#Marcus Moreno x female read

[wardenparker]

What Happens in Vegas, part 1

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 8k   Warnings: Mentions of partner death and divorce, smatterings of imagery of drunk sex. Technically most of this could be considered dubcon for drunkenness.  Summary: A high school reunion in Las Vegas sounds great right? A fun, adult way to catch up with old friends and have a great party in the process. But everything goes a little sideways when you wake up the next morning in bed with someone unexpected. Notes: Part one of two! Marcus Moreno was absolutely a drama geek in high school and I will not be taking criticism.

Your eyes shoot open, and you sit straight up in bed. A mistake if there ever was one. Pain starbursts behind your eyes and you immediately pinch them shut again with a hiss. Shuffling slightly to cradle your pounding head, you moan as you hunch over. Not remembering much past the night before and having no clue on how you ended up in a bed. There's a grunt beside you, making your eyes shoot open again, but this time you don't try to resist the pain. You had definitely not come to your reunion with someone, so the idea of someone else in your bed is terrifying at best. One-night stands and being surprised by your bedmate the next morning had died in college during your walk of shame days. He's turned towards you, eyes closed, and face relaxed in sleep. One that you would have known anywhere, even if you hadn't tried keeping up with him through the years. You realize your own nakedness when you see his bare chest, gasping and yanking the sheets up over your breasts.

You’re in bed with your high school sweetheart, Marcus Moreno.

That place between sleep and awake is Marcus's favourite. It holds no worries and beautified reality, making touches feel like floating and sounds muffle as though they were coming through a wall of fluffy blankets. There is warmth beside him and beating down from his other side, vaguely registering in his sleepy mind as warm morning sun. He would have wafted through this half-feeling until he fell back to sleep, but he felt a jolt beside him and heard a yelping sound. Those were definitely not things from his dreams. Nor was the instant pounding that took over his head, making the previously comfortable sun feel like a jackhammer instead.

Marcus groans, rubbing his eyes as he gropes around for his glasses and slowly starts to string thoughts together: a bed, with someone else in it, in the morning, and he definitely has a hangover. He groans again, pained this time, and wonders what the hell he had gotten himself into. Vegas is a hell of a place to wake up with someone he doesn't know, and he briefly wonders if he had done something stupid last night. Once his glasses are shoved on his face and he can unglue his eyelids, he forces himself to look over.

Oh shit. It’s you. His high school sweetheart. What the hell happened last night??

"Mar– Marcus?" You stammer, your eyes widening, and you do an internal assessment of your body. Oh, you had definitely had sex. The ache between your legs is one that you hadn't experienced in a while but is consistent with a very vigorous night. You pull your hands down from your head and twist to look at him, hating that you don't remember what the hell had happened. The last thing you remembered was the slideshow at the event center. Nostalgia rampant and the bar open, while the graduating class went through the Most Like To list.  Seeing everyone and sharing drinks had apparently caught up with you. "What happened?"

It's not until he sees you gripping the sheets to your body that he looks down – and realizes he's completely naked. Letting out a yelp of his own, Marcus pulls the comforter around him and then immediately cradles his aching head. The more conscious he gets, the worse it hurts. "Um..." Think, Moreno, think! But thinking hurts so much. "I'm not sure." He confesses. "I mean...we, uh..." his eyes are wide, looking between the two of you with embarrassed guilt. His core and thighs burn a little, and there is a faint taste of something tangy in his mouth along with stale beer. "I think we..." He sighs. "We definitely had sex..."

You hate how his sleep rough voice affects you. Low and gravely, it makes your core clench, and you feel the remnants of that observation between your thighs, sticky and thick. "Yeah, uh – I agree with that." You shouldn't be this embarrassed by that fact. It wasn't like you hadn't had sex with Marcus before. Hell, he was the first person you had sex with in your life. Sixteen and thinking you were going to be with him forever. "I–" Something catches your eye when you go to rub your head again, making you stop and flip your hand over, staring in horror at your left hand. A ring sitting on your ring finger, something that definitely wasn't there before this morning. "Did we– did we get married?" You manage.

"No!" Marcus is absolutely sure that that couldn't have happened, but his throat runs dry all the same. Slowly, he lifts up his own left hand where a shiny gold ring of his own gleams in the sun. "Or...maybe yes?" He tries not to focus on how good you look. Hair mussed and eyes a little droopy from having just woken up. He hasn't seen you like this in almost twenty years. Goddamn you look good. "I'm sorry," his face contorts in embarrassment. "I honestly don't remember much. Just the slide show at the reunion and then...nothing."

"Oh my God." You tug the sheets off of the bed, barely letting Marcus keep himself decent while you jump up. "No, there's no way. I mean, we just–" You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to freak out. "It's got to be some kind of joke." You remember Susan Combs, now Susan Ramey, talking about how the two of you were single, that you should rekindle the spark. Your eyes meeting Marcus's embarrassed gaze as the two of you stood awkwardly between her. "It's a joke." You tell him firmly, trying to convince yourself of it more than anything. How do you marry someone you haven't seen in nineteen years since he broke up with you when he met the woman he would marry his freshman year in college?

"Definitely." Marcus agrees. It had to be a joke. The thing that definitely wasn't a joke was the strong interest his cock had in the fact that one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever known in his life was standing in front of him wearing only a sheet. Not the time, he thinks to himself sternly. "There's...uh, there's some kind of brunch or something today, right?" He vaguely remembers it on the itinerary for their high school reunion, a chance for everybody to bemoan their hangovers together and say goodbye before people started catching their flights home. "I'm sure whoever's idea this was will be there to lord it over us." He hopes that, anyway. Hopes that it was some dumb joke from one of the other drama club guys or somebody who thought it would be funny to embarrass the hell out of the leader of the Heroics.

He looks around, not quite sure where to begin. "Do you...are my clothes over there?"

You look around and find his clothes mixed with yours on the floor, obviously stripped off together. You ignore that and lean down, tossing him his pants and not noticing that your panties are stuck in one of the pants legs where they had been dragged off your body. "I–fuck, I need a shower." You look at the clock and your eyes widen. "You do too." You hiss, noticing you don't have much time. "We can, I guess we are going to have to share a bathroom." You bite your lip, and try to suppress interest in seeing him as a fully grown man instead of a nineteen-year-old boy.

Marcus blanches for a second, wondering if you mean showering together, but he convinces himself that you can't possibly. This whole thing is too insane to really understand and what he needs most in the world is to wash up and brush his teeth. As much as his body might be interested in finding out how well you've grown up, that would be completely inappropriate given the circumstances. "You take the shower," he offers, ever the gentleman. "I can just wash up quickly and brush my teeth. Stale beer isn't a great taste."

Your face burns, a flash of him looking up at you from in between your legs pops into your mind. “No– uh, there is a shower and a tub, you take the shower and I’ll– we’re both adults and it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before.” You reason. You hate how flustered you are, how intensely you just want to go back to sleep and pretend this is just a dream. “Or do whatever.” You add, looking towards the other door. “The sooner we figure out this is a joke, the sooner we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Right.” He wiggles into his boxers, stuck inside his pants in a way that said they were definitely pulled off together, under the covers and slips out of the bed to head toward the shower. You’re right, of course. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen each other naked, even before whatever happened last night. “S’dumb,” he mumbles. “Somebody decided it would be funny to put rings on us?” Pulling open the bathroom door revealed that this was your hotel room - bottles of sweet smelling soap and shampoo alongside a few bits of makeup and your deodorant and a hairbrush. Looks like he’ll be doing a walk of shame this morning.

Turning on the water for the shower, he turns shy again. You’re right. You’ve seen him naked. There’s no reason to hide from you. But that doesn’t stop him from turning away from you to take off his boxers before drawing back the shower curtain to hop in. He could live with you seeing his bare ass. He didn’t want you knowing he was sporting a semi from the faint memory of having his lips wrapped around your nipples a few hours ago.

You follow him into the bathroom, the sheet from the bed firmly anchored under your arm. Sighing when he closes the curtain behind him. Marcus Moreno. You lean over and turn on the water to the tub and plug the drain. You could admit to yourself that you hoped to catch his eye, if nothing but to show him exactly what he could have had if he hadn’t dumped you. Petty, you know, but still with the vindictiveness of someone scorned.

Not that he had been mean to you about it. No, Marcus had been distraught, admitting that he was falling for the girl in his Psych class when he had come home for fall break. The one that he would go on to marry and have his daughter with. From what you had heard, he mourned for a long time following the accident that had taken her from her family. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, he had just found the love of his life, and it wasn’t you.

Marcus groans under the hot water of the shower, leaning his forehead on the cool tile to try to ease the headache that was still splitting his skull in half. What a stupid ass situation. He’d been so excited to see you last night, still with that twinge of guilt but excited nonetheless. He’d started seeing your name in magazines here and there, your career really taking off, and he’d wanted to hear all about it from you instead of via a reporter. He’d kept his face still when you mentioned your divorce in passing. Told you a little about Missy and been grateful when you didn’t get starry eyed about him being a Heroic. His mother’s instinct to send him to a regular school had been a good one.

It happened by accident. When he turned to shove his lathered-up hair under the shower head, he’d caught the outline of your body lying back in the tub and choked on his reaction. God you’re gorgeous. Even more than you had been back then. Vision a little blurry without his glasses, he can still make out the rise of your breasts above the water and admire the line of your leg sticking out above the tub when you have started to wash up. Marcus’s throat runs dry and he wills himself to keep control. The shower curtain obviously let shadows through, and he doesn’t want to be disrespectful. He’d loved you once - so much - and doesn’t want you to think he’d grown up to be a creep, staring at you in the bath.

You try to clean up quickly, but the hot water eases the pain. Closing your eyes and trying to not listen to the sounds of Marcus in his shower. It was so surreal, being here in this situation. You couldn't deny that you had thought about him over the years. He had been your first love, honestly the first man that you thought you were going to marry, although life had other plans. The entire class had thought so too, yours and Marcus's picture flashed up on the screen together: the two of you at prom together. You both had been voted most likely to get married. Something that you had both awkwardly laughed over, and you had ordered another drink.

“I’m – uh, I’m done.” He hates the way his voice waivers, but he had no goddamn idea how to handle this. He shuts off the water and reaches blindly out to the shelf beside it where he’d seen towels to wrap one around his waist. He draws the curtain back slowly, giving you fair warning to cover up, and swallows down the urge to jam his glasses onto his face and get a decent look at you. You aren’t... together. Whatever had happened, it was the product of drinking and a potentially bad joke.

"Okay." You stand and reach for your own towel, stepping out onto the mat and securing it around your body before you turn to the curtain. "You can– I'm decent." You offer, not bothering to worry about the water that is dripping down your legs. "I'll go into the bedroom to get dressed." You tell him. "You can– fuck it, use my toothbrush. It's not like we didn't kiss." You offer before fleeing the room so you don't do something stupid, like drop your towel and see how he reacts.

It only takes a few minutes to get ready, and Marcus is in his day-old clothes opening the door for you when you decide it’s time to head downstairs. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready to face your former classmates, but he needs to know what happened. In the elevator, he discovers he’s nervously spinning the ring on his hand and looks down at yours again, seeing an expensive-looking wedding set, engagement ring and wedding band that lock together into an impressive piece of jewelry on your finger. It was the sort of thing he wanted to get you, back then. Dreamed of making his money young and being able to give you the world. Things changed when he’d met Missy’s mother, and he’d hated himself for hurting you even though he was so happy. “It’s nice,” he says, breaking the silence. “The rings. They’re...beautiful, actually.”

You jump, surprised that he had mentioned it before you look down at your hand. "It is." You admit, admiring it for a moment before your eyes find his. Looking away just as quickly. "Hopefully I– you, hopefully you can get your money back if you paid for it." You tell him quietly, knowing that if this was not a joke, it was definitely something he viewed as a mistake. "They look expensive."

He shrugs, looking down at his own ring. “Keep it.” He smiles sheepishly. “I gave it to you, I guess? So that makes it yours.” Over the last few years he had wondered what life would be like if he had stayed with you: if he’d still have Missy and if you’d get that cat you’d always wanted. If you still loved the snow. “You can remember what happened afterward, even if we can’t remember last night.”

You sigh, looking over at the man you are wondering if you had married in a drunken frenzy last night. You bite your lip, another flashback of last night coming to you. Riding him and having him kiss up your chest before he pulls your nipple into his mouth. You shake your head, banishing the memory just as the elevator arrives on the ground floor where the brunch was located. "No, I can't. You didn't want to marry me then, and you didn't want to marry me now." You tell him before you step out of the elevator and start walking off, not looking back.

“Shit.” He rushes after you, wanting to soothe your obvious and understandable irritation, but you have strode into the brunch room with your head held high. Strong as iron, just like you’d always been. When the crowd of your classmates sees you come into view there is an explosion of whooping and hollering, and just as much applause. His old friend Tim claps him on the back while he laughs.

Your heart plummets at the clapping and cheers. It's not a joke. You married Marcus last night. Susan rushes over to you, enveloping you in a tight hug and squealing loud enough that it hurts your ears over the rest of the noise. "Oh my God! I can't believe it!" She prattles, pulling away and grabbing your hand to gush over the ring. "I take full credit of course! It was all my idea and look!" She turns and points to the large screen where the projector is rolling and you gasp. There is video of you and Marcus, standing in a chapel in front of, of all things, an Elvis impersonator.  Great, not only had you drunkenly gotten married to a man you hadn't seen in nearly twenty years, but you had gotten married by Elvis in Las Vegas. One big walking cliche.

“Oh my god...” Marcus feels his jaw hit the floor and his heart starts pounding, a stark reminder of the flash of a memory he has of being heart-poundingly excited standing in front of you in that ridiculous chapel. Had this really happened? He scrubs one hand down his face as his other unconsciously moves to hover over the small of your back, protective but not touching. You are in this together, after all.

“I guess...it happened...” he breathes, right next to you. He can’t believe these assholes took video of it, but he supposes at least now you could know what actually happened.

On screen, Marcus watches himself grin at you and you grin back. You look happy. Excited even. You must have been so damn drunk – you had been so angry with him for so long after he broke up with you and he didn’t blame you for it. He could remember the heartbroken look on your face as you had sternly asked him to leave your house, choking back tears. It was so different from how you looked on that video. Up there, you looked as happy as the day he’d asked you out.

You school your face into one that everyone else would believe is happy. Wanting to look away from the video, instead you watch, fascinated as you and Marcus giddily exchange vows, unable to keep from kissing each other between vows like saps. "A toast to the happy couple!" You groan quietly and your stomach rolls at the thought of alcohol as flutes of champagne are brought over to you and Marcus. Unable to do more than accept them, you turn and face the man who was now apparently your husband.

“Hair of the dog,” Marcus whispers, trying for a reassuring smile. He tries not to throw up as soon as the champagne hits his throat, but he’s determined not to embarrass you any further by looking as mortified as he feels. Watching himself kiss you, he can distinctly remember the perfect way your lips had wrapped around his cock, tongue teasing the veins as you looked up at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” He asks in your ear, glancing over at an alcove nearby.

You finish the champagne despite it sloshing in your stomach and threatening to come up, then nod and hand your glass off to someone to follow him off to a secluded area. You swallow back some bile, hating that phrase. Remembering how he had resisted kissing you so many years ago and asked that same question before he broke up with you. "Yeah?" You ask, tensing for bad news and wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m starting to...” Marcus clears his throat, that glass of champagne not having helped at all. Hair of the dog his ass. “I’m starting to remember things.” He searches your face for a reaction but gets none. You look like a deer in headlights. “Um,” he exhales, eyes pinching closed for a second before opening again. He feels so guilty. Like he shouldn’t have these memories, despite the fact that you were the first person he did absolutely anything sexual with. “The sex.” He forces himself to say it. “Specifically, I’m starting to remember us having sex.”

You huff. "Yes, I'm fully aware we had sex, Marcus." You roll your eyes. "I'm the one that woke up with cum crusted on the inside of my thighs." Marcus flushes and his eyes dart down to your thighs. You were starting to get flashbacks of it as well, but it seems like he is remembering more than you did. "What's your–" You break off, your tone hostile and you don't want to take your mistakes out on him. "Okay, do you remember something you think I should know?"

“I know you’re mad,” Marcus’s head drops to his chest and he sighs. “We did something stupid and you have every right to be mad. But,” he glances up, hoping your eyes aren’t burning a hole in his head. “I made the first move, so...this is on me.” He can remember it clearly now. The two of you tipsy, having a fairly serious discussion about what happened back then, and he had kissed you. Apologized for hurting you. Told you how much he had been thinking about you lately, with the reunion coming up it had super charged his memories of you. “I kissed you first. And I’m pretty sure I was the first one to get clothes off. And I’m definitely the one who...went down on the other one first.” He  reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously. “So if you’re going to be mad about anything.” He shrugs. Now that he can remember it, that kiss felt amazing. That first press of your lips together after nineteen years and the way you had moaned against him when he opened his mouth for you to lick inside. “Be mad at me, I guess.” He can’t help himself, his eyes flick up to your lips, wavering there before looking back up at you. Now that he can remember it, he’s aching to do it again.

"I'm not...mad, I'm disappointed." You admit, looking away from him. "It's not like I hadn't– I wanted to just..." You shrug, suddenly feeling foolish. "I wanted to show you up, prove that you had missed out on something great. And now this is something that is going to cause you embarrassment." You close your eyes and sway slightly, your cunt clenching when you remember his tongue against your clit, moaning into you as he eagerly ate you out. "Stupid, huh? To still be petty about being dumped for the one you were supposed to be with." You swallow, meeting his gaze again and not being able to tell what he was thinking. "I'm sorry. I'll – I'll just go."

“Don’t!” He reaches out to grab your arm as soon as you turn, not too hard but enough to pull you back to him. “You did show me what I missed. And...from what I can remember, it was great.” You’re standing so close to him that he feels like he’s breathing down your neck and he has no idea if you’re okay with it or not, even though it’s stirring his cock back to life. “I don’t regret the years I had with Missy’s mother. She was a wonderful woman, and I loved her. If I hadn’t had her, I wouldn’t have Missy, but,” he huffs a sigh, his hand slipping up your arm to drag his knuckles down your cheek gently. “I loved you, too. I’m not embarrassed that we had sex. Please don’t think that, okay? I’m embarrassed that this is the way it happened. You deserve better.” He squeezes his eyes closed again, gearing himself up for you to snap at him again. “And, for the record? Everyone knows disappointed is worse than mad.”

You can't help but chuckle at that, relaxing at his speech. You didn't blame him, not really. The rejection had been heartbreaking at the time, but you also wouldn't have the career you have if you had stayed with Marcus. You would have followed his career, let it overshadow what you wanted to do with your life. "I guess we need to talk about this somewhere a little more private about all this." You look around and bite your lip. "Decide what we are going to do."

Marcus nods, glad you haven’t screamed at him or run away. “Do you want to placate our gleeful classmates and eat first?” He asks, not wanting to pressure you into anything. He’d gladly leave now if you wanted but he’d leave it up to you. “It might be helpful to hear more of what happened.”

You can agree with that. "It might help the hangover too." You acknowledge, looking towards the buffet. "Do you want to go grab a plate?" You ask, wanting to see if he wanted to eat with you or would prefer to separate and learn as much as he could on his own.

He glances around the room taking stock of everyone’s reactions and finds half the room trying very badly to pretend they’re not staring at the happy couple. “Go talk to Susan,” he suggests, knowing how your old friend loves to talk her head off. “I’ll see if Tim is feeling chatty.” He swallows, hard, and finds your eyes. “Better keep up appearances?” It’s selfish, using the curious eyes as an excuse to kiss you again, but Marcus Moreno is so rarely a selfish man that he’s willing to see if you’re okay with it.

You nod, knowing that everyone in the room is trying to discreetly look towards you. "Okay." You breathe out, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as he steps closer to you, his hand coming up to grip your waist. Your heart is pounding and you curl your hand around his neck as he leans in, his tongue coming out to swipe on his lower lip. "Kiss me, Marcus."

That’s all he has to hear. Holding back a groan, he tugs you closer and slots his lips against yours. It’s probably only for a second, but it feels like hours. The kind of kiss that makes him tingle. Your lips are as soft and warm as they were last night, but this time there’s no alcohol and the taste is all you with a touch of toothpaste. That groan he was holding back breaks free and he pulls back, embarrassed.

You sigh out, wishing he had kissed you for longer, but it was for show. Trying to convince the roomful of your former classmates that it hadn't been a drunken mistake when you had gotten married last night. You drop your hand from his neck and give him a small smile that you don't feel. "Good luck finding out what we did." You whisper and step to the side and walk off towards Susan.

Marcus watches you go, eyes lingering on your ass just a little too long, but he figures it’s okay to check out the woman who was technically his wife. God, what a mess. At this point, he had to admit to himself that he’d come here for you. No other reason and no other motive. He wanted to see you again and this was the only way how. How was he going to explain this to Missy? Hey here’s you new stepmom, we got drunk and Elvis sang Burnin Love to us after our vows. Ugh. He headed back to Tim and his other old friends, hoping they could shed some light on the events leading up to the insane cliche of a Vegas wedding.

“Awwww!” Susan is giggling when you walk back towards her, clapping her hands a little and looking at you with dreamy eyes. “You guys have always been so cute!”

"Thanks." You give her a smile and try to ignore the way you feel Marcus's eyes on you.

"He's watching you, you know." Susan says with a happy grin, making you look back to find his dark eyes on you. Giving you an encouraging smile before he looks over at the guys when someone comes up to him and slaps him on the back, a grin flashing across his face. "Tell me," Susan leans in conspiratorially, "was it as good as you remembered? Or was it even better?" She sighs, obviously in love with the idea of your fairy tale romance. "He's definitely a man and not a boy anymore." You hum and make a non-committal sound that she takes as playing it close to your chest.

******

“Come on, Romeo,” Tim is laughing and grinning, pulling Marcus along to join their other drama club friends in the buffet line. “Tear your eyes away from your bride for 30 seconds and come fuel up. From what I heard, you’re going to need your strength.”

Marcus blanches. “What d’ya’mean?” He mumbles, shoving a piece of toast in his face so he can’t say too much.

“Dude my room is right next to hers,” Tim shoots him a sly grin. “You guys are better than porn.”

“Uh...thanks?” What the hell does Marcus even say to that? “Please tell me you didn’t jack off to me having sex?” His eyes are absolutely pleading. He’s very glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself, but he doesn’t want anyone to say one single word against you for something you clearly regret. He wishes he didn’t have this knot in his stomach. Not the one from his hangover, but the one from kissing you just now.

“I would never do that.” Tim tells him solemnly before busting out a grin. “I was too busy editing your wedding video for today. Like you asked.”

******

"From what Tim said, you were very vocal."

You honestly wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You bite your lip, still aching pleasantly from whatever had made you so vocal last night. "So why don't you tell me what everyone said when we decided to go to the chapel."

That makes Susan change topics. She grins and nods. "Oh, everyone was just ecstatic. All talking about how touchy the two of you were. And when Marcus kissed you? All the girls that were jealous of you having him in high school were green with envy." She giggles and leans in to whisper, "Some of them didn't think it was real, just hype for the reunion, but I could see his heart in his eyes when he looks at you." She confides.

You flush, your cheeks burning, and you wish that were true. You had never exactly gotten over Marcus, even after you moved on and married your now ex-husband. "Well, the feeling was mutual." You admit, telling yourself it was just to keep up appearances.

******

“Thanks for that.” Marcus finds that he really means it, because it’s helping both of you to piece together the night - and maybe also a little bit because watching himself look at you like that was eating at his armor. The armor he had carefully constructed after his wife had died and he had promised himself that no other woman would come into Missy’s life until he was absolutely certain about her. And he had never been certain about any of the small number of women he’d dated in the last five years. But you? He mechanically fills up his plate with enough food to banish his hangover and nods his head along with whatever Tim was saying.

“What did she think of the ring?” He asks, and Marcus tunes back in. Tim huffs at his quizzical look and chuckles. “You were so serious about engraving those things, I figured she would at least say she liked it.”

Marcus immediately slips his ring off his finger and finds a rose flanked by both of your first initials carefully engraved inside. His chest clenched. You had played Romeo and Juliet together in high school –  the rose in his ring being just like the ones he used to give you before rehearsal.

