#marcus rashford x oc

[azulera]

Rashy noticing that's something has been wrong with you for the last few weeks and you just won't tell him and he's stressing trying to figure it out

azulera

Don’t Leave Me Alone

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Words: 3.5k

Notes: ngl recent events have made me not even want to post but i already had this done and as i said, i do value that ppl like my writing enough to send requests. so here is this! hope u like it anon

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They'd picked the summer time to move in, late May to be exact, and Marcus was sure it was the smartest decision he’d ever been a part of. The prem season was ended, Y/N was out for the semester, they both had at least five weeks free to travel and relax, and there’d be no cold for the mover’s fingers to go blue in. The transporting itself had gone smoothly, each of her things finding its place in the huge expanse of his house, and the past month and a half of eating, sleeping and waking next to each other had been as nearest to perfect as Marcus thought life might get. So he couldn’t explain what, in the last seven days, could have possibly gone wrong.

“Is everythin alright, love?” He asked over the dinner table, which was sanded wood and brought over from Y/N’s apartment, much smaller than the one he’d used before.

She looked up from her plate and blinked. “Do you mean about dinner? I think I finally got the potatoes right this time, yeah.”

“No, not the food.” The side of his mouth lifted. “You’ve just seemed a bit down, this week, I don’t know. Just wanted to ask, see if there was anythin buggin you?”

“Oh,” She passed a hand over her hair. “Just tired, I guess. It was a rough semester.”

“Yeah, it was – you smashed it, though. But,” He paused until she looked at him, and was immediately taken by her brown eyes, which, unreadable as they were, he’d always found incredibly beautiful. “If anything’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d want to help.”

“Mhm.” She replied, and flitted her eyes away, pushing up from the table. “Let’s clean up?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t convinced, and stood up to take their few dishes to the kitchen. They rinsed and loaded in a silence not as comfortable as it ought to have been, and soon finished, Y/N pausing in front of the rumbling machine. From behind, Marcus pulled her into an embrace, fitting his hands around her waist and mumbling into her neck.

“Wanna come cuddle wi’me for a bit? We can watch the next Narcos.”

He felt her take a deep breath, and then lightly pat the hand that held her.

“I’ve got a little headache, actually. Think m’gonna lay down for the night.”

Marcus frowned. “You want me to watch the next episode? Without you?”

“Yeah, go ahead – I’ll get caught up when you’re on your trip next week. I’d just really like to lay down.”

Fatigue colored her voice, and Marcus felt a little more sure that she really was just under the weather, and not anything worse.

“D’you want me to bring you tea? Water? Medicine?”

She shook her head “no”, and turned around, another sigh hitting the fabric of his t-shirt.

“S’alright, then. Hope you get feeling better, babe.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then two to the dark spirals of her hair. “I’ll be up in a bit. I love you.”

A near silent “thank you” left her lips, and she squeezed his hand once. And then Marcus was left in the kitchen alone.

~~

After a mild pre-season session the next day, Marcus skipped showering to go straight to his car. When he’d seen her that morning, Y/N had still seemed poorly – she hadn’t left bed for tea and breakfast with him, and no silly texts or memes had come into his phone, the way they usually did during his long hours of training. Leaving now, he'd felt a strange, strong urge to get to her, like the sooner he did, the sooner things would go back to normal.

When he keyed into the house, however, her usual lounging spot – in the center of the living room sectional – was empty. As were the kitchen, bedroom, gym and laundry room that he walked to after. He found her instead on the back patio, cuddled into herself on the sunbed, with her curls spread wild and loose about her shoulders. A book was opened up and settled on her knees, and a pile of crumpled tissues sat just to her right.

“Hey, was lookin for you.”

The jitters that assailed him finally began to slow as he approached her, but didn’t fade completely.

“What’s all these for? You wasn’t crying, were you?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just this book. It’s pretty sad.” She tried to laugh at herself, but the sound came out wet and dull. “Or maybe I’m just dramatic.”

A range of emotions swept over him as he considered her pink, puffy eyes, the way she still wouldn’t hold his gaze for too long. His anxiety flared again, but he continued on with the plan he’d devised in the car, hopeful that it might still work.

“Well, I’m just about to run a bath, didn’t have time to shower after training. It could cheer you up, maybe. Did you wanna join me?”

It’s something special they do, just for them, a quiet and closeness involved that Marcus enjoyed far more than he’d ever said aloud. He hoped it would be enough to break through the wall he felt sprouting between them.

“But you’re all sweaty.” She said flatly.

He sucked his teeth, and sat alongside her on the thin mattress.

“That never stopped you before? When we were squeezed up in the one at your flat.”

“Right.” Her face fell, suddenly, as if she’d remembered something unpleasant. “But I’ve already showered, actually, a bit ago. Went out for a run.”

“That never stopped you before, either” Marcus wanted to say but didn’t, and focused instead on fixing his face to not reveal his disappointment.

“Okay.” He stalled a moment, weighing his next move. “Babe, are you sure everything is okay with you? M’a bit worried–”

“It’s fine, Marcus. It’s going to be fine, just …” She closed her eyes, and they glistened when they opened, focused seriously on his own. “I’m fine. Just stop pushing it, please.”

She gathered her book and trash and walked back into the house, which hurt him, but her last sentences hurt worse. If he wasn't meant to push, then what could he do? Sitting back and watching her pull further and further away from him was tortuous and seemed the opposite of what a good partner should do. Still, he nodded, even though she had already gone, and let his head fall into his hands.

A few hours later, in the bath, the jacuzzi jets going but alone, nothing was as it should have been. Already he missed the slide of her wet skin against his, how the brown of it went faintly pink the hotter she ran the water, which was scalding enough by Marcus’ standards. Now it felt lukewarm at best, the bubbles even less fluorescent, less bubbly than usual, without her there to scoop handfuls of them to paste on his face and chest, making herself giggle and cleaning their bodies in the process. He missed that, too, he realized, her body – it’s softness and strength, and how easily it yielded and came alive under his hands, but more concerning was her mind, which was somewhere outside its optimal state, and seemingly getting worse by the day.

He leaned his head back against the tub’s edge and sighed. It was a soft sound, quickly lost among the hum of the jets and the noise of his muscles singing and thanking him, but then he heard something else. Crying. Quiet, choked-off sobs from the other side of the en suite door, that he knew Y/N was trying to hide, but didn’t know why. The sound alone carved a hole deeper in his chest.

