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renjunphile · 1 year

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if my wishes came true, it would have been you | mark lee

PAIRING ✧ nct's mark lee x female reader WORD COUNT ✧ 12.0k TAGS ✧ idol!mark x idol!reader, exes!au, exes to lovers!au, really quite angsty, happy ending, fluff, non-linear narrative

PLAYLIST aka SONGS BY YN ✧ the 1 by taylor swift ; 21 by gracie abrams ; i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams ; champagne problems by taylor swift ; in between by gracie ambrams ; somebody by hwasa and loco ; i know it won't work by gracie abrams, dancing with our hands tied (acoustic) by taylor swift

SUMMARY ✧ persist and resist the temptation to ask if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? (alternatively, every single time you and mark get a chance to talk about your breakup, it never goes as planned)

MAY 2021

"NCT are here."

You hum along to the track blasting in your left ear through the singular airpod. It's the first day of your comeback promotions, and while you should feel confident from the many months you'd practiced the song every single day for multiple hours, no amount of time could ever erase the nerves you feel each comeback day.

You're already finished with your hair and makeup, being the first to sit in the chair to give your members some time to wake up from their naps in the van. Though you should all be bright, awake, and preppy for your comeback stage, the reality was that all of you were obliteratingly tired from the near all-nighter in the practice room. Your makeup artists are true magicians for the way they cover up all signs of tiredness even under all those harsh, bright stage lights.

"Unnie, did you hear me?" your youngest member Kali poked your arm incessantly.

"Kali, stop," you whine, pushing her finger away, "I heard you."

"So why didn't you react?"

"Why should I?" you sigh, pausing the track on your phone.

She pauses for a while, choosing to craft her words before replying too hastily, "We should still go and say hi. Haechan is asking if we wanna film a TikTok with them."

"You know they only post with SM idols," you remind her.

"You were in SM too. It's just for fun," she mumbles, "You know how many idols feature on Haechan's private account. Please come."

"You're up to no good, Kali," you squint at her suspiciously, watching the room carefully to see if anyone had overheard. It wasn't really a big deal; all your managers were well-informed, just like your members, and your stylists were basically your friends.

"I already talked to our manager and Haechan talked to their manager," Kali wrapped her fingers around your wrist delicately, but pulling to encourage you to stand up, "Let's go."

The walk to the hallway where the NCT members agreed to meet the two of you wasn't exactly a long one, but the rumblings of nerves bubbling in your stomach made it feel like a million years. You weren't stupid; you knew exactly what to expect and you wouldn't put it past your maknae to meddle in a time like this.

"Oh look, they're here already," Kali was biting a grin behind her words as 3 figures came into view. Haechan gives you a warm smile and a famous bear hug before he was shoved away.

"Noona," you resist a pout as one of the boys you had been taking care of since you were younger wrapped you up in a big hug, "Haven't seen you in so long. Missed you."

"Missed you too Ji. You grow an inch every time I see you," you also resist the urge to ruffle up his perfectly styled purple hair out of fear of getting hunted by his hair stylist, "I like this purple on you."

He gives you an appreciative grin and somehow you still see him as the tiny, shy boy running energetically around the halls of the company building after being chased by his fellow trainees. Jisung moves on to greet your member, who was still in conversation with Haechan.

It's definitely not that you dread having to face Mark Lee. It's totally not the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend. Or the fact that you're still in love with him. Or the fact that he's still in love with you. No, none of that.

Totally.

"You look really pretty, Y/N," he begins slowly, taking in your appearance in front of him, having not seen each other for a few months.

Mark Lee stands in front of you stoic, hands by his side and feet together. It's almost like he's fighting his instinct to wrap you up in his arms like he's done most of his life because you sure know you're having to fight that instinct too.

"Thanks, Mark. I like your blue hair," you smile softly, "How are you?"

"I'm good. Amazing, even. I guess," he's mumbling, running his hands through said hair you just complimented and you can tell he's nervous, "I love the song. And the whole album. I can tell which songs you wrote. You always make me so proud."

Ouch. It stings your heart whenever he says things like that. How could you have let go of someone so sweet?

"Thanks. Congratulations on your first album and coming back with Dream."

"Ah, thanks. I fought so hard to come back to the group and I'm really happy they finally listened to me," he began, "You know how much I love them."

"Yeah, I know."

You're barely meeting his eyes, but when you do, it feels like he's hesitating in his words.

"Mark-"

"Happy birthday by the way," he rushes out, "For yesterday. I'm sorry that I didn't text. Or call."

"It's okay," you reassure him, knowing that that was probably easier for you both that he didn't.

"How did you spend your birthday?"

"The members got me cake. Coffee, my favourite," you recount, "I did a live for a bit, but other than that we were practicing all day for today."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That really sucks," he frowns.

"You know how it goes. I'll have more birthdays to celebrate anyway-"

"But you didn't celebrate last year either!" he protests.

"Maybe next year, then," you pull your lips into a tight smile, "It's okay Mark. Don't worry about it. I'm not really fond of my birthdays anymore and 22's not a big deal."

He sighs while looking at you, "You deserve to celebrate your birthday no matter what. I hope you can find some time to do something for yourself."

You chuckle lightly, "That'll be hard to come by. I don't know how you've done it with multiple groups all these years, Mark. I've only been debuted for three years and it's never got any easier. You were really stretching yourself thin, huh?"

"I guess," he's playing with his fingers, so you know he has something to say.

"Just say it, Mark. Whatever you want to say."

You can read him like a book and you've always been able to. It's not your fault that the book is wide open, as compared to the way you've always been- shut, bound, and locked.

"I just wanted to say I miss you. That's all. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Thanks to the secluded hallway that Haechan had found and led you to, the coast was clear enough for you to close the distance between you and Mark even just by a bit more. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his arm.

"Thanks for caring, Mark. I miss you too."

He smiles at you softly and the two of you are so engrossed in each other to notice that Kali, Haechan and Jisung had disappeared a while ago. You know it's time for you to go back though.

The worst part of the whole situation wasn't the breakup itself. Of course, the breakup hurt both of you for a long time and you don't even think you're recovered. It did happen over a year ago, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part is knowing that every time you meet again, walking away hurts more each time. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do but listen to your heart break with each step you take away from each other. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do about the fact that you still love each other more than anything else in this world.

2014

Mark Lee was known to be SM's golden child. In the future, he'd be known as the most over-worked in the company, due to his talents and resilience, but now, he's just Mark Lee, second to you.

You'd done everything before Mark. You were born first. You moved to Korea first. You beat him joining the company by 6 months and you beat him getting announced as part of SM Rookies just by 7 days.

None of that mattered because it was always just you and him together, wherever. Sure, you trained and practiced separately, but lunchtimes, downtimes, company gatherings- it was always the two of you attached to the hip. There was really nothing the company could say- the two of you were barely 15 so what was the worst you could do?

"How long do you think it'll be before your debut?" the two of you are lying down on the grass in a park a few minutes away from the building. His hands are rifling through the blades, yanking them up every so often, while you made daisy chains quietly.

He hums in response, "I don't know. Soon I hope, but I've only been here for like just over a year. Realistically, I'd say like 2 years. Don't tell anyone I told you, but I heard Johnny hyung talking to the manager about some kind of project that the company has been thinking of for a while. Something about having a group with infinite members!"

Your eyes widened at the thought, "Wow, really? EXO debuted with 12 and I thought that was a lot!"

"Yeah, right? But there are only like 9 of us in SM Rookies right now. How many do you think they'll start with and how am I going to get lines in a song if there's so many of us?"

You nudge him, "Well, with your awesome talent and writing skills of course. I can't wait to see what ends up happening to you guys- oh yeah, by the way, how's that new trainee you guys are training with? Donghyuck, right?"

"New?" he sat up with wide eyes, twisting his body to look at you, "He's been here for like 5 months and it's been the worst 5 months of my life! He's just so infuriating. His voice is amazing, sure, but he never listens and is always talking and hanging off me! I told him that he makes me want to leave the company."

You laugh at his frustrated expression, "Ha, you'd never leave the company. You'd never leave me behind. Plus, I bet you'll be best friends in a few years. Opposites attract and all that."

"Hm, but you and I are quite similar. Don't you think?"

There were definitely some traits that you shared to both be enduring the same path. Resilient, hard-working, brave, and enduring were all ones. After all, it's a big leap of faith to train to have the chance to be an idol just at 12 or 13 with no guaranteed future.

When it came down to it though, you'd like to think that there were also traits you each had that weren't always necessarily opposites all the time, but traits that complemented each other.

Mark liked to talk; you liked to listen. Mark was optimistic and would always be the one to cheer you up on your particularly moody days. You were Mark's calm through it all. Mark loved to rap; you found your passion in singing. Mark liked carrots and would take them off your plate in the cafeteria and swap them with his peas. Mark's hands were calloused from his guitar-playing, while yours were smooth and soft when he held them.

"No, I think we're the perfect example of opposites attract."

"Well then that's why you're my best friend," he grinned over at you while you slid a daisy chain bracelet onto his wrists, "Forever and whenever."

"Always," you grinned.

AUGUST 2021

"What are you doing here?"

"No happy birthday Mark?" he teases, holding a bouquet of flowers and a grocery store plastic bag in his hands on your doorstep.

"Come in before anyone sees you," you pull him inside your dorm, sticking your head out the hallway to see if it was empty, "How did you get here?"

"Relax, Y/N. My manager drove me and I was in all this," he pulls out a mask and a beanie from his pocket to show you.

"Oh, good. Happy birthday, I guess, but what are you doing here?" you question him again, looking at the contents in his grasp.

"Well, it all started when Hyuck said that we were throwing a birthday party for me. Then Jisung invited Kali and obviously, you too. And your members, of course. Then you said you couldn't come because you're busy," his eyes dart to the episode of Modern Family on your TV and the blanket lazily thrown on the couch, combined with your pajamas, "So I didn't want to come to the party anymore."

"But all my members are at your dorm," you frown, "There's still a party?"

"Yeah, I guess. Gives Jisung an opportunity to spend more time with his crush, which I'm sure Kali appreciates."

"So they're hosting your birthday party," you hum, "Without you? And you came here to what? Check that I'm busy?"

"I know you're not busy. Erin told me so, which I suspected anyway. I know it's kind of rude for me to come to force you to spend time with me when you didn't even want to come to my birthday party in the first place, but I thought I would try." he shrugs, "Is that okay?"

Mark is adorned in a white T-shirt and grey joggers. He's clearly not dressed for a party and your member clearly told him that you're staying inside and moping to your comfort show while you try to avoid your ex-boyfriend on his birthday. Plan failed, you guess.

Here's the thing: you've always been the worst at saying no to Mark. The one time you did, the world crashed around you. You would've thought it would have got easier to say no to him after already experiencing the worst-case scenario, but looking into his slightly pleading chocolate eyes shows you otherwise.

"Of course, Mark. You're the birthday boy," you finally say after a period of silence where Mark felt like his heart was thumping out of his chest.

"There's no one else I'd rather spend my birthday with," he hums lightly, even though his words are loaded, "Here, a big bouquet for missing last year too."

The tradition started on his 15th birthday in 2014. Even though it was his birthday, he had got you a bouquet of flowers to thank you for being his best friend of one year and making him feel all the more comfortable in his first year in Korea. You were his dance partner, his classmate, his fellow English speaker, and his best friend. He got you flowers again the next year, then the year after, and again and again for being his partner through everything.

The last birthday you shared with Mark before the two of you broke up was his 20th birthday in 2019 and he had prepared his own bouquet that year, choosing all your favourite flowers and colours and wrapping it all up himself. Mark was selfless like that- thinking of other people even on his birthday.

"It's beautiful," you examine the flowers- pink and red camellias and carnations, white primroses, pink peonies, red roses and baby's breaths. Taking that flower language course with Mark back when you were both 17 comes as a regret now, with the messages he's sending you through the bouquet. You hope it's just a coincidence.

"Anyway, I brought us- or I made my manager buy us- some Oreo ice cream, peanut butter chocolate, some ramen, and chicken and mushroom pastries," he grins as he pulls each one out of the bag, "And I brought cake, obviously."

You hold yourself back from saying what you would say every time he presented your favourite pastry from your childhood home to you- 'you know the way to my heart'.

"I haven't had one in so long," you gasp, taking it from him and preparing your plate already, "Thanks Mark. Why are you so considerate on your own birthday?"

"I like to celebrate the people I love on my birthday too. I wouldn't be me without them," he plops himself on the bar stool at your breakfast bar while you sigh hopelessly. He'll never leave your heart alone, "I wanted to soften the blow too."

You turn to him slowly, "Soften the blow?"

He sees the panic in your eyes and lets out that melodious laugh you've always loved, "Oh, nothing like that. Nothing to tell you. I just wanted to bribe you to talk to me on my birthday. I thought after over a year you might be ready to talk?"

"About what?"

"Us."

You thank the manufacturers of the heavenly pastry slice that only takes 90 seconds in the microwave. You set the plate down in front of Mark and take the seat next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Are you still my best friend?"

"Mark, come on," you began warily, knowing the difficult conversation you were about to have.

He meets your eyes and you feel the pain reflected in them, "When we decided to give our relationship a try when we were 16, we pinky swore that no matter what happens, we'll always be best friends. Always. Right?"

You find the power to break his gaze and stare down to your hands on your lap, "We did."

"So, why can't we go back to being friends? I know, I know when you broke up with me, you said that you don't think we could stay friends. I understood, of course, and I wanted to give you some space. Well, at least initially, but it's been over a year now and I really miss us. Your friendship meant everything to me even if I can't have you as my girlfriend." his tone is heartbreaking in the way that it's vulnerable and pleading.

"I told you when we broke up that breaking up was the hardest choice I'd ever have to make. It blew the choice to leave SM out of the water. I didn't want to break up, but it felt like I had no choice," you explained slowly, "When we first started dating, I knew I already loved you, but growing up together and debuting and going through everything I went through really taught me what real love in real life looked like and I could never have predicted at 16 how I felt for you at 20. Mark, you're everything to me, I hope you know. I said I didn't want to be friends when we broke up because how could I have lived with myself seeing you and talking to you still knowing I had you in the way that I did and knowing I loved you that intensely but not being able to show it anymore? How could I live with myself still having you around knowing I let go of the greatest thing that's ever happened to me?"

Mark Lee was brave at 16 when he kissed you for the first time and asked you to be his girlfriend against all the bans and rules. Mark Lee was brave at 18 watching you walk away from everything you both knew at SM Entertainment and for not running after you to stop you because you both knew it was for the best. Mark Lee was brave at 20 hearing you sob through the phone while you were halfway around the world because you just couldn't do this anymore. Mark Lee is brave at 22, taking your warm hands in his, and Mark Lee is brave when he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze and asks you this:

"Why can't we just get back together? This year apart is hurting us more than it's benefitting us."

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul- that the eyes say everything someone can't say. Your eyes are filled with tears, yes, but also love and fear and all the emotions in between.

The problem was that your brain always rules your life, keeping your heart's true desires always suppressed deep within.

"Mark," you trail, before he cuts you off.

"I don't see the problem, Y/N. Both our companies knew we were dating and you're not a rookie in the industry anymore. I mean, we dated through your whole rookie era! I acknowledge everything you said and felt when we broke up and I wanted to give you time to work through those emotions, but I'm asking if anything has changed. Has it?"

"I've never stopped loving you, but I'm still scared Mark. I'm even more scared now as your career grows," you say quietly, "I don't want to hurt you. If anything gets out, it won't just hurt you or me, because I could take it if it only hurt me, but it's our members, Mark. You know how fans feel about idols who date and it's never ever as simple as 'if they're a true fan they'll be happy for me'. That's not how the industry works."

He squeezes your hands, "Then we'll get better at sneaking around! You know the boys love you so much and they know how much our relationship meant to me and they'd never ever get in the way of that. Or we can just text and call and I don't even have to see you in person when it's risky. I just want the chance to tell you that I still love you every single day as I promised."

There it is again, the sound of your heart breaking at the most loving boy on the planet.

"Will you let me think about it? At least about being your best friend still? I'm sorry that I can't give you an answer right now on your birthday," you murmur. The confessions from Mark came as no surprise, but he never fails to leave you speechless with no clear thoughts in your brain and your heart always full.

"I'm just asking for a chance. Just for anything you can give me," he smiles finally, "How about we eat all this and continue your Modern Family? It's still my favourite show, so I couldn't dream of a better way to spend my birthday."

"I'd like that."

2015

"I'm debuting," Mark barges into the near-empty practice room, huffing and panting like he just ran a marathon, "Y/N, oh my God!"

You're sat cross-legged on the floor with your phone propped up in front of you. Your eyebrows are stitched together tightly, indicating that you were probably either criticising yourself on a recording or trying to learn a choreography. The moment you realise that it's Mark, your whole body unclenches and you relax as you pause the video. You don't comprehend the weight of his words until he says them again.

"Y/N, Y/N, I'm going to debut!" he's practically screaming in joy as he belly slides towards you and crashes into you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh my God, Mark! Really? Tell me everything right now!" you squeeze him back, pride bursting in your chest.

When you both joined SM, you came with the obvious dream of being an idol entertainer. Sure, the company can make all these empty promises to you at the start, but with the way the industry works, nothing is really ever truly for certain. For you, the company had not given you any time scale or idea of what direction they wanted you to go in. You weren't even really that hopeful, considering the company just debuted Red Velvet one year ago, but you were still enduring.

However, it was almost time to debut a new boy group since it had been 3 years and counting since EXO broke into the scene. You were always certain that Mark was always a part of that plan.

"So, do you remember last year when I told you about the infinite boy group idea? It was true! The company gathered all the male trainees and showed them their idea- it's called NCT and it's so cool, trust me! So it's like they're going to debut groups within NCT like different members in each group!"

"Mark, that sounds amazing. Which group are you going to be in?"

"Uh, they said all of them?" Mark frowns in confusion, "Like the first is going to be this unit where members can switch out anytime and it only has a comeback whenever it wants to, and then the second one is like a normal permanent group which I think I'll be with Hyuck and the hyungs, and the third one is a group where we graduate once we hit 20! But I don't think that one's fully confirmed with members yet."

He's running out of breath explaining it to you and his eyes are going crazy so you just laugh and hug tighter, "That's a lot of information, but it still sounds amazing. See Mark, I told you that you're going to be the most important person in this building! You're literally the best."

Mark nudges you so that you break away, "Psh, shut up Y/N. It's still a few months out anyway. We're going to be writing and practicing the debut song for the first unit really soon though."

"And I'm so proud of you," you tell him sincerely, knowing that there are not many people who you can say have worked harder than Mark to achieve their dreams, "Do you feel scared at all?"

He swivels his body so that he's sitting in front of you and he starts playing with your fingers like he always does, "Naturally, I guess. Debuting is a whole new world and being an idol too, but this is what I've been working towards so why shouldn't I be more excited? I've been waiting for this day, but I guess it's human nature to have fear of the unknown."

"It's definitely not wrong to not be scared. I'd be over the moon if they finally tell me I'm going to debut," you sigh dreamily.

"And you will! They can't keep you hidden here any longer and you know that the company loves you so much! You've given everything for them so you deserve it all back," Mark is now rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand, "I can't wait until we achieve our dream together. No matter how long it takes, we'll both be standing on that stage together as idols. It's so close now, Y/N."

You smile softly at the boy, ever the optimist, "I can't wait for it too, Mark. Don't let the fame get to your head so quickly and don't forget me when you're famous okay?"

"You're so silly," Mark laughs, "You'll always be my best friend- wait scratch that-"

"I won't always be your best friend?"

"No! You will! But this is literally the best day ever and I have all this adrenaline and energy right now and if I don't say it now, I don't think I ever will, but all I'm saying is that I've been by your side for nearly 3 years now and you're literally my other half and it's so goddamn obvious that I like you so much and I really want to be your boyfriend. Okay, exhale Mark."

Your eyes widen at his confession and you slide away from him in shock, "Wait, really? You like me? You want to be my boyfriend?"

He looks at you like you just grew two heads, "Y/N, that's literally exactly what I said. Do you like me back?"

Shyness begins to creep out of you while your whole face flushes red. You've never been the type to be shy around Mark, even in the times his words and actions make you feel giddy.

"Mhm, you're my first real crush that developed when we met. I thought I'd grow out of it, but it kept getting stronger the closer we got," you admit.

The first day that Mark Lee walked into the practice rooms and got introduced to the trainees, you thought he was the cutest boy in the world. He was dorky and shy at first, but when he performed in front of you, he turned into a completely different person that made you fall for him even more.

The two of you were the same age and he was your deskmate in Korean lessons. Though Mark had grown up speaking Korean, he had never lived in Korea speaking it almost 100% of the time, so the company thought it would be good for him to join your lessons, especially to get training for the language he would be using as an idol.

The two of you became very fast friends and by the end of the month, you were chasing each other in the cafeteria and sharing food in corners with your own inside jokes.

His face breaks out into a grin, tackling you into a hug, "Aw, my little Y/N likes me back!"

You roll your eyes playfully and shove him off your body, "First of all, I'm 3 months older than you, and second of all, you have been spending way too much time with Donghyuck."

"Yeah that little devil rubs off on people," he sighs, "Whatever. Does that mean we're boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

"Wait, wait, wait. We have to consider the implications! Especially if you're debuting soon! Are we going to tell the company? How is this going to work?" you bombard him with questions, playing your part as the realist in this friendship, "Is this a good idea."

"I mean, half the hyungs have secret girlfriends so we can ask them for help and at least it helps that you're in the company with me so if they do find out it's easier to protect the both of us," Mark replies, "I've actually spent a lot of time thinking about this, believe it or not. You keep me up awake at night sometimes."

"You're so cheesy," you mumble, turning away to hide your blushing face, "But I guess I do want to be your girlfriend- but what if we break up? I don't want to lose you as my best friend!"

"How about this then," he extends his pinky out to you, "Let's pinky swear that even if we break up and this relationship goes horribly wrong, we'll be best friends still. Forever and whenever."

His words are dripping with sincerity and it surrounds you like a blanket. There's no one in this world that you trust more than Mark Lee when you entwine your own pink around his and smile at him, "Always."

Your pinkies are still attached a minute later when he's looking at you with a goofy smile.

You glare at him, "What's going on in that big head of yours?"

"If we're dating, then does that mean I can kiss you?"

The thought of kissing Mark had admittedly crossed your mind more than you could bare to say out loud. You wanted to play it off cool- shove him and roll your eyes or something, but truthfully, you really did want to kiss your dorky best friend Mark Lee.

"I mean, I guess," you shrug, "If you want to."

"Ha ha, I do," he starts leaning in closer and your heart is beating faster.

This was it. You were going to kiss your best friend-turned-boyfriend in the middle of a practice room. He was going to be your first kiss too!

Mark's face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. You can tell he's never done this before with how slowly and nervously he's advancing, but you can see the hope in his eyes.

Your eyes flutter shut. Your lips are almost touching, just ghosting over each others.

"Wait!" you groan as he opens his mouth, "If I'm your first real crush, then who's your first crush overall?"

You smirk, "Jongin-oppa. Duh."

2022

This was the biggest concert of your career. Playing the Olympic Stadium had always just been a distant daydream - something to dream about just to amuse you or occupy time. You'd never thought that you would actually live to see the day when that dream came to fruition.

It wasn't even a realistic dream. No girl groups had ever played their own concert at Jamsil Olympic Stadium, but your group was going to be the first.

Cameras were pointed all around you backstage as you prepared to go on for your opening.

"Leader, give us a pep talk," your bandmate Yana whines while nudging you. You gather in a circle, pretending you're not deafened by the noise of your fans screaming just past the partition, where they're waiting in anticipation.

The 5 of you lean closer, putting your heads together and your hands in the middle. Before that, you make sure to look at their faces carefully and examine each member's expressions.

Jian is a year older than you, but she's nervous as hell and can barely get any words out. You're not worried because she's proven time after time that she's born to be on stage and that she completely transforms in front of an audience showering her in love. Yana seems nervous too, but she's better at hiding it and it comes out through rambles of sometimes unintelligible speech. Erin is gripping her microphone tightly with a poker face, probably recalling all of her raps in her head quickly, even though you know it comes second nature to her. Your youngest, Kali, seems the most excited. That kid is the most fearless idol you've ever met and you're grateful for someone like her on the team.

As for you? Well, you're a mix of all of your members. It's coming up to a decade now since you started training and you still have to take everything that this career throws at you one by one. The feeling backstage is not exactly overwhelming- it's more pride and joy and excitement to be out there and perform the best concert you have to give.

"No one can ever take this away from us. We're the first freaking girl group to host a show here! We've worked so hard for this and we absolutely deserve it. Everyone out there is here for us, so we should give it our all and play the best show ever. Don't let your nerves get to you. Just relax and be the amazing and talented performers I know we all are," you breathe out, "I'm really thankful for you guys and I'm so happy to have you by my side with me for this. We're exactly where we should be. I really love you guys so much. Let's kill it, yeah? 3, 2, 1, Fighting!"

Your members release a chuckle and you all wrap your arms around each other in a group hug. Soon, your cues begin in your in-ear monitors and you break up to take your positions on the platform that will lift you up to the stage.

The concert starts off without a hitch. Everything is perfect and the energy you get as each song progresses is nothing like you've ever felt. The sea of fans is expansive and blinding and you still have to check you're not dreaming every few moments. You eventually settle into the stage and the concert slows down a bit with your solo performances.

Your company had encouraged you all to perform something of your own choosing and while you had a vast repertoire of songs tucked away on your GarageBand, they were mostly unfinished, too personal or waiting to be adapted to your group to go onto your future albums. The song had to be something that would only ever be just for you, but something you could bare to release into the world for everyone else to hear.

Okay, so maybe you let your emotions rule you and get the best of you. Maybe the song you chose was the wrong one to invite your fans to insert themselves into. Maybe it was too personal to sing a song about Mark Lee in front of the biggest crowd you'd ever played in your life, but when else could you?

The baby grand piano is gleaming in the centre of the stage and your blue dress is sparkling from the way the lights hit the crystals adorning the whole slip. You're admittedly more nervous about this, but you think it's more to do with the fact that you know Mark Lee is in the stadium, somewhere.

Your company had warned you that if you wanted to sing this song, you had to do a little speech before that would throw them off your scent, "Hi guys," you pause for their screams, "I know you guys enjoyed Kali's energetic dance and Jian's amazing original song! For my segment, I thought we could have a little chill time and not to dampen your spirits, but I wanted to show you guys this heartbreak track that I wrote after watching too many sad rom-coms. I really hope that none of you guys can relate and if anyone ever breaks your heart, just send them my way, okay? I hope you guys enjoy it. This is '21'."

You let out a deep breath and remind yourself that this was the right choice. Your fingers glide over the keys perfectly like it's muscle memory from the year you've been working on the song. You send a prayer to higher beings that Mark won't kill you as you begin the first lines.

"I missed your 21st birthday. I've been up at home; almost tried to call you, don't know if I should. Hate to picture you half-drunk, happy. Hate to think you went out without me. I'm sorry if you blame me, if I were you I would. Thought you'd see it coming, but you never could. I still haven't heard from your family, but you said your mom always loved me."

Mark celebrated your 21st birthday with you. Public dates were not a thing in your relationship, but this man made every effort to make the best out of your situation. He kicked out your members from your dorm after enlisting their help to decorate the place top to bottom in rose gold banners and balloons. After taking cooking lessons for weeks previously, he had then covered your dining table with expensive cloth and filled up two glasses with wine to go with the steak that he had perfectly cooked all for you. He then took you to the couch and serenaded you with a love song about how much you mean to him and how thankful he was for you. On top of all that, you had boxes and boxes of presents to unwrap that were all thoughtful, beautiful, or meaningful. Mark Lee was the perfect boyfriend.

For Mark's 21st birthday, you were sat cross-legged on your sofa with your phone placed on the table in front of you, face up. It was as if you were waiting for him to be the one to call when you were the one who broke his heart just a few weeks earlier and asked to not be friends.

You were drinking the wine that he poured for you on your birthday and you were half-drunk, punching in his number on your keypad, because even though you deleted his number, you already knew it off by heart. There was just something in you that refused to carry it through. You were a coward and Mark Lee celebrated his birthday without you for the first time in 7 years.

"I see the look in your eye and I'm biting my tongue. You were the love of my life since I was young. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under. I get a little bit alone sometimes and I miss you again. I'll be the love of your life inside your head. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under."

Later on that night, you're lying wide awake and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that you and Mark had decided to plaster all around your ceiling when you were bored one day. The crowd seemed to love the song thankfully and it was easy to get their energy back up. People placed meaning into everything idols did, so you weren't surprised at the people who were making guesses about your love life and the subject of the song. Whatever, they'd never get it right, anyway.

Your phone ringing cuts through the silence and you curse, hoping it won't wake up the other girls in the dorm. They're probably dead asleep from the high-energy concert anyway.

"You're still up?" his voice is grainy through the speaker.

"You're the one that called. Did you not want me to answer?" you quip back, "It's the adrenaline, I think."

"Touché. I was going to leave a voicemail, but this is better, I guess," Mark uttered, "The concert was amazing, by the way. I'm sorry we didn't come and say hello backstage, but we really enjoyed it."

"Thanks, Mark and thank the boys for me too, okay?" you instruct.

"Mhmm, of course," he replies, "That song you wrote was good, you know. But you might've as well called it 'Mark'."

You're laughing softly at his comment, "I should've changed the number, I know. But shut up- if you know it's for you, then why don't you follow my words? I said don't call me tonight."

"I've never been good at following rules when it comes to you," Mark sighs, "Plus, there's not a lot of times I can just call you up like this. At least I had something to say to you."

"You can always call if you want."

"Would you always answer?"

You pause to think, but Mark takes that as confirmation.

"Have you thought about what I said? 6 months ago when I asked if you wanted to be friends again? Or even get back together?"

"That question keeps me awake every night," you joke, "But today, when I was just looking out at the fans and greeting the idols that came backstage after the concert, it really made me think about how much I wanted to be doing all of this with you. I've always regretted what happened between us because it wasn't a choice I wanted to make. There are no words to describe the way that love manifests in front of you from the fans. I always find myself wishing you were still here by my side."

"Hm, cryptic. Is that an answer to my question or do I have to wait another 6 months to call you up and ask again?"

"How long are you going to keep asking?" you uttered, the feeling of disappointment taking over your body as you still couldn't find the courage to finally give in and allow yourself to be happy.

"Until you say yes again."

JULY 2020

The world was still shut as you knew it, yet you were halfway around the world from the place you grew to call home. Your company was generous to give you two months off to spend with your loved ones, and you chose to spend some time cooped up in your parents' house and your childhood home because even though there were so many quarantining requirements to get between the two countries, you hadn't seen your parents in almost 3 years.

Of course, you missed your members, but you lived with them and would continue to see them nearly every day for as long as you could keep your career going. Of course, you missed Mark, but it's not like you could go and see him anyway with the tough restrictions imposed on the Korean citizens.

There was also one big- scratch that- giant problem looming over your and your company's heads. The bane of your existence and public enemy number 1 Dispatch had dangled over your heads the threat of releasing the photos they had grabbed of you and Mark abroad in Vancouver at the start of the year. It wouldn't have been damning evidence considering it was the only photo set they had acquired of the two of you, but you were holding hands with your eyes clearly in view.

Your companies had threatened to sue, of course, but Dispatch has never been scared. Then, your companies tried to play the guilt-trip card and interrogate them on why they would care to do such a thing when the world was suffering enough as it is. Alas, nothing got through to Dispatch. Eventually, your companies surrendered to pay a preposterous amount to get rid of the problem and it probably didn't even make a dent in SM's savings, but it surely hurt your growing but small company even if SM took the majority of the bill.