******

Your head is pounding and Susan's chatter isn't helping, but you follow behind her and fill up your plate with things that won't make your stomach revolt. "And then that engraving on your rings? That was so sweet and the fact that Marcus insisted on it made me swoon."

Your eyes widen and when you sit down you slip off your rings to find your initials and a rose engraved on the inside of the band. "Oh." Your heart melts but the realistic side of you hates to see it. It means the rings can't be returned. You hope that you had paid for your rings yourself so he isn't out the money.

******

“Uh, yeah,” Marcus manages to nod, forcing a smile that he hopes is convincing. “She really liked it.” Ready for a tornado to come and swallow him whole, Marcus shoves his hand in his pocket as the guys head to a table together, finding his cell phone open to a text string with his daughter:

‘Missy, I know I should have talked to you first. I should have told you about her, and how she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved besides your mother.’

‘There’s nobody else I want in our lives and even your abuela liked her, so you know she’s a keeper.’

‘Miss, I’m not trying to replace your mom. I just hope you’re okay with this. I love her, and I hope you will too.’

Oh god. Marcus swallows the rising dread threatening to make him sick all over again. What have I done?

******

You look over at Marcus, frowning when you see him looking at his phone with a distraught look on his face. You wondered what has him looking like he's seen a ghost. You think about going over there, but you aren't really his wife.

"Hey everybody!" Your head turns to the front of the room where the projector is going. "We are about to officially show the wedding video of our own newest happy couple. Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Moreno! Come on guys, stand up and come up here!" You want to crawl into a hole when everyone starts clapping again and Susan urges you up.

Catching your eye from a few tables away, Marcus makes his way over to you with an uneasy gait. The texts back from Missy had been more confused than anything else and he wasn’t looking forward to explaining what had happened. Reaching your seat, he offers you his hand to hold and presses an apologetic kiss to the back of it when you accept the gesture. The room “awwe”s at the sweet gesture, mistaking it for romantic.

"Are you okay?" You murmur quietly as the two of you make your way to the front of the room. Marcus squeezes your hand gently but doesn’t answer, making your stomach flip from nerves and from the way his hand feels entangled with yours. When you come up to the front, the former class president, John Walker, grins at both of you.

"So in high school they were voted most likely to get married." The picture of the two of you wrapped around each other was flashed up on the screen again like it had throughout the brunch. Your smile doesn't falter but your eye twitches, your grip on Marcus's hand loosening. "It's taken twenty years, but last night they made that a reality! And thanks to Tim Dalton, we have the wedding video for everyone to enjoy!"

When the footage starts rolling it's of the whole reunion, lots of couples slow dancing on the hotel ballroom's dance floor to the Pretender's "I'll Stand by You". The camera zooms in on Marcus with his arms around you, the two of you with hearts in your eyes. The song continues as Marcus watches himself lean in to kiss you, and he smiles a little now at the memory. On the screen, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, both of you losing the rhythm of the music as you get caught up in the kiss. He remembers it distinctly now, that moment. He leans down a little and nudges your shoulder before whispering in your ear: "I remember that...you, um...you had just told me you missed me. And I said I missed you too."

You vaguely remember that, the haze of alcohol not having taken hold quite yet. "You...you said that you almost asked your information director for my number." Your brow furrows as you remember that detail. "You didn't want to contact me through the reunion app." There was an app that was like a general chat room for the entire class. It was chaotic at best and completely visible to everyone. "Or am I imagining that?"

He shakes his head gently, head still bent next to your ear. "No. You didn't imagine that." He swallows, dry mouth and the slight anxiety of memories coming back mixing together. "I really only came here to see you, anyway. I didn't figure the whole class needed to know that, so...I was going to call you and see if you were even coming." Heat creeps up Marcus's cheeks. "Clearly, I chickened out."

You can't help but grin at that. "But obviously it worked out." You point out, liking the way that his eyes lighten when they crinkle in a matching grin. God he’s still as handsome as the day you had first held his hand. Or the last day he had been close to you. Maybe more so. He had aged like fine wine. Your attention is captured when you see the video change, obviously later in the night, the two of you a little more tipsy.

Marcus reluctantly looks away from you, turning his eyes up again to watch the two of you on screen – you sitting in his lap with your arms around him, gently peppering his cheeks and neck with kisses. The audio crackles a little, tuning in to what the two of you are saying. "So fucking gorgeous," he hears himself saying to you, before he actually giggles a little at you planting a kiss on a spot where he's ticklish. He has to agree with his tipsy self – you look amazing.

Catcalls come over the video, shouts from other classmates for you to get a room. Until Susan comes into view. "No, they need to just get married! We all know they belong together."

You fluster tipsily, laughing and kissing Marcus. "You should make an honest woman out of me." You coo, batting your eyelashes at him playfully. Oh God, you had encouraged it, you had practically begged Marcus to marry you. Embarrassment floods your body even as Marcus eagerly nods on the video.

The catcalls turn to cheers as Marcus watches himself lift you off his lap and slip off his chair, down on one knee. Wide-eyed, he grips your hand tighter as he watches himself propose to you. Tipsy as he was he trips over his words a little, but it is absolutely clear that he was not coerced or forced in any way. And neither were you. Tipsy? Yes. Encouraged by your classmates? Absolutely. But this was two adults who seemed to be fully aware of what they were doing.

You watch the proposal and the way that you immediately nod and crush your lips to his.  Only pulling away to shout to everyone around you that you were getting married. "Oh my God." You whine, only where Marcus can hear you while everyone else in the room releases 'awwwwe's and laughs at how excited the two of you are in the video. "I don't think you can blame yourself for this."  You whisper to Marcus.

"We're in this together." He moves his hand from holding yours to wrapping his whole arm around your shoulders supportively. The video morphs again - this part clearly filmed on someone's phone as you and Susan are poking through white dresses in a shop clearly meant for this exact purpose. Susan grabs a little veil off a shelf and plops it on your head, telling you to "Say something to Marcus!" while she points at the phone. They were obviously already planning on putting this video together.

"Marcus, I love you so much." You gush to the camera, making a kissing face to it before you burst into giggles. Susan squeals and says she's found the perfect dress, recapturing your attention.

The video cuts to Marcus searching for suits with Tim. "I can just wear this." He whines, looking down at the outfit he was wearing. Your eyes widen, realizing the suit he was wearing now wasn't what he had come to the reunion in.

"No man, you can't get married in that. Tell your lady love something." Tim says, encouraging Marcus to look over at the camera.

“I love you, hermosa.” Marcus says on the video, flustering and grinning. “I’m so glad you’re here and I’m here and that you said yes.”

Beside you, Marcus looks down at his suit and squeezes his eyes closed. How did he not realize that he wasn’t wearing the same one he came in? The pile of clothes on your hotel room from earlier comes back into his mind and he now realizes there was a white dress tossed in one corner of the room.

The video cuts to the chapel, the two of you giggling and Marcus won't even let you go long enough to walk down the aisle traditionally. Loudly telling Elvis that he wasn't letting you go, it had been too long since he had last held you. That makes you bite your lip, swallowing hard when he leans in and kisses you again on screen.

The vows are surprisingly heartfelt, for how drunk you both are at that point. He’s pulling you in for kisses after every sentence or two, telling Elvis that he wouldn’t be able to keep from kissing you either if he were him. When Elvis finally proclaims you man and wife, Marcus watches himself pick you up bridal style and carry you back down the aisle, shouting at everyone not to wait up. The sound of you giggling in his arms is one that brings him back – and he realizes he’s been holding you tighter while your haphazard wedding ceremony plays out on screen.

You fluster, hearing the comments that the party that had come with you are saying. You bite your lip and your face feels like it's on fire when they start making bets on how long before you announce a baby. Your eyes dart over to Marcus's and you see his own widen behind his glasses, the thought of birth control obviously one that had just hit him. You take mercy on him, not wanting him to panic too hard. You lean in to him. "I'm protected." You whisper, hoping to put his mind at ease.

Marcus deflates a little at your assurance, ashamed that he hadn’t thought of that himself. The video ends with Susan and Tim waving your marriage certificate in front of the camera and the room is filled with the sound of flatware clicking against glasses. “Kiss!” Someone in the back of the room spots, and within seconds everyone has joined in.

You lift a brow and look at him in question. It wasn't like you hadn't kissed before. This time you were a little more eager, wishing that you knew what he was thinking when he searches your face before nodding. His hand cups your cheek, and you tilt your head as his mouth slants across yours. Firm and much deeper than the one he had put on you earlier, making you whimper into his mouth and melt against him.

Kissing you had a habit of making the world float away. Marcus had kept himself firmly on the ground in the alcove earlier, but this time you were pressed against him and sighing open to let him in and he melted along with you – much to the glee of the entire ballroom. This time when you parted it was reluctantly and Marcus keeps his eyes on yours, knowing how much softer he looks and feels. Did you actually mean even the smallest bit of what you had said last night? Did you still love him even a little bit or was it the alcohol and horniness talking? Make an honest woman out of me, you had said on that video. He would have, if he hadn’t met Missy’s mother. You were the only two women he’d ever loved. And right now the clenching in his heart told him he might have meant it when he said he loved you. Or at least, he was falling back in love with you.

You tuck your head under his chin, shy from how much you had let yourself slip into the kiss. Feeling like it had been real while he was kissing you. Your heart aches, wishing that everything that had been said in that video had been real, but you couldn't be sure. You sigh quietly when his arms tighten around you as the rest of the room finally quiets down. "Now lovebirds, as a gift to you, we have booked you two a few extra days here and changed your flights. So you can enjoy a proper honeymoon." John announces, making your eyes widen. "Some of us have bets on when there will be another announcement." He chuckles.

“It’s okay,” Marcus whispers to you. His arms squeeze you close and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It gives us time to figure this out.” Figure it out. Marcus can feel how wrong the words came out, but he doesn’t know what to say to fix it. You would want out of all of this as soon as possible, but since there were probably twice as many divorce lawyers in Vegas as there were chapels, he was sure you’d be out of the woods in no time. He would apologize profusely to Missy and nurse a severely sad heart at home. He had never wanted to do anything to hurt you and now he’d done it twice – breaking up with you and somehow getting you into a marriage that you’d only agreed to because you were drunk.

From the side of the little stage, Tim hands him a room key with a wink. “And there’s a surprise waiting for you there!” He announces to the room. Your eyes widen, half afraid of what kind of surprise there is.

“Well, I guess that’s our queue to leave.” Marcus says playfully, taking your hand again and making everyone laugh. He leans into the microphone and tells the crowd: “Thank you, this will definitely be a reunion we will never forget.” Talk about the understatement of the year. And severely ironic.

John shoos you off the stage. “We wish you both the best of luck and get out of here! Go make babies!” He jokes, making you fluster and you can see Marcus’s ears burning.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide​ @elegantduckturtle  ​

My Masterlist!

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 9th

Day 9: Anal // Praise Kink // Food Play

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Plugs/toys, anal fingering, ass slapping, oral sex (female receiving), anal sex, virgin ass

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Squirming slightly, you bite your lip as you try not to give away the game. Glancing up from your paperwork to see that he is engrossed in whatever report he is reading. Your eyes slide over his handsome features. Since going back to the field, he’s worn a more casual look into the office, but it always pairs so nicely with that leather jacket. Wearing his glasses less, although he’s got them on right now. 

He’s so fucking sexy without even trying to be and ever since that last conversation, you’ve been obsessed with the idea of him fucking your ass. 

Marcus had been widowed for a long time, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t experienced. Despite looking like an All-American Heroic, he loved sex. He loves experimenting. You had learned that very quickly after jumping into bed with him. 

This weekend is the perfect opportunity to take it to the next level. The conference was in a beautiful resort, and ‘somehow’ you and Marcus had been booked into the same suite. Ms. Granada had smirked when she told you the news, rumors of your relationship have already made the rounds through the halls of the Heroics’ Headquarters and neither one of you had denied it. 

“Are you almost done, babe?” You ask, making him look up, his brow furrowing slightly. 

“Yeah, uh-” He suddenly wonders if you had booked a table somewhere for dinner, if he’s forgotten about that. “Yeah.” He nods, taking his glasses off as he tries to remember what you had said you wanted to do. You said you had something planned but he doesn’t think that you’ve said anything else aside from that. 

“Good.” You can see he’s a little confused, but you get off the couch and walk around the coffee table to where he is sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room of the suite. “I have something I want to show you.”

Marcus frowns as you turn around. Unsure of what you might be showing him until you slide your dress up your hips and bend over, your legs spread. 

His mouth runs dry. There, teasing him, is a little jeweled plug buried deep in your ass. His groan is immediate, accompanied by the hardening of his cock. “Fuck.” He hisses, reaching out and grabbing your ass with both hands as he leans in, spreading your cheeks wider as he gets a good look. 

You giggle quietly, twisting your head around to watch his gaze turn focused and nearly feral. He’s mentioned it before, wanting to fuck your ass. Telling you that he could make you enjoy it despite having never really been interested in it before. He never pressured, just telling you that if you wanted to do it, to let him know. 

You are ready, deciding that this weekend was the perfect time to give him this. “It feels strange.” You admit, sucking in a sharp gasp when his thumb moves to the jewel and he shifts it inside you. “Strange, but good.” 

“How long have you been wearing it?” He asks, biting his lip as he watches your puckered hole clench around the plug. 

“Only a few hours.” You admit, knowing that you didn’t want to wear it for too long. He groans again and this time you are moaning when he twists it inside you. It’s strange how that simple action can make your cunt clench around nothing, but you are already soaking wet from the anticipation. 

“Goddamn, it looks so pretty.” He coos, squeezing your ass and pulling you slightly closer. “When did you get this little beauty?” 

You whimper and wish he would stop staring at your asshole, but you know he likes your surprise. “A- a couple of days ago.” You had stopped by the adult toy store and picked it up, wanting to wash it and look at it. 

“You’re so good to me.” He praises, already straining at the seam of his jeans and eager to take you to bed. “Did you get lube, sweetheart?” 

Of course you did. There is no way Marcus Moreno is sliding his cock in your ass without some lube. He’s too thick to even imagine it. “Uh huh.” You hum. “In the bedroom.” 

Marcus groans, slapping your ass and reluctantly letting you go. He needs to get you into the bedroom and prep you a little more. 

****

“Marcus.” Your eyes clench closed, your fingers twisted in the sheets as you try not to roll your hips up, away from him.

He’s killing you with this pace. Three fingers buried inside of you, replacing your plug one at a time until he’s got the three inside you. His tongue lashes at your clit again, moaning into your folds and making you curl your toes when they flick over your sensitive bud again as you ride out your second orgasm. 

His dark eyes are laughing at you, finally pulling away as he scissors his fingers one last time, finding that you are opened up enough to finally take him. “Now I’ll fuck you.” 

You whimper at the cocky assurance in his tone. Watching Marcus change from the mild mannered man to the in-charge lover is one that is spectacular to behold. Confident and almost brash as he pulls you apart and pieces you back together every time. “Then do it.” You are practically pouting and your tone is needy. 

Deliberately, he drags it out. Turning you over and pulling your hips up to the position that he wants. Face pressed to the cool sheets and your ass up in the air, you can see him shuffle behind you. 

Another thick dollop of lube coats his fingers to rub around your puckered hole, making you whimper and clench slightly, pushing back and moaning in desperation as he pulls his fingers away. You can hear him, hear the slide of his cock through his slickened hand, coating himself in the friction resistant lube. The low groan as your body throb in anticipation, knowing your hole is fluttering wildly. All you can do is wait for him to move. To claim you. 

Marcus shuffles closer. Licking his lips as he presses forward, his cock sliding through your cheeks and around your hole. One hand holds your hip steady, keeping you from rocking back as he gets closer to filling you. 

“Marc-” 

“I’ve got you, baby.” He coos, smirking slightly as he lines up to start to slowly break you open with gentle yet firm pressure. “Don’t worry, you’ll take me.” 

You weren’t worried about that, but it is reassuring to know. A low moan starts in your throat as he starts to push inside you. Slowly filling you, an inch at a time. 

Your eyes closed and you don’t know it, but Marcus has his eyes closed too. Savoring the way you feel. How your ring of muscles is clenching around him and having to wait until you relax to push in just a bit more. Rocking his hips until they are flush against your ass and he is buried deep. 

He’s thick, long and completely stretching you out. Your fingers curl into the sheets as he gives you time to adjust to him. Waiting so patiently even though you can feel every pulsing beat of his heart and his excitement through the insistent throbbing of his cock, making your own body respond to it. Until you are pushing back, begging him to move inside you. “Baby please,” you whine, rolling your hips back and needing him to give you more. 

“So good for me, baby.” Marcus groans, pulling his hips back slowly. “You’re gonna love it.” He promises, making sure that he keeps his word. 

[nerdieforpedro]

Nerdie’s Fanfic Picks - Volume Seven!

All fanfics on this list are for readers age 18 and up, please respect the author's tags, warnings and notes as they're there so you know what's in them. YOU are in charge of your own reading experience!

1. Cuz I love you series (three parts) by @fhatbhabiee (DBF Joel Miller x reader)

2. Afterward - Chapter One by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Moreno x female reader)

3. Helpful not so Helpful Guide to Jake Johnson by @soft-persephone

4. A Gift of Life and Joy by @prolix-yuy (Javier Gutierrez x plus size female reader “Conejita)

5. Where the Wild Things Are by @fhatbhabiee (Jack Daniels x reader)

6. Teach You Patience by @frenchiereading (Frankie Morales x ofc)

7. In Bloom by @maggiemayhemnj (AU Ezra x GN reader)

8. Easy Access by @laurfilijames (Will Miller x female reader)

9. Drabble #4 by @drabblesandsnippets (Bucky Barnes x plus size reader)

10. Please Mr. Postman by @legendary-pink-dot (Sleezy mailman Joel Miller x female reader)

11. Afterword - Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Moreno x f! Reader)

12. Sleep Tight Love by @superhoeva (Captain John Price x female reader)

13. Obligation by @criticallyacclaimedstranger (Joel Miller x f reader) both are older

14. Barking up the Wrong Tree - Chapter One and Chapter Two by @connectioneverywhere (Frankie Morales x f! Reader)

15. Obscenery by @sin-djarin (Tim Rockford x Dave York)

16. Fifteen hundred and one by @undercoverpena (Frankie Morales x f! Reader)

17. Friendly Face by @sunshineandspencer (Aaron Hotchner x fem receptionist)

18. Pretty Please by @baronessvonglitter (QZ Joel Miller x bookworm f! Reader)

19. It’s lonely at the end of the world (until it’s not) by @guessimwritingficsagain (Joel Miller x f! Reader) Mention of SA and mental trauma

20. Chapter 1 Howdy, Neighbor! by @inept-the-magnificent (Frankie Morales x Shelby plus size OFC)

21. A kind of look by @sunshineandspencer (Spencer Reid x fem BAU reader)

22. Worth A Thousand Words by @intoanotherworld23 (Joel Miller x f! Reader)

23. Raining in Baltimore by @schnarfer (Marcus Pike x f! Reader)

24. Fifteen Minutes by @whocaresstillthelouvre (Din Djarin x f! Cam reader AU)

25. Bunny - One Shot by @whatsnewalycat (Javier Peña x f! Reader)

Nerdie’s Fanfic Picks

Main Masterlist

[thelightsandtheroses]

June Wrap-Up

I thought it would be nice to start a monthly wrap up of my fics, fic recs, and any other updates or recs I have.

This Month’s Fic Recs

These are just a few of the fics I’ve enjoyed this month, but there are so many great and fics out there by very talented writers within this fandom! Some of them I still need to leave comments on (I’m sorry - but this is planned/in drafts!) but I still want to highlight here as a start! Please be mindful of any content warnings and I believe all fics or blogs below are 18+

Javier Peña

Late Night Texts - @mvtthewmurdvck

Nowhere to Run @mvtthewmurdvck

Insomnia @iamskyereads

Jump Then Fall @musings-of-a-rose

Joel Miller

A Safe Haven @pedgeitopascal

A Stranger’s Heart Without A Home- @morning-star-joy

Fake It - @hier--soir

Dieter Bravo

Sweet Creature - @wildemaven

Frankie Morales

The Layover - @goodwithcheese

Designated Person @whatsnewalycat

Rainy World, Blanket Days - @mvtthewmurdvck

Golden, Like Daylight @wyn-n-tonic

Pleased to Meet You @intheorangebedroom

Marcus Moreno

Eyes Open @radiowallet

My Writing Throughout June

All of my fics are x female reader unless otherwise indicated.

Javier Peña

Secret Smile - chapter one

- chapter two

Frankie Morales

Call It What You Want -chapter two

Joel Miller

Everybody Leaves So Why, Why Wouldn’t You? - one shot within Fuel to Fire series (no prior reading required)

Favourite June Books, TV and Films

Once More With Feeling - Elissa Sussman [book]

New Girl [tv]

Succession [tv] - just finished season 2, yes I’m late to the game

The Leftovers [tv] - still on season 1

[sirowsky-stories]

All Hallows Quarrel

Sirowsky's 600 & 700 Followers Celebration

Submitted by @spishsstuff Prompt #2: What's with all the candles? Prompt #12: How did you do that? Prompt #20: Can we just go home and have sex now? Character: Marcus Moreno

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Marcus Moreno x Female Reader. Reader has a strained relationship with her mother. Can be read as canon, in which case the ending is both happy and kinda sad, if you've seen the movie. Word Count: 825 Masterlist of the Celebration Sirowsky's Main Masterlist

   “Uh… honey?” Marcus called out as he stepped through the front door of your shared home.

   “Yeah?” you called back from further into the house.

   “What’s with all the candles? Are we celebrating something?” he asked while taking off his shoes and hanging up his leather jacket, both of which were sounds you knew by heart.

   “It’s called All Hallows Eve. Heard of it?” you teased as you walked into the kitchen, meeting him coming from the opposite direction.

   “That’s today?”

   “Wow. You’re amazing, you know that? No one I’ve ever met is as unbothered by the passing of time as you are, my darling.    Seasons, holidays, birthdays, it all just passes you by.”

   “Hey, I have never missed your birthday, or an anniversary,” he hurriedly countered, making you snicker.

   “I’m talking about your own birthdays, Mo.”

   “Oh. Yeah, I do tend to miss those.”

   You just smiled and kissed him to welcome him home and he snagged you into one of his signature tight hugs before letting you go.    But as he pulled back, there was a confused crease to his forehead once more.

   “Why are you dressed to go out?” he noted, realizing that you were wearing a bra, which you never did at home unless you knew that you’d be leaving the house again soon.

   “Ah, yes. Help me put all the candles out, will you. I was a bit premature in lighting them, it seems, because we have to go to my mother’s house for dinner. She’s already called me like six times.”

   He chuckled at that, before heading to the bedroom to change out of his dress-shirt and into a nice Henley.    Marcus loved the relationship you had with your mother, because it was a very Italian one. You’d argue as though you were bitter enemies at times, but even so, you never parted ways without hugging or telling each other how much you loved one another.    And she always doted on her one and only son-in-law.

   When he walked back into the kitchen, you’d moved to the adjoining living room and started putting candles out, but then all the little flames suddenly went out at once, without so much as a breath having moved through the house.    Confused, you looked around and saw your husband grin knowingly where he stood, leisurely leaning against the kitchen island with his hands in his pockets.

   “How did you do that?” you asked, more than mildly impressed, because even after five years of knowing this man and two years of being married to him, he still managed to surprise you.

   “Trade secret,” was all he offered in response, so you huffed at him and then went to put your shoes on.

   “Some day you’d better tell me all these little trade secrets of yours, Mr. Moreno.”

   “When we’re grey and old, cariño. How else am I gonna keep you interested for another fifty years?” he joked while pulling his jacket back on.

   As always, your mother made a big deal of everything. That you were late, that you were casually dressed for what she considered a big occasion, that you hadn’t brought her any gifts, all of which you ignored since she hadn’t alerted you to the fact that you were expected to attend this dinner, until just over an hour earlier.    You did actually get through the meal without getting into any heated arguments, though.