Before he realized it, he’d risen from the bath, shampoo still in his hair, and pushed open the door to their bedroom.

Squinting through the dark, Marcus could tell she was in the bed, asleep, or at least pretending to be. He debated whether or not to wake her – his every instinct begged him to, but the noise of tears had stopped, and he’d been specifically, harshly instructed not to “push”.

He waited several moments anyway, eyeing her sleeping form, burning up inside, but when she didn’t budge, he stepped back into the bathroom, mindful of the growing puddle he’d created on the carpet.

Under the shower head, he rinsed his hair and dried off, putting on his lotion and moisturizer in record time, all the while his mind racing, trying to settle the unease twisting up his chest and throat. When he got to the bedroom, he set his alarm and settled in under the covers behind her, as close as he dared.

Though her breaths came and went evenly, something in him, maybe something of his own creation, told him she was awake, that she could hear him. He felt free to unburden himself, and say what he wanted her to know.

“M’here for you, Y/N.” He used one arm to hold her against his chest, and the other to fix her hair scarf where it had ridden up in the back. “Hope you know that. Whatever it is, we can … fix it, talk about it, at least, together. Love you ... don’t wanna lose you.”

He knew the words were true, and could feel their sincerity aching somewhere deep in his bones. But he feared he was running out of ways to make sure Y/N believed it, too.

~~

By the following day, Marcus decided “not pushing” was no longer a viable option. Y/N was gone from bed even before him, and he turned to his night-table to find a message saying she’d gone out for an early run again and to get coffee. It wasn’t a strange occurrence on its own, but the way the last few days had gone, weeks really, this latest change to their patterns was enough to set him on a nervous edge. All through the day, his head was gone, drifting and distracted while training, and his thoughts sprinting to the worst - Y/N wanted to move out, she wanted to break up with him – in any moment he had idle.

But when his third check-in text sent from the rain-wet bed of the physio suite went unanswered, as did the two facetime call requests, it became slightly harder for him to breathe. The PT scrunched his face, but Marcus didn’t explain, wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak if he tried, and he’d been forced through two rounds of deep breathing before he’d let him off the table.

As soon as the gaffer released them, Marcus raced home through the rain that had begun to pour, calling one more time to no avail, but trying to stay rational. He imagined her sat in her spot on the big sofa in the sitting room when he arrived, apologetic and with some perfectly logical story of what had kept her from her phone all day, and what had depressed her mood the past few weeks.

He opened the front door, however, to silence, and her car keys still gone. His stomach dropped, and an icy, despairing prickle crawled over his skin. Was he overreacting? Or should he have pushed more?

Somehow he knew the rest of the house and even the back porch would be empty, just as silent, and found himself climbing the stairs anyway. His legs stopped by the room he used as his office, and he threw himself into the desk chair. He felt more calm, serious in there, for some reason, and composed himself enough to check her location, which was inconclusive, and click her contact another time. It went to voicemail once again, and he cursed, pulling at his hair.

After one heavy, frantic beat, he picked up the phone again to dial the only other number that would be useful at a time like this. The call picked up on the second ring.

“Mum?”

~~

Marcus’ car had been in the driveway when you pulled up, but when you stepped into his house – your house, now – there wasn’t any trace of him. Late afternoon training usually left him in the kitchen or theater room, scarfing down whatever meals his nutritionist prepared before conking out in his-your bed for a few hours until dinner.

You checked your phone, which had been dead up until the last five minutes when you’d connected it to the car charger, and realized it was closer to dinner time than you’d thought.

Dropping off your raincoat and bag, you went in search of him. The blaring missed calls and texts deserved a response, as hard as it would be to face him in person. You didn’t want him to worry any more than he already did, even though you felt there was little, if anything, he could do.

“Marcus?” You called up the stairs, but there was only your footsteps, the patter of rain, in answer.

You began climbing anyway, sure the sounds of the house would lead you to him, and eventually heard his voice, muffled through the closed door of his office. You stopped, and leaned against the wall to listen.

“She won’t talk to me, mum, she won’t, I’ve tried everythin. She’s not physically hurt, no, but something is wrong. I know that much. It’s like she don’t even want to be around me.”

There was a pause, and an ache began in your chest. The distress in your partner’s voice was palpable.

“But I’ve gave her space. And I’ve even asked her up front what’s wrong, and still nothin. I'm leavin for my trip in a few days, and I won’t be able to fix anythin from there. Reckon she might even be gone by then.”

Each second you listened, you fell further and further into the mire of guilt, and it seemed impossible to get out. Some external force, whose name or origin you didn’t know, forced your hand onto the knob and pushed into the room.

You met his eyes, cautious, but found nothing but relief, unshed tears in them.

“Y/N. Baby.” His voice cracked around the words, and he flew to your side of the room, crushing you to his body, burying his face in your damp hair.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Where were you?”

You tried, but couldn't speak around the lump in your throat. All you wanted was for him to hold you again, and to apologize for everything.

“Y/N. You’ve gotta talk to me, please. M’goin mad here, I’ve been goin mad–”

“I’m okay, Marcus. I’m not hurt.” You squeezed at his hands, trying to loosen their tight grip around your back and also trying to ground him. “Went for my run and coffee like I said, and then around to visit my mates at my old flat. My phone died, and I didn’t realize. I should’ve known you would worry.”

He looked back at you with wide eyes still, nodding slow like it was taking serious effort to comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly, but much quieter, and none of the terror gone from it.

“Y/N, look, know you asked me not to push, but I can't just do nothin while–”

“Wait, Marcus – can we sit and do this? Please. And you’ve gotta get out of this jacket, babe, it’s soaked. You’ll catch a cold.”

The familiar sound of your fussing seemed to center him further, and he slid the jacket off, settling stiffly on the futon along the opposite wall. His legs were spread wide, and he raised his hands to his knees, fingers digging into them.

Hesitantly, you followed, standing between his legs, watching his eyes, which you’d missed, and his lips, which you’d possibly missed even more. You paused before lowering yourself onto his knee.

“Is this okay?”

“‘Course” He breathed out, pulling you the rest of the way down and rubbing his hands gently up and down your back. It was the first moment you’d felt at ease in the last two weeks, and you took the time to just hug him, wiping at a drop of water puddled along his hairline. Gradually, everything that had been pent-up seemed much easier to face.

