#Bez is with him and tries help

[ray935sworld]

The guy that's responsible for the monster supplies for Ducati has the opportunity to do the funniest shit ever in 2025.

(Marc + vr46 monster)

[nrdmssgs]

Tips to write for Nikolai (useful phrases)

Masterlist Tips to write for König (useful phrases)

AN: This guide is not meant to encourage you to start loving Russian language or culture. As much as I personally love Nikolai, I'll absolutely understand, there are people out there, that may feel bad, seeing him in CoD franchise, because of everything going on right now. This is not a call to start loving him, not a call to start describing this character as an absolute angel (he is not and never was). If seeing such a guide makes you feel bad - I'm genuinely sorry, and I'm open to a dialogue to make it better.

I tried to cover the most commonly used themes. However, it's impossible to make it short, yet all-covering. So please don't hesitate to come into my DMs with 'hey, I want Nikolai to say this thing in my fic - could you translate it in Russian for me?'. I'm always super-happy to help!

These are not my HCs, about what would Nik say, just some usefull phrases!

And the last one: Russian language uses Cyrillic letters. But I personally love to, at least try to hear, how other languages sound. So I provided translations (Cyrilic) and transliterations (Latin).

TW: swearing

Basic words, you may need for everyday chit-chat

Hello - Здравствуй Zdravstvui

Hi - Привет Privet

Good morning \ day \ evening - Доброе утро \ добрый день \ добрый вечер Dobroe utro \ dobryi den' \ dobryi vecher

Goodbye (untill next time) - До свидания Do svidaniia

Bye - Пока Poka

Thank you - Спасибо Spasibo

You are welcome - Пожалуйста Pozhaluista

Yes \ yes of course - Да \ Конечно Da \ Konechno

No - Нет Net

Petnames

Genderless (can be used, referring to both men and women, depending on relationship dynamic):

Angel - Ангел Angel

My soul - Душа моя Dusha moia

Treasure - Сокровище Sokrovishche

Sun \ little sun - Солнце \ Солнышко Solntse \ Solnyshko

My joy - Радость моя Radost' moia

Love - Любовь Liubov'

My light - Мой свет Moi svet

My happiness - Счастье моё Schast'e moe

Dream - Мечта Mechta

Little cloud - Облачко Oblachko

Little fire - Огонёк Ogonek

Precious - Прелесть Prelest'

Heart - Сердце Serdtse

Little tiger - Тигрёнок Tigrenok

Wonder - Чудо Chudo

Feminine and masculine versions of petnames (Here you can add 'my' moia for feminine, moi for masculine versions of names)

Priceless - Бесценная \ Бесценный Bestsennaia \ Bestsennyi

Divine - Божественная \ Божественный Bozhestvennaia \ Bozhestvennyi

Peerless - Бесподобная \ Бесподобный Bespodobnaia \ Bespodobnyi

Gorgeous - Великолепная \ Великолепный Velikolepnaia \ Velikolepnyi

Delightful - Восхитительная \ Восхитительный Voskhititel'naia \ Voskhititel'nyi

Darling - Дорогая \ Дорогой Dorogaia \ Dorogoi

Precious - Драгоценная \ Драгоценный Dragotsennaia \ Dragotsennyi

The only one - Единственная \ Единственный Edinstvennaia \ Edinstvennyi

Desired - Желанная \ Желанный Zhelannaia \ Zhelannyi

Golden - Золотая \ Золотой Zolotaia \ Zolotoi

Affectionate - Ласковая \ Ласковый Laskovaia \ Laskovyi

Beloved - Любимая \ Любимый Liubimaia \ Liubimyi

Sweetheart - Милая \ Милый Milaia \ Milyi

Tender - Нежная \ Нежный Nezhnaia \ Nezhnyi

The one, I can't stop looking at (lovingly) - Ненаглядная \ Ненаглядный Nenagliadnaia \ Nenagliadnyi

Incredible - Невероятная \ Невероятный Neveroiatnaia \ Neveroiatnyi

Charming - Очаровательная \ Очаровательный Ocharovatel'naia \ Ocharovatel'nyi

Dear (often said to someone, you consider your family) - Родная \ Родной Rodnaia \ Rodnoi

Sweet - Сладкая \ Сладкий Sladkaia \ Sladkii

Good one - Хорошая \ Хороший Khoroshaia \ Khoroshii

Love confessions and stuff around that

I love you. - Я люблю тебя. Ia liubliu tebia.

I like you. - Ты мне нравишься. Ty mne nravish'sia.

I fell in love with you at first sight. - Я влюбился (if man says it) \ влюбилась (if woman) в тебя с первого взгляда. Ia vliubilsia \ vliubilas' v tebia s pervogo vzgliada.

I can not live without you. - Я не могу без тебя жить. Ia ne mogu bez tebia zhit'.

You drive me crazy. - Я схожу по тебе с ума. Ia skhozhu po tebe s uma.

I wanna be with you. - Я хочу быть с тобой. Ia hochu byt' s toboi.

I think about you constantly. - Я постоянно думаю о тебе. Ia postoianno dumaiu o tebe.

You are my only one. - Ты мой (if the partner is masculine) \ моя (if the partner is feminine) единственный\ая. Ty moi \ moia edinstvennyi\aia.

I really need you. - Ты мне очень нужна (f partner) \ нужен (m partner). Ty mne ochen' nuzhna \ nuzhen.

We were meant for each other. - Мы созданы друг для друга. My sozdany drug dlia druga.

I'm ready to do anything for you. - Я готов/а на все ради тебя. Ia gotov/a na vse radi tebia.

I'm never giving you to somebody. - Я тебя никому не отдам. Ia tebia nikomu ne otdam.

Dirty talking

I want you. - Я хочу тебя. Ia hochu tebia.

I'm all yours. - Я вся твоя \ весь твой. Ia vsia tvoia \ ves' tvoi.

Your body drives me crazy. - Твоё тело сводит меня с ума. Tvoe telo svodit menia s uma.

I want to feel your touch all over. - Хочу чувствовать твои руки везде. Hochu chuvstvovat' tvoi ruki vezde.

You can do anything you want today. - Тебе сегодня можно всё. Tebe segodnia mozhno vse.

Take me the way, you want to. - Возьми меня, как ты хочешь. Voz'mi menia, kak ty khochesh'.

I want to make you moan. - Хочу заставить тебя стонать. Hochu zastavit' tebia stonat'.

Give yourself to me completely. - Отдайся мне весь (to m partner)\ вся (to f partner), без остатка. Otdaisia mne ves' \ vsia, bez ostatka.

Show me, that I belong to you only. - Покажи мне, что я только твоя \ твой. Pokazhi mne, chto ia tol'ko tvoia \ tvoi.

What do you want to do to me? - Что ты хочешь со мной сделать? Chto ty hochesh' so mnoi sdelat'?

Don't stop. - Не останавливайся. Ne ostanavlivaisia.

I want to taste you. - Хочу попробовать тебя на вкус. Hochu poprobovat' tebia na vkus.

Swearing

Fuck (as an interjection) - Блять Bliat'

Fuck off - Отъебись Ot"ebis' (to one person), отъебитесь ot"ebites' (to a group of people)

Bloody hell - Ёбаный пиздец (NOT used during sex!!) Ebanyi pizdets

Bastard - Сволочь (applied to any gender) Svoloch'

Motherfucker - Ублюдок \ уебан Ubliudok \ ueban

Son of a bitch - Сукин сын Sukin syn

Asshole - Жопа \ задница. Zhopa \ zadnitsa.

Cunt \ Pussy - Пизда (This and next one can in theory be used in bed, but i really strongly recommend you to NOT) Pizda

Cock \ Dick - Хуй Hui

Cultural extras to get in the mood

I sometimes meet this take, that Russian, as well as German language, sounds menacing or harsh. And as much as I understand, that it is subjective perception, I have something to add: you can modulate Russian speech as well as any other. You can sound like softest softie, coo and purr in Russian, if you want. Here is a good example: a guy just reads a poem, but you try and tell me, he is not straight seducing you.

Very nice perspective on how non-tourist Russia looks like. The guy travels to places, that still look and feel like USSR and somehow manages to survive. Don't mind him rambling, how good was soviet life - he doesn't mean it, he just says whatever people, he meets, would love to hear.

Another good channel to explore non-tourist Ru and some extreme weathers. Don't worry, there are no jumpscares and nothing scary happens on the videos.

Russian winter is a tricky one, because -40 С in Yakutsk can sometimes feel softer as -20 in Moscow. Humidity and wind are the keys.

No, vodka is not the only alcohol option) You can write a Ru character, that despises vodka and it will be 100% legit.

If you need domestic and interior references to Nikolais youth in soviet Ru - I can recommend HBOs Chernobyl series. An accuracy and attention to domestic details there is so great that it gets uncanny sometimes.

Stefan Kapičić does very tender and smooth version of Slavic accent. And he is 100% right to do so - it works good both for his character and the audience. If you want to hear heavier versions of Russian accent - here is a little funny video.

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Heaven

A marcmarc fluff oneshot (1.7k words)

Pecco had won, and despite Bez finishing eighth, seeing his best friend on the top step of the podium washed away all his disappointment. Seeing his boyfriend smiling so brightly with his brother standing just one step below probably helped too. Bez couldn't help but shift his focus from Pecco to the Spaniard beside him, he looked perfect up there.

A few hours had passed since the podium celebration, and now Bez was heading out to celebrate the way he liked best, with alcohol and the rest of the academy. As soon as he entered the bar, Pecco greeted him with a bright smile. They hugged without hesitation.

"Feeling good, amo?" Bez grinned at his friend, who nodded, still on cloud nine from his earlier win.

"Andavi fortissimo," Bez praised. It was true, Pecco had been incredibly fast, beating Marc was a big deal, especially to Vale's boys.

They made their way through the building, joining the others and striking up conversations.

It didn't take long for Bez to get drunk, becoming more giggly than usual as he clung to anyone who got too close.

Cele was the closest, not minding the arms wrapped around him as he continued to drink, far less drunk than the curly-haired boy attached to his hip. Everything was funnier to Bez in this state, whether it was Vale coughing or a girl coming over to hit on one of them, he couldn't stop the giggles that followed.

As the night went on, the bar became livelier. Bez's laughter filled the room. Cele, amused by his friend's antics, tried to keep Bez upright as they navigated through the crowd.

"Hey, Bez, maybe slow down a bit," Cele suggested, chuckling as Bez nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Wowww" Bez groaned, his words slurring slightly. "Are you making fun of me for getting eigth"

"Oh shut up" Cele rolled his eyes, pushing him into a seat in a quieter area of the bar, not wanting him to get too drunk. The last thing he wanted to do was be on "Babysit Bez" duty.

Pecco joined them, a drink in hand and a wide grin on his face. "Looks like someone's having a good time," he teased, hand patting the back of Bez's head.

Bez frowned up at him. "Cele's making fun of me, this isn't fun anymore" The trio knew he was just being dramatic, this is how it went for Bez. Clingy, overdramatic, then sad.

Bez leaned heavily against Cele, his head resting on his shoulder. Cele's arm wrapped around Bez's shoulders, keeping him steady.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Pecco asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Training," Cele replied, rolling his eyes. "Break just started and I can't even enjoy it yet."

Bez groaned dramatically as if he was the one scheduled to train, he had a week until his turn. "Do we have to? Can't we just stay here and drink forever?"

Pecco laughed. "Don't think you need any more to drink ever."

The night continued with stories, laughter, and more drinks, to Pecco's dismay. Eventually, Bez's energy began to wane. Cele noticed and leaned closer, having to speak louder into his ear to make his voice clear over the music.

"You okay?" Cele asked, concern in his eyes.

Bez nodded, though his eyelids were drooping. "Just tired," he mumbled.

Pecco sat down beside him. "Maybe it's time to call it a night. You've had enough fun for one evening." Bez sighed but didn't argue.

With Cele's help, Bez managed to stand up. Pecco took his other side, and together they guided him out of the bar. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy bar, and Bez took a deep breath, feeling a bit more alert.

"Thanks," Bez said, his voice soft. "You guys are so nice to me."

"Of course," Cele replied, smiling.

As they walked back to their hotel, the streets quiet and empty, Bez began to perk up at the thought of seeing Rubik. When they finally reached the hotel and made their way to Bez's room, they were greeted by an enthusiastic dog, who immediately bounded over, tail wagging furiously.

"Hey, buddy," Bez mumbled, kneeling down to cup Rubik's face, kissing all over the dogs fur. His excitement was contagious, and Bez's tired eyes lit up.

"Looks like someone missed you," Cele said with a smile, watching the joyful reunion, no matter how long the two were apart it was always like this when they came back together.

Pecco gave Bez a quick hug once he finally let go of the Pitbull, "Sleep well, Bez. We'll see you in the morning?"

Bez nodded, having no plan of falling asleep as he fell onto his bed, Rubik settling down beside Bez as he pulled his phone from his back pocket to call Marc.

The phone rang a few times before he heard a familiar voice on the other line, curls falling back as he rolled onto his back. "Cucciolo, where are you?"

"I'm on the way to my hotel, is everything okay mi cielo?" Marc asked, picking up on Bez's drunken state just by the way he spoke

"Come to mine?" He asked, slightly whining as he thought about being alone, now he was sad.

"Okay, I'll be there soon Marco" He confirmed before hanging up, he was about a 10 minute drive from Bez's hotel.

Bez waited impatiently, the Spaniard couldn't get there soon enough. He pulled Rubik closer, muttering in Italian about his boyfriend. Where was he? Was he close? Was he not coming? Did Marc not want to see him?

It was silly, really, Marc adored being with Bez, he was happiest with the Italian in his arms and Bez was well aware of that, Marc made sure to vocalize his feelings whenever he could so there was no need for him to get so worked up over this, though the alcohol wasn't working in his favour.

Having a dog like Rubik was great when Bez was alone, he could be as clingy as he wanted to the pitbull and he never cared, more than happy to be smothered by the racer.

Time passed by slow for both of them, Marc eager to get out of his car and hurry inside, knowing exactly where to go to find Bez's room, it was easier when they were staying in motorhomes by the track but because the two were staying in Germany a little longer than the others their managers made sure to book them hotels instead.

He soon reached the boys door, knocking three quick times before stepping back to wait for the door to swing open.

Like clockwork both Bez and Rubik shot up, greeting Marc with smiles on their faces. Before the Spaniard could even speak the Italians arms were wrapped around his shoulders, light kisses being pressed on the side of his face as he was pulled back into the room

"Hi, cielo, hi" Marc laughed, leaning into the touch as Rubik waited impatiently for some attention to be on him, too.

"I missed you so much" Bez confessed between kisses, pulling back to look at Marc, "missed your face."

He couldn't stop his lips from curling up as he looked at Bez, eyes shining as he examined his boyfriends face. Cheeks still flushed red from his activities earlier in the night, curls now frizzy from laying on his back while waiting.

"Did you have fun? You celebrated with Pecco, no?" Marc asked, looking away to give Rubik what he wanted, nice scratches under his jaw

Bez hummed, cheeks hurting because of the smile stuck on his face, he loved seeing Rubik and Marc together, his two favourite boys getting along. "Yeah, everyone went to a bar together, drank too much"

"You always drink too much" He responded playfully, laughing at the expression on Bez's face, he knew it was true but he'd never admit it.

It wasn't long before they ended up laying down together, Rubik curled up on Marc's left, Bez on his right with his head on his chest as if he wasn't nearly 10 centimeters taller than him. To them it didn't matter, this is how it went. Marc always made sure Bez knew he was his, his baby, his heaven, his Marco.

Marc's hand found its way into the Italians hair, nails softly scratching Bez's hair. He hummed contently, eyes closing as he focused on the feeling, something so comforting about the position they were in, they'd stay like this forever if they could.

The room was filled with a quiet sense of peace as they lay together. Bez's breathing started to even out, and Marc could feel the tension melt away from his boyfriend's body. Rubik snuggled closer to Marc's side, his warmth adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Marc softly whispered, "Te amo, Marco."

"Ti amo, Marc," Bez murmured back, a sleepy smile on his face. He felt completely at ease, surrounded by the two people he loved most.

After a few moments of silence, Bez spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for coming, amore."

Marc pressed a gentle kiss to Bez's forehead. "I'll always come to you. You know that."

Bez nodded, feeling his eyes grow heavier. He clung to the comfort of Marc's presence and Rubik's warmth. It was moments like these that made having to keep this a secret worth it. He was loved, cherished, and supported, and he knew that.

As the night deepened, Marc continued to run his fingers through Bez's hair, humming quietly as he gazed lovingly, Marc could look at him forever. Bez's breathing became slow and rhythmic, signaling that he had finally fallen asleep. Marc glanced down at him, his heart swelling with affection.

"Sleep well," Marc whispered.

The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of their breathing and the occasional snuffle from Rubik. The chaos of the day had faded, leaving only the serenity of the night. Marc stayed awake a little longer, savoring the moment and the sense of completeness it brought him.

Eventually, he too closed his eyes, letting sleep take over. Tomorrow could wait. For now, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

[formulapookie]

19 with marcmarc?

19. "What can I do to be enough for you?"

Bez never was particularly confident with himself, and it wasn't even his fault.

It began during middle school, when he used to get teased and joked about because of his way of expressing himself and the great sensitivity he had towards everything.

If he scraped his knee, tripped and fell or simply felt overwhelmed he'd cry, and that got him not a few comments.

"Marco don't you know boys don't cry?"

"But I hurt myself of course I cry"

"Look guys Marco is crying like a girl!"

"But I'm not a girl, I'm just hurt!" "Boys don't cry when they're hurt!"

And obviously since then he had grown mentally, he still cried, but tried to hide it more, that bit to ensure people wouldn't think he was weak for doing it.

And apart from that, Bez has always been a lover. A great one at that.

He always gave his 200% in every little thing in every relationship, no matter how much he had been together with his current partner.

His partner mentioned liking a certain type of flower on the first date or while talking on chat?

He would show up the date after with a bouquet with those flowers.

Food? He'd make sure to learn how to cook it or inform himself on where they did it better in the city and have the date there.

Dates, anniversaries, birthdays, he remembers everything.

He feels, no, knows, that if he forgets even one of these things whoever he's with will leave him.

He tries to be perfect, do everything, but they always end up leaving for someone else. Someone prettier, taller, funnier, someone better.

When he and Marc got together, it was unexpected.

They began gravitating closer and closer until collision and after some rough months of not knowing they finally got together for real.

And he still can't believe Marc Marquez is his boyfriend.

Because Marc is MARC, he's so perfect and beautiful and funny and amazing and Bez is, well Bez.

He's got nothing great about him, no one nicknamed him alien, no one was scared of confronting him on track. And Marc had dated Vale. So he had a big competition to relate to.

He tries so so hard to be perfect, each day more, learn about everything Marc loves and hates, understand how to make him relax or make him happy. But it simply doesn't seem to work.

Everything he does, for how perfect it can be, doesn't seem to trill the reaction he wants out of Marc.

He always looks so monotone with his answers and expressions, like Bez is doing the bare minimum, while he's trying so hard for everything.

One day he simply cannot take it anymore, he's already overwhelmed and he's trying to make a good looking Paella for lunch, asking Marc how it is, and all he gets is "yeah it's ok".

It doesn't have to be ok. it has to be perfect.

He knows he's about to cry and can't let Marc see him being so pathetic, so he excuses himself and runs off to the bedroom, breath caught in his throat as a river of tears flows from his eyes to the ground.

It's just a fucking dish but it's too much.

Why can't he do anything right for Marc?

What does he have to do?

Does he have to be someone else?

Does he have to be Valentino?

He's sobbing too loud, and only realizes when Marc basically breaks open the door to the bedroom.

"Marco are you ok? I heard you crying. Are you hurt? Do I need to call someone?"

"No no no I am ok sorry I'm coming back just - I'm sorry I ruined everything Marc so so sorry"

"Marco calm down, what's going on?"

"I don't understand"

"What don't you understand? tell me I want to help you"

"What am I doing wrong? Am I saying the wrong things? Am I acting the wrong way? Do I- do I have to be more like Vale? I can't understand what's wrong Marc. 

What can I do to be enough for you?"

Marc is frozen, because that's a lot, and Marco seems to be on the edge of a mental breakdown, and he doesn't know if he's capable of helping him.

He can just try and reassure him.

"Marco listen to me, can you hear me?"

Bez nods, his tears not hinting to a stop.

"You aren't - God I can't believe I have to say it - you aren't doing anything wrong, all the opposite of wrong! You are being so caring and so perfect. Why would you think you’re doing or saying something wrong? There’s absolutely nothing wrong in what you’re doing corazon, not in the slightest. And what - what has Valentino got to do with us? Marco Valentino is something I managed to bury in the past thanks to you, I’d never want you to be like him. He was - he was not what I needed, he was infatuation, you are not, you have to be you, never someone else.

You are enough already Marco, why would you ever think you’re not? You’re enough and so much more.

I neve had someone bring me peonies cause I mentioned once while talking about other things I liked them a lot and they remembered”

Bez can’t understand this shift in attitude. Marc is always somewhat distant and cold, with him like with everyone else.

“You don’t look like I do enough Marc. You always seem so distant from me, from what I do, from what I say and then I see how you were with Vale, how warm you were with him, how you laughed at everything he said, even the stupid jokes who weren’t funny, how you always looked for physical touch and how you gave it so openly and I want it to be like that for us but you just - you are just so cold.

If I try to hug you you flinch, you never initiate physical contact, you barely laugh at my jokes, I - I asked for the recipe to that Paella to your mother to make it look like home to you and you said it was ‘ok’ and I simply don’t understand why. Why were you so alive with him and with me the light in your eyes seems dead? I know I’m not the great world champion but I’m trying so hard, and I love the sport and I also love you and neither you nor the sport seem to love me back.

I didn’t think I ever had a chance with you to begin with, so I would understand if you want to walk away. If you want to break up I get it. I don’t expect you to keep me around”

Marc is sitting on the floor in front of Bez, looking at his boyfriend looking absolutely broken and desperate for an answer and his heart clenches.

He sees the pain, the doubt, the insecurity rise in his eyes and it hurts.

In a split second he’s next to him, hugging him tightly, like he probably only hugged Alex before in his life, he stays there, an embrace that doesn’t solve anything, Marc knows, but to Bez is the last drop.

He cries again, a lot, soaking Marc’s shirt, he can’t seem to stop, not when Marc keeps holding him so tight.

Once he’s calmed down, almost ten minutes later, he is a mess.

“Marco, I don't even know where to begin from. Valentino was something else entirely, he was my idol growing up, I grew up watching him win and triumph, we started whatever that was when I was 20 and I was a much different person you’re right. I was warm and innocent and under this spell Valentino had on me. It wasn’t love, it was adoration. That’s why I was like that, I wanted to be noticed, wanted to be seen, wanted to be considered.

The warmth it- I changed a lot. I had crashes, accidents, I had my heart broken, I got thrown to the media like a sheep to a pack of wolves when I was your age and it changed me. I don’t feel like I can be anything but cold and distant because I fear so much it’ll end up like with him.

And rationally I know you aren’t like him, but my head, it just- it works like that, I don’t feel like I can allow myself to be vulnerable because last time I did I was left so wounded I didn’t think I would’ve ever been able to be back on my feet.

The hugs Marco, it’s complicated. I love your hugs, really, but you need to understand something. During the last period of me and Valentino being what we where he got - not violent, never that - cruel. His touch was bruising, I felt it on me after hours, I couldn’t wash off that sensation of being dirty. It felt like every little touch he gave me, every hug was never just that, it was always leading to something he wanted from me.

And when you hug me so suddenly my brain runs back to when he grabbed me after races or podiums to go and have a quickie in some godforsaken corner of the track and it’s not that I didn’t like them but sometimes I just wanted tenderness and there wasn’t any. I know you’re different, I know, but he damaged me, and I don’t want you to be the one to repair me, because it’s a lot of fucking work and I want to do it myself, you don’t deserve the mess I am.

I should be the one to understand if you want to break up, because I’m a lot, and because I don’t treat you right. I love you Marco, never doubt that, I love you, and I’m sure the sport will love you back, because I know you’re giving it your all, it’ll come, it will love you back”

Bez now doesn’t cry anymore, he just feels a great impulse to hug Marc tight to let him know he’s there for him, but after what he just said he can’t.

