#others featured: marc

[straightline-bow]

okay holding myself accountable by posting a beginning snippet of my sebchalewis fic here, before i decide i dislike it or alternatively forget about it! set at the end of 2025, where charles has won his first wdc (touch wood) and lewis is looking back at how on earth he didn’t win his 8th. i’ve put most of it under the cut (i don’t want to clutter up the main tags!). entirely untitled as of yet 🙃

lewis is still caught in the memories - mesmerising green eyes that shift languidly as beams of sunlight haloed his skin, face turned up to greet the dawn of a new day, a newly familiar sight and ritual addition to lewis’ race weekend.

charles was -

there were no words, really.

he was: caught up in his own mythology and the myth of ferrari, fiendishly self-assured with (unfortunately) the skills to back his arrogance up. he was: beloved - by one, by all - and so much the epitome of ferrari that lewis wondered if seb’s famous quote included him, too; if everyone was a fan of charles, even those who hated him for his driving or his winning or his golden smile.

charles was everything he’d been warned of, twelve months ago, and nothing that he’d thought to exploit. mysterious smirking grins even at his most vulnerable, able to hold out a knife to the world and say “yes, this is where you can cut me open. this is where you can make me bleed for you, for your story”, a thousand little mistakes he’d assumed were inherent to the driver actually coming from overdriving a car that didn’t respond to him - that vanished the instant he got one that did.

lewis felt insane.

charles was held so gently by the hands of the world, with even his fiercest competitors accepting of his championship win - and proud of him even, proud to see him succeed in his-their- greatest dream, even as they failed. for fuck’s sake, lewis is pretty sure he saw both max verstappen and george russell at charles’ victory party, and god above knows how little either of those competitors liked to celebrate anyone other than them winning.

max was max - lewis was pretty sure he took pleasure in his ‘true rival’ winning ahead of lewis, he’d probably take anyone winning ahead of lewis. but george was another story - george was only ever truly happy when he was winning, and lewis was pretty sure he would only deign to congratulate lewis’ wins to keep the team onside. sure, george had clearly been a fan of lewis growing up, but it becomes very hard to separate on-track from off-track in formula one, and lewis was sure at least a few of those instagram stories had been made begrudgingly. and yet there he was, looking genuinely thrilled at charles’ luck and victory. lewis was pretty sure he’d even seen fernando congratulating charles, which was just - bizarre. he didn’t have another word for it. and seb? seb was practically part of the centre of the party, him and charles and max all together in a little world where two of the worst losers lewis had ever known turned around and practically worshipped charles’ title.

so he’d gone to valentino. ever since 2020 they’d truly become friends, but even before that they’d gone to the same kinds of parties, mixed with the same crowds, and lewis had caught vale in a number of compromising positions with a number of different people over the years, and vice versa. he appreciated vale more than he could say, truly. for a while, vale had been the only other bisexual motorsports pilot he’d known, aside from ralf schumacher, which - no. lewis was happy for that particular relationship to stay one of mutual dislike, quite frankly.

he’d even sent vale a couple texts in 2015, sending his condolences over the lost title and lost relationship (although, from what vale and his friends had said, it was probably a good thing). having later got the full explanation from his friend, lewis knew that he was the best person to turn to over his feeling from the season. if anyone could tell if he was being manipulated by someone pretending not to care, it was vale.

[laeana]

Pecco & Jorge's dynamics at the Australian GP

(me trying to put my "expert" 🤓 glasses on and overanalyzing what happened? more than likely. you're free not to read and just enjoy the gifs as well!)

Cool room in Australia

Preface would be to say that of course Jorge and Pecco have different dynamics. You could think that they don't regret no longer having a relationship, but their past friendship, and the fact that they have known each other well, probably played a role in how their championship rivalry is right now. There's no animosity, they joke and chat a lot.

We know Jorge to be very talkative, and pretty chatty, and as we could see in their previous interactions, he's often the one that talks the most whenever they're together, but Pecco listens to him, or even adds to the conversation, they often try to debrief their races together. What's more rare is the opposite of that happening, namely, Pecco talking the most and trying to engage the most, searching for Jorge's attention, which is something that I found to be happening in Australia's cool room.

As we can see in his gestures, Pecco is really trying to interact with Jorge here, he's trying to show him what happened to Marc, despite the fact that Marc is explaining it, he even makes hand and body gestures (which I found cute tbh).

He also tries to engage in the conversation. Jorge and Marc battled for most of the race, so they are very chatty with each other, which can be seen as unusual. Most of the time when Jorge and Pecco are together in a cool room, it can create a lot of thirdwheeling situation for the third person, but here it's far from the case. Hence Pecco trying to talk about himself and to take the focus, his body stays turned toward Jorge, and not toward Marc.

Here another example where Pecco intervened to also talk about his own race. His body is still slightly turned toward Jorge, and Jorge does pay attention to what he's saying.

And the last one about this cool room, where Pecco more explicitely shows that he's trying to get Jorge's attention, turning his head toward him as he's speaking and gesturing, and they truly talk for a bit (it's Jorge who says "it was incredible", not Pecco for example).

Now, Pecco could have ignored the talk or just shrugged it off, but he tried to monopolize the attention, and not just anyone's, but Jorge's. It's typically a case where their dynamics are reversed, and it really shows how they do still care about each other's, about interacting, despite "no longer having relationship".

Pre press conference (post race)

In terms of interactions, their relationship uses a lot of teasing, a lot of moments where they test the limit of whatever they call what they have now (I guess the most accurate would be rivalry as they fight for the championship, but it does feel weird when you compliment your rival H24 about his skills and else *side eyes at Jorge*).

The teasing is mostly done by Jorge, as he's more of an extrovert, but Pecco can also answer to it. In general, Pecco shows more of care about Jorge in the way he keeps information about him or his races. You can, however, see some longing in the way they act toward each other.

The way Jorge is so leaning forward, attentive to what Pecco is saying, and the way it makes them both smile and laugh about what they’re saying, is another example of how they get along well. You'd almost think that their friendship was never lost in those extracts, and yet it's two men who aren't supposed to be even friends.

It's debrief in a similar way that they couldn't do before. But we can see that Pecco still vividly remember what corner Jorge was wide, and Jorge just admits to it. In general from Jorge's gestures here, or even Pecco's gestures before, we can see that they're pretty expressive in terms of body language whenever they're talking (read: yapping) at each other. The conversation started with Marc, but it's an instance where he somehow ends up in the background while the both of them are focused mainly on each other. It also appears to me that Jorge is waiting for Pecco to be ready and then clap his hand (not his ass this time).

Press conference (post race)

So like we could establish before, they are seeking for the limits of the non relationship that they now have, but they also often try to reaffirm if the other still cares about them by asking questions, doing teasing, or simply interacting.

The next gifs show how they both are trying to tread on their relationship cautiously, to get some attention, in different ways. First Pecco and then Jorge.

The conversation starts between Jorge and Marc about where Jorge is going. We can see that Pecco is moving his head to try to see Jorge better but also to establish eyes contact with him. The fact Marc is in between them is a bit of an obstacle, we can also observe that he tries to talk first but only manages to ask his question after this. He stares pretty long at Jorge, his attention directly went to him, and to what he just said. (If I was going further, I'd say he almost stares at him longingly, waiting to be seen, waiting to be able to grab Jorge's attention and to redirect the conversation.)

It's an interesting scene as well. So first Pecco finally manages to ask his question and to get Jorge's attention. Then he says "careful hey" but when Jorge doesn't get it, and he even leans forward to listen to Pecco, showing his interest for him, Pecco changes what he said and tells him that he'll get there quickly. I've been trying to ponder on why he would change what he said, it's nothing scandalous, nothing that had to be changed. There's no apparent reason, so I'm going to mostly interpret it. The way he looks, a vacant look, makes it appear like he isn't thinking much about what he's saying, maybe that he didn't even mean to say that out loud. Him telling Jorge to be careful does seem like he cares about him, but it doesn't seem like it was his intention for it to be heard. When Jorge goes "huh?", Pecco's eyes immediately snaps to him, in an almost frantic manner and he blurts out something else, like he can't be this vulnerable to him. He doesn't know if he can be this vulnerable to him, admit so freely he cares, when he doesn't know where their relationship stands at.

Jorge is notably afraid of heights, and he confesses his fear of doing so. However I’m uncertain whether Pecco knows about it, as we don’t know when Jorge developed this fear and it could have been after their moto3 years. When he said he's scared of going by helicopter, Pecco doesn't seem to believe him, he seems to think he's teasing/mocking him, with the way he shakes his head in disbelief with a smile. With Jorge's body language, the way he's leaned forward, you can guess that he meant to tell that in particular to Pecco. He has no real reasons to go on about how he's scared of height, but with the way he's looking at Pecco, you can clearly think that he's trying to get a reaction out of him, to interact with him but also to see him show some concern. However with the tone with which he brings it, with humor, while slightly laughing to deflect it, as he doesn't want the topic to be too heavy, it also fails to convey seriousness to his words.

In this last bits of discussion, Jorge is very dramatic. He's playing on his own fear of heights within it. But he also chooses to use it in a way that he can bring back to what his current relationship with Pecco is composed of, namely the championship. So he asks Pecco if he'd die, would he let him win. We can see that Pecco is confused by the question, and Jorge details it by saying that he wouldn't race, and Pecco goes no! in a what are you even talking about kind of way, a smile on his face. Now you may wonder why Jorge is bringing that up. We've seen how earlier, he tried to get a reaction from Pecco, hoping for him to show some concern. It's somewhat similar here, it's almost a "do you still care about me enough" wrapped under jokes and dramatization. "Do I still count enough for you to let me win it if I die? Am I still in your thoughts and in your heart enough so that if something that dramatic would happen, taking away any chance of reconciliation, you'd do that for me?" The body language is also pretty interesting here. Although we can see Marc is in the middle of them, he is slighty out of it, as the conversation ended up being about the two of them. Jorge even adjusts his position so he can slightly turn his body, and his head is entirely turn to his left, eyes on Pecco. And Pecco's head is turned toward Jorge, with his eyes totally on him as well, and when he turns his head back in front of him, the conversation ends.