“I’ve been real distant the past weeks, haven’t I.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s cause I’ve been confused.”

“Confused about what?”

The intensity of his eyes suddenly became too much, and you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. You made sure your voice still reached him clear.

“Confused about my feelings. About us, about us living together.”

His stomach had gone cold with dread again, but you took the silence as a license to continue. You knew he would stop you if and when he’d heard enough.

“It’s been great, it really has, Marcus. You’re my favorite person to be around – you know that.” His insides smiled at the mention, since the past week had convinced him of the opposite. Still, his expression remained the same.

“And you seemed so happy, having me here. But sometimes, lately, it got — I don’t know, overwhelming? Like, I had my friends in my last flat with me, and it feels like I spend so much time here alone. When you’re here, I don’t feel like that, but that don't feel fair to you either.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, it’s confusing, but it’s like, I’m used to my roommates, us all together, a lot of noise – even when you’re alone you’re not really alone. So whenever you get here, I want to recreate that, spend every second with you, if I can. Didn’t want you to think I was clinging, though? ‘Cause I know how that feels, too.” You paused to take a breath, and Marcus rubbed your back, silent encouragement to continue.

“Thought you should be able to come home and spend your time on your own, too, if that’s what you wanted. So I was moping, but trying to give you that, for a while. Thought that if I could give you some space until your trip next week, I’d be okay. I could use that week to get myself together, stop being ungrateful. ‘Cause I am so lucky, aren’t I? To be able to live with this person I love so much. But I guess I only made it worse.”

“So it’s findin a balance, then, that was hard. Findin ... where you and I, personal time ends, and where “us” time begins.” Marcus summarized.

There was an unspoken “Why didn’t you just say so?” at the back of his statement that your partner was too kind and too patient to say. But you deserved it, so you said it yourself.

“Exactly. But I should have told you that it was eating me up. Not tried to isolate myself, or shut you out. And I’m sorry, about that. ”

Marcus let the apology ring out, and laced the fingers of one of your hands together, a quiet absolution. You felt lighter, now, after having spoken your piece, but knew that didn’t mean the conservation was over.

“Don’t think I need to say I forgive you, because,” He leaned his chin into his palm thoughtfully, before looking up at you. “Because I really get it, you know. I do. I understand that you need your own space, to feel like your own person still. And also that I’m gone, and it’s just you here, a lot, which is new for you. I get that it’s overwhelming, that findin the balance bit. But– I’ve never done this, moved in with someone before, either, have I? It’s excitin, but it’s a lot of other emotions, too. You can’t assume how m’feeling, or how I want to spend my time, just like I can’t read your mind about what's got you upset, innit?”

He paused.

“And it’s like, we’ve gotta figure it out together, don’t we?”

You nodded.

“So when -if, you’re feelin like that again, you’ll tell me? Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings, or whatever. And if you need to go spend extra time with your mates to feel alright, we’ll sort it. And I’ll do the same. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"You promise?"

You promised, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and chin against his head. With the most difficult part of the conversation over, your senses opened up enough beyond Marcus to notice that the sound of rain outside had ceased. The wet, grassy smell of his training kit finally entered your nose, and your good humor began to stretch its legs.

“So I don’t need to go pack my things?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“No.” Marcus snorted. “Not unless you changed your mind the last 15 seconds.”

“Nah, I reckon I’ll stay. I'd miss the jacuzzi tub too much.” You sighed. “Saying no to that bath with you was the hardest thing I ever done.”

Marcus chuckled, enough air in his chest to do so now, and kissed you lightly on the lips.

“Fancy one now?” He repeated, and your “please” was fast and enthusiastic. He scooped you in his arms, and you held tight to him, murmuring quiet “I love you”s and knowing as you walked through the house –your house– that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[riahollywood]

hi! 🙋🏻‍♀️ been sent over from the world of wattpad. looking forward to exploring more…

i’m ria, an unfortunate man united fan with a crush on far too many men way out of my league

big fan of the faces of:

erling haaland

jack grealish

marcus rashford

christian pulisic

kylian mbappe

jude bellingham

martin odegaard

john stones

blurbs/requests coming soon… in the meantime for any of my Erling girlies, check out my ongoing fic {warning, smut involved 👀}

flatline - an Erling Haaland fic

https://www.wattpad.com/story/335891901-flatline-•-erling-haaland

[cssiop]

LATE CONFESSION... marcus rashford

marcus confesses to olivia the crush he used to have on her years ago.

marcus rashford x fem!oc word count: 2k

THE SIX-YEAR-OLD MARCUS used to hate it when his parents bumped into an old childhood friend, the one they hadn't seen for two decades and then talked to for what seemed like forever. from children to work, from their wives to their husbands, they would go over the world again, sometimes wondering about the life path of some, the studies they had chosen, and the way they had changed physically. then a joke or two would be thrown in, about the number of wrinkles they had accumulated since then, the responsibilities and the pressure of work too, a far cry from the high school years spent partying and having fun.

the six-year-old boy was getting impatient, huffing and puffing, crossing his arms with a sulky look on his face, wanting his mother or father to finally put an end to this interminable and more than useless conversation for him. but the childhood friend he didn't know would lean over, big smiling eyes on his face before exclaiming, "is he your youngest?" and then would pinch his cheek, as if they knew each other. and the conversation would start again, never stopping, and six-year-old marcus was fed up.

only, his youngest version should have known that he would also become this person one day, almost twenty years later, crossing paths with someone from his past, who, even for a short time, had taken an important place in a moment of his life. olivia, his classmate from the age of thirteen to fifteen. marcus had just bumped into her during a party in the center of manchester as he was about to leave, the watch on his wrist already announcing five o'clock in the morning. normally, he would have apologised and not lingered, but not this time, marcus had recognised the girl in a flash.

"holy shit," a smile crept onto his face, contagious as the same one found its way onto olivia's lips.

"oh my god marcus?!" her eyes grew wide and she laughed childishly, "hi!" she exclaimed excitedly, happy to see the man she was cheating with during tests in year 10.

a similar laugh escaped from between the footballer's stretched lips before he spontaneously opened his arms, inviting her into a brief but nostalgic embrace which she gladly accepted, "olivia! i wasn’t expecting to see you there!"