“It’s not that I don’t want your hugs, but if you ask me before, or just let me know about it I won’t flinch like that”

“Can I hug you then? You look like you need it”

“Yeah, you can”

He wraps his arms around Marc, not like Marc did with him before, this is much softer, he lets Marc have his space while being also surrounded by Marco’s warmth.

“I’m sorry for what you went through with Vale. It’s not right. I’m also sorry for everything I said about you back then, about Valencia last year I’m sorry”

“Marco you have nothing to apologize for, you grew up with an idol, you followed what he said, it’s pretty normal to do, and you have managed to be different so there’s nothing to be sorry for ok?”

“Ok”

“And I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving you now that I found stability in my life. And I’m never going to let you think you’re not enough ever again, I am the one who’s sorry for acting like that. I promise for you I’ll be different”

“I love you”

Marc smiles, this time is genuine, Bez can see it in the way his eyes glint with that something he tried to reach for.

“I love you too”

They kiss, a slow and gentle kiss, just to say to the other “I’m here, and you can trust me”

“And that Paella was really good, not just ‘ok’, didn’t mean to be an  asshole”

“Next time would you prepare it with me?”

“Of course corazòn, of course”

ANGSTY/ HURT COMFORT PROMPTS

[safetycar-restart]

okay so all i can think about rn for corruption kink is like poly!vr46 like you and bezz teaching the omegas on how to get through their heats if you guys for some reason can’t be there. like you’re all curled up in the nest and one of the pups just starts grinding against you because he needs help and he’s just so horny and wants his alpha to fix it and make it better.

corruption kink also lowkey fits sub!oscar like he’s just so subby and doesn’t know what to do and he just wants his dom to help him but she’s far away for some reason so he facetimes her and is like help meeeeeee. so she teaches him how over the phone?

i don’t know it’s all just kinda brain rot atm but have a good day!

🔙🦴anon

Listen if this is your idea of brainrot then please continue because oh my god this is great. I’m gonna discuss each of these ideas, because of course.

POLY!VR46:

(For context, this is an au we discuss sometimes where Bez and reader are alphas and the rest of the academy are all omegas. You start off just dating Bez but slowly you and Bez kinda become the joint alphas for the entire academy)

So firstly, Bez would be SO into the idea of corrupting his cute omega pack mates. He LOVES wrecking them, isnt finished with them until they’re covered in cum and unable to remember their own names. So corruption kink? Absolutely.

I think it starts off pretty organically? Like you don’t plan it, but one day you and Bez are cuddling with Cele and discussing when Cele’s next heat is. You both realise that while you’ll try your best to get there, there’s a genuine chance Cele might have to spend the first day or two on his own.

And he is NOT pleased with this at all. Especially not because just the week before you and Bez had tagged teamed and fucked Pecco silly during his heat. Cele wants the same!!!

You try to reassure him that you’ll be there as soon as you can and remind him that he can look after himself. Bez pipes up then, telling Cele he can use dildos on himself and make himself cum over and over again.

Which of course gets Cele a little riled up and then suddenly you’ve got a whiney, pouty omega grinding against you and asking what he must do to himself. And Bez, the master of dirty talk, is more than happy to educate Cele on the things he can do, whispering absolute filth into his ear. While he does this, you move your hands to Cele’s hips and start directing his grinding, basically making him hump your thigh.

The poor thing leave a little puddle of slick on your thigh when he cums.

(And then a few days later you have all the other omegas demanding the same attention because they heard what you and Bez did to Cele)

SUB!OSCAR:

Yeah he’s such a subby baby!! He gets into this headspace where he just feels completely useless and dumb? And then even though he’s rock hard and more than capable of jerking himself off, he can’t!!! He’s too subby for that, all he can do it whine and huff and spam message you until you give in and FaceTime him.

The moment he answers, you’re greeted by a very pouty Oscar. His hair is a mess and his lips are bright red from how he’s been biting them.

When you ask what’s wrong, he just mumbles “help me” and then unceremoniously flips the camera so you can see the bulge in his boxers. You get it then, he’s all subby and very unhappy there’s no one around to play with his cock.

You tell him that you’ll help him, that he can make himself feel good if he just listens to you. At first he’s uncertain, not liking the idea of doing any of it himself but you promise him that he just needs to listen to you, he won’t have to think at all.

You ‘teach’ him how to hump a pillow, which is something you’ve had him do so many times before but you know he’d get all whiney and unhappy if you didn’t give him precise instructions and act like he’s never done this before.

He sounds so shocked when he tries and it feels good? He babbles on and on about how good it feels and thanks you for showing him and promises he’s being a good boy.

(Arguably good boys don’t spam you until you call them and then show you their cock unprompted but oh well, at least he’s cute)

[yeastinfectionvale]

Pecco woke up to a small hand slapping his face repeatedly.

He groaned, turning to face Celin who held a dog shaped teddy in his hands. Pecco shuffled back, pulling Celin into bed and falling back asleep. The little boy tossed and turned for a while before falling asleep again.

Pecco woke up again to Celin fast sleep in his arms and another arm tossed around his waist. Pecco turned his head to see Franky and Bez both asleep in his bed. He stared at the ceiling questioning his friendship with the pair before sliding out of bed. Franky moved into the empty space, still asleep. Bez muttered something in his sleep, an arm pulling Celin in. He walked into the kitchen yawning to see both his dads making out with each other. He groaned, Vale pulling away from Marc, an apologetic look on his face.

Pecco ate his breakfast, listening to his dads' plans and how they would be out of the house until dark. Pecco nodded, ready to watch Cele for the day. He finished his food as his parents left. With some free time he read his book until Celin waddled out of his room, sleep still in his eyes. He said something that resembled a sentence, the little boy still not really talking. He hadn't said his first proper word yet, but had created his own names for everyone and everything. Pecco picked Cele up, holding him for a while until he whined, hungry for his breakfast. The bottle he drank before crawling into his older brother's bed no longer filling him. Pecco put the little boy in his highchair, and then cut up some strawberries, leaving them on the highchair's tray.

Franky and Bez woke up, entering the kitchen to see Cele throwing fruit at anything that moved. A piece of strawberry hit Bez in the eye and the teen wiped his face, cursing. Franky laughed, strawberries in his hair.

"moth-" Cele began, gathering more projectiles in his chubby hands. "Motherfu-" He said lifted his hands, "motherfucker!" He exclaimed, hands crashing down on the tray, crushing the fruit juice going everywhere.

Pecco stared at his brother wide-eyed. Franky looked between the brothers. Bez fell to his knees laughing.

"Motherfucker!" Cele exclaimed again, chubby hand reaching out to Pecco. He picked him up, panicking slightly. "Chill it's fine, so what." Pecco turned to look at Bez with fire in his eyes. "This is Celin's first word. He said his first word he says while we are babysitting and he said motherfucker." The smile fell off both Franky and Bez's faces, the idea of both Vale and Marc hearing their little angel curse hitting them. If they didn't teach Cele another word, they were fucked. Franky started to pace, hands in hair as Bez scratched his eyebrows, thinking.

The trio moved to the living room. Franky tidied the kitchen up with Bez as Pecco tried to teach him the word 'Papa'. Franky sat on the floor as Bez took over trying to teach Celin the word 'Dog'. Celin refused to copy, just repeating his new favourite word over and over. Franky recorded Bez and Pecco panic after hearing Cele chant 'motherfucker' rhythmicly. He sent the video to Enea with strict instructions to send the video to everyone but make sure Vale and Marc didn't see it. Pecco groaned, calling one of two people he trusted in this situation.

Luca showed up quickly, not sure what was going on but if his nephew called asking for help he sure wasnt going to hesitate. He scanned all four boys for injuries and looked at Pecco confused. Cele gestured for Luca to pick him up, hugging his uncle and holding his face. "Motherfucker." He said sweetly as Luca froze, suppressing a laugh. He looked at the three teens. "Who taught him to curse?" Bez pointed at Pecco who pointed at Bez. Franky just shrugged. Luca set the boy down, kneeling in front of him. "Can you say Papa?" Celin smiled innocently. "Motherfucker!" Luca closed his eyes. This continued for a while before Luca threw the towel in, calling his Spanish counterpart.

Alex picked up the phone, lounging beside the pool. He smiled seeing his little nephew on the video call sitting on the sofa like a cherub. He was caugh off guard after hearing Cele curse. He cackled, his phone slipping out of his hand and landing inside the pool. The call cut and Cele was running around the house cursing. Luca scratched his head as Pecco started to pray. He didn't want his dads to stop trusting him to watch his brother. Franky and Bez started praying too, three prayers had to be better than one. Cele ran back into Luca's arms as the door opened.

"Cazzo." Luca muttered just loud enough for Cele to hear. Valentino and Marc walked in, making a beeline to greet all the boys. Cele reached out to Marc, babbling as he settled himself in his Papa's arms. Valentino and Marc made some small talk as Cele turned to look at Luca. "Cazzo!" He said with glee as Luca watched his life flash before his eyes.

[ray935sworld]

1, 24, 42 😸

So Don't leave, Tender and Savior - love the idea. It's giving soft fluff vibes. I decided on Marcmarc as a ship

TW: mention of self-hate

Bez was done. He wanted to throw everything away and hide in a corner of his father's shop, never to be seen again. He wouldn't even tell anyone - not Vale, Uccio, Cele, Pecco, Luca, Migno or Franky. No one. No one would knew and he just started a new life away from motogp.

He wanted to get away from the cameras, the stupid questions form the journos that either way only a handful of people would read cause he had lost their interest. He wanted to get away from Pecco's wins and Franco's hopeful attitude and he wanted to get away from Vale's helpful but useless actions.

He felt his stomach burn with disappointment. He had been sure that this time, it'd might work. And he ended in the gravel. He had been sure that he finally found the grip and the way how to handle the bike. Well he had handle it into the gravel. Right into the gravel. Wow. Perfect job.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could handle it. He tried but after all his dnfs and his finished outside the top 10 or the points, he started to question if it really had been talent or simply luck that bought him there.

It must have been luck. Why else would he struggle so much and be regularly out-performed? He just didn't deserve his place in the team - or any team - or motogp in general. He felt tears rise in his eyes.

The thought hurt so much. He wanted it so much. He was so desperate. He clinged to the idea of continuing his life as a motogp rider that the ideal of failure - which was quick to cost him his career in this field - destroyed him.

The self-hate was starting to bubble over. It felt like it was gut wrenching, like his whole inside was being turned upside down while being set on fire.

It hurt so much and he couldn't get rid of it

He tried to run away from it - literally. He was pacing around his motorhome hoping the movement could clear his mind.

As if his whole situation wasn't enough, he heard a key in the door. He wanted to scream. He didn't wanted to be seen like that. He didn't wanted to be cuddle or get affection he didn't deserve. He didn't need anyone's pity.

„JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed when he saw that the door was being opened to his bedroom. He hadn't even checked who it was.

So now he was standing face to face with his really confused - and shocked, maybe even scared, boyfriend. Bez froze immediately. He had never yelled at Marc. He never though he would or could. He never wanted to scream.

„Okay" Marc whispered and was slowly turning around.

„No." Bez said fastly. The burning in his stomach had disappeared. Instead it was now in his face but this burning was more an embarrassed burning. It was shame at having yelled. „No, please, amore, I... Im sorry. Please. Don't leave."

Marc seemed hesitant but one look in Marcos desperate eyes proved him that leaving him would be the worst idea.

He gave him a tender smile and nodded. Quietly he hold his hand out to Bez, making him decide on their level of physical touch. Even though touch was Bez love language, Marc knew how easy he could be overstimulated, especially when he was a nervous reck like now.

Bez didn't smile back, instead he just reached for the older rider and pulled him closer. He hugged him close, pressed himself against him. He sobbed quietly.

Marc closed his eyes and returned the hug with all his strength. He wanted to make the Italian feel safe - safe and protected in his arms. He hugged him and softly kissed his head. He let his fingers roam through the curls and whispered sweet things about his lover. He wasn't sure he understood or actually heard them but that was okay.

He succeeded. The burning in Marcos cheeks and stomach eased. He didn't feel desperate anymore and he remembered that he couldn't just run away and disappear. He couldn't leave his friends, his family and his lover behind. Simply because there was no place as safe as his lovers arms and he'd give that up for nothing in the world.

He knew how much he and others worked for him to be here and he knew he couldn't give up cause one year didn't go as hoped. He knew all that simply cause Marc wrapped him in his arms.

„You're my savior" Bez whispered and meant it.

[vettelsbitch]

Kidfic anon back here 🥰 Just been thinking about your drabbles once again and came up with something because 14th Feb is just around the corner: do you think either of them considers inviting the other to a dinner date? And THEN, I thought, Bez probably won't because of Theo. And Cele doesn't want Bez to feel like he has to get somebody to watch Theo. BUT what if Theo is our little match maker? Like, they've been talking about Valentine's in kindergarten and Theo understands that many people spend that day with people they like and since both of them really like Cele, he could come over? And then, he's smiling in such a cute way that Bez can't say no (plus, Bez also wants to have Cele over as much as possible!!!) and now he has to somehow ask Cele over for VALENTINE'S

Bestie, darling, your brain! I'm still thinking about the holidays drabble and what they would do when Cele goes to Bez's house and meets the parents and all that because I would like to write something for that but I can't promise when the muses might hit me.

BUT! Now I'm thinking Valentine's, maybe something not quite happened during the holidays (Bez walking in on Cele getting changed into a nice outfit, Bez's sister poking fun at her brother because he is basically 🥺🥺 at Cele, maybe they almost kiss but Matteo calls Bez over and it's a 'i should go' 'yeah' 'yeah' and ofc it reminds Bez that he has a kid and Cele is young and shouldn't be tied down), and now they've been once again a bit distant, with Cele busy with exams, but they still see each other it's hard to keep Teo away from his bestie! And of course Bez is also so happy whenever they see him, the rare occasion when they catch Cele coming back when they're going out to the park and he, no matter how tired he is, tells them to wait for him, running up the stairs and coming back without his backpack not even five minutes later. Bez loves sitting next to him, Rubik between their legs, while they look at Matteo climbing and running around with friends, soon enough coming back to them and demanding that they play ball with him.

Bez doesn't really realize Valentine's is getting close until Luca starts talking about dinner reservations. And of course his first thought is wondering if Cele has plans. His second thought is what about Teo, his friends have their own plans so it's not like he can ask them to watch him. And he isn't even sure if Cele likes him (Luca is about to hit his friend because Bez must be really blind to not see how Cele looks at him, and how Cele used to look at Luca before he made it very clear that they were just friends).

On the other side Cele wants to invite Bez to go out with him so bad, but he doesn't want to inconvenience him. And he would like to include Teo too! He's trying his damnedest to come up with some idea, his search history ranges from 'dates for people with kids' to 'how to tell if he likes me' to 'spiderman valentines'

And then, just a mere couple days before Matteo brings home a school project that he hides against his chest like it's a secret, Bez only manages to catch a glimpse at pink paper and red glitter. When he tries to ask him, Teo just looks up at him with his big brown eyes, the little gap in his front teeth that always makes Bez's mom smile, and crosses his arms tighter against his chest. "Nothing." Bez would want to know more but how bad could some kind of school project be? Teo is a smart kid, if he needs help he will ask for it.

But Matteo doesn't ask for Bez's help, the next day he has to do a double shift at work, covering for someone that's sick (which will also mean he has Valentine's day free), and when he comes back home he sees Luca sitting next to Teo, bending his tall body enough to reach the little desk he has in his room. They're so focused that they don't seem to realize Bez has gotten home, so he spends a second looking at them, the mess of coloring pencils next to the and Rubik sleeping on Matteo's bed.

When Luca realizes he's there, he whispers something to Teo, standing up while he scrambles to cover whatever they were doing. Luca asks Bez about his day, and they manage to distract him quickly enough that it's not until later that he remembers it and thinks about messaging Luca about it. But who can blame him, he's really tired and Teo is dozing off against his chest so who cares.

Anyway, the next day seems normal at first, Bez helping Teo get ready for school like always before he seems to remember something in the middle of brushing his teeth, running to his room.

The next thing Bez sees is his kid is walking up to him with a glittery heart that says "Papà" in big blue letters in the middle. And so it all makes sense.

"Happy Valen'ines, Papà"

Bez would kneel down, kissing Matteo's cheek and hugging him, uncaring if the glitter ends up all over his shirt. "Thank you, baby!"

Of course the heart ends on the fridge next to all the other drawings. Since the secret is out Teo would tell him excitedly about it, how at school they told them about the holiday and started making the cards.

"For the people you really like!" He says, before he seems to remember something else. "We need to give it to Cele!!"

Bez would be so surprised, like what??? Cele? And Teo would explain that Luca helped him because he knew how to write Papà but not how to write Cele and ofc they need to give it to him, because they like him so much. Bez promises that they will go see Cele after school is done so Teo agrees to go without trying to run to Cele's door. Bez spends the hours alone at home in a haze of 'oh god, I hope Cele doesn't have plans' and 'should I buy something else for him?' and 'of course we really like him'

He does end up getting a box of chocolates on his way to get Teo from school, and he feels as nervous as he was when he was a teen and had his first kiss. He manages to convince Teo to eat before they go and knock on Cele's door. Bez doesn't know if he wants him to be in or not, his heart feels like it's going to jump ship.

But ofc Cele opens the door, a wide grin in his dumb face the moment he sees them. Teo has the heart (Cele's is pink with orange letters) in his hands and Bez has the chocolates in his hoodie, hidden for now.

I imagine the exchange would go a little like:

"For me? Thank you Teo!"

"Yes, because I like you Cele!"

Cele's eyes moving up to Bez. And Bez would have a second of intense bravery while looking at his dark eyes and rosy cheeks.

"Would you like to come to the park with us? And have dinner later?"

Cele would stutter and flail. "If you guy's are not busy."

And that second there would be so intense, Cele's eyes shining, still crouching down to be at Teo's height, looking up at Cele, his mouth open in surprise shifting slowly into a massive smile. Bez knows he probably looks dumb, blushing and smiling, and he knows that Luca is going to be asking him how it went early next morning, but right now he doesn't have to worry about work and he basically invited Cele on a Valentine's date, with his kid, so everything is great.

"Of course not, we like you a lot."

Then they're on their way to the park, Teo holding onto Cele's hand before running towards one of his friends. Bez and Cele sit down on their usual bench, and then Bez would bring out the box of chocolates, his cheeks burning up even more than before.

"For you, Cele."

"Marco.. thank you so much."

And Cele would blush and kiss his cheek and Bez knows he's probably doing something right.

And then they have dinner and they watch Spiderman yet again and Cele and Teo fall asleep against Bez, and thankfully the next day is Saturday (because it's my universe and I say so) so he doesn't have to worry and can allow himself to rest his head against Cele's curls, grabbing Teo closer and fall asleep himself.

[scrollonso]

Before — 4 out of ? (last part)

Marc leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the telemetry in front of him. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glow on the screens that displayed endless rows of data: throttle percentages, brake pressures, lap times.

Normally, this was where Marc found solace — in the precision, in the control. The data was supposed to make sense, to provide answers. But today, it was just noise. Just meaningless numbers and lines that blurred together, his mind refusing to process any of it.

He had managed to push through practice, forcing himself to focus on the track, on the bike beneath him, even though his heart wasn’t in it. The adrenaline of the session had carried him through, numbing the emotions that simmered beneath the surface. But now, sitting alone in the garage, the silence was deafening. The tension from two weeks ago still weighed on him, a heavy, invisible force that pressed down on his shoulders and made it hard to breathe.

Marc glanced at the door of the garage, half-expecting Marco to walk in at any moment. But he knew better. Marco was next door, in the VR46 garage with Valentino. Marc hadn’t see him yet, and a part of him was grateful for that. He didn’t want to see him, not after everything that had happened. It was easier this way — or so he kept telling himself. Easier to avoid the confrontation, to pretend that nothing had changed. But deep down, Marc knew it was a lie. Avoidance didn’t erase the memories. It didn’t make the guilt of goinh down on Marco in the same bed he slept next to Gemma in go away.

He shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him as he tried to focus on the telemetry again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of Marco standing at his door, bruised and broken, asking for comfort that Marc had ultimately pushed away. That Marc had sworn he'd give him. Sworn he'd be different than Valentino. It was foolish, thinking he was better than the older Italian man. Valentino's love was the only kind he'd ever known. He didn't know how to give Marco the softness he so deeply craved.

From the thin wall separating their garages, Marc could hear faint voices seeping through the cracks. Valentino’s unmistakable tone drifted in first, that easy, confident cadence laced with amusement as he laughed at something Bez had said. The sound was light, casual, but it gnawed at Marc in a way he couldn't ignore. His gut twisted, an all-too-familiar mix of jealousy and regret creeping up on him like an unwanted shadow.

Marc gritted his teeth, trying to push it down, trying to focus on the telemetry in front of him, but the noise from the other side of the wall was relentless. It filled the silence of his own garage, drowning out any hope of distraction. He clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to the screen, desperately clinging to the numbers, the data, anything to anchor him in the present and away from the memories that threatened to surface.

But then, cutting through Valentino's laughter, he heard it — Marco’s voice. Low, tense, with an edge that made Marc's heart skip a beat. It wasn't like the playful tone he usually associated with Marco in the paddock, where he bantered with the other academy riders and the teams mechanics. No, this was different. More serious. More strained. The sound of it sent an involuntary shiver down Marc’s spine, his body betraying the calm facade he was trying so hard to maintain.

He leaned forward in his chair, instinctively straining to hear more, to catch even a fragment of what Marco was saying. It was a ridiculous impulse, he knew that. Eavesdropping wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t make the past two weeks any less painful, but he couldn’t help himself. Marco was so close — just on the other side of that thin wall — and yet he felt a million miles away. That wall might as well have been a fortress for all the good it did Marc.

The familiar ache settled in his chest, that gnawing emptiness that had taken root ever since Marco had left his room that night in Silverstone. And now, hearing Marco's voice, his Marco's voice, knowing he was right there with Valentino, only made it worse.

Marc’s fingers dug into the edge of the seat below him, the metal biting into his skin as a surge of jealousy flared up inside him. He could hear Valentino’s voice so clearly now, the way he laughed and encouraged Marco, and it twisted something deep in Marc’s gut. He hated it. Hated that Valentino was the one there with Marco, the one offering him comfort and support.

It should have been him. Marc clenched his jaw, trying to push the thought away, but it was impossible. He was the one who understood Marco’s pain, who knew what it was like to carry the weight of the crashes, the injuries, and the pressure to keep going despite it all. Ok, sure Valentino understood all of that, too, but he was the one who had held Marco when he was vulnerable, who had seen the cracks beneath his confident exterior. And now, Valentino was swooping in, offering the comfort that Marc had denied Marco two weeks ago.

The sound of Valentino’s voice grated on his nerves, each word a reminder of how much he had been hurt by the man who now sat just on the other side of the wall. Valentino had been everything to him once — mentor, lover, rival — and the way things had ended between them had left scars that still hadn’t healed. Marc had been crushed by Valentino’s coldness, by the way he had been discarded when things got tough. And now, to see Valentino playing the supportive figure for Marco… it was too much.

Marc’s grip tightened on the desk, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t stand the thought of Valentino anywhere near Marco, not after everything that had happened between them. He couldn't stand the thought of Vale manipulating a handful of riders just because he knew he could. They didn't deserve that. Marco didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be hurt the way Marc had been.

But at the same time, Marc knew that he had pushed Marco away. He had been the one to tell him to go to Pecco, to find comfort elsewhere. And now, here he was, wishing he could take it all back. Wishing he could be the one by Marco’s side, reassuring him, holding him the way he had that night. But he had made his choice. He had drawn the line, and now he had to live with the consequences.

Through the thin wall, Valentino’s voice cut through again, this time softer, more intimate. “You’re doing great, Bez. Just keep pushing. You’ll get it.”

Marc’s stomach churned at the words. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to picture Valentino kneeling before the younger man, hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. It brought back too many memories, too much pain. He wanted to be the one telling Marco he was doing great, that he would get through this. But he wasn’t. And now, Valentino was filling that role, the same way he had once done for Marc before everything fell apart.