It was completely eating you up and tearing your insides to know that because of your slip-up with Mark, the trainees in your company had to get their debut pushed back by a good probable few years.

Mark had been the perfect boyfriend, supporting you through your change to your new company and your short training period before your debut. Mark had been there to metaphorically hold your hand as you got to know the other girls and make lifelong sister bonds out of it. Mark had been there to cheer you on in the early mornings when you were doing your first few stages. Mark had been there when your first comeback did even better than your debut and propelled you to the top of the industry.

So why, oh why, were you thinking about whether being together is good for everyone involved? There you found yourself in a dark room, the phone next to your head as soft cries and hiccups escaped your lips.

"Baby, please tell me what's wrong. I hate when you cry and it's really hurting me that I'm not there with you right now. Do you want me to come there? Cause I will! I'll say I'm sick or something." he's rambling through the phone and you can hear that it's raining heavily in Seoul.

"Mark, you know that I love you right?"

"Of course I do," he coos gently, "And you're my once-in-a-lifetime great love. I love you too, baby. What's wrong?"

You don't even believe the words that come out of your mouth when you whisper them, "I can't do this anymore Mark. I think we need to break up."

"What? Y/N, this is not funny," his voice instantly turns serious.

"I'm sorry Mark, but I'm serious," you're sobbing at this point and you're surprised he can even still understand you, "I really don't want to do this but-"

"So why are you doing this? Look, let's just talk when you get back, okay? You're coming home soon, right? Or I can take a flight there, but baby, don't make these rash decisions- we're just missing each other."

"The guilt is eating me up, Mark," you confess in hushed tones, "I feel like I don't deserve to be happy. And every time I'm with you, I feel only this sense of anxiety about being caught together that I can't shake. I love you so much, Mark, but I don't know why I feel like this."

"Y/N, we've dealt with so much over the years and we've fought through everything together! We can work through this together, I promise. Just give me some time to think about what to do and everything will be okay-" he's crying now too and it breaks your heart to hear it because he barely ever cries, "I'll get the company to pay yours back what you paid to those assholes. Come on, baby."

"Mark," you whimper, "I ruined the company. I don't want to hurt my members either. Even if we admit to dating, imagine the hate that my group will face! I don't want to let them down any more than I already have."

"I'll tell the fans to not hate- Y/N just tell me what I can do to stop whatever this break-up idea in your head is. We're meant to be, Y/N. We're each other's perfect match."

"I don't love you any less, Mark. Please remember that. I need to do this for my members and for my company that took a leap of faith in me. I don't want to walk away from you, but I don't see any other choice. I don't want to hurt you or your members either. I can't be seen with you."

His voice is small and strained, "You're breaking my heart, Y/N."

"And I'm never going to forgive myself for it."

EARLY 2018

This was definitely the hardest decision of your life and it wasn't one that you took lightly either. It was something you had been thinking about for over a year and more intensely when the company started to press you on extending your exclusive training contract.

Herin Seo had entered SM just before you did and she lived and trained with you. She was your best friend outside of Mark and it broke your heart when she left the company only after 4 years in 2017. There were only a few months left on her contract, but she was desperate to get an out and an idol survival show finally gave her the motivation to break free.

Right now, she's taking the seat in front of you after setting down your favourite drinks from your favourite cafe that she still remembers, "Iced vanilla matcha latte for me and an iced oat latte for my best friend."

"You're the best Herin! My treat next time," you promise as you take the first sip. It's been a while since you've come to the café since it hurts to go when it used to be your spot with Herin.

"Well better be soon because I'm leaving in 5 days," she pouts, "I'm sorry I could only come to visit for a short time."

"It's okay. I'm glad to see you anyway after all these months," you grin, "How's settling back in Manchester?"

"I mean it's always been home but it took me a few months to really get to grips with the fact that I wasn't leaving after a week like I did when I would visit during my training. It's really weird to know England is now my permanent home and that I'm going to start school again there," she looks outside the large window that overlooks the river, "I really really miss Seoul."

You take her hand and muster your best comforting smile, "I'm really sorry that things didn't turn out how we wanted them to."

"Ha, it's not your fault Y/N. I mean, you're in the same boat; what are you planning to do with this contract thing?"

You sigh at the age-old question that's been plaguing your mind for months. In fact, your meeting with the company to decide your future was tomorrow and you still had no concrete idea of what you wanted, "I really don't know Herin. SM has been everything I've known for 5 years and everyone I love is at the company. I don't even know how to switch agencies or what happens at other agencies. At the same time, I know they're planning for a group soon, but I have this feeling that I can't shake when I think about it. I look at Jimin and Minjeong and my sweet baby Yizhou and I don't think I'm what the company wants."

"But they've invested so much time and money into you!" Herin furrows her eyebrows, "Surely they're building a group around you, Yizhuo, Koeun, Lami, and Hina! We were a pre-debut team! They can't just disregard all of you guys, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," you're fiddling nervously with your hands, "They've been good to me, but they're a business at the end of the day. I'm so torn up and I was thinking you could help me. How did you know that you wanted to leave the company?"

She thinks for a while before answering your question, "Well the survival show was just the reason why I left before my contract was up, but I already knew that I wasn't going to stay on and re-sign. For me, it just felt like I had more to give, but the environment I was in wasn't letting me grow anymore. I felt like there was nothing more I could give to SM. Even though Idol School didn't work out for me, I was still glad that I went."

You nod along to her story, "I haven't told anyone about this Herin. Mark's been bugging me about my terms for re-signing my contract, so I don't think it's even fathomable for him for me to leave."

"It's about you, Y/N. This is your story, your career, and your decision. There are going to be a lot of people that are going to be hurt or angry, but they will never understand what you're going through. Especially not the people who already debuted," Herin advises, "Look, talk about it with Mark tonight, and don't leave it until after your meeting because that might hurt more, but if he really loved you and wanted what's best for you, he would trust in your decision."

"You're right Herin. Thanks for being there for me."

So, you called Mark later on that night to come over. You had cooked up a few dishes for you to share and asked your dorm mates if they could give you a few hours for some alone time. Telling Mark was definitely going to be hard, but you couldn't imagine the conversation with the girls, who were going to be the most hurt. You remember when Herin left- you weren't angry, but you were overwhelmingly sad about the thought of the girl you started your journey with not being there anymore. That was when you started to question if you should still be there too, but you were scared to instill this thought in your other younger trainees that maybe thought they still had a chance.

"Hi baby," Mark is beaming when you open the door to him. He quickly shuts the door behind him with his foot and wraps you up in a tight hug, making sure to plant a kiss on your lips and then all over your face, "I missed your gorgeous face so much- oh my God the apartment smells so good! What did you cook?"

"Just some beef and rice," you lead him over to the dining table with the food set out already.

"Oh my gosh, you're so amazing," Mark smooches your cheek affectionately and takes his seat on the table. You had lived at the dorm for your whole time at SM and along the way, Mark had chosen his own seat at your dining table for when you had dinners inside, which was almost every date you shared.

You start with small talk, letting him eat and enjoy his meal before you inevitably break a little bit of his precious heart. You hadn't seen Mark for a few days since he was busy with some schedules, so he tells you all about the boys and what they've been up to recently. They're working on the biggest project NCT has ever done so far- a full 18-member release- and it's going spectacularly well. The album itself was a few weeks out, but each unit had been dropping some songs along the way.

"Babe, the company is throwing a release party when the album drops in a few weeks! Isn't that so exciting? They actually asked us what food we want at the party so we're all going crazy. I think Hyuck asked for a fondue fountain, so I'm dying to see if they'll actually give that," he's chuckling, halfway through his plate, "Do you have any special requests?"

Okay, deep breath. Now's the time. It's all or nothing.

"Actually Mark, I invited you over to talk about something," you begin and the smile on his face drops at your warning tone, "Please don't be upset with me."

"Ah, what's wrong?" he's pouting and you have to look away to get the strength to say what you need to. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would find some reason to convince you to stay just for him.

"My contract meeting is tomorrow," you gulp, "I'm going to leave the company, Mark."

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor makes you cringe, "What? Y/N, what? What do you mean you're leaving the company? Where are you going to go? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just made up my mind today, Mark. I'm sorry I didn't confide in you, but this was a decision I had to make for myself," tears are welling up along your lash line, "I spoke to Herin today and I realised that the only thing making me stay any longer was you."

"But you're so close to debut!" he's arguing pleadingly, crouching beside you and holding your hand, "Babe, I can't imagine this company without you."

"I'm not Mark. You know that I'm not any closer to debut than I was when I joined 5 years ago. You're indispensable to this company, but I'm really not," you expressed, "I don't want to leave and I love you, your boys, and my girls, but I think this is what's best for me."

"But where are you going to go?" Mark sniffles, "I love you so much Y/N, but what's going to happen to us?"

You shake your head at his insinuations, "No, Mark. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to us and I'll make sure that whatever company I join will know about us and protect us. I hope you'll find it in you to forgive me for this."

He stands up and wraps his arms around you from above, "I'm sorry for reacting this way Y/N, but there's nothing for you to be sorry for. I trust you, okay? I love you and I want you to do what's best for you. I know I can't make decisions for you, but I'll try my best to support you however I can."

You look up at him with adoration dripping from your eyes, "I love you, Mark. We're going to be okay, yeah?"

He brings his head down and connects your lips in the most love-filled way that your heart explodes in that familiar overwhelming feeling that Mark always seems to do to you, "We're going to be okay, baby."

LATE 2022

The world was playing a sick joke on you- it really was. There was no way your whole career wasn't just some April Fools' prank or that you weren't just the main target of some joke show.

You always prided yourself on being close with the company's staff and higher-ups. As a leader of your group, you felt that it was integral to your success that you were able to communicate your wishes and worries to the company and this gave you more creative freedom too. Apparently, the company too was getting more comfortable with you.

"What did you just say?" your eyes were incredulous, peering towards your sheepish CEO, "That's actually the worst idea I've ever heard in my life."

"Look, Y/N, you wanted a feature on your song," your CEO chuckles at your response, "I think this is an amazing idea."

"You're literally giving Dispatch a green light to release those photos. Do you want me to email you a picture of me and Mark making out so you can just tweet it from the official account?" you counter, "Why in the hell would having my ex-boyfriend feature on my solo debut title track be anything short of a terrible idea?"

"Mark is incredibly famous and incredibly talented," she begins, counting with her fingers, "You have high standards. We have a good relationship with SM Entertainment. Your fans love shipping the two of you together since you're in the same age group."

"He's also my ex-boyfriend. Is that not extremely problematic? Everyone will hyper analyse every interaction we have or have had and then they're actually going to figure out that we dated." you ponder, "The worst part of this all is that I know he would say yes if his company lets him."

"Exactly- he's your ex-boyfriend, not your current one. By all logic, he's now just another fellow idol or colleague that you can collaborate with. Anyway, SM will definitely say yes; look how many of their idols are in relationships or at least feature on tracks."

"This is all Crush and Joy's fault," you groan, looking at the pleased expression on your CEO's face knowing that she had won the argument.

When your company proposed the idea of having a solo debut to you half a year ago, you had vehemently declined the opportunity, citing it wouldn't be beneficial to your group as a whole and that you wanted to be known for your group and not your individuality. Your members, on the other hand, had different ideas and talked you into at least hearing out the company. You had really only agreed to the debut when they told you that they would give you full musical freedom and the help that you personally requested. It only seemed like a good idea when you realised that someone in the group needs to be the one to start doing solo activities so the rest of the group can follow suit. You've always known that Jian has been curious about acting.

So you find yourself swiveling in your chair in the studio, waiting for Mark to find his way to the room. It's your first time working together for your solo debut and the last time you had spoken to him was a text he sent you asking if you actually wanted him to feature on the track before he gave a response to his company. You begrudgingly replied a yes because even though you still didn't think it was a good idea, you couldn't imagine yourself working with anyone other than Mark. The industry was crazy sometimes.

The knocking on the door snapped you out of your thoughts and you jumped up to open it to Mark Lee holding two cups on the other side.

"Hey pretty. I got us some coffee," he pushes a cup into your hand and you move aside to let him in, "How are you?"

"Don't call me pretty," you mumble as you turn away to hide the blush starting to appear on your cheeks, "But I'm okay. It's getting busier with the holidays coming up, so you know how that is, but the company thought this time was a great time to work on my debut."

"I feel you," Mark grimaces, taking a seat on the other spinning chair, "Don't tell anyone but Dream is actually having another comeback. It's going to be out just before Christmas."

"Another one?" your eyes widen in shock, "But you just released 2 Baddies and I know you definitely have a repackage soon!"

"Yeah, it's hard to be part of both units," he sighs, "Cause our new album will be over 6 months out from Beatbox, but only 3 months from 2 Baddies. Whatever, you know I love what I do."

"Doesn't mean you don't get tired," you cross your arms, "Now I feel bad having you on this track. You are way too busy, Mark! Why didn't you or your company say no?"

He shakes his head to reassure you, "Nah, trust me Y/N; you're exactly the break I need from the boys. Besides, I've never had the chance to formally work with you, so why would I give up the opportunity when it comes? We always made a great team back then."

You smile fondly, thinking about all those times when you and Mark were young teenagers and would huddle up in the practice rooms writing songs together and creating melodies on your guitars.

"I guess we did. Anyway, have a listen to this track. It's just something I wrote a while ago, but it always seemed unfinished so I thought that a feature would complete it," you hand him a pair of headphones and gesture over to your laptop with the track already loaded up, "If you like it, you can do your part in the second verse, but otherwise we can start from scratch."

You watch his face as he listens to the song and you're endeared to find out he still carries the same habit of letting his face do all the talking whenever he's listening to something new. His head is bobbing up and down as he nods along to the song and you can easily tell which parts he likes.

"So, what do you think?" you inquire.

He has a grin on his face, "I love it! Honestly! It's a cute song about a crush, I guess?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to go with any song that's lyrically strong for my debut. This song's pretty unassuming and you know how important it is to the companies to have a general public-friendly song," you shrug. They didn't really explicitly give you guidelines, but you knew what the company was really looking for- a hit, "Can you work with that beat? I'll send you the song of course and you don't have to rush or anything."

"I'll see what I can do," Mark teases, "Can I get an insider sneak peek at the rest of the album? You know, feature perks and all of that."

You flush even redder than when he complimented you earlier, "I'm going to be so honest Mark, the whole album is about you. Every song I've written is about you."

He shrugs casually, "I would've figured. You're a big inspiration to my writing too. Is that a no, then?"

You decide that there was no point shying away from Mark's request, considering that he would end up hearing each and every song whenever your album came out anyway. Plus, the two of you were artists and you understood being each others' muse- good or bad. Mark had seen you in every vulnerable state possible. Showing him your songs that you were comfortable enough to release to the public anyway was nothing to you.

"You can listen."

You don't bother giving Mark any explanations for any song- he's the one that lived through these experiences with you. You leave him with your tracklist on the laptop and tell him you would leave him for a few moments to grab some lunch for the two of you in the company cafeteria. You were hoping it was going to be a quick trip down and back up, but you had run into a producer you were also working with on the album, and that gave Mark at least 5 songs worth of time alone.

What you hadn't expected upon returning was to find Mark crying softly, his sweater paws rubbing at his eyes.

"Mark? Are you crying?"

Your surprise caused him to jump up and frantically wipe away his tears, "Ha. That's a really sad album, huh?"

The guilt continues to eat you up from the inside out, "I'm not going to release all of them, I think. A few sad songs and fill the rest in with inconspicuous tracks."

"Well your songs are beautiful anyway," he gives you a pained smile, "You're an amazing writer. I just wish I wasn't the cause of your pain."

"Hey," you scold softly, bumping his arm with yours, "Don't say that. You were nothing but amazing to me. You made me so happy. It was just the circumstances around us."

He chuckled bitterly to himself, "If we weren't famous- if this industry wasn't so vicious, I would still have you?"

"Mark," you warn, but he cuts you off.

"Have you thought about what I asked you?" he interrupts, "It's been a year, you know? I still miss you."

"Mark, it's not that easy," you counter, "Nothing's changed!"

"It's either you want to be with me or you don't. Don't skirt around it and just tell me the truth, okay? It would really make working together easier if I know where we stand. I won't stop fighting for us until you tell me to stop, so tell me what you want, Y/N," Mark pleads, standing up to face you, "I'm sorry for springing it out of nowhere, but I need to know. I can't move on until I know to let you go."

You hate yourself for what you did to Mark. He was the boy that taught you how to love and how to love patiently, sincerely, and passionately. He was the boy that held your hand and rubbed your back when you cried and the boy that celebrated every success with you. He was the boy that told you how proud he was of you, even every time you felt like the world was collapsing around you. He was the boy who would lay kisses on your forehead and whisper sweet nothings in your ear whenever you faced another setback. He was the boy that made flowers bloom out of your heart from his kind gestures and the way he showed you how much he loved you. And if nothing else, Mark was the boy that made you happy.

You remember a conversation with your youngest member the night before. You had confided in her how nervous you were to work with Mark and she lectured you on finally letting yourself be happy. You were already a 4-year idol and Mark was coming onto 7 years. You weren't rookies anymore and you had solid fanbases. It was clear that the companies weren't extremely opposed to revealing that the two of you were dating back then, so she told you that it would be fine now. Kali told you, rather cliché-ly, that the heart wants what it wants and your heart has been screaming and begging from Mark since the second you ended that phone call with him all those years ago.

"Y/N?"

"Mark," you meet his eyes and melt all over again, "It's you, Mark."

Mark wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you tighter. The other hand reaches up to your face to brush your hair out of your face and cradle your cheek as he brings it up to his own face. Your noses are almost touching as Mark lays it all bare for you, "Do you love me or do you not, Y/N?"

"I do," the feeling is cathartic when you finally tell him and when he finally presses his lips in a searing kiss that sets off all the fireworks in your heart. The feeling of Mark is familiar, but the kiss is longing and hopeful and you can't get enough.

You're both panting when he breaks the kiss and he rests his forehead against yours as he laughs softly in relief. He's been waiting to do that for over 2 years.

"I need you back, Y/N. It's been the worst 2 years of my life," he whispers against your lips, "Please come back."

You smile when he opens his eyes. They're that shade you grew to love all those years ago and they're sparkling like the day he first asked you to be his girlfriend.

Nothing's changed in your environment, that's for sure. What you're also sure about is that each time you see Mark again, you feel a little braver and more courageous. Each time Mark tells you that he loves you even though you shattered his heart like glass, you feel like his love can get you through anything. Maybe you needed those 2 years to see what you were missing or maybe you were just stupid.

Whatever. All you know now is that even 2 years on, Mark Lee is still begging for your love and your brain is losing out in its battle against your heart. It might've taken you two years, but now you see that all you need is Mark Lee by your side to get through the torrential storm that was heading your way and that you were going to get out on the other side to a bright and sunny sky, as long as he was holding your hand and leading you.

You place a kiss on his lips that tells him all he needs to know, "I'm here, Mark. It's always been you. You've always been the one. Always."

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angelwhisp3rs · 4 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ man like me

Pairing: RE!2 Leon x fem!reader

Summary: Leon has gone through so much training, life always made it look like he didn't luck out. Always the butt of the joke, he questioned if he would ever be a man. His partner seems to think he is man enough for her <3

Tags: Smut; bj; he cums in her face; slight sub!leon; leon gets called a fairy because he is not considered a "macho man" (i hate m*n)

Notes: First post! I'm so excited, i've been brainrotting for RE for years, and just now decided to add to the community. Love you all! Feel free to give me any tips for my writing or some prompts!

Also, please! If you are a minor, i don't feel comfortable with you interacting with my content, so no minors allowed ok?

Have you ever felt like you weren’t blessed? Well, Leon felt that every day of his life. His parents dying, his rough childhood in the orphanage, he had to work twice as harder than anyone of his peers to achieve anything. Now, as a cop, he believed that this was all in the past - he chose the manliest job of them all.

Oh, well. Turns out that stations were just an adult hangout spot for jocks that never grew out of their high school days.

The women would coo at him, calling him cute and adorable, while the older officers would sneak some comments about him being a “fairy”. Fucking idiots.

After some months working with them, Leon managed to gain at least some respect among his colleagues - he was a great cop after all, and he even managed to tone down some of the ridiculous teasing (and plain homophobia, if you ask him).

To the surprise of everyone there, a new recruit would be coming in, making Leon celebrate a little on the inside - maybe it would be his chance to stop being the butt of the joke and finally laugh along with the rest, not being the one laughed at.

He couldn't wait to finally turn his luck around.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Turns out he is wrong. Of course things wouldn’t go his way once. The rookie was a girl - well, a woman, and a pretty one at that.

The men there went ballistic. The single, desperate for attention, and the married, aching for an affair. Used to the calm and pliant women in the precinct, the men didn’t wait for even 5 minutes to let out their disgusting comments, calling her a hot piece of their ass, some even suggesting that they could ‘teach her’ the ways around there.

They were so wrong. Cutting their comments short, she looked at them in disgust, and distributed answers that put them back into their places. Hell, she even dared to ask how the deputy’s wife wasn't arrested for animal cruelty for sleeping with a pig like him.

Leon looked at her with stars in his eyes - she was different from him after all, not letting those idiots run through her. The bigoted idiots decided that as a “punishment” to her, she would be his new partner, matching their work hours and patrolling together. That fact made him excited, but not for long. Unfortunately, his intrusive thoughts began swarming his head: “Do you really think she won’t make fun of you?” and “A woman like her would eat up a man like you”.

The only thing he could do was stand a hand to her, offering a handshake “Hi there, partner. I’m Leon Kennedy”.

She had a predatory smirk on her face, looking at him up and down. “Hi, Leon. I think we’re gonna be great partners”.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

When Leon thought she would eat up a guy like him, he didn’t think it would be like that. It was way after the time they had to clock out, and they were the only ones left in the station. Leon was backed up in the evidence room, his pants on the floor as her mouth worked around his cock, drenching it with her spit. The only sounds heard were the man trying to drone out his moans with his hand on his mouth, and her gagging as she took him as deep as she could in her throat.

To Leon, this had to be a dream - no way that would ever happen. But as he looked down, her sinful eyes looking up at him, he knew that he couldn’t even dream of something as good as this. He had to be careful not to knock out the evidence in the surrounding files, choosing to rest his hand on her ponytail - quite convenient for the situation.

“You are doing so well, baby. Why don’t you come in my face, and show them that you are the only man able to do that, huh?” She taunted him as she kept pumping his cock his her hands, slick with her saliva and the precum that drooled on his tip

Her mouth returned to his member as she kept her hands going, thriving at his blushing face and his desperate whines. The man was going crazy, it’s been so long since something other than his hand touched his cock, that the 8 minutes of her mouth - which he believed to be 30, were enough to bring him to the edge. Soon, her mouth pulls back as she jerks him faster, angling at her face as he coats it with his pearly cum, hitting her cheeks, mouth and chin.

While he believed that his soul had left his body and come back, she stood up and grabbed some tissues there to clean her face. All cleaned up, she helped him put his pants back on and pressed some kisses to his jaw, whispering to his ear “Why don’t you come over to my place and show my cunt who is the only man to fill it up?”. After that, she left the evidence room with a smirk, looking back at him once and throwing a wink at him.

Well, it turns out that luck was a person, and it finally caught up to him.

398 notes · View notes

dietmountaindewbae · 4 months

Note

hiii i LOVE ur fics omg pls never stop writing,

could you maybe do something You-ish (the TV show "You") (idk if you've seen it but it's amazing) something stalker-ish? where alex is joe and reader is his, soon to be, gf (cuz he makes her) (any alex era) 💌

hope ur well🤍💋

xxiii. obsession

alex turner x reader

word count: 12626

summary: We ran into each other by chance or by fate, your clumsiness started something for me, something for us, and it's my duty to find out who you are. (the car! era) This story is written on Alex's narrative.

warnings: obsessions & rough s*x

song recommendation: tear you apart by she wants revenge

───── ୨୧ ─────

Ever since that day outside of a party, when you fell into my arms, drunk and loud, I had never felt so high, I had felt something the moment you smiled at me and flushed from the embarrassment, your eyes watery from the cold, your lips red full of blood, alcohol running fast through your veins, my heart falling from my mouth, you pulled away and hugged yourself, too embarrassed from what had happened, you thought it was too much booze, I thought it was meant to be, right place and right time. You just said "Sorry," I helped you to get back on your feet, our hands lightly graze and we lock in a stare, but then your mates dragged you across the street, they had dragged you away from me, like parents and their out-of-control kid, you waved goodbye at me, and all I could do was smile and wave goodbye to you, I was a fool, I didn't know what to say, it was one of those 'what would have happened?' moments when I ask myself, 'what if I had just said "It's ok, don't worry, love"' Icould vividly picture us walking down the street, going for some food because we were pissed, I would've kissed you, and asked for your number, then we could be dating, holding hands in the street, laughing at everything, hanging out with your stupid mates, if they hadn't been there and taken you away from me, I probably wouldn't have found meself, hiding behind the threes in the middle of a cold winter in LA, hoping to be in the warmth of your arms than out in the cold darkness of the street. I can't help to wonder if you ever think of me.

Your name and your last name stayed in a constant loop on my mind, one of your mates, the one with the light brown hair had screamed it as she found you falling into my arms, it would be stupid if I didn't look for you, right? You're gorgeous, you were nice and interesting, It would be weird if I didn't try to find your social media. It was easy to find you, I hate to admit how easy it is to find everything online these days, I found your Instagram and Facebook with just a few clicks on my computer, it's too easy it makes me laugh.

I scrolled through every single one of your posts on Facebook, you had a few, not many, everything was mainly about your little family trips and your sister's child, I made a note that you might just have Facebook out of pressure from your mother and sister since they always tag you in memes or those annoying TED Talk videos and you never answer, I found your mother's page, widowed, 49 years old, looks 45, she gave you her face, older sister, found her page too, married with a toddler, awfully bitter since she has to post where she is at all times, even if her child had taken a massive shit and had the looks of a giant worm, she would've posted it, I left the best for last. Your Instagram, no one these days uses Facebook.

Your Instagram was private but empty with not a single sight of you... so it's no use, what about your friends?... Hello you... I could hold on to these group pictures Larissa posted, thank you internet! Your friend group was small but they knew how to get around, only 4 people, two girls called Julie and Larissa, and Julie's boyfriend Luca, 5 if you counted me in, soon, luckily for me, Julie had an empty page, barely any pictures, just her and Luca but her profile was public but that lead me to find your other friend, Larissa had pictures of her face and some of you and Julie at pubs, very self-centered I suppose, Luca only posted about being a gym addict. I took a more personal approach, your sister Nina, who loves you very much, she had plenty of pictures of you. Thanksgiving was at your house, you looked gorgeous in those pictures, you wore a white dress with red flowers and black platforms, your long hair in beautiful waves, if any pervert were to see it, you would be such an easy victim with that long hair, but you're not, you're not so easy to hunt down in the dark. There was a picture of you and your sister's baby boy, sitting next to the three by a bay window, great. I took note of the stores, houses, and historical buildings nearby and then reality hit me as I took a cab on the way to your house.

Come on Alex, what are you doing? You look like a creep with your cap and coat in the middle of the night, It's only just a crush it'll go away, just like all the others. But you see? That's the problem with you, you're not, this is dangerous but I'll take my chances for you, I'm not obsessed with you, like I said, it's only just a crush. I hide behind some trees in front of your house on the other side of the street, and I contemplate this wonderful girl in her bedroom, going round and round with a book in her hands.

At night me head couldn't stop spinning, making all of these scenarios, about a girl who meets a stranger, and they fall madly in love in just a split second. I didn't need more, I could hold on to your light vanilla perfume and the softness of your hair, your lips, your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your breasts in the blouse you wore that night, I want to hold you close and kiss you hard.

For next few days I followed you around, I made you a time table, every morning at 5:30 you went for a run, and you finished off at home some with exercises you found on YouTube, you were visibly struggling, and that made me laugh but I felt bad for doing so, you worked hard, you finished around 6:30, you liked walking like a true new yorker, in your most sober looks, sometimes in a dress with a blue navy sweater on top of dresses , jeans, and a silky shirt, winter or no winter, you loved wearing tank tops, loved exposing even just a little bit of your body, even in the coldest days, your legs, your beautiful shoulders, a v-neck, mini skirts, checkered shorts or pants, and sexy patterned tights with colors like pastel blue, and even red to spice up your all black outfits, and you always wore that luscious and berry coloured lipstick on your lips, heels, motorcycle boots, ballerina flats, dresses, chunky sweaters, straight leg vintage jeans, coats, heels, shoulder bags, mini bags, but what a must was, something that never came off of you, your golden necklace, you're an everything girl, you dressed for the day, it told you exactly what to wear, even if you broke your pattern, you mostly dressed like Jane Birkin, jeans, white shirt, chunky purse, but you love leather, leather belts, leather jackets. Then you walk to your favorite café, and your drink depends on how tired you feel, black coffee for busy days or cappuccinos for the days you don't feel in a rush, then you take the metro, read a book and sip on your coffee while listening to your music, you are in college by 7:30, have 30 minutes to spare, but you're wise, and you use them organize yourself while you ease up with some music, I've never seen a longer playlist to be honest, there's a bit of everything there, you write your things in a red wine journal, I wonder what's in those little pink notes you stick on your notebook.

I made sure you got safely to your workplace after school at 4:00 pm, a bakery, you love talking to the people at the register as they ask you for your favorite dessert, and you always choose the same, tiramisu, rich coffee with some liquor, mascarpone carefully enveloped with delicious whipping cream, and a touch of cocoa sifted all over the tiramisu, and you juggle back and forward with doing school work, help in the kitchen, serve the costumers with a bright and friendly smile, you're tired and they don't pay you enough. And when you get home a 10 pm, you don't go to sleep, you stay up until you're finished but you never truly are, no matter how late or early, you can't sleep, why is that beautiful? Aren't your sheets made of the softest cotton? But I can see, that you are compromised to live in a city that never sleeps, you get ready for your next job at your nearest live jazz pub as a bartender, I'm very familiar with that type of job, you serve the customers with a kind smile as the music rocks you, you talk to other girls, and the artists flirt with you from time to time but you didn't submit, you knew better than that, you got paid well, the tips that fell on your back pocket from the nasty old men helped you to afford your apartment, barely making it to the next cut but you made it.

And every restless night when your mind couldn't stop thinking you went out to the nearest pub, and you made new friends, some men flirted with you until sadly, one night I had to watch you leave with one of them, he conquered your body before me, I wonder if you ever think of me in that way, a sexy stranger, that clouded your mind with ideas until you finally gave in. He did what he wanted to do, and when he left, you were still flushed and needy, that night I watched you hump your pillow with angst to get yourself off, a gorgeous picture to see, one that was engraved in my brain since then.

Every night when I crashed in my bed, and I prayed for this to go away but it continued to grow, I prayed for you to get out of me head, but your face, your smile, every curve of your body lived in me head, and if I don't something about it, you'll hunt me down forever.

I walked down the street on a Saturday night, It's been a week since we bumped into each other, discreetly searching for you with my eyes, until, I found you, in your West Village, street-level, white, vintage but modern apartment that might be hard for you to afford but you keep on paying it because the creepy landlord has a massive crush on you, he cannot fool me, I know what it's like.

You live in such a melancholic part of New York and also warm, old, and historic, it holds so many stories, and memories that's why it reminds you of home, like the baby pictures your mom posts, your living area illuminated with yellow lights from you mid-century lamps, like the sky in a beautiful afternoon, laying in your sette in a white tank top and panties, finally, you get to relax and enjoy yourself.