"well neither did i, what are you celebrating?" she asked as she stepped away from the boy's body, a smile still plastered on her face.

"not anything really, just enjoying a bit with the guys before the season starts again," marcus stated with a small smile on his lips, assuming that olivia knew he was a footballer.

"yeah i saw that, you’re a footballer now," she pushed marcus' shoulder with her fist to laugh as he pretended to be hurt, painting a new wider smile on olivia's face.

"well yeah," the player scratched the back of his neck as the red rose to his cheeks, "and you, what are you doing in manchester?" curiosity overcame him; the reason they had lost contact was that the girl had moved hundreds of miles away.

"i just moved back in!" joy intermingled in her words as she told her newfound friend the good news.

"that's amazing! when did you move back in?" marcus also felt happiness fill him after olivia's words.

"literally today, that's why i'm here," she giggled, "to celebrate my new start," her glass was raised in the air and the player didn't hesitate to do the same with his to clash them as two 'cheers' rang out at the same time from their mouths.

their conversation then went on and on; the girl explained to him the business studies she had undertaken before finally setting up her own company and the reason why she had come back to london. the six-year-old marcus would have been surprised to see himself enjoying this kind of conversation today, listening attentively to olivia, well almost, more hypnotised by her features which had matured and defined themselves over the years. she was still as beautiful as ever, if not more so.

if he could have, marcus would have stood there for hours admiring her as he used to do in secret in class but unfortunately, jadon sancho decided otherwise. when the english player felt his teammate's hand on his shoulder and his loud voice, he held back from rolling his eyes.

"you can't be serious marcus! we said it was a night out between lads, no flirting with chicks!" he laughed and marcus felt a gasp of exasperation come from between his mouth.

"i was not flirting, she's a friend from school, olivia," introduced marcus, giving a somewhat apologetic look to the girl who only seemed amused by the situation.

"oh my bad, nice to meet you olivia," a charming smile now graced jadon’s lips as he held out his hand, and annoyance flared in marcus at his friend's behavior.

"nice to meet you too jadon," the woman had recognised the english striker at a glance, the euro last summer had taught her well about the members of the english men's team.

the three of them started talking, much to marcus’ dismay, and after a while, he was forced to cut the conversation short and almost kick jadon out of the way so that he would leave them alone.

"well...it was great to see you again, marcus, but i should go home now," sighed olivia with a smile that the player returned.

"it was, yeah. i should go too," thousands of thoughts ran through the player's mind as a question burned his tongue, he hesitated to ask it before finally finding the courage to, "by any chance, do you need a ride home tonight?"

olivia didn't need one, her friend was already supposed to give her a lift home, but just for marcus, tonight, she needed one.

"i do, actually."

…

"it's weird that we didn't hang out that much outside of school because we used to get along well during class," marcus softly stated as he drove through the capital under the direction of olivia who showed him the way to her new london flat.

"i think that we had different groups of friends so you know," she shrugged before pausing and then resuming, a new memory flashing through her mind, "and also, i think your friends didn't like me that much."

confusion took over marcus’ facial features as his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze turned stealthily to olivia, "what do you mean?"

"literally every time i'd come near them, i'd always feel like i bothered them," she replied with a small smile in retrospect.

"what? they were literally all in love with you, like everyone," marcus almost exclaimed, very disturbed by the difference in their memories.

he remembered the discussions between them as soon as she passed by their group and the low compliments that they declared to each other.

she remembered their evasive looks as soon as she started talking to them as if they already wanted the conversation to be over, as she seemed to annoy them so much.

a story really always had two sides.

she blinked several times, "what?" it was olivia's turn to be lost.

"everybody had a crush on you."

olivia couldn't believe it, "okay," she turned her body towards marcus who was then forced to alternate his gaze between her and the road, "let's say it's true, how come nobody ever asked me out?" she continued, her hands moving in all directions to support her question.

the corner of his lips edged up faintly at the woman before he returned his gaze to the road, "because you were unattainable, you were too...good. no one thought they had a chance with you."

"how could you even be so sure of that?" her voice went high-pitched as confusion crawled on her face all the more.

today's marcus let a small laugh escape from between his lips as he thought back to the fifteen-years-old marcus; the one who would have done anything for olivia, the one who was nervous but also happy every time she decided to sit next to him, the one who always hoped that by some miracle she would confess her feelings to him in the corner of the playground one day, the one who was excited to go to class in the morning only to see her, but most of all, the one who only thought of her at night when bedtime would come.

marcus thought hard about that old him and then, biting his lip, said softly, almost in a sigh, "because i was one of them."

a sidelong glance was enough for him to see olivia's mouth open wide along with her eyes. then out of nowhere, she tapped him on the shoulder, a big smile now on her mouth, "no way?! and you never told me?!"

she laughed then, not at his confession but rather at the adrenaline that flowed through her veins after it.

"i already told you. you were too good for us, me. i was shy and so scared of being rejected," his cheeks flushed as he did his best to avoid olivia's laughing eyes to his left.

"but if you never try you never know," she declared, a smile still beaming on her lips.

"olivia," he finally found the courage to look her in the eye, "you were smart, pretty, nice to everyone, you liked and played football," he listed all her qualities and the girl felt herself sink into her seat, a flustered smile on her lips, touched by all these words, "and i was just marcus rashford."

olivia frowned at his words, "what do you mean 'you were just marcus rashford'? i literally passed math because of you!" she exclaimed in all seriousness, almost angry at him for reducing himself to his name, to so little.

a laugh then echoed through the car as he threw his head back, grinning from ear to ear at olivia's words. he dragged her along with him for a while before a comfortable silence settled in where they were both still processing everything they had just said to each other and the way this night was turning out.

and as marcus parked downstairs from her building, he ended up asking her another question that he didn't know would have such nice consequences, "if i had asked you out back then, what would you have said?"

a smile that could only mean good news made its way onto olivia's face and she looked into ben's oceanic eyes, "definitely yes," she paused, "i had a crush on you too marcus," she breathed out and giggled happily, "why do you think i always sat next to you in class?"

the man's eyes opened wide, so wide he thought they would pop out of their sockets, "really?" he asked softly as a smile settled on his face once more.

"hell yeah."

