths the hair back from your forehead as he looks you over.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. “That was a lot, I’m sorry.”

“‘Re you kidding?” you slur. “That was… amazing.”

Marcus laughs and pulls you close again. “I’m glad,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his words. 

“Can I stay here for a little longer?” you ask. “Just a little.”

Marcus pulls back again and looks down at you with an amused smile. “It’s cute that you think I’m done with you, honey.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re not?”

“Mm-mm. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the way you look when you come undone,” he murmurs, tracing the tip of his index finger down the side of your cheek. “You didn’t think I’d be satisfied with just once tonight, did you?”

You giggle. “I guess not.”

He fixes you with a fiery look. “Do you trust me?” he asks quietly. 

“...Yeah?”

He raises one eyebrow. 

“Yes,” you answer, with more conviction this time. “Yes, I trust you.”

Marcus kisses you tenderly before sitting back on his heels beside you. His fingertips trail down your chest, over the peaks of your nipples, and down your stomach, as though he can’t get enough of the feel of your skin. One hand travels further down, stroking the soft patch of hair on your pubic bone before he slips one finger gently inside you. 

You cringe slightly at the wet squelch of your combined release, but Marcus shushes you gently. “Love how wet you get,” he teases affectionately. “And I like knowing I’m there inside of you.”

You clench involuntarily at his words, your lips parting as you exhale shakily. 

He chuckles. “You like that? You like knowing that I get off on the idea of you carrying a little piece of me with you?” he asks, as he starts to slowly fuck you with one finger.

“What if I told you that I was thinking about it during that meeting this morning?” he continues. “I kept wondering if there was still a little in there from last night, leaking into your underwear as I talked.”

“Shit,” you mumble. “Marcus.”

“Wanna fill you up again tonight,” he remarks casually. “So it’s still there when you’re walking around tomorrow.” He groans softly. “Fuck–Can I–Can I give you my number? I–I want you to text me. Tell me you can still feel me.”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Yes.”

“Good.” He adds a second finger and presses the heel of his hand against your clit, working you up to another orgasm exactly how he now knows gets you off quickly. When you start to clench around him, though, he doesn’t stop. He starts to rub quickly back and forth on that little spot inside of you until something else starts to build. 

“M-Marcus,” you murmur. “W-Wait, I–something is–”

“Shhh.” He keeps going, rubbing harder and faster until he suddenly rips his fingers from you as you gush around them, soaking his hand and the bed.

“Oh! Shit,” you cry out, panicking. “What the f–”

“Fuck, yes,” Marcus groans, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Oh, fuck, do that again.”

When he notices your expression of utter shock, though, he pauses, a slow smile of understanding spreading across his face. 

“Honey,” he says soothingly. “Was that the first time?”

You stare up at him, mouth hanging open. “I… I kind of always thought that was a myth,” you admit, ducking your head in embarrassment. 

“Oh, baby,” he breathes softly. “No, it’s definitely not.”

He lays down beside you again, gently tucking a wisp of stray hair behind one ear. “That was so good,” he praises softly. “So good to me.”

You smile shakily, but something is starting to nag at you.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asks, noticing your hesitant expression. 

“I just… feel really inexperienced,” you admit quietly. “You know all this stuff, and I–it must be tedious, having someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, or–”

“No,” Marcus interrupts, his voice full of sincerity. “It’s not tedious at all. On the contrary,” he says with a little laugh, “the fact that I get to show you… that I’m the only one who can get you to do something you didn’t even know you could do–Well, shit,” he says with a crooked grin. He reaches down and palms his cock, which is hard and weeping again. “Look at what it does to me, huh?”

“Does that mean you’ll fuck me again?” you ask eagerly.

Marcus chuckles at your enthusiasm. “I did say I was going to fill you up one more time, didn’t I?”

When you wake up (in your bed, next to Emma, after sneaking back into your own room after Marcus was finally finished with you in the wee hours of the morning), your travel companion is decidedly not ready to go. 

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a train,” she grumbles. “And my stomach is still in fucking knots.”

“We can just stay around the house,” you offer.

“I don’t want you to lay around being bored just because of me,” she protests, flopping down on the couch with a groan.

“Not feeling any better?” Marcus asks, coming into the living room. 

“No,” Emma pouts. “I’m gonna stay here and rest.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks, looking over at you.