My take from all of this

Pecco and Jorge are of course pretty different in terms of personality. Despite it all, they were able of forming a strong bond during their years when they were teammates in moto3, although that friendship has withered through time. So how do you go from a time where they would even share a bed to one where they aren't even close? Jorge said that it's mainly because of the separation (so a probable lack of effort to bridge the gap).

I do find it a bit weird that it's supposedly the only cause, because I feel like you don't fall out this intensely from someone you used to get along so well, without something bigger happening.

Plus, we can see that even as of now, they still get along well. Despite the fact that they are rivals, they aren't hateful toward each other, they aren't annoyed by each other or getting pissed every weekend.

More than that, we can see that they interact a lot, talk a lot, debrief their races together, tend to make whoever is on the podium with them third wheel, and we can observe that they seek each other's attention, to the point where their dynamics can reverse, and what you'd expect less (Pecco taking the initiative, imposing himself in the conversation, trying to get Jorge to talk with him) happens as well.

They still care for each other; hints of bitterness or of fondness in their tones, teasing, jokes, trying to gauge where their relationship is at and if there are still some feelings, or not at all.

They really do seem like they're missing each other, but do not know how to overcome what their relationship has become, so they try to live with it, finding familiarity in the ways they can interact.

[freylycoris]

I thought it's best to upload them together again since I wanted to make clear the POV on the picture is from the other person's eyes. Marc noted Nathaniel's lineart and dynamic poses back in Reverser. He is a writer, so I stuck to the main features that stick out on Nathaniel, those you would describe first in fiction (his hair, his eyes, his freckles and the splotches on his clothes.) While the rest is monochrome, his pose is still dynamic and strong. I still kept a messier lineart style in some places for Nathaniel's lack of impulse control haha While I think that Nathaniel would obviously see all the colors radiating from Marc, typical rose-tinted glasses view. Idk if it was on purpose, but the moment Marc and him became friends and started to work on comics, Nathaniel's comics were suddenly in color opposed to just lineart. Idk if it was meant to mean smth, but I'll headcanon it as such. All in all, I wanted Marc to look soft and gentle and warm <3

[intheupside]

Sami Kapanen made an astute observation about the secret communication between Sidney Crosby and Marc-Andre Fleury during the World Cup match between Finland and Canada.

Monday night's World Cup match between Canada and Finland featured not only top-notch hockey but also a bit of trickery. MTV Sports expert Sami Kapanen watched from the bench as Sidney Crosby and Marc-Andre Fleury put their experience to good use.

In the second period, just before Canada took the lead, Crosby signaled Fleury by tapping his kneepad. Moments later, Fleury knelt down and began adjusting his equipment, as if there was a problem with it.

– This season we bought 10–15 seconds more recovery time. Crosby and Fleury have known each other for years, they know what to do, Kapanen analyzed.

oh??

[rosesanddecay]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

[threegoldfish]

Plotted AU-starter for @preemptivejustice

He does not want to be here.

Fuck, no, Marc does not want to be where he is right now. Does not want to be at this place - doesn't want to exist within this room right now, the building, the city, even. A part of him also doesn't want to be in this country, actually - if he could, he would even leave the planet behind and... fuck off to whatever-land.

Anywhere but here, anywhere but... now.

Granted, people have been rather nice to him so far - nicer than expected. But they're still doing their job, and he's still mentally unstable, apparently. He's served food, they've shown him his new surroundings, his room, explained to him which stuff he's allowed to have and which he is not; Good, yeah, that's good, whatever.

But Marc is still here, and he doesn't want to be here. He wants to go back where he belongs, wants to go back to what feels familiar to him - wants to wear a different uniform than what he is currently asked to wear: A white sweatshirt, white sweatpants, loafers. At least it's comfortable, but... it's different, and it's not what he wants.

Nothing is like what he wants, honestly.

If he only hadn't done that stupid thing he cannot even remember having done in the first place. He's got no memory of it besides... besides waking up in the washroom with his hands and clothes covered in blood, with his own face staring back at him from the mirror above the sink, sweaty and dirty and red and---

---Eyes squeezing shut, with Marc bringing a hand up to his face, fingers pressing against those covered eyeballs. He's seeing stars for a moment there in return because of that pressure he applies, but then those digits pinch the bridge of his nose instead, accompanied by a deep inhale of a breath he's been holding onto for too long.

He doesn't want to be here. Doesn't want to sit in front of a fucking desk made of glass where the supposed Doctor is sitting and staring at him, surrounded by white, clean walls and clean decorations and clean windows and clean, sterile air---

---A noise suddenly pulls him out of wherever the fuck he'd been within his thoughts; Did that man just speak to him? If he did, Marc didn't understand a single thing. He blinks his eyes back open and lowers his hand, then allows dark irises to flick up and meet the gaze of the other - brows knit, a hesitant, displeased expression on Marc's own, tired features.

"...Huh?"

[shadowuserannie]

That's the...second? Mind-control-related akuma we've had this season. Not so bad until you realize both akuma were in the Penalteam hero solo eps.

...So. Making a bet, will Marc's solo ep feature a mind-control akuma again?

(also excited for Nathaniel to show up as support for Marc since Marc showed up to support his bf plenty this ep)

Marc's episode is also likely going to focus on bullying or homophobia from others, rather than his parents since we've seen them and they're decently accepting. They liked the script which I assume included the gay kiss, and there were no comments on Marc's clothes or makeup. Also since Nath's episode touched on homophobia from one's family but acceptance from others so Marc should show the other side of that coin.

[arinzeture]

Today we are featuring Uncle Bobbie’s Coffee & Bookstore in Philadelphia, PA.

Uncle Bobbie's

Cafe & Store Hours

​

Monday: 8:00am - 2:00pm

Tuesday - Sunday: 10:00am - 5:00pm​

​

Location: 5445 Germantown Ave, Philadelphia, PA 19144

ABOUT

Uncle Bobbie's Coffee & Books is a coffee shop and bookstore located in the heart of the Germantown section of Philadelphia. Founded by Marc Lamont Hill in 2017, Uncle Bobbie's was created to provide underserved communities with access to books and a space where everyone feels valued.

In addition to our specially curated book selection, we also serve high quality coffee, food products, and more, including apparel and children's games. We are also a community space that holds free author talks, workshops, and other events, including weekly story time for kids and back to school drives.

Uncle Bobbie's Coffee & Books

[barcapix]

https://youtu.be/Ggnv_MQNB-4?feature=shared

^This right here with lovesick Marc Bernal might me the death of me

✮ Crimson Kisses - Marc Bernal

marc bernal x fem!reader

sy: trying the lipstick smudge challenge with marc.

a/n: you ask and you shall receive. BUT ONG im not even kidding u rn i started tearing up at my grown age. ADORABLE IDEA.

warnings: zero.

marc held an admiringly, lovesick grin plastered on his face the whole time you were explaining this trend to him, and you wondered if he was even paying attention.

his eyes were slightly glassy, sore and glistening as they mapped out every crevice of your face. they wandered to your eyes, your nose, lingering on your lips and forehead until they finally began dotting around at the small indignant moles and freckles that outlined your skin.

he held you close on your sofa, so close, that you could sense his heartbeat pumping increasingly rapid with every second that passed from looking at you. his arm was draped around your back and rested on your hip, his other drawing consistent straight lines up and down your calves—whilst you had your head resting on his shoulder, your right arm failing as you explained.

“so, what do you think? will you try it with me?” you said at last, pausing breathlessly.

marc blinked, snapping out of his daydream. “hm? do what?”

“marc!” you playfully swat his chest, “are you kidding me right now? i’ve been explaining for a good five minutes!”

“yeah, it was music to my ears,” he grins.

“marc,” you say warningly with a frown.

“alright okay, im sorry mi vida, but how can i concentrate when your staring at me like that?” he counters sweetly, crawling his hand from your leg to cradle your jaw. “it’s near impossible.”

unfortunately, his sweet talk did always make you crumble. So ultimately, you struggled to even muster up any words to counteract.

you looked down, grumbling something under your breath, silently cursing him for making you feel like this. he laughed, hooking his finger under your chin to make you look back up.

“go on amor, explain it to me again,” he encouraged, his tone buoyant but also genuine. as if he hadn’t already made your breath hitch enough, he just made it worse.

you fought the tidal wave of embarrassment rising to your cheeks, and pulled out your phone to try and distract yourself.

“i’ll just show you instead, it’s probably easier.” you muttered, your palms slightly sweaty as you flickered amongst tiktok reels. marc pressed a delicate kiss to your hair, agreeing.

there, you found it. you reflected it into his eyesight, the gentle melody of ‘k.’ overpowering your uncoordinated breathing pattern.

the hopelessly devoted loverboy that he was, placed his hand over yours on the phone, like even a few seconds without touching you was unbearable.

the video ends, and marc’s face grows to be half confused, half interested. “so where’s the lipstick bebè?”

“i came prepared,” you whip out a maroon-wine lipstick case from your hoodies pocket, swiping the lid off.

he smiled, “so either way, you were gonna make me do this no matter what i said?” he inquired, raising a brow.

“duh, obviously,” you scoff, “sometimes cariño you can be so gullible. when have you ever skipped a couples trend with me?”

“if we consider how many times it was against my free will then… one.” he tried to sigh dismally, but couldn’t deny the smirk growing on his lips.