   It wasn’t until she started once again nagging on you for not having a “real” job, that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore.    Sure, you worked mostly from home, but it was very much a real job, and it paid much better than anything she’d ever worked with.    There was something about this need of hers to always make you feel small and unaccomplished that just got to you, sending you into a rage in no time flat.

   Marcus never tried to diffuse the situation; he knew better than to get involved. So instead, he just waited until your mother became riled up enough to leave the room, and then he got up and pulled you to your feet, wrapping his arms around you and somehow just squeezing the anger out of you.

   “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had my fill of All Hallows Eve, I think. Can we just go home and have sex now?” he asked, entirely serious, which made it both comical and comforting.

   “Yeah. This Eve done lost her Hallows,” you answered, keeping to the light tone of the moment, which your mother then managed to ruin.

   “Yes, go home and make babies!” she shouted from the kitchen, and you were just too done with her right then to go off on her again.

   “Love you, mom,” was all you replied, and then you and Marcus left, thankfully managing to restore your happy mood from before once you were alone between your sheets.

   And nine months later, Missy was born.

THE END

Thank you, Tish! You always manage to give me fun challenges for these celebrations. I hope you enjoyed it :)

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[bluestar22x]

BlueStar's Fanfic Masterlist

xxx

All my explicit fics are labeled with the appropriate ratings and warnings but please don't interact with any of my fics if you aren't 18+.

Warning: I write a lot of female reader insert fanfics, and I usually try to not describe their physical features but sometimes for the sake of the story or due to error there are details. They also fairly commonly have detailed histories for the sake of the storytelling. I write what I want to read.

Do NOT repost my fics! (Reblogs are welcome of course)

xxx

Pedro Pascal Characters

Joel Miller

Colors - Joel Miller x Blind F!Reader

One Night - Joel Miller x F!Reader

The Fallen Warrior Series - Joel Miller x F!Reader; Joel Miller x OFC

Visitation Rights - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Morning Routine - Joel Miller x F!Reader ("Visitation Rights" Verse)

A Haunting In Jackson - Joel Miller x F!Reader ("Visitation Rights" Verse)

A Bad Fall - Joel Miller, Ellie Williams

The Tree - Joel Miller, Ellie Williams

Christmas In Jackson - Joel, Ellie, Tommy, & Maria

Javier Peña

Sweet Summer Series - Javier Peña x F!Reader

New Year's Promise - Javier Peña x F!Reader ("Sweet Summer" Verse)

The Weekend - Javier Peña x F!Reader ("Sweet Summer" Verse)

Frankie Morales

Love Bites - Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Maze Find - Frankie Morales x F!Reader

The Fishing Trip - Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Serenity - Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Snowed In - Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Din Djarin

Nightmare - Din Djarin, Grogu

Weary - Din Djarin x Omera

Dieter Bravo

Boo! - Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Unknown Series - Dieter Bravo x OFC (Ongoing Series)

Ezra (Coming Soon)

Jack Daniels

The Riding Lesson - Jack Daniels x F!Reader

Javi Gutierrez

Clean - Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

The Pool - Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

The Writing Contest Series - Javi Gutierrez x OFC (Ongoing Series)

Marcus Moreno

Second Chances Series - Marcus Moreno x OFC

Never Forgotten - Marcus Moreno x OFCs ("Second Chances" Verse)

Marcus Pike

A Lifetime Of Flowers - Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Baby Fever Series - Marcus Pike x F!Reader (Ongoing Series)

The Shot Not Taken - Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Pero Tovar

The Journey Series - Pero Tovar x F!Reader

The Outcast Series - Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Tim Rockford

Betrayal - Tim Rockford x F!Reader

The Rockford Files Series - Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Zach Wellison

Finding Eden Series - Zach Wellison x F!Reader (Ongoing Series)

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What If The Series Were Novels? (Canva Book Covers)

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911 Lonestar

Some Good News - Judd x Grace (Pregnancy Announcement AU)

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Supernatural

Losing A Son - 14x07 Fix-It Fic

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Original Works

Alien Son

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Other places to find my works:

AO3 (BlueStar22)

Fanfiction.net (DeanCasLover22)

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[radiowallet]

I posted 6,280 times in 2022

That's 265 more posts than 2021!

1,428 posts created (23%)

4,852 posts reblogged (77%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jazzelsaur

@radiowallet

@astroboots

@magpie-to-the-morning

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

I tagged 5,841 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#cat replies - 1,186 posts

#cat reads - 941 posts

#fic rec - 698 posts

#cat answers - 621 posts

#marcus moreno fic - 536 posts

#nice people say nice things - 525 posts

#marcus moreno - 410 posts

#lovely inbox message - 352 posts

#art rec - 280 posts

#dieter bravo fic - 251 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#maybe she gives him a back massage but he can feel the toy catching on his backside and by the time she starts he’s a quivering mess

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Not Bored

Summary: Javi and you spend a quiet night together watching a movie and your restlessness distracts Javi in the best way possible. WC: 2.9K Pairing: Javi G. x Female!Reader (established relationship) Warnings: 18+ Minors be gone! Unprotected sex, cock warming, edging, dirty talk, dirty talk, praising. A/N: No beta for this one. It goes into battle without fear! BUT big thanks to @jazzelsaur @magpie-to-the-morning and @write-and-buried who I definitely tortured in the DM's by sending bits and pieces of this too as I was writing it.

Masterlist

You are bored. 

You don’t even remember what this movie is supposed to be about; all you know is that Javi promised it would change your life. A promise he makes regularly but you never complain or dispute. He usually always makes just the right choice, having nailed down your tastes with amazing accuracy and dedicated passion.

No matter the genre, the pictures playing out in front of you are always able to keep both of you glued to the screen, but tonight is different. You’re restless, fidgety, having lost the plot thread 10 minutes in. The dialogue is stilted, the opening scene stretching on much too long, and Javi is sitting next to you in lime green sweatpants looking far better than he has any right to. 

Lime green.

And doing nothing to hide the size of him. 

He notices your wandering eye almost right away, one thick finger touching your chin gently, moving your head back in the direction of the television. 

“You are missing important lines, mi flor.” 

You stifle a sigh and turn back to the movie, only pouting a little bit when the warmth of Javi’s finger leaves your skin, but it doesn’t go far, trailing a slow path down your shoulder to rest on the curve of your hip. He’s already focused back on the screen, his lips moving along silently with the actors, his breath tickling in your ear, and you can’t help but shiver from his gentle touch. You do your very best, Javi’s enthusiasm for the story bleeding into your mood, but only barely, and soon enough you're fidgeting in your seat again, restless fingers finding the meat of Javi’s thighs. 

“Mi floooor,” he warns one more time, but he doesn’t stop you, instead spreading his legs a little wider. You know he’s baiting you, setting a trap meant to punish you for your lost focus. It doesn’t stop you. In fact you feel emboldened; you’re happy to be swept up in one of Javi’s games, knowing he means it in only the most joyful ways and that in the end you’ll both win. You let the tip of your index finger go up, carving a path around the outline of his cock, already half hard from your teasing touch. 

You make two more passes before giving up all pretense of watching the movie. On the third trip up and around the full length of him, you look down, content to watch the shape of him grow thicker.  When you reach the tip, you circle it with a little bit more pressure, licking your lips as a small wet spot appears in the bright green fabric. 

You hear Javi whine above you, needy and sweet, and you double your efforts, letting the palm of your hand rub at his cock, his thighs trembling from the sudden increase in pleasure. You let your lips fall to his shoulder, eternally grateful he skipped a shirt after the two of you rinsed the pool water off together, giving you the opportunity to press soft kisses into each freckle that tattoos his golden skin. 

You think maybe this is how you’ll finish your night, slowly working Javi towards release as he watches what is supposedly a fantastic movie. You’d be more than happy to, no one more deserving of a night like that than Javi Gutierrez. You’re just about to slip your hand beneath the waistband of his sweats when both of his hands find your waist, fingers digging with enough strength to bruise. With little flourish he’s yanking at your leggings, pulling until they’re wrapped around your thighs, your underwear tangled up with them. You want to ask for an explanation but Javi is one step ahead of you, pulling out his cock– hard and leaking– and then suddenly you’re in his lap, your back pressed to his chest and the entire length of him is splitting up inside you. 

The cry you let out is strangled, a mix of pain bleeding bright into pleasure as Javi’s girth stretches you open. He thrusts up inside you once, the angle shooting stars into your vision, and then he’s settling back into the couch, his hands holding you firmly in place against the hard planes of his chest. 

“This is okay?” His question is whispered, voice sweet, apologetic.

You breathe out a “yes” knowing he needs to hear you say it.

“Now,” he chides, voice rising in volume, teeth nipping at your ear, “you will focus, little flower and watch this movie with me, sì?”

You mewl pathetically, realization slipping cold down your back to mix with the hot waves of arousal swimming in your belly. Javi’s intent is clear; he plans to keep you here, his cock sitting heavy inside your pussy, refusing to move until the last of the credits roll across the screen. You try once to shift your hips back, but his grip is like iron, fingers digging into you, holding you firmly in place. Another moan falls out of you, louder this time and Javi tuts in your ear.

“We will have to rewind a few minutes. We must not miss key elements.”

And then he does just that, one hand fumbling for the remote, rewinding the movie back two full minutes, his lips pressed firmly to the spot behind your ear, his eyes focused on the television screen. You feel another little wave of pleasure rip through you at his firm tone, but you trap it as best you can, teeth digging into your bottom lip. It feels filthy in the best ways, your legs stretched open, thighs falling on either side of Javi’s, your lower half on display to the empty theater room, slick arousal leaking out of you. 

You can feel it sliding out around Javi’s cock, dripping down your legs to the couch below. You want to be embarrassed but you can’t find the strength, your body lost to the feeling of him inside you, your mind heavy with the fog of JaviJaviJavi. Every inch of him is pulsing inside of you and the thought has you delirious. Your skin is on fire, and you're hungry for more, wishing you could shift your hips in search of relief. Your blood is humming with that delicious spark of pleasure, the kind that starts in your stomach slowly unfurls until everything is too bright, too loud, too everything.

You make one more pitiful effort to move your hips back, searching for friction but Javi only holds you tighter, teeth nipping at your ear as he growls, rewinding the movie yet again. You choke back a sob, willing your body to settle against his chest, your fingers clawing at the soft blanket that has pooled uselessly around you. This seems to appease Javi for the time being, his hands loosening slightly around the curve of your hips, petting at your thighs with the pads of his fingers, soothing the spot he scraped raw with a gentle kiss.  

“Good girl. Let us finish, and then I promise, I will take good care of you.” 

Your legs clench without warning at his praise, but you manage to stay silent, earning you one more kiss to your neck before Javi’s attention returns fully to the movie. You spend the next hour in a haze, stretched and full and needy, unable to focus on anything other than warm skin and strong hands. At some point you give up all pretense that you’re paying attention, burying your head into the curve of Javi’s shoulder, inhaling the smell of sweet red wine that seems to cling to him. You’ve never been more grateful that he leaves you be. He seems content to watch the rest of the film alone as he warms himself inside you and you’re content to let him. 

You can feel his breath coming in short puffs through his nose, his pulse picking up speed where your lips rest against his neck. You know you aren’t the only one affected and it gives you the smallest amount of satisfaction that Javi’s plan is backfiring just a tiny bit. One hand starts to drift from your waist up your ribcage, goosebumps peppering your sweat-damp skin. It’s a steady sweep up your torso and back down again, his touch going higher each time until finally he gives in to his own needs and cups your breast in one huge hand. 

You see your chance, a small one, knowing how much Javi loves to lose himself in your breasts. There had been nights that lasted well into the next day where hours upon hours were spent with his face pressed between them, nuzzling and sucking and kissing at the tender flesh until you were both desperate and begging for more. You turn your head just enough to find his ear, kissing gently between your words. 

“Wanna fuck my tits, sweet boy?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, his jaw ticking with a slight grunt, and you think maybe he’s considering your offer, but then there’s a sharp pinch to your pebbled nipple through the thin cotton of your shirt, drawing a cry from your lips, bringing your pleasure back into sharp focus. He chuckles in your ear, teasing and sweet, before once again reaching for the remote. You sob into his neck, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but Javi shushes you gently even as he rewinds the movie back another few minutes. 

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408 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

#4

Waves Crashing

Summary: Javi comes back from a day of work and needs help with a little stress relief.

WC: 3.5K

Pairing: Javi G. x Female!Reader (established relationship)

Warnings: 18+ Minors be gone! Unprotected sex, angry sex, oral sex (female receiving), squirting, fingering, slight choking, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, cum play. Filth. Straight filth.

Notes: Big thanks to @jazzelsaur who definitely deserves more than 50% of the credit for this. Her big beautiful talented brain spewed thot after thot into my DM's and my smol dumb brain just did its very best.

I am sorry, mi amor.

Your back stings from the cool scrape of the stucco where it prickles your skin, the sheer fabric of your dress slipping down your shoulders with each thrust Javi makes, exposing your breasts to the sun. Javi holds you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping at the curve of your hip, the hard length of his cock fucking up into the tight heat of your core. There had been little explanation past his apology, only growls of Spanish breathed into your neck as he took out all of his rage on the tender shape of your body.

You had been dozing on the balcony just off his main suite, a lunchtime swim and the late afternoon sun soothing your aching muscles after another night spent with Javi between your legs. There were loose plans for a movie and dinner later that evening, plans you were sure would lead you right back to his bedroom, with zero complaint from either of you. You only hoped you could convince him to let his eyes close a little earlier tonight. He had looked so tired when he left for his meeting, the bags beneath his eyes more pronounced, his shoulders stiff where you brushed away any invisible wrinkles, and you wanted nothing more than to soothe away his worries the way he so easily did for you.

It seems clear now, his hips slotted perfectly against your own, bruises forming beneath his iron grip, that Javi has different plans in mind.

“Hold tight to me. Mi amor, please. Please,” he chokes out, teeth scraping behind your ear, giving a particularly deep thrust up, pulling a whine from between your teeth. Your walls tighten at the tone in his voice, rage dripping from the timbre of his accent, a wave of arousal coating his cock where if fills you up. His curls are wild, sweaty and twisted, falling down in front of his eyes. You’re desperate to push them back but you don’t dare disobey, arms instead wrapping around the thick cord of his neck, lips panting against the heat of his skin.

Your trembling fingers tangle in the thin white of his tank top and you moan again, remembering the look on his face as he stripped off the dark blue button up he had been wearing when he left you this morning. You had thought the somber color had seemed so unlike your Javi, too dark, too imposing, as if he had been forced to wear the mask of someone else. He had ripped at the buttons, the fabric falling away from his body and exposing the swell of his biceps to the late day sun. His face had been twisted, barely contained frustration simmering below the surface, fists clenching around the open air, begging for release.

You were all too happy to help him.

“Use me, Javi. You can use me.”

A dam breaks at your words, the simmer rolling into a boil, burning hot and swallowing you whole. He surrounds you, covers you, fills you full as he takes, takes more and more of you, until you can only cling helplessly and let him rut into the tight folds of your cunt. Your legs grip tighter, the dig of his belt cutting at your flesh, but you lean into the pain, the friction fighting back against the slick of sweat that clings behind your knees.

One hand finds your throat, wrapping around it, but never squeezing tight, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. But you feel it, that unspoken strength, a threat never spoken that, if he wanted to, he could take so much more than he does. His other hand sneaks between your bodies, finding your clit and pushing down as hard as he can, his hips still slamming up as sharply as he can manage from the awkward angle. It’s sloppy and frantic, a jumble of words, English and Spanish falling out of him, and still you see stars, fireworks bursting bright in the sun-dipped daylight.

“I need you to come, mi amor. Come now.”

Again you listen, the command in his voice clear. This was an order, and your body does not disobey. Your walls tighten, your fingers digging into the skin beneath the thin white cotton, finding the heat of his skin still, as you come around his cock, soaking his length in a release that belongs to only him. You scream his name as he fucks you into your first orgasm, talking you through it, his breath hot in your ear.

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411 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

#3

Affection in Row 16

Summary: On your flight to Spain you have a run-in with an adorable stranger.

WC: 2.5K

Pairing: Javi G. x GN!Reader

Warnings: Cuteness overload, fluffy fluff, and sugary sweet fitting the day. A little bit of cursing. Drinking. A plane ride?

Notes: Another moment where my brain got away from me. I was on a plane and thought 'hey what would Javi G. be like in coach?' This is what popped out. First time writing him. Please be gentle.

He looks lost. A true achievement considering the two feet wide walkway between the rows of seats that seems to have the man in front of you completely flummoxed, One glance at him- designer sunglasses resting atop luscious waves of brown all the way down to his perfectly pressed sport coat to the Gucci loafers on his feet- and you know this is not a man who normally flies coach.

If ever.

He’s standing in the aisle, staring at his ticket like he’s waiting for it to tell him where to sit, and you can physically feel the anger of the line of people growing steadily behind you. You want to be one of those people too but his broad shoulders and tan skin have sapped any and all fire from your veins, sending that feeling closer towards something like affection. You distinctly hear the word “jackass” and decide it’s best to step in now before someone with more piss in their veins than you takes aim at the sweet, but confused looking man.

“Sir,” you call out, gently tapping at his elbow. He turns with a start looking around wildly before coffee brown eyes finally land on you. His lips are parted around an apology but you smile, cutting him off before he can get the words out.

“Do you need some help?”

He visibly deflates, matching your smile, and oh, his whole face lights up with it. A dimple carves out a perfect little spot on his cheek and you have to physically stop yourself from reaching out for the curve of his face.

“Please,” he asks, a wonderful accent to the timber of his voice. You take his offered ticket and point him to his seat, internally thrilling when you see his row matches your own. You guide him to the right row, only a few more back from where you started, and point him to his seat, the one in the middle.

“I take it you don’t fly coach a whole lot?”

He laughs, deep and sweet, a caramel coated sound that you’re instantly addicted too as he settles in, tucking his leather bag safely down by his feet. You take your time stowing your small duffle bag in the overhead bin, willing your heart rate to slow and the heat in your cheeks to dissipate. You’re about to be on a flight next to this man for hours and you don’t even know his name. A crush is not on the agenda for today.

“This is obvious, yes?”

“Only a little,” you can’t help but tease, liking the way the pink spreads across his features. Bag safely tucked away, you shift back and forth on your feet awkwardly, eyeing his large frame, his knees bumping right into the seat in front of him. You definitely don’t picture how warm that thigh would feel beneath-

“There is a problem?”

His confusion saves you from your traitorous thoughts. You point to the seat between him and the window.

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422 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#2

You Have Me

Summary: The Mandalorian always takes you from behind.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader

WC: 1K

Warnings: 18+ Minords DNI, Canonical type violence, Unprotected p in v sex, slight dom behavoir, dirty talk, yearning. Honestly this one feels pretty tame.

A/N: Just a small piece that's been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a few weeks now. I missed my tin can man and was having feelings about him and his touch-starved need for intimacy but not knowing how to let himself have it.

The Mandalorian always takes you from behind. 

Hard and fast, his hips snapping into you, the sharp cut of his armor cold and unforgiving where it digs into the curve of your ass. One hand holds tight to your waist, the other wrapped tight around the slope of your neck. You can smell dirt and blood mixing with the warm smell of leather, strong and masculine and digging into your flesh. It’s almost automated at this point, your aching cunt clenching at the slightest tickle of him along your senses. 

Some would probably be embarrassed at the slick of arousal he ignites at the base of your spine. 

You’re too preoccupied with feeling everything else. 

Every inch of you is stripped bare, your naked body exposed to the cold filtered air of the Crest’s hull. At first, it had been intimidating. The unforgiving emptiness of the mandalorian’s ship, crates of supplies shoved to the side, blasters marks marring the walls. Now you couldn’t turn an eye on one single square foot of it without remembering the exact way the Mandalorian had taken you. 

Always hard. Always fast. 

Always from behind. 

You had begged him for a ride off Nevarro last time he had stopped in. You had heard the rumors; that he was sullen, gruff, not a taxi service. And yes, he was all of those things, easily so, but he was also tender. Gentle in his own little ways; ways you had caught onto quickly when he reluctantly agreed to let you board his ship. 

A blanket left for you on the co-pilot's chair. 

A stockpile of ration bars made with real honey. 

One gloved hand brushing the small of your back, a crowded market parting in his wake. 

And every once in a while, as he said goodbye to you before setting off on a hunt, the Mandalorian would lean his helmet in, catching himself just before the steel made contact with your skin. 

It was subtle. Something done out of instinct. 

A move so small that you’re sure you would have missed it if you weren’t so hyper aware of him, him, always him. 

You stand there long after he’s gone, staring at the space he had just been, wondering what it would feel like if, for once, he didn’t stop. If he let himself have this one little moment he so clearly wanted. This one single touch he hungered for but would not allow himself to have. 

Would the beskar feel just as cold pressed into your forehead as it did your backside? Would it sting an icy bite or would it be something more gentle — A hand on the small of your back instead of wrapped around your throat. 

His body curls around you now, hard edges pressing into your soft folds. You arch, your body bowing up and away from the steel wall of the Crest, aching for him to be closer somehow, even as fucks you deep. He scrapes you raw from the inside out, filling you up with all he has.

A whine breaks free from your lips, a jagged, high-pitched sound that seems to slip through the fingers around your neck. You hear him chuckle behind you, and suddenly his voice is in your ear, modulated and cold but you swear you can feel something else. 

“What do you need, mesh’la? Tell me.”

You can’t form the words. Can barely think them as the Mandalorian pulls you apart thrust by thrust. 

“I… I need…”

“Do you need to come?”

Fuck. 

Of course — of course — you need to come, and he would never deny you, never leave you wanting for anything that his body could so easily give. But you’ve grown greedy, desperate, and suddenly it’s not just about you cresting over the waves of pleasure. 

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641 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

In Knots

Summary: Din shows you how good he is with his hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader

WC: 2.3K

Warnings: 18+ Minords DNI, Canonical type violence, Unprotected p in v sex, fingering, slight dom behavoir, slight bdsm, bondage, dirty talk, cursing, helmetless Din, and some minor joking about Star Wars.

A/N: Sometimes, my husband and I make really absurd jokes about Star Wars. Case in point- what if Din kept bounty hunting and just decided to strap his bounties to the front of his ship like a hunter does with deer? Then of course I share this joke with my dearest @astroboots and @jazzelsaur and then things instantly got slutty. Let me be clear, this doesn't happen without either of them. Please go tell both of them how amazingly talented they are. Also, funny enough, this is the first time I've written Din Djarin smut (outside of an AU) soooo, yeah. *hides*

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719 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[wardenparker]

The Date

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Inspired by the already beloved Teacher Ben sketch from Pedro’s SNL appearance, this fic is dedicated to every single reader with a HUGE hug and a kiss straight from me to you. Just over about two weeks ago I passed the 2k follower mark and I am so incredibly humbled by everyone’s love and encouragement. Writing makes me happier than almost anything else in the world and I am blown away by the sheer number of you who stop by my little corner of the tumblrsphere to read the words that I produce along with my beloved @absurdthirst​. There is absolutely no end to our collaborations in sight and I am thrilled to keep rolling out fun stories week after week 🧡

Rating: Explicit! 18+  Word Count: 19.9k Warnings: Age gap (reader is an adult student of unspecified age), mentions of deceased spouse, awkward flirting, reader is bad with social cues, Marcus on a Motorcycle, using superpowers for foreplay, begging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex (superhero stamina).  Summary: After spending the semester becoming friends with your criminal justice professor, retired Heroic Marcus Moreno, it appears that your crush isn’t so unrequited after all. Notes: I was very sleepy doing this edit, so I’m sorry if I missed some things.

Sometimes you really do sit through classes waiting for a cartoonish sounding bell to ring and it’s just too bad. The general education classes that you have to take really aren’t your cup of tea, even though you know you need them for your degree and really should be paying attention. But you’re not going to need chemistry when you restart your career as a high school English teacher. Nor are you going to need the complex algebra and trigonometry that stumped you the first time you went to college. And you’re probably not going to need to understand the intricacies of the criminal justice system either - but this class was a little gift to yourself. 