Marc exhaled sharply, trying to shove the emotions down, trying to focus on anything but the voices coming through the wall. But it was no use. All he could think about was Marco, and the fact that Valentino was the one offering him comfort, the way he had once offered it to Marc before leaving him behind.

In the next room, Marco forced a smile as he nodded along to Valentino’s words. He could feel Marc’s presence, even though they were separated by a wall. He saw the Gresini colours through the cracks, heard the quiet Catalan from the other side, heard that name. He wished it was Alex sharing a wall with him, leaning against the same cutout of drywall as him, it would hurt less if that was the case. Every laugh from Valentino stung, every word of encouragement felt like salt in a wound he couldn’t quite heal. But he kept his head down, pretending that everything was fine. Pretending that Marc’s rejection hadn’t left him feeling more alone than ever.

Valentino clapped a hand on Marco’s shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “Don’t let it get to you, Bez. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think.”

Marco offered a weak smile in return. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

The words felt hollow in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. Especially with Marc just on the other side of the wall.

In Marc’s garage, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, his elbows digging into the tacky leather of his suit. The weight of his own guilt pressed down on him like a vice, making it hard to breathe. Gemma had stopped by earlier, offering him soft words of encouragement, but her presence hadn’t lifted the oppressive cloud hanging over him. If anything, it had only made things worse. She had looked at him with so much concern, so much love, and all Marc could think about was how undeserving he was of any of it.

He didn’t deserve her kindness, her loyalty — not when he was still so tangled up in thoughts of Marco. Not when every time he looked at her, all he could see was the betrayal in her eyes if she ever found out what he had done. He had cheated on her with another rider, and no amount of excuses could erase that. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how far he had fallen.

Marc clenched his fists, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. He could hear the murmur of voices through the thin wall separating his garage from VR46, muffled but unmistakable. Marco’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, softer this time, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“I’m trying, Vale. I really am.”

The quiet desperation in Marco’s voice pierced through Marc’s defenses, driving a sharp ache into his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, but the words lingered, wrapping around him like chains. He knew what it was like to try so hard, to push through the pain and the doubt, only to feel like it was never enough. He knew how much Marco was struggling, both physically and emotionally, and it tore at him that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He wanted to reach out, to tell Marco that he understood, that he knew exactly what it was like to fight against your own body and mind. He wanted to tell him that he was trying too, that every day was a battle just to keep going. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The line had already been drawn, and he couldn’t cross it now, no matter how much he wanted to.

So instead, he sat there, listening to Marco’s voice through the wall, every word cutting into him like a knife. He could hear Valentino’s low, reassuring tone, could imagine the way the older man was probably looking at Marco right now, offering him the kind of comfort that Marc had refused to give. It twisted something deep inside him, a bitter mix of jealousy and regret that he couldn’t shake.

Why had it come to this? Why was Valentino the one Marco turned to now? After everything that had happened between them, Marc didn’t want Valentino anywhere near Marco. He didn’t trust him, didn’t believe for a second that Valentino wouldn’t end up hurting Marco the same way he had hurt him all those years ago. Marc had been in Marco’s shoes once, desperate for validation, for affection, and Valentino had taken that and twisted it into something painful, something damaging. The scars from that time still lingered, buried deep beneath the surface, but they were there. And Marc didn’t want Marco to go through the same thing.

But what choice did he have? He had pushed Marco away, told him to find comfort elsewhere. And now, that comfort was coming from the one person Marc didn’t want involved. The one person who had left him broken and alone.

Marc’s grip tightened on the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, the pressure grounding him, keeping him from spiraling too far into his own thoughts. He couldn’t let himself go there, couldn’t afford to let his emotions take control. Not now, not when everything was so precariously balanced. He had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it, no matter how much it hurt.

Through the wall, he could hear Marco’s voice again, quieter now, like he was struggling to keep it together. Marc’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, the urge to get up, to go to him, almost overwhelming. But he stayed where he was, forcing himself to remain still, to do nothing. Because that’s all he could do now — nothing.

Marco leaned back in the chair in the corner of the garage, his legs bouncing with nervous energy. He stared at his phone, willing Alessandro to respond. His mind was racing, and the weight of everything he was carrying felt too heavy.

"Ale," he typed out, his fingers moving faster than he could think.

"ALESSANDRO."

"Pls come back."

"Sto impazzendo."

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Marco bit down on his lip, glancing up at the team bustling around him, seemingly oblivious to the storm inside him. He needed Alessandro here. Alessandro was the only one who knew. The only one he could talk to about… Marc.

Finally, his phone buzzed with a reply.

"omw 🤙"

Marco let out a shaky breath, his body sagging in relief. Alessandro would understand. He always did. He was the only one that could.

A few minutes later, Alessandro appeared in the doorway, his face immediately softening when he saw the look on Marco’s face. He walked over quickly, concern etched in his features.

"Hey, what’s going on?" Alessandro asked, his voice low as he pulled a chair over to sit next to Marco, the garage emptier now, safer without Vale lingering since he had found his way to the Ducati garage by now.

Marco looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. "It’s… him," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Alessandro sighed softly, leaning in closer to hear him better. "What about him?"

Marco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I heard him. Through the wall. I know he’s there, Ale. And I can’t stop thinking about him."

Alessandro frowned, glancing at the wall Marco had mentioned. "Did he say anything?"

"No… not really. But… he’s there. And it’s just…" Marco trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. "It’s stupid. You know?"

Alessandro nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

Marco swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I keep trying to move on. To focus on racing, on the team, on anything else. But every time I hear his voice, it’s like everything comes rushing back. Everything that happened between us. Especially last time."

Alessandro leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he listened. He had been there when things had fallen apart between Marco and Marc. He had seen the aftermath, the pain that Marco had tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And he had been the one Marco had confided in when it all became too much.

"What do you want to do about it?" Alessandro asked gently, his voice calm and steady.

Marco shook his head, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I don’t know. I want to talk to him, but I can’t. Not after everything. It’s just… too much. And then there’s Vale, and… I don’t know what to do, Ale. I feel like I’m losing my mind."

Alessandro reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Marco’s shoulder. "You’re not losing your mind, Marco. You’re just dealing with a lot right now. But you’ve got me, hm? I’m here. Whatever you need."

Marco looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and despair. "Thanks, Ale. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Alessandro gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Take it one step at a time. And if you need to talk to him… maybe that’s something you’ll do when you’re ready. But don’t push yourself too hard."

Marco nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to face Marc again. But for now, having Alessandro by his side was enough.

But don’t push yourself too hard.

Don’t push yourself too hard.

Marco soaked in Alessandro's words, or at least he tried to. He didn't care once he stood up from his chair and left the garage, shamelessly wandering to catch even the slightest glimpse of Marc.

Marc didn't notice Marco at first. He was too absorbed in the numbers on the screen, trying desperately to find solace in the familiarity of his data. But something tugged at the corner of his consciousness, a familiar presence that he couldn't ignore. He looked up, and there, standing in the doorway of his garage, was Marco.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, the buzzing of the lights and the hum of the paddock fading into the background. Marco looked at him, his eyes shadowed with an emotion Marc couldn’t quite place — anger, hurt, maybe even regret. Marc’s breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in weeks, he felt completely exposed, as though Marco could see right through him.

Just as he processed the other mans presence he turned around, caught off guard by the sight of Ale filming the sunset.

All he could do was smile and look away. Fuck. Knowing him, this was going to be posted and everyone would see him acting a fool. Looking at Marc. Looking for Marc.

The day had dragged on with a suffocating heaviness that clung to the atmosphere of the paddock. The tension in the air was palpable, and Marco had tried to lose himself in the routine of race preparation, but his mind was elsewhere. Despite Alessandro's comforting words, Marco couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was spiraling out of his control.

It was late afternoon when Marco finally stepped out of the back of the garage. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows across the tarmac and bathing everything in a golden hue. The cool breeze offered little comfort as he took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

As he rounded the corner, he froze. Marc was standing just a few feet away, having stepped out of his own garage at the exact same moment. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Marc looked as tormented as Marco felt. His usually sharp, confident gaze was clouded with guilt and something else — something that made Marco’s heart clench painfully in his chest. They stood there, neither of them saying a word, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Marco couldn’t take it anymore. "Marc," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the paddock. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, didn’t know how to bridge the chasm that had opened between them. But he knew he couldn’t keep avoiding this, couldn’t keep letting the silence fester.

Marc took a hesitant step forward, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should. "Marco," he replied, his voice rough and strained. "I—" He stopped, his expression twisting with frustration and regret. "I’m sorry," he finally said, the words spilling out in a rush. "For everything. For pushing you away, for… for everything I did."

Marco swallowed hard, the apology hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had wanted to hear those words, but now that he had, they felt hollow, empty. "Why now, Marc?" he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. "Why are you sorry now, after everything? Before the race?"

Marc’s face fell, and he looked away, unable to meet Marco’s gaze. "Because I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared of how much I felt, scared of losing control. We slept together, Marco. I have a girlfrienf and I continue to come crawling back to you." He whispred, as though he was full of shame. He should be, Marco thought. Though he knew he didn't mean it. "I hurt you because of it. I didn’t want to admit how much you meant to me, how much you still do."

Marco’s breath caught in his throat, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over him. He had dreamed of hearing Marc say those words, but now that they were out in the open, they didn’t bring the relief he had expected. Instead, they only deepened the ache inside him.

The tension between them was unbearable, the air thick with everything they weren’t saying. Marc's apology hung in the space between them, raw and full of regret. Marco’s heart pounded in his chest, torn between the pain he felt and the pull he could never fully escape.

“Marc…” Marco whispered again, his voice wavering as he tried to hold onto his resolve. But something in Marc’s eyes, the depth of his guilt, the vulnerability he so rarely showed, shattered the last of Marco’s defenses.

Before either of them could think, before the weight of their words could push them further apart, Marco stepped forward. His hands found their way to Marc’s face, cupping his jaw with a tenderness that belied the turmoil inside him, a tenderness that Marc never dared to think about giving Marco. He saw Marc’s breath hitch, his eyes wide with surprise and something deeper, something they both had been avoiding for too long.

And then, Marco kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle; it was fierce, desperate, like trying to hold on to something slipping away. Marc responded instantly, his hands gripping Marco’s waist as he pulled him closer, closing the distance that had kept them apart for so long. The kiss was messy, full of pent-up emotions, a mixture of anger, sadness, and the undeniable love that neither of them could deny any longer.

Marco could feel Marc trembling against him, could feel the way Marc was pouring everything into this one moment, as if trying to make up for all the hurt with a single kiss. He kissed back with the same intensity, letting himself get lost in the sensation, in the taste of Marc that he had missed so much.

For a fleeting moment, it was just them, lost in a world where nothing else existed. The noise of the paddock faded into the background, drowned out by the rush of blood in their ears and the rapid beating of their hearts. The world outside the garage — the spectators, the cameras, the relentless demands of the race — ceased to matter. In that kiss, the pain, the misunderstandings, and the mistakes that had plagued them melted away, leaving only the raw, undeniable connection they had began to share.

They clung to each other as if trying to capture something they had both feared was gone forever. Marc’s grip tightened on Marco’s waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of Marco’s shirt as if afraid to let go. He poured everything he had into that kiss, desperate to convey the feelings he could never quite articulate, the feelings he'd never dare to articulate. Not with Gemma still determined to stay by his side. The love that had always been there despite everything. Despite Marco's hurt. Despite Marc's hesitance to love another man in fear that he would hurt him how Vale had all those years ago. Marco responded with equal intensity, his hands trembling as they cradled Marc’s face, holding him close as if he could anchor himself in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

But as the kiss deepened, as Marc’s lips moved against his with a need that bordered on frantic, Marco felt something else rising within him — something cold and sharp that pierced through the warmth of their embrace. The tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, and with them came the cruel reminder of the reality they couldn’t escape. The weight of everything unsaid, of every moment of doubt, of every wound they had inflicted on each other, came crashing down on him with a force that stole his breath.

He pulled back suddenly, gasping for air as if he had been drowning and only now resurfaced. His forehead rested against Marc’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, and Marco struggled to steady himself, to hold on to the fragile moment before it shattered completely. “Marc…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the words trembling on the edge of a sob. He could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks, each one a testament to the depth of his pain. “This… this doesn’t fix anything.”

Marc’s eyes, wide and desperate, locked onto Marco’s as if searching for something — anything — that would tell him they still had a chance. His hands, which had been holding Marco so tightly, softened their grip but didn’t let go. He was afraid, Marco realized, afraid that if he did, this fragile connection between them would break forever. “I know,” Marc said, his voice hoarse and heavy with the weight of everything he had been holding back. “But I needed you to know… I still need you, Marco. Please.”

The plea in Marc’s voice cut through Marco’s heart like a knife, and he had to close his eyes against the flood of emotions threatening to pull him under. The tears came faster now, spilling down his cheeks unchecked. He knew Marc meant every word, knew that Marc’s need for him was as real and as powerful as his own feelings. But he also knew that words and desperate kisses couldn’t undo the damage that had been done. They couldn’t erase the betrayal, the lies, the hurt that had driven them apart in the first place.

Yet, in that moment, with the echo of Marc’s lips still lingering on his, Marco allowed himself to believe, if only for a fleeting heartbeat, that maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. It was a dangerous, fragile hope, one that wavered like a candle flame in the wind, threatening to be snuffed out by the harsh realities of their past. But still, it flickered, offering a glimmer of warmth in the cold uncertainty that surrounded them. Despite the hurt, the betrayal, and the countless times they had torn each other apart, Marco wanted to believe that the love they shared — something that had always been so raw, so intense — might still be strong enough to mend the fractures that time and pain had wrought between them.

The memory of their kiss lingered like a bittersweet melody, playing over and over in Marco’s mind, making it hard to think of anything else. It was the taste of what they could be, of the connection that had always drawn them together no matter how far they strayed. But as much as he wanted to cling to that hope, as much as he yearned to believe that they could find their way back to each other, the fear was still there, dark and insistent. It whispered doubts into his mind, reminding him of every time they had tried and failed, of every promise that had been broken. The fear that this fragile sliver of possibility might only lead to more heartache loomed large, casting a long shadow over the hope that flickered in his heart.

Marc seemed to sense the hesitation, the conflict that warred within Marco, and his hands tightened their hold just slightly, as if by sheer force of will he could keep Marco from slipping away. The desperation in his eyes had softened into something more tender, more pleading, as if he understood the weight of the decision Marco was wrestling with. “Let me take you back,” Marc whispered, his voice gentle but filled with a quiet intensity that spoke of how much this meant to him. “I’ll get us a hotel. Please, Marco.”

The words hung in the air between them, filled with a mix of hope, longing, and a deep-seated need for something that had always felt just out of reach. Whether or not Marc’s offer was just about finding a place to be alone together, Marco didn't care.

But as Marco stood there, looking into Marc’s eyes, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing uncertainty that gripped him. Could they really start over? Could they just pick it up where they left off and pretend like the hurt had never happened? The fear of repeating their mistakes, of falling into the same destructive patterns, weighed heavily on Marco’s chest. Yet, despite it all, there was something in Marc’s voice, in the way he looked at Marco with such unwavering determination, that made it hard to say no.

Marco searched Marc’s eyes, feeling the weight of the choice before him. The pull between them was undeniable, stronger than the pain, stronger than the doubts that plagued his mind. And despite everything, despite the voice in his head warning him of the risks, Marco found himself nodding, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Marc to see.

Marc’s expression softened with relief, his breath escaping in a shuddering exhale as if he’d been holding it all this time. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing gently over Marco’s cheek. There was no need for more words; they both understood what this meant.

Marc reached out, taking Marco’s hand in his, their fingers intertwining naturally as if they belonged together. With one last glance around to ensure no one else was watching, Marc led him away from the garages, their pace quickening as they moved out of sight. They walked side by side, neither speaking, but the silence between them was comfortable, laden with the unspoken understanding that they were heading toward something they both needed—somewhere they could be alone, where the weight of the outside world couldn’t reach them.

The drive to the hotel was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Marco’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumble of emotions — anticipation, fear, hope. He kept his gaze focused on the road ahead, but every so often, he’d glance over at Marc, catching the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension. It was clear that Marc was just as nervous, just as uncertain about what came next, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression, a determination that gave Marco a sliver of comfort.

They arrived at the hotel, a discreet place on the outskirts of town, far from prying eyes. Marc parked the car, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The gravity of what they were about to do settled over them, heavy and palpable. Then, without a word, Marc got out of the car, walking around to open Marco’s door. He extended his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Marco took it, allowing Marc to help him out. Their fingers remained laced together as they made their way inside.

Marc handled the check-in quickly, keeping his voice low as he spoke to the receptionist. Marco stood a little behind him, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the surroundings. Everything felt surreal, like they were in a bubble removed from reality, where the usual rules didn’t apply.

When Marc returned with the key, he offered Marco a small, reassuring smile before leading him toward the elevators. They stood close together as the doors slid shut, the quiet hum of the elevator the only sound between them. Marc’s hand found its way back to Marco’s, squeezing it gently as if to remind him that he wasn’t alone in this.

The room they entered was simple, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the privacy, the sense of sanctuary it offered. Marc closed the door behind them, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the room. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, both searching for the right thing to say, but words seemed inadequate.

Finally, Marc took a step closer, his hand cupping Marco’s face as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate like before, but slow, careful, as if Marc was savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of Marco’s lips against his. Marco’s eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed back, the tension in his body slowly easing as he let himself be pulled into the warmth of Marc’s embrace.

They moved together, Marco’s hands finding their way to Marc’s shoulders, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly become uncertain. The kiss deepened, but this time there was no urgency, no need to prove anything — just a quiet, shared understanding that whatever came next, they would face it together.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and a little unsteady, Marc rested his forehead against Marco’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “Stay with me tonight,” Marc whispered, his voice low, laced with a vulnerability that Marco hadn’t heard from him before.

Marco nodded, unable to find his voice, but the answer was clear in the way he tightened his hold on Marc.

Marc’s eyes softened at Marco’s silent agreement, and for a moment, all the tension between them seemed to dissipate. He let out a shaky breath, pressing a gentle kiss to Marco’s temple before pulling back slightly to look at him, really look at him. The uncertainty in Marco’s eyes was still there, but there was also something else — something that gave Marc hope.

Slowly, Marc led Marco to the bed, their hands still entwined. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamps casting a warm, intimate light over the space. Marc sat down first, pulling Marco down beside him. They sat there, side by side, their shoulders touching, both of them acutely aware of how close they were, yet neither making a move to close the remaining distance.

Marc turned his head slightly, his eyes searching Marco's face, lingering on the curve of his lips. There was a quiet tension between them, an unspoken understanding that had been building for so long. Marc's breath hitched as he lifted a hand to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from Marco's face, his fingers lingering on Marco's cheek, the touch light, almost hesitant.

Marco leaned into the touch, his eyes half-lidded as he let out a shaky breath. The air between them felt charged, electric, and Marc could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the intensity of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He knew what he wanted — what they both wanted — but still, he hesitated, as if waiting for Marco to make the first move.

Marco, feeling the weight of Marc's gaze, finally turned to face him fully, his lips parting slightly as he met Marc's eyes. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the world around them fading away until it was just the two of them, alone in the quiet of the room.

Then, almost as if drawn together by an invisible force, Marc leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips brushed against Marco's in a tentative, searching kiss. Marco responded immediately, a soft sound escaping his throat as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

The world seemed to slow down as their mouths moved together, lips and tongues exploring each other with a mix of tenderness and hunger. Marc's hand slid to the back of Marco's neck, pulling him closer, while Marco's hands found their way to Marc's chest, clutching at his shirt as if to ground himself in the moment.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as if they were both trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments they had held back. Marc's hand tangled in Marco's hair, tilting his head back to gain better access as he kissed him deeper, their breaths mingling, hearts racing.

Marco wants to bite him.

He doesn’t — he feigns smugness instead, a confidence he doesn’t have right now as their lips part, his body feels like it’s about to crumble under Marc's touch. He grabs the headboard behind Marc with both hands, one arm on each side of Marc's head — it’s either this, or his hands will start wandering, touching and grabbing and exploring because they have seen each other naked, but Marco wants everything. He wants to swallow Marc in the physical and metaphorical sense, he wants Marc to be his and also a part of him at the same time, he wants Marc in his mouth and down his throat and around his neck.

Marc lifts a hand and grazes the fingertips on Marco’s cheekbone to move some tendrils of hair that have escaped his fluro yellow claw clip, of course it's the vr46 colour, which he then tucks behind Marco’s ear. Marc looks at him like he knows that Marco would splay himself open for him - does he know? Marco wants to tell him, but he fears he’ll run - and Marco feels that gaze right in the middle of his sternum.

“I know I might fail,” Marc rests his hand on Marco's cheek now and Marco's grin freezes on his face, “But do I have permission to try?”

Fuck.

Marco doesn’t even know why Marc is asking— well, he does know, and it’s because Marc is being way too fucking nice, and will keep asking for consent until his throat is dry, and god if that isn’t so fucking sexy of him. Marco swallows and nods frantically, suddenly unable to make a sound — but he knows what Marc is going to want from him, so he takes a deep breath to ready himself for the demand.

“Words, lindo.”

Marco only has one word, and that’s “fuck” yelled out loudly for an hour straight ideally — but he’s ready, so he clears his throat to answer.

“Yes, please.”

Marc smiles contentedly. “Good boy. Come here?” He says in a low tone, sliding his fingers along Marco's cheek and then under Marco's ears until he can gently hook them behind Marco's neck to pull him into a kiss.

And what a kiss, Marco thinks when he leans down for it, bracing himself by wrapping his arms around Marc's shoulders.

Marc always kisses him like he’s delicate, like he’s the most succulent of meals, like he wants all of him and at the same time wants to make sure he’s kept safe. One hand on Marco's cheek and the other on his thigh, Marc holds him through the kiss as if Marco was even thinking of going anywhere.

Marc's kisses almost make Marco think Marc would want to keep him.

Marco pushes the thought away by deepening the kiss and tightening the hold of his arms around Marc's shoulders, using them to push himself against Marc's chest and also give Marc's crotch a little rub with his own. It can’t hurt, can it?, to make Marc feel how much Marco wants him at all times, including right now when all he had to do was have Marco sit in his lap and Marco is desperately hard in his sweatpants.

Marc's fingers dig into Marco's skin in all the spots Marc is touching him — Marco feels them on his jaw and right behind his knee. He drinks the little “mmhh” that Marc releases in the middle of the kiss like it’s ambrosia, he can almost physically feel it fill up his mouth and slide down his throat, leaving fire in its wake. And Marco would burn, he would do it gladly if only Marc asked him to — but Marc doesn’t ask. He'd never dare to beg for anything. Never again. Instead, he pulls back from the kiss just a little, leaving Marco's lips open and wanting.

“You need to learn how to slow down, darling.” Marc whispers, lifting a hand to rub his whole palm on Marco's forehead to brush more strands of hair back. He’s smirking, still, and Marco can’t help but huff out a little laugh in response. He’s been caught red-handed, but this is not news for either of them: they’ve known each other long enough for it not to be a big revelation — he’s the one who wants things and wants them right now, Marc is the patient soul who reins him in. Except, this whole dynamic has gained a whole new layer now that one of the things Marco is allowing himself to want is Marc himself. It has made Marco more demanding, and Marc more firm.

And Marco loves it.

“You know me, amore. I haven’t slowed down one day in my entire life.” Marco grins, cupping Marc's jaw with one hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb on Marc's lips. Marc purses them to kiss Marco's finger, and Marco's eyelids and chest and stomach flutter.

“I know.” Marc nods, resting both hands on Marco's sides. He rubs them up and down until Marco's team shirt lifts up enough for him to slide under it and press his fingers into the softness just above his hips. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way. But I wonder—” Marc inhales sharply, furrowing his brows in the exaggerated expression of someone who is concocting the most articulate thought (he’s an absolute loser, Marco adores him), “Is there any way I could perhaps help you do that? Pause, for a moment?”

It’s a twinkle in Marc's eyes, and Marco catches it immediately. His whole body lights up.