“..hm anyway,” you click your tongue and shuffle away from him briefly to balance the phone in your hand like a compact mirror. “let me set this up.”

marc groaned from the loss of contact, the dull and cold air piercing him which you had previously shielded him from.

almost immediately, when you started to apply the lipstick, your boyfriend edges closer to you, trying to force you back into your old position. when you don’t budge, he’s inclined to sit up and perch on the end of the cushion.

you pout into the camera, smiling fondly at the change in lip colour. you swiftly turn to face him, cheekily smirking.

“well what are you waiting for babe? come here,” he encouraged hastily, slinging an arm over your waist to help you scoot over.

rolling your eyes at his dramatic tone, you gently climbed onto his lap, cupping his face with both of your hands. marc stayed perfectly still, though his hazel eyes sparkled with anticipation.

the first kiss landed on his cheek, and he let out a soft, contented sigh. “one down,”

you laughed and planted another painted kiss in the corner of his mouth, slightly teasing him by missing his lips. he tried to turn his head to reach for your lips, but you dodged and kissed his jaw.

his cheeks flushed, his confident smirk faltering as he tried and failed to hide just how euphoric he felt. “your really enjoying this,” you teased between kisses.

“of course i am,” he replied slightly breathless, “keep going.”

you continued to pepper kisses on every inch of his skin—his chin, his temple, even the bridge of his nose fell victim to your ambush.

when you finally finished, you pulled back, his face was a masterpiece of personalised, smudged scarlet-red marks.

instead of complaining, he beamed up at you, his expression so openly besotted that it made your heart palpate. “so how do i look?” he slurred slowly, a hand reaching to his cheek where your lips had been.

“somehow even more handsome,” you snorted, “but also like a walking art project if you squint.”

adjusting yourself and crawling back onto the sofa, you balance your phone on the table infront of you. marc watched you with a quiet amusement, his hands never leaving your waist whilst casually dipping underneath the hem of your hoodie.

“your really committed to this huh? like a focus of a surgeon,” he mocked, weaving his fingers between yours.

“this has to be perfect marc, we’re not half-assing it.” you shot back with a small laugh.

once the camera pinned onto you, you attempted to break away from his hand, ready to press record until he grabbed it back, lacing your fingers between his again.

“marc baby,” you coo, tilting your head, “i need my hand to record it, i can’t do it with just one.”

marc huffed, not annoyingly, but more so of a ‘yes you can, don’t make excuses,’ type of huff. he reluctantly pried his hand away, but once you were free, he relaxed his hand on your thigh and already began carving your name on your skin.

“okay are you ready?” you ask him, thumbs hovering over the record button. he gives you a silent nod, an intrigued smile playing on his lips.

the melody started, the soft and dreamy opening lyrics filling the room. the camera was aimed on you, turning your head just enough to show the smeared lipstick on your lips. the lyrics singing:

‘stay with me, i don’t want you to leave..’

on cue, his thumb reaches into shot and smooths over the unordinary smear as you looked over his way and grinned.

then you panned it to marc, his eyes locked on yours with so much rekindled love; the numerous lipstick kisses tainting his tanned skin and marking him as yours. absentmindedly, he brought you into a kiss with his fingers grazing your chin—the camera still rolling.

he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, his pearly whites in direct contrast to the fury pink blush rising on his cheeks. his hands on you were steady, like he had all the time in the world.

the music cuts, the recording ended, as you broke this kiss—his eyes still stayed on you, like he couldn’t bare to look away. they were soft, circling imaginary hearts around yours with his sight, an impeccable grin stretching across his entire face.

he was lost in you.

“your staring,” you hummed, waving a hand infront of his eyes.

the spaniard blinked, as if snapping out of another trance. “huh?” he clears his throat, “yeah..well.. i can’t help it.”

“marc,” you laughed gently. “your not supposed to act that into it, and im now convinced your like a secret actor or something.”

“i can’t act to save my life, that was all real,” he leans in, his breath fanning onto your face. he draws you in closer, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were his only prized possession.

“now what do you say about round two? i’m up for it mi amorè.”

[probablyasocialecologist]

The Overton Window appears to have shifted with regard to the acceptability of political violence against elites and their property, in other words. And in this climate, an artist and freelance writer is selling an Iraqi Most Wanted-style deck of cards with the home addresses of Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, John Roberts, Marc Andreessen, and 48 others printed on them, through a website online. Justin Caffier classifies his “America’s Most Powerful” cards as an art project. It’s a parody of the infamous playing card decks that the US military once handed out to soldiers in Iraq to help them identify top members of Saddam Hussein’s government during the war for capture and/or assassination. Saddam was pictured on the ace of spades, his sons on the aces of clubs and diamonds, and so on. Caffier’s deck features individuals he has deemed “most powerful” players in the United States; tech titans-cum-oligarchs like Musk and Thiel. Supreme Court Justices. The BlackRock and Goldman Sachs CEOs. Defense tech contractors like Palantir’s Alex Karp. Zuckerberg, Bezos. Salesforce CEO Marc Benioff. The list goes on. Each card features a portrait of the individual, their name, and their home address. Caffier made 53 copies of the “art” decks, he told me, and he is selling them online for one million dollars each. (In addition to the “art” decks, he is also selling “merch” decks for $25, with publicly listed office addresses.)

[...]

Caffier made a list of names of the millionaires and billionaires and power brokers he would include in such a deck, and turned the skills he’d honed as an investigative reporter towards tracking down their apparent home addresses. He located each of the addresses by connecting the dots laid out in publicly available information, he says. As a rule, he didn’t use any paid services to obtain the addresses. “It was hardly as simple as putting ‘Jeff Bezos home address’ into Google,” Caffier told me. “I had to get creative with my methodology to find leads and then double back to cross reference once I think I found a hit. There were many red herrings and many hours spent on stuff I just wasn’t able to confirm.”

18 April 2025

[jayke0]

And They Were Roommates

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

Summary: You catch your roommate, Marc, having some private time, and it's only when he comes at the sight of you that something inside you is released.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: Friends to lovers?, Male masturbation, fluffy/soft sex, Marc being insecure at first cuz he hasn't had his chode ridden in a while, some nipple play (f receiving), protected sex (pill), mention of female masturbation, p in v, breeding if you squint, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 2,275

A/N: Uhmmmm so i accidentally posted this too early, so if you see it please reblog so it reaches others! Thankyouuuu

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………......................………………………………….

Marc Spector had always found himself to be a very private man. You're lucky to have even gotten a glimpse at his phone that one time, given how precisely he guards what little personal belongings he has and hides his emotions behind a stone-cold glare.

That's why he always waits for you to go out before he touches himself.

He'd gotten into the habit of it after realizing the wall dividing your bedrooms is so paper thin that he could hear every word the character was saying on whatever show you'd been watching at the time.

The anticipation; the waiting was always the worst. You'd take your sweet sweet time getting ready and checking your shopping list, only to forget something and come back 2 minutes later; luckily, he'd gotten used to that part too. Though, as much as he pretended he hated it, he actually found it quite endearing; a little quirk of yours that made you so fucking adorable to him.

“I'll be back in an hour!” Marc hears your voice echo through the hall, simply responding with a grunt that was somewhere along the lines of ‘alright’. He hears that first front door slam and waits a couple of minutes, before excitedly scrambling to his bedroom, cock already twitching at the prospect of release.

He'd had a particularly hard few days (pun intended), and with you deciding you didn't want to venture out, he was left to let his mind wander, only to blueball-ball himself in the process.

He's quick to grab his earphones and settle down comfortably in his bed, pulling his t-shirt off swiftly and practically ripping his jeans off. It doesn't take long before he's got his cock in hand, fisting his throbbing length harshly as girly moans fill his ears and do wonders for his imagination.

Oh, how he tries not to think about you. He knows It's creepy, and he knows that if you found out you'd probably kick him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, but it's so hard. His thumb swipes over the tip, collecting the beads of precum and spreading it over himself.

You're always so perfect, so gorgeous. The sun always seems to land on your face beautifully and illuminate each of your features. He twists his hand expertly and pulls a string of breathy gasps from his chest as he squeezes the tip.

The way you walk through the living room in just a towel, dripping wet; it's almost like you're tempting him.

He's now frantically thrusting into his hand at the image in his mind, low moans and growls escaping through his gritted teeth as his head tilts back and the tendons in his neck bulge at the stretch. That coil is tightening faster that he can control, his brain foggy with thoughts of you, just you you you. The thoughts are so close that he swears he can hear you calling his name, begging him to ruin your cunt and fill you u–.

A cold feeling runs through his body as his head shoots up, his eyes meeting your shocked gaze. Unfortunately for him, that's exactly what he needed as he's sent tumbling over the edge. Hot white ropes spill from his ruddy tip and splatter across his toned chest, huffed moans and curses falling from his lips as he fucks his hand through his orgasm.

It's only when he finally opens his eyes again that the guilt hits him and he scrambles to pull his boxers back up, trying to put his still throbbing cock away.

“Fuck, I'm so sorry, didn't realise you were there! I- I had my headphones in–.” He pulls them out, trying to wipe the evidence of his sins off of his chest, but your soft hand stops him; yes, you had gotten closer.

You watch as his dark eyes trail up your arm to your face, a cocktail of dread, fear, and… something else, all brewing in his gaze; it makes you want him even more.

“I'm not mad, Marc.”

“Creeped out, then?...”

Your thumb runs over his knuckles, feeling how warm and soft his hands are. “No. I mean, I probably should be, but fuck,” your eyes are drawn to his twitching length fighting against the restraints of his tight boxers. Carefully, you crawl onto the bed, straddling his legs far enough away from his body so he can push you off if he's uncomfortable.

You inch closer to him, “ ‘s this ok?” Hands either side of his thighs, your words are soft and breathy, your eyes gazing at him with a look that is sickeningly sweet.