The hottest professor you could have ever dreamt of in a three-times-a-week lecture that frequently includes anecdotes from his legendary career as the leader of the Heroics. Since the first day of this class it’s been like a real life version of the Indiana Jones scene where undergrads have love notes written on their eyelids and leave him gifts and notes hoping for a smidgen of extra attention, and you can’t really blame them. The thing is, the poor kids don’t stand a chance. He has a daughter nearly their age and couldn’t ever shake the feeling of how young they are. Or at least that’s what he told you the first time you sat together in the student union to eating lunch together after class. Marcus is sweet. He’s charming and maybe a little insecure socially, but when he stands up in front of the class he commands attention at the drop of a hat. He’s incredibly smart - genius, even - and he doesn’t make friends easily. That’s what he told you the fourth time you had lunch together in the student union after his class was over. Which is why you’ve kept your own crush a very tightly wrapped secret for the entire semester. You’re friends now, or at least very good acquaintances, and you wouldn’t jeopardize that for the world.

But next week is the final, and once that’s over you’ll have no excuse to sit and talk about your favourite books or how crazy his daughter is driving him now that she’s fifteen and learning to drive. Last week Missy had used the word girlfriend to refer to a girl in her friend group for the very first time and Marcus had nearly hyperventilated telling you about it. You’re friends. Loose ones, at least. And if you don’t screw up your courage and say something by next week, it might all go away. And you think you might regret that even more than not graduating college The first time you went, many years ago.

Marcus sighs as he flips the tie over his hand and pulls the knot through. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he does. Why he still wears a tie, he hasn’t quite worked out, but it’s a part of his routine and made him feel a bit more like the uniform he had worn for most of his life. If you called black jeans, a tac vest and double swords a uniform. Pushing the knot up to tighten it, he glances at the clock on his nightstand and curses. “Shit.” He had promised to grab you a coffee on the way into class and he doesn’t want to fuck that up. “Get moving, Moreno.”

The city buses are remarkably punctual today, getting you to campus twenty minutes before class instead of leaving you scrambling with just a few minutes to spare, and you take your time walking to the history building where his class is held. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you get to see Professor Moreno today. It’s going to be a good day. Whether it’s a brave day is still up for debate.

Marcus has a habit of frowning as he thinks. Shuffling papers on his desk as he mentally files through the itinerary for the day as he sips on the coffee he had gotten for himself. The other one on his desk was the triple shot, two pumps vanilla, one pump one chocolate, one pump raspberry latte that you had sworn was your favorite drink at the coffee shop he always stopped by. The fact that he ordered the same thing for himself to try was not going to be mentioned, but it was good.

“Morning.” Being a commuter is a boon today. There are no other students in the classroom when you open the door, and the man you only call Marcus in private is already sitting at his desk pouring over papers. The soft green tie matches the color in his plaid shirt and you smile reflexively. He’s so stunningly handsome, especially like this.

“Morning.” Immediately, Marcus looks up from his notes, standing up right after that as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. Being a fucking idiot is what he’s being, but at least he resists rolling his eyes at himself. “I see you’re early. Wanting that coffee Huh?” He asks, grinning slightly as he pushes the extra cup towards you.

“The bus was on time today.” The way he always seems to get flustered when he’s interrupted is adorable and you bite your lip to hold back a grin. “You really didn’t have to get my drink for me…but I appreciate it.” Your friendship has been built over a semester of these small gestures, and to say you didn’t love them would be an absolute lie.

“Caffeine is medically necessary.” Marcus jokes, picking up his own cup and taking another sip. It really is good, and he’s surprised by that considering he normally just drinks coffee black.

“It’s true.” Stepping further into the room, you pull one of the chairs away from the long tables that serve as desks and set it beside his desk at the front of the room to sit with him for a few minutes. “So…” The grin you flash him is teasing, but you are probably only going to get a few more times like this with him so you want to make the most of them. “How’s Missy and her girlfriend?”

Marcus shakes his head and winces. “I’m not okay with her dating.” He huffs, nearly pouting at the idea. “She was born like six months ago.”

“I just think it’s incredible that she came out to you so easily.” According to Marcus, he had come home from a day of teaching about a year ago to find Missy icing cupcakes with rainbow frosting as her own way of breaching the topic. It had been an immensely emotional night for them both. “Teenagers get rebellious over practically everything. It’s fantastic that she trusts you enough to tell you who she is and to tell you about this girl.”

“She knows I’m not going to change the way I look at her.” Marcus shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “She’s my little girl, and if I’m honest, there were signs since she was little.”

“That’s my point though.” You reason, picking up your coffee and humming at the taste. “She knows you love her no matter what. If I had come out to my parents at that age? I would have been lucky not to end up in therapy.”

“Oh, yeah, no, nothing like that at all.” It’s funny how swiftly the little arrow of intrigue or hope quickly pierced his heart. The small crush he had developed on you over the course of the class - despite the impropriety if it - crashing down. “I’m sorry you didn’t have supportive parents like that.”

“It’s fine now.” The way his face changes makes you want to scramble to recover, unsure of what you could possibly have said to upset him when you meant to pay him a compliment. “Being bisexual wasn’t even on their radar back then. They had no idea the word even existed let alone that it applied to their little girl.” You shrug, afraid you’ve offended him by accident. “I might as well have told them I was a Martian.”

Bisexual. While Marcus doesn’t sag in relief of the clarification, the angsty guilt over inappropriate thoughts of someone who would not be interested in a man ease. “It worked for Clark Kent, right? Though he was Krytonian.” He says, sending you a small smile. “No weirder than ‘hey mom, I can manipulate metal’. Right?”

“Honestly I think that would have been easier for her.” When you shrug again, you bury your face behind your coffee cup and studiously command yourself not to get too dreamy over that smile of his. “I just…you’re doing a great job. That’s all. Don’t downplay the fact that your teenage daughter is comfortable and confident in telling you who she is.”

“I never want her to feel like she can’t come to me for anything. Even if it was a boy and…birth control.” Marcus isn’t dumb, he knows what teenagers do, he was one of them once. Despite his Heroic future, hormones did drive a lot of his actions when he was around her age.

That earns him another small laugh from you, and you lean back in your chair. “Well I say points to this girl. If Missy’s anything like her dad then she’s amazing. And that means this girl is lucky as hell.”

He shuffles slightly, trying not to take the compliment for more than what it is. Reassurance. He lifts his coffee cup to his lips again to hide the grin he can’t quite suppress. “Thanks.” He murmurs. “Although it’s been a long time for me.”

“Oh?” It’s not as though you had dug through any of the gossip about him. That would have been disrespectful. But he was a well known celebrity when his wife passed away a few years ago and he had only stopped wearing his ring recently, by the band of untanned skin on his left finger. You had never pried for information, but you’re definitely curious.

He gives a small shrug of his shoulders. The pain of losing his late wife is still there, it always will be, but it’s not as devastating as it had been in the beginning. He would always love her, but he’s still living and she’s gone. “Not since Emily.” He confirms quietly. “Avoided the entire ‘widower pity sex’ that was surprisingly being pushed on me a lot more than I ever imagined.”

“I’m sorry things were pushed on you.” It’s not necessarily for you to apologize, but you can certainly express sympathy. “Being ready to put yourselves out there isn’t something you can rush. It takes time to heal.” Which is part of why you’ve kept your feelings deeply, deeply under wraps.

“A lot of it was because I needed time to heal, I didn’t want to change Missy’s life more than it already had been, and we were navigating our grief together.” Marcus had talked about a lot of this with his therapist, but it’s nice to have someone like you he can also talk to. “Plus, I was leaving the Heroics and starting to teach.”

“Your whole life changed.” You nod slightly, head bobbing with the motion. “When it changes again should be up to you and no one else.”

“Might be time.” Marcus admits, trying not to show how much that terrifies him. “Spend more time at home alone than I do with Missy. It’s…highlighted how reclusive I’ve become.”

"Might be?" You honestly would be embarrassed if he could hear how hard that makes your heart beat. It's not like he's talking about you, but you can't help the way it makes you feel.

“I’ve….thought about dating again.” He looks around the classroom for a moment before he finally looks at you again. “Think it’s a dumb idea?” He asks softly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. His hands are starting to dampen and he quickly slides them against his darker pants.

"Why would that be dumb?" It's baffling that he would even ask that, since he's easily the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life and an absolute angel of a human. "You deserve to be happy. Whatever that means for you. If dating against would make you happy, then..." Then you will dutifully sit and listen to him gush about whoever the luckiest woman in the world is, if he wants to stay friends. "Then whoever you choose will be incredibly lucky."

That buoys his confidence and he nods before he looks back down at his papers. “So-“

“Hey Professor Moreno!” His head snaps up to see one of the other students from your class practically bounce through the door, filled with nervous, flirty energy. He’s well aware that the girl had a crush on him and while he was flattered, she was vastly too young for him.

“Monica.” He greets her, making her beam as she slides over towards his desk. His eyes meet yours and he swears that he sees disappointment at being interrupted swimming in your orbs.

Right before the door opened you could have sworn he was going to say something to you - maybe even something sweet or flirtatious if your wildest dreams ever came true. But Monica is...determined...and she is right about to stare you down. "I should let you focus," you murmur, standing up with your coffee in one hand and your other on the back of your chair.

“You’re okay.” Marcus insists, actually more comfortable with you here rather than talking to Monica by herself. It was bad enough when she showed up for office hours. “What do you need?” He asks her, shifting into a more professional demeanor than he had with you.

"I was hoping to speak to you privately." Monica casts you a derisive glance and shifts her weight between her feet. "That's why I came early."

“Is it…about the coursework?” Marcus asks carefully. He doesn’t like the social aspect that some of the younger students try to draw him into.

"It is regarding senior week." Smoothing one hand down her front, Monica squares her shoulders and fairly glares at you. "I didn't think it would be appropriate to rub it in my classmate's face that she isn't graduating yet."

“It's fine." Even though you have no idea what you did to make Monica dislike you, you're not about to cause a fuss on the second-to-last day you might get to see Marcus. There's no room in your schedule next year to take one of his other classes and taking more criminal justice classes doesn't make any sense with your major anyway. You step back, taking your chair with you, to go put your books down at the table a few feet away.

“What can I help you with?” Marcus crosses his arms over his chest and frowns slightly. He doesn’t understand the animosity that seemingly rolls off of the younger girl towards you. It doesn’t make sense.

"As you know." Monica perks up immediately, feeling victorious at your retreat and Professor Moreno's attention being squarely on her. "Senior week always includes guests of honour from the staff and faculty." What she hopes he doesn't know is that the staff and faculty guests have already been chosen for the dinner dance. Otherwise her cover will be blown. "It would be very exciting if you would agree to come to the senior week dinner dance as a special guest." As her special guest, specifically, but Monica doesn't word it like that.

“Oh.” Marcus shuffles slightly and rocks on his heels as he looks around the classroom as he thinks about how to let this girl down. “While I am flattered…I am not able to attend.” He explains. “I am due to take my daughter to her grandparents across the state that night.”

"And it would be impossible to bring her earlier?" With a lack of understanding and empathy so obviously on display, Monica all but pouts. "It will be such a special night."

“I’m sure it will be.” Marcus frowns and his tone turns slightly frosty. “But my daughter will be getting out of school and wanting to see her mother’s parents.”

The young woman huffs, immaturity fully on display, and puts her hand on her hip like she's about to transform into a version of herself twenty years in the future that would be demanding to see his manager. "Whatever," she scoffs. "You have no idea what you'll be missing."

Marcus rocks his jaw, instantly transforming into the leader of the Heroics when he had dealt with the most stubborn of the other superhero’s. “Miss Anderson, I suggest you take your seat unless you wish to be dropped from the class.” He manages tightly. “Which will affect your own graduation date.”

The hmmphf from her is as pronounced as the pouty frown on her face, but Monica spins around, throwing you a dirty look in the process as she storms across the classroom to sit down and probably not pay much attention during this last study session Marcus will be leading.

Sighing softly, Marcus look down at the papers in front of him. Why couldn't someone just accept that a man who was old enough to be her father wasn't interested gracefully? He doesn't understand it.

His mood seems sour for the entire study session, and it’s not that you can’t understand why. Monica and the undergrad girls didn’t know how to take no for an answer, apparently. You do - at least you expect it - so you’ve just never asked the question. By the end of class you have to assume that his nerves are frayed and he won’t have the presence of mind for your usual lunch together, so you just start to pack up.

Once the class is over, Marcus looks over at you. Frowning slightly when he sees you move towards the door, he calls your name quickly. Unsure if you've changed your mind about walking to lunch together or if something has come up.

The last group of your classmates blows past you when you freeze three feet from the doorway and turn back. “I didn’t know if you’d be up to lunch,” you admit, feeling a little sheepish about it. “You seem preoccupied. I didn’t want to presume.”

"No, uh, I'm sorry." He deflates slightly and sighs. "I just- Monica." He gestures toward the door as if that explains it. "I don't understand. I'm too old for her."

“It’s a fantasy.” The way you shrug your shoulders is completely tense, like you have no intention whatsoever in admitting that you’ve had those same fantasies about him yourself. “They don’t see the reality of it. Only the glossy story they’ll tell their friends.”

"I guess." He won't deny that he had crushes on teachers and professors when he was younger, but he had never been so bold to think they would want him. "I just- I guess I think too much like a dad." He huffs at himself. "She's not that much older than Missy."

"I think that's thinking like a dad just the right amount." The door shuts behind the rest of your class and you shove your hands in your pockets with your bag high on your shoulder. "What did she...ask you? If you don't mind me asking?"

“She wanted me to go to the dinner dance as a special guest.” He picks up his own bag and tosses it on his shoulders. “Didn’t take the very polite ‘no’ very well.” He snorts. “She actually asked me if I could drop my daughter off at her grandparents another day.”

"That's...awkward." When you reach for the door handle this time it's to open it for him rather than to beat a hasty exit, and you follow him out the door. "And honestly, a little disrespectful."

“She doesn’t have to know that her grandparents live two hours away.” Marcus grins slyly, and shrugs.

"She shouldn't have been rude." The walk down the corridor is fairly quiet since the next class period has already started in this building, and you walk side-by-side with your professor one more time. "It was nice of you to try to let her down easy, even if she didn't let you, ultimately."

“I get having feelings you shouldn’t.” Marcus risks looking over at you for a second before he looks back down at the path in front of you. “For people you shouldn’t.”

“How so?” If you had seen him glance at you then you might have had some idea of what he meant, but you were busy trying not to trip over the obvious coffee spill left by a previous student.

Marcus sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he ignores the looks from the students as the two of you walk through the campus. He doesn’t see a lot of the adoration that seems to be thrown his way. “She’s…it’s not like a younger student or anything. Not like Monica.”

“Oh? Oh! You’ve been—?” You can’t help the way your whole face falls, registering that apparently he’s been seeing another student and you didn’t ever know. As fast as your silly schoolgirl crush has grown over the course of the semester, you can feel it being stamped out with every new step you take down the corridor together. “Well, she’s…she’s very lucky…” You choke out, shoving your hands into your pockets with determination.

“No! No, I haven’t - I can’t, it’s not—” Marcus groans. “She’s my student, I haven’t thought it was…appropriate to ask her out.” He rolls his eyes at himself, wondering where were those fucking balls of steel he had to have when saving the world when he needs them now. “I- it would have been wrong, right? But I have been thinking about it.”

“I mean…I guess it depends?” Even though it crushes your heart more than a little to debate this with him, he’s your friend and…and ultimately you want him to be happy. And some people might argue that that is a blaring siren for having feelings, but that’s a moot point now. “It’s the end of the semester, so…theoretically I guess it would depend on the relationship you have with this girl outside of…ya know…the classroom.”

"I think we're pretty good." Marcus inhales softly. "We've spent some time together, a lot less than I'd like, but I guess I don't know what she thinks about it."

“Then you should probably ask her.” And tonight, when you go home to pour yourself a glass of wine for studying, you’ll use your really big wine glass to mourn the passing of the chance you never got. “You can’t know unless you ask.”

"Yeah....." Fundamentally, Marcus knows that. And it's not like you are giving much away with your answers so he can't even use that to judge how you would react. "I need to, but I'm also worried about it changing things for the worse."

“I can’t see anyone turning you down,” you admit, feeling your voice drop a little and your shoulders slump. If you were brave enough to take your own advice, then you wouldn’t be walking at his side listening to him theorize about asking out another woman.

“So…..how do you feel about driving up the coast?” Marcus ventures softly. “Thought we could take a little ride, find a nice roadside spot to eat? Look out over the water.”

It takes you a long moment to register what he’s saying, but when you finally do, your head ticks up and you freeze in your steps, doing your best not to stare while you try to remember how to speak. “Wait, I— me?” You ask, so bewildered that your voice jumps and you’re pointing at your own chest. “You meant me?”

“Shit, I knew this was going to happen. You don’t- it’s okay.” Marcus quickly reassures you. “You don’t have to, I - it won’t affect your grade, they are done anyway. I- just forget I said anything, okay?”

“No! N-no, I meant— I didn’t realize you liked me, too.” And if you could bury your head in the ground in embarrassment right now, you absolutely would. “Please, you don’t…don’t take it back? I’d love to go.”

“Are you sure?” Both you and Marcus have stopped walking and he turns towards you. “I don’t- you don’t have to, I just- I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and….” He blows out a huff of laughter. “I’d like to get to know you more now that you aren’t my student.”

“I’m really sure.” If it were possible to show him exactly how much without seeming overeager - or worse, desperate - you absolutely would, but right now you’re just smiling so hard you feel like your face might split. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you too, and I…” Flustered, you end up laughing at the way the two of you stammer out insistences and reassurances, and you just nod. “Why don’t we say next weekend? Final will be over and I’ll officially no longer be your student in any way.”

“Missy will be with her grandparents.” Marcus nods. “And I’ll officially not be your professor. So there’s nothing improper about it anymore.”

“I don’t even think you’re capable of being improper.” The little tease makes you grin, knowing that you might have said it before but now it’s flirting.

Marcus flushes slightly, aware that some of his thoughts were far from proper. “You’d be surprised.” He huffs, both of you starting to walk towards the food court again.

“Oh yeah?” It seems so improbable, and you laugh softly while you walk. “Are you telling me the world’s most wholesome retired superhero has a rebellious side?”

Marcus snorts, “well, Emily was about three months pregnant with Missy when we got married…” He offers in way of proof. “And despite my mama’s objections, I still have my motorcycle.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re the one who has been Clark Kent-ing this whole time?” You raise an intrigued eyebrow at him as you walk, but keep your hand stuffed firmly in your pocket so you don’t do something stupid like reach for him out of excitement. “The real Marcus is wandering hands and engine grease?” Oh god…both versions sound amazing…

Marcus smirks at the comparison and there might be a slight air of cockiness to his shrug. “There’s a difference between the public image and the private man, let’s just say that.” He offers. This is why he’s enjoyed your company, he loves being able to talk to you. No expeditions, no judgment. It’s vastly different from a lot of his other interactions with people and he loves it.

"Color me intrigued." And honestly a little turned on, but you'll keep that to yourself for now. The dining hall is just up ahead and it's just beginning to be busy, as people like you and Marcus who are filing out of your midmorning classes are lured in by the smell of lunch.

“Is that a good intrigued or have 9-1-1 on speed dial intrigued?” Marcus jokes, lunging forward to open the door for you when you both get close enough.

You knew he would get the door. He always does. In fact, he glared at you when you had tried to do it yourself a few weeks ago - as though you should certainly know better by now. “I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. It could be fun. Or it might be terrifying.”

“Wellllllll, that was kinda the plan, if you want.” Marcus admits, a slightly boyish grin on his face. “Have you wrap your arms around me and hang on while we ride.”

“No dress. Got it.” Wrap your arms around him and hang on? Apparently when this man flirts he has the ability to make you weak in the knees and nearly pout with just a few sentences. “I have a very definite feeling that I’m going to like motorcycles.”

Marcus can’t help the slightly dirty way his grin turns. “Better than a washing machine.” He hums.

“Marcus!” The scandalized laugh that makes it out of you is practically giddy to see this side of him and you stick close to his side once you’re in the bustling main dining hall. “Maybe I do want to wear a dress, in that case.”

Marcus chuckles and looks over the options for the day and then at you. “What are you feeling today?” He asks. “They have that grilled chicken salad you like.”

“And they have gyro today,” you point up at the menu and offer him a shy smile, Realizing for the first time how much he’s really absorbed about you personally over the course of the semester. “Just try telling me that’s not your favorite. I dare you to lie.”

“Only because you start singing that song every time I sit down with it.” Marcus huffs, flushing slightly.

“‘Holding Out for a Gyro’ is the best parody song ever written.” You shrug your shoulders proudly. “Sorry, Weird Al. I win this one.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “And it’s funny every time I hear it.” He enjoyed the playful banter between the two of you. “If it’s aided by a delicious meal? That makes it even better.”

“Then I think we’ve got to do it.” He’s so relaxed now, and you wonder how many times when you were in line like this or sitting with coffee, did he feel the tension of attraction the same way you did? It’s a relief to know it wasn’t one sided after all. “For old time’s sake.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus shoots you a smirk, and nods towards your line. “Meet you at the table we normally have?” It’s not an assigned table, but the corner table is rarely occupied when you have lunch together.

"Absolutely." To have anything be both of yours sends a shiver of excitement through you and you try not to giggle or anything similarly giddy. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Making his way over to the correct station, he can’t help but seek you out. Telling himself that it’s just because he wants to make sure you aren’t waiting for him for too long, he can’t help but grin when your eyes find him and you smile.

You tell yourself that the butterflies are because it’s new, and because new is exciting. It’s not because you’re expecting anything, or even know if the date will go well. But your instincts are good and your intuition is worth listening to - and that gut you’ve spent years cultivating is telling you that this could be the start of something amazing if you let it.

You get your salad before Marcus gets his own food, making him watch you as he walks towards the table where you are already settling in. “Do you need napkins?” You always forget them and it’s a little habit that he has developed to grab more.

“You know I do.” He’s attentive. It’s something you’ve grown to appreciate about him during the time you’ve been getting to know him. “Just like I know you didn’t grab a fork and you’re going to regret it when that wrap gets messy halfway through.” The Extra fork on your tray is ready and waiting just like the extra napkins on his.

“Look at us playing to each other’s weaknesses.” Marcus chuckles, knowing that he will be using the fork. He always does and yet every time he doesn’t get one when the utensils are next to the napkins.

“I like to think of it as paying attention.” You counter, moving things around your tray to get it set up just the way you like. “We’ve both found each other worth paying attention to.”

“At least you also paid attention in class.” Marcus snorts, opening up the cup of extra tzatziki sauce he always asks for, along with extra pickled red onions. “You have one of the top five grades. Seriously, you should pursue criminal justice.”

“It would be a hell of a gear change from teaching high school English.” The cup of vinaigrette that comes with your chicken salad is unceremoniously dumped into the container and you pop the lid back on to shake it up and get everything evenly coated. “I honestly took the class because I love mysteries so much. I thought taking something about fighting crime would be fun.” You hadn’t even known who was teaching it when you signed up. Finding out you had Marcus for a professor was a delightful surprise.

“I think it’s a good idea to have everyone take at least one class.” Marcus knows you know this. It was basically his opening speech to his class. “Knowing about our system is necessary.”

"I completely agree." The discussions about how neither of you understand the resistance to understanding how the country you live in works have happened a few times over the last few months, usually in regard to a classmate saying something ignorant or someone illustrating a cultural difference between the US and the culture they grew up in. Discussions could either feel like you were banging your head against a wall or you could learn something truly interesting.

“So..” Marcus looks over at you as he scrapes the rest of the sauce out onto his gyro. “Are you ready for the summer? Or are you taking more courses?” He knows you are working towards your degree while working, so he’s not sure how it looks for you.

"I have a second job lined up for the summer. I'll keep busy and pocket as much money as I can." Working through the busy summer tourist season has always treated you well, and the company you work with has no problem accommodating your class schedule or your other job. "I'm on track to graduate next year as long as I don't run into a problem with any of my senior classes, so I'll spend my summer working and trying to get ahead in my reading if any of my professors are willing to hand out their reading lists early." It was the first email you always sent to a professor - asking if they wouldn't mind sending a reading list to you ahead of the start of the semester - and usually it helped establish you as a serious student early on. Being a slow reader meant you had to be prepared.