You shrug. “I don’t really know. Stay here too, probably.”

“How about this,” Marcus says carefully. “I’m supposed to be going to the National Gallery of Art today to give a little talk about forgery detection. If you wanted to come, we could… walk around the museum a bit, afterward?”

You try to keep your face neutral at the prospect of spending a day with Marcus. Alone. 

“Sure,” you say, hoping it sounds nonchalant. “Could be fun.” 

“Great,” he says lightly. “It’s a d–it’s a plan.”

It’s a date.

You’re giddy as you wave goodbye to Emma–who’s watching daytime TV and holding a bottle of Gatorade–and follow Marcus out of the door. 

As soon as the door shuts, he rounds on you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you soundly. “So glad you said yes,” he says breathlessly. 

“Why wouldn’t I say yes to that?” you tease. “Spending the day with you.”

“I don’t know,” Marcus murmurs playfully, capturing your lips again. “Good question.”

“Is this a date?” you ask coyly.

He pauses, lips parting in surprise. “Do you want it to be?”

Taking a big leap of faith, you nod. 

Marcus’s expression softens, and he threads your fingers together. “Then it’s a date.”

After his talk–which you listen to with eager eyes and rapt attention–the two of you stroll slowly through the galleries, talking. Marcus occasionally stops, taking in the artwork, and tells you little tidbits of information about each piece. He seems to be using the quiet setting as an excuse to keep you as close as possible; his arm wraps around your waist as he leans down and talks quietly in your ear, making goosebumps rise on the back of your neck whenever he speaks. He seems to know the effect on you–you had no idea art could be described so sensually. 

You lose the afternoon to each other; having lunch in a small cafe and then walking down the National Mall, hand in hand.

You pick up a sandwich for Emma, just in case she’s feeling better, on your way home. As you get closer and closer, every step starts to feel heavier and heavier. You never want this to end. 

Just before you arrive at his building, Marcus stops and spins you around, cupping your cheek and pulling you to him for a soft kiss. 

“Today was–” he starts, but breaks off, shaking his head. 

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Listen, I don’t–I don’t know what your plans are after you leave tomorrow, but–”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

You’re both dancing around something big–both of you afraid to say what you really mean, and you know it, but you can’t bring yourself to take the leap. 

You had been hoping that Marcus would.

“It was nice,” you say lamely. 

“It was,” he agrees softly. 

Emma is looking a little less green when you arrive back home, and accepts the sandwich eagerly. 

“Sorry about today,” she says, her mouth full. “I don’t know what the hell that was.”

“It was the cal–”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

At first, when you hear Emma start to fall asleep beside you, you're paralyzed. You want to go to Marcus. This is your last night; if you want to say goodbye, you need to go to him this one last time.

You just don't know if you can face goodbye.

You don't know if you can face him. 

You aren't under any reservations about what this is. Marcus is a man, and you're nothing special. You're also nearly half his age. You gave him 'fuck me' eyes for three days, and he when he gave in to the temptation, you came willingly. But this was never meant to be a long-term arrangement. 

It was never meant to be in the first place.

You just wish your first time hadn't been with the total package. Marcus is sweet, kind, attentive, and can apparently make you cum like it was a competitive sport. How are you supposed to go back home, back to being around boys your age, and expect them to measure up?

You debate staying in bed. It would be the easiest thing to do. You could begin tonight: stuffing your feelings down and burying them deep, never letting them see the light of day again. You were on spring break, and this was a fun romp. A fling. You could leave it there and never give Marcus the goodbye he probably deserves. 

On the other hand… 

What's the harm in delaying for one more night?

You slip into his room for the third time in three days, and carefully close the door behind you. Marcus is shirtless in bed, and he beckons you over with a crooked, affectionate smile. 

"Fancy seeing you here, beautiful," he says, drawing the covers back with a playful raise of his eyebrow. 

Despite your heavy mood, you can't help but grin back and enthusiastically hop into bed beside him. 

He takes advantage immediately, grabbing you and turning you, and pulling you back against his chest with a playful growl. You're caged tightly in his arms, and there's nowhere you'd rather be.  

"This is nice," you hum contentedly. 

"Oh yeah? This all you want? Just a little cuddle?" Marcus teases, nipping gently at your shoulder. 

"What if it was?" You wiggle your hips playfully against his hardening cock.