"well...we look like two fucking idiots now," marcus laughed, dragging olivia along as she stretched her full lips and crinkled the corners of her eyes in hilarity.

the fifteen-year-old marcus would have jumped up and down when he heard that his feelings were reciprocated by the girl, and that same marcus would have let olivia out of her car and simply said goodbye, without trying anything more, too shy to do so. but tonight, marcus was no longer fifteen; he had gained more self-confidence and self-assurance. so today's marcus, seeing olivia open the door and put her feet on the ground, was not going to give up his chance.

that same marcus called out to her to turn around and with a charming little smile, asked her in complete hope, "could i get your number before you go?"

[nicolesainz]

New Romantics (Part VII)

Carlos Sainz x OC x Mason Mount

Chapter 8

Warnings: smut-ish, minors dni, angst, jealousy, lots of tears

Carlos POV

I was an asshole. I am an asshole. How can people present me as a sweet and humble man when on the inside I’ve hurt so many people? That sounds like what a cruel and shameless person would do.

After that night in Monaco, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Somehow, she managed to hide herself very easily during the race. I only spotted Mason giving me death stares every time he saw me looking through the Red Bull area.

Obviously an apology wouldn’t make the cut. I was to blame for the distance created between the Norris siblings. I couldn’t face Lando after that. I felt disgust dousing me. That day in Monaco, should have been a happy one, considering the podium, but it was the worst one to exist.

Quinn deserves to be with someone better. Someone who would treat her right. Apparently the one was Chelsea’s golden boy. But I would have given up everything for it to be me.

The following 2 races weren’t the best ones for me, having known that Silverstone was coming up and there was a chance that I’ve scared her off from coming to the race.

I didn’t want to hurt any other person further, so I broke up with Isa. She was and is a dear friend to me and doesn’t deserve a person like me in her life as her partner. I’d harm her. I’m in love with someone else. Not her.

Canada finished off on a high, almost winning the race but eventually settling for a second place. I really craved this first win in Formula 1. Being in the sport for eight years, that was my next goal.

The Monday after the race, I took a plain back to Madrid. I needed to be alone before I had to travel to UK for the weekend. I had to clear my head. There’s no grater thing in life than being surrounded by family and people who love you. But at that moment, I had lost a loved one with a mistake of mine.

Wednesday was my last day at home, so I decided to let myself be lazy and do nothing for the remaining hours. Sports websites, sports channels, instagram, Twitter, every social media, was buzzing about the announcement of the teams for the World Cup, taking place a few hours after Abu Dhabi ends.

Knowing that Spain qualified, I turned on the TV and waited to hear which players had been selected. To my disadvantage, the countries were being picked by alphabetical order.

“…And now moving to another favorite of the championship, England. This year, their squad may even be stronger than the one from 2018” one of Sky Sports commentators said happily

“Oh yes! New additions to the team. It’s taking the form of the one they had back in the 2020 Euros. So, let’s hear the names of the Englishmen representing their country in the World Cup”

“Marcus Rashford, the extremely talented Forward of Manchester United…and Mason Mount, Chelsea’s rising star and one of the best midfielders”

As I heard his name I wanted to smash the Tv. I decided to take a safer route and simply turn it off. I grabbed my phone and opened Instagram, only to see that Quinn had posted a story. She doesn’t usually post anything. Not being very active.

I take a deep breath, only for my heart to tear apart a bit, as this picture pops up right in front of my face

My stomach started twisting and turning around. But it was for the best. I was the one who let her go. He simply took the chance.

I close my phone as I hear a knock on my door. I started recollecting whether I had invited someone or not.

“It’s Charles! Open up loverboy” I hear my Monégasque teammate shout from outside. What was he doing here?

“Oh finally. It was getting a bit cold out there. Sorry for barging in without telling you” he apologized with a suitcase behind his back

“No worries. But what are you doing here? Did something happen?” I ask with concern knowing that Charles didn’t drive all the way here just to go together to Silverstone

“I assume you’ve seen the story Quinn posted?”

“Yes. Unfortunately. But I can’t do something about it”

“Yes you can! All you need is a plan”

“I already tried Charles. Whenever I’m around her, she refused to talk to me and then Mason comes to the rescue”

“Try and approach her in another way”

“Like how?”

“First of all text her if she’ll be in the race. It’s Lando’s home race after all”

“I think she’ll regret coming to Silverstone. I was the reason she didn’t attend any of the races in the past two years. She was and is scared of me”

The words come out of my mouth and they taste sour. Charles doesn’t talk for a moment. I was too furious and too disappointed at myself. I caused this mess myself. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

“You know what? Let’s go out! I can’t stand looking at you being all sloppy and moody. We’ll get drunk” my teammate suggest, well, demands we do.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea Charles, we have to get up early tomorrow”

“I’ll get you drunk no matter the cost! You need to cheer up a bit man!”

Last time I was drunk, it led to me pathetically texting Quinn and hating me even more than before. If Charles locks up my phone, then maybe getting drunk again wouldn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Okay, deal” I say shrugging my shoulders

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

Quinn’s POV

I was sitting smiling across Mason, on his bed, while he was screaming and laughing while Face Timing with Declan. Being best friends and picked for Englands National Team is a dream for them.

I enjoyed seeing Mason this happy. It would be his first ever time competing in the World Cup! It’s been quite the time since I felt this excited for someone. My heart was fluttering and I was over the moon.

“Gotta go mate. Jude’s awake and I need to check on him. Laters! BYE QUINN. TAKE CARE OF MY BUDDY!” Declan exclaimed loudly through the phone and hung up afterwards

Mason turned to face me with a huge smile on his face. Suddenly he attacked me with multiple tickles and kisses all over my cheeks. Pure bliss i would say!

“This is perfect. I am going to the World Cup and I found out the news having you by my side. I couldn’t have asked for anything better than this. Thank you Quinn” he said, lowering his forehead to touch mine.

“Why are you thanking me? You should thank yourself for being so talented and proving your capabilities to the English crowd” I cupped his cheeks, caressing them softly

“I just hope I don’t disappoint them, or you. I really wanna show the world what I’m capable of”

“You could never disappoint me Mase, nor the team. Remember the Euro’s? The brilliant goals you scored and how you saved the team. I’m immensely proud of you”

As the worlds escaped my lips, a few seconds later they were occupied, being tangled with Mason, us kissing passionately, him being on top of me, removing our shirts so our skins could touch.

His mouth moved inches lower to my neck, sucking it, whilst my hands were playing with the lace of his sweatpants.