I could see the outline of your body through your thin linen white curtains, you were wearing vintage headphones connected to your record player, reading a book, Bukowski's 'Love Is A Dog From Hell' Yes, it must certainly is. Then suddenly you stood up, I'm certain you're barefoot, through a crack in the curtain I can see you're approaching the window, I could see the left side of your face, soft, round, cute little pointy nose, and your eyes, a sparkle in them as you stare into the sky, pink pouty lips, and a little beauty spot in your cheek, your phone in the ear, moving your lips with a smile as if you were talking to the person in the other line in real life. You nodded a couple of times and then you hung up, I saw the outline of your body, running towards your bedroom, what's got you in such a hurry? But before you forget, you turn up the music so loud the whole neighborhood can hear it, you choose something classic 'Bang Bang' by Nancy Sinatra, shoot me down, your linen curtain reflecting the light, and you take out your top in one move tossing it away, the outline of your naked beautiful body stretching had made me think so many things to do with it in less than a second, you pick your clothes with care, hanging them in front of your mirror, posing with the clothes on top of your body.

You sit somewhere in your room, and I can hardly see you, something about your magnetism draws me to you, so I stupidly cross the street and find shelter behind a three, but I get even more stupid as I get to see you doing your makeup in the mirror, your phone rings and your face goes blank, you answer and I see how your expressions change like the way flowers rot, gradually you get darker and darker, until... you break into tears putting an end to the call, and you push your phone away, you look into the mirror, and I see a tear roll down your cheek slowly, your face scrunched, and your cheeks reddened, you look at yourself in the mirror, all I can see is hate and rage, and then, you're cold as ice, not another tear rolls down your cheeks, you clean them up with a soft cotton pad and continue to apply makeup on your face, I wonder who has made you cry? even if it was just one small insignificant tear, whoever that was...they still made you cry.

Before you leave, you check yourself one last time, the dress you choose to wear was way better than the typical night outfits women wear these days, less ostentatious, you like dressing feminine, classic but modern, but not so pretty that you look like a little girl, you were more than pretty, you were hot, steaming, boiling, no man would approach you like that, and that was the sad truth for you but good news for both of us, not as any man would approach you, they had to have big balls to do so, baby doll dress, platforms, and a racer jacket, cute, stylish, edge, as always, you were sharp as a blade to the skin. Your hair is straight and it looks longer than when it's on your natural waves, and the wind blows perfectly on it, but that velvet red lipstick on your mouth might be the death of me.

You went outside, took a cab, and went out, I waved my arm, and soon enough a cab passed by.

"Where to?" The man said.

"Follow that cab in front of you," He took off, it was sad, drivers these days don't even care for men like this, the ones that just order to do something like that, there were a lot of crazy people here, and I had to protect you from them.

I see you being dropped off at a crowded pub, I hand a good amount of money to the man, and he drives off, I see you go inside, and you find your mates, I sit across from you, not too close so that you can see me but, but not so far so I don't hear you. You hug each one of them and you sit in the booth next to Julie.

"What's the occasion?" You said, next thing, Julie turns and shows a sparkling diamond on her finger, "Luke, Luke, Luke!" You teased her in awe, you held her hand carefully, examining it up close to the ring, "It's stunning" You said with a kind smile, it was amazing how I wished to be that hand, the one you caressed with care.

"I wanna do something big for the bachelorette, and I don't know where to start, I mean..." It must be hard for you, everyone around you is married or has a serious more than the 2-year relationship you can't hold on to, everyone has a kid now, everyone turns 27 and suddenly they already have a house, a child, and a loving husband, I wouldn't be like that ever, things won't be like that with me, I promise, we can take it as slow and calm as you want, or maybe go fast, I can go both ways, I just have to wait for the moment I may finally introduce myself to you, maybe by tomorrow when you go out but it must be soon before you forget about that last Saturday night, and it looks like you are in the process of, you are emptying those glasses of wine like coke in a hot summer day.

"Ease up with the wine," Larissa says, "You're gonna end up embarrassing yourself like the last time, you always have to pull a seen," Here we go.

"What fuckin' scene?" You spit back, "I was tired and I had been wearing high heels for more than 2 hours, yes, I was drunk but it was a genuine accident" You were annoyed, why could no one understand that? Accidents happen, and it must be hard for you to stand that pain, if I had stayed over, I would've given you a lovely massage, and treated you the way you're supposed to, I'm starting to be not very fond of Larissa.

"Uhu, yeah, but do you remember the last time you went to that party and got so drunk you "accidentally" confused a cigarette with marihuana and cried in the street like a baby?" Larissa, you just had to make it worse, didn't you?

"Fuck off, I can do whatever the fuck I want, if you don't want to believe me that's fine, oh!... and a scene, Larissa, a scene is what you pull when you yell at everyone as if you were the fucking owner of everything and everyone" You took your purse and rushed out, I see that Julie went out to get you, so I discreetly follow her, and find you waving your arm for a cab.

"Wait, don't go," Julie says with a caring tone, "I know you're not ok, you can't lie to me, you know how Lari is..."

"But why does she have to be a fuckin' news flasher of everything I do, embarrassing me in front of everyone, making me look like I'm not fun to be around," Julie tried to hug you but you wouldn't let her near.

"You say some scary shit while you're drunk, that's the only thing I'm going to agree on, but I can see you're not ok," Intuitive, honest, and kind, good choice for a friend.

"He called me" Julie sighs, who is he? This is the prize of being old fashioned, just like me, that's another thing I like about you, you have a life, even if you spend time alone, you go out in the world instead of taking a picture of it and expose your life, you have a little life, but it's yours and only yours.

"What did he want?" You shrugged and searched for something in your leather purse, taking a cigarette, and desperately flicking the lighter on.

"He just asked how I was, while he's off... modeling and possibly fucking two to three girls every single night, and he asks me how I am, drunk and high, he's so... he's-" To find the right words to describe that wanker only made me think about the damage he must have done to you, come on, spill the name, "That's not really everything, he's just-"

"Part of everything" Julie answered back, hugging you close to her, a caring hug, sweet, I could take a picture of it, I'm glad there is Julie for you, "Go home, and text me when you get there," She holds her arm up, taking a cab for you and sending you back home, I did the same thing as before, and the man did as he was told. But the problem was, you didn't go home, you went to a nearby liquor store and bought more wine for yourself, you drank it straight from the bag and you plugged in your wired earphones to your phone, kicking your feet and humming to the music 'New Dawn Fades' by Joy Division, a sad post-punk classic, you should be glad I am here to be on the look for you as you waddle in the steers, an easy target, if anyone dared to do anything to you, well, you must be glad there is me.

You walked a few blocks to your house, but you didn't go in, you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, so you sat by the staircase, defeated since you were desperately looking for your keys in your little purse, and you stared into the empty dark street, and you cried, you kept crying so hard it makes me feel the need to go and help you, I didn't really think about what I was doing, you were desperate, and I was afraid of letting you stay outside like that, then you stood up, unpredictable as always, I see you taking a fast pace. What are you thinking about? Did you forget something? You walk a few blocks until you stay still on a crowded street, the cars on that street go by faster, and you stare into the void as the red lights flash before you in straight lines, your cheeks stained with black tears, the darkness takes you in like one of their children, your head wrapped up in horrible ideas, so dark they blind your eyes, so atrocious your mind can only find one way to make you see the light at the end, you can't find peace, your body is tired, your eyebags are heavy, and you don't feel like yourself, you've lost control and you murmur something over and over again under your breath like some sort of sick prayer...

"A loaded gun won't set you free"

I see you take a step forward, now standing on the pavement, my heart drops to my stomach, and I run to get you, the wind blowing my cap away, what are you doing? why are you doing this? I can fix it, I can fix you, I can help you, I'll make it all disappear, before you take another step, the bus coming your way was out to get you, and you closed your eyes, but I won't let you go like that, my hand grasps your shoulder tightly, and I pull you to my arms, you're cold, shivering, your wired earphones fall from your head and get tangled in your hair.

"Are you alright?" Your face is wet with tears, and you look at me with big eyes, flushed again from the embarrassment, but that sparkle, that little fucking sparkle just makes me so mad, I'd kill for you to see me like that over and over, your little nose red, your eyelids a bit puffy.

You quickly wipe your tears, "Erm..." You sniffed, and you stared into my face with a cute and educated smile, "No... I mean, yes... sorry, I'm just... I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," You scan my face, the familiarity of it makes a grin spread on your lips, "If I sound like a creep please stop me, but, I think I know you" Your lips curl into a bigger smile, as you realize who I am, I am that man, I am the man who will always be there for you, "You're that guy I fell into the other day" I pretend as if am amazed over who small the world is.

"Hey you," You said to me with a smile.

"Hello you" We both look to our feet, and I feel some warmth creeping up me cheeks, "We gotta stop meetin' like this" I see you flush, looking at me through your lashes, you slowly bite your bottom lip as you brush your hair out of the way, flirty. You struggle to untangle your earphones from your hair, I take a step forward and gently untangle them.

"You just had to come and rescue me again huh? Who are you? Superman?" I hear your voice, and your laughter like a melody I would love to hear over and over again, gentle, a little deep, but beautiful, I can see that behind all of that dark makeup and those dark looks, you're a sweet but lost little girl.

"I'm Batman" You're laughing and blushing at my jokes, that means that you like me.

"I like your accent batman" That's nice to hear, some people say that it sounds too rough and I sound like a scumbag, but I'm glad your ears enjoy the sound of it.

"Thanks, love" You take a step forward, your eyes looking at mine and then at my lips, it's hard to breathe right now.

"What are you doin' so late, huh? Are you wearing your costume?" You tease me, and we begin to walk together, to nowhere, just where we want this conversation to take us.

"Sort of, and you?" You shrugged, what a hard night you had. I'm worried about you, you didn't need to apologize for "not thinking", we kept walking until the smell of food dilated our nose trails.

"Just went for some drinks with a couple of friends nothing too exciting... do you mind if we stop for some food?" My fantasies had become real, you wanted to get some street pizza, the nice old man smiling at you tenderly, he's nice, not creepy, just a nice man, you ask for two slices of pepperoni with Italian sausage and the man is nice enough to give you the most fresh and warm slices of pizza, "Here, it's on me... it's the least I can do"

"Thank you" You chuckled and waved it off, gosh I wish I could just freeze this moment forever.

"I should be thanking you..." You wait to hear my name, and I stay silent contemplating this moment for a second, this is how it starts.

"Alex" You shake hands with me as your tongue, teeth, and lips articulate your name, you have a lovely name, and I'm crazy about you, "Charmed" I hold my gaze at you as you slowly let go of me hand.

"So, what were your plans for the night before I had completely crashed them" Funny, dark jokes, sarcasm, you're really smart but you don't like showing it off, you make me laugh so much, it's clear we have the same humor, that's another reason as to why you're perfect for me and I am for you.

"Um... I thought about going out somewhere, anywhere, sometimes I can't sleep... I'm afraid of losing life by being a slave of me work, me house, everythin' but I found something exciting" You smile to yourself, and you smile at me, you see? We're perfect.

"I do that sometimes... whenever I can't sleep, I go to a bar and you know... try to meet new people, I hate having to post about it on social media though, everyone has their screens glued to their faces, and I just don't like that, I don't wanna breathe my phone, I wanna breathe air" If I were you I would write a whole book about this, I love that you think just like that, we can be people for once, and run around the world and make it ours, "What do you do for a living?"

"Music producer" You smiled at me, "And I have the gift of guessing people's favorite artists,"

"Really? What are mine's?" I have the chance to look at you confidently, I see you like that, I can see how fast your heart is going, how you try to calm it with your breathing, your chest rising and falling fast, as I stare into your eyes intensely making little goosebumps crawl like spiders, I hope you know how much I like you.

"Nancy, Lana... and summat dark like Joy Division Unknown Pleasures" You clap and you're amazed at how exact I am, I can smell it on you.

"Exactly, I love them," You began to hum their songs, dancing on the street, I follow your lead, as you spin, "I was listening to it a few moments ago" You turn dark again, I'm not going to let you, I immediately regret ever saying that, I don't know what that bloody song did to you, but you were listening to it before you attempted to get crashed.

"I'm glad I was there" Sweeten up, tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you.

"Yeah... me too, I wasn't thinking straight..." You clean your throat, you cross your arms, and furrow you're eyebrows, it makes you angry to say it, makes you sad, makes you frustrated, and even so since you watch me patiently waiting for you to tell me what happened to you, I didn't have to say it, you already knew "I don't think you would like to hear about my problems Alex, they're meaningless"

"Nothin' is meaningless just like us meeting tonight perhaps..." Shite, I take it back, I can see your face looking at me weirdly, but you smiled, you're fascinated? Did you like that?

"You're right," You warm up to me, I can see it in your body, I can see it in your face, I've given you no reason to not trust me, I'm harmless, I told you you can trust me, "But I want a ciggy, if you don't mind" You lean against a brick wall, your leg supporting your weight, I'm in love with your smooth and shiny legs, what's your secret?

"Mind if I steal one?" You say no with your head, you check your box again, and you curse in your head. The box has only one cigarette left.

"Sharing it is" You light your cigarette with your pink lighter, I can see some cute puppy stickers on it, you inhale the thick white smoke and exhale it, your whole body relaxing, feeling lighter, you feel calm, and you hand it to me, holding it between your index and your middle, you have a vintage silver rose ring in your middle, cracked red nail polish, and the cigarette butt was stained with your gorgeous red lipstick, I take it in between my lips, your lipstick tastes sweet like marshmallows, I savor it, Jesus, I hope I can taste your pretty lips soon.

"Talk to me," You sigh, and your mouth articulates each phrase, your voice tired and sad, I hear every detail of your story with care, a girl that can't control her alcohol, one that just wants to have fun, one that makes stupid mistakes but learns, I see beauty not only out but inside you, in your mistakes, in your intentions, in your life, you only got one, and you've made noble mistakes, I can see you're a whole woman, a hot and determined woman, but you have no road clear enough, no road to pick, you're chasing something you don't even know what it is.

"So now, I'm just trying to see what happens, I'm getting my degree soon, and then I'll keep working, maybe I'll start something on my own" Maybe if you don't love your work, at least you can come home back to me, I'll cook dinner, I'll wash your clothes, I'll set the table, I'll prep you a warm bath, I'll shower you, you won't move a single finger when you come home to me, "How's working as a music producer?"

"Oh, well, it's great... sometimes we have our differences but most of the time I just do what people tell me to do, in secret I make their music better, sometimes they don't notice and they just brag about how amazing was their idea" Your cigarette burns away into my fingers, I set it off into the wall and discreetly put it inside my pocket, you change the direction, we're going back, you're shamelessly eying me up and down, I swear if you don't stop...

"What are your favorite bands?" You're changing the subject, I don't like that, I don't like that you don't want to talk about what you've told me, but I keep you interested.

"Well... an old-time favorite is The Strokes" I answer firmly, you take out from your purse your earphones, plug them into your phone, and press play on the music as we walk together sharing your music, 'Call It Fate Call It Karma' on full volume.

"Might be basic for you, but I don't see a better song for this moment" You turn to face me, and we stop in the dark corner of the sidewalk, your eyes greedy and precious, that bloody spark in your dark eyes excites me, it's all in your eyes, I can see it clearly, I can see what you want from me, you blink slowly and wait for me to make the next move, and I don't doubt for a second, I close the space between us, and very gently press the palm of my hand to your warm cheek, it's warm and pink, staring into your eyes like stars in the black sky, kissing your lips, sweet as burned marshmallows in a bonfire night, you kiss me so softly at first, but you make that animal inside me come alive, I'm a man, I'm an animal, and I kiss your tender lips hungrily, I didn't expect for you to answer back with the same hunger, you feed me with your kiss, and your breath tastes like ecstasy, I'm a junkie, sweet sweet nicotine, I'm a chain smoker, "Take me home, Alex..."

"I'll take you anywhere you tell me, sweetheart" You grab my hand, fingers intertwined, and I feel 15 again, my palms are sweaty, my sweat is cold, and I feel so warm in my clothes, I can't wait to take them off, the anticipation getting the best of me, you make my dreams come true, and I'm so happy the world had chosen you to fall into my arms. I'm your protector, a guardian angel.

On the way home, we sneak to share some angsty kisses three or more times, you're getting me worked up, letting me touch you, grasping your hips, biting my lip, kissing my cheek, moaning my name into my lips, you're making my head spin. We walk up the stairs together, opening the door to your shelter, you have a lovely house, so clean that some things are allowed to be misplaced, it's big because you don't like having so many things out, your bed is on the other side of the wall were you living area is, the vague familiarity of it makes me feel like I'm imagining it all.

"This my girl cave, my crib" You joke, I take pictures of it in my head from bottom to top, every single inch, every place I imagine us being in, watching tele, cooking together, making a mess of the kitchen of course, dancing, fucking, scratching your wooden countertop, "What do you think?"

"It's-" We both get freaked out by the knocks at your door, some dickhead calling out your name, begging you to open the door, you roll your eyes, you know exactly who he is.

You swing open the door, cross your arms, and stand your ground, marking that he's not welcome here, you're strong, you're determined, go you! Show some teeth, "I don't wanna hear another one of your crazy fucking stories, tell them to your mother, Cameron" You were about to shut the door in his face but he stops it with his foot, that must've hurt Cameron, that's your ex isn't he? The one who made you cry, "Leave" You spit.

"I won't, you can't possibly ask for something like that... you and I know there's no one better than me, no better match than us" You stay silent, why are you thinking? why are you second-guessing? He takes a step forward, he's getting closer, you're face is a frown, you don't want him to touch you even though he keeps trying.

"I don't want you here, you must leave now Cameron, I want you out" He turns into hysteric laughter, he thinks you're crazy, he thinks you've lost your mind, well big shot, you're not it, Cameron only wants to hurt you with his words, he wants to make the most damage, he gets off at this, making you his only real standard, but Cameron will never treat you like you must be treated.

"Don't talk me to like that" I take his aggressiveness as a sign to take a step in, who the fuck does this wanker think he is to talk to you like that? You see that's a real scumbag, and I'll be his worst nightmare.

"Like what?" I come up from the back, cocky, sounding like a total prick, and I can see that you love it, when I sound like this, dominant, confident, "She's telling you to go, I'm telling you to fuck off. Now" I slam my voice at him, there are scary people in this world, there are men like Cameron, he has an intense gaze, but he wouldn't ever pick up a fight for anyone, yes... not even you, he's too vain, a narcissist, he is all bark but no bite, and then there are the men who would move mountains for their loved ones, he steps away, and I shut the door close, I can feel you shivering beneath my skin.

You stare at me, and I drag you in closer, that's what you like... you liked to be treated rough, you like being needed, I push your hips against mine, I can see it in your face, you've felt it, you've felt how hard my cock is, and it's hurting so fucking bad now, I can't wait for another second, I can't wait to take you to bed, you jump on me, wrapping your gorgeous soft legs on me, I decide to leave the first reminder of me on your kitchen table, laying your body on top of the cold wooden countertop for the first reminder of me and the things I'm about to do to you, my knuckles pull down your panties, ripping them off from your skin, your pussy glistening, bathed in your wetness, I can smell your flesh from the distance, like a predator and their victim, I'm a lion, "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart"

"Fuuuckin' please" You moan so loudly I bet it could be heard from across the street, and your voice shivers, I've barely even touched you yet, and you're already so wet for me, what are you thinking about? what's in your mind? I wish I could crack your skull open.

I lower myself in between your legs, I've been so busy admiring your body, the scent of the almond oil you rub on your smooth legs, I bet that you shaved them today, and I wonder what else have you shaved, your dress rides to your hips as you contortion under my touch, Jesus, you're desperate for it, but no, I want to enjoy you.

"Calm the fuck down, lay still and close your eyes" I order, and you stiffen up, staying quiet, and still, "Atta girl", I can finally see what's in between your gorgeous long legs, a pink and small pussy, Jesus, I bet you're so fucking tight by the looks of it, my ring and middle finger begin their assault, pressing down vertically against your clit, you hum and your hips writhe against me fingers, slowly, pushing them, you like that, rubbing yourself against them, and when I see you through the glass I lose my mind, I see how me fingers get coated and damped in your wetness, and I love watching you get so worked up by that, I can feel me cock just getting harder by the second, it's hurting and it's a pulsing pain, but I bare with it just for you, because now I'm going to show you how exactly you're supposed to get fucked.

I spread open your pussy, pink and warm, swollen clit I pinch in between me fingers, and you hiss but you only get wetter, if I pinched for a little longer you were sure coming all over the table. I open me mouth to taste your warm and savory juices, I suck and kiss your clit, picking up with my tongue your wetness, you're going to cum so good, I can feel it building up, you're in for a ride, and you've just begun to climb up the roller coaster.

"Oh... that's soo good" You gasp and sigh, I let my two fingers twist inside your pussy, me knuckles rimming your walls slowly, the bumpy and hard skin of my fingers make you gently fuck yourself into them, while I watch you with my tongue lapping over your clit teasingly, just those gentle touches make your legs shake, and your walls to contract, you're wonderful, you behave well, your hands slowly crawling into me hair, pulling it gently, your little whimpers get me worked up and I have to put in the biggest effort to not palm meself, I want you to feel every inch of me.

"You feel so lovely, babe doll" This feels so right, you bite on my lower lip, pulling my flesh until it bleeds. You're a sucker for my accent, you really are, you enjoy hearing me voice, doesn't it relax you? Doesn't it turn you on? I want to know what it is... I want to feel what it is, your legs keep shaking and your body keeps getting stiffer, your lower abdomen making pressure, and your walls are closing around me fingers, I shake them inside you, your mouth falls open, my lips sucking your clit harder and your body arches until I feel your cunt losing up, feeling your release leaking out of that tiny little hole, I'm eager to taste it, I eat your pussy eagerly, you know I'm hungry for it, my mouth eating your pussy like a soft and warm bun, and you taste just as sweet, just as good as I imagined, I won't let you rest, I will keep you on the limit. I drag you forward, making you kiss me lips, "Do you taste that? Taste how sweet you are... taste how good I ate you"

"And you're gonna fuck me just as good?" Your hand sneaks in between me legs, you love how hard my dick is for you, it makes you feel so thrilled, makes you feel good about yourself, and it makes you feel hot.

"You'll just have to wait a little bit longer, I'm not done with you" I'm certain about something, you're a kinky little shit, and I know you want something like this, I bend you over the kitchen table, and you're just ready for it, arching your back, spreading your legs, you're not putting a fight, my hand kneads your ass like dough, and spanks it hard over and over again, "You precious little thing, are you going to do everything I tell you to do?"

"No" You state firmly, earning another smack in your ass.

"Tell me summat..." I push my hips against your dripping wet cunt, that's oozing for another smack, "How much do you want it?" You sigh, rubbing your ass against my cock, you're killing me, you better stop now, the friction, the warmth, your goddamn smell, "Answer me you fuckin' cunt" You giggle, you do love it.

"I want you so bad" You whisper, no, I don't like that.

"Not enough" The smacks you earn are getting harder to bear, but you enjoy them, and so do I, you masochistic little shit.

"I need you inside me, Alex... I can't wait any longer" You rock your hips against mine, humping your naked pussy against my bulge, "Please..." You whimper so sweetly, I can't handle it any longer, I take off your dress, and you're wearing nothing but your tall black heels, looking like a fuckin' hooker, but I bet that's what you like.

"You want it you fucking slut?" You keep whimpering and rubbing yourself on me jeans, I bet that you've stained them already, "Come here" I turn you around and kiss you deeply, I can feel your hands unbuttoning my shirt as fast as you can, even in the heat of the moment you don't break my shirt but I couldn't care less, I take your hands and make fists ripping it apart and throwing it away, you're even faster to take out my jeans and leaving me on my boxers, that's the one good thing about me, I can see how your eyes lit up as you see how hard me fat cock is for you, you bite your lower lip and I pull you back up from your knees.

Time for reminder number two, the settee, I pull you up, and you sit in my arm until I put you back to the ground gently, I have to let you know that I was here, I need you to know how good I am, no other man could please you like that, I pull your leg up while you hold yourself up with the other, your pussy is so fucking wet my cock slides inside you so easily, I can feel the electric shocks that run all over your body, "Hard, please" You whine, I'm going to show you what hard actually is.

My hips thrust inside you so roughly the settee moves out of place, your nails dig into the cushions as I keep railing your tight hole harder, and you scream like bloody murder, I hope your neighbors don't call the police, I hope they can see how hard you're getting your cunt fucked, I want everyone that walks by to hear you, "You wanted hard babe!" You moan and scream, and keep getting your pussy pounded like meat being beaten up to get it tender. I dig your head into the pillows.

"Don't... d-don't-" Don't what?

"I can't understand you, babe, can you repeat that for me?" You pant trying to catch your breath, and your legs are numbing up, and I can see they've lost some strength, "Do you want me to stop, because I can" As I saw you didn't make a move, I began to pull out but you stopped, digging your nails into my wrist.

"Don't stop for fucks sake" Now for the next one, I stay buried inside you like that, you keep trying to fuck yourself into me cock but I just won't allow it, I pick you up once more, and your legs around my torso, and you press your warm chest against mine, I lean back against the giant bookshelf next to your bedroom door, you hold on into the shelves for leverage while I drive my cock inside you, your pussy feels so tight I wish I could let this last forever, I'll make that pussy mine.

"You want more, babe?" You hum and gasp, yes of course you do, you're loving every single inch of me cock, "God you look so beautiful with your mouth opened like that," I lick your bottom lip, "And that little cunt of yours is so wet for me, you're just making things harder for me..." I pushed meself too hard inside you, the shelf shook, and something hard dropped to the ground but you ignored it, you've lost yourself in my touch, and I feel embarrassed for dropping something. Your inner animal wakes up as I throw you into your bed.

I crawl on top of you but you gather up your strength to flip me over, I didn't expect that, you've taken the lead and I want to see you lose control, you writhe your hips into mine, your eyes facing the roof, and your mouth wide open, your hair falling into your head, you looked possessed, but you had lost the power to think about what you were doing, "For fucks sake" If you keep moving like that, you're going to make this end sooner, and I've already planned everything out, I try to sit up but you hold me down, chocking me so hard that it's almost impossible to breathe for me, but I love that feeling, my head feels light, my vision is blurry, but I'm not going to give in to you, I already have, you have got to give into me.

I flip you over so harshly, your head almost slammed against your headboard, "Listen to me you fuckin' cunt" My harsh tone makes your core shake, "You ain't the one on command, now... I don't wanna repeat meself" It's arousing you, I can feel it in between your legs, you're shamelessly getting wetter, "Don't make me repeat meself again" You love to play with me, I see that naughty little smile curling into your lips.

"You already did" You like to pull on my hair, don't you? And you will pay for that.

"Don't fuck with me" Your eyebrows push together and your little smirk makes me go mad.

"You know I love to" Love? You "love to"? Does this mean that you might love me? Even just a tiny bit?

"You do, huh?" I begin to rock my hips against yours, slowly, passionately, like a slow and steaming dance, I see your fingers grasping the sheets making hard fists, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into" And I'm not lying, you really don't.

"Show me Alex" You whisper to me those three words so sexily, charmingly, I've already lost my mind.

"I'll show you how a real man fucks you, babe," Your oozing with the thrill, "I'll show you how to behave... you little fuckin' cunt" Your mouth opens to moan and I take advantage of it to spit inside your mouth, both my hands chocking you, "You're mine... all mine"

"I'd love to" You whimper, "Make me yours please... please just do, I want you Alex" You keep asking me that with your little weak voice, your body that speaks to me, I can read it so easily, it tells me that I'm doing exactly what you want me to do, it shivers, and it quivers, and it sweats, it screams, it tightens, it stiffens, in your eyes I can feel your fast heartbeat in my fingers, and it goes just as fast as mine, my body against yours sounds like I'm butchering you, your neighbors must think I'm holding a knife against your throat, but it does go as deep, it does penetrate and it hurts you in the most magnificently and pleasingly way, your eyes red shot, and your voice gets quieter, shit, I'm losing you, I am.

"Wake up, wake up!" I scream to you, my hand patting your cheek lightly, your pulse is barely detectable, I slap you across your face and you gain back consciousness in the blink of an eye, I didn't want to do it, I would never do that, but when your lips curl into your devilish smile, I know see how you really are.

"Do that again Al" You tease me, I love it when you call me like that, no one ever really does that anymore, is that my new nickname? Al? You're going to remember me forever babe, I hope you do, and tomorrow when you wake up, I'm still going to be there, I'll make your breakfast, and I'll do anything you ask me to do, even dishes, you won't pick them up.

"You're mad, woman" You giggle, and you try to pick yourself up, I can't let you, I did knock you over completely, my hand very gently caresses your cheeks, it's red and fragile, it must burn or at least sting, "Let me do the kissing for now, babe"

"And the fucking too perhaps?" You smile at me, your cute little button nose is flushed, your cheeks and chest are red, your nipples are hard, it turned you on to this point, you're dark, what else are you not telling me? "I'm crazy about you" Those words will echo in my head for the rest of my days.

I take no rush into fucking you, I'm not just a guy you'll sleep with, I'm your man, and I wanted to make sweet sweet love to you, but you won't let me, you like it rough, hard, fast, I don't want this moment to be over, at least not for me yet, you can cum as many times as you like, and like the real man I am, I am profoundly true to the saying 'Happy wife, happy life'

I hug you close to me, that's the least I can do, if I'm going to lose control, let my heart tell yours how much I love you, even if you dump me like a puppy, I'll stay loyal, I'll follow your scent everywhere, I will forever remember the scent of your vanilla hair, your Dior perfume, and the golden necklace around your neck, I counted 15 moles on your body, even the one in between your legs, my hands grab your hair into fists as I pound you harder and harder, you're losing your mind and I'm losing control again, your bed squeaks so loudly and the headboards slams against the wall so harshly, but I don't stop I can't stop now, I can feel you, I can feel it coming, you bring yourself to an end again, the palm of my hand slowly adds pressure on your lower belly, to ease you up, the bed keeps squeaking so annoyingly, and even after we ignored the several warnings, the legs of your bed broke and your headboard fell to the ground, we both break into laughter.

"Oh God!" Your little laughter is so bubbly and funny, it makes me smile and feel so ashamed at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, I'll pay for that" You rub the tip of your little nose against mine, and look at me tenderly, your fingers caressing the back of my head, if only you could see the hearts in my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous... you know, I've never broken a bed before... you're not going to be easy to forget batman, I hope you don't disappear into the night soon" I'll get you off first, but there's one thing you should be certain of.

"I never intended to" Was that too much? Sorry if that was too much, maybe it was... maybe it wasn't, I'm having a hard time reading your face right now, you're looking at me very seriously, I don't want to get my hopes up, but you're killing me, I should focus now, finish the deed, "But I'm still sorry about your bed though"

"Shut the fuck up, and keep fucking me" Whatever she wants, whatever she wants... You're already the song on the radio I got stuck in me head.

I pull us closer to the safest edge of your bed, toss your legs over me shoulders, and bend them over, I lean over and pound the living shit out of you, I was balls deep inside you, and you like it, so much that you dig your nails into my back, scratching my skin until red and bloody, I don't care how much it hurts, leave as many marks as you want, the deeper the better, my hair falls over my forehead and you make the kindest gesture, your brush it back with your long nails, even if by now I'm sweating like a pig you keep bringing me closer to you, I can feel the light tingles of you breathing in me face, of you biting down on my golden chain making laugh, making me go insane, I keep pushing harder, and you throw your head back, almost letting go of me, but I won't let you, I'll send you to heaven if you want, but don't leave without me.