“Let me know what classes you are taking and I’ll be able to tell you what most of them have set out.” Marcus offers. “It’s good to have a jump on things.” It’s not just an offer because you’re going out on a date with him. He would offer it to any serious student. Just many of them hadn’t wanted to go beyond the unsubtle flirting.

“I’m a slow reader.” You shrug, digging your fork into your salad. “Taking a lot of classes that require extensive reading. Especially next year.” The first bite of your lunch is bright and crisp and refreshing as always, and you just let yourself enjoy it for a minute while you chew. “What about you?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “Any big summer plans with Missy?”

“Missy’s going to be with her grandparents most of the summer.” Marcus admits, hating that he will miss her, but she needs to spend time with Emily’s family. He was always welcomed, but he wanted her to bond with them without having dad hanging around.

“Oh?” He looks like he’s not thrilled with the idea, but you know how much he loves his daughter and he’s probably just aware of how much he’ll miss her - something you can’t blame him for in the least. That does, however, leave your mind open to think about very specific things…like spending the night together without having to worry about preteen eyes or ears.

“Yeah. So I’m going to be doing a lot of reading by the pool.” Marcus predicts. “Retirement from the Heroics left a lot of downtime that I hadn’t expected when I went into teaching.”

“It sounds relaxing, at least.” Would you kill to see Marcus lounging lazily, sunbathing shirtless with a book and a beer on any random summer day? It sounds like a dream. “If you want a change of scenery, sometimes the country club I work at gives us guest passes on slow days. You could read by a different pool if you wanted to?”

“So you’re inviting me to sit by your pool…” Marcus grins. “How good are your piña coladas?”

“Marcus I’m a bartender.” You pretend to be scandalized but just end up giggling when you take a sip of your drink. “My piña coladas are flawless, thank you very much.”

“I guess I will have to try them for myself.” Marcus teases, sending you a small wink. “Have you serving me frozen beverages all summer?”

"In my extremely sexy polo shirt and khaki shorts." The snort he gets from you is pure amusement, but the way you're smiling is so very, very pleased. Having him actively flirt with you is turning into a happy little puddle. "You'd be the only one actually allowed to leer."

“I will keep all my leering respectful.” He promises playfully. “Although you might be embarrassed to have such an old man flirt with you in public, even if you are used to it all the time.”

"If you're hanging out at the club this summer, then I'm assuming it will be because we've decided to keep seeing each other." And that thought alone makes you nearly giddy. "In which case I will be proud to have you respectfully leering while I work."

Marcus hums and picks up his gyro. “Then we will have to see if we are as good outside of ‘just friendly’ as I think we will be.” He tells you before he takes his first bite and groans at the flavors.

"I guess we will." You grin at him, forking up another bite of your lunch, and barely keep yourself from outright giggling. Next week can't come fast enough.

******

The nerves that come with getting ready for a ‘first date’ for the first time in nearly twenty years catches Marcus off guard. Panicking in the shower as he wonders if he’s made the date too casual, too presumptuous. What if you hate motorcycles? Should he just have made reservations somewhere? He runs through every single scenario in his mind until he’s nearly jittery.

He has no way of knowing that you've been sitting giddily in your apartment - busying yourself here and there with cleaning or changing your outfit four times or staring at the first page of a new book for a half hour and only reading the same sentence over and over again because you're too excited to focus. As seven o'clock ticks closer and closer, there is just less and less chance of you concentrating on anything except thinking of Marcus.

The ride over to your apartment complex is easy and surprisingly quick. You don’t live too far away from him and the implications that spring from that have him reminding himself that it’s just the first date. Swinging his leg over the bike as he shuts it off, he smirks to himself as he looks back at the helmet he had strapped to the back for you to wear. It’s a gorgeous evening for a ride and the setting sun in a few hours would look amazing as you cruise along the coast.

You practically jump when the buzzer goes off, beating a hasty route from the bathroom mirror - where you were quadruple checking the claim that your new lipstick is transfer-proof - to the hall. “Hello?” Trying to sound carefree instead of out of breath, your voice pitches up one too many octaves when you press the button to answer.

“Hey.” Marcus grins at how breathless you sound, wondering if you are just as nervous as he is. “Can I come up, or do you want me to wait down here?” If you decide to just come down, that’s completely your choice and he won’t judge you either way.

"Come on up!" Having decided thirty seconds ago to change your shoes from flats to boots for the sake of the bike you hope he brought, you push the buzzer to let him in and scramble to your bedroom to grab your knee-high boots.

Marcus grins, opening the door and deciding to take the stairs rather than wait for the elevator since you are only on the second floor. Eager to see you and get the date started. The only reason there aren’t flowers in his hand, is because they wouldn’t survive the ride over but maybe the one flower he does have silk charm you.

The knock on your door comes barely two minutes later and you've barely zipped up your boots when you answer it. Marcus has always dressed up for his time on campus, but today he has a leather jacket thrown over his untucked green button-up and boots peeking out from under his jeans where he would normally wear Oxford. The difference is slight, but it's mouthwatering. "Hey." One little word, but it's all you can manage when you're grinning from ear to ear like a lunatic. "Come on in."

“Hey.” He wipes his hands on his pants, slightly nervous as he steps inside. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a date and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. “You look great. Like really good.” He compliments.

“So do you.” He’s so obviously nervous that it makes you smile, relaxing in the moment when you remember how long it’s been for him. Having you be equally nervous isn’t going to help him at all. “Let me just grab my purse and we can head out?”

“Sure.” Marcus clears his throat and reaches into the pocket of his riding jacket. “So flowers, fresh beautiful ones, are standard for a first date - but they wouldn’t have survived the ride over.” He offers as he pulls out the lone metal rose he had brought you. “So I hope you aren’t disappointed by this.”

“Marcus…” Twisted and pulled from glossy metal into the form of a single blooming rose, the bud is a gorgeous example of artistry all on its own. It speaks to care because it’s so delicate, and an eye for beauty, and you gasp softly when you accept it from his hands. “It’s stunning.”

“I made it.” Why did he just volunteer that? He huffs slightly at his fucking inability to act like a normal man for just one second. “It’s- yeah, I just wanted you to have a flower.”

“Just because you don’t wear a uniform anymore, that doesn’t change who you are as a person.” It’s part of why you like him so much, if you’re honest with yourself. His being a hero isn’t all about his powers. He is fundamentally a good man.

“That’s very true.” He likes the fact that you have a very practical mindset about it. Some wouldn’t and it just means you are even more special than he had anticipated.

Out on the sidewalk in front of your building, his bike is easy to spot. The lone motorcycle in a parking lot of practical and family vehicles, it practically screams to be noticed and you love it. “I was hoping you were serious about bringing it.”

“Good.” Marcus practically beams at giddiness in your eyes. “It’s been a while since I’ve had time to go for a ride and figured it would be the perfect evening for it.”

“Absolutely perfect.” You couldn’t agree more, happily taking the second helmet from the back of his bike when he hands it to you.

Once you are as safe as you can be, Marcus straddles the bike and pulls it off the standing peg. “Get on behind me and hang on as tight as you want.”

“Dangerous thing to say to the woman who’s had a crush on you for the better part of five months.” The gentle laugh as you carefully climb into the back of the bike and wrap your arms around him is mostly teasing - but only mostly. Because you’d been lusting after him on TV for a lot longer than that.

Marcus chuckles as he starts the bike with a loud roar. Maybe showing off just slightly. He has backed into the parking spot so he can just take off with the twist of his wrist and he grins at the bubble of giggling that bursts out behind him as your arms tighten instinctively.

It’s a quick zip from your building to the Pacific Coast Highway. No more than a few minutes in the residential area puts you out enjoying the Southern California’ coastal salt air instead of smog. Each turn he takes hits right in the pit of your stomach and brings another bubble of giggles from your throat and you just hope he can hear them over the roar of the engine. Even if the night was just this - just riding around with him as your anchor - you would completely love it.

Marcus doesn’t try to speed and break your neck as he coasts along the Highway. This is about the leisure of the trip. Enjoying the scenery and he can feel you gasp when he takes one hand off the handlebars to point out some whales breaching just off the rocky coast.

It’s silly. It’s silly to worry. You’re with one of the world’s only literal superheroes. Nothing is going to happen to you. But you still clutch him a little bit tighter whenever he lets go of the handlebars to point. The smile on his face is free and easy and he seems to love the gasps from your lips, so you don’t bother feeling embarrassed. If you were nervous it’s already melted away. Being with Marcus is easy.

He doesn’t know how long you cruise, maybe an hour, hour and a half before he throttle down slightly. “When you see somewhere you want to eat, let me know!” He turns his head back towards you and shouts it so you can hear.

A little further up the road, a brightly painted seafood shack with a cartoon lobster wearing a captain’s hat on its sign. “Right there!” You call through the engine and wind noise, barely letting go of him long enough to point. It looks unpretentious and like it hasn’t changed owners or gimmicks in decades. Perfect for your breezy, relaxed evening ride.

“Okay.” Marcus immediately slows down more, letting go of the handle bars again to give the signal for his turn as he guides the two of you into the parking lot.

You could swear you’re still vibrating when he cuts the engine and your feet are on solid ground again, but it’s not rattling or uncomfortable. It’s like a very tangible adrenaline buzz running all through your body and - yes, definitely shooting right between your legs.

“You okay?” Marcus asks as soon as he takes off his own helmet and sets it down on the back of the bike. It might not be cool to some to wear protection, but he’s got his daughter to think of. And despite his best efforts at trying to stay inconspicuous, sometimes he was photographed in public, not the example he wants to set for the younger generations.

“That was amazing.” The shit-eating grin on your face promises that you’re not lying, and you let him gently unbuckle your helmet to lift it away and set it with his as you stand up.

“Well, why don’t we have whatever tickles our fancy and then we can find a shaved ice place or ice cream stand?” He offers.

"Sounds pretty perfect." A dressed down night like this - something that's more about who you're with than what you're doing - is exactly the right kind of first date to you.

“Good.” His hand finds your back, up under your jacket by sheer coincidence as he moves you towards the small shack. “Maybe we can eat outside?” He offers.

"Why eat by the ocean if you can't see the water at the same time?" His hand is warm through the thin material of your dress and you unconsciously shift closer to him as you walk inside.

“My thoughts exactly.” Marcus grins. “Order a beer if you want, I’m going to have a soda since I’m the one driving.”

The place is simple - just a window with a huge menu board over it where you place your order and a counter a few yards down where you can pick up your filled order when your name is called. Tables inside are simple plastic with matching chairs, and outside there are picnic tables to extend the seating by another dozen or so tables. A plate of fish tacos and local beer sounds like the most Californian meal you've eaten in a long time, and perfect for tonight.

“God, everything smells so good.” He groans, practically drooling at the menu board. “Do you want to get a bunch of things and split them?” He asks.

"You're on." By the time you get up to the window to order you've picked out three or four things that sound amazing - not the least of which is the fish tacos which are marked on the menu as award winning. Your beer will be on the tray when it comes up but Marcus is given a cup for his soda and is pointed toward the drink fountain while you wait.

"What kind goes best with what we ordered?" He hums playfully as he surveys the soda options. There are a few but he's just playing around, seeing if you will point out your favorite. His theory is that you would take a sip of it if he picks that one. So you just aren't drinking beer.

“Hmmmm.” Pretending to think excruciatingly hard about it, you shrug your shoulders playfully and tap the Sprite logo currently staring you in the face. “It’s a palate cleanser,” you reason when he raises one eyebrow to ask for an explanation. “Bright, citrusy, sweet but not as heavy as Mountain Dew or root beer.” It’s also your favorite, but he doesn’t need to know that. Having a favorite soda is silly at your age.

"Good choice." Marcus actually agrees with your assessment and immediately starts adding ice so he can fill the cup with Sprite. "Kind of like having white wine with chicken or beer with chicken wings." He grins and winks at you as he fills the cup.

“The extremely low rent version of that,” you laugh though, leaning against the counter as he fills his cup. “But I like the low rent versions of things. Just because something is fussier doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better.”

"I always believe there are times to be fancy and then there are times to just be...happy." Marcus shrugs. "I figured that the first date should be easy and light, not stuffy in a fancy restaurant where we are bored to death and unable to find things to eat that we can pronounce."

"Now that is a theory I can get behind entirely." You snag him a paper straw from the container next to the drink dispenser and send him one of those winks that he seems so fond of, just to be playful. "Although I do speak passable Italian."

"You do?" That is new information and he's delighted to learn that. It's charming to know that about you and he grins as he nods. "I can see it. Have you traveled to Italy?"

"I never got to." It's a regret, to be sure, but you made up your mind a while ago to not let those things drag you down anymore. It's been too long. "The first time I was in college, I was an art history major. Most of my focus was on the Italian Renaissance, so Italian was kind of necessary."

“I see.” Marcus nods. “Maybe you will be able to visit once you have your degree.” He offers, knowing that traveling to foreign countries is important.

"Once I have my degree this time, I hope I'll be able to find a good job." The best you can really do is shrug, pretending that you hadn't had to set aside several lifelong dreams when you dropped out of college the first time around. As short a life as it had been then, you've always been a dreamer. "It's okay." Not wanting to bring the mood down, you offer him a sunny smile and turn to wait for his name to be called at the counter. "I'll get there someday."

"I don't doubt it for a second." Marcus promises you with a smile. You are tenacious and he knows you will make it happen for yourself. "How many more of your classes are you shy of graduating?" He asks, as he stands beside you.

"Seven." It sounds like so much and so little all at once, and you stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket to resist the insane urge you have to hold his hand. "One more full year, basically. But I have a spot open in case I don't pass something this semester and need to retake."

"That's a smart thing to do." He is impressed with the way that you are thinking ahead. "Sometimes you don't pass the first time around, I know I couldn't pass my freshman statistics course to save my life."

“I took Intro to Botany for my science general ed thinking it would at least be interesting.” But from your cringe, he can tell that that isn’t true. “It turned out to be both insanely difficult and insanely boring. Which is a shame.”

"Yeah...." Marcus shakes his head. "I'm not the biggest fan of that class." He doesn't like professor Issacs, but you don't need to know that. He's never particularly cared for him, finding him pompous and egotistical without contributing much to the faculty. He seemed to make the course load harder for his students than it needed to be.

“Well, if Isaacs decides to flunk me, it’ll be Earth Sciences in fall, instead.” Which you probably should have done in the first place, but hindsight is 20/20 and all that. “How’s your grading looking? Staring down the barrel of a hundred and fifty tests and papers?”

"I actually have it down to a science." Marcus tells you with a small grin. "I should be done with grading by Sunday at the latest."

“Look at you, Professor Smarty Pants. You’ll have to teach me your tricks if I ever actually become a teacher.” You tease, grinning when the girl behind the counter calls his name, looks up, and recognizes him.

“Moreno?” She asks, stunned and wide eyes. “Marcus Moreno?” Her voice manages to go up several octaves. “I- oh my god!”

Taking his drink and grabbing some napkins and utensils is the most helpful thing you can do, and you watch with a smile as Marcus shakes the girl’s hand and chats with her for a second before grabbing the tray with your dinner. He’s in his element with people - any kind of people - and you always get a warm sort of pride whenever you’re with him when he’s recognized. Despite having no claim on him but friendship, you’re still proud of him.

Marcus listens to the girl gush, he had apparently saved her about five years ago, right before he had quit going out into the field with the other Heroics. Making him recall the incident and he smiles as she thanks him for what he had done, shaking his head and claiming that it had been nothing. Grateful that you aren’t annoyed that he’s having time taken away from the date. When he finally comes back over to you, he gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You push the door open to go outside and let him go through first with the tray. “You’ve saved people's lives. You saved that girl’s life. That’s no small thing. Not at all.”

“It’s bad, but I don’t remember her.” Marcus feels guilty, but it’s the truth. There were a lot of people that day.

“And she never has to know that.” There is one picnic table closer to the water than the others, and you both move toward it instinctively. “I can’t imagine you remembering every person you ever saved. But I’m sure they'll all remember you for the rest of their lives.”

“It’s daunting.” Marcus admits. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I don’t crave attention.” He snorts. “I’m not Miracle Guy.”

“No one is.” You smirk, knowing Miracle Guy’s reputation for tooting his own horn.

Marcus chuckles at your expression and shrugs slightly. “He’s got quite the fan club.”

“And he loves it. But fame isn’t everyone’s first choice.” At the table you set everything out between you and sit side by side so you can both look out over the water while you eat. “For what it’s worth? I like you just as you are.”

“Well thank you.” Marcus moves your beer over to you and grins. “While we eat, maybe you can tell me why you chose teaching?”

“Have we never talked about that?” He shakes his head when you ask and you pop the cap off your beer. “Teaching was always on my radar.” You tell him, figuring that’s the best place to start. “I thought about teaching art, originally. But when I was taking care of my mom…the thing that she had the most energy for was books. We would read together constantly, until it was just me reading to hear and we would talk about every chapter and every book together. It was our own private book club, and I fell in love with literature all over again.”

"I like that." Marcus hates the fact that it seems like your mother is gone, he can't even imagine losing his mother right now although his father died when he was twelve, but he reaches out and takes your hand. "I'm sure that those memories are the ones that she cherished the most." He murmurs softly.

It’s not exactly the way you wanted it to happen - out of sympathy instead of excitement - but you look down at his large hands covering yours and smile. “She was my best friend,” you tell him, aware that your voice has dropped a little. “And I just hope I’m making her proud.”

“Doing exactly what you want to do and living your life how you want to live it is exactly what would make a parent proud.” He knows not all parents subscribe to that, but he feels like your mother would, considering how you’ve turned out.

“Thanks.” You shake your head, almost trying to release the cobwebs from the corners of your mind. “Sorry…I…I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

“You’re not bringing the mood down.” Marcus assures you, almost instantly. “Talking about our lives and what has happened is learning about each other. It’s the human condition that none of us are without personal tragedy.”

“I suppose.” Not wanting to let go just yet, you take a sip of your drink with your other hand. “Although most men would not feel that way on a first date. So thank you for being your compassionate self.”

“I am no stranger to things like this.” Marcus reminds you softly. “Do you know how many people hit on me at my wife’s funeral? And then didn’t understand why I was angry at them?”

“Are you serious?” The worst part is that you can imagine it. People offering to comfort the grieving widower with varying degrees of subtlety and lewdness. “That’s…that’s despicable, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s done.” Marcus rubs his thumb in the back of your hand gently. “But I’ve learned that there are really good people in the world too, and you’re one of them.” He tells you with a soft smile.

“I really like you.” Though it comes out inelegantly, and you can feel your cheeks burn when you fear it, the sentiment is honest. “I mean…obviously. Since I’m here with you. But I guess I mean…I’m glad that you feel that way. Because the time that I’ve been able to spend with you is the happiest that I’ve been in a really long time.”

"That's good." He lights up, grinning broadly and can't quite hide the way his chest puffs out slightly at your praise of him and the time you have spent together. A lot of it has been innocent but it's a building block for what he wants. More.

With the air slightly clearer between you, you dig into your dinner with enthusiasm. The little roadside seafood shack is playing with no less than its A-game so everything is fresh and delicious. The sea is calm, treating you to crisp breezes and the occasional creature-sighting, and little joke after little joke piles up to have you both in a fit of giggles by the time the meal winds down. In your entire life a first date has never been this relaxed or fun, and you're starting to think that maybe you've just been dating the wrong people all along.

Marcus leans back and sighs. “Well, want to continue on and find our dessert stand?” He asks playfully, rubbing his stomach. “Or do you not have room?”

"There is always room for dessert." You tell him, with an air that you're giving some kind of sage wisdom. "Especially cold desserts on warm nights." It will be sundown soon and the mid-May sun is only just starting to lose power. "Do you know a place or are we driving until we find one?" Either way is fine with you. Either way is time spent with him.

“I’m kinda winging it.” Marcus admits with a grin. “Trying to be more spontaneous? Missy said I shouldn’t plan everything out like I do normally.”

"You told Missy?" Admittedly, you had been afraid to ask if he was going to or not, knowing that his relationship with his daughter means the world to him. You wouldn't have been surprised or offended if he had chosen to hold off on telling her about you until it became more serious. The fact that he did - that you seem to be important enough to him to have her know about you - floods you with warmth and joy.

“She’s the one that told me I needed to stop…how did she put it? “Being a wuss’  and ask you out.” He chuckles as he stands from the table and picks up the tray that you’ve both deposited all the trash from your dinner onto. He’ll throw it away and return the tray before getting back on the bike with you.

"Your daughter and my roommate." You can't help but chuckle a little, walking with him to the trash bins to chuck your beer bottle in the recycles. "Well...I'm glad one of us listened to our advice giver. I'm pretty sure I would have been too chicken when push came to shove."

“I was half convinced that I was making up the entire thing in my head.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “That maybe you just felt sorry for me and that’s why you ate lunch with me.”

"Not at all." The fact that he thought it, though, shows his humility. "Actually, at first I thought the reverse. That you were taking pity on your weird student who was older than everybody else by being friendly."

“God no.” Marcus breathes out. “You saved my sanity. Having someone who was understanding that it’s insane for all these girls to be wanting me?” He rolls his eyes. “There’s a group of them that started calling me ‘daddy’ and I just-“ he shrugs and laughs in that defeated and disbelieving kind of way. “Why?”

When you snort to keep from bursting out laughing, you can only hold up your hand to apologize. “Marcus, it’s because you’re hot. A sexy guy in a position of authority with a nurturing personality is a recipe for being a daddy.”

“But…I—” He trails off and his eyes widen slightly in realization. “Dear God.” He huffs after a long moment of silence.

“It’s a compliment,” you promise, looping your arm around him and hugging him while you desperately try to keep the laughter inside. “A slightly weird one, but a compliment nonetheless.”

“They do realize that I would never actually….date them, right?” He asks. “It would be so wrong.” Most of his class are seniors but the age gap widens every year and now there’s only three or four years between the freshman class and his daughter.

“The reasonable ones do. The less reasonable ones don’t care. That’s not the point.” Together you walk back around the tiny restaurant and out to the parking lot, but Marcus doesn’t move away from you so you keep your hand on him while you go. “They’ll get it out of their systems eventually and then you won’t have to hear it anymore. Besides, I think the ringleaders of that particular nickname are all graduating this year.” One of them was Monica, you know that for sure. But she’ll be graduated and gone in no time.

“Hopefully.” Marcus looks over at you, “although I wouldn’t mind a certain former student dropping by sometimes when she has time.” He teases.

“Oh yeah?” You smirk, unable to resist screwing with him just a little. “I’ll let Monica know. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Do it and you’ll buy your own ice cream.” Marcus threatens playfully. He doesn’t mean it, but the idea of Monica haunting his office hours after graduation is almost enough to make his time by virtual connection only.

“That’s a very serious threat, you know.” You’re giggling when you make it to his bike, practically doubled over with it just from the mortified look on his face. “Of course I’ll drop by office hours. How else am I going to say hi?” Doing your best not to count on anything - or to get your hopes up too high - you have ended up just sort of assuming that he won’t want to go on another date after tonight. That it will be too weird for him or you won’t be as good as what he has built up in his mind before now. It’s helping to keep your expectations grounded, because your hopes are already imagining what it will be like to get to know his daughter.

“Welllllllll, I guess we could communicate through mirrors and reflections, smoke signals, or pigeon carriers.” Marcus snorts. “But I was hoping it would include the occasional phone call, or visit in person. I’ll even text.”

"I would pay money to see Missy teaching you how to text." That starts up the giggles again, but in a much more lighthearted way. "Look, Marcus..." You manage not to sigh, thank god, but your tone does trend a bit more serious. All fears aside for you, you know that he hasn't dated in an extremely long time and deserves some reassurance. "I told you that I really like you and I meant it. So if you decide you want to keep seeing me after tonight? I'm a commitment girl. So dropping by your office with snacks or to spend some time together will be a given."

“I know how to text.” Marcus grumbles, pouting at you slightly. “I just don’t. There’s no inflection. And how can I convey emotion?” He reaches out to take the helmet you had worn off the back of the bike to put it back on you. “I think this date is going really well, how about you?” He asks. “So I don’t know why I wouldn’t want to see you again.”

"If I tell you that I'm having a great night but trying not to set my expectations too high, do I get to see that cute pout again?" The fact that he sets the helmet on you and buckles it in place so he knows you're safe is about the cutest thing ever.