“Maybe.” He arches an eyebrow, “You could try. You’re a very resourceful person.”

“Well. I do have something in mind.” Marc sits up, wrapping his arms around Marco's waist and straightening his back up until their faces are incredibly close again. “But I’m going to need you to be a very good boy for me. And some lube.”

It’s a good thing that Marco is being securely held in Marc's lap, because the bout of dizziness he feels all at once almost sends him flying straight to the floor. Fuck, is he actually insane? Marc knows by now the effect he has on him — and the bastard knows how to use it to his advantage too, because why would he call him a ‘good boy’ from that distance, lips that almost touch, breaths that almost combine?

“Gesù. Yes.” Marco breathes out, starting to reluctantly slide a leg off of Marc lap to turn around. “It’s just—”

“Now, now.” Marc grabs him promptly by his hips and Marco stops immediately, eyes fixed on him and his shit-eating grin that Marco wants to bite, “What did I just tell you? You need to settle down.” Marc tells him, and his tone is gentle but doesn’t give Marco any room for complaining. Not that Marco would want to, anyway — he feels his bones melt at the vigorous hold on his sides and at the rumble in Marc's voice, but he still manages to slide back into place and sit where Marco wants him.

“Where is it?” Marc asks him, running his hands over the small of Marco’s back purely because he wants to touch him. Marc has never been the tactile one between them, but Marco's love language is touch — which basically means that he has subjected Marc to his hugs, touches, caresses, to his fidgeting with various edges of various pieces of Marc's clothing until the whole thing rubbed off on Marc, and now every time he runs his hands over Marco's body, his skin goes up in flames.

“There’s a small bottle in the smallest pouch of my zaino.” Marco’s voice isn’t even stable right now — it trembles just as his body is doing — but he knows that Marc wants him to be present, and he doesn’t want to let him down.

Luckily his whole being is shaken back into existence the moment Marc's hand on the small of his back slides around his waist so that Marc's arm can hug him, holding Marco against his toned chest with one firm movement; Marco feels Marc's torso lean forward and instinctively wraps his arms around Marc's shoulders to avoid falling backwards, a surprised yelp escaping his lips.

“Marc, cristo—” Marco chuckles as he hugs him, pressing his cheek against Marc's as the man leans over and stretches an arm out to reach the bag.

They’re both laughing now, and Marc's laughter so close to Marco's ears makes Marco's insides feel like they will never be solid again. How could he live without this?

“See? It worked, and you didn’t have to move a muscle.” Marc chirps happily and kisses Marco right under his ear — then on his jaw, on his cheekbone, on the corner of his lips while he sits back again and takes Marco with him. Marco's eyelids flutter closed and he holds Marc's face again, a soft breath breaking against Marc'z lips a few moments before Marc kisses him once more.

It really feels like Marc kisses him because he likes to do it, and Marco lets himself believe it; one hand still splayed open on Marco's back, Marc holds him as he savours Marco, sucking on his bottom lip, taking up all the space that Marco has in his mouth — Marco gives it up gladly — until he breaks the kiss with one of his little moans that make Marco's ears tingle.

“You took my fingers so well last time,” Marc whispers right against Marco's lips, and wow, shit, he’s going straight for it, okay, “Do you want to show me how good you are with my cock?”

At this point, the hold Marco has on Marc's face is more of an anchoring point than something borne of affection, because he feels like he’s going to tumble right off Marc's lap even though he’s securely sitting on it. Who taught him to speak like that?!

“Cazzo, mate—” Marco drops his head forward, eyes closed as if it’s enough to soften the blow of the fucking punch in the chest he just received, “God, yes. I want nothing more. Please.” He remembers, in the haze of the moment, what Marc had told him to do the last time they had found themselves in this situation — he likes it when Marco asks nicely, and Marco is hellbent on not letting him down.

And sure enough, Marc smiles — Marco would fight a thousand wars if it meant he could always see him like this — and he pops the lube open with the flick of a thumb. They don’t even look at the bottle — they only have eyes for each other, with Marc's hand still in the small of Marco's back and Marco's hands delicately resting on the line of Marc's jaw. They stare at each other in what frankly looks like a silent battle for who can hold the most affection for the other in their gaze. Marco hopes it’s a tie. Convinces himself it is.

He shifts his hips back a bit and reaches for the band of Marc's jeans, but Marc tuts, arching his eyebrows. “Ah-ha. Don’t move.” He says, slow and low — and they’re so close that the words roar in Marco's chest. He puts his hand back on Marco's upper arm, finger grazing lightly over the scars litering his skin as he forced himself to keep as still as possible. It’s quite the undertaking for him, as someone who wants to touch, move, get things going. He has no patience and that is especially true when what he wants is right in front of him, but Marc has made it very clear what the rules are, so Marco waits. The last thing he wants is to be kicked aside again.

He waits, but he watches — he watches as Marc wriggles his hips enough to be able to slide his bottoms down. Not all the way, because of course he wouldn’t want Marco to move an inch — but then he takes his cock out, which is already half-hard just by making out with Marco, and he can’t help but feel a tinge of pride at the sight.

“You are so beautiful.” It comes out of Marco before he can even stop it, and his breath hitches a bit at the end of the sentence, but now it’s too late to take it back anyway. They’ve always had words of praise for each other, regardless of the context in which they were said — and yet these words now taste like a brand new thing. Like something that isn’t blooming yet but it’s desperately asking to, something that feels tentative and shy and that maybe Marco should’ve kept for himself, on second thought.

He searches for Marc's gaze in a subtle panic — he needs to know immediately if he has ruined everything, if he has given away too much, if Marc hates him—

He finds Marc's hazel eyes staring straight back at him, and for a moment Marco could swear something flashes in them, just as Marc's eyelids flutter for an instant. His lips part ever so slightly, almost as if Marc would like to say something but he's stopping himself at the last second. his stomach drops a bit, because what is Marc thinking right now? Perhaps that he's not beautiful? That he doesn't deserve the compliment? And he doesn't know how to fix it, he doesn't know how to tell him without breaking the atmosphere of the moment, so Marco holds his face gently, softly, fingertips subtly rubbing the skin under them. You are, you are, you are, one small rub, and then another, then another, you are, you are, you are.

Marc takes a deep breath, slowly, and Marco feels the hand on his back give him a very quick caress. “Nothing, compared to you, tesoro.”

No, no, no, Marco pulls him into a kiss, his thumbs rubbing Marc's cheekbones, you are, you are, you are, and he vaguely registers Marc drizzling the lube on his cock and his own fingers as they kiss, you are beautiful, you are so beautiful, you are the most beautiful, and now one of Marc's hands is wrapping around his waist and ending up on his back and it’s sliding, lower and lower and lower, you are the most gorgeous creature I have ever laid eyes on, and it slips inside Marco's pants and surpasses his boxers, and Marco is still kissing him, there’s no one more beautiful than you, and then the first finger breaches him, and the whimper he lets out into Marc's mouth sounds a lot like his name.

“Si, amor?” Marc murmurs and oh, maybe Marco did say his name.

“I— I want— I need you, Marc, please—”

In a different universe - one where the mere act of looking at Marc doesn’t make Marco want to drop to his knees — Marco would be telling himself to get it together. That the state he’s in after a short makeout session and one mere finger is way too much, that he needs to reel it in — but in this universe, the one where Marc is smiling at him as he adds a second finger, Marco is not holding back.

“You need to be patient, Marco.” Marc's words follow Marco's moan almost in one unified sound — they’re an extension of Marco's noises, Marc fits them in between one whimper and the other like they belong there — and they do, like puzzle pieces perfectly coming together.

Patience, patience — by the time Marc has added a third finger Marco is a writhing, whimpering mess, desperately seeking some sort of relief by attempting to push his hips against Marc's fingers. He can’t, though, because Marc told him not to, he told him to stand still and be patient, and Marco feels like his head is about to explode. He knows why Marc is doing that — he wants Marco to learn to take his time, to not rush things, to wait, but all Marco wants is this beautiful man to be inside him and he is not sure if he’s learning any lessons here.

“Right,” Marc breathes out just as his fingers still, earning a disapproving moan from Marco, “You’re being so very good for me”, Marco squirms ever so slightly as the fingers slide out with ease, “But last time I forgot to ask you something very important and the mistake has been eating at me.”

Marco's brain is way too liquified to even focus properly on Marc's words, but what Marco knows is that there is nothing he would change about their first time. He has been replaying that night over and over in his head, and if Marc asked him what he would change, he wouldn't have an answer.

“What—” Marco swallows, trying to get his words out, “What is it? You were perfect.”

Marc shakes his head. “No, Marco, and I'm sorry. I'm— still learning.”

Marco catches a hint of hesitation in Marc's voice. He doesn't understand why, but if Marc doesn't tell him immediately what the issue is, he's going to go insane.

“I didn't ask you what your safeword is,” Marc sighs, rubbing Marco's side with his other hand. “And I'm so sorry. I should have.”

Leave it to Marc Marquez to apologise for not properly taking care of him. Leave it to Marc Marquez to realize he was far too similar to Valentino. To realise he'd rather die than continue to hurt Marco how Vale had hurt him.

God, Marco could start crying.

“Amore, it's fine, I promise,” Marco tries to reassure him, cupping his jaw with both hands to direct Marc's gaze into his own — and oh, Marc's eyebrows are knotted in the middle, and he's concerned, so very concerned. “I know you wouldn't hurt me—”

“Marco, please, don't brush it off.” Marc's hand on Marco's hips grabs him firmly enough to get Marco's attention, “It's always important to know. I— people— should be asking you, and you should make it known.”

It doesn't feel like Marc is telling him off — rather, this sounds a lot like something he's been reprimanding himself about for days.

“I— I want— I need you to be safe, Marco, please—”

Marco's hands almost scramble to grab Marc's face to pull him in until their foreheads touch.

“I am, I promise, I am.” Marco tells him gently, rubbing circles into Marc's skin with his thumbs.

Marc speaks as if Marco would be able to sleep with anyone else now — as if he could desire someone else the way he desires Marc, viscerally, primordially— and Marco knows it's true that Marc would never hurt him — not physically — but his heart still swells up at the thought that Marc is being so attentive towards him.

Their faces are still close when Marco speaks again.

“Lavender.”

Marc looks up at him. “Mh?”

Marco smiles. “Lavender. My safeword.”

Marc's shoulders relax all at once, his face painted with relief.

“I’m sorry,” He says, low and soft, “I’m trying.”

Marco frowns. Trying what? Marc doesn’t have to try, not with him at least. No one knows Marco more than Marc does, embarrassingly enough, and there is nothing he could do wrong when it comes to dealing with him in Marco's eyes. He could do no wrong. His pedestal was far too high for him to be making lowly mistakes.

But the words are cut off right from Marco's throat when Marc wraps a hand around his own cock, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he slowly strokes it a couple times. It is a vision to behold — this perfect man with this perfect face and these perfect hands and this perfect cock — and Marco's jaw falls open, quite literally. He fears he’s going to start salivating in a moment, and he’s thankful for Marc manoeuvring him to lift himself up just a little while he pulls the elastic of Marco's pants and boxers low enough to leave his ass uncovered.

“Just like that… good boy.” Marc's voice guides Marco as he sits back down, the praise making him feel dizzy — as if the feeling of Marc's cock sliding inside wasn't exhilarating enough.

It fills Marco up, inch by inch, and he feels like he's not taking it fast enough — he wants Marc inside him, and he says it with a whimpering moan as he tries to take him to the hilt. But Marc isn't only dictating Marco's movements with his voice, no — his firm grip on Marco's hip is deciding the speed at which Marco is going, and it's too much and it's not enough.

“Marc—” Marco moans in frustration, receiving a gentle shush and a hand stroking his hair in response.

“It's okay, mi amor. Patience. There's no rush. You're being so good for me.”

Marc's praise stays with him until Marco has taken him to the full length, until he's sitting back down in Marc's lap with a groan and he's full, and Marc is all around him and inside him and outside of him, and he's safe.

“Well done, good boy.” Marc strokes Marco's sides gently with both hands, in stark contrast with Marco's fingers gripping Marc's shoulders for dear life.

He wants to move — he wants to make Marc feel good, to show him what a good boy he is for him — and he tries it, he pushes himself up just slightly, even though it doesn't last long. Marc's hands are promptly back on his hips, keeping him down and still.

“It's alright, darling. Just sit still for a minute. You feel so good around me.” Marc says softly as he's smiling at him, and jesus fuck, does he want him dead? Not only is he talking to him like that, but now he’s stopping him from moving, from allowing Marco to give him what he wants, and Marco whimpers again. He likes Marc so fucking much, and the mere idea that Marc might like him back enough to at least want to do this with him makes him want to scream — fucking god, why is Marc Marquez so hard to understand.

“Marc, I—” Marco wants to say it, he wants to ask him why and when and why again. Why does Marc take care of him like this, why does he love him and cherish him and touch him in a way no one has ever touched him before, and when will Marc tell him that this is all just for fun, just so they can fool around for a while, and why.

And what's more frustrating out of this whole fucking situation is that Marco is still hellbent on giving Marc all that he can and all that he has, he wants to see Marc lost in the throes of pleasure because of him and his body, he wants Marc to look at him the way he looked at him before his crash — the lump that forms inside Marco's throat is heavy and painful and Marco lets out a choked noise.

“You'll be okay, amor. I promise. Sit still, I'll take care of you.” Marc's words slide across Marco's skin just like Marc's hands are doing, touching and caressing and caring, “Please, let me fix this. I'll make it up to you. I'll never hurt you again, tesoro.”

Deep down, Marco knows that Marc is right — that things are not as dramatic as he’s making them out to be, that they're both adults who aren't even commited to eachother how Marco so deeply wishes they were — but in reality, Marco's hands are itching and his brain is buzzing.

And if it’s because of the thought of that night or because of Marc, Marco doesn’t want to investigate this further either; all he knows is that he’s trying really hard to be good for Marc, to stay still like he’s asking him — and he doesn’t even realise that his hands have slid from Marc's shoulders to his chest and are now holding Marc's shirt in two tight fists. Marco wants Marc to kiss him, he wants Marc to fuck him into the cheap hotel bed, he wants Marc to tell him he loves him— oh fuck, he loves Marc, doesn’t he? Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

The sob leaves his throat before Marco can even notice, and when he does, his hand flies to his mouth to try and stop himself from releasing any more. His eyes are warm and his vision is getting blurry, and— shit, this is a terrible time to start crying. What would Marc think? He is equipped to carry the weight of Marco's emotions - though he wasn't the best as sticking around - but this is a completely different situation they find themselves in.

He’s sitting on Marc's cock, crying over the fact that he's not so different from Eos, the goddess of the dawn. He feels powerless in this love he has for Marc, much like Eos's unrequited feelings for Ares. No matter how hard Eos tries, Ares will always return to Aphrodite. Just as Marc will always go back to Gemma.

“Marco, oh, amor—” Marc's soothing voice reaches him very quickly and so do Marc's hands, cupping his face and drying a tear with the pad of a thumb. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

Marco knows that he could use the safeword at any point. They have never been in this predicament before, but just by knowing the type of person Marc is, Marco knows he can trust him fully to respect their agreement. He knows that, and for some reason the thought makes him feel much better about his decision.

He shakes his head, uncovering his mouth. “No,” he says, voice quivering, “No, I’m okay. I’m just very overwhelmed.”

Marc strokes rebel strands of hair away from Marco's face with so much care and softness that Marco could genuinely sob about it for a day or two; he knows Marc is trying to calm him down though, and he wants to stop crying before his brain starts telling him he’s ruining everything, so he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Good job.” Marc whispers, and it takes Marco all his willpower not to whimper in the midst of his own tears, which would be absolutely ridiculous.

“You are doing so well.” The Spanish man continues. Marco decides to keep his eyes closed for a while longer, to focus on Marc's voice and hands stroking his face. “I know it’s hard for you to calm down. But it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe. No need to be scared right now. I just want to feel you around me for a little while longer. You feel so good. I wish you could stay here forever.”

Marc doesn’t know, but Marco would. Marco would stay there, in his lap, in his hands, for the rest of time if necessary.

He does his best, anyway: he breathes in and out slowly, and soon it feels like Marc is breathing in sync with him — maybe to regulate Marco's breaths, maybe because they just do that, but it helps a lot, and soon Marco calms down fully. It’s like magic.

The sensation of Marc filling him up is still very much there. Marco comes down to Earth with another whimper, his back arching when a little giggle from Marc makes both shake slightly.

“There you are.” Marc coos. Marco finally opens his eyes, his vision still a little blurry, but he’s blushing like a schoolgirl now, because Marc is smiling at him with that smile Marco keeps so close to his heart — the slightly crooked one, with his eyebrows gently bending upwards in the middle like he’s constantly looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Marco wants to be that, for him.

“Good boy. See? You did it.”

Marco feels his brain snap into place.

He wraps his arms around Marc's shoulders and pulls him in, slowly, almost lazily, their bodies impossibly closer now and then kisses him. He realises only halfway through opening his lips up for Marc that he didn’t ask for permission, he didn’t say please — but Marc's hands immediately run up his torso, from Marco's hips to his shoulder blades and take Marco's shirt with them; the fabric bunches up in Marc's fists and leaves the lower part of Marco's torso bare.

Without breaking the kiss, Marc keeps Marco's shirt up with one hand, while the other one slides lower and lower until it reaches Marco's entrance, fingertips running over his outstretched rim, right in the spot where their bodies are, statically and frustratingly so, joined together. Marco moans into the kiss, biting down on Marc's lower lip.

“Mh,” Marc smiles, pulling back just a bit, “You really feel so good, you know?” He continues, using his fingers to push onto the underside of his cock so that it sinks even further inside, eliciting a begging moan from Marco.

“You can ask me, now.” Marc smirks.

Marco needs to take a deep breath before speaking. “Ask what?”

“Ask me to fuck you, Marco.”

And it comes out of Marco like a landslide, like something Marco can’t run away from: he pushes his knees into the mattress at Marc's sides, pressing even further against him with a long, drawn out moan as he arches his back, ready to start moving the moment Marc allows him to.

“Amore, please— please, fuck me.”

He thinks Marc is going to grab his hips, to finally allow him to start bouncing up and down like his body is craving to do — instead, Marco feels Marc's arms lock around his waist and, in a moment, he finds himself being lifted up and laid on his back on the bed quicker than his brain can even begin to process.

“Good boy.” Marc growls into Marco's mouth before reclaiming it with the hunger of a man starved; Marco's mouth and body and soul are all for him — they open up for Marc like a blossoming flower, letting the man in as much as Marco is able to handle.

Which — turns out — is more than Marco imagined, because Marc is soon thrusting into him, half-kneeling on the bed, one foot planted on the ground. Marco barely has time to gasp, kick his pants all the way off to wrap his legs around Marc's waist and arms around his shoulders, and then his brain fully disconnects once more; Marc pounds into him like he’s trying to mark him — Marco likes to think that Marc is making him his own, and even if Marc's thrusts mean something else to his friend, to Marco they’re saying mine, yours, mine, yours, mine.

“Oh, tesoro, you feel so good—” Marc pants in Marco's ear and Marco closes his eyes; maybe, if he doesn’t look, he can pretend that Marc is saying this as he lazily wraps his arms around his waist on a warm Sunday morning in their bed in the house they share, pressing himself against Marco's back and leaving a kiss behind the shell of his ear, both of them smelling of sex and fresh sheets, right before Marc gets up to cook breakfast.

And then Marc's cock hits that spot inside Marco that makes him let out a moan that is much louder than the others and arch his back, and Marco really doesn't know if the ringing he hears is from Marc's phone or from his own ears — but it doesn't matter. He tightens the grip of his legs around Marc's hips to get him to go deeper, deeper, deeper, and Marc does — he plants his knee into the duvet and his foot solidly on the floor and shifts his hips forwards just enough to pound into Marco with a relentlessness that makes Marco feel dizzy.

Marc's cheek is still pressed against Marco's when he cups his jaw on the opposite side with a hand; Marco turns his head into the touch, eyes closed, until Marc's thumb grazes his bottom lip. He opens his eyes, then, and without hesitation, he tilts his head forward to take the finger in his mouth, wrapping his lips softly around it. He feels Marc's thrusts stutter and has to do his best not to smirk around Marc's digit, especially because Marc is now lifting his head up to look at the pretty picture in front of him and Marco is not going to miss the opportunity to employ his best doe eyes if he can.

He looks up at Marc, thumb in his mouth, and gives the pad a quick lick before sucking on it. Marc is looking at him like he has never seen anything so beautiful — at least, that’s what Marco makes himself think in order to stay sane — with his lips parted in surprise and a little gasp that escapes them when his eyes land on his finger being enveloped by Marco's supple lips.

“Fuck,” Marc mutters, pushing the thumb deeper — Marco feels it slide across his tongue and thinks about Marc's cock doing the same — “You are so beautiful, amor. I’m so - ah - I’m so lucky I get to have you like this—”

Marc isn’t the lucky one, Marco thinks. Looking up at him, brunette locks falling over his forehead and bouncing to the rhythm of his thrust, mouth agape in the throes of pleasure — Marco wants to tell him. He wants to tell him that he’s pretty sure he loves him, and that he’s sorry if this ruins everything between them, and that it’s fine if Marco doesn’t love him back — it’s not fine, but what else is he going to do? Lose him? Again?

He says nothing, though. He hums around Marc's thumb as his lips hit the base of it and he keeps sucking and licking just as he feels Marc's thrust get faster and more frantic. Marc presses the other four fingers against Marco's jaw and now he’s practically holding his head, and Marco's eyes roll to the back of his head at the thought of Marc handling him that way. He slides one hand away from Marc's side to try and reach his own neglected cock, but Marc is faster, always. He pushes Marco away with his free hand and wraps his own fingers around Marco's erection instead.

“No. Mine.” Marc growls, and Marco would cry again if he wasn’t too busy trying not to come on the spot.

Marco is literally everywhere, he’s inside Marco and around his cock and in his mouth and on top of him and Marco sucks on his finger like it’s the source of the oxygen he needs to live; Marc looks mesmerised and Marco believes him, he believes that Marc loves him back within the confines of the orgasm that is building up inside both of them — that it’s real for a moment, for a brief, intense moment where their bellies tighten and the pressure builds up and their moans almost become one, and Marc is pounding and pounding and pounding and saying Marco's name over and over again — and then Marc comes, and then they both come, and Marc is filling him up and Marco is spilling all over his stomach and Marc's fist, and it’s bliss.

Marco loves him, in the space of their panting breaths. Marco loves him, with their cheeks pressed together once Marc flops forward for a moment. Marco loves him, with his fingers carding through the waves of his hair.

And he imagines that Marc loves him too, with his thumb slipping out of Marco's mouth but his hand still firmly pressed against his face. He imagines that Marc loves him too, with the little sigh of relief when Marco mindlessly and softly scratches his back with his nails, delicate as he can be. He imagines that Marc loves him too, in the little giggle he releases before kissing his neck.

“Did your phone ring?” Marco asks lazily, as if they’ve just woken up from a good night’s sleep.

“Mh,” Marc hums, face still hidden against Marco's neck.

“Want me to leave you alone while you call them back?” Marco asks, Marc only throws but a glance at his phone on the bedside table next to them. He thinks about the idea of leaving, and he feels like things matter a little less.

It can wait.

“No,” He mumbles, turning his head again and wrapping Marc into a hug, closing his eyes so that he can smell him. “I'll stay.”

And he did, for that night. Stayed in bed with Marco, their limbs entertwined the whole night before they had to wake up and return to the paddock. Before Marc had to return Gemma's calls.

[toni-peperoni]

1.001 words of pure crack, treated not nearly as seriously as I intended, prompted by @yeastinfectionvale with 'Uccio and Checo being twins, but make it dramatic'. Here it goes:

He couldn't quite remember who had suggested to do that 23 and me test, but the entire academy came together and Vale was doing it too. So Uccio couldn't just opt out. He wanted to be cool after all. And really, what spoke against it. Being from such a little place like Tavullia meant that everyone knew everyone and the only thing that Uccio really hoped to find out was the he and Vale might be related at least in someway?