"Oh, Alex... I'm so close, please..." Your eyeballs turn into beautiful glossy pearls, and you crumble down into pieces as you coat my cock in your warm release, I can feel your walls pushing it out and running down your cozy hole, I stay buried inside you, watching your mouth fall open and choke out your last orgasms, they spin in my head like a tiny little music box, "You're next, Alex... you can't end things like that... you know how much I want it, you already did so much for me" Wait, what are you doing?

Your hands run up my chest, and you massage my shoulders, "You really want me to breed you, you greedy little fuck?" Your hands go down and you massage my balls, Jesus, you really do, I bet you're not even aware of what you're doing to me... or are you?

"Yes Alex, use it... use me" You know exactly what you're doing, I drag my cock out just rimming your walls once again, I better start warming you up, but you don't want that now, you're thinking about me, about what I want, you deserve a little star on your forehead for being so caring, a man and its needs, it's nothing compared to your needs, and I bet you needed someone to get you off correctly.

"You're mine... I want you to say it" I promised to you since the beginning, I won't stop until you're mine, "Are you mine?" I look at you with my big eyes full of hope for you to say it, please tell me now.

"I'm yours Alex" My lips taste your mouth, your tongue dancing with mine. You're made of the sweetest poison

God, I remember that time I was watching through your window, that night you were laying down on your settee, your hand was vigorously and shamelessly rubbing your clit in circles, fucking your little cunt with two fingers, rocking yourself into your touch with the desperate need to rub yourself against something hard, just like you were rubbing yourself against me hard cock. You keep squeezing my balls, your hands sneak into my ass squeezing it gently to keep me going, you love having me right at the edge of ending it all, I can't keep it up for another moment anymore, you're big stary eyes, your little sparkles, your touches, the smell, the noises, you're begging for me cum, I slam my fist next to your head, dragging your body up as I push myself deep inside you and coat your walls in me creamy cum, you're pure bliss as I feel us both coming together, a gorgeous after bliss surrounding us, you have this certain smell, a certain heat, and you're just so beautiful with your cheeks flushed like that.

"Let me clean you up, it's me mess, just lay down" You nod your head, laying gently on your broken bed to not let it crash completely into the ground, you point your finger telling me where the toilet is, and I rush there to grab a few paper towels and clean your skin softly, soothingly, I can feel you relaxing, I can smell my body in yours, the smell of my cologne, your almond oil, and your pheromones. And when I'm done you grab my hand and I can see you thanking me for even that tiny gesture, that's nothing you should be thanking me for, that's the least.

"Now the question is... where are we going to sleep?" We? You want me to sleep here, with you? You're not quicking me out, or at least not yet, this is my chance and I would be lying if I didn't say I was the luckiest man alive.

"Maybe the settee would be a nice place" Your gorgeous olive green settee, corduroy, soft, and marked, I can see you smiling at the space in between your two cushions, I see your giant ivory bookshelf, another mark. I lean forward to pick up what I had dropped when we assaulted the shelf, but it wasn't one of the thousands of vinyl records you've got organized by letter, it's a case... a guitar case. I didn't know that about you. Tonight made me realize that you're a hat full of surprises, the deeper I search the more I find.

"Want some food?... I've got some nuggets and fries... and-" You close your fridge and turn to look at me, "Oh, you know how to play?" I nod my head, trying to stay as noble and humble, you smack your hand into your forehead, "Of course, you do," You sigh and I can hear you whispering to yourself, "Stupid question"

"And do you?" You hum as a yes, interesting, I bet you do, but why do you hide your guitar like that? As if it was buried in this beautiful world with music, colors, words, and meanings.

"I did..." You turn on your air frier and toss some nuggets and fries in there, I'm so happy that you're not like one of those crazy keto girls, you pour us some fresh orange juice as you keep talking to me, "But you know, my mom always told me 'that's just a hobby', and when I moved here I hoped to find some people that wanted to share this fire to try to make some music... but I never managed to, and then I just gave up"

"That's a bit sad, love... you shouldn't have" You lean over the kitchen countertop, amazing reminder, I see you smiling over the edge of your shoulder, but you turn to look at me as you pick up some of our clothes, and then you run into my shirt and you decided to wear it as your sex shirt, you look beautiful, "I mean, being a music producer and making it was hard, but it was even harder to follow something I'm not passionate about" That's what's wrong, you didn't follow your passion, that's what you're missing, "Have you got any songs?" Your face lights up but it quickly slips away, and the redness crawls into your face, What? I'm trying to help you, I want you to be happy with me and with your life.

"I can't accept that" You quickly answered, your head said no but I know you want this, it's served on a silver platter, why can't you let your reserved self accept this?

"Accept what? I haven't said anything, I just asked if you could sing for me... I know you have a lovely voice" You laugh sarcastically at me, leaning over to fetch your guitar, and searching for a notebook on your vinyl shelf.

You sit next to me, legs crossed, guitar on your lap, naked with just my shirt on, your knees holding your notebook as you search for the perfect page for me, you make sure that your guitar is tuned before you start and your thumb softly strums down the notes, making a lovely rhythm, and only two chords, C and Em, your voice sounds like a million angels, and I feel like a lost man after serving the purgatory, your voice is so hauntingly beautiful, your lyrics are very forward, and I'm happy to know through your lyrics how truly you feel about things, you don't search for big words you choose the right ones, you're bold, and you're wise, you try to put an end to your complicated feelings, your questions, everything, all in one song with a few strums and two simple chords.

"That's all," You say putting your guitar next to you, I'm blown away, "I know I suck"

"No!" I answer immediately, "You don't... I think it's beautiful"

"You're just saying that because..." No, I'm not just saying that because I want to fuck you, no not at all, don't you ever believe that.

"I'm saying that because I think you've got it, and you don't want to quit everything to live your dream, I know it must be difficult... but I'm being truthful, you've got summat and we can work on it" Why do you keep saying no with your head? Stop that, if I could rip it off right now... no, don't think that, "Come on, I'm not takin' a piss" You break into laughter with me, throwing your head back, you jump up the moment your oven dings and you run to flip the nuggets and the fries, putting 10 more minutes into the oven.

"Takin' a piss" You laugh to yourself, "Well, if you're not takin' a piss" You imitate my accent and it sounds so silly when you try to do it, "I'm not accepting your help Alex, you have your own thing, and if I'm going to do this, I have to do it on my own," Perfect, I'll take that.

"Why don't you go to Panda's next Saturday? They're looking for some people to play some music, any style, any theme, you can do whatever you want... I'm sure everyone will love you, and you know, there's always someone on the hunt for summat fresh!" I see you thinking about it, I'm not saying I'll help you, I'm just offering the start of something great for you, this is it for you. And yes, I am going to get you the best deal you could ever imagine, but first I have to run things through your notebook, I secretly hide your baby pink notebook, your initials written with a black sharpie, and I stash it in between the cushions.

"I'll think about it" I'll think about it. I hope you do go, I can't wait to see you singing for everyone, you will charm them, "Dinner is served me lord" You're also a dork, just like me, imagine all of the jokes we can make together, they'll be endless.

"My! Thank you, very kind" Dinousor nuggets with a side of fries, the melancholic feeling of your childhood must be present every single day, you squeeze some Ketchup into my plate, squirting into my chest.

"Whoops! Let me clean that for you" You lean in, sticking out your tongue to lick off the ketchup from my chest, "Eat up!" I'm in love with you, "And then we'll get on with that" You look down, and I do the same, shite, look what you do to me, you make me get so hard like a little boy hitting puberty.

"Bugger" I whisper under my breath, you heard it since you giggled, "You know, I think the food can wait right?" You push your plate away and you immediately crawl on top of me, kissing my lips so tenderly, caressing my chin with your fingers, and enjoying the texture of the little hairs that are growing on me cheeks.

"Mmm ketchup" You laugh into the kiss, and our teeth collide accidentally, and us by casualty, "You taste yummy"

"Imagine yourself" You blush hard, something tells me no one has ever made you feel that good about yourself, and that's because no one will see you with the same eyes as me, you're my girl, you will be, I try to flip you but instead you stop me, have I done something wrong?

"We're not going to break this couch, I love this fucking couch, you understand that?" You firmly said, your eyes threatening to kill me if I do as such, "I'm on top" I squeeze your ass tightly biting my bottom lip.

"Whatever she wants... but if I broke the bed it's 90% your fault," You scoffed and laughed as I peeled my shirt from your body gently, making sure I don't break more buttons so you could keep it, "Because you feel so good, and maybe you could be on top, but I know sooner or later... you'll be the one giving into me" Quite intense, wasn't I? Fuck!

"But for now, it's me who calls the shots, so if we break this... it will be 98% your fault, how do you like me now, smarty?" You secure your arms around my shoulder, I pull you in, chest on chest, as I give myself a few more strokes before you slowly slide down my cock, moaning so gently, I like feeling every part of you, I can see how your body twists and shivers when I hit that sweet spot.

"How do you like that?" I rub it in your face, how good I'm making you feel, "I guess one round just wasn't quite enough for you," You start humping on my cock slowly, you're just teasing me again, but I enjoy feeling your body move against mine, your little cries and moans, everything piles up in me, I know this time I'll enjoy you, picture you going in slow motion, I can feel your rapid heartbeat, I can feel the heat wave that raises and wrap us in, I can feel your body begging to mine to stay as close as possible, because that's what your body and my body want, we smile, we laugh, and I fall deeper in a hole full of love for you, and I'm no donkey to use the dirt to get out, I rather stay buried deep inside you just like now. Your body is tired, it's been two hours since your legs worked for the last time, and you beg for more into my ear.

"You're so good, I-I don't understand" What don't you understand, babe? Your fingers intertwine in the back of my head, as you writhe your hips to mine, our bodies dancing together so wonderfully, your hips move in circles against mine.

"Neither of those assholes could ever come close to me, I'm a real man..."

"And you've got the size" You flirt with me so shamelessly, your walls keep dragging me in, your head falls into my shoulder, you're giving into me, fading into me, and it's me time now, I finally get to give you what I wanted since the beginning, make sweet and honest love to you, my hands on your thighs I keep driving your body against mine, I gently bounce you on me lap just to get you to stay up again, you're eyes are shutting, your mouth is falling open again.

"Look at me" I order, and you do what I tell you to do, you look at me towards your end, I hope you can read it in my eyes, I hope you can feel how warm the flesh is, how my eyes, my brain, and heart have no space for anyone else but you, how mad you've made me, I'm obsessed, and I'm not going to lie to myself about it anymore, I don't want to just use you, I hope you can see that, but if you can't, I hope this is enough for you to understand it, my eyes big and dilated for you, my body feels so stiff, it's overwhelming, "You're so beautiful, love"

"If you keep calling me that, you're gonna make me fall in love, Alex"

So I'll say it every single day for the rest of my life, you feel so good on me, your body fits into mine so perfectly, and I'm so close, and so are you, the flesh is tender, the flowers bloom, the sun rises and it's heat rains all over the world, and you and I bond together for one last time before your body crashes into mine, I make a mess, but that's a bit on purpose, "Ah, yes" You sigh into my ear as you let it rest on top of mine. I have the chance to clean your body once more, to clean you up with care and love, my touch is so gentle your body fills with goosebumps, "You really don't have to Alex" You put your hand on my hand, and I freeze, should I stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?

"Sorry... if I'm doing too much" Your eyebrows push together and before I can get away you drag me back by my wrist and smile at me. What do you think of me?

"No, I'm just..." You sigh, you're troubled by your thoughts, "Not used to the 'aftercare' part that's all, you know, sex for us girls... it's not like we see it in films, or read in books, maybe I don't have that magic to turn a beast into a prince, and... I just I dunno, I don't feel weird... you make me feel special, normally, they just leave" Are you... maybe falling for me?

I smile at you, my thumb grazes your cheek softly, "I'm a man, and I'm messy but I just don't like doing that there's an attraction, and if we have sex, unless you ask me to leave I'll leave" I put away the paper towels in the trash, and when I come back I find you waiting for me with my shirt on your body.

"Well, if that's the case" My heart pumps one thousand miles per hour, I feel I'm entering a trance, about to puke my intestines out if you ask me to leave, "You don't mind staying?"

Fuck yeah! "Not at all" I try to keep me cool but I just can't, my heart betraying as I lay down with you.

After we finally had the chance to close our eyes, the sun peeks through the curtains of your windows, the sky painted orange and ocean blue, you smile at me, and you get back up from our little love nest that was the settee, you're quick to find the vinyl with the song we were listening together, the song we kissed to, the perfect song to watch the sunrise.

"Come with me!" I've never heard you so excited before, you run to the kitchen and fetch my boxers from the ground, and I'm a bit troubled by the thought of me wearing my jeans with no underwear but I do nevertheless because I would kill to see you like that every single day.

I cover my body with my coat, and you grab my hand, we run out of your house, and we go through this tiny little white gate, into a garden covered in green chasmophyte, that's the place where the flowers bloom in little boxes of dirt, the perfect place to see the sun, the perfect place to hide, to dream in, it's wonderful, you pull out a chair for me in this old rusty table, you find place to put your music and we listen to Call It Fate Call It Karma as the sun rises from the horizon, I pull you to my lap, wrapping your legs around my arms and hum the song to your ear, the birds are chirping, and the sun warms us from the once oh so cold night.

"You're a lovely singer," You say to my ear, I was never one to watch sunrises, I haven't done that since I was 17, and now with my busy life, I finally get to taste this little piece of paradise that you've given me.

"Not as good as you, bunny" You kiss my nose with a big smile, and I take out from my jeans a box of cigarettes and my old zippo, you set on my smoke, and you love to play with my zippo as your hands run through my naked skin, you love playing with fire, don't you? I just hope someday, you don't get burned in the fire of my love.

A/N

Anon, I want to kiss you. You don't know for how long I've been trying to figure out how to write this chapter, I had to watch You again but it was totally worth it, so thank you!

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

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The Side You See

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Nobody ever understood how somebody like you could be with somebody like Rafe. I mean, come on, you two were polar opposites. But when everyone else would disappear, and it was just the two of you left, he was every bit a new person - a side of himself that he would show when it was only your eyes that could see him.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol use, some sexual hints if you really squint, drunk and hungover Rafe

Author’s Note: Thank you SO SO much for the love on my last couple of posts, I was so sure nobody would be bothered if I started posting again but you guys have exceeded every single expectation I had. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, I can’t wait to be writing more for you lovely bunch <3

(Also, please let me know if you want me to start up a taglist again on my posts if you’d like me to tag you in future work)

The party was winding down from full swing, bodies spilling into every room of the house, music pounding and drinks flowing. That was something people always guaranteed when Rafe hosted a party - nobody would be going home bored, and barely anybody would be going home sober. He made exceptions for you, and really only you. You’d never been much of a drinker, beyond a glass of champagne at a family wedding, and that’s one of the reasons why it surprised people so much when you were the one Rafe went after - the one he fell in love with. You were like polar opposites from what people could see - you sipped a red cup of lemonade, and he sniffed another line. But the thing about those differences, was that Rafe had learnt his limits when he had started dating you. He could still get drunk, get high, do anything he wanted to at a party, but he was never as bad as he used to be. This was his vice, the parties, the drugs, the drink, it was a release for him away from the stress of dealing with everything his family threw at him. You knew he had his troubles, everyone knew that, but this didn’t seem like much of a big one in comparison to everything else.

“Hey baby!” His familiar deep voice calls out to you, soon accompanied by his arm slinking around your waist.

You knew he was drunk when he started calling you pet names in front of other people. They all looked at him like he was no longer himself.

“Having fun?” You laugh, feeling him drop more of his weight onto you as you wrap an arm around him to steady him more before an inevitable fall.

He hums, dipping his head to bury into your neck. Since the two of you started dating, he had become the clingiest drunk you’d ever known. Not that you were complaining all that much. Though it still took everyone by surprise when he was so public in his affections - the heartless Rafe showing a heart??

“I’ve missed you,” He mutters into your neck, kissing the soft skin there.

“Rafe, we’ve been at the same party all night,” You roll your eyes, turning so that he can wrap both arms around you, your chests bumping together.

“You look hot,” He whispers the words, his eyes scanning over you like he still didn’t believe he was the one that got to tell you that every day.

You were wearing a cropped tank top and shorts, with one of his big shirts open over it all, so long that it grazed the middle of your thighs. He loved when you wore his clothes, a possessive trait he’d never lose - in the best way possible.

“Rafe, honey, how much have you had?” You ask him, dragging a hand through his growing hair, trying to force his eyes onto you.

He squints for a prolonged moment like he’s trying to focus on you, “I can’t remember.”

It was late by now, and he’d been drinking since dinner with Topper, and you were sure he was getting to be more and more of a lightweight.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You offer, running your hand down his arm, where the curves of his biceps clung to his shirt.

He grins, clearly impressed by your suggestion, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before turning around. Only then does he start shouting at the dispersing crowd to leave, swinging his arms around, taking cups out of peoples’ hands. They all inevitably oblige, because this was Rafe; you’d be stupid to not listen to him.

Eventually, only the two of you remain as Topper and Kelce shout a slurred goodbye and something about wrapping it up, before they both walk off in the same direction.

“Just us,” Rafe mumbles, stumbling in his steps as he walks back over to you on the porch.

You laugh, “Babe, do you need to be sick?”

He shushes you, flopping down onto the couch along one side of the wooden fence.

“You don’t want to sleep out here,” You roll your eyes at him, crouching down to his head height.

“But its so comfy,” He slurs, eyes closed and lips parting.

“Rafe?”