Just to get you to grin again, he does the pout again. Holding it for a few seconds before he shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I was thinking that you should set the expectations sky high.” He rumbles dramatically.

'My hopes are sky high," you assure him, feeling daring enough to reach out and touch his arm again even if it's only briefly. "But I know this is a big step for you, so I didn't want you to feel pressured."

“I don’t.” He promises, reaching up and chucking your chin softly before he glances down at your lips. “Not at all. Although there’s some pressure, it’s not something you have to worry about unless you want to.”

"What do you mean?" Tilting your head to one side, you don't miss the way he glances down at your lips, though the innuendo goes straight over your head.

He chuckles quietly and lets go of your chin. “I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself.” He teases, turning back and grabbing his own helmet. “Let me know when you got it worked out.”

"Well that's not fair." It's your turn to pout now, just as playfully. "I have no talent for double meanings, if my roommate is to be believed."

“Really?” He turns back around and smirks at you. “If you don’t figure it out by the time I drop you off at your place, I’ll let you in on the pressure.”

"You're enjoying this too much." But it's amusing rather than anything else, and you nudge him playfully.

“Maybe a little.” He chuckles as he climbs back on the bike and motions you over. “Climb back on, sweetheart.”

If teasing you is what keeps that smile on his face then you are all for it. You just shake your head to make him laugh again and swing your leg back over the back of his bike. Your arms slide easily around his waist this time with no hesitation in the thing, and you giggle all over again when the engine roars to life.

“Want to go a little faster this time?” Marcus yells over his shoulder.

"Go for it!" There's no question you'll be safe with him, and the adrenaline from the ride is definitely worth it, so you just hold on a little tighter.

“Hang on!” Marcus laughs as he kicks the peg up and twists the throttle of the bike hard enough to lurch you out of the parking spot and make you squeal in surprise.

Back on the highway Marcus picks up the pace, moving you through traffic with expert handling and a fearlessness that goes straight past anything worrying and directly to being such a damn turn on.

This time there’s less talking, more wind buffering around you. Marcus loves the feeling of it, having spent plenty of time wishing he had the skill of flying like Miracle Guy, but this is a close second. He grins as you squeeze him tight and he lets go of one handlebar to cover your hands with his own as he carries you further up the coast.

The colors of sunset are just starting to appear on the horizon when Marcus points out a sign for an ice cream stand up ahead. His hand has been warm on yours whenever it's been safe for him to have it there, and you could swear that the warmth radiating off of him in waves has changed somehow. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Throttling down, he pulls into the parking lot of the ice cream stand, happy that it seems moderately busy on this beautiful night. Even better, there’s benches facing the ocean to sit and eat. “Now are you a sundae kind of girl or a cone?” He asks playfully.

"Yes to both," you laugh honestly. You both take off your helmets and pop off the bike to stretch your legs, but stick close to each other while other people bustle around having fun. "But tonight feels like a cone night. Much easier for sitting and watching the water with."

“I agree.” Marcus can’t help but touch you again, keeping his hand on your back again. “Figure once we finish up here, we’ll turn around and start heading back to L.A. Don’t want you too sore from riding too long.”

"Sure. We got a perfect night for a few more hours of driving." Though you have no desire to see the night end, you're not trying to monopolize every second of his time. Or at least you wouldn't admit to wanting it. For now you just keep close and lean into his side a little as you stroll toward the stand overlooking the water.

“It’s also a good reason to stop at these stands.” He looks over at you and smirks. “If you aren’t used to it, it’s a real workout on your hips and thighs.”

"Some things are worth being sore for." It's amazing the way you miss even your own innuendo, but there it is. The words don't even register a second meaning on their way out of your mouth.

Marcus waits a beat for you to smirk, but you don’t. Giving credence to your claim that you don’t get secondary meanings. “Yep.” He chuckles. “Let’s figure out what ice cream we want.”

"I'm going to guess...pistachio for you." You glance up at him when you get into line and raise an eyebrow. "Or Rocky Road? Something classic."

“Actually…” Marcus smiles as he glances at the list of flavors. “I was thinking the sinful Caramel truffle swirl.” He admits.

"Ooh, we're going for something fancy tonight." It might be the mood or the sunset, but he is just remarkably handsome tonight. "Sounds tasty."

“You always go fancy with ice cream.” Marcus laughs. “Or red velvet, peanut butter cup mashup?”

"Red velvet and caramel swirl mash up?" Suddenly it's a game, playing with pairings, and his hand on your back has slipped to your waist making you feel giddy like you're still flying on that bike with him.

“Orrrr the banana flavored ice cream with peanut butter, chocolate chips and caramel swirl?” He asks, nearly drooling at the combinations they offer.

"The Elvis. Always a classic." All it's missing is bacon, and you would absolutely use that as a sundae topping. "I say we pick two and swap halfway through. Best of both worlds."

Marcus grins slowly and nods. “Sounds like a plan to me.” His fingers tighten on your waist slightly as you both turn back towards the window and step up to order. “Ladies first.” He murmurs to you.

You end up ordering coffee cookies and cream and Marcus gets the Elvis-inspired concoction that had him drooling, and within minutes you’re scouting for a place to sit in the small army of benches overlooking the water. The pinks, purples, and orange in the sky are a watercolor collage of the perfect sunset, and the smattering of other couples who also chose to stop here on their dates have given the place a more romantic feel than a little seaside ice cream stand probably ever would ever have on its own.

“Sooooo.” Marcus guides you over to the benches, the girl behind the window assuring them that they will bring the ice cream to you. “How is the view?” He asks, sitting down besides you and offering his hand. If you want to take it, you have the option.

“I think it might be my new favorite.” In fact, you’re so busy admiring his profile against the colorful sky that you almost miss his proffered hand. Almost. But you slip your hand into his larger one with a shy smile, relishing the simple intimacy.

Marcus isn’t looking at the sunset. Instead his eyes are on you. “Mine too.” He promises, curling his fingers around yours protectively.

“Yeah?” You’re both the same kind of sappy, it seems, and the smile on your face widens immeasurably. Your cheeks are going to ache from it tomorrow but you couldn’t care less. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything else, just letting both of you settle back and watch the light play over the water. His hand doesn’t leave yours and he sighs softly. “The view of the water is nice too.”

A laugh - small and breathy - cracks your dreamy expression and you manage to thank the teenage girl who brings over your ice cream when she arrives a moment later. “Yes,” you grin at him, nearly giggling. “The water is nice, too.”

The first bite of the creamy, sweet ice cream makes Marcus moan, rolling his eyes back. “Holy shit.” He groans, taking another lick of the confection. “I know we’re trading but you have to try this now.” Having the perfect dessert almost makes up for having to let go of your hand. Almost.

“That good?” You ask, and he nods when he holds it out to you. It’s messier than you're proud of, that first taste, but you groan right along with him and let your eyes float shut happily. “Holy shit, it is that good.”

“Right?” He’s practically giddy as he takes another bite of it happily. “This is definitely a place to come back to again one night.”

“Absolutely.” The first bite of your own cone is just as good, and you moan again happily. “If it’s all this good then we’ll have to come back with Missy.”

“Missy will insist on it.” Marcus chuckles. “That girl has never met an ice cream flavor she didn’t love. She even eats mint chocolate chip.” He makes a face and grins at you.

“Mint chocolate chip is delicious!” You protest immediately, making him just grimace even more dramatically. “Fine, more for me and Missy, then. You’re the one missing out.”

“I will happily miss out.” He promises you. “I don’t care for the taste of toothpaste with my chocolate.”

“How about coffee and Oreos?” Offering him a first taste of your ice cream is only fair since you’d had one of his, but more than anything you’re just enjoying the easy teasing between you.

“Now you’re speaking my language.” Marcus doesn’t hesitate in sampling the cone you offer him and he groans happily. “God.”

“Right?” You laugh, trying to ignore the way the sounds reverberate through you anytime Marcus groans or moans over delicious food. “We have to come back. Gotta try every flavor.”

“Absolutely. Although with Missy coming, we’ll have to trade the motorcycle for the car.” He doesn’t mind it, and to be honest, he likes that you want to include his daughter.

“I don’t mind.” Spending time with his daughter is more important than how you travel, and honestly you’re not sure you’ll be composed enough for family bonding with how fucking wet riding that bike has made you. “The bike can be for when it’s just us.”

“I like the way you think.” Marcus smirks slightly and takes another bite of his ice cream.

“After all…” When you smirk at him it’s devious. “I don’t think the bike would be considered very ‘Daddy’ of you.”

He snorts, nearly choking on the melted cream of his dessert. “That’s just mean.”

“Me? Mean?” You blink at him innocently, with your eyes as wide as they’ll go. “Never! But tease? Absolutely.”

“So you tease but you don’t get the dirty meanings behind comments?” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Interesting.”

“I guess I just…never expect anyone to make dirty comments to me?” It feels like an excuse, or something silly, and you shrug your shoulders. “So it never occurs to me.”

“Why?” That seems impossible to him. You’re beautiful, kind, smart and funny. “While I don’t subscribe to catcalling women all the time, there’s got to be times where people come onto you.”

“Maybe.” Another shrug and you feel yourself looking away, like you ought to be embarrassed for missing out on something. “But I never notice unless it’s extremely obvious. Like the day you asked me to have lunch with you the first time? You flat out asked me.”

“I don’t mind having to be blunt.” Marcus leans in and nudges your shoulder slightly. “I’ll keep it in mind when I want you to know I’m flirting with you.”

“I’ll learn,” you promise, knowing the whole thing sounds silly to any ‘normal’ person. “Learning how you flirt is easier than learning how everybody in the world flirts.”

“This is very true.” Marcus is halfway down with his cone so he dutifully holds it out for you to take.

“Trade time.” You offer him your cone in exchange, glad that something so simple can be enjoyable for both of you. After everything you’ve been through over the last few years, you really have realized that it’s the little things that mean the most to you. Something as simple as sharing food makes everything much more intimate.

“We might have to get a couple of pints to take home next time.” Marcus suggests. “Bring a cooler.”

“We can make homemade ice cream sandwiches.” The thoughts roll on - of spending more time with him, getting to know Missy - the daydreams you have only started to allow yourself this week as you waited eagerly tonight.

“Ohhhh make some cookies for the sandwiches.” Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the idea.

“Exactly.” His enthusiastic reaction makes you grin, hoping that some of these little dreams might come true sooner rather than later. Tonight has really been perfect, and you don’t want it to end even if all you do is sit here in the after-dusk and watch the water together.

“So…anything else you want to do?” He asks softly. “We don’t have to end the date after we get back to L.A.”

“Honestly? We could probably do anything and I’d enjoy it.” Simple, maybe, but you prefer to think of it as being easy going. And you’ve never not enjoyed time with this man. “Maybe we could just…curl up? Watch a movie or something? Unless that sounds boring to you.”

“We could do that.” Marcus offers after thinking about it for a second. “Do you want to do this at your place or mine?” Just because you were picked up from a date at your apartment doesn’t mean you want him to come back to it. He frantically tries to remember if he did the dishes this morning.

“It’s probably easier if you come back to mine, I think.” Not that the very idea of it doesn’t have you shaking a little with anticipation. “That way you don’t have to drive the round trip between our places just to drop me off.”

“If that’s what you want.” Marcus chuckles quietly and decides to be honest. “I was just panicking and praying I had cleaned up from breakfast this morning.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that.” You shake your head, pausing for a second to lick away a drop of ice cream before it can skate down your hand. “A pristine house always confuses me. It’s supposed to be where you live, and life is messy.”

“Life is messy but I don’t think day old dishes are the way to express it.” Marcus chuckles. “I always think of shoes by the door, backpacks slung over the stair banister, throws and pillows messy on the couch.” He shrugs. “Basically how my house looks.”

“If you would be more comfortable at your house, I don’t mind.” For you, this is all about making him as at ease as possible, because you know that no matter what you’ll enjoy yourself. “I can take an Uber home?” Or spend the night, but you won’t say that part out loud.

He chuckles quietly. “I was wanting you to be comfortable.” He pouts slightly, playfully, at you.

“Too considerate for our own good.” You have to laugh a little, realizing that you’re both dancing around each other. “Why don’t we go to your house, then?” An Uber ride now will give you time to think, and to maybe not do something impulsive like ask him to stay.

Marcus nods. “That sounds good. We’ll have the house to ourselves and not have to worry about bothering the neighbors.” He murmurs, knowing you probably won’t get his meaning.

“Sounds good.” The smile you give him is admittedly a little dreamy, but that’s okay. A first date should be dreamy if it’s any good. Now that it’s officially dark out, the night seems to have taken on an extra layer of comfort that you hadn’t expected. Or maybe it’s just that you’re leaning into his side on the bench.

Marcus quickly devours the cone, but he offers you the very tip of the cone - the best part in his opinion. “Here, sweetheart.” He leans up and holds it up to your lips. “The sweetest bite.”

There’s something very intimate about it but you don’t shy away, accepting the gift by nipping it right out of his fingers with your teeth but still accidentally grazing his fingers with your lips in the process. He’s right about it, though, and you hum happily when you offer him the same last bite of the cone you had been holding.

It should be obvious how Marcus is feeling from the way his breath catches when you graze his fingers, but he doesn’t know. So he makes it obvious. He wraps his lips around your fingers and sucks lightly.

As gentle as he is when he does it, it sucks the air straight out of your lungs to make you gasp. There's no possible way to miss the deliberate way his tongue flicks at your fingertips instead of focusing on the nub of the ice cream cone that you had been offering, and although he does come away with the treat in his mouth that's not at all what you're focused on now. You stare for a second before you can compose yourself again, and instead of being gobsmacked you immediately feel your whole face burning.

"Delicious." He hums, smirking at you slightly as he licks his lips before he starts to lick his fingers clean of any melted ice cream that dripped down. "Are you ready to go back?" He asks, watching you carefully as he sucks his thumb clean.

The reply gets stuck in your throat at first but you nod, eventually managing to stammer out a "Yes" and flustering, because what you want to do is drag him in for a kiss but that seems awfully forward. Or maybe it isn't at this point and you're just paranoid - who knows.

Marcus chuckles quietly, suddenly more confident on this date than he had been up to this point. His knuckles brush across your cheek and there’s still just a touch of light over the ocean to make the scene romantic with the string of lights around to give it a nice glow. “I’m going to kiss you, unless you say no.” He warns softly, making his intentions known and giving you a chance to pull away as he leans in.

“Why the hell would I do that?” It gives you just a second to appreciate his knack for crystal clear communication, which means the world to you, but you’re also not trying to open a dialogue. You lean in as easily as breathing, finding his lips a half seconds faster than he anticipated, and let your eyes flutter closed at that first touch. It feels so natural, like everything else tonight, and you reach one hand up to cup his cheek while the moment lingers between you beautifully.

Marcus sighs into the soft kiss. It’s gentle, promising. A first kiss that sweet dreams are made of and he’s careful to not take it any deeper. If you want to kiss him again, he can expand then. After a moment, or many an hour, he pulls away with a smile. “Ready, beautiful?”

“Absolutely.” As soft and sweet as it is, your whole self is buzzing with it and you run your thumb along his jaw as you nod. “Ready, handsome.”

The two of you stand up and there’s a natural way that you seem to drift towards each other. His hand sliding around your waist and he hums softly. “Are you warm enough in that jacket for the ride home?” He asks, knowing that it will get cooler now that the sun is down.

“I’ll be okay.” He must not know that he radiates heat. It comes off him in waves and you’ve wondered more than once how he could possibly survive wearing sweaters like he does in Southern California weather while being so warm. Maybe it’s just an aura he gives off. “If I’m chilly when we get to your house we’ll just have to curl up under a blanket.”

Marcus groans slightly, barely refraining from making another dirty comment, but his fingers flex slightly on your hip. “Whatever you want.” He promises.

“Did I say something?” You’re starting to pick up on things. On his cues that could be considered unusual. At least, he never groaned around you before.

“Yeah.” He knows you didn’t mean it sexually. “I was just thinking of all the ways I could be under a blanket with you, sweetheart.” He admits as the two of you stop in front of his bike again. “It’s adding to that pressure I was talking about.”

With two pieces of the puzzle, it's like something clicks into place in your mind and you suck in another breath, clamping your mouth shut to keep from openly giggling. "Oh." You duck your head and push into his space a little, just to press a kiss to his cheek. "I wouldn't... wouldn't mind not making it through the movie," you admit quietly.

He chuckles quietly and reaches for the helmet for you. “That’s up to you.” He promises quietly. “Completely up to you.”

The ride back to LA is easy. The giddiness in your blood is different than it was when you left the city but no less exciting - just a new kind of anticipation. The idea that he does actually want you as much as you want him is exhilarating, making you hyper aware of the way you have to cling to him as he guides you through traffic. The strength of him despite how he might look soft to the outside observer. The breadth of his back and shoulders giving you a place to rest your head as your drive that only makes you wonder if the breadth of his chest would be even more comforting.

There is a slight urgency to getting back this time. He’s not speeding too badly but it’s not the leisurely drive it had been on the way out. Not with the fact that your hand has slipped under his jacket and resting on his stomach, warm and heavy.

His house is picturesque from the outside: the pinnacle of upper-middle class southern California comfort. A gate and security box outside let you in to see the well kept front yard and around the side of the house where the pool is beckoning with welcome. It looks tidy but not fussy, which is just like him. "Home sweet home?" You hum when he cuts the engine in his driveway.

“Home sweet home.” Marcus offers, letting you swing yourself off the back of the bike before he lets down the kickstand and dismounts himself. “Hopefully you like it.”

"I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't." As reluctant as you are to pull away, you take off the helmet you had been wearing and hand it off to him to secure. The night has barely gotten a chill but the ride definitely created a breeze, and you smile when you take his offered hand. "Do you want to give me the grand tour?"

“Of course.” He practically beams at how you smile at him. It’s the type of smile that makes him feel like a warm blanket has settled over him. “Missy has managed to make this hang out central in the summertime when she’s here. The kids like to come swim.”

“I would too, if I were them. Any place with a pool is the best place to spend free time.” There’s vestiges of teenagers everywhere when he shows you the path to the backyard - pool toys in a large crate and everything brightly colored in every way. It feels lived in and loved.

“Of course. And it’s always asking if I can grill hamburgers or whatever.” He huffs, but his grin gives away how much he enjoys it. “Do you know how many bags of chips teenagers can plow through?”

“It’s gonna be even more if I start coming over.” You flash him a grin that says you’re one hundred percent ready to suck up to his daughter to make sure she likes you. “Dips and desserts are kind of my thing.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you mean to bring them or I’ll have to buy more?” He teases with a wink.

“Oh no, I’ll make them.” You promise, laughing right with him. “Nothing says pool party and burgers like fresh salsa and guac.”

“You make homemade guacamole and my daughter would be your best friend.” Marcus laughs. “She eats it all by herself.”

“Befriending Missy is very high on my list of priorities.” That’s something that shouldn’t be a secret from him - that you value him enough to make his daughter a priority. Tonight has been amazing and might still continue to get better, and it’s important that he knows how seriously you take this.

“The key to her heart is avocados and green chili sauce.” He confides, whispering playfully. “If you can make green chili enchiladas, she might ask you to move in.”

Your other hand moves around his waist when he pulls you into his side and you grin up at him when you hug him. “I really hope you don’t mind having me around then, because it sounds like Missy and I can live off the same foods.”

“If you can cook it, thank God.” Marcus huffs. “Because for some reason mine never turns out right.”

“We’ll have to see what she thinks.” You lean into Marcus with a smile. “I hope they make the cut.”

“If they are halfway decent, it would be a lot better than mine.” He chuckles, leaning into you and sending you an up close wink.

“Wanna show me the inside?” A nod to the house is a small thing, but getting to see his space for the first time is a big deal.

“Of course! Yes, of course.” He huffs at himself and shakes his head. “Come inside, please.”

The house is lived in. Cozy and as tidy as it can be while being inhabited by a single dad and his teenage daughter. No cleaning lady has been through here, no private chef has seen the inside of this kitchen or painstakingly set this table. It hasn’t been touched by an interior decorator or a stylist. It’s just their home, and you like it all the better for that.

“So this is it.” He’s never been a showy person, motioning to the living room and open kitchen. “It’s home and to be honest, probably could use a hell of a dusting.” He admits, blushing slightly.

“It’s just like you.” The words come with a soft, lopsided smile. “Comfortable, welcoming. Like you don’t want to leave once you’ve been let inside.”

Marcus smiles slowly and nods. “Well it’s a good thing that you only leave when you want to.”

It’s a chance to take, but you’re willing to go out on a limb right now. With his fingers still threaded through yours it’s easy to turn into him and tip your head back. It’s just a small moment, or at least it starts that way, but you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth in what is - for you - a very daring move. “That is a good thing,” you murmur, hoping that wasn’t too forward after he kissed you earlier in the evening.

It warms him, making him snake his free hand around your waist and pull you closer. “Hmmmm.” He hums quietly and shakes his head. “We can do better than that, sweetheart.” He promises before he leans in to kiss you again.

It’s firmer this time, more wanting, and you sigh into it with a freedom and enthusiasm that is only encouraged by how close he’s holding you.

Marcus feels the tension building, loves how naturally this is progressing and he tilts his head slightly so he can run his tongue along the seam of your lips.

You shiver a little and sigh, opening up for him and gliding your tongue along his for that first taste of exploring something deeper. While his hand tightens at your waist, yours slide up his shoulders easily, pulling the two of you together like magnets. You opening up for him is like opening the floodgates for Marcus. The needs that have been building for him spill out, making him become more assertive. Guiding you towards a counter while groaning into your mouth, he presses against your body, his own hard and throbbing for you.

Permission has been given here - permission to act and permission to want in a way that you can’t remember even scratching the surface of with anyone before him. Of course there were others before him, you’re not that innocent, but it’s been a long time and something about the way Marcus is mapping the inside of your mouth so carefully and methodically feels momentous. You moan for him, softly at first but it quickly becomes needy, and tangle your fingers in his clothes like a desperate, silent plea to have them out of the way.

“Baby.” Marcus pants as he pulls away, sucking in the air he had been deprived of while he was kissing you. His lips trail down your jaw. “You need- let me know- if- if we need to stop.” He manages.

“Could say the s-same to you —” It’s not as though you haven’t dreamt of this. Gotten yourself off to the thought of this. Tried to imagine if he would be rough and needy from desperation or soft and gentle out of caution and affection. Now that you might be a hair’s breadth away from finding out you don’t ever want to stop.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Marcus lets out a breathless chuckle against your pulse. “Baby I want to show you my bedroom.” He murmurs desperately. His cock twitches against your stomach.

“Please.” There’s nothing more straight forward than that, and you nod almost frantically.

“Okay.” He pulls away from you and takes your hand. “Let’s go upstairs.” He offers, giving you a moment to breathe.

If you were in a more eloquent mood you might have thought it was like being led through a palace by your very own Prince Charming, but as it stands the only thing you can really focus on is the heat radiating off of him and the urgency with which you’re both climbing the stairs. You barely make it to the landing before you’re glued to each other again, blindly grasping along the hallway as you moan into another kiss.

It has been a long time since Marcus was in such a hurry to ferry someone into his bedroom. Yet his hands grip every part of you that he can reach and he is pushing off your jacket right there in front of the stairs so he can touch more of you. Drunk off the soft sounds you pour into his mouth.

One by one the pieces of clothing start to drop - your purse, both jackets, his shirt - with an urgency that you hadn't known you had until his hands were spanning your whole hips with one great grasp and his teeth found exactly how sensitive the tender skin of your neck is. "Marcus–" His name is a prayer before it becomes a chant and your own hands map the expanse of his chest as you tumble through a doorway that you desperately hope leads to his bedroom.

“Gonna make this good baby.” It’s a desperate promise to his ears, especially as long as he’s been without intimacy. Unless you count him jerking off this morning in a desperate attempt to not attack you. Though that point seems to be moot.

"So good." How could you doubt that about him? Well...you don't, honestly, but you understand that as long as it's been for you it's been much longer for him. And to have a little reassurance might go a very long way tonight. "So fucking good."