“Less teasing, more doing” Mason breathed and went on kissing and licking my hardened nipples, drawing circles with his tongue around them

“Oh Fuck-Mase!” I tried to hold my groan but it was nearly impossible, with the way he was making me feel.

My hands lowered both his pants and underwear, revealing his erected dick to me. I couldn’t react when I felt my panties being ripped by Mason. I took him in my hands and put the tip of his cock on my entrance, feeling both his and my pre cum.

“I need you Quinn. More than anything” Mason kissed me hardly once more, leaving me breathless.

“Open up like the good girl you are” he demanded and I immediately obeyed. Didn’t even think twice.

Mason knew that this would be my first time, so he didn’t force himself inside me, instead started slowly and with smooth moves. When I felt him inside me I let out a big gasp, with butterflies fluttering around my stomach.

“My god Mason” I exclaimed as my nails were dug inside his back, trying to steady my body.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby, it’s amazing” his dick was clenched all over my pussy and a few moments later his pace became more speedy than before.

He found my G-spot with a rough trust, making me moan his name so loud, probably his neighbors heard us. He picked me up and threw my body against the shower wall, opening the tap and hot water pouring all over us. This was pure euphoria.

“You’re taking me so good love. Let me know if I’m hurting you” I could tell from his voice that he was scared of hurting me in any way

“You could never hurt me” I moan once more, reaching my peak. I was ready to cum.

“Mason I’m so close”

“Cum all over my cock princess. I want to taste you”

“I want you to fill me up. Every last inch” I say without being able to breathe anymore

“Your wish, is my command”

We both let a synchronized moan and came all over each other. I was utterly happy and satisfied after what had just happened. I’ve never felt so thrilled before.

“Thank you for allowing me to be your first” Mason gently said, wrapping my body with a towel.

The words i bursted our afterwards, were the truest, most honest and heartfelt ones I’ve said to someone. And I hoped to god, no one took them away.

“I love you Mason”

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

@alwaysclassyeagle for you being the only one on the masterlist of New Romantics 🫶🏻

Thank you for the support

[praiafleur]

requesting rules

request box status ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ closed!!!

psa 🗣️: as a woc, i do not deep dive into the physical appearence of the reader or their race/ethnicity unless stated otherwise. i only write fem!reader x oc.

who i write for

trent alexander-arnold, alejandro balde, jobe bellingham, levi colwill, ruben dias, paulo dybala, rodrygo goes, curtis jones, joão félix, víni júnior, noni madueke, kylian mbappé, jamal musiala, bukayo saka, leroy sané, dominik szoboszlai, aurélien tchouméni, virgil van dijk, nico williams, lamine yamal, kenan yıldız

who i’m willing to write for

hector fort, marc guiu, marcus rashford

do not request

please don't ask for super detailed or highly specific scenarios!! i still need my creative freedom to let your ideas come to life x

don’t request fics based on real-life scandals, controversies, or personal lives of players. under no circumstances will i tolerate gossip in my requests.

no requests involving violence, abuse, non-consensual scenarios, incest or anything that could be triggering or harmful, including weird kinks whatsoever.

lastly, please do give contructive critism where i need it! it is so appreciated.

[ghettogirly]

━━━━━━━━━━

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐉𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐓.

🎶”𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐔𝐒..“

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 ��𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 ?

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐖?

-> imagine: tensions

-> headcanon: armando nsfw A-Z

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍:

-> imagine: lifeline!

-> imagine: war or love?

-> series: him and I, episode 2.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[azulera]

Hello TikTok

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Summary: Marcus joins TikTok, and you share your thoughts on his first post.

Notes: I wrote this a while ago and it was inspired by the first vid he posted on tiktok which I laughed at for days. He is such a dork (I'm in l*ve with him)

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

The sudden notification to your phone was unexpected, not because of the app it came from, but because Marcus’ name was attached to it. Settling deeper into the corner of the couch, you opened the link to the TikTok video and let it play.

The background was dark, and the footage was slightly grainy, but clearly showed Marcus in a black hoodie, kicking about in a nondescript patch of grass. There was a row of streetlamps behind him, but no eye-catching edits, background music or even TikTok sounds underlying the recording, only the rubbery whack of the ball against his trainers as he bounced it off them and up in the air. After a few moments, the ball flew from his feet and clattered into the camera.

“Yes, everyone— Marcus Rashford, here.” He suddenly spoke, the phone now in his hand and the camera focused on his face. The cheery, formal tone of his voice mismatched with the dark setting.

“And I am on TikTok.”

The video slowed to a stop with his face still in the frame, and the abrupt ending forced a burst of laughter through your lips. Was that all?

You played the video once more, raising the volume and screen brightness to make sure you’d seen and heard everything. The kick-ups could have been anyone’s suggestion, you thought on the second viewing, but the less-than-perfect lighting and straightforward script had your boyfriend written all over it. Still, you had many, many questions.

“Marcus, when did you post this?”

“Post what?”

He walked in the living room from the kitchen with a protein bar in hand, before plopping down onto the couch. He stretched his long frame out over yours, fitting the curve of your hip into his hand.

“This,” You said, flipping your phone screen for him to see his own face reflected back at him. He smiled softly.

“Oh, the TikTok? Just a minute ago. Go on and like it, though, repost it.” He grabbed for your phone, but you pulled it away, watching the video over again. On the screen, and in real life, you could see how proud he was of his creation.

“And you came up with the idea, then? Knocking the phone over with the ball?”

“Well, yeah. Why?”

“I’m just curious. It’s …” You bit down on your lip. The audio of the video continued playing from your phone in a loop. “You didn’t want to run it by anyone first? Even just me, or like, one of your video editing people?”

His eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean? I did run it by my team and them first, before I posted it.”

“And what did they say?”

“They thought it was cool. And funny, like. Wait - why’re you laughin?”

Your body shook lightly where Marcus held it, and you covered your mouth to spare his feelings, and mute the sound. He lifted his head up from your chest, unsure that the two of you were laughing for the same reasons.

“It is cool, innit? Don’t you think it’s cool?”

Words were impossible for a few moments, with your shoulders still vibrating with giggles and breath all but gone.

“You couldn’t have added a song at least?” You asked when air returned to your lungs. “Or some kind of audio, it’s dead silent in the back. And why did you end it like that? You could’ve done an outro or something.”