Your only response is a soft snore from his parted lips, rumbling in the air between the two of you. You pull the throw from the back of the couch and drape it over him, taking one of the empty plant pots and setting it in front of him in case his stomach eventually rejected everything he’d put into his body, and you go back into the empty house to curl up on the sofa. Close enough that you could still see him.

~~~

In the morning, you’re up when the sun is and Rafe is still flat out snoring on the porch sofa. He’s on his stomach with his hair spraying in different directions, his head on its side and his eyes flickering every so often in his slumber. You potter around the house clearing up the remaining mess left over from the party. There are enough red cups to fill up two full bin bags, clattering around the plastic with the beer bottles and cans. Once the lounge and kitchen are completely cleared, you go outside onto the porch and start picking up the bottles left out there too.

Rafe groans and shifts a little on the couch, his arm falling off of the cushion and dropping, his hand hitting the floor. It forces his eyes open, but they are slow and reluctant to do so.

“Morning, handsome,” You laugh, seeing the delirious confusion washing his face, clearly not sure where he was and with no idea as to how they’d got there.

Rafe grumbles, trying to move on the couch and coming to terms with where he was, “What happened?”

You stop putting the bottles into the bag and set it down, “Well, the bed felt a bit too far away last night, so you slept here.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms trying to push himself up, “Where did you sleep?”

“On the sofa,” You respond, your words much clearer than his.

“What?” Rafe had a thing about that, he didn’t like the idea of you sleeping on your own because he knew you never slept well.

He sits up against the back of the sofa and drags a hand over his face as if trying to clear the fuzzy feeling away from his head.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve been bad last night,” He shakes his head, “I can’t even remember what I had.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, “You weren’t bad, but your friends will probably have something to say about what you were saying to me.”

He groans again and stretches out his arms, “Cm’ere.”

“Let me just finish cleaning up,” You comment, throwing a few more bottles in the bag.

“That can wait,” He tugs at his shirt you’d been wearing, now buttoned up around you with nothing underneath.

You stumble over and he catches you in his arms, pulling you into his chest.

“Hi,” Rafe mumbles, burying his nose into your neck and breathing in the lingering smell of your perfume.

“How are you feeling?” You ask him, shifting your legs to either side of his thighs so that you straddled his hips.

“Like I need to sleep for another ten hours,” He says, shifting his arms around you so that they held you impossibly closer.

“You can go back to sleep, we haven’t got any plans today,” You nod, dragging hands through his hair to fix the curtains into place, “I haven’t got much left to clean up.”

“I don’t think you understood me,” He comments, shifting his weight before dropping back down onto the couch, with you now laying on top of him, “If I’m staying, you’re staying.”

You laugh and push yourself up on your hands, towering over his form. His features seem softer in the mornings, especially when he was hungover. His eyes are just a little shut, still adjusting to the light, his lips soft, his jaw lacking the tension that he normally held. You run your hand over his cheek, tracing his cheekbones down towards his jawline. Rafe tilts his head into your touch, tilting his head eventually and kissing softly at your fingertips.

“Can we just stay like this?” He hums, lifting one hand away from your waist to move it up and lace his fingers with yours, playing with the contact of your hand in his.

“Forever or just for today?”

He narrows his eyes, “I can’t see any reason we’d have to move.”

You laugh and press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Then we’ll stay.”

If his friends, or anyone on the island for that matter, saw him like this, they would think Rafe had a twin that they’d never met. They’d think that surely, Rafe Cameron didn’t wake up and cuddle his girlfriend and tell her he didn’t want to leave and kiss her with the softest touch. But this was him. This was every bit of the boyfriend you fell in love with, and continued to fall in love with a little more every morning.

“I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” He’s half asleep, his eyes just closing, but he wouldn’t go to sleep without saying it this time.

“I love you too Rafe Cameron.”

His hands snake back low around your waist, gripping you tight against him and you let your head fall down onto his chest, listening to the slow drumming of his heartbeat. His legs find their way to tangle into yours and his breaths even out into sleep once more. In those moments, he was nothing but yours. And that’s how you wanted to stay.

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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Five (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: This is SO VERY ANGST. More angst than any other chapter so far. STRAP IN GIRLIES (GN). I'd love it if you feel like sharing what you think - your feedback means the world to me. ILY :-* Reblogs, comments, and asks are literal power-ups in my day and I appreciate every single one!

Word count: 8.3k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You’re spiralling.

You’re pissed off and you’re hurt and you’re somehow still horny as hell (somehow, perhaps even more horny since Santiago helped you out in that very particular way of his). You feel all in a tizz, like you don’t know which way is up; but even so, you’re pretty sure you’ve simply been going around in circles, and it’s dizzying. Santiago makes it easy to do that when you follow his lead, after all – all the more reason that you’d had to get out finally, all those months ago.

Safe to say, you’re a little bit worked up. Too many thoughts are racing through your head. Resentment that he could get you all riled up like that, have you come undone, and then straight up deny you. Like it was some power play all along and that all he wanted was the satisfaction. On the other hand, a dreadful longing spikes at the thought that maybe he really did just want to protect himself, because he wouldn’t know how to find his way out this time if he got lost in you all over again.

The main thing you’re feeling though – a bitter shard of pain stabbing through any sense of pleasure you may be left with - is a singular fear.

What if he really doesn’t want you anymore?

He wants you, yes, on some level. His admissions in the kitchen about wanting to kiss you confirmed that much. But his desire for you had always felt like an unstoppable force. Like something he couldn’t help or hope to control. Like a raging fire. He had told you that he loved you, wanted you, needed you, all those months ago. And while you are sure that remains true at least in part, you are terrified that all you leaving had achieved was to teach him how to live without you. And, contrary to that, his touch had simply confirmed how hopelessly consumed by him you still are, all your progress - moving on and rebuilding and forgetting - unravelled in mere moments by his fingers.

You resent that too. His power over you, when you always prided yourself on being strong – needing no-one. You have never liked to feel like the one who is compromised, in any situation. You always prefer to be the hunter as, that way, you’re not the one who gets hurt. But Santiago? Santiago is lethal, and he has always known your weak spots.

Maybe that’s why you had stormed angrily to your room, subduing your heavy footsteps reluctantly, only for the sake of your dear buddies sleeping soundly in their beds. Maybe that’s why you had hastily cleaned up, throwing on some fresh clothes from your case – a low cut top and some obscenely tight jeans. A splash of perfume. Some lipstick. All in the hopes of heading out to the local bar and searching for the kind of late-night attention which feels in your control. Seeking a desire which feels manageable. Trivial almost, instead of the kind which burns.

Part of you – a small part of you, at least - recognises you’re being ridiculous, irrational, reactive, even as you zip on your boots. But there is another part of you that simply can’t stay here in this house with him a moment longer, feeling like he doesn’t want you the way you want him.

You feel like, while you’ve been breaking apart for all these months, he was healing. It’s cruel maybe, that you would wish for his desire to burn him as much as it has a hold over you – but perhaps you’re not perfect. Perhaps you’re only human.

Whatever. It doesn’t all need to make sense right now. Your head’s all over the place. You’re not really thinking straight at all. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream or get your brains fucked out (or maybe all of the above - not in that order). And so, you’re definitely not thinking when you throw open the door to the bathroom, recalling that you’d left your necklace on the counter. If you were -thinking- perhaps you would have heard the rushing of the water. Perhaps you would have heard the muffled, bitten back groans emanating from the shower cubicle.

Fuck.

If you weren’t thinking straight before, every thought falls right out of your head altogether when you swing open that door. Namely, when you see Santiago, his body slanted into the wall as he palms his thick, straining length in something of a frenzy.

You should retreat, probably. In fact, yeah. That's exactly what you should do. But, the sight of him there arrests you, and you can’t help but devour every detail of him. Your eyes skim over him only fleetingly, and yet your memory of his body fills in the gaps, meaning you’re able to see far more of him than you could otherwise in the split second your eyes rove over him.

He is stripped down, his body curled into the tiled wall, his forehead and one shoulder bracing himself as the stream of water thunders down on the back of his neck and his broad, lightly muscled shoulders.

His thighs are slightly spread and his full glutes are clenching as he fucks his hard, veined cock into the circle of his left hand, squeezing tight and showing no mercy, his pace relentless.

From the way his nipples are pebbled and the way you observe the tightness of the muscles coiling in his back, you can guess that the water is cold. Perhaps, that he had attempted to cool off after what had happened downstairs, seemingly to no avail. His need is heavy and urgent and burdening his hand, the veins popping in his slick forearm as water sluices over every contour of him and still, his want is evidently raging.

The most important detail of all, however, is that his eyes are closed, droplets of water beading in his long lashes, and a wracked moan sounding from around his own fingers as he shoves them over his tongue.

Fuck.

He’s licking them clean. He’s tasting you. Tasting your juices from his fingers and pumping himself raw from the thought of it.

Holy shit.

He wants you.

You see it now, clear as day. He wants you to the point of desperation. Helplessness. To the point of coming undone with his need for you. His want rages even beneath the stream of a cold shower, taken in hopes of subduing himself. He works himself urgently in his fist, in hopes of finding his release. You find him here, like this.

Unfinished.

You can see it much more clearly now. You see how he wants you. You see what you do to him. What you still do to him.

You see now that saying no to you likely took every scrap of control he had, and now that is gone, there is nothing left for him but you.

As you enter, Santiago hears the door creak open – you weren’t exactly sneaking- and he immediately tilts his body to the wall. It’s automatic - showing his ass rather than his dick in his hand, likely in case one of the boys had just walked in on him. But, when he sees it’s you stood there, all slack-jawed and honey-eyed, he foregoes the need to hide. He turns towards you instead, his length twitching as it grows even more rigid and more ruddy at the sight of you. Santiago’s eyes hooded and desolate with want as he looks you up and down in your ridiculous, come-fuck-me clothes.

Santiago knows fine well that you only wear red when you want to be shown a good time. You feel like a flare, on display, and maybe you’d feel stupid -like scrubbing this red paint from your mouth – if his need was not blatantly on display too. If his predicament did not seem even more dire than yours.

Finally, though, as you look and he lets you, you register the intrusion, and with a series of stunted vowel noises which barely make it past your teeth, you are dragging your eyes away from his. Your legs like jelly and skin flushed beneath your tight clothes, you are clasping the door handle and turning on your heel. Your only objective is to make it out of there, even if you turn to vapour in the hallway after the fact.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Santiago asks gruffly, and you are not sure what he means. Not sure whether he means to ask where you’re headed out to so late, or to inquire why in the hell you’re leaving the room now that you’re here, but God, you’re not sure anymore that you could answer either question in any way that would make the slightest bit of sense.

You’re just not thinking straight. Can you be blamed? Look at him. Look at this, all for you.

So, you freeze, breath held in your lungs as you grip the handle – your back to him, and about to swing the door open to hasten your exit. Instead, though, against every shred of good sense you have, you push the door closed, ever so gently, with you still on the inside. You turn, preposterously slowly back towards him, and when the sight of him stood there, wet and dripping, face all stern and languidly palming himself in the circle of his hand hits you, you flatten your back to the panelled door. Truth is, your legs feel so weak that you could barely stand without it.

And, as if that wasn’t quite answer enough, Santiago continues to look at you insistently.

Well? The quirk of his thick brow seems to enquire. Where the fuck are you going?

Your voice comes out all breath. “Nowhere.”

You’re going fucking nowhere, apparently. Only ever around and around in circles with Santiago “Pope” Garcia – but suddenly, you could care less.

Your eyes lock then, and it takes less than moments for him to be on you, his wet hands fisting everywhere - in your hair and your clothes - and dragging your mouth onto his in a sudden, consuming crush. Your hands snake into his hair, squeezing cool shocks down your forearms as you wring rivulets of water from his grizzled curls, grabbing handfuls of the length at his crown to pull him deeper into you, his tongue hot and supple and buried in your mouth. Your top sticks to you, wet and sodden in all the places he has grabbed up handfuls of your flesh, or pressed his hot body flush against you.

He drives you back, into the door and the awkward mess of towels hanging there on hooks.

“Fuck,” he bites off into your mouth, and you surge forward with this barrelling want, walking him backward and slamming him against the cool tiles with a thwap and enough force that he grunts. Still, it barely slows him down at all, his hands all over you and his kisses still devouring, ripping the air from your mouth.

There is no romance in this, you think. Only need, raw and animal, and you are surprised that you show enough restraint not to tear each other down to the floor and go at it right on the tiles. Still, you barely show any more restraint than that.

“Shit. Fuck. Turn around. Turn around,” Santiago rasps, entirely wrecked already, barely able to get the words past his mouth. His cock looks almost painfully hard, and entirely insistent against your ass as he spins you and roughly bends you over the counter, pots of toothbrushes knocked into the sink and soap rolling who knows who cares where.

“You want this?” he asks as he presses you into position, little precision or ceremony in it – just a rough, raw urgency, entirely untamed.

You can see yourself reflected in the mirror above the sink, blurry and steamy and bent over, and that’s exactly how it feels. Everything; blurry and steamy and close and tight. He’s as hard as the cool marble surface digging painfully into your hips, and you’re as hot as steam and as wet and slick as this mirror and you’re melding into one another – not single bodies anymore but shapes and a mood and a feeling, and there is nothing else.

“Princesa?” Santiago pleads, even as he tugs your jeans down over your ass, removing the bare minimum of clothing to give him access where he needs, the garment still tight and unforgiving around your thighs, not allowing you to move - barely at all. “You need me?”

“Yes. Fuck me. Need you,” you beg, and you hear him spit unceremoniously into his hand -not that he’d need it- and slather it all over his length, groaning as he makes contact with his sensitive, needy dick as though he might spill over his knuckles with the anticipation of stuffing you full alone.

Still, he holds on -by a thread – and your eyes roll back into your head as you finally feel the blunt tip of him notch clumsily at your need-swollen entrance.

Then – ohhhhhh- then, there is the dull ache shortly after as the girth of him pushes through your wanting folds. You grunt at the initial stretch as he works himself inside of you, but pinned between the counter and his surging hips there is nowhere for you to go, and his need sinks into you inch by inch until he fills you all the way.

You succumb to your ragged breaths and mewl for him, you arms practically giving way beneath you as you press them into the cool surface to keep you standing. He fills you, and God, you’ve missed this. Have missed how full you feel with him inside of you - in every sense of the word. The way his hands grip your hips in that specific spot he likes.

You have missed his girth. Could swear you can feel every inch of him pressing outward against the tight grip of your heat as he fucks his cock into your hole, bottoming out with a delicious, wracked, stuttering moan, the sound alone causing pleasure to bloom around the drag of him deep inside you.

Still, despite this fullness - you also feel the give of your walls to him, your slick and eager heat actively suckering him in. He stutters his hips as you clamp tightly around him and then, so help you, he finally begins to move.

Jesus, this feels even better than his fingers, even better than you remember, and you relish every moment as he fucks into you, bareback and desperate, your pleasure coiling up impossibly quick as the straining mass of him works you open, hitting all of your sweet spots. Your legs tremble beneath you with adrenaline and want, and you feel Santiago’s thighs flush against the back of your legs, his hips snapping against the cushion of your ass as the counter edge bites painfully into your hinged hips.

He's not taking his time with you. Not teasing or planning or thinking. You can tell by the undone grunts and groans he’s submitting to you already, that -for once- he is far too consumed by his own need to contemplate yours. Can tell by the sloppy pace of his thrusts and the lack of attention to your clit or your breasts or anything else but filling you - his hands fisting in the meat of your hips as he takes what he needs, gives what you crave – that he’s not even trying to make you come… but goddamn it if he isn’t going to get you there all the same.

Soon too.

God, the head of him is rubbing exactly where you need, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this good with a dick inside you. Your cunt is primed for him, still sensitive from where his fingers fucked you open and it isn’t going to take you long at all to reach your peak.

Even without seeing him properly, in the misted-up mirror, you can tell that Santiago is going feral behind you. Filling you deeply and haphazardly, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin.

You hear a snarl, and see a pearly flash of teeth as his lip curls up from how good you’re making him feel.

“Fuucckk,” he groans, his head tipped back now, that pretty chin pointing up to the sky and his mouth dropping open – you can vaguely see in the mirror

His broad hand smooths firmly down the middle of your back and over your ass - grabbing handfuls of you- before he retraces his path, sliding his hand up between your shoulder blades and winding his hand in your hair, grabbing and pulling until your spine is curled back for him like a bow, your ass arced up and allowing him a deeper angle of penetration which sends tingles all the way to the tips of your toes when he hits just right.

You practically yowl for him, your whole body trembling and shaking, sweat trickling down the centre of your cleavage as the layers you did not have time to dispense of overheat your skin. As your clit is nudged into the lip of the counter in a way that shouldn’t work for you, probably, but totally does, the intermittent slap of Santiago’s hips against you providing a pleasing rhythm.

It’s uncomfortable, and hot, and cramped, and in some ways painful to be rammed up against the surface like this, but you wouldn’t tell him to stop for the world. You wouldn’t tell him to stop because the way he’s taking you feels divine, Santiago burying his want for you as deep as it will go, releasing his punctuated, abortive gusts of breath in time with his thrusts.

You feel drips land on the small of your back, and whether its water cascading from his dampened curls or beads of sweat from the exertion rolling down his temples you do not know or care.

You only know that you want more.

Determined as ever, you plant your hands firmly on the counter as he fucks you near boneless, driving through your hips until you meet his thrusts, working him up higher, finding the angle which hits just right and-

“Unnnngggg.” A whimper falls from his pretty mouth and his thrusts are suddenly far more shallow, slow, nudging against your nervy, sensitive entrance. His breaths are coming in deeper, heavy gusts now and you might be afraid that he was about to stop - if you weren’t so sure that he was, in fact, gearing up.

“Santiago,” you complain as he blunts the sharp edge of your precipice with the break in rhythm. You urge him to give you more, and he uncurls his fingers from your hair and adjusts position.

Obligingly, he wraps his stronger arm around your chest to guide you closer to standing, pressing his chest to your back, his head hooking over your shoulder. And, with his other arm, he reaches forward towards the steamed mirror, using his palm to clear a window from the condensation.

“I wanna see you,” he rasps, a hoarse, gritty whisper in the shell of your ear. “Wanna watch you.”

God, it’s too much. The way his arm is wrapped around your front, strong and yet tender as his forearm braces across your chest and his fingers dance tenderly over your jaw. The wracked, undone voice of him, whisper soft. The contrast between this and the certainty of his thrusts as he finds a new rhythm. As you find a new rhythm together, entirely in sync.

Slowly, so slowly, he draws out of you, ensuring you can feel every single inch of him, the tantalising drag of him through your folds making your quiver. Then, he snaps back into you all at once, so suddenly shoving himself up into you, balls slapping against your ass, each repetition of this pattern building you up. God, you want him to spill himself inside you, and you think vaguely that it is the only thing which could quench you.

It is your undoing when his eyes find yours in the mirror, and this all becomes real. No longer fantasy like your unreliable recollections of him all these months. No longer shapeless, tangled, blurry bodies, but now so very suddenly, you are looking at you and him, with all that means.

The look in his eyes gives form to this act, as though the love settled in them is the very thing giving form to the way he fills you. He is at once stern - his brow burdened, heavy-lidded with need, his eyes sunk into a pit of desire - yet soft. His strong nose is crushed up against you as his lips caress your neck. His eyes dance over your face, taking you in as you languish up against him.

His eyes are molten when they find you again, dancing with a soft, subtle heat not unlike firelight, long lashes fluttering in disbelief at the sight of you. At the feel of you wrapped around him. No longer just a body or some carnal need, shapeless and intangible.

Instead, Santiago and you, and your bodies moving as one.

His soft lips and rasp of stubble break from the column of your neck as his thrusts become sloppy, and you feel his hot breaths come thick and fast against your skin now.

He missed you.

He missed you, and this is what he’d meant. Had meant he needed to feel you wrapped around his dick. Moaning his name. Needed to see you being his. Missed you being his. God, you missed that too, in so many ways.

A moan rips through you as you approach your peak, and you plead profusely with him.

“Don’t stop. Santi. Please.”

You don’t ever want him to stop.

As you clamp down on him, your fluttering core wrings his own orgasm from him too, and then he’s pulsing his load into you, thick and warm and abundant, his thighs quaking against yours and his arms gripping on to you more tightly – this time for purchase – as though this might be the time his knees finally buckle if he doesn’t hold on to you.

You can feel his racing heartbeat hammer from his chest to yours as he holds you flush to him. Can feel his mouth suck at the column of your neck, his tongue sliding along your pulse point and tasting your perfume.

You come down from your high, thrumming with it. Wet and messy between your legs as Santi drags his softening dick out of you, letting your juices and his seed slip down your inner thighs.

You feel good. Blissed out. But, as ever, with you and Santiago, there’s always a catch. The joy is immense, but, guaranteed that one of you - if not both - will find a way to ensure it is short-lived.

Indeed. All too soon, you begin to feel that creeping sense of regret hollow-out your stomach.

You can see it on his face too. The uncertainty. The lack of understanding of what this all means. About what to do next. It is evident from the way he so quickly moves away from you, picking up his shorts and t-shirt and covering up his body. Similarly, you hike up your jeans without even cleaning up, and as much as you might have hoped for a joyful, intimate moment, you know that it’s already too late for that. The moment that the insecurity, doubt and uncertainty had crept in on each of your faces it had become self-reinforcing. A spiral. Running in circles.

“Shit,” you sound out, in a clear peal of regret, planting a hand over your face in distress - despite everything.

“Sounds about right,” Santiago agrees in a monotone, brows drawn down and his gaze fixing on a spot of tile, unable to look you in the eye, despite having been buried inside you only moments ago.

“No,” you stress, bringing a second hand to your face. There’s something else. Something that makes you feel stupid and sick. “I…. I mean, shit. I changed my birth control up and I… I mean we…” Santiago snaps his eyes back up to you now, alright. You curse when you note the writhing of his taut jaw, set and a little annoyed. Your softly puffed expletive which follows is contrite, but it doesn’t help.

It’s not like you -or him- to make a mistake like that. And yet, you had all the same.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You bristle at his harsh, accusatory tone. How quickly things sour. “It’s not like you checked!” It is his turn to bristle now, and so you opt to be harsher still. “Besides, I didn’t exactly think you were going to be quite so quick on the trigger, Santi.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his riposte about his stamina not even required. He got you off, didn’t he? So, your attempted distraction is futile, as he manages to stay alarmingly on topic. You fold your arms across your chest as he steps towards you, feeling on the back-foot as his flattened palm nags through the air to punctuate his words. “It didn’t occur to you to mention that before we fucked?”

“I forgot. I switched up my method and I’m not technically covered yet. It’s marginal, you know. Most likely fine. I mean, what’s another 24 hours? Besides, I didn’t exactly plan on this, did I?”

He scoffs, then he purses his mouth until much of the colour drains from his lips. “Oh yeah. Sure you didn’t.”

You raise your eyebrows, and jut a hip out to the side for good measure. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Santiago shakes his head softly. Plants his hands on his wide hips, making himself larger. You don’t shrink back from him, but you note it. “For real?” He flashes his line of teeth now, a lopsided, disbelieving lilt of his lips – no happiness in it. Not at all. “I know you love to pretend like I’m the bad guy, right? That serves your narrative or whatever? Bullshit, honey. You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.” You snort out a huff of air through your nose, your look all steel as you prepare to deny his claims. You falter though, with his next words. “I can’t get off without you, Santiago?” he mimics, and your comeback dies on your lips. “You wanna put this all on me now? Believe me, I gave it everything I had to stay out of-“

“-My vagina? Yeah, great job, Pope.” You throw your hands up in the air and they slump right back down again. “You’ve had everything up in there except your damn tongue.”

“Let’s go then, sweetie,” he challenges, nodding to the rear of you, his voice taut rather than inviting. “Hop up on the counter and spread your legs, I’ll make it 3 for 3.”

It’s unfamiliar to you, this tone of his. It makes your heartbeat rage. You swear you can even feel the pulse of it in your tongue. “Fuck. Whatever. I’m not having this conversation with you.” Your adrenaline spikes at the prospect of another argument and you turn on your heel, looking for an exit.

However, before you can retreat, Santiago’s broad palm contacts your arm to stop you – open hand, no force applied – and you turn your head over your shoulder. “At least tell me you’re going to take care of this,” he bites off, with a clear attempt to restrain his aggravation, expression sullen.

“Of course I am.”

“How?”

You think. “I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning. I’ll deal with it.” You pump your brows emphatically. “Okay?”

You shrug his hand off of you then with apparent disdain for his touch, and in spite of his (relative) tolerance of your acerbic tone, that is apparently the move which fractures his composure. “You know what actually blows my mind? The way you can be nice to me just long enough to get yours. Pretty fucking convenient.”

You feel your face twist with the weight of a sour expression, mirroring his. “Why are you always like this?” You don’t wait to hear his answer, the adrenalin propelling you away, down the hall and closer to your room, but his footfalls follow closely behind you, hot on your heels. Your voice is a whispered hiss, as, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are vaguely aware of the need to keep it down – the other boys are lights out by now. “Why can you never just fuck me and be happy about it, huh?” You spin to face him, chest to chest and facing off.

“I knew this was a fucking mistake.”

Your pulse is in your throat. “Right. Maybe it was. That’s all I ever was to you, I guess.”

Your voices raise, slowly creeping up in volume as you each get lost in this intimate bubble of angst. Of resentment. On some level, you know you could stop now - before it gets worse and you say things you will only regret (or worse, hear things you’ll wish you hadn’t). You know that you should stop, but it feels… oddly necessary.

Like it’s inevitable. Like you’ve been waiting all this time to fuck and fight because it’s all you know how to do with him anymore. At least, it’s all you know how to do when loving him heart and soul seems off the table.

The space your bodies create is tight, leaning into each other’s circle of personal space.

Santiago’s fingers bridge like a claw and he taps them against his own chest, his eyes needling you like he could sew this up once and for all. Tie off all those loose threads of blame which sit frayed between you. He’s angry. Angry and riled and pissed and even so, there is still this eerie sense of calm about him.

You’ve seen him really let loose. You’ve seen him kill, for Christ’s sake, and yet he’s still measured and restrained in the face of you. That should make it easier to bear the brunt of his sharp edges, but that’s not quite so. There’s something about the precision of his anger when it’s focussed on you. The fact it feels so considered, so targeted only makes it cut deeper. “You know what? I’m tired as shit of always being the fucking bad guy here. You wanna get into it, huh?” His voice breaks now, splitting like shrapnel, lodging in your chest. “I told you I love you and you fucking left me.”

“That’s fucking bullshit!”

He’s not happy that you said that. He rocks from foot to foot like he’s priming for something. Scoops a hand over his jaw, around his taut mouth. You’re close enough to hear it rasp, the fleck of his stubble bristling against his palm. “Oh, it’s bullshit?”

Your voice comes out hot now, your words bitten off between your teeth, flecks of spit cast from your mouth. “Yes! Because if I hadn’t left you never would have told me! You told me because I left you! You told me to fucking punish me. To try and drag me back in.”

“Wow. Jesus fucking...” He laughs, but it is a cold, brief sound. “That’s fucking rich, cariño.” His eyes glint like knife licks, and he plants his hand indignantly against his chest, jutting up his chin. Puffing up his chest and making his body all angles. Protecting himself. “That’s really what you think of me, huh?” You try to look away from him, but his eyes chase you for an answer.

Is it? Is that what you genuinely think of your best friend? Is that what you think he’s done to you? Tried to do?

If so, no wonder you’re so fucking angry. No wonder your body is trembling with it.

But the truth is, when pushed on it, you have no intelligible retort you can form. No evidence you can offer. So, instead, in your panic over losing ground, you opt to minimise. You throw your hand up dismissively and you turn on your heel, stomping towards your door at the end of the hall. “Fuck this.”

This time, his footsteps do not follow, even if you can still feel his eyes boring into your back. You think that might even be the end of things, until…

“No,” he sounds. A forceful, robust note which fills the whole hallway. A command to wait. This isn’t over.

With you and him, it’s never going to be over, is it?

You turn towards him and he is fixed in position, stance set wide and chin dipped down, eyes blackened half moons as he looks at you. “Just let me get this straight. If I’m the one who drags you back in? What the shit do you call what you just did?”

You scoff. “You were a very willing participant, Pope. Or, I dunno. Why don’t you just consider it payback for all the times you fucked me around?”

He’s biting words back as he listens to you now. You can see them, in the tilt of his head and the flare of his nostrils. In the flip and curl of his tongue settled around his upper lip, dragging back and forth just below his filtrum. “Revenge, then? Really? Is that what this weekend has been about for you? You really that vindictive?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” You dismiss him again, as though not one of his complaints about you can possibly be valid. Or, rather, revealing you are currently unwilling to admit it even if they are. After all, you’re as stubborn as he is. Each of you trying so desperately to palm off the blame for how fucked up this became.

Santiago paces towards you then, footfalls rhythmic and steady as he swallows the space between you in the hall. “Jesus. You don’t even give a shit, do you? Think I deserve to have my heart crushed into fucking dust?”

Hot, angry tears spike at the corner of your eyes as you spit your words, jabbing his shoulder with your pointer finger. “Like you give a shit that I left?”

His dense brows draw down, his whole face a grimace, his voice practically booming throughout the hallway, close enough that the sound of it rumbles in your chest. “I don’t know how else I can say it. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Yeah? Well you never fucking had to!”

Santiago is the one who turns from you now, pacing back in a loop, both hands lifting and dragging backward through his grizzled curls, flattening them to his head in disbelief. He rounds back to you, spittle glistening on his lower lip from his tirade. He’s waving his arms now, everything being thrown upward just like the hideous lurch in your stomach. “You’re the one who ran from this!”

Well, that’s the biggest pile of shit you ever heard. You fold your arms to your chest, becoming guarded and taut where he becomes more frenzied. “Oh ho ho,” you scoff. “Now that’s a grade A delusion, right there.” He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head from side to side in a long, disbelieving drag. In denial. Still. “You’ve been running, Santiago. You’ve done nothing but run from this. Even the whole time I was right next to you. Especially then.”

He steps towards you, driving your body back into the door without making a scrap of contact with you. From the force of him alone. He leans his face in real close, his movements disconcertingly slow - cautious and deliberate. It’s not threatening – you don’t feel physically unsafe at all - but you can tell from the flare of his nostrils and that gunpowder glint in his eye that while his movements may be constrained, he’s still arming himself with a coming barrage.

You flatten yourself – your back to the shut paneled door- and Santiago lifts his hand, reaching up to you. Pincering your chin deceptively tenderly between his thumb and forefinger, making sure you look at him. “Right. And you’ve been so perfect, huh?” His eyes needle you, making it impossible for you to wheedle out of this one. To dismiss him. He’s making sure you take at least some accountability for your part in this. “Fucking other guys to get back at me? Insisting we keep it a secret? Pissing off to another fucking continent, two days early, by the way, before we’d even put things right?” You break eye contact, your vision of him blurred by wilful tears. He releases your chin from his grip then, but the space between you remains tight. Close, even as you feel a million miles from him. “Christ - it’s like you never fucking wanted this to work. Never believed I was worth it. How am I supposed to work with that?”

Hot, spiking tears spill over onto your cheeks. You scrub them away with a flattened palm but it still doesn’t slow them down.

“Please,” you beg limply, shaking your head from side to side. You want him to stop this. You just want this to be over.

“I was never the guy someone would bring home to their mama, was I? Too fucked up and too broken for that? Hands too bloody, right, to be good enough for you?” You balk audibly in protest at his words, but even so, it sends a hot flash of heat to your cheeks.

Is there some truth in it?

Had you been afraid of what he’d done, even though the blood on his hands matches yours? Or… maybe because of it?

Your lower lip begins to tremble as the ire in Santiago’s eyes burns you, hot like coals. But he has more to say. “I get it. It’s easier to blame me for everything that got fucked up, right?” He beats his palm emphatically against his chest and flattens it there. “I’m hardly a fucking Saint, I’ll admit that much. But do you honestly think that I ever wanted to hurt you? That this doesn’t fucking hurt me?”

No. You want to say “no”. No. That’s not what you believe at all, but instead the words that find their way out are cruel and petty. “Well you did. You hurt me!”

You wish you could get rid of it, this anger in your chest. You only want to love him… but you tried that, and since it didn’t work, it somehow feels like the anger is all you have left to fill this hole in your middle.

His eyes tighten, and Santiago jabs his finger back and forth, his voice hoarse as he pushes the words out from the pit of his chest. “It never mattered, what I did or didn’t do. It was never going to be good enough for you.”

“That’s not true. At all!” You spit back. “It’s you who thought that. Not me. Not me. You wouldn’t even fucking try.”

Santiago scrubs a tear away from his own cheek now. His voice creaks and cracks apart. “I tried. I did. But you only want me under certain conditions right. If I quit. If I get out. Maybe if I’m someone fucking else.”

“That’s not fair, that’s not how it is. For fuck’s sake, Santi.”

You are both entirely undone now with this ugly rage, tears wetting your cheeks, and this resentment and blame twisting your words and your faces into something unrecognisable.

That makes it all the worse when Frankie’s torso pokes out of his door in the hallway. You know that the two of you are not yourselves. Frankie’s face twists with disappointment and concern in equal measure, and you fold your arms across your chest defensively, feeling embarrassed that he is seeing you this way. At your worst. Why do you and Santiago always seem to bring out the worst in each other? You’d swear blind to anyone that he’s the best person you know.

“Guys. What the fuck?” Frankie ventures. His voice is grogged by sleep, and you get the feeling he would step out into the hall if he wasn’t entirely nude behind the door frame.

Feeling suddenly ashamed, with the contrasting softness of Frankie’s eyes on yours, you feel the urge to run from yourself and what you’ve become, all twisted up like this. You push past Santiago in the hallway, storming down the stairs as tears now cascade freely down your cheeks. You don’t even make an attempt to mop them up now, letting them course down and drip from the point of your chin.

Then, with an aggravated sigh, Santiago follows you too, in pursuit, despite Frankie’s barked pleas that he “leave it alone, cabrón”.

You push out of the threshold and into the night, the cooler air a welcome relief. You pace away from the house, wanting to leave it, to leave him entirely, but your body will not let you. Will not carry you far enough away, and your steps quickly run out of steam.

When Santiago finds you, you are stood with your back to him, looking out towards the white crash of waves. He comes and stands next to you, hands gently clenched by his sides.

“Look,” he begins, staring out at the expanse of water. You feel your anger cresting and with it comes a wave of sadness. “I love you. But maybe you’re right. Maybe… we’re not good for each other. Maybe we just… can’t make each other happy.”

You shake your head softly. Tip your eyes to the sky to stave off yet more tears. “I just wish we’d never changed things.” You wish more than anything that you could simply swallow it. Go back to how things were before.

“Don’t,” Santi implores, turning to you with his hands cupped as though in offering, soft and haphazard and trying to catch on your elbow, your shoulder, your hand. “Don’t say that. Please. No matter how fucked this got… You’re the best thing I ever-”

But, your anger is not done. Your palms raise in the air, forming a barrier between your bodies - a defence against his brutal love - and you snatch yourself away from him. Your voice is once again harsh as it rings in accusation, words tearing from your lips like bullets. “-Let go?”

There is a beat.

“Seriously. You’re gonna stand there and tell me I could I have fucking stopped you?”

You raise your palms and plant them to your face, splayed fingers tugging in disbelief from your temples, sliding down to your mouth - drawing your cheeks into a grimace. You look at him and his face is once again taut with blame. His mouth a thin, downturned line. But even now….. Somehow, even now, you want to kiss him. Want to kiss him until he is soft again, like you know he can be.