"If that was all you wanted? Then I'd think really hard about dead puppies and my childhood neighbor Mrs. Fitzwilliam in order to calm myself down a little," he answers. 

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam?" you laugh. "Why?"

"When I was a little boy, I was convinced she was a witch. I couldn't so much as talk to her for years."

"Stop it, no you did not."

"I wouldn't joke about that," he laughs. "I was really scared of her!"

"Do me a favor and don't think about her," you tease. "I like how it feels against me."

"Would feel better somewhere else," Marcus says darkly. 

"Have somewhere in mind, do you?"

"I've had it on my mind all day," he says softly. 

"Show me," you murmur. "Show me what's been on your mind all day."

"Wanna know what I was picturing while I was giving that little forgery talk?" Marcus asks.

"Obviously."

"Then sit up, pretty girl."

He loosens his hold on you and you sit up, unable to keep the grin off your face. He sits up too, gently taking hold of the hem of your shirt and drawing it up over your head. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your shorts. 

"Help me out with these," he commands quietly. 

You shimmy them down your hips and kick them off, still kneeling before him, now completely bare. Marcus sits back on the headboard and pats his thigh suggestively, giving you a wicked smile. 

"C'mere."

You giggle and bite your lip nervously as you crawl forward and straddle him.

"Wanna see you just like this," he murmurs. 

"I–I've never–"

"I know," he interrupts with a wry smile. "I've got you. Just wanna see you like this," he confesses, palming your jaw and rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone.

Your eyes start to flutter shut as you feel the tip of him breach you as you sink slowly down. 

"Eyes on me, honey." 

With a shaky breath, you open them again, holding Marcus's intense gaze as you impale yourself on his cock. Your lips part, eyebrows pinching together at the stretch of him–you don't think you'll ever get used to the feeling of being broken open for the first time. 

"That's it," he whispers. "Just like that." 

You slowly rock your hips, rising up and sinking back down again. You feel so full like this; your lips part and a breathy gasp escapes you as you feel the drag of Marcus’s cock inside of you. 

This is the first time you've chased your own pleasure with him like this; Marcus's eyes rake over your form greedily and as you ride him, you start to feel overly conscious of his scrutiny.

"Do I look okay?" you ask shyly.

Marcus makes a disbelieving noise and surges up, his hands starting to guide the movement of your hips as he kisses you messing, trailing from your mouth to your neck as he flexes up into you.

"Are you kidding?" he asks softly. "You're ethereal. A fucking goddess in my bed. And if you're thinking about that, I'm not fucking you right."

"That's a lie," you say with a lazy smile. "You're very thorough."

"Oh yeah? You like how I fuck you?"

"Mmmhmm," you hum. "Liked what you were doing last night."

Marcus chuckles deep in his throat. "Is that so? Cum for me like this, honey, and I'll put you on your knees again."

When his thumb presses into your clit, rubbing in small circles, it doesn't take you long to start to feel the pleasure growing in your core. You start moving faster, bouncing on his cock, no longer caring if your body is jiggling too much or that your face might look silly contorted with pleasure; all you can think about is chasing that feeling that’s building inside of you. Marcus helps you along, thrusting up into you, and you swear he must get deep enough to feel the very end of you. 

He whispers little praises and encouragements in your ear in that deep, raspy way his voice gets when he’s drunk on pleasure. You can recognize all his little foibles, now–the way he wiggles his wrist back and forth when something’s on his mind, the way he talks with his hands when he’s passionate about a subject, and the way he sounds when he comes undone.

You’re going to carry all of those things with you, now–the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he raises one eyebrow when he’s being playful, and the way he sometimes mouths along to the words of his favorite old movies.

Is it possible to miss someone so completely after just one week?

You’re so deep in your emotions when you cum, you barely even realize that you’re about to until you’re clenching hard around him, grinding down on his cock as he works you through it, guiding your hips with his fingers pressing hard into your skin.

You’re still in a daze as Marcus flips you over, depositing you on your back and then turning you over onto your stomach on the bed. Rather than pull you up to your knees like the night before, he straddles you like this and sinks back into you, draping himself over your back as he starts to really fuck you.

Oh. This might be your favorite position yet–it’s the same angle as it was last night with the added bonus of getting to feel the weight of this man pressing down on you. His chest is against your back, his ragged breaths in your ear. His elbows cage your face and he entangles your fingers together over your head. It’s a sensory overload in nearly every way, and you’re drowning in the feel of him.