It makes his head wurl, a tight feeling constricting in his chest as the prettiest girl in the world sits virtually in his lap. “Yes–” his voice breaks, making you chuckle softly. “Yeah, it's more than ok.” His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, and you feel it as you place your hands on his chest to shuffle closer to him.

“You looked so handsome like that, Marc.” You compliment with a smile, leaning in to brush your lips across his and feel him take in a sharp breath. He catches your lips and pecks them with adoration, letting a longer kiss linger on them as you press closer to him still. After a few seconds, he moves his hands to rest on your waist, one running up your back to cup the back of your head as he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth, and you happily oblige.

Months worth of feelings are poured into the kiss, both of you slowly and softly lapping and sucking at each other's lips before you dissolve into panting messes, biting and licking fiercely as if trying to eat each other whole.

“God damn, Spector, you're a great kisser,” you giggle softly, pulling from his lips to appreciate the shiny and red mess you'd made of him. A familiar growl rumbles in his chest, one that you'd learnt was an appreciative noise rather than something to be put off by.

“You can talk, y'know. You're not gonna scare me off.”

Briefly, you see insecurity paint across his face. It's something that you'd never seen before, a small crack in the otherwise solid structure of his frigid expression. On instinct, you brush his curls from his forehead and cup his cheeks, “I trust you, Marc, it's ok. I'm not here to judge you.”

His shoulders seem to relax as he nods a little, “I'm sorry. I don't do this often, if you hadn't noticed.”

You laugh softly and pat his chest, “that's ok, neither do I,” you smile as you sit back on your heels and pull your t-shirt off over your head. You take his hands gently and place them on your breasts, “none of them were you.”

You swear that you see him change in that moment, your words sinking in and his eyes turning hungry. His thumbs run over your hardening nipples as he surges forwards to seize you in another burning kiss that has you hot and breathless this time.

“Jesus, Marc…” a soft whine is pulled from your lips as he glides his lips down and over your neck, focusing on the pulse point below your jaw by nibbling and sucking softly. He's surprisingly quick at unclasping your bra, and he pulls away a little to admire your body.

“Shit, you're gorgeous,” he mumbles, thumbs running underneath your boobs before they work up and run across your nipples, making a gasp get caught in your throat. “You always have been gorgeous. I always look at you and think ‘fuck how doesn't she have a boyfriend yet?’”

“ ‘Cause I've been waiting to fuck my roommate…” You chuckle softly, feeling him chuckle too as his head dips to your chest and he takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue sliding over and swirling around the hard bud in a way that leaves you grinding against his thigh. Suddenly, your jeans feel so restricting, like they're choking you, stopping you from appreciating any pleasure that Marc offers you, which is why you're quick to unbutton them and slip them off… All while your roommate sucks on your tits.

“God. Do you know how many times I've touched myself hoping you’d catch me?” Your words are breathless as your body rolls against his mouth and a pleased noise from the man reverberates over your nipple. “Left my door open just a crack in hopes my moans would grab your attention, and you'd come and fuck me right…”

He audibly groans at that, pulling away to look at you again while his hands travel to your waistband.

”You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear that.”

He hungrily pulls your underwear down your thighs and off with his own following soon after, leaving you both naked and messily grinding against each other as you're caught up in yet another kiss.

You glance down eventually, being treated with the glorious sight of his thick cock throbbing and spilling pre-cum… Or maybe it's cum from his previous orgasm, either way it makes you clench your toes.

“It's bigger when I'm this close,” a nervous chuckle leaves your lips.

“I know, I know. That's also why I don't fuck much.” He laughs breathily and grips his length at the base, running it between your sopping folds and circling your clit perfectly. You grind down on his tip with a moan and pant.

“We don't have too, if you don't want to.” He reminds softly, pressing a few more kisses on your jaw, but you're quick to shake your head and grip his shoulders, “I need you inside me, Marc. Needed it since the day i fucking met you.”

You certainly don't have to tell him twice.

He's sinking inside you before you can even process his tip probing your hole. It's such a delicious stretch, one that spreads throughout your body and along your nerves. You sink down on him further, wanting to sheath him inside you whole.

You'd like to think that Marc knows you're on birth control, given the endless packets and the way you often rant to him about the imperfections of the drug. You're hoping he knows this, because you're hoping he cums inside you.

“Fucking hell Marc, shit…” You pant softly and look down between your bodies, your hands holding onto his shoulders As he grips your waist and guides you; down down down till you're sat in his lap.

You feel so full like that, and honestly you could probably just roll your hips and cum right there, but it's not long before your roommate is lifting you off of himself just to impale you once again. A rush of pleasure runs through your veins and makes your cunt clench around the girth, both of you groaning as you capture his lips again.

“Dammit… you're lucky you're hot, or I would've kicked you out–ah- for being a creep–”

“You were the one watching me stroke my fucking cock. You liked it deep down.” The man growls on your lips, making a whimper rise in your throat as you nod a little, dumbly. His breath is hot on your lips, each of your moans being swallowed by laboured gasps from the other as his hips rock up.

Although the pace isn't fast, you already feel wrecked. The stretch is so fucking good, and the way he hits your sweet spot everytime has you weak at the knees for this man, your groans turning into gasps and drawn out moans.

“M-arc, honey, I'm not gonna last much longer…” You whine pathetically, but this only makes him move faster, now bringing you down on his cock as he thrusts up harshly and sends waves of pleasure through you as he does so. “That's it, baby. Wanna feel you cum All over my cock; cum all over your roommate's cock… shit, you're so filthy, sweetheart.”

His words have your nails digging into his shoulders, your thighs burning as they finally give up and you let Marc use you, use your cunt for his own damn pleasure. The whole idea has you arching your back, and finally, with your shaky fingers circling your clit, you go crashing over that edge. Your thighs instantly clench together as whorish moans are pulled from your lungs and fill the room, ecstasy washing over you in waves and taking you to a place that you didn't even know existed, not until Marc.

Your clenching cunt is what finishes Marc off, that and the beautiful sounds you make as you come. Your walls milk him dry, taking every drop from him and more as he fills your cunt with that delicious warmth.

You sink back down on him finally and practically collapse into his chest, your arms wrapping around His torso tightly as you try and catch your breath.

The warmth that spreads through Marc's heart in that moment is almost unbearable. It's a feeling he's wanted for a long time, one that he doesn't even know how long will last, but he's sure as hell is not gonna waste it worrying.

You feel his large arms wrap around you tightly, a kiss placed on your shoulder, and then his warm breath sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Never took you as a cuddler, Marc Spector.” You mumble softly into his chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of his heart as it slows to a comforting pace.

“I'm full of surprises, sweetheart.”

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @cupidysm @clemdango04 @flowercrownonapegion @spxctorsslxt

[ivystoryweaver]

'Twas the Night Before - Marc Spector

Marc + falling asleep together for @ladywynne

Winter Wonderland Fluff Ficlets | Marc Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Christmas night and Hanukkah 1st night are both Dec. 25 this year and I'm REAL excited!

Notes: Word Count 2.5k, Christmas & Hanukkah, gn!reader, kissing and flirting. Vague references to Marc's past but it's not angst. Marc is a flirty boy. He's younger than in the Moon Knight series (late 20s instead of late 30s). Just go with it. Overuse of italics, not beta'd.

You don’t believe it.

Even though you see him with your own eyes, you can’t actually believe Marc Spector is standing in his childhood driveway, which sits directly across the street from your childhood driveway.

From your old bedroom window, you can see him pause as his hands land on his hips. He’s facing away from you, but you watch his head drop as if he needs a moment to collect his thoughts or steel himself.

Resisting the urge to bang on the window, or open it and shout his name, you pause as his father, Elias throws open the front door.

Marc must hear his name, but not from you, because he finally looks up, waving halfheartedly before collecting a carryon size suitcase from the trunk of the car he drove up in. After grabbing a backpack from the passenger seat, he trudges up the walk, pausing momentarily before accepting his father’s handshake.

Even from your vantage point, you notice the tension he holds in his shoulders - broader and sturdier than they were the last time you saw him. When you were teenagers. Children, really.

His father claps him gently on the back before leading him inside.

Quite nonchalantly dressed in the cutest outfit you brought with you on the trip (besides your Christmas attire), you march the distance to your neighbor’s house, armed with a paper invitation to your mom and step-dad’s Christmas Eve/holiday party.

Elias would have received an invitation a few weeks back, but you want to be sure that Marc knows he’s invited.

And you want to see him.

Elias graciously accepts your invitation, promising to pass it along to Marc, who is out at the market. You express your disappointment in missing him, and Elias remarks how grown-up you look, and how he agrees that Marc has to see you during his brief visit. Finally, Elias invites you over for the first night of Hanukkah.

“Hey there, need some help?”

Yearning mingles with relief and excitement as you hear the soft tenor of Marc Spector’s voice later that afternoon.

Grocery bags in hand, you whirl around to see him - really, finally see him. No taller, but more handsome. He’s grown into his features. Some people are cuter as kids, while others grow into their best look as adults. Marc was never unfortunate looking, but adulthood suits him wonderfully.

His dark curls are longer than you’ve ever seen them, but styled neatly off his face, despite the rebellious curl or two threatening to fall across his serious, coffee colored eyes. Jaw squared, his throat bobs, full lips parting as he utters your name.

"You’re home for Christmas.”

You smile at him brilliantly.

“You’re home for Hanukkah.”

He quickly nods, reaching, without invitation, into the trunk of your mother’s car to retrieve the rest of the grocery bags. “Same day this year.”

"I know, I thought of you once I noticed it on the calendar.”

His eyes find yours. “You thought of me?”

“Of course,” you nod toward his childhood home. “I think of you every year when I come home, always wondering if this is the year I’ll see the elusive Marc Spector.”

Something darkens his countenance. You can guess what. But he grants you a wry smile anyway. “Lead the way.”