Why would he never turn soft for you - not all the way? Soft in your arms? Why would he never?

He shifts his weight from foot-to-foot under your scrutiny. He sees the anger melt away from your face, but his is not done. “I mean, fuck. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to come with you? Just drop everything?”

“Just stop, Santi,” you plead, weakly, but there’s no way he heard you over his own tirade.

“My whole career. This shit I’ve got going on with Lorea. Pick-up and move here? Huh? Tell me? What do you want from me?”

You fold your arms across your chest, closing yourself off to him. “Please, just drop it.”

“You want me to have dinners with you and your family on Sundays? Take the nephews to the playpark, huh?”

He won’t stop. He won’t stop talking, stop pushing you, and you can’t take it. You’re going to snap.

“Go fucking grocery shopping? And get married and have babies and-?”

“Yes!” you finally yell, your whole body craning forward as you fire your answer out through your throat, the word coming out scuffed and sudden; but nothing if not truthful. Your eyes go wide, quivering with tears as well as the shock of your revelation. The shock of revealing something you can barely even admit to yourself.

That is what you want. With him.

Santiago is evidently as shocked as you are too. Stunned into silence, in fact. He takes a perceptible step back from you, punching out a breath like he’s just been struck with a body shot. All the tension drops from his limbs, and his arms flop uselessly to his sides.

But, instead of backtracking, from somewhere, somehow, you finally find the courage to stand in your truth. “Yes,” you say shakily. “I want that, you asshole.” And, at those words, you interpret the most repulsive thing you’ve seen in his eyes all night. Pity. “And you, meanwhile? You’d rather get shot in the guts than do that with me, wouldn’t you? Something so mundane as being happy? Something so fucking worthless as loving me?” You tear your head away from him, whip your gaze away as you cannot bear to look at him. Cannot bear to see your true wants rejected. With a final question, you stab your pointer finger against your sternum with enough force that it hurts. “I’m not a mission, so I’m not worth it right? Not important?”

He shoves his hands in his back pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor, to a neutral spot between you. His voice all but cracks apart, small and broken. “I told you that I love you.”

“That wasn’t enough!” You bite your words off before you can even think, and his eyes snap back up to yours then. Wounded. Glassy. You regret the words as soon as you have spoken them, but it is far too late to recall them now. You can see that they cut him - and you can even understand why they would hurt. What an awful thing to have said, you think; that his love wasn’t enough.

It was everything.

Everything.

Wasn’t it?

Even so, here you stand, still waiting and hoping that he can offer you something more than that alone. A solution, perhaps. A way to fix this.

Instead though, Santiago simply nods slowly. Contemplatively. In resignation. He stands eerily still. Eerily quiet. Entirely stoic. “Right. Well.” His hand rasps back and forth over his stubble, and his voice is entirely sunken. Defeated. He’s a soldier. Your friend. Your lover. But most of all, now he’s someone who appears to have stopped fighting for you. He looks you in the eye, all of his anger dissipated. Voice scrubbed clean and entirely dispassionate. “That’s too bad then. Because I don’t have anything else I can give you.”

He turns from you now, and you grab onto his arm. “Believe me. The only thing I ever wanted from you… With you, was a future, Santiago.”

It breaks your heart when he quietly, slowly extricates his arm from your grasp, slipping through your fingers like fine sands. Did you really think that you could do that? That you could keep on pushing him, without eventually pushing him away?

A divot notches in his brow. “Mmm-hmm. Well I guess we fucked any shot at that now, didn’t we?”

You search his ashen eyes - almost in desperation - for some of that all too familiar fire. For any sort of spark for you.

Godammit, as soon as the anger has gone, you want it back. You want something; only because it seems a damn sight better than nothing at all.

You can’t handle it - the thought that any future with him is being taken off of the table once and for all. You know - if you step back from this - that you’ve been far from perfect. That you’ve been bitter, volatile, reactive. Maybe even cruel, at times. You know, in truth, that you shouldn’t be so hung up on the past -on what happened all those months ago and beyond- but it’s the only thing Santiago has ever given you to dwell on. How were you supposed to move on, when he’s never been able to look ahead with you?

Still, all of a sudden, being faced with any and all possibilities of a future with him being ripped away from you, it is all you want to talk about. The past and your grievances and the blame now seem wholly irrelevant. You feel bile rise into your mouth. “Listen. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Just… How do we get past this, Santiago? That’s what matters.”

He stops, halting his retreat back to the house. He turns, slowly. And, Santiago takes your hands into each of his. Looks at you solemnly, as your eyes flit over his face in doubt and fear and regret. He bundles your hands up together, sandwiching them together between his warm, steady palms and he gives them a squeeze - full of finality. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t,” he sounds, flatly, voice scrubbed clean of emotion. And, the only thing worse than hearing his words out loud, is that he looks like he believes them.

For once, Santiago “Pope” Garcia seems cold, and it hurts more than any of his fire has ever burnt you. Maybe the anger, horrible as it feels, is better. Because it is better than nothing. Better than losing him altogether.

After all, what is it that happens when the fire goes out?

Well, you suddenly feel like you’re about to find out.

You suddenly feel like it’s truly about to be over.

And so, you clasp your hands over your mouth and you sob, fleeing towards the interior of the house, because you have no place else left to run but away from him.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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eth-edwards-73 · 7 months

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Te amo

Hector Fort x reader warnings: none (all pictures are from pinterest) (Spanish translations in end note)

liked by hctorforrt_, marcguiu9 and 192.374 others yourusername my boy <33 tagged: hctorforrt_

hctorforrt_ amore mio <33 > liked by creator

fan91 I don’t get how he got her

fan7 he’s so arrogant and she’s so sweet

fan78 she deserves so much better

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You could see Hector deflate beside you as the comments came in. You two had been dating for a year, public for 5 months now, both of you knew that there would be some hate but it hadn’t gone down even after 5 months. All the hate came from your fans and you hated how bad they made your boyfriend feel. Just seeing him sad like that made you furious but your manager wouldn’t let you post anything telling the fans off.

In your eyes and the eyes of all the people that really know Hector he is the sweetest person ever and yes he does have confidence but he’s definitely not arrogant. He was the best boyfriend you could ever wish for, taking in account every single thing you felt and you hated that some of your fans couldn’t see that.

You truly were getting desperate to finally speak out about the matter so you angrily texted your manager, telling her that this couldn’t go on and that you didn’t care if you lost fans for defending your boyfriend, because he was hurting and you didn’t want that.

Finally, after months of begging your manager agreed so you selected some of your favorite photos with Hector and created a post, drafting a caption and sending it to your manager, she agreed and you copied it into insta. After that you perfected it a little, asked Hector if he was fine with you posting it and then posted it when you got the green light from your boyfriend.

liked by bbfusername, hctorforrt_ and 293.019 others

yourusername So since my relationship has gone public both Hector and me have been getting nasty comments on our insta posts and tbh i’m done with this

Hector is the sweetest person i’ve ever met and in the year and two months that we’ve been together i’ve never been happier. He manages to always put a smile on others and my face without problems. Yes he’s confident but he’s not arrogant, not even close to it and I hate that you’re all just assuming that he is when you don’t even know him. He’s the best boyfriend I could ever ask for and I don't want anyone other than him. He had done so much for me, from helping me find ideas for videos and music, to taking me out on the perfect dates and giving me everything I could ever want.

There are no words for how much I love and care for him, being with him has been a dream come true. And to all my supposed fans that hate on him, i don’t consider you a fan because if you were you’d support Hector and me. All of the people that have left comments talking bad about Hector are just as bad as my haters and there is no excuse that can make me think differently.

Y finalmente para Héctor, tú eres la luz de mi vida y no estaría donde estoy ahora mismo sin ti. No podía imaginar lo que haría si te perdiera. Te amo ahora y para siempre <33

tagged: hctorforrt_

bffusername istg you two are the cutest <3 > liked by creator and hctorforrt_

hctorforrt_ te amo <33 > liked by creator > yourusername yo también te quiero

marcguiu9 Nunca lo he visto tan feliz como cuando está contigo > liked by creator and hctorforrt_

ursistersusername i want someone that looks at me like that :( > liked by creator

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liked by yourusername, bbfusername and 92.182 others hctorforrt_ Te quiero más que a nada ❤️ tagged: yourusername

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm really happy with how this one turned out but just to be sure imma put the translations from the Spanish here

Y finalmente para Héctor, tú eres la luz de mi vida y no estaría donde estoy ahora mismo sin ti. No podía imaginar lo que haría si te perdiera. Te amo ahora y para siempre: And finally for Hector, you are the light of my life and I wouldn’t be where I am right now without you. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I lost you. I love you now and forever

Nunca lo he visto tan feliz como cuando está contigo: I’ve never seen him so happy as when he’s with you

Te quiero más que a nada: I love you more than anything

I hope you all enjoy it too and i love y'all <33

#hector fort #fc barcelona #spain #la masia #hector fort x reader

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dont-feel-so-good-peter · 2 years

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

[𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Word count: 12K+

Tag: @moonnaught

Note: I’m sorry for not posting my life became hectic and many family members were in the hospital. I’ll try my best to write this week.

— EVERY COUPLE ARGUES. In every relationship, some ups and downs happened. Some issues become fixed and other problems are left to be unsolved. As with many problems in a relationship, this particular has been left unsolved. The problem with Marc Spector and Jake Lockley was that they were very closed-off people. But since you were originally Marc's wife, Marc fronted most of the time to spend with you but it's been a year since he's become Moon Knight, he didn't like talking about it with you.

Or talked about his emotions in general. And it seemed like every argument was a full circle because of that issue. You would gently try to ask him what's wrong then he would brush it off saying it's nothing. You would plead with him asking him to tell you what's wrong then somehow, along the way of begging turns into a screaming match.

If anything, the same routine of the same problem was getting exhausting. You would storm out of the shared apartment and leave for a couple of hours. Or lock yourself in the bathroom to cry because all you want to do is help Marc.

But it seems like every time you try with him, another screaming match occurred as Marc and Jake who were taking turns between fronting in the body, slamming the cabinets as you stood a far distance away from him. "Please, just tell me what's going on!" You shouted trying your best not to flinch with each slam of the cabinet as Jake was looking for a particular item that you hid away just for them to talk to you.

You knew the item that you hid away was important to their mission but you wanted them to talk to you about what was going on. "I don't have time to tell you what's going on!" Marc shouted this time as he slammed another cabinet, turning around to face you. "This mission is far too important. Just give me what I need!"

"Just tell her what's going on. You're scaring her." Steven pleaded from the window's reflection watching you flinch from his loud tone.

Marc ignored him. He always ignores Steven because Steven was the one who always patched the relationship up. Honestly, if Steven wasn't there, Marc believes that the marriage would have ended years ago but yet; you still remain.

Marc wasn't sure if you still remained because of Steven or you just couldn't leave the relationship. He saw how your eyebrows would wrinkle together as tears glisten in your eyes with each argument. He knew he pushed you away every single day, his reason was simple. He was afraid of getting close to someone; to show vulnerability.

Marc purposely self-sabotage every relationship he ever had because of his mother. His mother's words still lingered in the back of his head no matter how much he pushed away the memories and tried to erase them from his mind; she was always there. And for that reason, it was hard to get close to anyone.

Especially the one he loves the most; you.

But how could he tell you about being Moon Knight? You were the only thing good in his life no matter the numerous times he pushed you away, screamed back at you; caused this rift in the relationship that was slowly tearing you away from him. You were that balance that Marc needed, it was fucked up in a way because he knew he held onto this toxic relationship. The toxic relationship he created but it was addictive to come home to someone who still remained.

Marc knew you deserved better; of course, he knew this, but he felt in a way that he deserved something good in his life. He couldn't imagine you with someone else, it felt selfish to have you remain here with him, unhappy. He wanted to change but that lingering voice of his mother is what caused this rift of forever never having a stable relationship with anyone.

You shakily stepped forward but remained your distance away from him. "Please, just. . .just tell me what's going on, Marc." You pleaded as your eyes trickled with tears. "I. . .I know this mission is important but I'm always worried for you. I stay up at night never knowing if you're going to come back. I stay up wondering if you're dead or not."

"I never fucking asked you to worry about me." Marc harshly replied, stomping towards you. His brood figure towered over you, his dark eyes peering at you. "I never ask you to stay up at night wondering where I'm at. I'm fine. Now, tell me, where is the damn map?"

You narrowed your eyes at him as tears fell from the corner of your eyes. Marc's heart ached seeing the same tears that were resulted from his anger. Not every day was it that you cried, only the days when Marc had to leave. On the days he didn't have to leave, those were the moments that made it worth staying but quite frankly, you were getting mentally exhausted.

Exhausted from crying, worrying about your husband. Wondering almost every night if he was going to be alive but here he was asking you to not worry. From when he became Moon Knight, before all of that; you were in a good relationship with him. It may have not been the best but ever since he became Moon Knight; everything changed.

You didn't know why you stayed with Marc. Truly, it was hard to say. Perhaps you saw yourself in him. Afraid to be alone, afraid to endure the loneliness, and afraid to show yourself to anyone. You thought those types of thoughts were in the past when he saved you from being kidnapped. He was hired to save you and through that crazy journey, you connected with him but for the past year, it seems that connected broken to almost nothing.

Almost.

Almost because you still had hope. But you were almost at your breaking point as well with him. "The map is on the bookshelf, hidden behind my romcom section." You muttered quietly. Wiping the tears with the back of your hand, you step aside from Marc.

Marc quickly walked to the bookshelf and carefully put your book aside to find the map that he stole a few days ago for Khonshu. He found the worn-out map quickly and stuffed it in his pocket. He placed back your books in the right order and turned around seeing you standing there with a blank expression.

How did everything turn out so shitty? Marc could blame everyone else for what has happened to the relationship. His mother to creating a series of problems like his mental illness, and his lack of understanding of how to care for another person properly and healthily. How to process his emotions in a way that doesn't harm himself or others. Or he could blame Khonshu who created this person he hated and used him as a puppet.

He could blame the world for giving him an unfair life. But in reality, his choices come to him. His behavior came down to him. Steven would always tell Marc how he could go to therapy to change his toxic and unhealthy behavior but Marc was afraid. His fear was affecting everything in his life. He could only blame himself for not changing.

And he does blame himself because of the expression on your face. Usually, you would be crying and begging him to stay home with you. To be safe with you and not go anywhere else but here you stood. Emotionless and uncaring. Perhaps you were at your breaking point where you didn't care for him anymore. And that was on him.

"You know," you began with a harsh chuckle. "I didn't think the relationship would have got to this point. And you're right. You never asked me to care for you but you asked me to marry you. And that meant I would care for you once I said yes."

Your finger and thumb twirl the ring around your finger as you slid the ring off. Marc's heart sunk seeing the ring between your fingers. This was it, this was your breaking point. "But each time you put on that costume, I always worry but I won't anymore." You stride towards him, harshly grabbing his wrist. Forcing his hand open, you shoved the ring in his hand. "I'm not divorcing you but I won't wear that ring anymore. You're not the man I married, Marc. You're a stranger. Blame whoever you want about our downfall but you can only blame yourself. I blame myself for many reasons but I won't be part of this toxicity anymore. I'm done."

You turned around and walked away from him. His eyes bore on the back of you. His heart rammed against his chest as he blinked rapidly. His eyes peered down to the ring. The shimmering golden ring had a carving on it. Together forever, my love

"Marc. . ." Steven muttered from the nearest reflection. His heart aches at the situation.

Marc sniffled, holding back his tears as his fingers curled around the ring. His face went blank as he slipped the ring inside of his pocket and turned around. "Marc, you could fix this," Steven said from the passing reflections on the wall. "I know you want to!"

"No, leave her be," Jake spoke up as Marc curled his fingers around the door knob. "She deserves better than us. All we ever do is fight with her. It's better to leave now and come back later."

"No, I disagree," Steven argued. "Marc. I know you love her. You can make this right."

Marc shook his head as his eyes softened at the door. "No, Jake is right. All I ever do is mess everything up. All I ever do is push people away. This is my fault, it was inevitable." Marc whispered. "It's too late to try anymore."

Marc opened the door, his head jerked to see if you were standing there. To have any last hope that you didn't mean what you said but nothing. The apartment was silent. And Marc left with that silence.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat on top of the bathroom's sinks marble counter. The cool countertop stimulated your nerves as the hammering of your heart didn't ease. Your finger felt empty without the ring that was given to you by Marc. Never once you took the wedding ring off your finger, never after a fight but this time, it was different.

You had to take it off to show how serious this problem was to Marc and Jake. You only found out about his alters a few months ago. Steven was the better pleasant one than Jake because Jake was similar to Marc. Always hiding something because they're scared to show their true selves.

The argument between Jake was still fresh in your mind because it happened yesterday. It almost seemed like you couldn't get a break. Whether it was Jake arguing with you or Marc; there was always something.

| YESTERDAY |

Jake's heavy footsteps echoed through the apartment causing you to stir in your sleep. The groggy feeling slowly disappeared as you rapidly blinked away the blur of your sleeping state. Your eyes darted to the nearest clock and the time read 5:37 AM. It wasn't the latest time Jake ever came home, you were more surprised he came home at all.

Usually, he's gone for days but this time, he came home early for once. Stretching off the couch, you crossed your arms underneath the blanket. "Jake?" You called out softly watching him shuffle around the kitchen possibly looking for something to eat.

At first, he didn't answer. His shoulders were tense as his hands stopped mid-reach towards a cabinet. "What are you doing up?" Jake gruffly questioned.

You could barely see him through the dark. You decided to get up, carefully wrapping the blanket closer to your body as your bare feet padded across the apartment to find the light switch. "Don't turn on the light," Jake said from the kitchen but your finger flicked the switch.

You squinted your eyes from how bright the light illuminated the apartment. You heard more shuffling from the kitchen as you walked over there. You let out a soft gasp as your brows wrinkled together. "Jake." You muttered worriedly.

From the side of him, you could see a bandage on his nose as his nose was bloody and bruised purple. Small cuts formed on his cheek and litters of other small wounds across his forehead. "Go back to bed," Jake demanded as he continued to pull out his favorite snack to munch on.

"How can I go to bed when you come home looking like this?" You said incredulously. It was terrifying seeing Jake coming home with wounds like this as if he just let the other guys punch him. As if he didn't care to take a hit.

"I'm fine." Jake merely replied, he didn't turn around to look at you. He was hiding something but Jake was always hiding something. And you could tell he was hiding that something but he was refusing to look over at you. His shoulders were more tensed than usual. His tone had more sharpness and roughness as if something happened.

"What's wrong?" You softly asked.

"It's none of your business!" Jake suddenly shouted, firmly slamming his snack against the counter causing you to flinch as he turned around. That's when you got a good look at him. His eyes were bloodshot red as if he's been recently crying. The tears stained his cheek as his eyes were heavy with regret.

Your lips curled into a frown as you stepped closer to him. "Jake." You reached out to comfort him but he slapped your hand away. It wasn't a harsh slap but it made your chest clench from the hurt. Even with that hurt, you reached out still and grasp his sleeve instead. "What happened?"

Jake was silent for a moment. His eyes were averted from yours as he let out a harsh chuckle. "I went out on patrol and. . ." He sucked in a sharp breath as he shook his head. "And. . . There was a fire but some guys had me occupied. There were too many guys and I heard a kid crying for help in the burning building. I tried to get to the kid but. . ."

Jake didn't need to finish his sentence. You understood that he couldn't save the kid and that was feeling tremendously guilty for not being able to save the kid. Marc told you about what happened to his little brother so you could imagine how Jake felt about not being able to save the kid in the burning building. It was the same guilt from him not being able to save Randall.

"Oh, Jake." You said sympathetically. "It's not your fault. I understand how you feel."

Jake shook his head as he glanced at you with his jaw tightened. "No, it is my fault. You wouldn't understand what I'm feeling right now." He pulled his arm away from you as he walked past you. "You could never understand what it means to have a family because you were an orphan. You couldn't possibly understand how I feel, okay?"

Your eyes widened from what he said as your heart clenched. "I couldn't understand how you feel?" You let out an abrupt scoff as you pulled on Jake's arm, forcing him to look at you. "You're a fucking asshole, of course, I know how you feel because you know why? The only family I ever had is Marc. The only person I could rely on is Marc."

"And every day I'm scared shitless when you or him go out there getting your asses kicked. Doing some sort of fucked up missions for a crazy god. The mere thought of losing you terrifies me. So yes, I know how you feel about losing something because every day when I look at you or Marc, I lose a piece of myself." You shook your head as you let out a dry laugh. "I lose myself because I don't know whether you're coming back. Just like how you lost your brother, I'm losing you and Marc to this Moon Knight persona. So I know exactly how you feel."

What you said almost seemed pointless because no matter how many times you tell Marc or Jake your feelings, it seemed like it fell on death's ears. But what you didn't know was that Jake took in every word and that tremendous amount of guilt amplified. How he wishes he could be better for you. How he wished he could show you the love you deserved like Steven could but Jake was made out of Marc's anger.

Jake was fabricated of Marc's darkest desires. Jake couldn't give you what you needed no more than Marc could. Every day, he wished he could do better but as the same fear as Marc, his mother's voice lingered in his head.

"I'm not going to deal with this," Jake muttered through gritted teeth as he stomped back towards the front door. "I'm not even your husband. Why the fuck should you care about me?"

"You may not be my husband but you wear his face. Whatever actions you cause, the consequence lay on Marc." You replied harshly. "And I care because I always cared about you, Jake. Since you showed up, I cared. But go ahead, just leave like you always do."

In a way, you wished that Jake would have taken your words and stayed. You always wished Marc and Jake would stay but they never do because they can't handle their emotions. They could never handle their emotions.

So with solemn regret, Jake opened the front door and left abruptly with that silence lingering in the air as well. And finally, you broke down sobbing trying to muffle them by putting the blanket against your mouth. But Jake heard them as he leaned against the front door, heartbroken by the painful sobs.

| END OF FLASHBACK |

This time, you couldn't cry. Not at the moment because from every argument that comes; there was always the aftermath. Steven or sex. It was one of the two that would come with the aftermath. Steven, the precious man who consoles you through the heartache and there was the rough sex that happened with either Marc or Jake as in a way of an apology.

The problem was that you understood that Marc has heavy trauma to deal with and perhaps you couldn't leave because Marc was your only family. There was last shimmering hope that he could change, that he could do better. And you wanted him to do better, to seek help for his trauma. All you ever wanted him was to heal but you could only do so much for him.

Marc could only see to heal himself, you were done trying.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As usual with Marc's night on patrol after he handed the map to another avatar that Khonshu said was trustworthy. Marc was getting his mind off the argument the only way he knew how to. Fighting. His knuckles were chapped and bloody, aching from the ferocious punches he was giving to the man beneath him.

It almost seemed like he couldn't stop punching the person in the face. The man underneath him was trying to assault a woman in the alley. A woman that almost looked like you. The perpetrator hit the husband unconscious next to the woman and Moon Knight swept in. That was merely two minutes ago and yet, Marc didn't stop punching the man.

"Marc, that's enough!" Steven shouted inside his mind witnessing through Marc's eyes the situation.

Marc snapped out of his trance as he rapidly blinked underneath the suit. He stood up and glanced over to the woman who cradled her unconscious husband with fear, gazing at him with wide eyes. He stared at the woman in front of him. Her eyes looked similar to yours, even down to the same facial structure and skin color.

The woman was almost harmed and killed. Her husband wouldn't have known what would happen and would have woken up to her harmed, dead body. The thought of something happening to you crossed his mind. He could never forgive himself if something happened.

"Who-Who are you?" The woman called out, cradling her husband close to her chest.

"Moon Knight. . ." Marc trailed off as he kept his distance away from the woman. "Are- Are you okay? Is he okay?"

The woman nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yes, thank you, Moon Knight." Her voice strained as she glanced down back at her husband. "I'm sorry we fought earlier, please don't die on me."

"He's not going to die. He's just knocked out, call an ambulance and tell them what happened but don't mention me." Marc demanded as he turned around about to walk off to the night. His knuckles begin to heal as he stalked off.

"But you're a hero, how can I not mention you?" The woman croaked out.

Marc stood there frozen, he couldn't consider himself a hero. How could this woman see him as a hero when he beat a man near death? "Just don't mention me at all." He gruffly said, walking to the shadows.

Marc's mind lingered off to you. The primal fear of losing you was always on his mind but he knew this time, it could be true. He saw something with the woman he saved and her unconscious husband. She apologized for fighting with him earlier. Marc started wondering the what-ifs.

What if you walked outside by yourself to calm yourself down and you were in trouble. And if something bad had happened to you. What if you died and the last thing that happened between the two of you was an argument? What if he lived with that regret with his last words being to you was harsh?

What if you died not being his wife anymore?

There were worse things in life than him being killed, it was losing you. Marc's chest tightens at the thought of losing you not just emotionally and mentally but physically. His trauma held him back from making real connections to other people but he got you despite those hardships.

Despite everything that happened. You were there. Marc couldn't let these behaviors and patterns go on anymore. He couldn't allow you to walk away from him. With his new determination to do better, he ran.

Marc ran to the apartment allowing the mummy-esque dissolve from his body as he opened the apartment door. "Baby?" He called out as he shut the door behind him. The apartment was eerily quiet. His footsteps echoed through the apartment as his eyes darted around trying to hear you.

A voice softly came from behind the bathroom door. Marc quietly walked to the bathroom door and pressed his ear against the door. A soft sob escaped your lips, filling Marc's ear. His heart broke, usually, he pushed away from the terrible regret he felt after the arguments but he allowed it this time.

Marc allowed his feelings to crash all at once. His fingers curled around the doorknob and opened the door. "Baby?" Marc called out again as he shuffled into the bathroom.

His eyes softened with sadness seeing your face pressed against your knees as you hugged your arms around your knees, pressing them close to your chest. His eyes flickered to the mirror seeing Steven. "You know what to do Marc, you've always known but are you going to finally be a good husband and do better?" Steven questioned.

Marc nodded. He couldn't let this behavior affect the relationship any longer because his greatest fear besides being alone was having you walk out of his life. He was going to fix what he messed up. "Just go away, I'm tired." You mumbled. "I can't fight anymore, Marc. I don't want to fight with you anymore."

Marc shook his head as he brought his large hands to cup your face, lifting your head up. His heart hammered seeing the tears stain your cheeks. The puffiness crinkled around your eyes as you sniffled, narrowing your eyes at him. "I'm not here to fight either." He softly spoke. "I don't want to fight with you anymore. . .I'm sorry."

Your jaw dropped as you glanced around. "Is this real? Am I hallucinating this?"

Marc rolled his eyes as he scoffed. "Yes, this is real." He replied dryly. "I'm. . ." He deeply sighed trying to find the right words that were long overdue. "I'm so sorry about everything. I'm sorry that I caused our fights. I'm sorry that I make you cry. I'm sorry that I make you worry. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better person but. . .I want to be a better person. Not just for you but myself."

Your brows scrunched together as you sniffled. "This. . .this is the first time you apologize since a few months ago." You muttered confused. "Are. . .are you okay?"

Marc shook his head. "No." He said truthfully for once. "I'm not okay. When you gave me your wedding ring. It felt like my whole world was crashing on me because baby, you are my whole world. I can't live without you and I won't." His fingers reached into his pocket and took out the ring, holding it in front of him. "I refuse to lose you because of my behavior. I will. . .I will get the help I need. I. . .I was just so scared to get help but I know I need to heal and you always encourage me to get that help."

"But you are my wife, my world, and my life. I refuse to do any of this without you. I'm sorry, [Name]." Marc profusely apologizes, shaking his head at himself. "I'm so sorry but please, don't go. I know you're tired, I'm tired too but we can get through this together. You're the only family I ever had besides Jake and Steven but you've been there for me. Please, put the ring back on."

Your eyes searched his and for the first time in a long time, he was vulnerable. Something you've been wishing for, something you hoped would happen and here it was. His eyes brimmed with tears as some slipped down the corner of his eyes. His fingers trembled between the ring as if he was scared of your answer.

"I want to hear from Jake as well." You replied because if you were going to put the ring back on, you wanted an apology from Jake as well. "I want him to apologize and then, you will know my answer."

Marc glanced over to the mirror. His eyes glared at the three-way mirror glancing at Jake who sighed. "I will apologize to our love," Jake replied.

Marc nodded and allowed Jake to take over the body. Jake's eyes fluttered open but his eyes were avoiding looking at you. He felt the padding of your fingers brush against his jawline, tilting his head to look at you. "Hey." You softly said. "Are you okay?"

Jake shook his head. You let your legs down on the sink as you scooted closer to him, he was in between your legs as his fingers brushed against the loose strands of hair on your face. His warm, dark eyes bore on your face, flickering around to study you. You weren't angry at him nor hurt, you were patient.

"No, mi amor. I'm not okay." Jake replied with a small smile. "I never been okay. More now than ever, I'm ashamed that I caused this much harm to you. You don't deserve any of this and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a fucking asshole and I'm sorry for the harm I caused. I'm your husband as well and I need to do better."

Jake sighed as he brought the glistening ring into your view. "You are my family as well. My world and my life. I won't cause any more harm because as much as Marc is terrified of losing you, I am as well. I would kill for you, I would die for you." The padding of his thumb brushed against the underside of your eye, brushing away the tear stain as he softly smiled. "We need help. And we're going to get that help, I promise. So, could you please put it back on before I sell it."

You scoffed playfully, pushing his shoulder as his chest rumbled with laughter. "Fine, I'll put it back on. Thank you for apologizing, Jake. You can rest now." You said pressing your hand against his chest with a smile.

Jake was exhausted from how he bottled his emotions and this was the first time he truly showed his vulnerability in front of anyone. He could rest knowing he wasn't judged or mocked for his emotions. And for the first in a long time, he felt safe so he decided to rest as Marc took over the body once again.

"Jake's right, if you don't put the ring on, I might sell it." He playfully teased as his fingers brushed along your arm. The padding of his fingers sent shivers throughout your body as you peered through him with half-lidded eyes. His touch was soft and enduring, it wasn't like his other touches after an argument where they were rough and unapologetic.

No, his touches were feathered like as if he was scared to touch you. To make the wrong move. But you enjoyed how he was touching you as your skin felt on fire. His fingers brushed against your ring finger as he brought your hand closer to his right hand. The ring between his index finger and thumb glisten underneath the low lights of the bathroom as he brought the ring to your finger.

Marc carefully put the ring back on your finger. The cool metal brushed against your delicate skin as your eyes flickered back and forth from Marc. His dark eyes glance back at you and everything felt right. His hand hesitantly let go of yours as he brought both his hands against your waist, squeezing them softly.

Marc didn't have to say anything. The way his eyes stared into yours felt like magic itself. As if everything was going to be finally okay. Your arms wrapped around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer between your legs as you sat at the edge of the sink. His thumbs massage your waist as he brought his forehead against yours.

"Do you have to be Moon Knight?" You suddenly questioned in a soft tone, peering your eyes at him through your thick eyelashes. "Can't we find a way for you to stop being Moon Knight? It's affecting you badly. It's affecting us badly."

Marc shook his head as he gave you a sad smile. "No, there isn't a way. I became a god's puppet to save Steven's and Jake's life. If there was a way, I would stop being Khonshu's puppet."

You sighed frustrated. "Well, can you at least tell me what's going on with this whole Moon Knight persona?"

"Yes, I will tell you but I want to make it up to you for how I've been treating you," Marc replied, he lifted his head away from yours. His brown curls messily fell over his forehead as he tilted his head, his eyes flickered across your face. "I want to make love with you. Not fucking like we've been doing for the past few months. But actually make love."

Your cheeks heated up at his suggestion. Making love and fucking was different, you haven't made love with Marc in a year. It was just rough, hatred fucking after each fight or each patrol he did. You nodded. "Please, make me feel good, Marc." You whispered. "I want to feel your love."

"This will be the first step of showing my love to you better," Marc said, pressing his lips against your forehead. A sweet and tender kiss that lingered there for a moment. He pulled away and his brown eyes darken gazing upon you. His large hands squeeze your waist, you already knew what he wanted.

Your legs spread open further as you scooted down closer to the edge. His hips pushed against yours as you brought him down to your level. His lips crashed onto yours messily. His nose bumped against yours as with one hand, snaked across your body feeling through the thin material of your shirt; well, Marc's shirt.

Marc thought how cute you looked wearing his large shirt on you and very small shorts that were hugging against your waist tightly. His fingers brushed underneath the shirt, feeling your skin underneath the padding of his fingers as he snaked his hands up to your breast. His brows rose up as the padding of his thumb brushed against your bare nipple.

"No bra?" Marc muttered against your plump lips as his eyes fluttered open. Blush spread across your cheeks as you shook your head. "Awe, don't be shy baby. I'm your husband. I've seen your pretty little pussy many times. And I've seen your breast countless times, I can never get enough of them."

"You always so shameless." You mumbled, flickering your eyes at him as your fingers captured his brown curls between your fingers.

"I'm shameless? What about the time you didn't wear any underwear to a party? You were shameless enough to show your pussy to me just so you could get fucked in the bathroom." Marc retorted teasingly as his other hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, helping you pull it over your head. “Flaunting your pussy for everyone to see.”

"Because you made me mad earlier that day. I just wanted to make you jealous." You nonchalantly shrugged as your nipples perked from the cool air in the bathroom. Your cheeks heated up more as Marc's eyes bore onto your chest.

Marc could never get enough of your body. His eyes were always filled with amazement as if he was seeing your body for the first time again. "Yeah, but you got what you wanted, little slut so. . ." He trailed off as he brought two fingers against your chin, forcing you to look at him as he lowered his head to your level. "What does my little slut want now? There's no one around to flaunt your pretty pussy around beside me."

Your skin felt like it was on fire as the padding of his thumb brushed against your chin. His grip was tight on your chin as his dark eyes were narrowed at you. This wasn't like the other times when he was quiet and fucked you, no, he wanted to hear your every thought. To spill every shameless thought in his mind as well. This was the Marc you knew before he became Moon Knight.

"I want you to eat my pussy out. I want your tongue to make me cum as many times possible." You replied breathlessly as you rutted your hips against his, feeling his cock strain underneath his jeans. You whimpered feeling the contact of his clothed cock against you. "I want to see stars and pass out from your tongue."

Marc chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You're going to be the death of me." He muttered. "You'll get what you want but first, I'll get what I want."

You rose an eyebrow at this feeling Marc tilt your head. His lips lowered to your neck as his teeth scraped against the underside of your neck. His tongue swirled around a specific spot that he knew would help stimulate your pussy. Now, you understood why he wasn't immediately going to your pussy. He was warming you up first to get you wet for him.

His mouth formed on a spot on your neck and begin sucking as his other hand trailed up to your bare breast. His index finger and thumb capture your nipple and begin to roll it between his fingers. You let out a soft gasp, rolling your eyes back as you rutted your hips against him.