It’s so good that you feel your core start to tighten again.

“So soon?” Marcus teases breathlessly in your ear. “Fuck, I can feel you shaking. How are you so fucking perfect, hmm? You always feel like you were made to take me.”

His words inexplicably cause a lump to build in your throat. Made to take him, but this couldn’t, by definition, last. The statement only makes you wish that your compatibility didn’t have to be so fucking temporary. 

You’re teetering on a precipice–on the verge of both an orgasm and inexplicable tears. When Marcus gently brushes the shell of your ear with his lips and murmurs one last, soft sentence, you finally succumb to both.

“You can let go, honey. I’ve got you.”

You convulse with a wet sob, pleasure and sorrow overtaking you simultaneously. Blessedly, with your face buried in the pillow, Marcus doesn’t notice yet; he starts fucking into you with abandon until he lets go with a deep groan in your ear. 

When he finally stills, and he starts peppering kisses across your shoulder blade, you can feel him stiffen when he realizes that, mortifyingly, there are tears on your cheeks.

“Shit,” Marcus breathes. He carefully slips out of you and turns you over underneath him, quickly brushing the tears at the corners of your eyes. He kisses them away, whispering softly to you.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks frantically. “Honey, look at me.”

“No!” you exclaim emphatically. “No, I–I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“Talk to me,” he demands softly.

“I don’t–I don’t want to go home,” you whisper. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Oh, honey,” Marcus whispers. “Really?”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m sure this is exactly what you’re looking for–for some girl to get attached to you after one whole week of knowing you…”

Marcus smiles and brushes his thumb against your cheekbone. “Attached to me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you say. “You’re just really nice, and you’re gorgeous, and you’ve been so good to me–”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Please don’t cry.”

"Sorry," you say again.

"Hey," he says softly, still stroking your cheek. "You know something? You're wrong. You're not 'some girl.' You're sweet, and funny, and cute, and maybe having this girl right here be attached to me after one whole week of knowing me is exactly what I'm looking for."

"What are you suggesting?" you ask bluntly. 

“All I’m suggesting is that we stay in touch,” Marcus answers. “No pressure, no expectations. We talk, and we get to know each other better, and when you graduate, Miss Pre-Law,” he teases, lightly touching the tip of your nose, “if you still feel the same way, come back to me. Go to Law School at Georgetown. Get an internship at the FBI. And whatever it is that you do, I know of a place you can stay.”

"You'd really want that?" you ask, a slow smile starting to spread across your face.

"I'd be a fool not to grab onto this with both hands," he murmurs, stroking his hand down your side. "A damn fool."

"What about Emma?"

Marcus pauses, biting his lip. "She's a grown woman," he says carefully, "and I haven't had much of a place in her life growing up. I would hope that… once we see where this goes–if it goes anywhere–she'd understand."

You nod slowly. "Okay."

"I've rushed into things in the past," he says softly. "More than once. But I'm not in any rush right now. I want to take my time, get to know you, and if you're still looking at me the way you're looking at me right now in a year, I'll consider myself a lucky man."

Your smile is brilliant. "I'd like that."

"I'd like that, too. And that means tomorrow isn't goodbye, anymore." 

"No?"

"Nope," Marcus says with a grin. "Just 'see you later.'"

"Can I still get a goodbye kiss?" you ask.

He shakes his head playfully, but his lips descend to meet yours anyway. 

"Not a goodbye kiss," he teased.

"A 'see you later' kiss," you correct. 

"A 'you are so goddamn beautiful that I can't help to kiss you' kiss."

"You're making this too complicated."

"An 'I'll call it whatever I damn well please' kiss."

"An 'everything's gonna be alright' kiss?" you ask hopefully. 

Marcus smiles and kisses you long and deep. "Especially that."

– – – – – 

One year later…

“May I present: the graduating class of 2024.”

Along with Emma and the rest of the seniors in the auditorium, you throw your mortar-board hat into the air, shrieking happily as someone else’s crashes down on your head, instead. 

“Fucking finally!” Emma shouts beside you, and you grin widely. 

The last year has been a whirlwind for the both of you, and you know it. 