“But it didn’t need all of that, did it? It were supposed to be a short little thing—“

“Also what is ‘Yes, everyone?’” You continued. Marcus huffed and tried to leave the couch, but you held him close, still laughing as you did. “What are you saying yes to? And the camera angle is giving me uncle, grandpa energy, I can’t even–”

“Okay, okay! Low it.” Marcus sucked his teeth and set his jaw, raising on his forearms above you. “S’not that funny. I mean, it is but, not how you mean. I still rate it. It’s cool.”

He spoke like he meant to convince himself. You stared up at him for a minute, taking in the small rut creasing his forehead, and the near pout on his lips. The video was hilarious, there was no point denying it, but it was so innocent, earnest and slightly dorky – all things you loved about him – and he really was so pleased with his work. Even if your abdomen cramped from laughing, you would never have him change.

“You know what, baby? You’re right. The video is cool.” You pushed your face into his shoulder to try and quell the amusement still threatening to bubble over. “You are so cool. And so funny. Super cool and funny. ”

“Plus, it’s harder than it looks, you know. Aiming the ball like that.” He let his head fall back down to your chest. “And I did it one try.”

“Shhh, I know it is, I know. You are so talented. Come here.” He turned his head away from the half-laugh, half-kisses you attempted to press against his neck, but it only made you try harder.

“It’ll be viral by tomorrow.” He finally grumbled, tossing your phone onto the coffee table and allowing himself to be kissed. Soon he spread his arms to resume the previous cuddle. “You’ll see.”

[azulera]

Manny

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Summary: You give Marcus a manicure (and he thanks you).

Notes: i need Rashy so badly like yall do not understand… his weird fingernails and all. this was supposed to be short and family friendly but the ending … u can tell what im going thru ——————————————————————————

She had found a rhythm, was nearly finished with the last two nails of his left hand when Marcus flinched, hissing as the blades cut a little too close. He turned his head from the random episode of Bake-off playing on the bedroom television, but her eyes stayed focused on the cuticle scissors in her hand, lip caught between her teeth.

“Sorry, baby, I'm almost done. You’re doing so good.”

“S’okay.” He mumbled, and lifted his right hand from her thigh to inspect the digits, his other still resting in the gap between her crossed legs. They’d been clipped, filed, and even lovingly coated with a moisturizer she ordered specialty from Japan, and he gave them a quiet, but pleased “Looks nice.” She looked up from her task a moment just to smile.

“You’re sure you don’t want clear gloss on top? It’ll make them shiny.”

“Don’t need them to be shiny. Just healthy, innit. So long as they’re not bleedin, fallin off, then I’m good.”

She frowned.

“That’s a poor way to think about your body, though. You wouldn’t say the same if it was your knees, or toes.”

He shrugged. “Me legs and feet are way more important. Don’t need hands so much to do what I need to.”

“Don’t you want Jesse and your mates to stop bantering you?”

“I don’t care what them lot have to say. Not holdin their hand or anythin, anyway.

“But didn’t your mum ever tell you, girls won’t let you touch them if your fingernails aren’t nice?”

“You let me touch you, don’t you?” He licked his lips, and finally moved his eyes to hers, away from the TV. “And you like it, so.”

She rolled her eyes, even as a ribbon of heat flashed in her belly. Having finished with his little finger, she put down the scissors, and reached around the floor for the lotion.

“But I always make sure you cut and clean them good first, don’t I. And with your nails all pretty like this …”

She trailed off, gently rubbing the cream into his skin, and he leaned forward, crowding into her space. He let out soft hums as she moved from finger to finger, and began to massage his opposite thumb into her inner thigh.

“So let me touch you now.” He suggested, his voice much lower than before, and she could feel his warm breath fan against her face. Her spine tingled, but she didn’t respond until she finished, putting the nail supplies to the side and snapping the lotion bottle closed.

“Just put all this fancy moisturizer on for you. And you’re tryna undo all my hard work?”

“Nah, the opposite, really,” The hand on her leg creeped higher and higher, and his mouth moved closer, his nose nuzzling along her neck. “Wanna say thank you. For always taking care of me so good.”

“You can thank me by giving your nails a break,” She breathed, curling an arm around his neck, trying not to squirm. “Quit biting them.”

“But you'll like this 'thank you' way better.” He promised, pressing a kiss just under her ear. “Both know you will.”

Her instinct was to protest, but instead she tugged him closer by the hand, kissing away his sly smile. “Bare smooth, aren’t you" she teased as he laid her back against the pillows, feeling at his fingers for flaws, and knowing she would find none.

[azulera]

I'll Take Care of You

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black OC

Words: 1.7k

Summary: After a successful but exhausting night at work for the both of you, you and Marcus find ways to care for each other.

Notes: i am so soft for Rashy it physically hurts :’( Gentle feedback is very welcome + ao3 link

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

You sighed heavily as you keyed into your house, happier than you’d ever been to finally be home. The nonprofit you worked at had it’s bi-annual fundraiser’s dinner tonight, and you had been in charge of organizing the venue, placating the invited guests, and seeing that everything went to plan, and smoothly so. It had been a long night, and stressful, but so rewarding to thank the organizations and donors that supported you and your boyfriend Marcus’ goal of ending food insecurity in urban neighborhoods of the U.S. and England. Exhaustion and elation battled for control of your body, but a strong contentment lay right along with them both.

The event meant you hadn’t been able to make it to Old Trafford for the night’s match, but win or lose, you’d promised to be there when he got home to help talk it over and decompress. Still, you’d caught the score and some highlights on your phone, and knew that he had scored early in the second half: A stunning left-footed curler that sailed clear over the goalie’s fingertips and into the back of the net. You were sorry to have missed it.

Prepared to let him know just how proud you were when you saw him later, you put your things away and headed to the kitchen. What you saw there after switching on the lights made your chest fill with butterflies, and your eyes nearly with tears. Spread across the kitchen island were several towering arrangements of the bluest violets you had ever seen, all angled in the shape of a heart. They filled the room with their fresh, sweet scent, and you spent several moments pressing the petals close to your face and inhaling. When you walked to inspect the buds at the heart’s pointed end more closely, you saw a small folded card with your name on the outside. You opened the thick paper to read a message printed in rose-gold lettering:

“Y/N, I hope your dinner went well tonight, but with you in charge, I would expect nothing less than perfection. Your work is so important and I’m so grateful and proud of all you do for the community, and for me. You are amazing.