One after the other, they opened their results and all seemed normal and right, they even got the Brasilian part of Franky right, but then when they got to his results, something was weird. It said he was half Mexican. Mexican? How could that be with how much he despised the Spanish language and anything associated with it.

But when it was right with Franky and Brasil, that had to mean it was right with him and Mexico too right? Everyone was confused and Uccio wanted to call his mother. Naturally everyone else wanted to hear the explanation too, so he was forced to stay and call his mother on speaker.

"Hello Alessio, my baby, what is up? Why are you calling me so late?", his mother asked him.

Bez and Cele were giggling he was still called 'my baby' by his mother. That got them a death glare.

"We all took DNA tests and it turned out I'm half Mexican. Any comment on that", he asked with spite in this voice, that usually only came out when he defended his family, Vale, against the great evil, Marc.

"Oh what, that must be a mistake. Neither I nor your father are Mexican!", his mother tried to play it down. But Uccio saw right through her, like he always saw the malicious intent of people.

"But is my father even my father?", Uccio shot back. And his mother's defence crumbled.

She was sobbing, tears rolling. Her son had never been supposed to find out. Nobody was supposed to know what happened when that hot shot from Mexico had suddenly showed up one day and like a whirlwind threw her world upside down.

"I never wanted you to find out. Of course your father is your father, he raised you, but your biological dad is someone else. His name is Antonio. He was charming, he was sweet and just everything I missed in your father. I am so sorry I never told you, but it was for the better. I didn't want to start a whole identity crisis for you. You know, because Salucci is not your biological father's last name. My one motto has always been: The main thing is that Alessio is well"

He swallowed hard. "Salucci isn't my right last name. I'm not actually Uccio. But who am I? What is my last name supposed to be?"

"It's Perez", his mother sobbed out.

"That's so Spanish. That's so typical in the Spanish language it's even in the Spanish Duolingo course as a standard example name", Pecco threw in from the side, not being helpful or considering of the crisis he was currently going through.

"Wait Antonio Perez as in the father of Checo Perez?", Valentino was the first to make the connection.

"That's exactly him. I can't watch Formula 1 without thinking about him. And your twin brother."

"My twin? I have a twin?", Uccio - was he even Uccio anymore, or was he now Rezo and needed to dye is hair blue because of an identity crisis - asked.

"His name is Sergio. He was so weak as a baby, he passed as a lot younger than he actually is. It's a miracle he actually made it. And look at him now, sometimes winning races in F1 of Max isn't able. Or Carlos", she wept.

"Checo Perez is my twin? But isn't he ten years younger than me give or take?", the half Mexican asked.

"Like I said, he was very week as a baby, it was easy to pass him as younger."

"So what you are saying is that not Fernando, but Checo is the oldest driver on the grid?", Valentino double checked.

"He is. My sweet little angel. I haven't seen him in so long."

Uccio ended the call with his mother after that. He always thought he was her only sweet angel, but now that.

"I need to get in contact with him. How, how can I do that?"

"We could get in contact with Marc, he was good ties to the RedBull F1 team."

"No, not Marquez. I have a reputation to loose here, not you. I can't ask him."

"Well alternatively, we could try Lewis. See if Checo is in the WhatsApp group with all drivers."

"That, let's do that."

Valentino and Uccio went somewhere more private to call Lewis Hamilton and not even 10 minutes later, they had the phone number of the mexican and apparently also half-italian driver.

It took a few rings until Checo picked up, confused as to who was calling him.

"Hi, this is Alessio. The best friend of Valentino Rossi. We got your number from Hamilton. I'm calling because. Because I just found out I'm your brother. Your twin brother."

"My. My what?"

"I'm your twin. We were separated shortly after birth. Your father took you back to Mexico, away from my mother and away from me. I can't believe I finally found out."

"But what does that mean? How old does that make me? I have to be 40-something."

"Yeah, you are. I am so happy to have finally found you. I always felt like a part of me was missing. Like my family wasn't complete. But now you are there and it all makes sense."

"I know what you mean. How could they have never told us? We could have met so much sooner!"

"It doesn't matter", Uccio said, voice strong, though the emotion in it was clear. "Because we have found eachother now, brother."

_________________

I formally want to apologize to anyone. Especially to anyone who understood the accidental Rezo reference (for context, there is a very, very well known German YouTuber, with blue hair, which is basically his trademark), this was not done on purpose, I typed out Rezo, before realising what I had actually just typed.

Let me end this with another quote two quotes with great German popculture relevance:

1. Hauptsache Alessio geht es gut (The main thing is that Alessio is well) said by a famous German rapper over the child of a very bad German musician.

2. Weil mein Ruf kaputt geht, ned deina! (I have a reputation to loose here, not you!) Quote fro the father of said Alessio, the very bad German musician Piedro Lombardi.

And I think that sums up this entire experience quite well. Because whatever repution I had, I have probably now lost. Thanks for indulging in my crack

[formulapookie]

20 (a kiss on a scar) for MarcMarc

also unrelated, but I read through some of your work and I love it!!

20. a kiss on a scar

Bez is waken from his sleep by a groan coming from the man beside him.

Marc has not been feeling well lately, but as the stubborn idiot his boyfriend is he didn't want Bez to know what bothered him.

Now it's clear he is truly in pain, he's holding his arm tight and trying to regulate his breath.

"Marc? What's going on?" "Nothing nothing go back to sleep" "No it's not nothing Marc, you're hurting, tell me what's going on"

Marc is not one easy to read Bez has found out, not even when he trusts people he lets them see him completely, the only one who may be past all his walls it's Alex, and Bez is still not sure even his brother knows the real Marc.

But the obviousness of his pain it's hard to bypass, especially for someone like Bez who tends to take other's pain and suffering turning them into his owns just to let them free of those weights.

"Marc. Please I want to help you and I need you to tell me how, otherwise I can't and I - I just can't let you suffer like this ok?"

Marc looks like he does some thinking. Tries to be sure he can let down some of his defences in front of Bez.

"My arm. It - I didn't take my painkillers today, it hurts a lot" "Oh God why didn't you take them? Ugh Marc where are they? I'm gonna grab them for you"

Marc hisses again, it's one of those days when the arm just doesn't let him breathe without hurting.

"They uh I think they're in my bag in the blue thing in there" "These?"

Marc lifts up his head to look.

"Yeah I can take them myself Marco don't" "No. you are staying in bed, I'm gonna grab a water bottle and bring it to you, don't you dare move" "But-" "Marc."

Bez sounds resolute, firm in a way it's unusual in their relationship.

Marc knows it's done to help him, to protect him, but he feels like he has to be the one protecting the boy, not the other way around.

He's not quick enough tho, as Bez goes in the kitchen and takes some water, heading back in their room immediately after.

"Here, take - how many did you miss?" "I don't know" "Marc, please" "I think two, this morning and this evening" "Ok here's two, take them" "Marco I can survive without them" "I don't give a fuck, I'm not letting you suffer like this, come on take them"

Marc looks at his boyfriend, worry in his eyes, he feels like a small animal who's been wounded and who's been rescued by him.

He's never - with Vale it was different, there wasn't this tenderness that he and Marco share.

He doesn't know how to navigate it.

"I don't want them" "Marc if you don't take them I'm gonna make you take them with force I don't care, you HAVE to take these, they make your arm feel better no?" "Yeah but... I know people who could manage without I don't want to be weaker than them"

Marco is speechless, because this is just out of this world.

"Marc. Marc look at me. You came back from a surgery and a crash that would've ended anyone's career, but not yours. You fought through it, and won, and now you're winning again! The thing I hate the most about your injury is the fact I wasn't there back then to help you recover from it"

Marc is on the verge of tears, the love Marco has in his eyes, he only experienced it coming from himself towards the others, never the other way around.

"Marc please" "Ok. Just because you ask me"

Bez helps him take the pills, then gets back in bed with him, and hugs him tight.

"You aren't weak Marc. You're the opposite of it. Never say that again ok? Promise me" "Marco I" "Promise. Please. Promise me you'll never say you're weak again"

Marco looks like a kid in need of reassurance everything's gonna be ok, and Marc doesn't have it in his heart to say no.

"Ok. Ok I promise"

Bez smiles, one of his contagious smiles that make Marc curl his lips too.

He moves slightly, placing a soft kiss on Marc's scar, with that never ending love that can be felt through his every action.

"I kiss away your pain see?"

And he just keeps leaving more and more kisses on it, making Marc laugh, a true laugh, not one he trains himself for.

And Bez couldn't be prouder of himself, and of Marc, of course, because even something as simple as accepting help is a great step towards Marc's self esteem and awareness, and he aims at making it perfect.

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2023 Day 7- Minotaur Part 3

The Rut

Almost there, part 4 is that sweet lemoney goodness. But this is still super sweet and fluffy.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 promptlist as well as @catbatart for theirs too.

Part 3

Big Bad Lawyer

You barely managed to survive your day, and you had to skip lunch and barely take five minutes to wolf down a quick power bar in the bathroom because each client had extra issues. All of them had drop tines, or crazy intricate and complicated brow palms and top palms and bez’ for your caribou clientele. Your moose clients had gigantic main palms and brow palms where you had to use something of a curved ice scraper on them and you were sure your hands were forever going to stay greasy and oily despite wearing gloves for every client, a few of them, having to change your gloves a couple times and empty your velvet box and it was just one big blur of velvet. And so you of course, felt like you were always running late and behind and even took in an emergency appointment. 

But by the time you were done, it was just you and Macy left as Dick Rick was still waiting in his car in the row of spaces meant for the spa in the front. Especially since Macy insisted that if he didn’t have an appointment or was not going to buy anything, he had no other business in the spa and had threatened that if he would not leave, the police would be called to make him leave and that he would be black listed from the spa, should he continue to “harass” the specialists there. 

But here in the parking space, watching the spa like a hawk. Then you and Macy walked your last client to the door and locked it behind him once you got him checked out. 

“Should I call the police?” Macy asked as you both eyed Rick’s car with weary skepticism from a distance that you hoped he couldn’t see you from his vantage. 

“Well, this morning he claimed he had a job opening for me at his “new spa”. Did he actually give you or the other receptionists anything to that effect or not?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Macy confirmed before she walked back to the desk and handed over the manila envelope before you took out the clearly- printed off a cheap printer- paper that had all kinds of flashy gimmicky symbols and none of the same font and it looked more like a flier than anything before you quickly got a pen and wrote ‘no thank you, not interested.’ with a scrawl of your name before you put it back in. 

“He’s not going to take that no very well.” Macy predicted. 

“No he’s not, that’s why I’m hoping I can call in a favor to make him accept it.” You said before you pulled Bauvar’s business card out of your pocket and called him up. 

“Hello?” Bauvar asked after the second ring. 

“Hey Bauvar, it’s Bianca from The Velvet Spa, is that offer of being a bid bad lawyer still good?” You asked hopefully. 

“Of course. Do I need to head down there?” He asked. 

“At your earliest convenience, yes please.” You confirmed. 

“I’ll be there in ten.” He offered. 

“Thanks.” You thanked him gratefully. 

“Bauvar? Who’s that?” Macy asked once you hung up the phone. 

“You know that new caribou minotaur I had yesterday? Bauvar Leopold?” You prompted. 

“Oh you mean the same handsome guy who dropped you off at the door this morning who was a last minute first timer?” Macy grinned mischievously. 

“Yes. Well, he was at Caribou Coffee when Dick Rick caught up with me. He agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend to Dick Rick to keep Dick Rick at bay. And he’s a lawyer and when I tried to tell Dick Rick I had a noncompete, which, I am contemplating having him draw up, just to say I have one, but I wouldn’t have anyone else here sign one. Thankfully Bauvar picked up on that and used that to help me escape Dick Rick’s clutches.” You revealed as Macy hummed excitedly. 

“Oooh, so is he coming to have a second act to it? At least the boyfriend part too? In addition to “The Big Bad Lawyer”, which did sound hella sexy, just sayin.” Macy asked. 

“Yup. He offered that if Dick Rick kept harassing me, he’d happily step in, for the big favor of getting him in and taken care of so quickly.” You explained. 

“Nice. So I take it, you want me to play along too?” Macy asked. 

“Please?” You requested. 

“Girl I got you.” Macy reassured you. 

“Thanks.” You thanked her gratefully as you both pretended to wind things down and get ready to leave as it seemed Dick Rick then creeped his car closer and closer to the building until he was parked right behind the handicap parking spot.  

“Subtlety is not in this guy’s vocabulary is it?” You snorted derisively. 

“Nope.” She offered as you both waited on Bauvar to arrive. 

“Oh, hold the phone, god damn.” Macy crooned when Bauvar drove into the next parking space with a much nicer car, in another good looking suit and the moment he got out of the car, you and Macy smiled happily at him. 

“Hey Sweetie, you ready to go get dinner?” Bauvar asked just as Rick got out of his car and approached once you met Bauvar at the door. 

“Yup.” 

“But I thought you two were going to look at my offer together?” Rick asked skeptically. 

“Oh yes, here was his offer.” You offered the manila envelope over to Bauvar who took it out and looked it over but frowned deeply at it. 

“What- in the phony three dollar bill looking offer is this?” Bauvar immediately scoffed at it.

“It’s not phony, how dare you!” Rick began to argue before Bauvar simply reached out, lowered his head so his antlers would collide with Rick’s to get Rick to take a step back as Bauvar soon stood between you and Macy and Rick and every time Rick tried to side step him, Bauvar would advance him further and further back. 

“Oh really? Let’s prove it.” Bauvar challenged before he got his phone out and called the number on the sheet on speaker and immediately got a ‘this line has been disconnected’ message before he outright looked on the Better Business Beaurer’s list of businesses and it wasn’t even listed as a business. 

“What kind of shady charlatan shit is this? If this was a real business, the phone wouldn’t be disconnected and the address wouldn’t be to the damn coffee shop down the street! You really did just smack a bunch of shit together in a Word Document and expect it to pass as genuine offer? No. This, is literally false advertising and you can get your ass sued for this shit. The firm I work for- is a firm who sues assholes like you for trying to copycat other businesses and do things like this. Plus this is a direct conflict of interest and a direct violation of Bianca’s noncompete, which I looked over and is iron clad with not a loophole in sight. Now lets look at the very place you’re trying to copycat here, if I look this up on the BBB’s website, I’ll bet you twenty bucks we’ll find it’s the real deal.” Bauvar challenged before you and Macy looked at each other worriedly. 

“Honey, no, I’m so hungry and so tired, I just want to go pick up a pizza and go home. I already turned it down. Come on Babe.” You called after him. 

“It’ll only take a minute,” Bauvar insisted before you got back and ripped the paper from his grasp and shoved it into Rick’s chest. 

“Richard Burke, I am declining your offer of employment. I’m perfectly happy where I am and with how much I make doing it. I’m not interested in it, or you or anything else you could possibly offer me. And I swear to every god, that if you do not leave me alone, I will not only ban you from the spa, I will black list you and then I will get Bauvar to file a restraining order against you. Please, leave me alone. I don’t know how many times or how many ways I need to tell you ‘no’ for you to get the hint that I’m not interested in you or having anything to do with you. Please, go home or go anywhere else other than where I work, where I live and stay away from my friends and family. I have been more than kind and patient and professionally polite but that line ends here. Please, go away and leave me and mine alone.” You firmly insisted before you turned around to walk away from him, but he gave chase. 

“So what does this place have that whatever spa I could open up wouldn’t have?” Rick yelled after you. 

“A soul! Integrity, honesty, transparency, continuity, stability, a good reputation, pick any or all of those things. I have worked far too hard and for far too long to have poachers like you try to scavenge off of me.” You said as you turned around and continued to walk backwards towards Bauvar and Macy. 

“But it’s a spa! All you are is a cog in the wheel to them!” Rick hotly argued. 

“So? What’s it to you? Why should you care?” You asked rhetorically. 

“But you’d be a co-owner if we opened up our own place!” Rick yelled. 

“Why would I want to be a co-owner with you when I already am the sole owner of this?!”  You finally snapped as you gestured to the spa before Rick gasped in shock.

“No, no, that other red deer-taur chick is the owner.” Rick tried to argue as he gestured to her picture in the display picture. 

“I am not going to argue with you about this any more. You can believe whatever you want to believe. Now, you will either leave or I’m calling the cops to escort you off the premises, because you are no longer welcome here.” You declared. 

“You don’t have the authority…” Rick tried to argue as Macy was already on the phone with the cops. 

“Try me.” You challenged before in only a few more moments the cops came. 

“My name is Bianca Boven, and I’m the sole proprietor of this business and this person is stalking me and harassing me. I’d like him removed and to file a restraining order.” You urged the cops as Bauvar just stared in shock at the BBB’s website that listed you as the sole owner and proprietor and felt- if anything, supremely humbled by that fact. 

“And I’m Bauvar Leopold, I work with…” Bauvar offered as he showed his ID and business card as he and Macy both gave testimony of Rick’s harassment before Rick just glared hatefully and spitefully at you as he was escorted off the premises and threatened to be towed from his parking spot.  

“Sorry to drag you into this.” You offered to Bauvar once the police left once Rick was escorted away as Bauvar at least walked you back to your car that was parked in the parking garage behind the building as he was happy to ride up the elevator with you to where you and Macy had parked near the top of the parking garage. 

“It’s ok. I’m happy I could help. I’ll get the restraining order at least squared away first thing tomorrow.” Bauvar noted as he walked with you to see where you and Macy had parked together before Macy quickly walked ahead and got in her car to drive home for the night, sensing you were pretty safe in Bauvar’s company.  

“Thank you. Please, don’t forget to bill me for your services.” You reminded him. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He waived off. 

“Well, you’re a lawyer, that’s your bread and butter isn’t it?” You proposed. 

“Nope, my bread and butter is suing corporations for false advertising, and malpractice.” Bauvar offered. 

“Oh, ok then.” You chuckled with a grimace and shake of your head. 

“So I sincerely doubt I’d ever see you or your business.” He offered. 

“I would hope not. I try really hard to avoid both.” You offered. 

“Yeah, I can tell.” He nodded. 

“Well, thanks for this, I owe you.” You offered. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He repeated. 

“Just take the IOU as a professional courtesy.” You insisted with a laugh. 

“Fine, fine, don’t twist my antlers.” He smiled as he ducked his head down as his ears laid back a bit bashfully before you took a step forward and kissed him right on the side of his cheek and muzzle before you booped his nose and quickly took the two more steps towards your car door but hesitated to get in as he started laughing despite his own cheeks, that you could practically see blushing through the fine fur all over them. 

“You booped my nose!” He covered his face with his hands to hide his otherwise flushed and flustered state as you laughed with him. 

“I did.” You confirmed. 

“I thought my grandma would be the only one to boop my nose after like, elementary school.” He admitted as his tears had started to bring a tear or two to his eyes as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles because he had practically dissolved into a laughing fit himself. 

“Well, now, you’ve been booped, as an adult, how does it feel?” You asked. 

“It’s not fair.” He insisted as he just shook his head but his smile was absolutely precious and particularly bright and beautiful. 

“Why isn’t it fair?” You asked with a tilt of your head as you turned to face him before he closed the distance between you. 

“Because it probably won’t be the same if I tried to boop your nose.” He offered. 

“You can try.” You leaned towards him, with your nose presented to him before he reached forward and booped it which got you to giggle. 

“Better?” You asked. 

“Almost.” He admitted as he was just about to try to kiss you, before his phone chimed as did yours. 

“Sorry, I gotta go, and tuck the kids into bed. Thanks for this and thanks for your help today, I really appreciated it.” You thanked him before you opened the door to your big SUV and got in. 

“You’re welcome, yeah, get home and get to the family. I guess I should have asked if you had a husband or boyfriend who would mind if I played boyfriend huh?” He realized. 

“Actually, there isn’t one. So don’t worry about that.” You offered with a bittersweet smile and subtle shake of your head as his heart broke to know that you were trying to raise a family all on your own and could only hope that the ungrateful bastard was at least paying good child support. 

 “Well, in that case, would you mind if we played this charade again? I have a social thing at the office next weekend and we’re expected to bring a plus one because the president of the company is throwing it with his wife. Would you mind pretending to be my girlfriend for it? Because usually at these things, the ones who try to fuck their way to the top come out en force and I really don’t want to be a target for the social ladder climber.” He admitted. 

“Uh, next weekend? What day?” You asked. 

“Saturday night?” He answered with a slight grimace. 

“What time?” You asked. 

“It’s at 7.” He answered. 

“Yeah I could swing that. You could pick me up from here and drop me off here after.” You volunteered. 

“Thank you so much.” Bauvar blew out a breath of relief. 

“So how fancy is this shindig? Formal? Black tie?” You asked. 

“Uh, business formal.” He answered. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Text me the details so we can color coordinate.” You offered and smiled when his own smile brightened quite a bit. 

“Will do.” He nodded. 

“Goodnight Beaver.” You teased which got him to laugh again, because even though he usually hated that mispronunciation of his name, he appreciated your sense of humor regardless. 

“Goodnight Beautiful Bianca.” He offered in kind and grinned when you rolled your eyes and shook your head before you got into the vehicle and started it up and waived goodbye at him before you went home. 

[inapat16]

All that Tunisian cinema has to offer

Tunisian cinema was a forerunner. It offered the world its originality thanks to the genius of its filmmakers (e.g. Nacer Khémir) and its contribution to cinematographic production (e.g. the JCC). Tunisian cinema was born in a particularly fertile soil, that of cinephilia and admiration for the great works of the 7th art worldwide, and it's thanks to him that I've opened up to this art. Also Film clubs and the JCC helped to shape both filmmakers and a demanding public, of which I think I am the product. 

From the outset, there was no question of aligning with the 'old' Arab cinema in existence (Egyptian commercial cinema), Tunisian cinema wanted to stand out from the melodramas and the musical films from which a few 'auteurs' were struggling to emerge. For the majority of Tunisian filmmakers, it was more a question of succeeding, each according to his or her own style, with original “expression” films (political, social, cultural, etc.) bearing the stamp of their director and aiming for the artistic quality already achieved at a world level.

This freedom of choice has been helped by the fact that Tunisia also doesn’t have film censorship (different from television censorship) which is undoubtedly one of the most flexible in the Arab world: scenes that are banned in other Arab countries like the celebration of female nudity (Halfaouine (1990)), homosexuality (L’Homme de cendre (1986)), political repression (Sabot en Or (1988)), sex tourism (Bezness (1992)), women's right to sexual fulfilment (Fatma (2001), Satin rouge (2002)) were finally accepted by Tunisian censors as long as they were expressed by artists and were necessary to the coherence of their work.

The miracle started with L'Homme de cendres (1986), unlike most countries of the South where arthouse films remain confined to the ghettos of arthouse cinemas or are exclusively destined for the 'prestige' of foreign festivals, Tunisian audiences gave national films an unprecedented triumph, (shattering by far all previous audience records for Hollywood or Egyptian films), even for "difficult" films such as Chich Khan (1991). Thus Tunisian cinema invented a new cinematographic category, that of "mass auteur films" ! Today, this type of cinema continues to shine, with films such as Enhebek, Ya Hedi (2016) and Ashkal (2022). These movies continue to delight a broad local audience while retaining their 'auteur' touch. Kaouther Ben Hania's next film, Les filles d'Ofla (2023), which was a hit at Cannes, also promises to be a mass success despite its offbeat subject and direction.

However, today, even if Tunisian cinema continues in its tradition to amaze, it is losing its stature because of politics and economic decisions. After the revolution, cinema was destabilised just like the rest of the country.

The Ministry of Culture now only funds three films a year and almost always turns its back on single-screen cinemas. Many of them are now turning to foreign institutional support, which is deplorable because it encourages neo-colonialism.

What's more, the cinema I always went to (Ciné Jamil) had to close its doors last year, despite having tried to obtain state subsidies. Meanwhile, a Pathé multiplex has opened in the country's two biggest cities. When I heard the news, my heart broke and the Tunisian cinema that had nurtured so many dreams is now in perdition.Today, a much more globalist, capitalist and neo-colonialist policy is taking hold, whereas for years Tunisia had managed to resist it.

In the meantime, all we can do is hope for an economic reorganisation and the awakening of a "young new wave" that will shake up the country's politics and ensure the success of tomorrow's Tunisian cinema.