After reconnecting with her dad, Emma made an effort not to lose touch again. Eventually, he had opened up about his past and the circumstances surrounding his divorce, and at her urging, even began the process of making peace with her mom. They even had Christmas together, for the first time since Emma was two. 

And how do you know all this?

Well, Marcus hadn’t lost touch with you, either. 

True to his word, you both took your time and got to know each other from a distance. Talking to him was still as easy as breathing, and you’d spend entire nights at the beginning staying up far too late and talking well into the wee hours of the morning. 

It wasn’t hard to see that the something that was between you was still there and not going away any time soon. And the only thing you’ve found so far that rivals the strength of your friendship is the passion that you continue to have for each other in the bedroom.

Marcus would make trips when he could–some visits ostensibly to see Emma and other, more secret trysts where his only aim was to see you. (And see you he did; on most occasions, he’d barely let you out of his hotel room.)

Your beginning may have been a meteoric collision–two people forced into proximity that had no choice but to fall into each other–but the growth of your resulting love was slow and careful.

Eventually, you’d need to tell Emma, but it didn’t feel like the time was quite right, yet. Of course, when she visits you at Georgetown next year and you give her not your own address, but her father’s, the two of you will have to come clean. 

Right now, though, as you and Emma weave through the crowds of people looking for Marcus, you’re content to keep things the way they are. Everything is slowly falling into place, and that piece of the puzzle will fit into the rest when it’s ready.

“There she is!”

Emma beams as she hears Marcus call out, waving his hand frantically to catch your attention among the sea of people. 

She lets herself be crushed into a hug, her father grinning proudly and murmuring something unintelligible into her ear. After a few minutes, he releases her and turns to you.

“Congratulations,” he says–perfunctorily, but warmly. 

“Thank you.”

After a couple of beats, Emma rolls her eyes.

“Would you just kiss her already? Honestly, it’s more weird that you’re not.”

Two sets of eyes swivel to her in alarm.

“You… you knew?” you exclaim.

Emma gives you a disbelieving look. “Okay, the fact that you two both think you were being subtle means you might actually be meant for each other. Wow.”

“How?” you choke out.

“Are you serious? You two had bizarre energy when you met, and ever since, I see you smiling at your phone all the time,” Emma says to you. “And after that week, whenever he’s come to visit, you both act weird around each other.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly.

“Plus, you had a hickey on your neck one morning,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Real subtle.”

Oops. You shoot Marcus a look, and notice that he’s as red as a tomato. 

“Em,” he starts, looking pained.

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “Look, it’s not like we had the closest of relationships when I was a kid. I'm getting to know you as an adult, and it just feels different than it would be if you had raised me. I’m not going to say it doesn’t make me feel fucking weird, and I don’t ever wanna know details about your sex life and I am not calling you ‘mom,’ but I guess I’ll just say… I get it. You two are oddly similar, and I wouldn’t want to stand in between you and happiness. Because I… you know. I love you.”

“Emma,” Marcus says, his smile turning watery for a moment. 

“Don’t… make a big deal out of it,” she grumbles.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he laughs, and gives her a sweet kiss on the forehead. “I love you too, Emmie.”

He pulls back and looks at you, his eyes sparkling, and you feel your insides start to heat up just from his gaze alone.

Those words are still new, between you–the first time was whispered softly in his ear in the darkness after spending all night wrapped around each other just a couple of months ago. Marcus whispered them back immediately after; he was achingly patient and careful to take his time with you, even though you’d felt that emotion emanating from each of you for months prior.

It was just–you didn’t want to rush things. Love was new to you. Everything was. And if Marcus was going to be your first experience with all of it, you had a feeling that you were going to want to savor it.

You know he feels the same.

Stepping forward, Marcus gently tips your chin up to meet him in a gentle kiss. The shape of his lips are so familiar now, you could probably draw them in your sleep. You know the way they move against yours. You know how it feels when he smiles against your mouth–which he does often, and right now.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs again. This time, the word is dark and full of underlying emotion–love, affection, friendship, pride–and you grin back as you kiss him once more.

“What now?” you ask with a little laugh.

“I have a few ideas,” he husks in your ear, inaudible to anyone else, before pulling back. “But right now?” he shrugs. “Anything you want. Everything.”

“What if I said that all I wanted was you?”

Marcus’s eyes soften. “Well, honey,” he says gently, “you’re in luck, because that’s the one thing I can give you.”

The end.

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