You do so, feeling your heart thump in your chest as he follows you up the front walk, through your front door, all the way into your kitchen as you announce, "Mom, look who I found!”

Your mom squeals in excitement to see the young man she used to know, rushing him through setting down his grocery bags on the kitchen island so she can give him a proper hug.

You hover closely, making sure she releases Marc at an appropriately brief interval. You don’t want him bristling and uncomfortable in your home. Not during the holidays, or ever.

Pleasantries are exchanged, Marc is offered a sizeable sugar cookie in the shape of a dreidel, which makes him chuckle. He nods for you to take one as well, and you choose one shaped like a candy cane, if only to keep him from eating his alone.

"Why don’t you two go downstairs and I’ll bring you some tea or coffee…or cocoa?” Your mom offers, that matchmaking twinkle in her eye.

"Mom, we’re not six,” you tease. “You have enough to do for the party.”

You turn to Marc, who is smiling warmly, something serene settling in his countenance as he watches his old neighbors interact. Just the sight of him steals your breath for a moment. He is truly, remarkably handsome.

He apologizes, letting you both know he has other plans for the afternoon, but promises he'll see you soon.

You show him out, bouncing at little on your toes at the chance of seeing him again.

"So, does this mean you're coming to our party?"

One corner of his mouth curls. "As long as we hide downstairs the way we used to. And dad says you might come over to ours."

“Definitely.”

The holiday party is a smashing success, as always. The whole neighborhood turns up, including Mr. Spector and Marc. Since he hasn't visited home in years, he draws a lot of attention, most of which doesn't interest him.

But he plays the dutiful son and the friendly neighbor, continuously gravitating back to you as a sort of touchstone. You make sure to "need his help" carrying dishes to the kitchen, taking out the trash - anything, really, to let Marc escape if he wants to. The two of you walk Mr. Spector back across the street, lingering longer than is necessary in your front yard.

"You don't have to go yet, do you?"

Scuffing his foot on the pavement, he hesitates, so you're quick to add, "We haven't dodged the rest of the party in the basement yet. And of course, there's the pool table."

"Right," he agrees, remembering the fun (and safe) times shared there.

"I saved some of the good whiskeyyyy," you tempt, taking his arm. "We can watch Eight Crazy Nights."

"Hell no. Die Hard."

Arm in arm, you sneak him back inside, texting your mom to let her know you'll help her clean up tomorrow.

She's quick to text back that you should 'take your time' and 'have fun' with lots of embarrassing emojis.

“Wow, it’s like stepping back in time. This place hasn’t changed one bit,” he marvels as the two of you descend the oddly curved, carpeted staircase to your basement/family room.

"I know. Time capsule,” you laugh, watching as he takes a gander at all the old photos framed and situated across the mantle.

“God, you look almost exactly the same,” he remarks, zeroed in on your senior portrait.

"For real?”

He regards you openly, warmth in his eyes. And something more, as if he appreciates the view. “You’re exactly the way I remember you. Must be nice not to age.”

“Yeah, right,” you chuckle. “But thank you.” A beat passes between you, gazes locking, before heat creeps up your neck, warming your cheeks. “You look different, though. Good different, I mean. You don’t hunch anymore.”

He laughs. “Steven hunches enough for the both of us.”

"Oh Steven,” you remember the alter kept so carefully hidden, but you knew. You always knew. “How is Steven?”

“Good, I think. Probably won’t pass up the chance to tell you himself,” Marc diplomatically responds. “He’s been quiet since we got…home.” He clears his throat.

Boldly stepping closer, you, gently grasp his forearm. “I’m glad you’re here. So glad.”

“Thank you,” he responds evenly, and it feels like something is healed in him since you last talked, and certainly since you last laid eyes on him. “You ready to get your ass kicked at pool?”

“Nine ball, corner pocket,” Marc announces smugly, taking his fourth shot in a row.

“I should so bump into you right now,” you tease.

“You can. I’ll still beat you,” he fires right back, sinking the shot, which makes you groan. So you bump him next time, hip to hip, and he misses.

“Your turn,” he offers, with mock graciousness, and you can tell he’s plotting his revenge. Eyeing him suspiciously, you call your shot and lean over to take it when you suddenly feel him crowding in behind you.

“This is actually my shot, cheater,” he breathes on your ear, strong arms encircling yours as his chest presses against your back. “We’re gonna play the rest of the game just like this.”

“Fine,” you pretend to shrug him off, as if you aren’t thrilled to have him close. He smells like sun-drenched sands and secrets and spice.

Your eyes drift closed as his lips almost brush your cheek. “You knew this would happen.” Wrapping his arms and hands carefully around yours, he executes the shot you called, clumsily but successfully - the two of you almost tipping over in the process.

Gripping your hip with one hand, steadies you, then maneuvers you to the other end of the table to set up for the next shot. “You always know what happens when you cheat,” he taunts, settling in behind you and announcing his next move.

“I think you want to play like this,” you fire back. "You probably love it when I cheat. Consider it your Hanukkah present,” you tease, thrusting back against him temptingly, yet playfully.

The slightest, satisfied growl rumbles in his chest as he leans you forward to make the shot. Then he turns you around, taking the pool stick out of your hand and stashing it across the table beside his own. Leaning forward, he cages you in with his forearms braced on the table's edge.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” His gaze drops to your lips.

“Yeah. Guess so,” you shrug. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Marc wets his lips with his tongue, his eyes incapable of focusing on one part of you for long. Eyes, mouth, neck, even your chest and he's not subtle about it. "Haven’t changed at all.”

“You have,” you tell him, grasping his biceps for support as he crowds into your space. “You seem...good.”

Sobering a bit at your observation, Marc eases back out of playful mode, and your personal space. “Better.”

"Good." Missing him so near, but feeling a little off kilter from his blatant flirting, you close the slight distance between you, palms pressing against the warmth of his chest. “Marc, I missed you.”

"I missed you too."

"Now this is a party," Marc says, resting comfortably enough on the lumpy old brown couch, socked feet stretched out in front of him on the coffee table, nursing the "good" whiskey.

"Told you. Thanks for sticking with me upstairs," you softly reply, not at all interested in the action movie sounds on the world's oldest TV.

"No problem. I don't mind it as much as I used to. Especially with you here." He offers you a sip of whiskey with such a familiar nonchalance, you almost feel like a couple.

"I can tell, you know - that the same things don't...I guess bother you as much," you gently prod. "Or maybe you handle things differently?"

"Hopefully," he nods, fingers brushing yours as he takes the drink back from you. "But what about you? How are you?"

So you catch him up on your life. College, significant others, job, your family.

"Your turn."

Then Marc tells you the most incredible story about Egypt and gods and magic powers. And how he is with Steven now. No more hiding.

"It's okay if you don't believe me," he concludes, knocking back the last gulp of whiskey. "I wouldn't."

"I'll always believe you. Tell me more about Egypt. About everything."

Marc has always been a fortress - always withdrawing into himself as to not disturb the space around him any more than was necessary. When his emotions did come out, it was usually...really intense, to say the least. Then he would run.

And that was Marc, for a long while. Feel, hurt, withdraw, lash out, run. It was one of the reasons you probably weren't together right now. Not to mention your own contributions to the issues between you years ago.

It's been a long Christmas Eve of wrapping and party prepping and hosting, and having Marc here this year is equally soothing and all-consuming.

Before you realize it, you've inched closer, arm pushing into his arm from shoulder to elbow. Your head drops to his shoulder as he continues talking. Eventually, he either takes a break or concludes his tale, focusing in on the movie. But in the mean time, his voice so soothes you that your eyes flutter closed before you realize it.

The movie ends, Bruce Willis saves the day, along with Reginald VelJohnson. "Let it Snow" plays during the credits and Marc softly calls your name. He suspected you were asleep, but now that he's certain, he doesn't have the heart to disturb you.

The gentle sounds of your breathing lull him into a state of calm he hasn't felt most of his life. He smiles to himself, lets his head drop back against the headrest and closes his eyes.

A couple hours later, you wake up, smooshed up against Marc's side, some Christmas movie playing on the TV. Marc's head has slumped down on his chest and you feel terrible because he simply can't be comfortable.

Calling his name, you shake him gently before easing down on the floor beside him to help him lie down. He stirs momentarily, bleary eyes blinking, struggling to focus.

Seeing you, he seems to remember his situation. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"No, it's okay. Lie down. I'll get you a blanket if you want to stay."

Perhaps he wants to walk back across the street, but it is the middle of a cold night, and this would not be the first time he spent the night in your basement.

But as you stand to get him the blanket, he seems to realize you're leaving. "No, stay," he pouts, still half-asleep. "You're warm."

You sleepily giggle, hesitating only a moment before settling into the tiny space he's created for you beside his stretched out body. "Marc, I don't think I'm a very good blanket."

"Just stay for a minute," he whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. "Just one more minute."

"Okay, I'll stay" you agree, now wide awake as your heart races. It takes you a second to tuck your body into his.

You end up half on top of him and it feels so good you can't even think straight.

"You can go upstairs if you want," he offers, palm spreading over the curve of your back as he presses you closer. "Just wanted to hold you, is all."

"I want you to hold me," you confess in a rush, breath ghosting his cheek. "I want to stay."

Then you feel his lips on yours, warm, soft and demanding. You fall apart in his arms as he tastes you, tenderly tracing the shape of your jaw as he eases back.

You don't let him get far, pressing your mouth to his.

“Welcome home, Marc,” you whisper in the dark before you fall asleep together on Christmas morning.

Winter Wonderland Fluff Ficlets | Marc Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[vicolette]

Photographing Lovers !

– A/N : "luck doesn’t exist, our style does" is so tuff

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n, favoritism, not proofread

"Aright, ready?"