Maya Labiadh

[nicb0723]

Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

Notes: Depression trigger warning 

Word Count: 11,754

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2

**

Before work you go grocery shopping and run some errands. You clean up a lot and wonder how the hell John’s personality will fit in your tiny apartment. He doesn’t say much but he can be so intense. You can’t imagine the two of you together, alone, in this tiny space. 

In the bathroom you hesitate as you pick up your prescription. The doctor thought it would take the edge off your anxiety, and make the depression manageable. She also made sure you were seeing someone for therapy.  For now, the pill once a day does work. You can breathe. You can function. You’d be a fool to think all of your problems would disappear overnight. You still have a long road of recovery ahead, but this makes it less overwhelming. You place the little plastic container in the medicine cabinet, somewhere John won’t see it. You wouldn’t put it past him if he snooped, but in a way you're proud that you were able to talk about your problems and get some help. 

At work Sam is with you and currently making fun of your limp after you tell him why there’s a bruise on your foot. He’s asking if you want him to go buy you a cane when John waltzes in, hair slicked back and suit jacket blowing from the wind. How someone can look like a model in a gas station you’ll never know. He stares until you go to him and ask what the hell he’s doing here.

“Getting gas.” He answers and reaches for his wallet.

You don’t say anything and ring him up, glancing outside to his car parked in spot one. 

Sam is watching you two interact and he has the biggest grin on his face. Is that your boyfriend? He mouths behind John’s back and you cough in shock. No, and yeah right, like you could ever get a guy like John in a million years. 

“Hello!” Sam says loudly and teasingly bumps your hip with his behind the counter. 

John raises an eyebrow and glances to you first, then nods to Sam. “Hi.”

“John, this is Sam my co-worker and Sam, this is John my um… friend?”

True surprise flickers in John’s brown eyes and he looks pleased, a slow small smile spreads on his lips. 

“She’s actually my boss, but nice to meet you.” Sam says and his attention is drawn to the classic car outside and the gushing begins. 

You let the two of them talk until you hear John offer to show him the engine and they both move to go outside. “Hey, I’ll see you later?” 

Sam smirks and you nod at John, wondering how he knows where you live. It’s a little weird that he broke into your place just to fix a leaking faucet and he was in your apartment without you even knowing.  In the back of your mind, you think that it’s actually pretty thoughtful. You mindlessly wonder why he would waste his time though. Why he would do any of the things that he did. He said that he would help anyone in the same situation as you, but you’ve been thinking about that question since the day at the lake, and you’re too scared to ask him. You’re scared to see the look on his face, the look of pity because that’s all you can think that he’ll say. 

You hear John’s car peel away and Sam comes back inside, still grinning like an idiot. 

“What?” You ask, not really wanting to know.

“Nothing.” Sam hops up on the counter and he knows he’s not supposed to sit there. “I think he likes you.”

“And what makes you say that.” You deadpan, pushing at his butt with the tip of your pen.

Sam slides down and knocks over a display of gum. “He told me to look out for you.”

“Oh yeah? I can see you’d be very threatening.” You point to the packs of gum all over the floor. 

He bends down and starts to pick up the mess. “What’d you need looking out for anyway?”

“Nothing, he's just being protective I guess.”

Sam looks at you with concern. “From what?”

“Nothing. I promise, okay?”

For the rest of the night Sam shows you his karate moves and chops up air until closing time. 

**

John is folded up in the corner of your couch with his legs crossed at the knees and his black leather shoe tapping your coffee table. He’s reading one of the old magazines you have laying around. 

“How was work?” He asks, folding the magazine shut, like this is the most normal thing in the world. 

You check the locks on your door to see if they’re broken, but they’re not. You turn the handle again to make sure the door is shut all the way. 

“I should probably give you a key if you’re going to let yourself in.” 

John shrugs. “If you want.” 

Tossing your purse on the kitchen table you make your way to the living room and sit on the chair across from the couch. John looks so out of place, but you can tell he’s trying to blend in, make himself belong in your little apartment. 

“Who’s taking care of your dog while you’re here?” You ask, kicking your feet up. 

“Pooch? The little girl next door. She loves him.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually named him Pooch. I don’t even think that’s an actual word, I think my grandma made it up.”

John shrugs again you can tell he’s definitely not a man to waste any words. “It stuck. It’s... cute.”

“Cute? I can’t see you thinking anything is cute.” You grin and stand up to take your jacket and shoes off to get more comfortable. You can hear him mutter something under his breath, but can’t catch it.  “So do we know if Max is officially out yet?” 

“No, I’m waiting for the call though. I’ll know as soon as it happens.”

You don’t have any doubt.  “Do you want something to eat or drink?” You open the refrigerator for some juice. ”I usually have a snack when I get home. Feel free to take anything you want.” 

John tries to settle back on the couch but he seems stiff. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You can take off your tie and your jacket at least. You’ll probably be here for awhile.” You call out to him, your head sticking in the cupboard looking for the popcorn you put in there earlier. 

John doesn’t move and you gesture for him to get up as you crawl back in your chair with a bag of food. 

“You sure about that?”

“Yes of course I’m sure. Why would I not be sure?” You look at him like he’s crazy as he slowly stands and oh… that’s why.

The suit jacket comes off and he carefully lays it over the side table. His slender waist is circled with a large utility belt with three guns, two clips, and probably a knife. The sight makes your eyes widen. He stares at you as he slowly unfastens the buckle and gently places it on top of his jacket. 

“Don’t go near that.” He points sternly and sits back down, this time more comfortable. He takes his cell phone out of his pocket and sets it on the couch next to him. 

“Definitely not. Are you planning on using any of that?”

“Scare tactic.” 

Silence fills the room as you crunch on your popcorn and you’re actually feeling pretty tired. You’d like to go to bed, but you’re not sure what John’s plans are exactly. 

“So how is this going to happen?” You ask.  “Are you going to come to work with me too? Are you going to run my errands with me? I mean, I’d love the company but I don’t see you wandering around Target for an hour.”

“I don’t mind going to Target with you.” His voice is so serious you can’t help but smile. “I don’t think he’ll come around during the day though. He wants you alone. Scared. Vulnerable. And I have my cop friend keeping an eye on you at work. It’s on his beat anyway.”

“Okay.” That all sounds reasonable. Dread and doubt suddenly take hold of you. “Look, maybe I’m wrong? Maybe he won’t bother with me and we can just forget about it? Maybe there’s nothing to worry about at all.”

John shakes his head. “I read his record. It’s not good.”

Well, crap. You don’t want to talk about Max anymore and you don’t want to ask the one question that’s been hounding your mind. You’re still too scared to know the reason John is here, so you ask something else. “Are you ever going to sleep? You can’t stay up all night waiting.”

“I’ll sleep until I know he’s out.” John says easily. “Then after that I have motion detection alerts on my phone from the camera outside your floor.”

You blink at him. “There are cameras on the door of the elevator?”

“There are now.”

“How’d that happen?” You’ve never noticed any security cameras anywhere. 

“I talked to Francis, the apartment manager. He’s a nice guy.”

You blink at him again. “I know, but he only speaks Russian. How’d you talk to him?”

John smirks and says, “Bez truda.” 

It’s all a little too much and you get up, shaking your head in disbelief. “How is this my life right now? How do I get myself into these things? I have an assassin in my apartment… I’m going to take a shower!” You announce after a minor anxiety attack. “Feel free to turn on the TV, get comfortable, whatever you want.”

The water feels good as you scrub away the day. It relaxes you until swarming thoughts of John sitting on your couch make you hurry out of the tub and wrap yourself in the flannel bathrobe you always wear. Before you lose your nerve you walk back into the living room and find John where you left him, now looking at his phone. 

“They’re just starting to process paperwork. That means it’ll be a few hours.” John’s talking, but doesn’t look up. You start to brush your wet hair out and twist it loosely on top of your head for the night. Usually you’d smear face cream all over but that obviously is not going to happen. 

“Look, John. I know we hardly know each other, but you can sleep in the bed, okay?” You start to turn off the kitchen lights and check the front door one more time to make sure it’s locked. “It’s plenty big enough and I would just feel better.”

He’s looking at you with warm eyes now, his mouth open but nothing is coming out. It’s like his brain turned a switch and decided something important. Whatever he’s thinking must be big because his whole demeanor changes. You can’t quite figure it out, but he seems content to be here with you, where just a few moments ago he had a guard up and was struggling with something on his mind. Somehow and unknowingly, you sense that you’ve just started to break down his wall.  You have no idea what you did, you’re just being yourself, but for the first time John is vulnerable. He’s blinking slowly, as if he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light, or finally giving himself permission to really see you.

It doesn’t matter though, because you know you look like a complete dork in your bathrobe and suddenly you feel incredibly stupid. Shame floods your stomach and you almost feel sick. Of course, this man wouldn’t want to be in the same bed as you. He’d probably rather die. You can’t believe you even suggested it. Also, your therapist would be terribly disappointed in you for talking down to yourself like this. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

He stands up and grabs a small leather bag you hadn’t seen by the widow. “Yes. If it’ll make you feel safer.” 

No. No. That’s not how you wanted it to happen. You wanted John to want to sleep in the bed, not because you asked him. “Listen, I didn’t mean… I’ll take the couch, okay? You probably don’t want to share the bed with me, I totally understand. And you’re doing me a favor and I just want you to be comfortable.”

Utter confusion crosses his handsome face. He scratches at his beard with long fingers, trying to make sense of what you want. “What good would that do? With you sleeping on the couch?”

You stammer and can feel a flush develop on your cheeks. “I just thought… I don’t know.”

“If you rather, I can book you a room in a hotel for a few nights. I won’t… do anything to you. I can promise you that.”

Oh God. This conversation could not get any worse. You’re horrified that he thinks something like that and you try terribly to explain. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to go to a hotel. I just meant that um, you probably don’t want to share a bed with someone like me.” 

“Someone like you?”

The flush is creeping up to your neck as you become more embarrassed. You point at your bathrobe and general dorkiness. “Yeah, like someone… not… exactly… uh… cute?”

He seems to realize what you’re trying to say and laughs a little. “Well it’s a good thing there’s no one not cute in this apartment. I don’t know how I could ever sleep.” He walks towards you and gently tucks the hair that had fallen in your eyes behind your ears. It’s very intimate and you feel yourself start to smile. “Can we go to bed now?” He moves his arm out for you to lead the way and you feel silly. John is a nice guy. Even if he really didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, he probably still would because it’s what you wanted. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You mumble and walk into the bedroom with him following. There’s not much clutter and it’s pretty bare besides the newly bought self help books on the nightstand and regular girly stuff littered on the dresser. John throws his bag on the floor and you grab some pajamas for yourself, heading to the bathroom to change. 

When you come back John is wearing a white t-shirt and soft blue sleep pants. He’s incredibly adorable and you can’t believe your luck of having him in your room right now. He must’ve grabbed his phone and weapons because they’re both on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

He looks you up and down in your tank top and shorts as you plop on the mattress, quickly getting under the covers. 

“This okay?” He asks and points to his own clothes. Was he expecting for you to want him to sleep in his suit?

“Yeah of course. But...  can you fight in pajamas?” You wrinkle your nose and tease him. “That’s not very assassin-y.”

He barks out a laugh and lays down, but he doesn’t get under the sheets. His feet are bare and long, and you keep peeking at his toes.  “I think it’ll be fine.”

You roll over and face him. He’s looking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. 

“I can’t believe you’re here right now.”

He doesn’t move. “Why?”

Your eyes start to become heavy and you watch his chest move up and down in slow rhythmic breaths. “People don’t usually do nice things for me. I’m used to being on my own.”

With that he shifts on his side, towards you.  His hair falls in his eyes and you long to brush it away. “I can tell.”

“I don’t like asking for help.”

“You never asked me for anything.” John points out. There’s plenty of space between the both of you and flop your arm towards his side, pointing at him teasingly.

“Oh, I distinctly remember asking you to do one very specific thing and you failed.”

He squirms from the quick stabs of your pointer finger at his ribs. “I don’t know, I think things turned out pretty perfect.”

You scoff and roll to your stomach now, sliding your arms under the pillow. “Perfect? Yeah right, I’m sure this is the last place you want to be.”

“It is perfect. This bed is very comfortable.” John finally gets under the blankets and you giggle sleepily. His cologne is stirred by his movement and you savor the spicy smell. 

“It’s new. I got a raise at work. I’m an assistant manager now.” You tell him proudly, even though you know it’s not that big of an accomplishment.

“Oh excuse me, Miss Assistant Manager.” John smiles and acts extremely impressed. “Congratulations, by the way. I should take you out to celebrate.”

You have no idea if he’s serious or not so you just laugh and snuggle down more into the bed. After a minute you ask, “Do you think Max will come tonight?”

John pauses, thinking. “Hard to say. He doesn’t have a good past. He has friends in high places who will probably help him. How’d you meet a guy like that anyway?”

“How is that you know my name, where I live, my phone number, where I work, what car I drive… literally everything about me and you don’t know that?”

John brushes the hair from his eyes and you can see the tan line around his ring finger has started to finally fade. “That’s just part of the job.”

“Fixing leaking water faucets is part of being an assassin?” You ask, teasing again.

A sweet pink flush spreads on John’s cheeks. “Shush.” 

“That’s what I thought.”

He pretends to glare. “Maybe it is. You don’t know.” 

“You’re right, I don’t know.” You yawn and let your eyes fall close. “Can I tell you tomorrow though? I’m gonna pass out.”

You hear the click of the side lamp turn off and you want to stay awake, to soak in this moment a little more but sleep is overpowering and you drift off into a peaceful rest. 

**

Until about two o’clock in the morning, and then you start to toss and turn. You swear there’s a noise out in the living room but you also know you’re probably being paranoid. You can see the shape of John’s body just a few inches away and you want to reach over to him. 

“Hey.” He whispers and his voice startles you still. “Are you okay?”

“No.” You sit up a little and look towards your bedroom door. There’s a stream of light from the street lamps coming in through the window, but other than that it’s dark. “I thought I heard something.”

“It was just the air kicking on. You’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You feel John’s palm rest on your arm and squeeze. “Positive.”

“Is he out? Did you get a text or anything?”

“Hey, don’t worry about anything, okay? I promise you’re safe.”

You fall back on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

You're wide awake and this whole situation is baffling. John Wick is in your bed, squeezing your arm and comforting you. 

“Isn’t being an assassin illegal?” You blurt out, the darkness giving you courage, and you instantly regret asking the question because he pulls away.

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.” He says quietly. “Trust me, I tried to retire and I got sucked back in somehow. People seem to want only me for really hard jobs.”

“Couldn’t you get arrested or something if you got caught? Could I get in trouble with you being here?” 

“No. Sometimes cops need bad guys to go away too. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Oh.”

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I just don’t always get myself into the best situations. I feel really safe with you, I just…” You don’t meet an assassin everyday. You have no idea what it really means. 

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

He laughs softly and his fingers brush the back of your arm now. “Nothing you ever ask will offend me. It’s actually quite refreshing. I just hope…”

You wait for him to finish, but he seems to be gathering his thoughts and you don’t want to rush him. 

“I hope you can think of me as a friend before an assassin. And I hope that I don’t scare you.”

“I don’t scare easily.” You mumble and yawn, glancing back to your bedroom door. You ignore the friend comment because you feel like you’ve already been through hell and back. You don’t know if you could consider John as a friend and then lose him someday. It might break you all over again. But then you think of how far you’ve come. “I could probably take Max. I could get him to leave me alone now that I have my mind straight.”

“You think so?” John is sincere and you can hear he’s happy at your mental growth. 

“Yeah maybe. As long as he’s clean and not hopped up on something. Then it might be harder.”

“I guess we’ll see.” John checks his phone and puts it down again after looking briefly at it. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?”

“Yes. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Stop apologizing.” He shifts to his side, with his back to you. 

It’s a strong, solid back with his shoulder blades poking out from underneath his t-shirt. You stare until your eyes feel heavy again. You feel safe.

**

The next time you wake up the sun is blaring from the window and John is gone. His leather bag is still by the bed though, but his suit jacket and all of his guns are gone too. 

You start to go about your business, not believing John would leave you alone if you were in any kind of danger. It’s almost creepy how your phone alerts a few seconds later with a text, like he knows that you’re up. 

No need to worry. I know where he is. I’ll see you later tonight. Let me know if anything happens.

You text back sounds good and John tells you to have a nice day.

It just so happens that you have the next two days off from work and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your foot still hurts from the baseball bat incident so you zone out in front of the TV for a while, trying to forget all of your problems. That doesn’t really work so the next best thing is to venture through the kitchen. You have snacks but not much else. Maybe it would be nice if you could fix John a nice dinner or something, for hanging out with you and like, protecting you from a shitty ex boyfriend. 

Some nice meat might do the trick. A nice steak with a potato and veggies. One thing grandma did that was awesome? Was to teach you how to cook. Wanting to actually cook was a different story for the last few years, the thought making you ill when you were practically a walking zombie, but now the thought excites you. It’s also different to cook for someone than just yourself because it’s usually not worth all the hassle.

Quickly, you get dressed and head out to the nearby grocery store. It's quiet and you take your time walking down the aisles with your cart, wondering what sorts of things John likes to eat. He probably stays healthy but a part of you thinks that he might have a sweet tooth. You grab everything you need, including some pie for dessert and head back home to get started.

There’s a ton of food so you text John to come over hungry and don’t eat any dinner. 

He doesn’t reply back immediately and your stomach starts to sink. What if this is too much? Is this weird? It’s just dinner, right? Friends have dinner together. John has to eat sometime. 

He eventually texts back a simple okay and you take it for what it is. There’s nothing you can do about it now, and since you’ve never really cooked in this kitchen before, if it turns out terrible you can always order pizza. 

It doesn’t turn out terrible, in your opinion, and you’re actually impressed with yourself. There’s a knock on the door right when you're finishing setting the table and John scolds you for not asking who it was before opening the door. He’s still in the middle of his speech when he gets a whiff of steak and sees that the table is set nicely. 

“What’s all this?” He asks, smoothing down his expensive silk tie. 

You pull out a chair for him to sit down. “It’s just a little thank you.”

He doesn’t look happy with that answer.

“It’s me making my friend dinner… randomly?” You try again. 

He laughs and nods, accepting that instead and removes his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “Do you mind if I…” He points to his waist and waits for you to nod before unclipping the belt, putting it in the bedroom for the night. 

“Wine? Beer?” You ask, debating which you want. 

“Usually I would, but…”

You understand that he’s working, even though he’d hate it if you said it aloud, and put them both away. “How about some ice tea?”

“Sure.” John sits and folds a napkin in his lap. He’s watching you and when you bring over a plate full of food there’s an unmistaken gasp. “Wow, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” You sit down too and pass him the salt and pepper. “I forgot how much fun it is to cook. I haven’t made anything since grandma was sick and I stopped eating. But today it was like she was in the kitchen with me.” You stop and close your eyes, embarrassed. “Sorry, that was weird to say.”

“Not the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He reminds you hesitantly, but with a small smile. 

Heat warms your cheeks and you have to chuckle in agreement. “True. I feel like that was so long ago though. I’m like a different person now. You must’ve thought I was crazy.” You don’t say that you’re grateful you accidentally gave your phone number to a police informant.  That it was John who showed up that day. That it wasn’t some crook who could’ve used a few hundred dollars. 

“I didn’t think you were crazy.” John takes a big bite of steak and moans a little. “This is really good. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.”

“You don’t cook much?” You ask, waiting for him to make another noise of pleasure. 

“I hate cooking for just myself.” He says, but otherwise he is disappointingly quiet. 

You take a bite of vegetables and nod in agreement, trying to hide your swelling of excitement. Well, that’s that. He is single. No big deal, you tell yourself to calm the hell down in your head. It doesn't matter anyway. It’s not like anything would ever happen. “So, you didn’t think I was crazy? What did you think?”

John puts down his fork and looks at you, his chin resting on his hand thoughtfully. “I thought you looked really tired. That you needed help and had nowhere else to turn.”

You gently rub a finger under your eye, where you know there used to be darkened circles. Now your eyes are bright and alive. You blush at his observation. 

“What’d you think when you saw me?” He asks, interested again in his steak but keeping an attentive ear to everything you say.

You don’t know why, but you feel a surge of confidence. “I thought I was talking to the most attractive hitman in all of New York and that there was no way I could afford your... business.” 

John raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Really?”

Shrugging, you take another bite of food and swallow. “I don’t know what I was really thinking, honestly. It was not my best day. I just wanted to get the conversation over with. I wasn’t in the right mindset.” 

“But therapy is going well?” 

You’re not surprised that he knew about that, but it does make you pause that he actually asked. “Definitely. It’s going very well. And she’s a fan of you, by the way.”

“Me?” 

“Don’t worry, she thinks you're an undercover cop.” 

John leans over his plate, trying to get closer to you. “What exactly do you say about me?”

“That’s personal!”

“Fine.” He leans back now in his chair and crosses his arms, fake disappointment in a pout on his lips. “Then I won’t tell you about what I found out today.”

You glare at him. “Isn’t that blackmail?”

“Or extortion.” He shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and sigh.  “I told her about all of the nice stuff you did for me, even though it was creepy, and how you probably saved my life.”

He blinks at that, obviously not expecting you to be so forward. “Oh. And what did she say?”

“She said to be careful about you breaking into my place and stealing my car… but that it sounded like I made a really good friend.”

John is suddenly silent and tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “Just… just a friend?”

Your stomach does a little flip and you’re not sure where he’s going with this. “I’m pretty sure all I can have is friends right now.” You tell him slowly, trying to get all of your words exactly right. “I need to find my worth, be happy with myself… before I can do that for someone else, you know?”

John nods and his eyes are sad for a brief second but when he looks up at you, he’s proud. “I think that’s great. And I’m happy to help remind you that you’re pretty awesome.”

“Reminders are nice.” You tell him with a small smile. “Especially considering they come from a bad ass assassin.”

John chuckles and finishes his steak. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt. He looks a little tired and you wonder what he did all day.

“So what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, right. Max. He seems to be doing well. He’s living with his mom across town and he was spotted going into an AA meeting.”

You’re stunned. In a good way. “Really? He was always such a heavy drinker. That’s where I met him. At the bar across the street from the hospital. When visiting hours were over and I didn’t have to work, I’d go there a lot. And well, I guess he spotted a weak one.” You think back to those days when he was nice to you at first, which quickly changed into becoming manipulative and controlling. The final straw was when he said that you couldn’t visit your grandmother anymore. You lost it and he raised a hand at you, several times. You never want to be that weak. Ever again.  “Well that’s good news, right?”

“Yeah.” John rubs at his beard. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t relapse.”

You stand up and start to clear the dishes from the table. “So you don’t have to stay the night, probably.”

“No, I’ll stay at least one more night. Just to be safe.”

You give him a disapproving look. You really hate to waste his time.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here. One more night and I’ll be out of your hair.”

That’s not at all what you meant by giving him a look so you just shake your head. “It’s nice to have the company. I just don’t think my apartment is where you want to spend your nights.”

“And where exactly do you think I spend my nights?”

The sink is full of soap and John stands to clear the rest of the plates and cups. “I picture this really fancy nightclub or rave with techno music and neon lights and beautiful women dancing around you.”

John hands over a plate and looks at you like you’re nuts. “You have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh, like that’s never happened.” You deadpan.

“Well, I can’t say never... “ John leans against the counter and offers to help you. 

“No, I got it but thank you. And also, I knew it. I just don’t see you like… dancing to techno music.” You make a face and stick out your tongue a little. You hate techno.

John laughs. “I don’t go there to dance. If I’m at a club or something it’s usually for work.”

“Ah, I see.” You move to get the dish rag to dry the silverware. “So, where do all the beautiful women throw themselves at you?”

He’s not really paying attention when he answers and he’s looking at something on the ground. “Well lately it’s been at a lake and a local gas station. Is that a bruise?” John bends down and slowly traces the swirls of black and blue colors on top of your foot. The touch stings a little but you hold still. 

“Oh uh... “ God, how stupid. You didn’t think it was that noticeable. “Yeah.”

“Your whole foot is swollen.” His eyes are huge when he stands up and looks at you, his hands on his hips. “What happened?” He growls out and you push past him, considerably embarrassed and turned on all at once. 