Marc felt his cock harden as his mouth littered pinks and purple hues around your neck. Crescent-shaped markings formed around your neck as he harshly hit down against your neck. You let out a hiss as your fingers ran through his brown curls. "Marc." You whimpered out. The ache of wanting him inside of you grew as your pussy slicked with wetness.

Marc chuckled against your collar bone as his tongue gave a languid swipe. His tongue trailed down between the center of your breast as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes. His knees fell against the tile. His hands cupped your breast as he brought his mouth against your nipple.

You arched your back feeling his tongue twirl around your sensitive nipple. His teeth scraped harshly against the bud, biting softly down. You let out small whines of pleasure as with his other hand, the padding of his thumb grazed your stiff nipple. Slick coated the fabric of your underwear as your walls clenched around nothing. "Marc, please. I need your tongue." You begged.

Your blunt nails scratched his scalp as your hips wiggled around and your thighs clenched together, rubbing against another trying to stimulate pleasure. "Such a needy girl, you were always the impatient one." Marc teased, his voice muffled against your breast as he pulled away. The silvery string of saliva drooled from your nipple to his mouth. He pulled away causing a disconnect as he kissed alongside the center of your stomach, languidly trailing down.

His hands cupped the side of your thighs as he spread apart your legs. "I'm the impatient one?" You scoffed, glaring down at him. "I remember a time when you begged me to dominate you."

Marc's eyes darkened, gazing at you through his lashes. "And you will never get the pleasure again, seeing me beg for you." His voice was low as his fingers curled around the hem of your shorts, swiftly pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. Your bare glistening cunt presented in front of him, aching for him to touch. "But it's always a pleasure to see your pussy waiting to be touched."

"Fuck off."

"Oh, I could but then you would be the one begging for me to come back and fuck you properly." Marc retorted, one of his thumbs grazed your puffy clit causing you to suck in a harsh breath. "Isn't that right, baby?"

"Yes." You muttered feeling him languidly massage his thumb around your clit. He didn't put pressure on it. He was teasing you or maybe he was just enjoying going slow for once. Either way, you wanted him to go faster. "Marc, please go faster."

"Why should I? I'm enjoying seeing my wife squirm like a slut." Marc grinned up at you. It was true, Marc was completely enthralled by how you looked above him. And with the light cascading off your body, he truly thought you were beautiful.

"Because your wife is asking you to treat her like a slut and go faster."

Marc rolled his eyes. "You're a brat. You get on my nerves." He replied, applying pressure against your puffy clit like you asked. His thumb massaged your clit and you let out a moan, gripping the edge of the sink.

"But you love me for that." You countered. He only chuckled back a reply as his warm breath fanned against your cunt. He was teasing you, wanting you to beg for his mouth. Marc Spector was cruel in ways but he always knew how to make you beg. "Marc." You warned with a frown.

"You know what to do, sweetheart." Marc countered with raised eyebrows. He was so close to your clit but he refused to do what you asked. He refused until he heard those pretty words coming out of your mouth.

"Please, Marc. Please make me cum on your tongue or I will take off the ring again." You said sadistically with narrowed eyes.

Marc rose an eyebrow at you. "Oh, you're cruel. Fine, I'll give my slut what she needs." He removed his thumb away from your clit and his tongue swipe languidly causing you to squirm. His large hands roamed their way to your thighs, holding you in place.

His half-lidded eyes gazed up at you as his tongue glided around in a circular motion. His blunt nails scraped against the meat of your thigh. His tongue trailed around your pussy, capturing your slick. Marc let out a hum of satisfaction, his hums reverberated against your cunt causing you to rut your hips against his mouth.

Your fingers trailed along with his curls as your nails scraped his scalp. Breathless moans escaped your plump lips. The padding of his middle fingers grazes your walls as your pussy flutters feeling his finger brush against your entrance trying to pull him in. Marc pushed into two fingers inside feeling the warmth of your pussy around his fingers.

Slick coated his fingers as his mouth latched around your clit again, his tongue twirling around. His fingers disappeared in and out of your cunt, curling them inside hitting the spot you needed the most. "Marc." You whimpered out.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers as his tongue went side to side. Your thighs shook against his grip, crying out his name. Marc stared at you through his lashes, the ache in his jaw was throbbing but it was worth it seeing you gasp and moan above him. The squelching sound of your pussy echoed off the bathroom walls along with your whines of Marc's name.

Marc closed his eyes in contentment. Drool trickled alongside the corner of his mouth as your slick coated his chin. He was happy that you gave him another chance because he was in love with your pussy. The taste of it, how it fluttered around his fingers; and how it will eventually feel around his cock. And he couldn’t live without you.

"I'm close." You whimpered out. Your walls pulsated around his fingers violently as you thrashed above him. Your thighs shook from the build-up pleasure as his tongue circled around the same spot over and over again. "Marc." A cry rippled out of you as you released on his fingers but Marc was an overachiever when it came to your pleasure; he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop because he was addicted to you. Everything about you was addictive. His eyes gazed up at you through half-lidded eyes seeing sweat glisten off your body. Soft sobs escape your mouth as your thighs kept shaking from the over-sensitivity.

His hands tighten around your thighs, holding you in place. Series of cries flood his ear, multiple times. Marc truly lost count of how many times he made you cum. His fingers were completely drenched from your release. The slick trailed down his arm, dripping to his lap —drenching his jeans.

"I can't handle the pleasure anymore." You whimpered out, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. "Please."

"You kept the ring on your finger." Marc lazily replied as his finger languidly went in and out of you. "So I get to make you cum as many times as I see fit. But since you asked nicely, I'll stop."

Marc removed his finger out of your pussy. The slick drooled from his finger to your cunt, once he pulled away the string of slick disconnected. He stood up and grasp your chin with his other hand. "You should taste yourself." His fingers inserted your mouth and you closed your mouth around his fingers, twirling your tongue around the padding of his fingers.

Your upper lip sucked the coated slick, closing your eyes in contentment. Marc felt his cock twitch in his pants seeing you suck off your release. Marc pulled his fingers away as he stared at you with a smile. "You look tired," Marc commented, brushing his thumb against your cheek, admiring you.

You shook your head. "No, I'm not. My pussy is aching for more."

"More?" Marc rose an eyebrow. "You're restless."

"I know. . .but I always thought of something we haven't tried yet." You captured your lip between your teeth.

Marc tilted his head. "What haven't we tried? Because we've tried bondage, food play, pain kinks, and among other things. I feel like we covered most sexual stuff."

"Yeah, we did all that but we're talking about making love this time and I think taking a shower together and making love in there is something we haven't done." You said sheepishly feeling your cheeks burn. Maybe it was a stupid idea. Maybe Marc was used to roughness, adventure, just pure fucking without love.

"Let me take care of you in the shower then." Marc smiled, bringing your face to his, and pressed his lips against yours. A sweet and tender kiss that you missed from Marc. He was a closed-off person, a person who was afraid to tell his emotions but his physical touches like his kisses, it was benevolent. It was his way of showing he loves you.

Marc helped you down from the sink counter. You felt you slick coat your inner thighs and you felt ready for a shower, and what was going to come in the shower. "Before we get in the shower, let me help you out of your clothes." You suggested, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Marc's lips tugged into a smirk as he raised his arms up. You pulled his shirt off, gazing down to his sculpted muscles as they contradicted, flexing underneath the fluorescent lights. You shamelessly licked your lips, smiling at him. "I'm lucky I got a hot husband."

For the first time in a long time, Marc's tan cheeks turned red. "Shut up." He muttered, grabbing your face between his hands. The padding of his thumb traced along the bottom of your lips as he tilted his head down pressing a heated kiss, pushing your body backward against the shower's door.

Your fingers fumbled against his belt, pulling it out of the pant hole. You unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down, with the curl of your fingers; you tugged his pants and underwear down. Your back shivered from the coldness of the glass as Marc stepped out of his jeans and underwear.

With one of your arms, you pressed your hand against the door pushing it aside. Marc carefully walked you inside the shower as he pressed your body against the cold tile. His cock rested between your legs, brushing against your cunt as he rutted his hips against yours. A moan escaped your lips as your hand fiddled around the wall to find the shower knob.

With one quick motion, you flicked the shower water on and the cold water sprinkled against yours and Marc's bodies. You shivered from the cold water as you let out a gasp against Marc's mouth feeling the water pour against your face. You opened your eyes to gaze at Marc.

Water fell over his head, messily flatting his hair. Trickles of water fell against his broad chest, falling down to his prominent V-line. He looked like a god underneath the shower's water. The padding of your fingers roamed against his sculpted chest, brushing down the center of his stomach to his V-line.

Marc shuddered as you traced your fingers along with his V-line feeling the water run against your fingers. Gliding your fingers down, you wrapped your hand around his cock. Your thumb brushed against the tip as he let out a low moan, closing his eyes half-lidded and gazing at you. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, baby," Marc whispered, lowering his head against your bruised neck and kissing softly along your wet neck.

His wet brown curls brushed against your cheek as you pumped his cock languidly feeling it twitch underneath your hand. You threw your head back against the tile as his mouth harshly sucked against the open spots where he didn't create bruises. Your other hand roamed against his muscles, mapping out the curves as your hands curled around his shoulder, holding yourself.

"I want you, Marc. All of you. I want your love." You muttered against the shell of his ear. "Please, give me all of your love."

"Yeah? You want my love?" Marc whispered. "You want my cum inside of you? Dripping out of your needy pussy?"

"Yes, Marc." You whined out, pumping his cock faster hearing him groan against your neck.

"I'll give you what you need." Marc purred, pulling your hand away from his cock as he lifted himself away from your neck. Water droplets fell against his neck, trickling down softly. The water pressure hit against him beautifully as his hands gripped your waist, pushing you against the shower door. His hand roamed against your outer thigh causing you to shiver from his cold hands from the shower as he propped your leg around his waist.

His cock rested against your stomach as he panted gazing at you with admiration. "God, you're so beautiful." He muttered, brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. "Do you prefer just me fucking you tonight or do you wish the others to join?"

You tilted your head as Marc rutted his hips languidly, brushing the underside of his cock against your clit. "I want all of you, Marc. Steven. Jake. Because I love every bit of you." You said quietly, brushing the padding of your thumb against his jawline. "I want you three to show me you love me. I want to feel all of your love, Marc."

Marc's lips tugged into a smirk as he shook his head. "Well, you're going to be sore in the morning, sweetheart." He commented, dragging his cock teasingly along your aching pussy as his tip tapped against your entrance. "Remember, you asked for this."

His cock sheathed into you with one quick rut of his hips. You let out a loud moan feeling his cock fill you up quickly to the brim. His lips found yours one again as your arms wrapped around his neck. The showered finally steamed with hot water, hitting against the side of you as you moved your hips against Marc's, meeting his pace.

Loud cries rippled from your mouth as his prominent hip bones rammed against yours at a rough pace. But this wasn't the usual rough pace of his after each argument. No, this was a rough pace where he's making sure you felt every ridge outlining of his cock going in you. Making sure that you knew that his cock belonged to you and only you. That his fulfilling promise of change was going to happen.

Marc was always a physical person with love and he was showing that with his pace. With his hot mouth against yours, his nose bumping against yours needy making sure you understand that he truly did love you. His hands roamed down against your body, mapping out every single detail that he loved about it.

Your back arched off the shower door as you pressed your breast against his broad chest. His hand roamed down your spine causing you to shiver as he pulled you closer to his body. His hand gripped around the curve of your ass and squeeze roughly. "You're not going anywhere because this pussy is all mine, got it?"

"Yes, sir." You muttered against his lips, letting out a whimper feeling his cock suddenly going inside of you slowly. The squelching sound of your overly wet pussy filled the air as his cock moved deep inside of you. You could feel every ridge of his length drag against your inner walls as his mouth formed around the bottom of your lip, biting down harshly.

You fluttered your eyes open seeing the water fall against his face as his eyes were half-lidded staring at you. "I love you," Marc said.

Your heart warmed as you genuinely smiled widely at him. "I love you too, Marc. And Steven. And Jake."

Marc chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as a throb in your core stretched as he plunged his cock back inside of you roughly. His prominent hip bones rammed against you as your cunt pulsated around his cock. He let out low moans, pressing his forehead against yours as he panted against your lips.

His blunt nails dug into the supple of your ass as you rolled your eyes back from the drunken pleasure from his cock. It wasn't only about pleasure but it was about the love he finally gave you that you longed for. "Are you all mine, baby?" Marc questioned against your lips as his hips fiercely paced against you.

You nodded. "Yes, I'm all yours. Forever, Marc." Your hand brushed against the nape of his neck. He could feel the cool metal of your ring brush against him. He smiled knowing that he hadn't messed up the relationship; that things could be mended if he tried. And he was going to try.

Marc couldn't get enough of you as he pressed his lips against your, needy. He was afraid that you were going to slip from his fingers again. And he took in his own drunken pleasure, mapping out every detail of your plump lips against his. An ache formed around your cunt as your walls pulsated around his cock rapidly. "I'm close, Marc."

"Cum for me, baby." Marc encouraged as he quicken his pace. His tip brushed against your cervix as he hit the same spot that he knew would make you cum quicker.

"What about you?" You breathlessly asked, meeting your hips against Marc's as pleasure was building in the pit of your stomach.

"Steven and Jake will do the job for me," Marc replied nonchalantly as he lowered his lips against the shell of your ear. "Now, cum, sweetheart."

Pleasure embedded throughout your body as a euphoric eruption filled your cunt. Your cunt pulsated around his cock as you let out a loud cry, releasing around his cock. Marc closed his eyes from the sensation of feeling your slick coat his cock as he let out a hum of satisfaction. "That's it, baby. Take what you want from me."

You languidly rutted your hips against his as your euphoric high went down. Pants filled the shower as Marc lifted his head away from you. Staring at him with half-lidded eyes, his thumb brushed away wet strands of your hair as he pressed a gentle kiss against your mouth. "Now, who do you want next to fuck you?"

"Surprise me." You replied with a small smirk.

Marc rosed his eyebrows. "Hmm, we'll see who'll come out first." His eyes fluttered and you waited to see who would come out first. You were excited to see who was next. Steven, the precious man was the sensitive lover but when it came down to fucking; he was surprisingly rough. As if your pussy was the only thing and the world and he aimed to please.

And there was Jake. With his sexual movements, there was always a surprise when he fucked you. You never knew what Jake was going to do next when he fucked you. With either Steven or Jake, you didn't care who came out. You wanted to be with the both of them.

His eyes fluttered once again and from being with all three men for months, you could always tell who fronted. And this time it was Jake who fronted. "Hi, mi amor." He greeted.

"Hi, Jake."

"Your pussy is already ready for me?" Jake teased, roaming his hands up to your neck as he roughly squeezed the sides. "Marc was too boring fucking you, are you ready for real fun?"

"I had fun with Marc." You countered.

"Oh, did you?" Jake's eyes possessed jealously as he narrowed them. "Then you will be screaming my name then. And we will see if you actually had fun with Marc."

With his hand on your ass, he pulled his cock out. Suddenly, you let an ache from not feeling his cock inside of you anymore. Quickly, he pressed your body against his chest as he roughly brought his lips against yours. His teeth scraped the bottom of your lips as he bit down harshly.

You let out a hiss as blood trickled from the wound that Jake treated. He lifted his head away from you, using the padding of his finger to graze the blood and smear it around. "I always did love blood on you, Hermosa." Jake grinned darkly as his dark eyes shined underneath the water. "God, I can't wait to feel your pussy."

Jake turned you around and firmly pressed you against the shower door. Your breast pressed against the cool glass causing you to softly grasp from how cold it was. Your left cheek rested against the glass as Jake admired your ass. His cock rested between the swell of your ass as his hands roamed around the supple of your ass.

With another hand, his thumb rubs over the puckered entrance of your cunt. He fleshed out the soreness of your aching cunt as you whined under his touch. "Ssh, it's okay, mi amor. You asked for this. You asked for Marc's and mine cock, next will be Steven if he's up for it. Don't worry, I will go rough and I will take what's mine." Jake's voice soothed out velvety but the meaning behind his words held malice.

Marc promised you to make love but Jake didn't hold that promise. No, of course, he didn't; he just wanted to fuck you and show his own way of love. Jake keeps your cheeks spread, slotting his cock between the tight space of the plump of your thighs. He removed his hand away from your sensitive entrance as he roamed his hand up.

His hand glided between the curve of your ass, mapping out the plumpness to the center of your back. Goosebumps formed underneath the padding of his fingers as his hand snaked around your shoulder blade, to your neck.

Jake lowered his mouth against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I want you to scream for me, mi Amor. I want to hear your cries only for me. If you ever try to take that ring off again, you will have a harsher punishment next time. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry." You whimpered out feeling his cock head push against your sopping folds. The mild pearls of pre cum smeared alongside your thighs and cunt as Jake sheathed his cock harshly inside of your aching cunt without a warning.

As Jake promised, a scream rippled from your throat as you firmly placed your hands against the shower glass trying to hold yourself as his frantic pace made your body hit against the glass. Jake smiled widely hearing your screams already.

His hands clamped around your throat tightly as white heat slicked your body with sweat. "That's what I want to hear, mi amor." He muttered against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to it as he pulled away, standing up straighter. The new change of pace from Marc to Jake was tremendous as you felt your legs shaking from how hard and fast his cock was going inside of you.

Every ridge of his cock wasted no space. He wasn't like a tease like Marc was. Jake wasted no time to edge you, he wasted no time to feel every pulsate of your cunt around him. Jake always got what he wanted, no matter what.

Water trickled down his chest, curving along the downside to his V-line. His body glistened underneath the fluorescent lights as water droplets dripped down his forehead from his brown curls. The jiggle of your ass bouncing against his prominent hip bones made Jake's eyes dilate at the sight. The cool shower water brushed against the heat of his skin, trickling down his prominent V-line.

The erupted screams filling the air, most likely waking up the neighbors was so worth it. His eyes flickered to the golden ring on your finger. He was wrong when he said you weren't his wife because you were all his. His world, his love, and his life. And to feel your walls pulsated around his cock, trying to milk to his release; Jake was lucky.

His eyes flickered to his reflection off the shower glass. Steven had his head back, moaning from the feeling of your pussy. Jake made sure that Steven was conscious during this fucking because he knew that Steven wouldn't join in the fun. Steven always the one to think of himself last and he knew you would be too tired after Jake fucking you, so Jake did a favor for Steven to make sure Steven could feel what he was feeling.

"Are you enjoying this, Steven?" Jake questioned.

Steven fronted for a moment, his hand squeezing your neck as he nodded. "Fuck, bloody hell. Yes." He moaned out. He pulled against your neck, pulling your back against his broad chest. He continued Jake's frantic pace as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder. "Fuck, darling. I'm sorry you waited for my arrival."

You raised your right arm, snaking the back of it around his neck. "Fuck, I missed you, Steven."

"I missed you too, darling," Steven muttered against your shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll have my turn soon. Jake is acting like a knob. I'll see you again soon, my love."

Jake rolled his eyes as he glided his hand against your thigh, holding it up as he went deeper inside of you again. Watching the water rush off your body enthralled Jake more, seeing the water trickle between the curve of your breast made Jake's eyes dilate. "I bet you had fun with Steven too, huh, little slut." Jake commented, shaking his head against the side of your neck.

"N. . .No." You lied.

"Don't you fucking dare lie to me," Jake commented, rutting his hips harshly against the swell of your ass. His hand glided from the side of your stomach, up between the valley of your breast to your neck. His large hand squeeze roughly as he forced your head back. "I could feel your pussy clench for Steven, I told you would be only screaming for me when I'm in control."

"I'm sorry." You blabbered out.

Jake sighed, shaking his head as his other hand roamed from your thigh to your sensitive clit. The padding of his thumb abruptly massages your clit causing you to cry out. "Jake please." You cried out. "It's too much."

Jake shook his head. "Nope, this is your punishment." The sneaky fucker set up the trap for you. He wanted you to enjoy Steven's fucking just so he could punish you. Jake Lockley was cruel in his own ways as well which excited you.

His thumb flicked around your clit side-to-side as you screamed his name out. The overwhelming pleasure was adding on from the water as it was becoming cold once again, hitting your body. Goosebumps formed around your body as your cunt pulsated around Jake's cock. The pleasure built up in your pussy as his cock sheathed inside of you frantically.

Your legs shook as you were getting close to your release. "I'm close." You cried out, resting your head back against his shoulder as Jake's tongue glided around the underside of your neck.

"Me too." Jake's teeth scraped your neck as his teeth bit down. Crescent-shaped formed on your neck as blood trickled out from a wound he created. You let out a hiss as tears formed in your eyes. The overstimulation of your pussy being abused from all three men was too much.

A euphoric pleasure took over your cunt as your thighs shook. A scream rippled from your throat as you cried out his name, releasing over his cock. Jake closed his eyes in contentment. "Fuck." He lowly moaned out, his cock twitched inside of you as he released his cum inside of you.

Jake rutted his hips languidly inside of you, making sure his cum stayed inside of you as he held you up with his hand around your neck. He removed his thumb away from your abused clit as he stopped rutting his hips. He let out a sigh of relief as he pulled his cock out of you.

The ridge of his length slowly left you causing you to whimper as slick coated his cock. Release drooled out of your cunt once he was fully outside of you. He stared and admired, watching the cum drip down to the tile of the shower. His eyes flickered to the reflection of the glass and saw Steven gazing down needy for a taste.

Jake sighed. "It's your turn, Steven."

Steven fronted, taking over as his knees fell against the harsh, cold tile. He shivered from the coldness as he brought his hand to your ass, pushing you against the shower glass. His tongue latched against your dripping cunt, twirling his tongue around the slick capturing the juices of you and Jake.

A whimper escaped your lips as your hands were firmly against the glass. "It's too much, Steven. Please." You whined out but it fell on death's ears as Steven just merely hummed, lapping his tongue in your entrance. His tongue prodding inside of your entrance feeling your walls pulsated around his tongue once again.

Steven closed his eyes as you shook above him, letting out broken sobs. You didn't know how many times you cum from the three men but it didn't seem like it wasn't going to ever stop tonight. His tongue curved inside of your cunt, mapping out each sensitive spot as his thumb massaged around your clit adding on to the pleasure.

Your body shook from how overstimulated you were. Your toes curled from the sudden pleasure as tears flooded your eyes. Steven was enjoying himself too much, tasting you and Jake as he swallowed the cum, humming at the taste. Steven was aiming to please and he always knew how to do a good job, pleasing you.

A cry ripples from your parted lips, his chuckles vibrate against your skin as his tongue frantically moves in and out of you. Trickles of slick and cum, coat against his chin, dribbling down the corner of his mouth. His skilled mouth licking and suckling over sensitive nerves as his tongue lapped over the same spot in your cunt feeling your walls pulsate around his tongue.

"Steven!" You cried out, pressing your cheek harshly against the glass letting out sobs as tears coated your cheeks. You screwed your eyes shut as your thighs violently shook. "I can't cum anymore." You sobbed. "Please."

"Just one more, darling then I promise I'm done," Steven replied, brushing you against your clit; pressing it harshly adding that extra pleasure that you desperately needed. You shook your head but your body complied, as your ass stuck out for him. "Good girl."

You were in a daze as his tongue and thumb worked wonders around your cunt. Perhaps you never should have taken the ring off because the three men were putting on a show. Showing why you should have never taken it off. The pained sobs of the mental exhaustion from earlier washed away; all you could think about was Steven's tongue inside of you.

Drool dribbled down the tile as Steven felt you coming near your orgasm. Your cunt fluttered as your thighs shook, toes curling from the euphoric sensation building up. "Fuck, Steven." You cried out as the pleasure that built up, suddenly washed over you as your walls fluttered violently as you sobbed out. Slick coated his tongue making Steven close his eyes, humming at the taste licking up every last drop of cum he could taste.

Steven stood up, holding your waist as he softly turned you around to face you. Your mind-fucked dazed eyes gazed at him, half-lidded. A weak smile spread on your lips as you took in deep breaths. "Hiya." Steven greeted, back to his normal self. "It's a bit cold in the shower, innit?"

You nodded, barely able to speak. "Let me change the temperature for you, love." His fingers curled around the shower knob as he fiddled with it to change the temperature. Hot water began to come out again and he sighed in contentment feeling the water hit his chest. "Are you okay, darling? Today was a bit. . .of a mess."

"I'm. . ." Finding your voice again, you cleared your throat stepping closer to the water as Steven made room for you. "I'm okay. I'm just tired. . .what about you? We didn't get to have sex."

Steven shook his head as his index finger tapped your nose lightly. "Don't worry about me, love. You get to have me fully on Wednesday. Our little Moon Knight Wednesdays." He wiggled his brows. Steven started calling his day Moon Knight Wednesdays because he used the suit during the times of fucking. "I see that you're tired."

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head at the man. "And I feel gross even though we're in the shower."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. Do you want me to wash you or. . ." Steven trailed off, trailing his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. He scratched the back of his wet hair as droplets of water fell over his forehead.

Under the water, Steven looked gorgeous. His soft brown eyes gazing at you, the tender smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The water cascaded down along his chest as the water was hitting from the back. "I want Marc to wash because I need to talk to him. We can have our shower fun on our Moon Knight Wednesdays." You teased.

Steven flushed as he nodded. He lowered his lips against your forehead, pressing a sweet kiss. His lips lingered there for a moment as he pulled away. His demeanor changed as Marc fronted, a soft smile played on his lips. "Come on, let's get you washed up while you talk to me."

You shuffled to Marc's spot as he switched spots with you. Marc grasp your shampoo and squirted a decent amount of substance on his hand. "Marc. . .I want you to tell me how you've been feeling about everything."

Marc stiffens as his hands rubbed together, then begin massaging your scalp. The liquid foam bubbled in your hair as Marc stared at your back. His eyes lowered to your back as he sighed. "I have to kill people." He muttered. "It's no different from before but I. . .I can't deal with it because I feel like a killer from when I killed my brother."

"You didn't kill him, Marc." You replied softly, closing your eyes as his fingers softly worked through your hair. "It was an accident."

"My mom thought differently," Marc murmured as his heart hammered in his chest. "She believed I killed him so I believe that as well. I harm people as Moon Knight. I harm you as myself because I'm scared of getting close to people." His voice cracked as his eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm just always so scared that I'm going to become my mother. I push you away because I'm just so afraid."

"Hey." You softly said, turning around to grasp his face between your hands forcing him to look at you. "It wasn't your fault. You will never become your mother. Never. You are Marc Spector, a person who secretly cares. A person who tries to hide himself from the world. You are beautiful. And you're my husband, I'm not going anywhere."

A smile widely played on your lips as tears flooded his eyes, falling down his cheeks. "Okay? I put on this ring and I vowed myself to you because you are my family. You are a piece of me that lives in me. My soul, my sadness, my grief, and most importantly, my love. I had nothing until I met you. Until I met Steven and Jake. We can get through anything because we're family, okay?"

Marc bit the bottom of his trembling lip as he contained back a sob. Tears trickled down the corner of your eyes. And for the first time, you cried together. There was no shame, no arguing, no judging. Just the two of you. "I'm so sorry." Marc broke down, pulling you closer, and buried his head at the crook of your neck. "I'm so sorry." He chanted many times as he sobbed loudly. "Ow, my eyes."

Marc pulled away as he tried to blink away the shampoo. "That ruined the moment, didn't it?" You weakly chuckled.

"It kind of did because my eyes aren't burning from emotions; they're in pain." Marc fanned his eyes. "Owww."

You laughed at him, as you stepped underneath the shower. "You didn't wash my hair, that's kind of on you, dude." You nonchalantly shrugged, wiping away your tears.

Marc sniffled as he blinked rapidly. "Yeah, that was on me. . ." He muttered with a soft smile. "I'm really sorry, baby. Thank you for staying with me. . . Jake says thank you as well."

"I will never try to leave again."

Marc smiled widely more as his hands gripped your hips watching the water pour over your shoulders. "Good because you're my world and I would kill the world for you. Don't ever try to leave again because you're my love as well. And I can't imagine a world without you." Marc pressed his forehead against yours as he brushed away wet strands of hair off your face. "I love you, Ms. Spector. . . And Ms. Grant. . .and Ms. Lockley."

"I love you too, Mr. Spector, Grant and Lockley."

There was silence for a moment. "Can you take me out for patrol?"

"No."

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awakefor48hours · 3 months

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Update: they’re now @dailyanimeships (I'm blocked so no tag there :/) but it's the same person. Update 2: they’re blocked again. Let’s celebrate

Hello everyone, I need your help getting rid of someone that's been harassing people (myself included).

This is the person in question and I need your help to get rid of them and stopping any future harassment.

Even if you're not in the Black Clover fandom, I would appreciate a moment for your time to read this. For a bit of context, if you haven't seen Black Clover, the main ship in the show is Astelle (Asta x Noelle). In the show, Noelle has a massive crush on Asta (think Amity to Luz/Marinette to Adrien/Hinata to Naruto/etc, etc). It's pretty clear that Astelle will be canon but sometimes canon doesn't matter and people ship different things. Now onto this whole shit show.

Harassing in DMs

To start off, they're basically every shade of bigot. My moots and I have gotten really nasty DMs from dailyasnoel and I'm going to censor them because there's pretty bad slurs in them.

The first one was sent to me and the second one was sent to @the-geek-librarian

We're both in a server and everyone in this server (nearly 15 of us) have been blocked. Keep in mind, not a single one of us had ever interacted with them in our lives. We've all tagged our posts properly and haven't said a single negative thing about Astelle or their blog. They went out of their way to send us these DMs with very hateful slurs all because we don't want the same fictional teenagers kissing.

Harassing others

This isn't even the first time that dailyasnoel has gone after people simply for just shipping Noelle with another character. These two, ramiliadoesstuff and kcuf-ad have also posted about been harassed.

Along with that, there is now a ship week for Kahonoelle (a femslash ship involving Noelle) being run by moot @t-f-t (Alex) and this was the response to the original post (a post that was tagged properly and no malice towards anyone) announcing this.

This could've just been the end of it but they felt the need to send an ask to Alex expressing their disgust because there's people who don't want the same fictional teenagers kissing.

Then there's this lovely comment on that post.

Guess who's going to be extremely annoying during Kahonoelle week. (BTW, wouldn't it be really funny if we got them off the internet before their shit ass Astelle week).

Fanfiction

This harassment isn't just on tumblr either, it's on AO3 too.

I scrolled through the Yunoelle (Yuno x Noelle) tag on AO3 and the comments on some of these fanfictions are so vile. There's so many hate comments and I didn't even screenshot all of them because there's so many of them.

I found comments left by people with the username "dailyasnoel" and other guest users with different usernames that make similar comments to dailyasnoel because I assume it's the same person.

Making the Devils Cry

Yuno and Noelle Oneshots

When the Sea Goddess Snaps

Hot Tub Accident

While scrolling the Yunoelle tag, I noticed that there's people who have started limited their comment section, have deleted comments with responses like "dude, calm down," or have made their fanfictions private.

And even as a little side note, I want to make it clear that I was able to look at every single Yunoelle fanfiction on AO3 because it's not even a popular ship. There's only 31 fanfictions for them so a lot of these fanfictions are written by the same authors. On the other hand, Astelle has been consistently the most popular ship in the fandom and even has the most fanfictions. So it's not even like Astelle fans are hurting for fanfictions or that Yunoelle fans are invading their spaces.

The actual blog

The icing on this queerphobic, harassing, racist cake is that they're an art thief. Their blog only has art and all of it is from other people. There's no indication these are reposts, there's no signs that they got permission to repost these, nor any links to the original posters. (original art links > 1/2/3)

If you know nothing about Black Clover or the fandom, I want to make this abundantly clear, this is behavior is unacceptable. This fandom has been very peaceful as of late and this one person does not speak for Astelle fans in the slightest. The Astelle fans I've interacted with are quite lovely, and if Asta or Noelle or Tabata (the creator) saw this, they'd be disgusted.

Whether or not you're in the Black Clover fandom is irrelevant. This is a horrible person and art thief, please report and block this person. Together, we can get rid of this person.

@dailyasnoel I know you have me blocked but if you happen to read this, I want you to know that if this small part of you that you show on the internet is even a modicum similar to how you behave in real life (joking or not), you are going to live a very sad and lonely life.

I hope you enjoy your own company because no one will want to be your friend, no one will support you, and above all else, no one will mourn you. Your absence will be treated with nothing but joy and whimsy because you are a sad and pathetic parasitic monster.

#best part about all this #dailyasnoel couldn't even be right #i don't even ship yunoeIIe #i ship kahonoeIIe #i headcanon yun0 as aroace #AND i do (guess i should say “did” now) like asteIIe #anyway prepare to feel the wrath of someone who barely makes minimum wage

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daddyy333 · 10 months

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In love | Chris Evans x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 0.6k

warnings: Chris is literally the biggest simp ever it’s gross

summary: Chris always loves to gush about his wife any chance he gets

“So, Mr. Evans I heard you got married recently,” the interviewer said and Chris blushed just thinking about you. He chuckled and said “I did, I did. Best decision of my life, I wish I could do it all over again”

He looked over subtly, watching as you posed for pictures on the red carpet. He was so damn lucky. “You kept a secret for quite some time I heard, you announced your relationship by posting a picture from your wedding day, correct?” The interviewer asked and Chris couldn’t help the smile and blush on his face.

“Yup. My favorite picture I’ll ever have, our first kiss as a married couple. We’ve been together 5 years and got married on your 5 years anniversary” he said and the interviewer nodded. She laughed a little and said “that’s beautiful, when did you propose?”

“New years. Told her I wanted to spend every new years with her and then got down on one knee. 2nd scariest day of my life, I was so scared she’d run away the day we got married. You know me, I’m an old man now and she could do so much better” he said and chuckled.

The interviewer scoffed and said “I’m sure there’s many people out there who’d disagree with that. You two seem perfect for each other, what’s your married life been like?”

“Nothing shy of perfection. I get to wake up next to the most perfect woman in the world and I get to love her every single day. The best part is that she loves me too. I wouldn’t trade her for the world” Chris said, looking over at you. You looked so damn beautiful, the sun shining on you and your beautiful eyes popping from the color of your dress.

“I’m the luckiest man alive to tell you the truth,” Chris said and licked his lips, his heart fluttering just remembering how amazing his life has been with you in it. The interviewer chuckled and said “must’ve been hard keeping this a secret for so long. You’re blushing so hard you match the carpet,”

He looked down nervously, laughing. He sighed and said “Any man would be if he got the chance to love her and be loved by her. I’ve wanted to scream it from the rooftops since the moment I laid eyes on her” he said and you suddenly walked over, hugging him from behind.

His eyes widened and he turned around, smiling wider. “Hey, lover. You look stunning tonight, babe, you have no idea,” he said, kissing you softly. You giggled and nugged him. “Finish your interview, Chris” you said and he shook his head.

“You two are just made for each other it seems. He’s been practically buzzing with joy since I mentioned you,” the interviewer told you and you rolled your eyes, blushing slightly. You sighed and said “gosh, he’s so annoying, isn’t he? I don’t know how I tolerate him sometimes,”

You giggled, looking up at him. He shook his head and said “yea, yea, yea. I wouldn’t trade you for the damn universe and yet you’d probably trade me in a New York minute” “oh that is so not true!” You said and slapped his chest playfully, all three of you laughing.

You smiled and kissed his cheek, then realizing that you were being called for your own interviews. “I’ll meet up with you when I’m done, try not to miss me too much” you said and caressing his hand for a moment before you left.

“Alright, well let’s talk about the new movie you two are in together…”

Taglist: @kandis-mom

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Ari Levinson