Pau wasn’t one to fall in love with things or people fast – that was obvious enough when he firstly starts binge watching a series a few years after everyone had talked about it. Or when he didn’t have the same feelings for a girl, only to find himself enamored with her when she already got a boyfriend.

So whatever this is, is weird.

Well, standing in front of a camera is nothing new for Pau, as he had done it thousands of times. And even if Modelling wasn’t his strength, his teammates had persuaded him that he was doing a good job.

Until you arrived.

You were the photographer and extremely bossy, almost always shaking your head whenever the other Pau, Pau Victor, slightly moved to the other side, or how you let out a huff when Hector was casually standing instead of with emotions.

"We're attracting others, Hector!" You said at some point as you did some silly gestures with your hands to emphasize your words, he could solely turn his head and secretly roll his eyes, which almost made Marc Casado laugh. "You can’t just seem unbothered – use your face!"

The hoodie made Cubarsi sweat, slightly pulling on it to feel better and get some air inside his lungs. However, he doubted that it was due to the weather and only because of you, even if it wasn’t meant in a bad way.

Because, even if Pau would pretty much rather admit that he sucked at learning new languages than say this, his heart skipped a beat whenever you glanced at him. You seemed neutral about him, bored, and he didn’t like that.

He wanted a good first impression. He wanted to be better than all of the others in the room. He wanted-

"Cubarsi?" The said boy tensed up when you had called him out, making Hector beside him cackle at how flustered he was. He already knew what was going inside the other's head – it was easy to tell.

As he brushed his arm against the one of a defeated Marc Casado, he awkwardly stood in the middle of the photoshoot and didn’t what to do. His cluelessness already had a negative impact on you, and he didn’t like that.

The hoodie felt heavy on his shoulders as he watched you put your hands in your pockets for demonstration, immediately following after your position and turning to the side with a confused expression on his face.

"No, wait-" In an instant, Pau returned to facing you, when you suddenly realized that he was a little genius. "Do that again."

As he did like he was told to do, Pau secretly enjoyed how you quickly nodded your head and gave him a thumbs up, before taking a few quick pictures. The light slightly hurt his eyes, yet the proud grin that he sent to his teammates was healing.

They were… shocked, to say the least. With Hector having raised his eyebrow, Marc's jaw dropping, and Victor's frown more than just obvious.

"Something’s missing." This definitely took him by surprise as Cubarsi looked back at you and felt his heart race, thinking that he had made a mistake. Meanwhile, you noticed that he had rather soft features and – though he looked kind of cute – this wasn't the concept. It was supposed to look easy, cool, something to attract teenagers and young adults.

Once you tapped on your chin and felt something, you noticed that you had yet to take the lollipop out of your mouth, glancing at one of the staff members. "Do you have lollipops?"

They seemed rather surprised, but one was quick to go to work and search pretty much everywhere for lollipops, when you then realized that you had a package of them inside your bag. Turning back around to come face to face with Pau, you flashed your teeth and smiled at him, before returning to your nonchalant façade. "Do you also have to wear something else?"

"Uh- the shirt with Johan on the back of it..." You gave him a nod in acknowledgement and then left him alone, grabbing your bag and looking around before you found it. Taking the package out, you handed it over to him in an attempt to get him to take one.

While you seemed normal about this, Pau had the opinion that you rather threw it at him, before taking one out hesitantly and unwrapping the wrapper. It was the flavor Cola – not his favorite, but he just took one.

"I also like that one." You nodded your head in agreement to his choice of picking one out, while he just nervously chuckled and glanced at his teammates.

"I mean, no, not really."

"No?" Tilting your head to the side, Pau felt hid cheeks heat up and looking between you and Hector, who could just barely only stifle his laugh. "Then pick another one."

He paused for a second, his brain not functioning as he had to process your words, before holding up the lollipop of Cola flavor that he had picked out. "And this one?"

"I don’t know, give it to them." You pointed out his teammates with your thumb, as if the gesture was anything but special. The way that you had insisted he would pick out his favorite flavor was endearing and, dare he say, made his heart rate go higher.

Nonetheless, Pau quickly walked over to toss them the package and gave them the candy, which Marc gratefully took into his hands, before taking his favorite candy and returning to his place. Stuffing it inside his mouth, he tried to seem as calm as possible.

Hector only snickered once, which made everyone look at him, but it didn’t take long until the photoshoot was over and you dismissed them.

On the way back, you nudged Pau with your elbow and slightly cracked your lollipop to eat some bits, seeing how he looked even more relaxed while eating sweets, as if he had a sweet tooth.

"Which one did you choose?" Confusion spread over his face before he realized what you meant, mumbling something along the lines of "strawberry" with the candy still in his mouth. You merely looked at him up and down, raising an eyebrow before responding in a playful manner.

"Ew, cola better."

"Huh? No, it’s not!"

– A/N : took a nap and had to speed write this sorry…

[clawsoutspotsoff]

Spooktober: Costume Party

"Let's all dress as each others' akumas for Halloween!"

FEATURING:

Alya as Reflekta Nino as Gamer Alix as Evillustrator Max as Robustus Luka as Bubbler Nathaniel as Dark Cupid Marc as Silencer Zoe as Princess Fragrance Kagami as Reverser Juleka as Oni-Chan Rose as Time Breaker Mylene as Sole Crusher Ivan as Horrificator Kim as Stoneheart Markov as Lady Wifi "Um... what should I do, I've never been akumatized?" "Oh! Marinette, you and Adrien should go as Ladybug and Chat Noir and you can pretend to fight us!!!" "Haha yeah.... great idea!"

[thewulf]

Calming Storms || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - It's aaron hotchner x reader, and reader is the mother of one of Jack's new friends (let's call him Marc for now but you can change it obvs), and one time the bau have a kind of short case but away, Jessica is away also so Jack says he could do a sleepover at Marc's and everything goes fine until the second night where Marc's dad gets so angry at reader that she locks the kids in Marc's bedroom... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew this ones a doozy. Very sweet but triggering. Talks of violence against reader/kids. Please be cautious while reading if this triggers you!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Talks of DV, drunk absent fathers, scared kids

The evening unfolded with a rare promise of simplicity, a brief respite from the relentless whirlwind of investigations that consumed the Behavioral Analysis Unit's days and nights. Aaron Hotchner, taking charge in Jessica's absence, found himself overseeing operations with a steely determination. With each passing case, he was reminded of the fragility of life and the weight of responsibility that rested upon his shoulders.

Amidst the chaos of their lives, Aaron made it a priority to ensure that his son, Jack, found moments of normalcy and joy. Tonight, he had arranged for Jack to have a sleepover with his best friend, Marc. It was a small gesture, perhaps, but one that Aaron hoped would offer Jack a brief respite from the realities of their world.

As Jack eagerly packed his overnight bag with the essentials—a favorite stuffed animal, a handful of snacks, and a well-loved book—Aaron couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude for Marc's friendship. In the short time they had known each other, Marc had already become a source of light and laughter for Jack, a sense normalcy in the chaos.

With a reassuring smile, Aaron watched as Jack bounded out the door with excitement shining in his eyes. It was moments like these that reminded Aaron of the importance of cherishing the simple joys in life, even in the darkness that surrounded them. The best thing about Jack’s friendship with Marc though? You. His mother. The woman that walked into his life, took a seat and had taken ahold of him in a hurry.

When Aaron Hotchner looks at you, he sees more than just physical beauty. Sure, you're undeniably pretty, with features that catch the eye and an elegance that's hard to ignore. But what really captivates him is something deeper, something that goes beyond mere appearance.

In his eyes, you carry yourself with a quiet strength and confidence that sets you apart. There's a grace in the way you move, a poise that speaks volumes about your inner resilience. Your eyes, he notices, hold a depth that hints at a wealth of experiences and emotions, drawing him in with their intensity.

Everything about you attracts him to you. It's the way you approach challenges with unwavering resolve, the way you stand by your principles even in the face of adversity. He admires your determination, your ability to stay true to yourself no matter what. To Aaron, you're not just beautiful. You're a testament to strength and resilience, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there's always the possibility of finding light. And as he looks at you, he can't help but feel a sense of admiration and respect for the remarkable person you are.

Aaron got to know you through a series of casual encounters that gradually evolved into something more meaningful. It started with the occasional coffee break during team meetings or after-work gatherings where the BAU team would unwind. As the kids played and laughter filled the air, Aaron found himself drawn to your presence.

At first, your interactions were brief and centered around small talk—discussing work, sharing anecdotes about the challenges of balancing career and family. But over time, those conversations grew deeper, more personal. You discovered shared interests and common values, forging a connection that went beyond the confines of the office. As Aaron spent more time with you, he began to appreciate your unique perspective and unwavering dedication to your work. He admired your intelligence, your ability to analyze complex situations with clarity and precision. And as he got to know you better, he found himself drawn to your warmth and kindness, your willingness to listen and offer support when needed.

Before long, those casual coffee breaks evolved into something more—a genuine friendship built on mutual respect and understanding. And as Aaron navigated the complexities of his own life, he found solace in knowing that you were there, a steady presence amidst the rocky days, offering comfort and companionship when he needed it most.

After he dropped Jack off at your house he went back to work, even though he had no desire to go back after the already stressful week. As the night settled in and the BAU headquarters grew quiet, Aaron allowed himself a moment of respite, a rare chance to breathe amidst the chaos. He found solace in the knowledge that, for tonight at least, Jack was safe and happy, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and the promise of a new day. And as he settled into his own quiet routine, Aaron couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope among the darkness—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always the promise of light.

As laughter and chatter filled your home, your watchful gaze swept over the scene, a silent sentinel guarding over the children's fleeting moments of joy. The sound of their innocent giggles echoed through the room, a melody of pure happiness that brought warmth to your heart.