“I did it to myself, okay? It’s not a big deal.” 

“You’re limping.” He exasperates, but he gently puts an arm around your waist and helps guide you to sit down. You put your foot on the coffee table and it does look worse than it did yesterday, puffy and colorful. 

You grimince and don’t want to tell him. “It was just a silly accident. Sam at work already made fun of me, so let’s just forget it.”

John disappears to the kitchen and you can hear ice being gathered. He comes back and sits on the coffee table, slowly moving your foot to his lap and putting a towel full of ice by your toes, where the worst of the purples are blooming. 

“You really don’t have to do that. It’s not that bad. I was just on my feet all day and I didn’t think about it. It’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

His fingers are so gentle around your ankle and you can’t help but to stare at his big hand surrounding your delicate bones. “Hey.” John taps on your skin until you look up at him. “You’re worth being taken care of, okay?”

Well, he got you there damnit. “Oh, that’s a good one.” You’re impressed and you let him hold your foot, sitting back to relax. Your therapist would be really pleased that you let someone help you.

“Are you going to tell me or are we going to sit here all night?”

You briefly tell him how you got the bruise and his fingers stop tracing over your skin long enough for him to laugh. Loudly.

“It’s not that funny.” You scowl at him.

“It’s really funny.” He’s snickering now and you swear there’s a tear at his eye. He moves to wipe it away and mumbles something like, “you are the cutest... “ and then clears his throat and straightens up. “You’ll have to show me your moves.”

“Uh, no, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for tonight, thank you.”

John rubs at your ankle again, squeezing around your leg lightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mean to the patient.”

“Exactly right.” You agree and smirk when you think of payback. “You gonna kiss it better?”

Without hesitation John takes off the towel and presses his lips to your cold skin. All you can do is stare at his beard and then at the teal nail polish on your toes. You’re speechless.

“It didn’t seem to work.” John says, disappointment in his voice. “I guess I’ll have to work on my technique.” 

He says that last part suggestively and you sit up in the chair, ready to change the subject. “I got dessert. You like pie, right?”

“Do I like pie? What kind of question is that?”

“Can you get it?” You smile sweetly at him. “It’s on the counter.”

He gives you a knowing look but lifts your foot to get up. You can see his reflection in the window as he moves around in your kitchen and you watch him in disbelief. You realize you’ve never had anyone in your apartment. Not even grandma, she was already too sick when you got it. Max always made you go to his place. John comes back with one plate and two forks, a big slice for both of you to share. 

“This is the best anyone has ever paid me to do a job.” He jokes and you smile back, taking a fork and scooping a bite for yourself. 

You point to an envelope on your desk. “Speaking of getting paid… I know it’s not much, but I did promise you--”

“I was kidding.” John cuts you off. His face is instantly annoyed and hurt. 

“John, please.” Your foot is still propped up on the coffee table and you can’t really move. “I just thought I’d offer.”

“Well, take it back.” He says and you put your hands up in defense, silently telling him not to be mad. “And you just lost pie privileges.” 

“What?”

He stands up and walks over to the couch, as far away from you as possible. “Yeah that’s right. I’m eating all of this myself.”

You huff and struggle to sit up. “That is a radical punishment.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” He takes another big bite, making a show of it. 

“That’s it.” You get up and hobble over to him, practically falling into his side and he lets out a grunt when you accidentally lean into his ribs. You decide to just lay where you are for now, you can’t move if you wanted to. “John, seriously. Pie please.”

He shakes his head with amusement and feeds you a small piece. You take it happily and let your head rest on his shoulder while he finishes and feeds you some more until it’s gone. Both of you are quiet. This is the closest you’ve ever been and you just want to feel his warmth. You know eventually you have to move so you peer up at him and smile. “You have blueberry on your lip.” You tell him, reaching to smudge it off with your thumb. At the same time he licks at it and you both laugh.

“C’mon, cripple. I’m helping you to bed.” He tells you, putting the plate and fork down on the coffee table. You use his thigh to get yourself up and he steadies your waist as you balance on one foot. You’re standing between his legs and he’s looking up at you with the sweetest eyes. 

“Thank you for dinner.” His voice is sincere and determined to get his appreciation across. 

You put your hands on his shoulders and lean some of your weight on him. “John… thank you. Thank you for everything.” And with that you let yourself drop down and you hug him hard. He pulls you close and rubs his hands over your back. His hair brushes your cheek and you breathe in deeply, his scent rushing to your head in the most pleasant high.

Awkwardly, you push yourself away and he grabs at your hands. “You want me to carry you to bed?”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs, letting you wobble towards your bedroom while he takes care of the dishes and turns out all the lights. 

When he’s satisfied everything is in the right place, he walks into your bedroom and stands in the doorway, watching you while you sit on the bed and tie your hair up over your head for the night.

“What?” 

John breaks his stare and walks around to the other side of the bed. “Nothing.” 

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” You ask, grabbing the remote to the set up you have on your dresser. You tend to fall asleep to sitcoms rather than complete silence with thoughts running through your mind at full speed. 

“Actually do you mind if I take a shower?” He asks. “I did a lot of running around.”

Your mouth goes dry and you try to get it together before he notices. “Did you get all sweaty tracking Max today?” You guess, smiling when he looks impressed that you got it right. “See, I could totally be an assassin!” Your smile fades when he points to your foot. “Okay, well I could be an assassin’s secretary. I could like, get all the payments and make appointments and travel arrangements and get your guns cleaned and all that stuff!”

He walks around to his bag and gathers a pair of clean sleep clothes. “And take care of all the dead bodies too?”

You gulp. That’s so disturbing. “Yep. And I could take you to the doctor if you get hurt real bad.” You think back to the bruised knuckles and the dried cut on his face.

He cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute. “That does sound helpful.” 

“Really?”

“Yes and also dangerous. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You stand from the bed to get him a towel. “Um, just to let you know, I’ve seen all the assassin movies.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert.”

Opening your closet, you pull out the softest towel you own. “That sounds very sarcastic.” You push it to John's stomach and he grabs it from you, but you don’t let go and tug it back gently. “I’ll have you know I’m a very quick study, Mr. Wick.”

John briefly closes his eyes and takes a step closer to you. He leans in to whisper, his mouth close to your ear, “You better get off that foot.”

A giggle escapes and you sit down on the bed. “If I didn’t have a bruised foot... then could I be your secretary?”

He walks into the bathroom, and right when he closes the door he stops to tell you no.

Frowning, you crawl back to your pillows. You notice John forgot his pajamas on the bed and you’re about to get up and give them to him, but you decide not to. This should be interesting. 

You’re watching TV innocently when the bathroom door cracks open ten minutes later. Steam is hovering around John’s form and you hide your smile.

“Um… I forgot my…” He points to the clothes on the bed and you point to your foot. 

“I would help you, but I’m a cripple.” You tell him, now smiling because you can’t hide it anymore. You’re trying not to laugh. 

He glares at you when the door opens and you see the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I swear I won’t look.” You tell him, covering your eyes. 

“Are we twelve now?” He mocks, stepping out and picking up his clothes. 

Your smile fades when you look at him because damn. “No, we are definitely not twelve.” You murmur to yourself, and you don’t mean to gock, but he’s fresh out of the shower, glistening skin and tight muscles, toned and strong. He pushes his hair from his face and notices you watching him. 

There’s a smug grin when he turns around and your heart completely skips a beat. All you see are flashes of tattoos, black lines and shading on his back. Maybe on his arms too but it was so fast. If you could only make time stand still. 

Now you’re glaring when he comes back into the bedroom a few minutes later. He’s glancing at you very casually. “What?”

“You did that on purpose.”

He laughs and gets under the covers. “What? Forget my clothes?”

“No. Showing off all of your…” You gesture to his body. “Never mind.” You can’t believe this is happening and turn towards the TV, trying to forget the hotness laying beside you. Nope. You can’t. “John, why are you doing this?”

He sits up a little. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Why are you helping me?” There. You finally asked it. Here comes the pity party.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, confused. When you don’t say anything, he asks another question. “Would you help me if I needed it?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course I would.”

“Well,” he lays back down and looks blankly at the TV. “There’s your answer.”

“But you hardly know me.”

He briefly glances at you. “Does it matter? I would want to help anyone. What are we watching?”

You laugh at how simple it was all this time. You should really stop overthinking everything. “Do you want to watch Friends or Seinfeld?”

“Who and what?” He asks, not knowing at all your favorite shows. 

You caress his cheek and pet him softly. “You poor, innocent man. I have a lot to teach you about laughing.”

He shoves your hand away playfully. “I watch TV… sometimes.”

“When you’re not doing assassin-y stuff.”

John sighs and closes his eyes. “Yes, when I’m not working.”

“Mmhm.” You don’t really believe him. You figure he reads a lot or studies, or does something really smart. Never really does anything just for fun. “We should totally go to a movie tomorrow!” You say it jokingly, like he would ever agree to something so mindless, but you can hardly believe it when he nods and says okay. “Really? You would go to a movie?”

“Isn’t that what friends do together, right?”

You wouldn’t have any idea. You don’t have friends and you haven’t been to the movies in ages. You hate going by yourself and you never had enough money.

“I think so?” You respond, not really knowing.

He lets out a little yawn. “All of my friends are… well, you know. I don’t see any of them going to a movie.”

“But you would?”

“With you? Yes. You’re not in the business, clearly.”

You throw a pillow at him,  but he quickly catches it and puts it behind his head. You mumble to yourself of course and turn off the light. “Just for that, I get to pick.”

He groans and you laugh as you tuck yourself in under the covers. You feel excited for tomorrow. Your therapist was right, you did make a good friend. Even if both of you have no idea what exactly that means. 

**

You’re still in bed when John is getting coffee from the kitchen, looking at your phone for movie times. “Don’t worry, I will not make you sit through a chick flick… or a disney movie… or a musical.” 

“Do you take cream and sugar?” John asks, popping his head into the bedroom. You nod yes to both and he disappears again.

“Oh! There’s a new sci-fi movie out. You like aliens, right? It looks scary too.” 

John comes back into the room with two steaming hot cups. He hands one to you carefully and you take a slow sip. “Mmm. This is really good, thank you.”

He looks pleased with himself as he gets back into your bed, sitting with his legs crossed under him. His hair is messed up a little and he’s still in his pajamas. The sight is really cute. You’re kind of sad that it was the last night he’s here. You quickly got used to him in your apartment and having someone to come home to was so nice. He already mastered your crappy coffee machine and he does the dishes. But the sleepovers are done and you wish it had lasted a little longer, purely for selfish reasons. 

You must be staring at him for too long because he stops drinking his coffee and gives you a small smile. “What?”

Dunking your head, you’re embarrassed that he caught you. “Nothing.”

He grins, like he can read your mind but doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “What time’s the movie?” 

“Let’s see…” You tap at your phone, scrolling through the options. “How about this afternoon? Then we could get something to eat or whatever.”

Now he’s really smiling and now he really does call you out. “Wouldn’t this be like… a date? Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“What!” You shriek and put your coffee down on the nightstand, stretching your leg over to try and push him off the bed, but he doesn’t move an inch and just laughs at you. “Oh. My. God.  Absolutely not, you weirdo. Why can’t two people just hang out? Jerry and Elaine do it all the time!” You point to the TV in your defense, trying to remind him of the show you watched last night. 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” John puts his coffee down too and grabs your foot to inspect the bruise. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, still not being able to fathom John Wick flirting with you. It’s probably all a joke to him anyway so you continue to ignore it. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”

He slides your pant leg up and takes a closer look. “Well, it’s not as dark as it was yesterday. Still a little swollen.”

“Told you it would be fine.”

“You’re welcome.” He cracks a smile and you remember the kiss he placed there last night. “Do you need anything else to feel better?”

“Ugh, gross.” Rolling your eyes even harder. “Your flirting is terrible.” 

He grabs at his heart like it hurts. “I take offense to that.”

“Good, that was the point.” You get up from the bed and open the closet, searching for something to wear today. “It’s probably the one thing you’re not good at.”

“I could be good at it.” He says, sipping his coffee again. “I’m just rusty. I need to practise.”

You don’t turn around. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats slowly, and then horrified, “Wait.. I’m not skeezy am I?”

That makes you laugh and you sit back down on the bed. “No, John. You’re not skeezy. You’re like the opposite of skeezy. You’re too nice to be skeezy.”

“I’m too nice?”

“Yeah.” You get up again and fiddle with your hair that’s fallen in your face. “I know you say these things just to be nice to me. I know it doesn’t mean anything. It’s sweet though, it’s fun. I get it.”

Slowly, he shakes his head, trying to comprehend your thoughts. “So, you’re saying I could never be serious about flirting with you?”

“Ha, not in this lifetime.” You gather your bathrobe and head for a shower. “Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. I know exactly how far out of your league I am.”

Now John is the one rolling his eyes. You don’t give him a chance to say anything though and close the door to the bathroom, finally able to catch your breath a little. He still makes you nervous, you realize, and you hope the feeling fades the more time you spend with him because it seems like he needs a friend just as much as you do.

**

You’re brushing your teeth when John taps a knuckle on the door.

“Do you mind if we stop at my place before the movie?”

“You don’t want to wear a suit all day?”

“Not really.” He smiles. “And I have to pick up the dog.”

“Oh right!” You spit into the sink and wash your mouth. “I want some puppy kisses.”

John looks at your lips and then to your eyes. It’s fast, but you still see it. And if you didn’t he mutters, “tease” and leaves to go out the front door.

You grab your purse on the way out and he waits patiently for you to lock the door behind you. He has his bag with him and you’re disappointed it’s not still in your apartment. You wonder if he’s wearing all of his guns and try to sneak a peek under his suit jacket at his waist. You’re not paying attention so you run smack into his back when he stops for the elevator. 

Yep, he’s wearing one gun because you feel it hit your stomach. He looks at you oddly and reaches a hand out to steady you.

“Do you always carry a gun when you go places?”

“Usually.”

“Do you ever have to use it?”

“Sometimes.”

The elevator ride down is quiet and you wave to Francis walking by in the hallway. John nods towards him too, like they have some sort of secret understanding. 

His car is glistening in the sun and you have to admit, it is a pretty sweet ride. John opens the door for you after he throws his bag in the trunk and you move carefully, afraid you might scratch the paint job. You fold yourself neatly in the seat and stay still. 

He smoothly gets in and before you can process about how annoyingly attractive he is, the engine roars to life and he’s speeding out of your complex onto the main road. You have a hard time not watching his hands because his fingers are long and look good around the steering wheel. He drives fast but not enough to make you nervous and glances at you a few times to make sure you’re okay. You don’t say much but it’s a comfortable silence with the windows down. You watch the town go by as you start to relax. 

It’s only about a ten minute drive until the car pulls up to the most gorgeous house you’ve ever seen. Of course, this is where John would live. In a house built with huge windows and high ceilings, with a big open yard that’s perfectly manicured. 

He parks in the driveway but still pushes a button so the garage door goes up. 

“C’mon, I’ll only be a minute.” He tells you and curiosity gets the best of you because you had planned to stay in the car. 

���Are you sure? I can wait here.”

“Why?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, obvious that he thinks your question was dumb, and he moves around to open your door again. 

“Such a gentleman.” You praise, not being able to help yourself. You can’t remember the last time anyone opened anything for you.

He smiles and leads the way into the house. “Well, I try.”

“This is really pretty.” You tell him, stepping into a long hallway where you can see the living room off to one side and the kitchen off to the other. 

“You want the tour?” He asks, throwing his keys into a glass bowl and taking his suit jacket off. There are actually two guns on his belt, the one on his right hip you hadn’t seen. 

“No, it’s okay. Just seeing the downstairs is enough to make me depressed about my small apartment.”

John scoffs and opens the front door to let in some air. “I like your place. It’s comfortable there. And the cooking’s really good.”

You laugh and he steers you more into the kitchen, which is huge with a tile floor and what looks like all new appliances. “I’d love to cook in this kitchen. There’s so much room!”

“Yeah?” He stops and looks at you very seriously. “You officially have an open invitation to cook here any time.”

“Ha ha.” You push at his shoulder and walk to the big wood dining table, looking around. There are a bunch of picture frames, but they’re all in a pile on a shelf by the coffee maker. You wonder what kind of pictures he has and why they aren’t on display. You don’t want to be nosy though, so you run your finger over the espresso machine that looks like it cost more than a month of pay. “Marry me?” You bend over and ask it, breathing in deeply the scents of coffee. 

John laughs and points at a smaller hallway. “Laundry is through there.” He points at a door. “Basement.” He walks through the kitchen and into the living room, which is sparse but still lovely. You wonder if he decorated this place himself or if he had help. 

“Evening entertainment.” He points to the TV even though you see a stack of heavy books on the coffee table, some of them well read. “Upstairs?” He asks, starting for the staircase. You shrug, trying not to seem eager and interested. 

The amount of sunlight the house gets is incredible. There are windows everywhere, but you can’t see any neighbors and it’s fairly quiet. This is like your dream house. 

“Wow.” It’s all you can say when you enter the master bedroom. A huge bed in the middle that looks so very soft. There’s a sitting couch and table, with a bureau next to the walk in closet. The view is fantastic and you can even see the lake from here. You walk to the other side of his bedroom and almost press your face against the glass. “You live right across from the community college campus! That’s so cool!” 

John is in his closet, probably getting new clothes for the day, but you can hear him say, “Yeah?”

“Yeah! You could walk there if you wanted to! Save a ton on parking.” You mutter, more to yourself. 

Suddenly he’s right behind you, now in a white cotton shirt with long sleeves. “What do you mean?”

“I applied to go to school in the fall. I want to take some classes, maybe try for a degree or something. My place is far, so it’ll be a hassle but that’s okay.” You tug on the hem of his shirt as you walk by him, throwing your purse on the bed. “What else is up here?” You ask, peering down another long hallway.

He has a proud look in his eyes and he’s still gapping at you a little. “I didn’t know you’re going back to school.”

“Oh, something you finally didn’t know, I can’t believe it.”

“Well, I saw the application on your kitchen table but I didn’t want to assume.”

You laugh because of course he did. “Were you snooping, John Wick?”

“Never. I just observe.”

“Oh, I see.”

He opens the door to an empty bedroom with no furniture. “This was supposed to be a guest room but I never got around to it.”

“What about that room?” You point to the door at the end of the hallway. 

“My office.”

“Ooh. Do you have assassin secrets in there?” You smile teasingly and walk back to his bedroom to get your purse. 

“No, those are in the basement.”

Laughing, you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. You don’t think he is. 

The windows are calling again and you can’t help but to take one more look of the view. “This is just so nice. You have everything in walking distance. The lake, the school…”

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “You should move in here.”

That makes you throw your head back and really laugh. How funny. “John, don’t be stupid.”

“How is that stupid?” He asks, his tone is serious but kind. “There’s an empty room. You can walk to school. You can watch the dog for me when I go on… work trips. You would have a kitchen to cook in.”

This man seems to keep surprising you. “You’ve only known me for like a month. What if I smell bad or something?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You smell amazing.”

“What if I play loud music really late at night?”

“You can’t keep your eyes open past ten.”

“What if I have parties all weekend long?”

“While you work and go to school? Be my guest.”

“What if I’m messy and leave my clothes everywhere?”

John’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Did you just pretend to be neat while I was at your place for two days?”

He’s right, you do like a clean house. “Whatever, John.” Hoping that he drops it. “Don’t you have to get the dog?”

“Damn, stay here. I’ll be right back. Their house is just down the street.” He runs down the stairs and you can hear the screen door open and shut. 

You look around the bedroom again and take it all in. What a completely different life this would be. Not that you don’t like your apartment. It’s cozy and you’re proud of what you’ve established for yourself. This is too fancy for you anyway. Plus, you like having your space. John would be the weirdest roommate ever. You can’t even imagine. 

You jog down the stairs to wait on the couch. You spot some more picture frames stacked nicely in a pile and you’re just about to sneak a look when you can hear them approach the house.

“Puppy kisses!” You cry out and kneel down to gather a happy dog in your arms. If you had any idea this was the dog driving you mad all those nights, you would have taken him for yourself. 

“Pooch! Get down.” John’s Alpha voice is hot and both you and the dog stop everything. 

He trots over to his doggy bed anyways and plops down. “Cassey, the little girl, wore him out at the park this morning.” John says. “Are you ready to go?”

The movie! You had almost forgotten with all the excitement of being in John’s house.

“Yeah, let’s do it. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Don’t get scared.” You tell him, in a bravado voice. 

“Can we get gummy bears?” He asks and you crack up on the way back to the garage. 

“You’re a grown man, you can get whatever you want.”

John hurries to open the car door for you again. “I meant, would you have any or would you like something else?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, that’s a big decision.” You slide back into the car and think to yourself that you could really get used to the chivalry John is showing. You wonder how long it could last. “I think I have to see all my options.”

John smiles as he starts the car and lowers the garage door. “This is really serious.”

You fasten your seatbelt and get comfortable. “When’s the last time you went to a movie?”

He turns his head to back out of the driveway, putting his arm around your seat. His face is very close to yours and you notice that his eyes are a very pretty brown when he’s not working. 

“Good point.”

You grin, breaking the eye contact because it’s making your stomach fill with butterflies that you mentally quiet down. 

The theater is busy and you realize it’s a Friday during summer, so all the teenagers are here. John’s phone rings as he parks and tells you he has to take it, so you decide to get in line and buy the tickets. He’s leaning against his car, chatting while looking around at his surroundings and smiles at you when he catches you checking on him. 

You quickly see that the movie is sold out and not knowing what to do, you walk back to John and the car just as he’s finishing his conversation. It sounds like he was speaking in Russian, but you can’t be sure. “All set?” He asks, sliding the phone in his pocket and reaching to put his hand on your back. He hardly ever really touches you, but his hand hovers over your body constantly. 

“It’s sold out.” You tell him. “Do you want to see something else or maybe come back another day?”

“Oh.” He looks disappointed. “But you really wanted to see that movie.”

“It’s okay, shit happens, right?” You shrug it off easily. This is not the worst thing that could happen. Plus, you’re hanging out with John, so you could be going to the town dump and you’d be happy.

“Hold on. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He takes off towards the theater and leaves you by the car. You watch him go and it’s almost like he’s in slow motion again. You wonder how just his stride oozes that much confidence. 

In a few minutes he’s back with two tickets. “Here we go. C’mon.”

“How’d you do that?” You dumbly follow him to the theater doors and he guides you to walk in front of him.

“It’s a secret. What do you want?”

You’re still staring at him in a silent awe as he looks at the refreshment stand. A beautiful young worker comes to help and John’s gaze is just on you.

“Um… gummy bears? Right?” You ask him, trying to snap out of it. “That’s what you wanted?”

He leans in close, dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m asking what you want.”

You don’t really remember what the hell you say, but somehow John pays and leads you down a long hallway and to your seats. Now he’s really close to you and the smell of his cologne is making your legs weak. 

“You okay?”

“Yes!” It comes out too fast but you realize you’re acting weird and need to get with it. 

John nods and crosses his long legs, sitting back in the chair and shifting towards you, whispering as advertisements play on the big screen. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Do friends hold hands at the movies?”

You close your eyes. “No, John. They do not.”

“Not even when I scored tickets that were sold out?”

You lean in to him and smile. “If you tell me how you did that, I might reconsider the answer to your question.”

“Hmm…” He runs fingers over his beard as he thinks. “I talked to the manager.”

“And?”

“And I paid him.”

“John!”

“What? You wanted to know, so I told you.”

You shake your head in disbelief as the lights lower and the movie starts. “You’re crazy.”

He doesn’t disagree with you, but he does turn towards the screen, still touching your elbow throughout most of the first half of the movie. When it gets really creepy, he covers his mouth every time you jump in your seat, hiding his smile. 

You somehow get closer to his shoulder, shielding your eyes and turning into his body when you jump again, grabbing onto his arm. The muscles you feel are solid, and you technically knew they were there, you just never really considered them before. And you are definitely considering them now. 

John lets you hold on to him, and even offers to hold your hand when the movie winds down and you link his pinky with yours, not wanting to totally turn him down. He seems satisfied with that and smoothes his thumb down your hand a few times before the credits roll.

“That was so good!” You exclaim, getting up from your seat and stretching. “I forgot how fun the movies are!”