Love, Marcus”

Joyful laughter bubbled out from you even before you finished reading. Your boyfriend was too good, you thought, preparing for a must-win cup game and still finding time to do special things for you, to let you know that your work and accomplishments were no less meaningful than his own.

An intense giddiness and Marcus-directed affection followed you all through your shower and getting ready for bed, making your chest feel light and airy. You felt so lucky to have a partner like him, and couldn’t wait to see him and tell him so.

An hour later, you sat in bed with a book when you heard the front door open. After a few moments, you looked up to see Marcus entering the bedroom, looking slightly worn but smiling.

You ran and jumped into his arms before he could sit down.

“Thank you so so much, baby! The flowers are so beautiful, and you know violets are my favorite.”

Marcus laughed as you squeezed him with your legs, and peppered kisses over his face.

“You’re-haha -You’re welcome babes. I’m glad you liked them. I assume the night went well?”

“Mhmm, one of our biggest turnouts yet.” You mumbled, still focused on covering his face with kisses. He moved to sit on the end of the bed, and you settled with legs astride his lap.

“I knew it would be.” Marcus sighed. “You’re the best, you know.”

“No, you are.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, and leaned your foreheads together. “I saw your goal, and that left foot is looking so lethal, baby. They can’t stop you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He worked so hard to perform well that each time it was rewarded was always sweet.

“And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. They would have had to carry me out, I’d be so loud. ”

He mumbled out a bashful “Thank you” that was drowned out by your laughter as he pulled you down with him to lay on the bed. Suddenly, his features pinched in pain.

“Ah-ouch,-”

“What’s wrong?” You asked. You tried to slide off him, but he held you in place with his hands on your thighs.

“I’m alright, just took a hard fall in the second half, jolted my back a bit.” He reached to grab at the spot, and winced as he did.

You hadn’t seen that in the highlights.

“You ‘took a hard fall’ or did somebody foul you? Did they call it? Who was it?”

“Does it matter?” He looked to you sheepishly.

You cut your eyes at him once before concern returned.

“Well, what did the physio say? Did you mention it?”

“They looked at it quick, yeah, but it’s still a bit tight. Just need to sleep it off I reckon.”

Your brow furrowed. The trainers were mostly trustworthy, but you hated the idea of him going the whole night in discomfort. A better one came to you.

“What if I give you a massage? It might make sleeping easier.”

Marcus patted your thigh softly.

“No, love, I’m good, you’ve had a monster of a day yourself, I know. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” You squeezed at his hands, your eyes earnest. “If it’ll make it better, I want to.”

All evening you’d been waiting to reciprocate your appreciation for him, and helping him relieve some of his soreness was the perfect opportunity. He returned your gaze with his own, with something soft shining in it.

“Alright, then, yeah. A massage would be great.”

You grinned and leaned down to kiss him, pushing him back down when he tried to meet you halfway.

“Don’t move.” You instead stretched your body out to reach his lips, moving your mouth against his languidly and cradling his cheeks. He hummed against your lips, tightening his grip on your thighs, and gasped when you traced the roof of his mouth with your tongue. Just then, you pulled away, leaving him looking dazed. “One sec.”

You reached into the bedside table for the jar of cocoa butter stored in one of the drawers.

“Okay, now lift up.”

You moved so he could do as you said. You tugged at his sweatshirt to pull it over his head, followed by his undershirt, and your eyes met with the smooth, inked skin of his chest.

“Now, turn over.”

Marcus complied, his muscles flexing as he rotated to his front. You settled with your knees on either side of him, careful not put too much of your weight onto his legs. You couldn’t stop yourself from dropping several tiny kisses on his shoulders and spine.

He shivered softly, and you pulled away, opening the jar of lotion. You spread a thin layer over his skin, reaching up to get the tops of his arms, and the dip low in his back. Then, you set to work. You were no professional, but after that first pass, you could already feel the pronounced areas of tension under your fingers.

You pressed down into one just under his right shoulder and your boyfriend let out a groan.

“Are you okay?"

“M’alright. Keep on, please.” Marcus’s voice was muffled against the covers.

Assured that you weren’t hurting him, you pushed into the spot with the points of your fingers, trying to release the built-up tightness. It took a few moments, but at last you could feel the muscles and tendons relax, becoming loose against your fingers.

“How’s that?” You checked in.

“So much better, love.”

You smiled.

As he began to relax against the bed, you moved onto the next spot. Little by little, you increased the pressure, while Marcus made soft sounds low in his throat almost without noticing. His body was warm beneath you as your hands moved over him, both your skin a nearly same shade of brown. It put you in a peaceful headspace that calmed you both, and soon, you’d covered the whole top half of his back.

You spoke to him gently. “Show me where it hurts again?”

He reached back for your hand and placed it low and to the left of his spine. You murmured a soft “okay”, and he gave your hand a squeeze.

To start, you moved gently over the tender spot with just the tips of your fingers. Gradually, you returned to your previous technique, deep presses with the heel of your hand that smoothed out into caresses. The room was quiet except for the sound of his sighs letting you know you’d done well, and the muffled sounds of your hands. Even as the muscles in your fingers and forearms began to smart, you felt nothing but contentment at the closeness and mutual affection flowing between the two of you, and you were sure Marcus felt it too.

When you heard and felt his breathing slow, you slowed your hands as well, pleased that he was relaxed enough to fall asleep. Carefully, you climbed off his back and onto the covers beside him, turning out the bedside light. You jumped when you felt his strong arms curl around you.

“I love you, you know.” You felt the words rumble through his chest into yours. “And m’not just saying that cause of the massage, though it were proper nice. But because I really do.”

His eyes were almost closed, so he couldn’t see how your own threatened to fill with tears for the second time that night. You slowly ran a finger along the curve of his cheek.

“I love you, Marcus. More than you can imagine. I was just thinking earlier, like, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You pressed a kiss to his neck. His mouth quirked slightly, and he pulled you closer with his eyes still closed.

“Let me know when you find out, babes. Cause I‘ve been wondering the same thing since I met you.”

You smiled at him in the dark, your heart full to bursting with affection. You snuggled in even tighter and the two of you stayed that way, wrapped up in each other until you drifted off to sleep.