But then, like a sudden squall, that joy was ripped from everybody in the room. Marc's father, a distant figure with visitation rights, arrived in a whirlwind of anger, his shouts piercing the tranquil evening air. His words were sharp, laced with bitterness and resentment, tearing through the peaceful atmosphere like shards of glass. You felt a chill run down your spine as his presence loomed over the room, casting a dark shadow over the innocence of childhood.

Taking a peak outside the window you were hit with a sense of overwhelming dread. He was drunk. There was no mistaking the glassy look in his eyes, the slurred speech that spilled from his lips like poison. This was why you moved time and time again, running away from the man that scared you senseless, the specter of his rage haunting your every step.

In that moment, instinct propelled you into action. With trembling hands, you gathered the children, ushering them into your young sons bedroom. Their faces were a mixture of confusion and fear, mirroring the turmoil raging inside your own heart. Marc, wide-eyed and trembling, clung to your side, seeking comfort and safety in the shelter of your embrace.

You locked Marc’s bedroom door behind you, the click of the bolt a final barrier between the children and the storm brewing outside. With each passing moment, the tension in the air grew thicker, suffocating in its intensity. But you stood firm, a pillar of strength amidst his fury, shielding the children from the darkness that threatened to engulf them.

As you huddled together in Marc's room, Marc clung to your side, his small frame trembling with fear. "Mommy, what's happening?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with uncertainty.

You knelt down beside him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. "It's going to be okay, Marc, Jack," you reassured him, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "We're safe here."

Jack, sensing the tension in the air, looked up at you with wide eyes. "Are we in trouble Miss Y/N? Daddy says if I’m in trouble I should call him." he asked, his voice tinged with worry having had to go through this same scenario one too many times for being such a young kid.

You shook your head, mustering a reassuring smile for both boys. "No, sweetheart, we're not in trouble," you said gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "We're just going to stay here until everything calms down, okay?"

The boys nodded, their trust in you unwavering despite the chaos unfolding outside. Together, you formed a tight-knit circle, finding solace in each other's presence amidst the uncertainty. But you knew you couldn’t just wait it out in Marc's bedroom. You had to do something though, anything. You couldn’t wait for Marc’s father to break down the door.

Your mind raced with possibilities as you scanned the room for any means of defense. Should you grab a knife? Look for any baseball bats around? With a sense of urgency, you sprang into action, determined to protect the children at all costs.

As the tension in the room thickened, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what needed to be done. With a gentle hand, you lifted Marc's chin, meeting his frightened gaze with a reassuring smile. "Listen to me, Marc, Jack," you began, your voice firm but gentle. "I need you both to be brave for me, okay? We're going to find a hiding spot, and I need you to stay quiet and stay hidden until I come back. Can you do that?"

Marc nodded; his eyes filled with determination as he squeezed your hand. "We can do it, Mommy," he whispered, his voice steady despite the fear that lingered in the air.

Jack hesitated for a moment before nodding, his small frame tense with uncertainty. "Okay, Miss Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads, a silent promise to keep them safe. "Good," you said softly, your voice filled with determination. "Now, I need you to find a hiding spot and stay there until I come back. I'm going to call your Dad, Jack, and he's going to help us, okay?"

With a nod, the boys scrambled to find a hiding spot, their small figures disappearing into the shadows of the room. As they huddled together, you felt a surge of pride and love welling up inside you. They were scared, yes, but they were also brave, just like Jack’s father.

The sound of fists pounding against wood echoed through the room, a chilling reminder of the danger lurking just beyond their sanctuary. Every blow sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as you fumbled for your phone, the air thick with terror.

With trembling hands, you dialed Aaron's number, each digit feeling like an eternity as you prayed for his swift arrival. The urgency in your voice betrayed the gravity of the situation as you finally managed to connect with him.

"Hotchner," his voice was calm, a reassuring anchor that threatened to engulf you.

"Aaron, it's me," you managed, your words tumbling out in a rush, your voice trembling with fear. "Something's happened. Marc's father—he's here, and he's... he's furious and drunk. I don't know what to do."

There was a brief pause, the silence heavy with unspoken understanding. In that moment, you could almost hear the gears turning in Aaron's mind as he processed the gravity of the situation. But despite the fear that threatened to consume you, his voice remained steady, a beacon of strength in the darkness.

"I'm on my way," he replied, his words infused with determination.

As you hung up the phone, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that help was on the way, but the danger still lurked just outside. With trembling hands, you made your way to the window, your heart pounding in your chest as you peered outside.

Marc's father stood in the dimly lit street, his figure looming menacingly in the shadows. His shouts filled the night air, a chilling reminder of the mayhem that threatened to engulf you all. You could see the anger etched on his face, the twisted expression of rage that sent shivers racing through your body.

Your stomach churned with fear as you watched him pace back and forth, his movements erratic and unpredictable. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to hide, to protect yourself and the children from his wrath.

But you stood your ground, rooted to the spot as you watched the scene unfold before you. You were the first line of defense to those kids, and you wouldn’t let him through. Not in your wildest dreams. You knew that help was on the way, that Aaron would be here soon to put an end to this nightmare. But until then, all you could do was wait, your heart pounding in your chest as you prayed for safety and protection for you and the children.

As you strained to listen, the angry shouts of Marc's father pierced through the stillness of the night, each word a sharp dagger of fear that lodged itself in your chest. His voice was laced with venom, filled with threats and curses that sent chills down your spine. Through the window, you saw him pacing back and forth, his movements frenzied and erratic. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, and every now and then, he would pound on the door with a force that made the wood tremble.

The streetlights cast eerie shadows across his face, distorting his features into a grotesque mask of rage. His eyes burned with a wildfire, his gaze sweeping over the house with a predatory intensity that made your blood run cold. With each passing moment, the tension in the air grew heavier, suffocating in its intensity. You held your breath, your heart hammering in your chest as you prayed for Aaron's swift arrival.

And then, just when you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, you heard the distant sound of sirens wailing in the night. Relief washed over you like a wave as you realized that help was finally here, that Aaron had arrived to put an end to this nightmare once and for all.

From your vantage point at the window, you strained to hear over the pounding of your heart. Marc's father's voice grew louder, his words slurred with anger and alcohol. He stumbled, his movements unsteady as he continued to rant and rave. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared on the street. Aaron emerged from the darkness, his presence commanding and authoritative. He approached Marc's father with caution, his hand resting on the holster of his gun.

"Sir, I need you to calm down," Aaron's voice cut through the night, firm and unwavering. "You're causing a disturbance."

But Marc's father didn't heed the warning. He lashed out, his fists swinging wildly as he advanced towards Aaron. In one swift motion, Aaron drew his weapon, his stance defensive yet controlled.

"Back off," Aaron commanded, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

But Marc's father refused to listen. He lunged forward, intent on causing harm. With a steady hand, Aaron moved to subdue him, the click of handcuffs echoing through the night as he wrestled Marc's father into submission.From the window, you watched as he engaged Marc's father in calm but firm conversation, his authoritative presence making it clear that his priority was the safety of you and the children.

After what felt like an eternity, Marc's father finally relented, his anger simmering down as he was escorted away by the authorities. With each step he took, the weight of the tension that had filled the room seemed to lift, leaving behind a sense of calm in its wake.

As the chaos outside began to subside, you approached the door cautiously, your heart still pounding in your chest with each step. Peering through the peephole, you saw Aaron's familiar silhouette standing on the other side, strength amidst the darkness. With trembling hands, you reached for the door handle, the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what lay on the other side, but the urgency of the situation spurred you into action.

Gripping the handle tightly, you slowly turned it, the creak of the door breaking the eerie silence that had settled over the house. As you swung the door open, Aaron's concerned gaze met yours, his expression filled with determination and resolve. Without a word, Aaron stepped inside, his presence a comforting reassurance in the midst of chaos. And as you closed the door behind him, the weight of the tension that had filled the room seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of calm and security in his presence.

But just as he looked at you with the utmost concern, a sudden realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. The kids. They needed you. Panic surged through you like a tidal wave. Without a moment's hesitation, you broke free from Aaron's grasp and rushed past him, your mind consumed by one thought: the safety of the children.

"Aaron!" you called out, your voice trembling with fear. "We have to check on them, Marc's father—he can't hurt them, right?" Your words spilled out in a frantic rush as you bolted towards the bedroom door, your heart hammering in your chest knowing they were fine but fear bested you in the moment.

Every worst-case scenario played out in your mind, fueling your panic as you reached for the doorknob. But before you could open it, Aaron's strong hand gripped your arm, halting your frantic movements.

"Wait, Y/N," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos of your thoughts. "Take a breath. The children are safe. You need to trust that."

Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to rein in your panic. "But what if something happened?" you choked out, tears blurring your vision. "I can't bear the thought of them being scared and alone."

Aaron's gaze softened, understanding flickering in his eyes as he pulled you into a reassuring embrace. "I know, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a soothing anchor in the storm of your fear. "But right now, we need to stay calm for them. They need you to be strong. Kids can sense these things." His BAU training was working diligently as he calmed you down just outside Marc’s bedroom door trying to stay as quiet as possible. He, better than anyone, knew how these things could traumatize kids. He had seen it time and time again as he worked these cases.

While his words sank in, you felt some of the tension begin to ebb away, replaced by a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil. With Aaron's steady presence grounding you, you took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead. With a newfound sense of determination, Aaron gently guides you back to the living room, his steady presence a calming force amidst the chaos. As you sink onto the couch, still trembling with adrenaline, he kneels beside you, his eyes filled with reassurance.

"Listen, Y/N," Aaron begins, his voice steady and calm. "I'll go check on Marc and Jack, okay? You stay here and try to relax. They need to see that everything's going to be alright."

You nod, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you at Aaron's words. With a reassuring squeeze of your hand, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards the bedroom door. As he disappears from view, you can't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of your mind. What if Marc's father returns? What if Aaron can't calm the children down? But you push those thoughts aside, trusting in Aaron's ability to handle the situation. You focus instead on taking deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart as you wait for news.