“Let me know if I do something that you don’t like.” Marcus orders you softly, smirking at you because he doesn’t think that it will be likely. “It has been a long time since I’ve been able to go down on someone.”

“Fuck, Marcus.” Having had no expectation for tonight, that bowls you over like a ton of bricks and you look up at him with lust blown eyes. “There is nothing I don’t like about that.”

He chuckles, the deep, raspy sound of arousal and anticipation. “You don’t know, I could be a biter.” He teases, knowing that he will put his teeth marks on you in a few different places.

"How do you know I wouldn't like that?" You tease back, enjoying that every single second doesn't have to be fully loaded and serious. Being able to laugh with your lover is something you need.

Marcus snaps his teeth at you playfully at winks. “Only one way to find out.”

Giggling in response, you happily draw him in for another kiss before stepping back toward his bed. One pull brings your dress up over your head, and you just have to thank your lucky stars that you wore a reasonably cute matching underwear set tonight. It's not all the way to lingerie, but it's nicer than your every-day stuff. If you had anticipated this at all, you would have pulled out the fanciest thing you own.

“Fuck.” The sight of your pretty panties and bra makes his cock twitch in his pants and he’s quickly ridding himself of the t-shirt he had worn. He might be slightly self conscious, it’s been a long time since he was in Heroics shape, but he ignores that as he stares.

"You took the word right out of my mouth." It might be a silly thing, but you can't help staring right back for a moment. The little bit of softness around his middle doesn't diminish his figure one ounce. If anything, you like a bit of softness with all that strength. He looks broader like this - shoulders tapering down to trim hips - and you step backward again. One step closer to his bed.

“Take off your bra.” Marcus orders quietly before he smirks and holds up his hand to stop you. “Better yet…hold still.”

Tilting your head at him, you stop reaching behind you. A second later the hook and eye clasps on your bra open completely untouched. "Did you just--?" Your hand immediately reaches back to touch the clasp, which feels completely normal and unbent, and you pull your bra down your arms with a smirk. "Metal powers. Handy."

“Very handy.” He might look like the cat who got the cream and his eyes only get wider as your breasts are revealed to him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.” He coos, reaching for the button of his jeans. “Do you like your nipples sucked on?” He asks, mouthwatering as he imagines it.

"Mmhmm." For some reason the question paralyzes you, like that is somehow what has made tonight completely real. "I-- y-yes, god yes."

“Then I’m going to suck on them.” Marcus groans like you’ve given him a gift. “I’m going to suck on them while my fingers stretch open your little pussy before I lick it.”

"Fuck." One more step back and your calves bump against his bed frame, almost making you lose your balance because you weren't expecting to find the all-important piece of furniture so easily. "Do it, Marcus. Touch me, please."

His jeans are pushed down, his boxers tented with a large wet spot from where he is leaking. “Lay down.” Marcus practically growls out the order, eager to see you spread out in his bed.

All in one not-too-smooth motion, you shift back onto his bed and slip out of your panties, wanting to just bypass any other awkwardness by laying yourself bare for him. Everything Marcus wants at this moment, you are more than happy to give him.

He had wanted to strip off your panties, but it’s completely okay if you are bare. Giving him the perfect unobstructed view of your body. He hisses through his teeth and rushes to strip off his boxers. “Jesus baby, look at you.”

"Too busy looking at you." His cock is thick, and longer than you've had before, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as you take in the sight of him prowling toward you. Two steps and he's leaning on the bed, making the mattress dip to hold his weight and bringing the heat of his proximity back to you. "Fucking gorgeous."

“Yes you are.” Marcus hovers over you, watching you squirm underneath him as he takes in the view. “Let me kiss you again, sweetheart.”

"Gladly." You would drown in him right now if you could - kissing him is the least of it. The weight and breadth of him on top of you makes you feel almost dainty as you breathe him in, and just a touch of warm wetness on the inside of your thigh tells you he is just as excited by the turn tonight has taken as you are.

The kiss is hot, frantic and Marcus is lowering himself onto you before he even realizes it. Needing to get closer. “Fuck.”

It feels like your hands are everywhere at once, trying to map the length and breadth of him while you memorize his taste. With no hesitations between you, the instinct to reach down and wrap your hand around his length is easy to give in to.

You would think that he’s been surprised, maybe even hurt from the way that Marcus sucks in a loud breath. But there’s no mistaking the way his hips jerk forward when your hand surrounds his cock and squeezes gently. It’s the sweetest kind of torture and he feels the burst of pearly liquid build up on the tip naturally. “Shit.” The ragged groan is followed by his mouth starting to blaze a wet trail across your chest in search of your nipple.

Your own gasp nearly matches when he finds it, drawing a moan from you and arching your back off the bed and letting your eyes flutter shut just for a second before you peel them open again to watch him. Ravenous isn’t usually a word you would use to describe Marcus but right now he is a man starved and the first step to satiating him is found at your tits.

There had been a few times where he had worried he wouldn’t be able to do this again. That he would be too nervous or just unsure of the new partner. But you have stripped all of those insecurities away and left him with nothing but heavy desire.

The sounds surrounding you like a halo turn filthy quickly. Groans muffled by skin, vocal moans, the sloppy sounds of Marcus lapping at your chest more and more desperately every time your hand moves on his cock.

“Fuck.” His groan is muffled around your nipple. His hands blaze a trail over your skin, groping and squeezing every piece of flesh he could. “So good.”

“Marcus—” You whimper when he moves across your chest, latching onto your neglected nipple with eager determination. “Fuck baby — need you to touch me. Please.”

Once you beg him, Marcus can’t deny you anything. His fingers slide down to slide through your folds and press against your clit as he switches over to the other breast. Your hand around his stills when he presses his fingers into you, totally absorbed in the feeling of being split open on two of his thick fingers as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. It has your chest heaving and body aching all at once, desperate to get as close to him as possible. To draw him into you and get him as addicted to the feel of you surrounding him as you already are to him surrounding you.

“So sweet.” Marcus pulls off your tit and groans when he feels how fucking tight you are as he pumps his fingers into your body. “Fuck, that what you need? That good? You need me to curl them?” He wants to know how to make you cum, wants to hear those breathless cries.

"C-curl, fuck, please--" It's impossible to form a complete thought with his fingers moving inside of you so gorgeously, but you nod and hope he can understand the broken sentence for what it is. "So good."

He hears you, his teeth nipping the side of your breast as he curls his fingers up and presses them deeper.

You keen in response, crying his name and grasping his shoulders as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, curling them perfectly against that gorgeous spongy spot inside of you and making you see stars. "Just-- fuck -- like that, oh my god."

Marcus groans, breathing against your skin and closing his eyes at the sound of your moan. “Good girl.” He coos breathlessly. “Oh fuck, good girl.” His cock pulses against your hip but he wants to make this good for you. Knowing that he won’t last too long in bed this time.

It's all too overwhelming and so good in all the ways that you've missed being touched, and Marcus's rhythm doesn't falter as he pushes you right to the edge. Barely gasping out a warning before your whole body seems to lock down under him, his name is on your lips when you fall apart for him the first time.

Marcus shudders, feeling the liquid heat rush over his fingers. Making him moan your name quietly as he keeps pumping his fingers up into to keep the pressure against that spongy spot and draw it out for you while he kisses along your jaw and murmurs small words of encouragement in your ear. “Good girl, so fucking good. Ride it out for me, baby.”

"Goddamn." When you feel like you can breathe again, you turn your head to capture his lips in a sloppy, eager kiss. "So fucking good, baby."

He chuckles quietly, soaking up your praise and slowly pulling his fingers out of you along with a whine when he does. “Good.” He pants. “You want–” He pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks.

"Fuck yes." There's no hesitation for you. Months of dreaming - and daydreaming - about this makes you nothing but pliant and needy. "I-I'm safe," you manage to pant out between kisses. "IUD, I mean."

He groans the idea of feeling you bare and having you full of his cum. “Good. I’m safe too.” He promises, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Been a long time and I’ve had a clean bill of health.”

"It's been a while for me, too." There's no reason for him to be self-conscious about that, and you brush the damp curls of hair out of his face to press a kiss to his forehead. "Doesn't matter," you smile softly. "Just matters that it's you."

That more than anything, makes him relax. Marcus kisses you, forgetting that he had promised to use his tongue on you as he shifts and covers your body with his. “So fucking beautiful.” He groans.

"All for you, baby," you promise him, knowing that nothing in the damn universe could pull you out of this man's bed now that you're here.

He doesn’t rush. Instead, settling between your thighs is a slow affair. He’s not some teenager that needs to be inside you, although the ache has built up to almost painful. Instead he kisses you as his hand slides between your bodies so he can position himself at your core and his eyes watch yours as he slowly starts to sheath himself in your welcoming body.

You feel like you're holding your breath as he presses into you, filling you up inch by gorgeous inch, but it's the low moan reverberating in your chest and the thick cock slowly splitting you open that gives you the feeling of breathlessness. Marcus isn't in a hurry and neither are you. With your foreheads pressed together and sounds of pleasure coming from both of you, the room around you has dissolved and narrowed your reality down to just him.

“Holy shit.” Marcus’s arms are trembling by the time he is buried to the hilt and he swears that he can’t breathe. The sexy and playful moment turns serious and he can’t do anything more than to press his lips tenderly to yours again while he tries to give you time to adjust before he moves.

He pulls back, rolling his hips away from you as slowly as he had punished them forward, and you gasp into his kiss when he drives into you again - slightly faster but not with anything approaching speed. A languid pace gives you both time to find a rhythm together and your lips only leave his to kiss and nip along his jaw line while he moans in your ear.

He closes his eyes as he languidly rocks into you. Keeping the pace steady. “When you’re ready, let me know.” He murmurs slowly, feeling the exquisite pleasure of your walls squeezing him. “I want to hear you scream my name tonight.”

"More, baby." He knows damn well that you're not above begging, and your tone is borderline pleading even without needing to be. All you know is that you want to be completely overwhelmed by him. "Fuck, I-- please, Marcus, want you so bad."

“W-wrap your legs around me.” Marcus groans out, pushing to his elbows and grins at you. “And hang on.”

Curiosity has you following his instruction as much as anything else, and you shift under him just enough to have your ankles meet at the small of his back. Your hands grasping at his arms and shoulders will have to be enough to ‘hang on’ like you’ve been told.

He hums, pleased by your willingness to comply and he grins at you, devilish as he winks. “Now tell me if I need to slow down.” He says before he withdraws again and snaps his hips forward.

“Fuck!” Slow and steady is apparently not Marcus’s preferred pace, as he begins to pound into you with stamina that could only come from a Heroic. If his goal is really to have you screaming his name, you have a feeling it won’t take very long at all.

Grunting, Marcus reaches up to grab the headboard so it doesn’t beat against the wall. Forgetting that he had removed the spacers so it didn’t the last time he had rearranged the room. There hadn’t been any need for them for a long time. Now he just moans as your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as he keeps hammering into you.

The little crescent moon marks your nails are sure to leave behind don't seem to phase him in the least. Every thrust feels like he's splitting you open for the first time all over again, spearing into you until your head is thrown back on his pillows and you have one hand braced again the headboard so you don't hit your head with the way he's fucking you into the mattress.

“J-Jesus.” He hisses. “K-know how many times I-I imagined this?” He demands, pushing the air out of your lungs with every harsh roll of his hips. “Nearly every f-fucking day.”

"Me -- oh fuck -- too." It's as much as you can do to string a few words together right now and you keen when he drives into you again.

Every time his cock hits the spongy walls of your cunt, you moan for him. Making him ramp up his pace to near frantic and all he can do is pant out your name between breaths.

It hits you like a freight train when that second orgasm comes, without any chance to give him warning or do anything except cry his name into the night, the sound reverberating off the walls with the wet slap on skin on skin as Marcus fucks you through your peak with your cunt clenching down on him like a velvet fist.

“F-fuck, good girl.” Marcus moans, closing his eyes and thanking the Gods that he managed to last long enough for you to be able to cum. “Shit, baby.” He covers your mouth once more for a desperate kiss as he rocks into you half a dozen more times before he plunges deep and pulses inside you, the liquid heat of his pleasure filling you up.

He swallows your moans as he empties himself inside you, and when both of you breathe again it's with brilliant smiles on your faces even though all eyes stay closed for a long moment afterward. When you do open your eyes, you press soft kisses along his jaw and cheeks, finally dusting a few on his lips. "Holy shit," you giggle quietly, chest still heaving as you pant.

His quiet laugh matches yours in breathlessness and he nods. “What you said.” He huffs, deciding the thing to do would be to collapse against you and tuck his head into your neck to snuggle and breathe you on.

You wrap your arms around him, legs going slack as you both just sink down into his mattress together as one. "Hell of a first date," you chuckle, kissing his shoulder where you've left marks behind.

“Mmmhmm.” His smirk is pleased and tired against your neck. “When I can move again, I’ll run you a bath and get us some water.” He murmurs.

"If we don't both fall asleep first." It wouldn't bother you for a second if that's what happened. Passing out after sex with Marcus still inside you is high on the fantasy list.

“How do you know what I’m trying not to do?” Marcus grumbles playfully at you, kissing your pulse softly.

"Cause it's what I'm trying not to do," you giggle against his skin. "That's a hell of a workout."

“Yes it was.” His softening cock twitches inside you and he giggles slightly, feeling euphoric. “I’m very glad you aren’t my student anymore.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 

My Masterlist!

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 27th

Day 27: Wax Play, Glory Hole, Group Sex

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Sex clubs, anonymous sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingers, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, fantasizing, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He has needs. Needs that have been unfulfilled for so long since the death of his wife. Needs that he can’t bring himself to slack by dating and getting involved with someone. It’s still too raw, too painful. Plus, he doesn’t know how Missy would react to there being another woman in his life, in her life. She had loved her mother fiercely, still does, like Marcus does. It’s why he had started coming here. 

Here, at The Hole, they are discreet. Very. Politicians, celebrities, and Heroes are among the regulars that come here to blow off steam in any manner of ways. Always anonymous and there are any number of pleasures to be had. He scans in with a card and inputs in what he is looking for. A room number will appear and that is where he will go. Or he could find someone by their room number. Certain people are always hosting in specific rooms and he knows the one that he continuously goes to. 

Room 417. It’s almost like an addiction at this point. He doesn’t care though, because he knows what he will find when he opens the door. A perfect pussy on display, legs resting on hooks. Only the lower body is on display, apparently she doesn’t suck cock, or maybe her other half is at another glory hole, but he doesn’t think that’s the case. Not with the sounds she gives him. 

Marcus Moreno is a Heroic. He’s a household name. However, here he’s just a number. One of hundreds that submit STI tests every week and participate in the pure debauchery of the club. This is where he can work out the stress of his job, of being a single father, out on that pretty pussy in room 417. 

It’s always interesting when you are ‘the stirrups’. Oftentimes, you find that some men prefer to just get that anonymous blow job, but others, they want pussy. They want to sink into a wet cunt and fuck away whatever need they have. Or maybe your ass. You don’t mind it. 

The space for your head, your torso, is a little boring. You normally close your eyes and meditate or just rest while you wait. Knowing that someone will eventually come. The small chime before the door opens makes your eyes pop open and you strain to hear them. 

He’s quiet, shuffling into the room and stopping. Staring. Enjoying the view before he decides what he wants to do. It’s what he does every time to this cunt. What he’s found he loves doing. Marcus shifts forward and runs a single finger down the fold of the labia. 

Your body twitches when you feel someone touch you. An involuntary response, that makes you giggle quietly. You do it nearly every time, you can’t help it. 

Marcus grins. There’s something about that honest, raw response that he enjoys. One that makes this seem like more than an anonymous encounter. He pulls his finger away and slips two into his mouth to wet them. 

“Look so pretty lying here.” He coos as he runs the now wet fingers up and down your exposed slit. “Just waiting for someone to come, huh?”

That voice. It makes you shiver every time and you’ve heard it quite a few times here. It makes you think of your boss, Marcus Moreno. That raspy baritone that you hear everyday at work. But it couldn’t be him. There’s no way a man like him would come to a place like this. But this is your indulgence, your fantasy. That Marcus is on the other side of that wall.

He hums when he sees the thighs relax, spreading even more in invitation. It’s always so beautiful when a woman accepts his touch. The people who say that consent is guaranteed since they are in the stirrups never witness the unfurling of their body’s. Never pay attention to the queues that are given. But they probably never think about pleasuring the person on their back either. 

Whoever this man is, you always love when he is the one who comes. His fingers slowly, lazily get to know your sex. Like it’s the first time that he’s touched you, even though you know you’ve had him before. So when you get wet almost immediately, it’s in anticipation of what you know is coming. 

Marcus groans at the first bit of arousal that coats his fingers. “Fuck, do you like the way I’m touching you? Let me know if you don’t like something, sweetheart.” He rubs the clit and then drags his fingers up and down the folds as he spreads the  wetness. “A pretty pussy like this is made for pleasure.”

You moan softly. Plenty of men talk while they are with you. Immediately shoving their cocks into your cunt and talking about how wet or tight you are, when you’re not that fucking wet. It’s about their pleasure and they don’t really care about yours. Not your imaginary Marcus. He takes his time. He spends time doing more than just fucking you. He breaks you apart. 

“One day I’m going to try your ass out.” It’s almost like he’s having a conversation with the woman he’s touching, but she never does more than moan or cry out normal phrases. That’s okay, all he wants is to hear her sweet voice, to see if it’s as familiar as he imagines. “But this sweet little pussy is too good. I’m addicted.”

Your eyes roll back, another moan bubbling up from your chest. In your mind, Marcus is hovering over you, those glasses discarded along with every stitch of clothing as he looks at you like you’re his entire world. 

His fingers dip inside the tight little hole. Popping back out before going too deep and groaning when the walls try to tighten around them. “Now.” He shuffles to his knees in front of the contraption that exposes this cunt to his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me eat your pussy.” He orders, right before his mouth latches onto the clit and his fingers plunge deep. 

You cry out, body jerking in pleasure and shock, even though you knew he would eat you out. This man does every time and your eyes flutter closed. Imagining that it's Marcus between your legs and your walls clench down around his fingers. 

Marcus chuckles, loving how responsive this woman is. Her beautiful choked noises makes his hard cock twitch and throbs as it sticks straight up and he has to resist wrapping his free hand around it. Instead he grabs onto one hip and squeezes as his tongue curls around the clit and he sucks on it. 

“Oh god.” You choke out, stomach twisting in pleasure and your hands slide up to cup your tits. Letting this man feast on your cunt like it’s an altar of worship. “So good baby, so good.”

Praise gets him. He misses it. Has missed it until room 417, until this pussy and the wonderful voice that comes with it. He knows that voice but he can never place it. Not that throaty, lust rough begging. He wants to hear more of it so he doubles down on the curl of his fingers and the flick of his tongue. 

You can’t help but whimper and whine for him, this glorious, faceless man who sounds like your hopeless crush. He is so intent on your pleasure. Not a few passive licks to say he ate pussy, but this man treats your cunt like a five star meal. Devouring you like it would save the world. 

Marcus moans into the folds. Feeling the arousal leaking out from around his fingers and sliding down the valley of this woman’s crack and literally dripping onto his cock where he is poised underneath the void of the table. It’s incredible and he wants more. He wants to feel and hear her cum. To have her break apart because of him. 

You shudder and moan, practically shaking as you experience the way this gorgeously talented man works your body. Playing it like it is his personal instrument, one he has fine-tuned over decades. His thick, generously long fingers press deep and his tongue suckles on your clit again, making you wail out a wordless sound as you start to cum. 

For a split second, he wishes he could see her face. To watch her mouth drop open before that delicious cry sounds out. Does she throw her head back? Are her eyes closed or blown wide? Those are the questions he wants answers as the walls start to spasm around his fingers, making him moan again. 

He works you through it. Softening his mouth and fingers as he guides you through the most blissful orgasm you’ve had in years. Until your thighs stop shaking and his fingers are still inside you. 

“Good girl, fuck you’re so good to me.” Marcus pants, nearly ready to cum himself as he slowly pulls his fingers out of the little hole they were buried in. “Always so good.” His fingers are coated in arousal and the thin strands web between his fingers and that perfect cunt. Stretching thin before finally breaking apart. She had cum. 

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart?” It’s amazing how that request always makes your heart skip a beat. Asking after giving so much pleasure. Seeking out approval even though you are laying exposed for his pleasure. Fuck, you wish this was Marcus Moreno. It would solidify him as the complete hero in your mind. “Please.”

Marcus groans, immediately shuffling to stand. Her plea sounds so desperate. Like she needs him inside her and it feeds into a core desire. To be wanted. He has covered his cock in her arousal and he pumps it, peeling the foreskin back to press the head against her clit. 

Your toes curl, flexing in anticipation as he slowly slides his cock through your cum slick folds. Again, you envision Marcus. Disheveled and flushed with desire, looking down at your cunt like it’s Heaven. You try to roll your hips down, but the stirrups don’t allow for much movement and there is no way you would pull back now. 

The first inch is slow. Easing in and groaning over the wetness, the heat. Controlling himself for a moment before the threads of control snap and he’s lost to the sensation. 

Your cry is one of pleasure, mixed with the best kind of pain when he snaps his hips forward. “Fuck.” You clench when his voice drops. That honey rough voice turning to a snarl, like he’s lost control. “Fuck, fuck, sweetheart. Gonna tear this pussy up.”

He grabs her hips, using them for purchase as he draws his hips back to fill you again. Over and over, he buries his cock into the most perfect cunt he’s had since his wife. Feeling the walls stretch and give to his harsh thrusts. 

All you can do is take. Take it and vocalize how good it feels. Your moans and cries are pushed out of you as he drills into you. Spearing his cock into you at a pace that leaves you breathless. 

Here is where he can lose himself. The weight of the world falls off his shoulders as his hips jackhammer forward again and again. All the worries he carries are gone as he buries his cock into that clenching, squeezing little hole. Listening to her sweet sounds as he fucks her. 

Your fingers claw your tits, biting your lip to keep from screaming too loud when he finds the sweet spot and dials in on it. Hitting it again and again without fail as he rocks into you brutally. You’ll be sore. You’ll feel him for days and you wish it was Marcus. Knowing his secrets that while he might be a hero, he fucks like a sinner. 

“Soo good, so sweet.” He grunts, sweat dripping down his brow. “Fucking tight little cunt, taking me.” He hisses as he rocks up into the balls of his feet, feeling that sensation in the base of his spine. He’s getting close. 

Your moans have turned into one long continuous one. His breakneck pace is almost impossible to take and yet you're gasping out when you feel a thumb on your clit. Rubbing tight, harsh circles on the sensitive bean. 

“Cum for me.” He pants out. “One more, give me one more, sweetheart.” He wants her to cum again. The best feeling in the world is cumming with your lover. Even if he can’t see her face, he wants to feel her orgasm. 

His command opens the floodgates. Your heels digging into the stirrups while your back arches up. Walls clamping down around his cock, Marcus’s cock and you’re relieved when you just cry out wordlessly instead of shouting his name.

It’s another couple of thrusts, feeling his balls pull tight against his body before he’s pushing deep. Rocking his hips with shallow, grinding thrusts as he pumps that quivering pussy full of his load. Painting her walls with ropes of his hot seed and moaning quietly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You whimper when he stops moving, just throbbing inside you and you see that exhausted smile on Marcus’s face. The one he always gives at the end of a battle when the world is safe once more. This time, it’s just for you. A private, blissed out smile that has you smile to yourself on the other side of the partition. 

Marcus eases out of the pussy, watching as his cum starts to well up and slowly drip out as his cock softens. Coated in her juices and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Since the last time he was here. Reaching out, he runs a finger through his cum, making her shiver as he smiles tiredly. He’s so fucking grateful he found The Hole and room 417. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

[misspearlssideblog]

Darling, what - the - hell?!?! 😁

I’ve only watched the heroics once because Disney is not something I watch a whole lot. (Unless my nieces are over ☺️)

So reading this darker/graphic side to the heroics is a nice alternative, like a glimpse into some of the ‘real’ shit the team get sucked into. (Horrors/action/comedy movies are my thing, blame my papa 😂)

I’m so, so very happy with the ending too. Without spoiling it for others, what you’ve wrote for Marcus and his family is so sweet and perfect to wrap up the story 🥰

Thank you for tagging me, Char. Always an absolute delight to read your work 🥺❤️

A Greater Power

Pairings: Marcus Moreno x heroics!reader

Warnings: Violence, fighting, knife fighting, blood, death, angst, fluff.