“You were scared.” John teases, playfully shaking your hand with his. 

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Whatever, you were scared too.” You tell him, pushing the heavy doors open and heading to his car. The sky is darker now and the wind has picked up, chilling your arms. You wish you had brought a sweater.

“I was definitely not scared.” John laughs, his hand hovering over your back again. You feel it because you stop for a car and his arm is suddenly pressed into your waist. He moves quickly though, opening the door for you to get inside. 

He turns on the heat as soon as he can and asks where you want to eat. 

“It’s up to you. I could go for anything.”

“Sushi?”

That surprises you and you can’t help but look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t know John Wick likes sushi. I see you more of an all meat kinda guy.”

“I have a very sophisticated pallet.”

“Oh, my mistake.” You laugh and tell him to lead the way. 

He takes you to a really nice place and you talk about the movie and the food all throughout dinner. It’s nice, not forced, and fun. These past two days, even with the weird circumstances, have been really fun. You want to pay for the dinner, but of course John beats you to it without you even realizing until it’s far too late. You glare at him and tell him that friends usually split the check. He apologizes with a sparkle in his eye and you know he’s not sorry at all.

When John pulls up to your apartment you thank him for such a great day. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to be scared?” He asks, after telling you he had fun today too.

“Yes, John.”

“I could spend the night again, just to make sure.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. And you have to get back to Pooch.”

“You could spend the night at my place.” John offers, completely innocent but realizes what he says and adds, “I could take the couch, of course.”

“Good bye, John.” You tell him and he wants you to let him know if you need anything, or if you hear from Max. “I will.” Waving, you open the car door before he can get out and do it for you. The walk up to your apartment is quiet and just a little lonely. 

Once you get inside it’s worse, but you try to ignore it. Instead, you lay in bed where John had slept and cuddle the pillows. 

He texts you once he’s home, to make sure you made it to the apartment okay.

You didn’t let me walk you upstairs, he texts with a sad face.

Instead of telling him that you’re a grown up or you don’t need his protection, you simply text back next time. 

You really hope there’s a next time.

TBC Chapter 3

[ray935sworld]

VR's academy of supernatural riders (Part 2: Pizzas and families)

Summary: Insight to the way Luca experienced the divorce and how the academy boys and the Marquez family think about the Lucalex relationship

The thought of Marc in connection with Luca used to peak the anxiety of the young Spaniard. He was actually terrified to be honest.

To be clear, Alex loved his older brother. He was his idol, the one he looked up to, the one that was always around him when he grew up. Where Alex was, Marc wasn’t far and when you saw Marc, it was only a matter of time until another set of brown eyes appeared. That's how it always was and he couldn't imagine it anyoother way.

So he wanted his brother and his boyfriend to get along, considering that they are the two most important people in his life. The base that said boyfriend was close, even blood related, to Rossi wasn’t exactly perfect. Therefore he was even more released that Marc took their relationship quite easy.

Whenever he had thought about telling him, he assumed Marc would get angry. But all it took was that one evening of sharing Pizza, laughter and childhood stories.

Marc had the opportunity to get to know Luca as a person, not as a rider. He saw how he interacted with Alex and that was enough to earn his approval. He learned that the Italian loved Alex the way he wanted his brother to be loved. Alex had ordered a pizza tropical, like always and Marc was sure the two of them already had a pizza date. Nonetheless Luca asked whether he planned to kill him while putting his hand over his chest. He smiled saying it'd hurt, as if he had a heart attack, leaving the young Marquez giggling. He knew Luca was being serious with his brother when he tried a piece of his pizza, with pineapple and thanked him before giving him some of his salami one.

Part of Alex love langue was sharing food. Marc knew that first hand. Growing up, he probably had a bite of everything Alex ever eat, even if he had the same. But it made the little one grin, just like now, satisfied when they said they liked it and thanked him. Luca seemed to know that and reacted accordingly even with food he'd normally dismiss. That an Italian eat the illegal, worst of sins pizza for his lover was the ultimate prove of love. At least in his book.

A few months later, Luca invited both of them to his place in Rome, far away from Rossi. He claimed he wanted them to have, what he called 'real' pizza. Franky, Pecco and Bez were there as well. He wanted to introduce his love to his own family, his world, the way he grew up and what the people around him were like, besides being riders.

He had gotten the permission of both Marquez, wanting to make them feel comfortable as a prove he respected them.

And they took it serious. This was about Luca, their Maro. And hell, they loved him like he was their own brother. They all belong together. They couldn’t imagine a future in which he wasn’t part of their life and if that includes Marc Marquez from time to time cause he was emotionally attached to Luca’s boyfriend’s hips, then they could get over everything that happened. Luca was too important.

They agreed to just be a normal couple. Who cared that Luca was the brother of the man whose conspiracy theories almost ended both Marquez brother’s career? They were dating as people, not just as riders. They loved each other for each other, not to start drama or get twisted ideas. And as a normal couple, this included the same special experiences a normal couple shared, like meeting the family.

Well, not Luca’s biological family. He couldn’t tell his brother about his relationship. Yet. He planned to slowly drop hint to him and start talking about Alex so he could get used to the idea. In consequences, he couldn’t tell his mother. She would be worried about the relationship between her sons and just straight up tell the oldest, hoping to help. And his father would scold him and explain the emotional guilt he was building up. He loved them but he didn’t want that. But he wanted Alex to know those he considered his family. So he chose the academy boys. He chose the boys he grew up with. He chose his found family.

Luca wanted to show Alex what he showed him when the Italian was in Cervera. When they visited Spain, Alex took Luca’s shaking hand when he parked in his parents driveway. He was nervous, more nervous than before any race. Afterall he could calculate the events in a race. He could prepare himself. This was pure chaos. This was hoping not to get kicked out immediately. He thought about uncomfortable silence until he awkwardly made up an excuse to leave early. He even got Franky to promise him, he'd made up an emergency why he had to return.

He considered the possibility of Alex being openly yelled at for betraying Marc or him being whisper-yelled at in the kitchen while he pretended not to hear. Alex knew that without having to be told.

He just smiled at Luca before leaving the car to see his mother, who was already waiting behind the door of his childhood home. She opened the door and ran towards her youngest son to hug him. Luca followed more reluctant. He waited a few seconds, until Julia got the chance to greet his son as well. He didn’t want to destroy the moment of reunion, but Alex had already turned around.

“Mama, Papa, I’m sure you already know my boyfriend, Luca” He gave a shy smile and raised his hand. “Buenos días” he said, but before he could continue, he found himself being pressed against Roser. She hugged him and he was so shocked, it took Alex’s encouraging smile and Julia's nod of approval to return it. “I’m so happy to see you again, boy” she whispered, smiling while letting him go. But her hands stayed at his elbows to keep him close. It gave him a sense of security. “You’ve grown a lot Luca. I’m glad Alex found you again”

It was true. Due to the relationship between their brothers the families got to know each other. They had spent their birthday in 2014 together, both family were in Italy at the ranch so the Marquez parents already knew Luca.

Back then, he was just a 16 year old kid, sitting on the floor of the living room, his back against the couch, playing on his brothers PlayStation. Alex sat next to him. He was still 17, just 2 more month until he was an adult and Luca used to feel younger just by thinking about that fact. Somehow the same age gap felt larger when they teenagers. Luca remembered looking at the older one, a little bit in awe. He remembered being fascinated by the way the Moto3 rider explained racing to others and how he acted in general. Luca knew a lot of riders - Vale, Lorenzo, Pedrosa, Simoncelli, Hayden and so many more that he met early cause his brother dragged him around in the paddock when their mom allowed him to be at some races - but none seemed to be like him and that made him curios.

He wanted to get to know him more, know and understand every detail about it and then - then what? Then he would just adore him the way he did. Back then, he told himself he just got along with Alex. He convinced himself he was like an older brother and he enjoyed spending time together. Similar to his relationship to Marc, just way, way, way stronger. He excused his feeling to himself that it was natural that they enjoyed each other’s company. Alex would be his brother in law one day.

Maybe.

Probably.

At least the two of them thought that it would end like this.

Marc did too. Their parents did too.

Vale did too.

But now he saw thing different. He wasn’t 16 anymore and he wasn’t as delusional as he was. He remembered smiles that felt a little too long and pure to just be friendly. The hugs they shared felt more like they were pressing themselves closer to the other. At the same time, they seemed to use every chance for physical touch but blushed and apologized while brushing their hands together. Luca assumed it could be the first sign of being in love with a boy. Or he just imagined it. So he asked the only person that maybe could relate.

Alex laughed about that conspiracy theory. He had just said “To be honest, I had a crush on you back then already, but I met you when you were 14 or 15 and didn’t want it to be weird. Especially cause our brothers were always on each other.” Luca smiled.

‘It’s kind of a role switch. Now we are always on each other’ Luca thought while sitting on Alex legs, facing him, his hands intervened behind Alex neck. “Were you afraid of spending Christmas with the boy that rejected you?” he teased and slowly leaning forward. “Yes!”

And as he reward he got a kiss. They joked about the irony and Luca was glad he got over his stupid thinking. For him, it took some time to realize he wasn’t just interested in girls. At first, he tried to deny it. He didn’t want to have another thing in common with his bisexual motorbike riding brother who was in love with a Marquez brother (nothing against Alex). Then he grew up and realized how messed up this way of thinking was. Just because someone else did the same thing, didn’t mean it meant less when he did it. He would never not be himself just because of his brother.

But the inevitable fallout was about to happen. He brushed away the first signs. The way his brother started to stop looking for Marc, how he rejected his calls and didn't immediately reply to his messages. But it became clear at the end of 2014, when Luca assumed the two families would spent Christmas together.

He had asked his brother when the Marquez would arrive, excited to see Alex reaction to the gift he bought him. Vale denied it, just saying he decided to spent Christmas with the academy and the families because it was better. They’d be closer. He was 17 back then and maybe he didn’t understand everything, but he knew that that was bullshit. But Vale wouldn’t tell him what was going on. Therefore he did the only reasonable thing he could do.

He decided to annoy the oldest academy rider. He sneaked in Franky’s room at the ranch, flopping on his bed, while the 20 year old smiled at him from his desk, taking a welcomed break from reviewing data.

“Do you know what happened between them?” Luca asked Franky. He felt no need to specify who he was talking about. “They were always on each other. I thought they had swallowed magnets as close as they were getting” The half Brazilian laughed about that theory but nodded. “It seemed like that, honestly” “So what he happened” He looked at Luca for a few seconds, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard Uccio and Vale talking once… They said he’d be dangerous for us” “What it that supposed to mean?” “I don’t know… When I asked all he said was that I shouldn’t worry, no one would discover us. He promised to protect us and he would do anything to ensure our safety.”

“Wait is this about being non-humans?” Surprised he sat up. That would be a turn of events. He felt his hairs stand up on his arms, trying to remember the last time he met the Marquez, wondering if he had acted different and he didn’t notice.

“Does Marc know? Did he-” his voice peaked with anxiety. “No, I don’t think so. Marc asked me what was going on with Vale as well. He has no idea either” Luca sighed heavily. That killed his theory. ‘And he would have warned us more openly’ his brain submitted.

“But then how is Marc supposed to be dangerous? He’s one of the sweetest person ever!” “I know. I think something went wrong.” “But what?” “I don’t know… Marc crashed a lot with other riders, this year” “What? Why would that suddenly be a reason?” “No idea, Maro! He’s your brother. You-“ “Don’t ‘he’s your brother’ me! That doesn’t mean I know what’s going on in his head” “I meant he’s more likely to listen to you” “Oh… Right”

But he didn’t. He just ruffled his hair saying he’d take care of everything and he shouldn’t worry.

After that Vale changed. He was still the man the boys knew when it came to them, but they saw him being cruel, ruthless and heard him talk in a way he never did before. Sure, he wasn’t always the nicest but over the next years, thing took a turn.

He openly tried to manipulate Marc and break his confidence. He was trying to bully him out the sport so it seemed and their relationship soon started to become none existing. It got so bad, Luca questioned whether the two ever dated. He couldn't imagine his brother being as cruel as he was now to someone he used to love so much. Maybe it was just a fever dream, so he asked Vale.

“You’re not old enough to know the truth. Just believe me when I say that having him around is a risk. Not just for us, but for all riders on track” When it only got worst and the public accusation and the spiteful comments started, Luca thought it was fake.

He was desperate to find a reason but he failed. He asked Pecco if he had an idea but even after reviewing some old books from his grandmother only he could read, they didn’t had an answer.

When he met a 17 year old shape shifter he asked if he ever changed into a rider to create chaos. Marco Bezzecci, for the first time at the ranch, had stared at him for a few seconds then laughed nervously. “No, of course not. I don’t use my ability in public”

The older Luca could back that up, but at that time it seemed the only reasonable explanation. He even tested his brother to make sure he wasn’t kidnapped and swapped for some kind of double or fake Vale planning to ruin his life, but he wasn’t. Apparently he was great at doing that himself.

He searched for the logic in the unrationed action. He didn’t understand why he was watching his brother destroy the person he loved the most. It didn't add up with the picture he had of him. He tried talking to him every once in a while, but kept failing. The answer always stayed the same.

“Luca, please. I know you don’t understand but Marc is dangerous. I just don’t want to lose any of you in the future because of his reckless action.” “But you love him! You still love him. I’m sure, if you apologize and talk to him-!” “No. I don’t love him. I don’t want him around. I know you just want to help, but stop. There is no going back.” “But it doesn’t make sense” “You’ll have to grow up a little bit to make sense of it”

But it never made sense, not even after giving up and years of coldness between the former lovers, Luca joining MotoGP, battling Marc himself and his brother’s retirement. He just watched the older Italian and his friends annoy a man that got used to their words.

Bez never saw the two in love. He had never see them interact when Vale hadn’t yet decided that the anxiety that Marc’s success could destroy what he built as his legacy was a good foundation of hate. He hadn’t see the love so he actually believed the way the older talked about the Spaniard. Luca wasn’t surprised he bought it, like the whole world did.

Migno, Pecco and Franky didn’t buy it, not for a moment but they knew if they spoke up, it would just get worst. They knew the love they shared and having the younger Marquez as a former teammate and shortly meeting Marc, they knew about the difference in reality and narrative.

Telling them about the relationship was the right decision. Marco was hesitant but he always was when it came to other people. Pecco and Franky were fine with it the moment they heard about it.

It was a fun day when they met up. Luca and Pecco were in the kitchen, trying to teach the Spaniards how to make pizza while they seem to continuedly mess it up. It ended in jokes and unserious insult in their native language. Bez and Franky fought about the music, stole some of the toppings and finally had mercy with the Spaniards by pulling them away from the two wanna-be-chefs.

The night was filled with laughter, sarcastic yelling and ended in a sleep over and way too many embarrassing photos of Alex cuddled against a dumbly smiling Luca.

[nosakaya]

❃.✮:▹ ◃:✮.❃

There was an idea so I decided to write this.

This shot is so sad a little sad

❃.✮:▹ ◃:✮.❃

Laito Sakamaki x yui komori [ sad ]

Eng - English

Yui, I ran through the mansion as hard as I could. She could hear laito laughing, mocking her, yet she tried so many times but could not escape even once. It was like a game of hide and seek.    In which she was a loser from the very beginning.

She reached the door, it was locked. As it always was. Why had she deluded herself that this time it would be different?

Was she hoping to escape for once?    That was impossible. And yet she tried, yet

"hope is a foolish thing" she knew from laito kuna, but she didn't want to think about it.

She, she believed she had a sannyasis to escape

- Where's my sweet baby doll? - I heard right next to her ear.

Which made her scared, and her heart thudded loudly.

" Boom, boom, boom, boom "

- you've already given up he said looking at the exhausted yui

- After that, he put his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

- Your fear is so sweet - he whispered in her ear with a sadistic smile after a while he bent into her thigh yui, she wanted to push him away but couldn't. He was too strong, no matter how many times she tried.

- laito kun stop - I said with mixed hope that this will end soon.

Laito, just giggled at those words biting even more.

" More... Pain... "

- I will grant your wish, and Dan will give you more pain. - He said while approaching yui placing a bloody kiss on her lips.

After all, for laito such things are worthless the word love is like saying "good morning".

That's what he understood when he was young.

He believed that love is nothing but the touch of bodies, nothing else.

He didn't see how he hurt the people he treated that way. Maybe because he didn't understand it at all?

The pleading expression on his face about the pain only got him started.

- Ah, bitch - chan are you trying to tempt me? - he giggled enjoying this

- What? Not her. I beg you let me go laito - she begged.

But, she was trapped she fell into his spons and had no way out she was without a way out.    Like in a cage.

- You're tempting me even more today, maybe it's the full moon?

Yui's gaze widened in fear of the pervert.

"Help... "

She wanted someone to help her, she didn't like laito when he got to her.

"Today was a full "

The vampire pawed at her neck, drinking her blood greedily.

"She was, a human! And not a toy for vampires! " why didn't either of them understand that?

"People are not toys." 

These vampires, however, thought otherwise, for them they were like toys that they could throw away when they got bored. But they didn't understand that.

- You know, bitch chan I love you," said yui, but she knew that it was not at all true of laito always, he said. Those words from his words were "bitter, tasteless. " without emotion.

Yui, she wanted to hear from laito, the real, the word "I love you" she didn't want his fake, feeling like everything around her now was fake. It was a fashada.

"These are just empty words from laito " these thoughts were in her mind.

"He'll never love anyone anyway..."

- It's just empty," said the blonde haired

"People are not toys." 

These vampires, however, thought otherwise, for them they were like toys that they could throw away when they got bored. But they didn't understand that.

- You know, bitch chan I love you," said yui, but she knew that it was not at all true of laito always, he said. Those words from his words were "bitter, tasteless. " without emotion.

Yui, she wanted to hear from laito, the real, the word "I love you" she didn't want his fake, feeling like everything around her now was fake. It was a fashada.

"These are just empty words from laito " these thoughts were in her mind.

"He'll never love anyone anyway..."

- It's just empty," said the blonde haired

- you break my heart he giggled - he said to her

"In the end, I know they're just words and not true... "

was love empty? Like words?    Which he gave to the laito girls to make them happy, after all, people unmanly, he wanted love. But, after all, there was nothing wrong with it.

laito, he only liked the connection, the bodies. That's all he wanted, nothing else, after all, "nothing else matters. "

- Say, bitch - chan you still want to escape from here? - asked laito .

- yes, my father will come back for me someday. - She replied with hope, making laito want to mock her.

People, they are such pathetic creatures persisting in believing that they can make it and there they really can't make it.

Laito laughed at that answer.

- If he had, he would have done it long ago," he replied.

Her eyes showed surprise. That could not be true.

Laito was manipulating her like a toy that you could set up whenever you wanted.

She had no escape from his manipulation. He was good at it, at manipulating people. After all, people were so naive to him.

Yui longed to escape laito from her own feelings for laito. But she couldn't, there was no escape. In the end, she never had one.

❃.✮:▹　◃:✮.❃

Był pomysł więc postanowiłam to napisać.

Ten shot jest takie sad trochę smutny

❃.✮:▹　◃:✮.❃

Pl - polish

Laito Sakamaki z yui komori [ sad ]

Yui, uciekałam przez rezydencji ile sił w nogach. Słyszała śmiech, laito który drwił z niej, mimo wszystko próbowała tyle razy ale ani razu nie mogła uciec. To było jak gra w hide and seek.  W której, od samego początku była przegraną.

Dobiegła do drzwi, były zamknięte. Jak zawsze. Czemu się łudziła że tą razą będzie innaczej?

Miała nadzieję, że uda jej się choć raz uciec?  To równało się niemożliwe. A jednak próbowała, jednak

" nadzieja to coś głupie " wiedziała to od laito kuna lecz nie chciała o tym myśleć.

Ona, wierzyła że ma sansze na ucieczkę

- Gdzie jest moja słodka laleczka? - usłyszałam tuż obok ucha.

Przez co się przestraszyła, i jej serce zadudniło głośno.

" Bum, bum, bum, bum "

- podałaś się już powiedział patrząc, na wyczerpaną yui

- po tym, obejmując ją w tali, przyszuwając do siebie.

- Twój strach jest taki słodki - wyszeptał jej do ucha z sadystycznym uśmiechem  po chwili wygryzł się w jej udo yui, chciała do odepchnąć ale nie mogła. Był zbyt silny, nie ważne ile razy próbowała.

- laito kun przestań - powiedziałam z mieszaną nadzieją że to się wkrótce się skończy.

Laito, tylko zachichotał na te słowa gryząc jeszcze bardziej.

" więcej.. Bólu... "

- spełnię twoje życzenie, i Dan ci więcej bólu. - Powiedział zbliżając się do yui składając na jej ustach krwawy pocałunek.

Wkońcu dla laito takie rzeczy są nic nie warte słowa kocham jest jak powiedzenie "dzień dobry "

To zrozumiał będąc jeszcze mały.

Wierzył że miłość to nic innego jak dotyk ciał, nic innego.

Nie widział jak ranił osoby które tak traktował. Może dlatego że dokończa tego nie rozumiał?

Błagajacy wyraz twarzy o bólu tylko go zaczęł.

- Ah, bitch - chan próbujesz mnie kusić? - zachichotał cieszą się tym

- Co ją nie. Błagam puść mnie laito - błagała.

Ale, była w pułapce wpadła w jego spony i nie miała już wyjścia była bez wyjścia.  Niczym w klatce.

- jakoś kusisz,  mnie jeszcze bardziej dziś mozemoże to wina pełni?~~ - oznajmił

Wzrok yui rozszerzył się że strachu przed zboczeńcem.

"Pomocy.. "

Chciała żeby ktoś jej pomógł, nie lubiła laito kiedy się do niej dobierał.

"Dziś była pełnią "

Wampir wbił się w jej szyję łapczywa, pijąc jej krew zachlanie.

"Była, człowiekiem! A nie zabawką dla wampirów! " czemu żaden z nich tego nie rozumiał?

"Ludzie to nie zabawki ". 

Jednak te wampiry, uważali innaczej dla nich byli jak zabawki, które mogli wyrzucić kiedy im się znudzą. Ale oni tego nie rozumieli.

- Wiesz, bitch chan kocham cie - powiedział yui jednak wiedziała ze to nie było w ogóle prawdziwe laito zawsze, to mówił. Te słowa z jego słów były "gorzkie, bez smaku. " bez emocji.

Yui, pragnęła usłyszeć od laito, prawdziwe, słowo "kocham cie " nie chciała tego jego fałszu, uczuć zupełnie jakby wszystko co ją teraz otaczo było fałszywe. Było faszadą.

"To tylko puste słowa od laito " te myślisz były w jej umyśle.

"On i tak nigdy nikogo nie pokocha "...

- To tylko puste - rzekła blond włosa

- łamiesz moje serce zachichotał -  powiedział do niej

" wkońcu wiem, że to tylko słowa i nie są prawdziwie.. "

czy miłość była pusta? Niczym słowa?  Które dawał laito dziewczynom by były zadowolone, wkońcu ludzie bezpansko, pragnął miłości. Ale, przecież nie było w tym nic złego.

"Laito, lubił tylko połonczenie, ciał. Tylko tego pragnął, nic więcej wkońcu nic się nie liczy " nic więcej. "

- Powiedz, bitch - chan  nadal stąd chcesz uciec? - zapytał laito .

- tak, mój ojciec kiedyś po mnie wróci. - odparła z nadzieją, przez co laito chciał zadrwic z niej.

Ludzie, to takie żałosne istoty uporczywie wierząc że dadzą radę a tam naprawdę nie dadzą rady.

Laito zaśmiał się na tą odpowiedz.

- Gdyby, miał już dawno by to zrobił - odpowiedział.

Jej oczy pokazywały zdziwienie. To nie mogła być prawda.Nie mogła.

Laito, nią manipulował niczym zabawką którą można ustawić kiedy się chcę.

Nie miała od tego ucieczki od jego manipulacji. Był dobry w tym, w manipulacji ludźmi. Wkońcu ludzie byli tak naiwni dla niego.

Yui pragnęła uciec od laito od własnych uczuć do laito. Ale nie umiała, nie było ucieczki. Wkońcu nigdy jej nie miała.