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans fluff

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delicatebarness · 1 month

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bring him home | chapter three (remastered)

Summary: It's been a year since the snap and Tony has only just found out.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Captain America: Civil War & Endgame? Grief. Mentions of Murder, Death, and Sex.

Word Count: 2049

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Here is the edited and extended version of Chapter Three. I am still incredibly sorry for the length of time it has taken me to release any more of this story. From now on, I hope to have a new chapter out every Friday.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD-PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE, IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

One Year.

The second most difficult day of your life. The first anniversary of the snap. Looking up, you read his name over again. ‘James Buchanan Barnes’. You made your way down to Brooklyn late afternoon, you had been to see the ‘Wall of the Vanished’ that has now been built in every city & county to memorialize the Vanished. Earlier that morning, you made your way to Manhattan and Queens to visit both Vision’s and Peter’s names.

The decision of the order had already been made for you before you left the compound. You saw Peter almost every morning before he vanished, whether it be a quick FaceTime before he left for school to ‘double-check’ his homework or get an update for any missions he might be assigned to. He never missed a day. Now, you weren’t going to either. 7:30 AM on the dot, you found his name. Right next to his Aunt May’s.

“Hey Kid,” Whispering as you looked around to see if anyone noticed you, literally talking to a wall. It wasn’t busy at this time, only a few friends and family members of the vanished were wandering around the names. Not a single one noticed you were there. “Can you believe it’s been a whole year since you went to space?” Smiling, you imagined how excited he would have felt once it hit him that he was actually in space. “Would have been cool if you came back though,” you began tracing over his name, memorizing the engraving. “I shouldn’t have listened. I should have been up there with you. If I had been,” Pausing to take a breath, you start to shake your head.

Stop. You think to yourself. Remembering you can’t change the past, no amount of wishful thinking or what ifs will bring them back. Yet, ever since your dad told you about how close they were to getting the gauntlet off Thanos, you haven’t helped but wonder. Maybe with an extra pair of hands, they would have got it off.

Before you knew it, the public was flooding around the walls. It was almost midday. Still, two counties to go. You did the same when you found ‘The Vision’ engraved into the stone in Manhattan, only this time, his name wasn’t among ‘The Vanished’. His name was registered as a ‘Fallen Hero’. Tracing his name, just like you had with Peter’s, you told him you missed and loved him. Wished he was still here. Regretted wasting time, over a silly government paper instead of standing strong as siblings, while he was here. And, of course, beat yourself up for still being here instead of him.

“You would’ve helped a lot more people than I ever can,” You spoke once again to a literal slab of stone. “I should have stayed in that room with you, I should never have stayed on the field. You needed me and I wasn’t there. Some big sister, huh?”

Stopping yourself again, you reminded yourself of a time when you’d hear his voice in the earpiece of your first-ever suit. Telling you specs, reminding you to speak nicer to yourself when you weren’t getting it first try. Back when he was known as Jarvis and wasn’t entirely Vision.

You stood in silence for the remainder of your time in Manhattan. Nothing you had to say wasn’t something Vis didn’t already know. Just being there, was enough and you hoped that somehow he knew.

You couldn’t speak the whole time you stood staring at his name. There was no ‘what ifs’ or tracing his name. Anger, denial. You could feel yourself taking steps back in your grief process. No, if you stayed or if you went. You knew when it came to Bucky, there was no other option. No other way to change the story. If you had changed anything with Peter or Vision, Bucky would still be here. But you didn’t.

It was starting to get dark and more people were beginning to leave. For the first time that day, you allowed yourself to cry. No scenario you thought of would have allowed you to both fight by his side and allow him to survive. All you had was regret, regret for keeping him a secret. Regret for not visiting Wakanda as much as you should have. Regret not telling him more often how much love you had for him.

Surrounded by Goats.

“How did Tony take it? You know finding out about us being, well, us?” He questioned as he looked out to the Wakandian water, your head resting on his lap while you read. Sighing, you put your book on the picnic blanket and rested on your knees. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair back behind your ear as you looked away from his face and toward where once hung his mechanical arm.

“He doesn’t know.” Playing with a loose thread on his sling as you whispered the confession to him. Desperately trying to look up at his face, fear of his disapproval and hurt for keeping him a secret.

“What? Wait, you haven’t told him?” Bucky cupped your face with his hand, moving you to look at him. “Where does he think you are?” Realising it was panic in his voice and not hurt or upset, you move your hands around, gesturing towards Wakanda. “Why does he think you’re here?” He then rose to his feet, you rushed to join him.

“I told him I’ve been coming here to meet up with Shuri,” You smiled remembering how grateful you were to T’Challa for opening Wakanda to the world, not only helping provide resources to other countries but also for giving you an excuse to tell your dad. “We’ve been working on a tech thing,” you move your hand over Bucky’s armless shoulder. “Which, isn’t a lie.” His hand found its way to your lower back, pulling you closer to him as you fidgeted once again with the loose thread on his sling. Dropping his head, his forehead rested against yours. Your breathing was now in sync.

“You just left out the part about sleeping in a hut, surrounded by goats, with an armless 100-year-old man?” He whispered the secret so quietly, you were barely able to hear him yourself. Smiling, you nodded, your noses brushing against each other as you did.

“I left out the part about sleeping in a hut, surrounded by goats, with the man I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with.” Your whisper was just as quiet as his, so quiet it took you both a second to realize what you said. It was the first time, neither of you had said that four-letter word to each other. Once you had a second to think, you opened your mouth to speak. You wanted to take it back, fear crept in of him not saying it back to you or worse. Before you could do one single thing, his lips were pressed against yours. His hand had moved from your lower back to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against it as he tried to pull your mouth closer.

“I have been alive for 100 years, I have seen every type of love this world has to offer. But Doll, there’s nothing in this universe that could compare to the love I feel for you.”

It Still Wants Him.

“I lost a lot of loved ones,” you sighed as you looked around the small circle of group members attending today. “I lost a lot of friends, co-workers, and my brothers. I thought I had lost my dad at first, and I also lost the love of my life.” You hadn’t realised your dad was standing in the shadows of the entrance. His head was down as he listened to his child heartbroken over loss. The one life experience he couldn’t protect you from or heal. He wanted to see how your idea was working out, he wanted to see how you were helping people while you have not yet been helped.

He was shocked to hear you say “love of your life.” He racked his brain on who you could be talking about, as far as he was aware, you didn’t care about romantic relationships. The others in the group knew who you were, and knew you lost friends, family, co-workers, and brothers. Yet, they too were just as confused as your dad had been to learn this information. They had never seen you in any tabloids concerning romance. Surprisingly considering who raised you.

They were asking all the same questions your dad was thinking. “What was their name?” “When did you know they had disappeared?”

“His name was James,” No, your dad thought, it can’t be. “Everyone knew him as Bucky, but, he liked it when I called him James.” He stared at you through the shadows, debating if he should storm in and demand to know the truth. He didn’t need to, you carried on speaking. Freely, opening up about it all, all he could do was listen. “And, I watched him disappear after fighting Thanos.”

“I have never met anyone like him in my life. So calm and patient. It felt like a connection the second our eyes met for the first time. He was funny, charming, and just all-around a nice guy. He had a lot of trauma but he worked hard to grow from it. He meant more to me than anyone could imagine.” You sighed, rubbing your left arm subconsciously. “There were many tough times at the beginning, especially when you consider how we met and the complexity of us just knowing each other. But, I couldn’t imagine anyone else filling the space in my life like he did. I wished for him to be the man I grew old with, built a home with, possibly had children with.” You wiped a tear that started falling with your shelve. This was when you noticed your dad, you made direct eye contact with him and you had never felt so small under his gaze. Disappointment. That’s what you were. “Anyway,” you choked as you carried on, not dropping his gaze. “I knew us being together would have hurt so many people. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do. But, the heart wants what it wants and my heart wanted him.” This was when you dropped his gaze and looked around at the fellow group members. “It still wants him.”

After the last member had left the sports hall of Midtown, you followed them into the school's parking lot. You lifted your head to notice your dad leaning against your car with his hood up. With a deep breath, you walked towards him.

“I don’t want to hear it.” You spat before he could open his mouth, you tried to open your car door but he slammed his hand against it. “Dad, please, I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re sleeping with a murderer.” It was as if he hissed at you with anger, spat like venom as he looked down at you.

“I’m a murderer!” Yelling back at him your breathing began to quicken. “And in case you forgot what happened a year ago, I’m not sleeping with him anymore.”

“Y/N he killed-“

“I understand you’re still hurting, Dad. I would be too if it was you and Pepper.” He saw the pain you still carried from only ever hearing stories about them, never getting to meet them yourself, in your eyes. There was also the love you had for a man you grew to know as himself and not the killer. “But, it wasn’t him. Surely, with that genius mind, you’d be able to comprehend that.” His head dropped with a sigh. “He loved me, he was kind to me, he made me happy. Isn’t that enough for you as my dad? Not as an avenger or a son? Just, my dad?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Looking back up, reaching his hand out to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. “You to be happy.”

“I miss him, Dad, I miss him so much.”

He pulled you into his arms placing a hand on your head, allowing you to sob into his chest.

“I know, Kid, I know.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #catws #dad!tony stark x daughter!reader #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark #the avengers x reader #the avengers #bucky fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

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danibee33 · 5 months

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hostage

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (goes by “Saint”)

based on a post by @call-me-doll-face! your vision for this song (“hostage” by Billie Eilish) was just too perfect😭 I couldn’t get it out of my head. I hope you love it as much as I do.

tags: angst & smut, ok it’s very angsty, did I cry? yes

word count: 5.7k (sry I got carried away)

+++

The files strewn across your desk only come back into focus at the sound of three crisp, concise knocks on your door. You blink away the dryness, eyes darting toward the open window to see its pitch dark outside now- shit.

Two more knocks resound through the room, they're a little more forceful this time, urging you to push away from the organized chaos, crossing the short span on tingling feet. You hadn’t meant to lose track of time like that, but after the debrief you needed something to distract you, get your mind off the bitter taste the meeting had left in your mouth-

“Target’s in the wind after the attack in Yemen-”

You change the map, zooming in on a tiny Bedouin village- the settlement no more than a speck in the vast desert, “But we’ve intercepted and translated some chatter from local law enforcement that are on Abaza’s payroll.” – the room goes dark for half a second before the next slide flashes on the screen- “Seems he’s following his pattern of hiding behind civilians.”

The room is silent, save for the rapid clicking of Soap’s pen against the desk- one of the restless man’s many tics, and Price’s furious scribbling. Gaz is eyeing the map studiously, his lips twitching as he muses through the routes and planning- no doubt trying to predict what the Captain will do.

Ghost is just.. Looming. Perched in his usual corner, arms crossed over his chest as he contemplates the information and intel given, eyes lazy and half-lidded even when Price stands, coming to stand at your side.

“Bloody good work, Saint.”

He pats your shoulder, taking over your spot as you settle in a seat at the table, and you try to listen intently- short-handing a few notes you might have missed as the Captain dives into the plan. The others pitch in ideas along the way, logistics and safety for the civilian population; but, it was extraction that gave you pause.

“There will be no cover- that encampment is too exposed.” You only realize you had spoken the thought out loud when you hear a soft huff from behind you,

“Very perceptive, Sec.” Ghost grumbles, his usual sarcasm somehow thicker, more exasperated.

Could you have held back your overly dramatic eye roll? Of course. But it’s fucking Ghost, and all you can hope is that he sees it- just like you know he sees your middle finger held up over your shoulder.

He knows you hated the way he ignored your call sign in favor of using the belittling, diminutive of your rank instead. It’s always been ‘Sec’ for him, short for Second Lieutenant, never one to let you, or anyone else, forget that he outranks you-

But, you’re used to it. That’s just the relationship you and him have had from the start, always this brutally competitive tension between you- which never made sense to anyone else. Especially considering your specialities are on opposite ends of the spectrum, each of you serving your own unique role to make the team function and perform like the well-oiled machine it’s been honed into.

And, to be honest, you’re not sure why you ever let him get under your skin either. You’ve worked with plenty of egotistical superiors and subordinates alike, and it’s never stopped you from reaching and surpassing every single goal you set for yourself. If anything, it’s only pushed you to work that much harder- usually at the cost of any sort of personal life, which is actually how you got your callsign-

“Saint” - ‘the only officer in the SAS who might make it to heaven’

You thought it was silly, but over the years it grew on you. And now, it just feels like what your name has always been, even if everyone knows you rarely make it far in the military by being an actual saint-

“Yes, extraction will be the most difficult part-”

Price’s voice brings you back to the present moment, head snapping up when you sense the giant presence standing next to your chair, “It’s a two-person job, then?”

Ghost’s voice has lost all its amusement and sarcasm, and his gaze feels heavier somehow as he looks over the screen. You watch him for a moment, catching all the nuances in his outward body language that are so imperceptible to others- though, you sometimes wish you weren’t so in tune with him. Wish you didn’t know exactly why you could pick up on these things when no one else could..

“That’s what I was thinkin’-” Price nods, looking between his two sergeants, “Soap, you’ll be second, running interference with some well place distractions?”

You watch Johnny practically vibrate with excitement, shooting you and Ghost a wink,

“Ka-freakin’-boom, baby. You an’ me, LT. The dream team!”

But again, you notice Ghost’s lack of snarky response, verbally and non-verbally, it unnerves you-

“Saint, you’ll be with them-”

“No.”

It takes you a second to react, not sure if you had heard it correctly- maybe you had missed something and he had barked the word over another matter entirely. But then, you hear Gaz and Soap be dismissed, and suddenly you’re standing beside Ghost, you and Price speaking the same question at the same time,

“No?”

Ghost shrugs, refusing to look down at you, “Don’t need ‘er there, Boss. Nothin’ she can’t feed us over radio.”

“First, I’m right here- and second, you don’t get to decide what I can or can’t do-”

Price looks at you, his expression only hinting at confusion as he watches you cross your arms now, mirroring your lieutenant's posture, “Captain-”

Something flashes through the stormy blue of his eyes then, something you can’t even begin to place. But it doesn’t really matter, because you don’t get to finish your protests- cut off instead by an apologetic hum,

“He’s right, Saint-”

“What!?”

You’re not in the business of challenging authority, at least not the authority of a man you genuinely respect like John, but you can’t help it- this wasn’t the first time you’ve been benched, and you know it’s not the first time it’s been Ghost the one ordering it.

Price glances at his watch before scrubbing a hand over his face, “Bloody hell-”, he rounds up the files and tucks them under one arm, holding his mug with the other, “We’ll finish this later, clear?”

Just like that- he’s gone. And you’re left with the suffocating shadow still staring at the image on the wall,

“Don’t take it personally, Sec.”

Your hands clench and unclench, nails leaving stinging little crescents in your palm before turning on your heel, “Fuck you, Ghost.”

You know who’s on the other side of your door. You always do. It’s been your routine for the last year and half- You do have to give it to the insufferable fucking prick for coming to you so soon after what he had done, though.

But, sure enough, the door swings open and there he is. Simon Riley, towering in your doorway, covered head to toe in a black hoodie and dark jeans, his face even further obscured under the hood- all you can see clearly are his eyes. And they’re intensely focused on you.

“Don’t worry, Price called.” You say, leaning against the frame-

He gives you nothing, seconds ticking by as he stands there like a statue, slowly scanning your face like he’s done a thousand times before. It used to make you uncomfortable, how he would look at you that way, like he was peeling you open, layer by layer- and it still does, like now. But, you’ve gotten used to his idiosyncrasies, at times even find them oddly endearing, if he weren’t such a dick.

“Can I come in?”

A sigh fills the air between you, followed by you glaring up at him- you want to say ‘no’, give him another big ‘fuck you’ middle finger and slam the door in his face; maybe even say fuck your arrangement all together, because now it’s becoming a pattern, him sidelining you.. But, you do none of those things. Because it’s him. Always fucking him.

So, you roll your eyes and turn back into the room, not bothering to invite him in because he knows the open door is your way of allowing it.

Instantly, your cozy abode feels ten times smaller and a hundred times warmer with him in it- it causes your skin to flush and your fingers to twitch, that restlessness you tend to feel when you were alone with him, crawling over you, burrowing itself in your chest.

“You’re mad.”

“Very perceptive, Ghost.” You throw his words from earlier back at him, crossing your arms because you honestly never knew what to do with your hands when you talked to him.

They always wanted to reach out for him- you were no better than Pavlov’s salivating dog when it comes to Simon fucking Riley. He had trained you so well without ever even having to try.

God, you hate him. And you hate yourself even more for know that’s not true in the slightest- “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doin’ what?” He shifts on his feet, fists still shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie.

You throw your hands up, “Benching me like this! There’s no reason I shouldn’t be on the ground with you and Soap, just like I usually am.”

“There’s no reason you should be, either.”

That awful itch creeps down your spine, tickling your legs and feet. The need to move, to exert some kind of energy before you implode forcing you to pace. You’ll never understand him, no matter how much time you spend together, or how many nights you waste sweaty and clinging to each other, words never meant for the waking world spoken between you- you will never understand him.

Never understand why he can’t just be hot or cold, why he can’t just be mean to you all the time, because at least that way it would be easier to separate what is, and what isn’t.

“You said this wouldn’t change things- I’ve held up my end of the deal. But you.. We can’t do this if you’re going to jeopardize my career.” Simon watches you just as intently as before, eyes tracking your war path back and forth, “I mean, I know we’re competitive and petty, but I didn’t think you would start fucking blacklisting me-”

That seems to catch his attention, head perking up, “That’s not what I’m doin’, Sec-”

“Well then enlighten me, lieutenant.” You spit back, eyebrows furrowing when you see him reach for you.

He gently tugs you closer, gloved hand wrapped around your forearm- closer and closer until you can feel that unbearable heat he exudes, smell the spice of his cologne, the one he only ever seems to wear when he comes to your room. Like he wants to lay claim to you somehow-

“Don’t..” The command comes out without even a hint of conviction, his finger tilting your chin back,

“I don’t want to talk, Saint. Please, not right now.”

It must be comical, how wide your eyes grow at the sound of your callsign in his gruff voice, the way he breathes the small plea- something you’ve never once heard him say. You just barely catch the way his eyes crinkle at the very corners in your stupor. The audacious bastard is smiling like he knows you would melt for it.

He knows you so well.

But the smile isn’t mean, it isn’t to spite you like he does sometimes- no, this feels warmer, like you could reach out and wrap yourself in it.

“Simon.. This isn’t good for us.”

“For us?”, he leans down then, the arm around your waist pulling you close enough to feel his covered lips on your neck, “Or for you?”

Your exhale feels labored and too heavy in your lungs, cursing yourself over and over for how effortless it is for him to unravel you. How just the feeling of his big hands splayed out over your ribs, slowly traveling up and down your body, makes your legs weak- and the heat of his breath condensating on your skin has the familiar pressure steadily growing low in your belly- begging for more.

When he pulls the mask off this time, you can’t help but notice the gentility in his expression. A certain relaxed nature about it that seems so out of place for him. Most of the time, when you would find each other at the end of the day, he would be frustrated or annoyed, or he would be carrying that familiar brand of apathy written all over his face.

Not that it never cracked, you’ve gotten the privilege of seeing him show softness, even if it’s in his own way. A playful wink here and there, a genuine smirk that would reach his eyes for a fleeting moment, or when you got to see the deep dimples on either cheek- the ones that give his features an almost boyishly handsome quality.

But right now, you swear he looks.. content.

And when he kisses you, it’s languid and sweet- the softer skin of his lips contrasting to the way his five o’ clock shadow scratches your chin and mouth. He kisses you like you have all the time in the world, like there’s no place he would rather be than right here, tangling his fingers in your hair- tasting your tongue as it dances around his.

It confuses you, because this is not how it’s supposed to go. There’s rarely ever time for such thoroughness, not that Simon wasn’t incredibly adept when it comes to giving pleasure- it just tended to be like a flashfire, like throwing a lit match into gasoline, volatile and explosive. That’s what you agreed on though, agreed to use each other- use your attraction merely as a means to an end. Blowing off steam. There’s no need to be soft and languid when you could just take the emotion out of it all together.

And that’s just how you’ve always assumed it is for him. You’ve never minded, not really- you were a smart woman, reasonable and logical, but.. You were still only human. Of course you craved that connection, the physical touch; you would never admit that you wanted him to hold you until you fell asleep afterwards, that you wanted to run your fingers through his hair, or memorize every delicious curve and vein and scar on his body-

No, that would mean you thought of him beyond sex, and that was very strictly forbidden.

He walks you backward, lips and hands never straying far as you take turns undressing the other- his shirt is on the ground first, giving you not nearly long enough to revel in the sight before yours is being lazily pulled over your head.

The backs of your knees hit the bed frame, which feels like a reprieve at this point with how utterly weak you feel in his arms; so, you let yourself sink into the foamy cushion, casting your eyes upward for only a second as you quickly work at his belt.

You’re forced to stop though, leaning back when he moves, crowding your space by bending over you on the bed and propping himself up with a massive arm on either side, his face close enough to graze his nose over yours, “You in a rush tonight, baby?”

Petulantly, you lift your chin- capturing his bottom lip between your teeth, you give it just enough of a bite to hear him hiss before laving the tender spot with your tongue. But before you can kiss him again, before you can pull him down on top of you, or your hands can make their way back to his buckle- he easily lifts you up, placing you further back on the bed.

“Simon, what are you doing?”

The question comes out more harsh than you were going for, but he’s not making any fucking sense, and you feel like a top wound too tight, overly conscious of the slick staining your underwear, and the ache in your core that only he can fix-

And maybe for a second, you see a flash of anger in his eyes, standing at his full height while you stare up at him,

“What does it look like we’re doin’, Sec?”

You huff out a incredulous laugh, scooting off the mattress- eyes searching the floor for your shirt, hell, anything to cover up with,

“Oh. Back to Sec, huh?”

Scrubbing a palm over his face, he watches you purposely not look his way, “Fuckin’ hell, do you always have to have it out with me? Can never just let it be-”

“Let it be?”, shirt be damned, you turn back to face him- “Let what be, exactly, Ghost? This is how it’s been for over a year. I mean, fuck, longer than that! You hated me, I hated you- it was perfect. We could fuck each other, and it meant nothing-”

“Past tense.”

He cuts you off, and you feel like you might actually throw something until your brain finally registers what he said,

“What?”

“You’re usin’ the past tense.. ‘Hated’, ’meant’.”

You shake you head, hands coming up before plopping limp at your side, “What the fuck are you on about?”

When he takes a step forward, you take one back, “Words are important, love..” – another step closer, another step away, “‘Hated’ implies that you did, but you don’t anymore.”

“What is this? A language arts lesson?” You try to bring back that anger, that bitterness, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice is lower, brassy and rich- it’s hard to feel anything other than him.

A wall halts you, your bare skin protesting against the cold, smooth surface. You wish it would swallow you whole. But, he gets closer, and you’re still there, once again looking up at him,

“I don’t hate you, Saint. I’ve never hated you..” The back of his finger carves a slow path over your cheek, his head tilting to the side, “You were right though, about this not bein’ good.. But not for us- for you.”

“Ghost- I..”

“I’m not good for you. Never have been- I came into this selfishly, thinkin’ that it would be easy, that you would be like all the rest, get tired of me when I wasn’t able to give.. enough. And then it would be over.”

You’re held rapt by his admission, hanging on to every syllable- because you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say so much at once. And certainly never imagined it would have to do with the way he feels about you, bad or otherwise.

“Why did you stay?”

It’s because you’re so lost in the novelty of him in this moment, that it takes an awkwardly long few seconds to realize that you need to actually answer the question-

“I stayed..” — you blink, fighting to make your racing thoughts make sense, “Because you never tried to trick me- or be anything other than what you are, Simon. It was- is, enough. You’re enough.”

His eyelids flutter, a deep, soothing sigh blowing through his nose as he turns away- almost composing himself, in a way, if you know him as well as you think you do,

“You never wanted anythin’ more?”

“No.” You say, and it’s not a lie, you could leave it there- but there’s just something in his eyes that’s begging for more- “Not at first.”

“But now?”

“What do you want me to say, Simon? Of course, I want more. It’s kind of hard not to when you’ve had what we have, had sex with a person, and only that person, for over a year-”

His eyes widen, pupils consuming the honeyed amber that surrounds them right before his lips catch yours in that bruising sort of kiss you know so, so well. It’s full of every single thing he can’t put words to. And for a moment, he nearly gets lost in it, that finely threaded tether on his control slipping further and further- control he’s never been good at reining in when it comes to you.

***

I whisper your name, letting the taste of it linger over my tongue as I try to pull away, try to prolong every second I can get- quietly pleading with you to just slow down. Because I know what comes after-

But the way you chase after my lips, your nails clawing at me, my skin burning under your touch- fucking hell.

You shouldn’t be here, should’ve never agreed to this, with me. You’re too good for someone so broken. You have so much life to live, and I hate that you’ve wasted even a moment of it caring for me- wanting me.

Hm.. Saint. How fucking perfect- because only a saint could bring a devil to his knees.

And that you did. With every lingering touch, and every sweet smile you gave me, everytime you moaned my name, I let you in deeper and deeper. Until I started to hate when you left, hated that I only felt whole when I had you in my arms-

No, I’m no good for you.

Because if I had it my way, I would want to hold you hostage here, right where you belong. Where the world couldn’t touch you, couldn’t hurt you.

I would want you to crawl inside my veins, live in my bones- like you don’t already own the terrible void that’s been in my chest for longer than I can remember.

Might as well take it all. It’s as good as yours anyway.

I love you. I can’t say it- that wouldn’t be fair to you. My love is tainted and ruined, a blasphemous and dangerous thing- it’s only ever killed those I’ve given it to. So, I won’t curse you with those words.

But I hope you can feel it.

“Simon.. Please-” You frame my face in your hands, tugging at my hair, “I want you.”

***

Hearing his name, or maybe it’s the traitorous desperation in your voice, urges him to act. A small squeak escapes when he lifts you up, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms looped over his neck,

“I’m yours.”

It stuns you, how fluid and thoughtless he says it, like it’s nothing, like he’s said it a hundred times before. Like he didn’t just tell you exactly what you had mindlessly dreamed of hearing from him for months now.

He doesn’t pause though, kissing you again, swallowing your thoughts in his lips- and time slows as your back sinks into the covers. The comfort of his weight settling over you, his hips nestled between your thighs. It’s all so much, too much and not enough at the same time; but you think you could stay here forever, pinned under him, be the object of his desire for as long as he wanted, have him tell you that he’s yours over and over-

The bed dips as he breaks away, working your button and zipper open with practiced movements-

“Lift up, baby.”

You lift your hips, helping him gently tug your cargo pants down before standing and stripping out of his own. And like so many times before, you can’t help but to very disrespectfully let your eyes rake over his bulky frame- your bottom lip trapped between your teeth,

“Jesus, Simon.. That’s not fair.”

“Not fair for who?” He coos, crawling over you again, pressing chaste kisses over your torso as he goes.

A sharp gasp echoes when he latches onto your nipple, his teeth grazing across the sensitive bud, the thrill of blissful pain simmering through you-

“It’s just not fair..” You whine, back arching as he does the same thing to your other, the wet skin cooling too quickly when you feel him chuckle.

“‘M sorry, lovie.”

He teases you for what feels like an eternity, having learned your body better than you know it yourself anymore- only Simon knows how to turn you into putty in his hands, make you soft and pliable, keening and whimpering, a teary eyed mess. And usually he never takes it so far, never ruins you so thoroughly before you’ve even had his cock- but tonight he does.

Tonight, he seems determined to map out every inch of you, even allowing you to do the same in small doses. He lets your fingertips trace over his scars, lets your lips kiss all the broken parts of him-

“Will you tell me about them one day?” You ask, the question muffled against his neck.

It’s an innocent inquiry, honest and genuine, but you don’t miss how he tenses above you before pulling away just enough to see your face. Maybe if you knew him better, had more time with him like this, you would be able to discern the anguish in his eyes- but you don’t see it. Even though you’ll remember it.. this particular moment, it will stick with you far beyond just tonight.

“One day.”

You aren’t sure why you don’t believe him.

All too quickly the thought is lost when you feel him readjust, leaning up on his knees- and your mouth waters at the view, how his chest heaves, already covered in a satiny sheen of sweat; how he strokes his length before looking down to watch how he sinks into you, how you take him so fucking perfectly-

Just like in everything else tonight, he moves at an achingly languid pace- thrusting forward inch by inch, and pulling out just as slow- reveling in the way your slick glistens, all for him.

“Simon..”, you reach for him, needing him close, needing more, “Mh.. Simon- please..”

He comes to you, lets you pull his face down to yours, “Please what, baby?”

When he pushes into you again, it takes your breath away, your muscles clenching as he drives right up against the fleshy wall of your cervix, “You want more?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut until you feel him cradle your face, “Mm-mm, I want you to look at me, Saint.. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

Without another thought, you open them, your brows knitting together as you search his face. You expect to see something close to his usual bravado, maybe even a devious smirk, or a wolfish gleam; but it’s none of those things. His expression is one of longing and adoration- his demand wasn’t being made out of a desire to control you, he simply wants to see you.

He wants to be seen.

“Ok, Simon..”, you place your hand over his, turning into his palm to plant a kiss to the rough skin there, “On you.”

His next thrust is harder, causing your legs to tighten around him- and even when he finally gives in, driving into you faster and deeper, each time hitting that spot that has you clenching and whimpering, he still holds your face, still keeps his eyes steady on you- entranced at the way you fight to keep your own open for him.

“That’s it.. fuck-” He grunts, crushing his lips to yours, “My good girl.”

The praises he whispers next are far sweeter than anything he’s ever said before, punctuated and interrupted by his own breathless moans. His words and each building noise he gives only drives you toward your end- dragging him right along with it until you’re both falling over the edge.

And it’s your name he says as he spills deep inside you, your name said again like an answered prayer when you hug him closer- both of you holding onto the other like if you let go for even a second, you might drift away.

“I’ve got you..” You say it without really knowing why, but knowing that it feels right. Knowing that he has you, too. At least in this moment- and that’s enough. He’s enough.

How long you stay that way, you can’t be sure- long enough for your bodies to grow limp and the sweat on your skin to dry before he finally peels himself away. And you could cry from the abrupt absence of his warmth, his weight, him.

Thankfully, he’s back just as quick, a warm cloth in hand and a tender touch to clean you up- which isn’t new, Simon’s always taken the time for aftercare, but it’s never felt so.. intimate. He goes about it just as tenderly and thoroughly as he had causing the mess in the first place, his eyes never leaving your skin, lips pressing sweet kisses nearly every place he wipes.

It pulls at you, the pesky prickling of tears stinging your eyes again. Because you know there must be a reason for his stark change tonight- but, you just can’t bring yourself to break the moment by asking why.

He stays with you. It’s not an entirely spoken agreement, he doesn’t ask and you don’t suggest, but when he slips back into the covers with you, you certainly don’t complain. You let him pull you under his arm, smiling into his chest when he kisses the top of your head,

“Good night, Simon.”

You hear him take a deep breath, the muscles under your cheek relaxing as he exhales just as deep and long, “G’ night, Saint.”

***

Watery rays of sunlight wake you, the glow behind your eyelids rousing your mind enough to realize the spot beside you is vacant, the sheets long since cooled. It doesn’t bother you, not really, it’s just Simon. The only clues he left to prove last night wasn’t just some fucked up dream being his scent, still lingering so heavily on his pillow, and the blissful ache between your legs.

And you wish you could stay here, covered in the blankets, wrapped in his smell, reliving the vivid memories as they flash through your head- his words replaying on a loop in your ears.

I’m yours.

But your alarm has other plans, your chosen vocation entirely undeterred by your relationships woes and break-throughs. Just another day, right? You would see him at the morning debrief, and again for range training- nothing changes externally. But everything had changed on the inside, for you anyway.

Is it wrong to hope it had for him, too?

You go about your morning routine, joyfully unaware of the decisions made without your knowledge, of the actions taken and the consequences that would follow- you hum along to your music, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

What a lovesick fucking fool you are.

It’s only when you’re reaching for your phone and keys from the desk that you see the piece of paper, carefully ripped from your own notepad and the silver metallic glint sticking out just beyond the corner.

You don’t recall the next seconds, or minutes- not really even the next hour. It all feels like that soft whooshing of TV static, endless and without form. And you find yourself begging for it to have been a dream, silently hoping that none of it really happened, that he hadn’t knocked on your door, that you hadn’t let him in.

That you hadn’t given him everything, and you hadn’t let him convince you he was yours.

Still stuck in that awful whooshing, you grip the piece of metal so hard you think the impression of his name might just brand itself into your palm, your boots stomping against the tile as you pass by all those familiar doors-

“What is this?”

Price looks up at you, and that dreadful nausea settles in the pit of your stomach when you see the resignation in his eyes.

“Saint-”

“When did they leave?”

“0400.”

They could already be there- Price wouldn’t let him do this.. Right?

“Recall them then, there’s still time. We’ll-”

He gives a long sigh, lips set into a thin line, “This might be our only shot, Saint. It’s not perfect, but there’s still a chance.”

***

There was never a chance.

Two weeks later, you stood on the tarmac- hair whipping violently in the wind as you watch the plane land. You stay there ,silently partaking in your own morbid, self-loathing vigil, still somehow hoping it isn’t true.

But there he is.

Simon Riley. His pine coffin draped with the flag he had fought for.

You watch Soap do his best, limping alongside it, his arms shaking and his eyes stained with tears. He gives you a hug afterward, whispering that he tried, he tried to bring everyone home.

You don’t blame him. Not for a second. You knew when you found Simon’s dog tag on your desk that he never intended on coming back. You knew when you read his neatly written note that you would never see him again. You would never hear his voice or feel his lips against yours. You would never get the chance to tell him that you were his, and that you always had been.

You didn’t know then, that a part of you always would be, didn’t know that he had left more behind than either of you could have imagined.

***

When the doorbell rings, you tear your eyes away from the now framed note. Flitting through the cozy flat with a smile growing on your face,

“Saint!” Gaz sweeps you into a bruising hug, your feet coming off the floor and a giggle erupting from your chest.

“I’m glad you all could make it.” You say a bit breathlessly once you're back on solid ground.

Price gives you a hug next, his beard tickling your cheek, “Wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.”

“Aye, are ye kiddin’?” Johnny’s kiss lands just at the corner of your lips, his hold tighter, more familiar than the rest- “Miss our big lad’s first birthday? Never, bonnie.”

On cue, you turn at the sound of excited babbling to see the birthday boy in question, looking between the four of you. His copper brown eyes wide with curiosity, and a mess of honey blonde curls on his head.

I was so lucky to have had you..

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.

Your Simon.

+++

well, I’m ruined. and I hope you enjoyed it. I’m really not good at leaving angst too angsty, I’m too much of a hoe for silver linings and happy endings and all that fluffy sh*t.

forever just a lover girl at heart 🥲

#bee writes #this was too good how could I not #simon x reader #I’m so bad at angst #I’m just a soft girlie #call of duty #cod fandom #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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