Moments later, Aaron returns, a small smile playing on his lips. "They're okay," he says softly, his voice filled with relief. "A little shaken up, but okay. They’ll be right down; they’re changing for bed."

A wave of relief washes over you, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Aaron," you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. “Thank you for coming so quick.”

He nods, his eyes filled with understanding as he takes a seat beside you on the couch. Together, you sit in companionable silence, the tension slowly dissipating as you find solace in each other's presence. As you sit together on the couch, the weight of the situation in the air slowly beginning to dissipate, a tremor of unease still lingers, casting a shadow over the room. Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes down the hallway, and before you can react, the two kids come bounding into the room more concerned about you than anything.

In a flurry of motion, both Jack and Marc jump on top of you. "Miss Y/N!" Jack cries out, his voice thick with emotion. "Are you okay?"

Their presence is like a balm to your frazzled nerves, and you reach out to them, pulling them into a tight embrace. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you hold them close, feeling the weight of their love and concern wash over you like a soothing tide. Aaron watched from beside as the two little boys clinged to the loving presence that you were.

"I'm okay, sweetheart," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm okay."

But Marc's small frame trembles with fear as he clings to you desperately, his tears mingling with yours as he buries his face against your shoulder. "I'm scared, Mommy," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of Dad. I don't want him to hurt you."

Your heart breaks at his words, and you hold him close, offering whatever comfort you can in the face of his overwhelming terror. "I know, baby" you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. "But Dad's gone now, and he won't hurt us. I promise you that."

As you speak, Jack wraps his arms around you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. "We'll protect you, Miss Y/N," he says firmly, his voice filled with determination. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you look at your son and defacto son now, feeling an overwhelming surge of love and gratitude for the brave, compassionate young boys they've become. With their arms wrapped around you, you know that together, you can face anything that comes your way, united in strength and love.

Marc clinged to you, his trembling form gradually relaxing in your embrace. Jack's voice cuts through the tension-filled air, filled with desperation and fear. "Daddy, please stay," Jack pleads, his eyes wide and pleading as he looks up at Aaron. "I don't want anything to happen to Miss Y/N or Marc."

Aaron's gaze softens as he looks down at his son's friend, his heart breaking at the fear in Jack's eyes. Without hesitation, he nods, his voice filled with reassurance. "Of course, Jack. I'll stay."

With a sense of relief washing over the room, Aaron gently guides Marc and Jack to their beds, tucking them in with care and tenderness you hadn’t seen from a father before. As he leans down to brush a gentle kiss on each of their foreheads, you can't help but feel a swell of gratitude towards him as you watch from the doorway letting him take control.

Once the boys are settled, Aaron returns to the living room with you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of concern and determination. The soft glow of the lamp casts a warm, intimate light over the room, accentuating the vulnerability in both your gazes.

"I don't think any of us should be alone tonight," he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity, as if he's making a silent vow to protect you from any harm that may come your way. "Would you like me to stay?"

Your heart skips a beat at his offer, a blush rising to your cheeks as you meet his gaze. The rush of warmth flooding through you at the thought of having him by your side through the night is overwhelming. It's more than just a gesture of protection; it feels like an unspoken promise of comfort and solace, wrapped up in the tenderest of sentiments.

"Yes, please. If you don’t mind," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes shining with gratitude and a hint of something more.

With a small, gentle smile that lights up his eyes, Aaron settles himself beside you on the couch. The soft brush of his hand against yours sends a flutter of butterflies through your stomach, igniting a spark of something that feels incredibly special. “Not at all.”

As you lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, a sense of peace washes over you. In that moment, with Aaron's strong arms wrapped around you, everything feels right in the world.

His gaze softens as he looks at you, his voice filled with sincerity and affection. "I'll always be here for you, Y/N," he whispers, his words carrying a warmth that melts your heart. "You're not alone. Never will be."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the sweetness of the moment. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the warmth of your connection.

With a contented sigh, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. And as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you know that together, you can face anything that comes your way, united in a love that feels sweeter and more precious than you ever could have imagined.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

[emmylksblog]

could do one where the reader and hector fort are friends with benefits and the reader is jealous but soon after he reveals his feelings and asks her to date

(English is not my first language, I hope you understand) love your write 💕

BEYOND THE BENEFITS PT. 1 // H.FORT

summary: Hector and you have been friends with benefits for some time now, but you begin to feel jealous when Hector starts spending time with other girls. But one night, at Marc's party everything takes a turn.

content: friends with benefits! , angst

warnings: none i think, just a little fight

words: 1171

a/n: i think i deviated a little from the original request but i hope you like it! also, i think i fell in love with marc guiu halfway, ups

Recently, you had begun to realize that your feelings for Hector had deepened into something more serious. You found yourself more and more jealous whenever another girl paid attention to him, and it was consuming you.

To make matters worse, Hector seemed to be pulling away, giving you less of his attention. This only fueled your overthinking and insecurities, making you feel like he was losing interest in you. You were constantly wondering what you did wrong and why he was becoming distant.

You made a difficult decision - you would figure out Hector's feelings for you at the party. If he didn't feel the same way, you had resolved to end your friendship, even though it would hurt deeply since you were friends before becoming friends with benefits.

The party was held by your mutual friend Marc Guiu, and as you entered, you spotted Hector across the room, chatting with a small group.

You deliberately slow down your pace, making sure not to approach Hector too quickly. Between conversations, you grab a drink and chat with other people at the party.

You keep an eye on Hector from across the room, waiting for an opportunity to talk to him alone. Finally, you spot him standing by himself, sipping a drink. This is your chance.

As you were about to approach Hector, you noticed one of the girls who had a crush on him - she had been shooting dagger eyes in your direction all night. She pretends to stumble and "accidentally" bumps into you, spilling her drink all over the front of your dress.

The girl doesn't leave you the opportunity to react and smirks leaning close to your ear.

"You really think Hector is interested in you?" she says in a low voice. "He's just using you for sex. You're nothing but a convenient distraction. He'll drop you as soon as he gets bored."

Despite your attempts to not let her words get to you, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind. You force a smile, trying to remain composed.

"How do you know that?" you ask, feigning nonchalance. "Hector and I are friends. We've known each other for a long time."

The girl smirks, relishing in your discomfort. "Oh please," she rolls her eyes. "Everyone knows Hector's reputation. He doesn't commit to anyone, and trust me, you're no different."

As the girl's words sink in and the truth of Hector's reputation settles in your soul, tears well up in your eyes, but you stubbornly hold them back. Just then, Hector appears, followed by Marc, looking concerned.

Hector stops short when he sees the stain on your dress and the tears in your eyes. "Hey, what happened?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. And you can't help but only think about how his concern might be just an act as she said.

He glances at the girl who had spilled the drink on you before looking back at you, concern etched on his features. Marc, ever the peacemaker, attempts to diffuse the situation. "Everything alright here?" he asks, looking between you, Hector, and the girl.

Hector looks at you, his eyes fixed on the stain on your dress. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft. "I saw what happened. That girl was just being a..." He trails off, searching for the right words.

The stress and emotional weight of the evening finally get to you, and you reach your breaking point. You turn to Hector not letting him finish what he was about to say, your voice breaking slightly as you confront him.

"Were you just using me? Is it true that i'm just a toy that you'll toss aside when you get bored? Do I hold any importance to you at all?"

You're so focused on getting an answer that you don't notice that your conversation has become the center of attention for some of Hector's teammates.

Hector's hesitation and the silence that followed your question were all you needed to leave him by all means. Your heart breaks into a million pieces, and without another word, you turn on your heel and head for the door, tears streaming down your face.

Marc, who had silently observed the scene, sends a sharp glare at Hector before quickly following you, trying to catch up with your quick strides.

"¡Oye, espera!" ("Hey, wait!") Marc calls out, trying to get your attention.

He follows you out of the party, worried about the state you're in. "¿Estás bien? ("Hey, are you alright?") he asks, grabbing your arm gently to slow you down.

You shake your head, still reeling from the conversation with Hector. The tears are now falling freely, and you feel like your world has just collapsed.

"No," you manage to choke out, your voice wobbly. "I'm not alright."

Marc's face softens, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, trying to comfort you.

"Come on," he says gently. "Let's go someplace quiet where we can talk. You shouldn't be alone right now."

Marc has always been aware of Hector's feelings for you. He has seen how his friend looks at you, how he cares for you, and how he constantly seeks your attention. Everyone around you seems to know except you.

Marc's heart aches as he watches you cry, knowing that Hector has caused you so much pain by not recognizing his own feelings and instead complicating your friendship. He remembers the days when you three were inseparable, and he wished things had remained innocent.

Marc obliges, wordlessly embracing you and letting you cry into his shoulder. He gently rubs your back, trying to calm you down.

Meanwhile, Hector is standing a few feet away, watching the scene unfold. He had followed you and Marc outside, desperate to talk to you, but stumbled upon the sight of you in Marc's arms. Misinterpreting the situation, Hector assumes that there is something more between you and his friend.

His face darkens as he witnesses the affectionate gesture between you and Marc. A pang of jealousy and anger shoots through him, but he stands there frozen, trying to make sense of what he's seeing.

His mind starts to spin with doubts and insecurities. "Is this why she's been so distant lately?” he wonders. "Has she been spending time with Marc behind my back?"

It suddenly hits him that you were just friends with benefits. He had no claim over you, and you were free to date anyone you wanted.

Regret washes over him as he realizes that he should have made his feelings clear earlier before it was too late. He imagines you and Marc together, happy and in love, and the thought pains him, and a surge of hate towards his childhood friend Marc surfaces subconciously.

TO BE CONTINUED...

part 2!