Summary: You are a heroic but don’t actually have any powers. You’re skill with knifes and martial arts has you teamed up with Marcus, and you both fall for each other. On what’s to be your last mission, you both get captured and Marcus gets seriously injured. Can you save yourself and him before it’s too late?

A/N: this is a request by the lovely @lovelypastel2532 hope you enjoy 😊

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

This is all wrong!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

What was supposed to be a simple mission, in and out, had gone terribly wrong. Some bad guys had stolen a chemical, one that if mixed incorrectly with other ingredients, could literally obliterate people. You and Marcus decided to take it, the last job before you both hang in the towel. Missy and the other children had really stepped up and now Marcus could finally retire, something he wanted you to do as well. He said he wanted to finally settle down with you maybe even start a family. You agreed.

You wish you hadn’t.

It was a trap. Looking back on it now, you don’t know how you didn’t spot it. The clues were all there. Electro had been behind it all, his hatred for Marcus beyond words and he was finally going to have his revenge.

Outnumbered and outmatched you were both captured and put in separate rooms. They tied you up and dangled you from the roof, your arms being pulled in angles they shouldn’t. Four men dressed in black, their faces covered watch you struggle against the rope but they don’t touch you. Strange you think. Why aren’t they doing anything? The quietness of the room is interrupted by a loud cry of pain. Marcus! They get louder and more frequent and you feel the blood drain from you at the sound of the man you live in pain. You needed to get out of here.

***

Marcus was tied to a chair and was surrounded by men in black. He tried desperately to get free from his restraints to no avail. Suddenly the door opens and electro marches in, a sly smirk on his face.

“Marcus Moreno, I beg you thought you had seen the last of me? I’ve been waiting for the moment for a long time. You are going to pay for what you did to me.”

“When I get out of here I’m going to kill you,” Marcus snarls at him. Electro lets out a deep sinister laugh as he clutches his stomach. “No, I don’t think you will. You see, I have an offer of sorts, your pretty women is next door. I have her tied up and men waiting to do my bidding at any given moment, all I have to do is give the order and she will wish she was dead.”

“Don’t you dare touch her,” he says struggling against the rope.

“Ah ah ah!” Electro says wiggling his finger at Marcus. “Not so fast magnet hands. Here is my offer. You can decide who lives or who dies, the choice is yours.”

“What are you on about?”

“I have the women you love and I also have your daughter. You must decide who I kill.”

Marcus’s heart almost stops as the words sink in, colour draining from his face. This can’t be happening.

“You took my wife away from me and now I will take something of yours. You have five minutes to decide.”

“No! You can’t do this..please.” Electro looks towards one of his men and nods his head. The guard speaks into a com link and says ‘do it’. The next thing Marcus can hear are your screams and it breaks him. Turning towards electro he begs him, “take me instead.”

“No! This will hurt you more.”

“Please…your wife…it was an accident..I didn’t mean to. Please just beat me, kill me. Leave them alone.”

Electro just stares at him, his eyes boring into him before he nods at the guard again and your screams stop. “Very well. I’m a generous man, I’ll accept your terms.”

***

You struggle against the rope again and you hope your plan works.

“Stop that!”

With a devilish smile you continue to work the rope, spotting of the men moving out of the corner of your eye. When he’s close enough you wrap your legs around his neck and snap his neck causing the other men to jump into action.

You were always underestimated. Your lack of powers always leading the villains into a false sense of security. What you lacked in powers you made up for in skill and combat. You were even more powerful that Marcus with your knifes and you had trained under Mr Miyagi in martial arts, something you liked to keep hidden.

Having managed to break free from the rope you proceed to kill the men in the room. Standing over the last one you hear a voice coming through on his com.

“Do it.”

Letting out a violent scream, you play the part of damsel in distress before slitting the man throat. That would by you some time. You begin to search frantically for the keys for the door but there are none. Looking up you see a crack in the vent and an idea forms in your mind.

***

“Please…” Marcus gurgles out through his blood filled mouth. “Kill me.”

Electro laughs before he sends a shock wave through Marcus. “This is much better. You will die only when I have had my fun.” Marcus was beginning to fade in and out of consciousness, his thoughts drifting to you and Missy. How he wishes he could see you again, tell you both that everything will be ok and that he loves you. His world fades to black just as he makes out a figure dropping from the roof.

***

No! No! No!

“Marcus…Marcus please wake up. Baby please..don’t leave me.” Movement catches your eye and turning you see electro pull himself towards the door. With a new found rage you grab Marcus swords and slice through him. Grabbing the phone from his pocket you call headquarters for an evacuation and to send medical before rushing back over to Marcus. Kneeling down beside him you kiss his lips and hold him before tears start to fall. “I’m so sorry baby, this is all my fault I should have known. I…”

“Y/N you need to move.” The team had arrived and were pulling you off him as the tried to put him on the gurney. You stood back, miracle guy keeping a hold of you as you watched them wheel him into the truck. When he was out of sight you completely break down, your screams of anguish echoing around the room .

“Hey it’s ok. He’s gonna be ok.”

***

After hours of surgery Marcus had finally pulled through. The doctors said he would be ok and shouldn’t have any lasting inquiries. You were so happy but it didn’t stop the feeling of guilt that had settled within you. You, Missy and Anita sat at his side day and night, waiting for him to come round. You were asleep on the chair beside his bed, your head resting on his arm and your fingers laces with his when you heard a groan. His fingers squeezed yours and you looked up at him in shock.

“Marcus you’re awake.”

“Hey baby…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore…but I’m alive…that’s all that matters..”

“Dad! Your awake.” Missy says excitedly as she rushes over to him. She hugs him tight but loosens up when he winches in pain.

“Sorry.”

“Hey…it’s ok..I love you. I love you both.” He says his eyes drifting towards you.

“This wouldn’t have happened if I had done my research properly. I’m sorry Marcus.”

He’s shaking his head as his grips your hand tighter in his. “Not your fault baby. He wanted me dead, he was capturing me no matter what.”

“I’m so happy your alive. I love you.”

“Ah you’re awake.” The doctor says as he enters the room. He asks Marcus a few questions before he does a quick check on him.

“You don’t have any lasting injuries, you any feel aches from time to time by it’s quite normal given what you’ve been through. We’d like to keep you here for at least a week and then if everything looks good, you can go home.”

“Thanks doc.”

He motions for you and Missy to hop on the bed with him and you both curl into his sides. Happy to be together again. A little while later, Anita arrives to find you and Missy fast asleep on the bed beside her son. He looks to her with a smile on his face. “Thanks for looking after them mom.”

“With was no trouble. I’m so happy your ok Marcus. I think it’s time you retire for good now though, I couldn’t bare to lose you.”

“I plan to.”

***

Weeks have passed and you and Marcus have fully retired from the heroics. Marcus has been spending his days him his office, doing what your not sure but your just happy he’s here. Standing at the stove you stir the meat in the pot when you hear a groan from behind you. Marcus is bent over gripping his knee.

“Hey baby are you ok,” you say as you rush over to him.

“Yeah just it aches sometimes that’s all.” He looks at you now and he can see the guilt written in your face. Gentle cupping your face in his hands, he kisses your lips softly. “Stop! This wasn’t your fault. I don’t want to see that guilty look on your face again.”

“Ok I’m sorry.”

He makes his way towards the stove and turns it off, moving the pot off the hob. “What are you doing?”

“I want to make love to my girlfriend if she let me?”

“Marcus your still in pain, I don’t want to get you.”

“I’m not in pain and besides I want to feel you, it’s been weeks.”

He laces his fingers with your and leads you to your shared room where he lays you back on the huge bed and makes love to you. It so slow and sensual and god you’ve missed the feel of him inside you. Climaxing together he rolls off you into the bed beside you pulling you into his side.

“Ten amo, mi amor.”

“I love you too.”

“I…I have something to tell you..” he says a little nervously.

“Hmm.”

“I’ve requested that Missy be removed from the heroics team.”

“What? Marcus she’s going to be so upset.”

“No she already knows, I’ve discussed it with her. I’ve bought us a house in Spain and I want to us all to move there and live a normal life. Mom included.”

“Is this really what you want?”

“Yeah it is. I just want us to be a family. Somewhere safe.”

“Ok.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you and Missy so much. Anita too. I’ll go whenever you go.”

He leans over you now, his eyes looking at you with such love and adoration.

“Will you marry me?”

“I’m pregnant!” You say at the same time.

You both freeze. Looking at each other with confusion on your faces.

“What?”

Marcus waits for you to speak first. “I..I’m pregnant…I found out last week.” His lips meet your in a searing kiss. “I’m gonna be a dad again?”

“Yeah. Are you happy?”

“The only thing that will make me happier is you agreeing to marry me.”

“Yes Marcus I’ll marry you.”

He grabs the small box from his bedside locker and slide the ring onto your finger. His hand moves down your bare skin and rests on you stomach. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I love you baby.”

“I love you too.”

Permanent tag list: @lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @alberta-sunrise @dihra-vesa @pintsizemama @athalien @loserrlauraa @thorins-queen-of-erebor @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @pascalisthepunkest @dindjarinneedsahug @almaeunice @jediknight122 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @colorlesswhispersunknown @stevie75 @rosie-posie08 @hauntedmama @greeneyedblondie44 @prettylilhalforc @giselatropicana @phoenixhalliwell @sherala007 @its--fandom--darling @donnaa @javierpinme @luxmundee @littlemisspascal @hayley-the-comet @ezras-channel-rat @misspearly1 @writer-darling @misspearlssideblog

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 02/18/2024

Nerdie! What is new this week?

Welp, I passed my math class (yup - mid thirties in a math class 🤨 it was required). Thankfully it's the only one. I've got one more and then I can look forward to the next term. I think my orientee's last week is this week, I have more stickers to stick on people at work and I burned some candles.

We're glad you burned candles? We're not sure what to say to that. Happy for everything else though. Any new fics?

Just two for the week, I've been focused on my classes so I've been putting out less finished work and prepping series that I have planned:

Don't assume on Valentine's Day - Ezra x plus size female reader (Yup, I wrote a Valentine's fic, just barely? It's mentioned but not the focus. Implied smut, some angst, fluff. All in one.)

Wrong Beach and a Speedo - Javier Gutierrez x Abigail (plus size OFC) I finally started my Javi G series! Is it fluffy like his hair? Yes. Will it stay that way? Mostly only because we gotta move the plot along. 80% fluff, 15% smut adjacent (subject to change, could be less) and 5% violence. Like very small. No worries. Unsure about how many parts, maybe 5-7?

We're not sure about those percentages, but they do add up to 100% so we'll see. You can't be mean to Javi G Nerdie! You can't!

Who said I was? What do you take me for?

*reminds Nerdie of Tim, Frankie, Joel, and Javi P and their truama*

👀 I mean, I get it but no worries. Let's talk about what I read this week alright. Jeez...

Salt + Pepper by @soft-girl-musings (Moon Boys and fem reader)

You be my revolver, I've got you in my hands by @winniethewife (Jake Lockley x fem reader)

Happy Tuesday! by @maggiemayhemnj (Joel Miller x fem reader)

Special Day for a special girl by @winniethewife (Blue x fem reader)

Compulsion by @iamskyereads (Ezra x OFC Beatrice)

Misunderstanding by @romanarose (Marc Spector x fem reader)

Captain's Orders by @laurfilijames (Will Miller x fem reader)

Bloom by @violentdelightsandviolentends (Bucky x fem reader)

Helping Hand by @izelascendant (Din Djarin x OFC)

Perks of being a Wallflower by @soft-girl-musings (Jake Lockley x plus size fem reader)

Stiff by @idolatrybarbie (Maxwell Lord x fem reader) part of PMAMC 2024

Same Time Next Week by @magpiepills (Marcus Moreno x fem reader) part of PMAMC 2024

Pop Goes the Javi by @morallyinept (Javier Peña x fem reader) part of the PMAMC 2024

Flying to New Heights by @fettuccin-e (Frankie Morales x fem reader)

Sadly, some of these had been in my drafts folder way too long. I went from 38 this evening to 33... 🫣 To be fair, All of these I have reblogged, I have just been adding more things to read. So many wonderful things to read. 😭 An excellent problem to have.

Anyway, I should have chapter two of my Javi G fic up this week on Wednesday. Not sure what else. I'll try a Drabble. If I can keep it that short. Maybe about Javi P, Frankie or Santiago. I owe them nice things. 😘

Have a great week everyone! 🥰

Love Nerdie! 💜

P.S. One might see there's been any uptick in Oscar Isaac fics, @for-a-longlongtime is to blame for sending me all the Santi gifs she seemed to have. 👀 My eyes didn't complain though. 😂

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 18

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Chapter Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader / Marcus Moreno x Female Reader / Nico x Female Reader / Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 4600+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, canon divergence (Canon? I hardly know her), lots of blood, injuries, violence, weapons--knife, crowbar, guns, major character death, references of sex, angst

Author Note: I’m doing something different with this chapter y’all. Please read the warnings. We’re also very, very close to the end of this fic and I can’t thank y’all enough for coming on this journey. I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog 💝

PART 1 / PART 17 / PART 19

You try to say something back and end up letting out a choked sound instead of words, eyes blown wide with disbelief.

You’re not a virgin–not in this universe or in your own–but regardless, being so boldly propositioned after being assaulted by a bite-happy vampire is more than enough to give you emotional whiplash, thoughts a churning and incoherent mess. 

“Are you…” your tongue feels thick and awkward in your mouth, a phantom pinch of pain from when you’d bitten it after Max scared you. “Are you serious?”

Dieter nods, disarrayed and abundantly fluffy curls bobbing with the movement. “Just you and me and a bed…I think we’d be amazing together, angel.”

You tell yourself the sudden bloom of heat in the center of your chest is a reaction to the sunlight and not at all related to the mental image of a shirtless Dieter flickering in your mind.

In past universes, you’ve been dating, engaged, married and also had a child with the different Marcus variants. You probably should have anticipated being dropped into a potentially intimate moment like this one.

You remember the first time you’d turned the cube, when you’d met Din. After consoling you, he’d asked you to join him in his bed, and the memory hurts more than you expect it to. So much has changed since then. You’ve changed since then, not just in terms of continuously swapping physical bodies, but emotionally and mentally as well. You’re no longer only Specs anymore. You’re something else, something more. A hybrid of all the personas you’ve possessed, the loves you’ve experienced, and the losses you’ve endured.

Dio said all will return to the way it was before if you solve the cube, but can you truly trust his word? What if he’s lying? What if the changes are permanent?

If you make it home, will you even recognize yourself? 

Dieter remains oblivious to your internal turmoil, still peering at you over the rims of his hundred-dollar sunglasses, eyes squinty and tinted red. He’s high right now, the thought comes out of nowhere, the truth of it makes the warmth in your chest turn cold. 

What hurts worse is the distinct feeling he doesn’t actually know who you are. He had smiled at you a time or two when you crossed paths in the hotel lobby, but it was the same smile posted in magazines and on billboards, perfectly mastered with just the right amount of teeth. At the end of the day, he’s the lead actor in this movie and you’re one of several prop assistants. It’d be silly to expect him to pick you out of a crowd, let alone reciprocate the crush you have on him.

Or that’s what the you of this universe believes anyways. The one who doesn’t know about the multitude of realities out there where you and Brown Eyes always end up together, for better or for worse. The one who doesn’t know she has a chance.

But since you are equipped with this knowledge, you find it rather easy telling him, “No thanks.”

Dieter’s surprised, eyebrows lifting higher up his wrinkled forehead. “You’re certain, angel?” He licks his lower lip, seeming uncharacteristically nervous, wringing his hands together. “I promise to be good to you. Anything you want–”

You silence him with a finger pressed against his lips, the corner of your mouth curling into a soft smile. “Trust me, Brown Eyes, it’s better this way. For both of us.”

And it’s the truth. You’d barely withstood the guilt of nearly stealing Orange’s life with Frankie. The consequences of sleeping with Dieter–robbing Angel of the experience and simultaneously cheating on Marcus–would be ones you’d never recover from. 

You spare a glance down at the cube in your grip, loathing its existence, how it manipulates you against your will just as you attempt to manipulate it with every twist and turn of your hands. But perhaps what you loathe most of all, you think, watching as a row of broken heart symbols seems to shimmer, reflecting the sunlight, is what the invention of the Devil has taught you about love. 

Love doesn’t just come in one form. It shifts and evolves, strengthens and weakens, never appearing the same way twice. Just like the multiverse.

“Okay,” Dieter says at last, and it’s just one word but the way he looks at you when he says it, like you are important to him–like maybe he has known who you are all this time–settles any lingering unease in your stomach. Makes you think Angel will be just fine.

You close your eyes and turn the cube again, knowing that when you open them another universe and another love will be awaiting you.

~~

“Ghost,” someone says, voice tight with concern, and the sound rouses your consciousness. 

Blinking your eyes open, you instantly regret it and squeeze them again shut because being awake means being aware of the pain throbbing from your face. Something wet and sticky is oozing from a cut on your forehead, but your brain hurts too much to instruct your arms to wipe it away. There’s a sense of detachment from reality, making it incredibly hard to focus on all the noises and murmurings going on around you, and you can’t stop the groan escaping your throat. 

Callused, yet gentle hands cup your face, and that same voice says again, low and muffled by your cotton-stuffed ears, “Ghost.”

You’re almost sure you’re Ghost. Somewhere in your mind, beyond the radiating pain from your head wound and confusion of being unceremoniously dumped in a new universe, familiarity rings a quiet bell. 

“I-I didn’t m-mean to hurt her!” Someone–a little girl by the sound of it, you think—says through breath-hitching sobs, utterly distraught. “It–it was an accident!”

“It’s okay, Guppy,” another girl tries to reassure her, but there’s an audible note of nervousness laced in her voice even your weak hearing picks up on. “Ghost will be fine, right, Dad?”

“Of course,” a man replies, and it’s the same person who’s been saying your name over and over, his thumbs softly brushing across your cheeks. You don’t need to open your eyes to know it’s your Brown Eyes. There's a brief pause and then, speaking directly to you, he pleads, “Come on, Ghost. Open your eyes.”

If anyone else had begged you, you would have ignored them. But because it’s him, you can’t resist, squinting through hazy vision to see his face hovering over you, brown eyes shining with worry behind thick black frames.

“Marcus,” you rasp, mouth dry as sandpaper, and there’s a moment where you don’t know what hurts more: your face or your heart. You dig your nails into your palm, but nothing changes. You’re not imagining things or mixing up universes again—this is real. The cube has reached a new level of cruelty, finding another Brown Eyes to tempt you with who shares the same name as your love. 

“I’ve got you,” he answers softly, offering a small smile as he peers down at you.

“What happened?” you ask, still unable to remember what exactly led to you lying on the floor in the middle of—you turn your head slightly, taking everything in at a snail’s pace. You’re in the Heroics training gym, noticing the safety padding on the floor and walls. Eyes drifting a little further to the side reveals a group of kids staring back at you, all wearing identical worried expressions. 

One girl near the front looks just like Marcus, same dark brown hair and eyes, same little concerned crease between her eyebrows. She has an arm wrapped around the shoulders of a younger, tinier girl who aggressively rubs at her tear-streaked face with her shirt sleeves. You should probably be more concerned about the crying child, but you can’t stop your gaze from returning back to the dark-haired girl.

There’s not a doubt in your mind she’s related to Marcus—the resemblance is too distinct to ignore—which most likely means she was the one who said Dad earlier. And if that’s true then…Marcus has a daughter. 

“Training accident,” Marcus says, drawing your attention back to him. “Guppy’s water shark–sorry, Mr. Chompy Face–was spooked by your invisibility and took it out on your face.”

Huh. That might be one of the weirdest sentences you’ve ever heard in your whole life. 

Marcus helps you sit up and some of the dizziness starts to clear from your head. He grabs your wrist to stop you from prodding at the still sluggishly bleeding wound above your left brow and narrows his eyes critically at it.

“How’s it look, Brown Eyes?”

“You’ll probably need stitches,” he murmurs, and his fingers squeeze your wrist in a gesture you’re not sure is supposed to be more reassuring for you or for him. “But I don’t think it will scar.”

He looks over at the kids then, specifically Guppy. “It’s alright, sweetheart. A quick trip to the nurse and Ghost will be right back here teaching you and Mr. Chompy Face how to kick butt.”

Guppy doesn’t seem convinced until you give her a soft smile when she looks at you. “O-okay,” she sniffs. “Get better soon, Miss Ghost.”

“Missy,” the dark-haired girl looks up at her father’s voice, “you’re in charge until we get back.”

Missy–what a sweet name for Marcus’ daughter. His daughter. God your brain is really obsessing over that detail right now. Maybe because your only other experience with a child was Frankie’s baby and for as much as the little infant looked like Frankie with her precious curls, there’s something so different and utterly captivating about seeing Marcus’ mannerisms and expressions replicated in the young girl.

As Marcus pulls you onto your feet, three things happen at once.

There is a touch of cold metal where Marcus’ hand is wrapped around your elbow to steady you. A wedding band, to be more precise.

Missy says, “If you see Mom, tell her hi for me.”

And you realize with painstaking clarity there are no guarantees you and Brown Eyes are together in every universe. Nobody ever said life was fair or that love had to be reciprocated.

You want to blame the head injury for your unawareness, but the truth is it should have been obvious from the moment you saw Missy. Frankie’s baby shared at least some of your physical characteristics—Missy doesn’t share any similarities with you at all. She’s half Marcus, half a woman who Marcus calls his wife. A woman Marcus loves dearly—you can tell just by the look on his face right now as he tells Missy of course, eyes soft at the corners with adoration. 

A look that up until now you’ve always seen directed at yourself.

You bite your lip, telling yourself not to cry.

You want to leave. You need to leave.

But you can’t without the damn cube, so instead you walk with Marcus down the long hallways of the Heroics’ headquarters to the medical wing, pretending Marcus’ hand on your arm doesn’t have an effect on you or your fragile heart. Marcus mistakes your silence as a side effect of your head injury, reassuring you that the stitches and a couple of painkillers will make you feel better. 

Maybe they’ll help with the external wound, but the internal ones? From this universe and Max’s universe, Veracruz’s and Dave’s and all the other times you’ve been hurt, stressed out, and absolutely terrified? Those won’t be going away any time soon. You privately doubt they’ll ever truly go away at all.

You find the cube when you’re ushered into one of the offices to wait for a nurse, sitting on the counter in-between a jar of cotton balls and tongue depressors. The part of you that isn’t on the verge of crying wants to laugh because of course it’s waiting for you here. Of course you’d find it only after the distressing truth is revealed. 

Inhaling a ragged breath, you sneak one last peek at Marcus talking to some of the nurses outside the room, a friendly grin on his face. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen your Brown Eyes smile so brightly, totally at ease. He doesn’t seem tired or worn out or rough around the edges. No tension in his shoulders from carrying the weight of the world.

A question takes shape in your mind right as you twist the cube, igniting your insecurities all at once like a wildfire: how many Brown Eyes are happier and better off out there without you in the picture?

~~

The pool water is blue and crystalline, refreshingly cool against your calves, bringing a smile to your face as you lightly kick your feet. Sunlight filters in through the overhead trees, caressing your arms, and you didn’t think it was possible to find the perfect balance of temperature between hot and cold but this particular spot right here on the tiled edge of the pool is absolutely perfect. 

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Nico gazes at you from the other side of the pool, black turtleneck clinging tightly to his broad shoulders, brown eyes knocking the air from your lungs with their piercing intensity. He smirks, a little smug around the edges, as if he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you.

And if you could breathe, you’d laugh at yourself because you’re so gone for this man. All it takes is one look and your heart is his.

“You’re not so bad looking yourself,” you say with a teasing arch of your eyebrows.

Nico’s gaze lowers and you might think he’s shy as he trails his fingertips over the water’s surface if not for the lingering smirk. You watch the ripples, how they distort his reflection, and for a second he looks like another man. Another man so very much like Nico, and yet so very different. Hair a little shorter, features a little softer with youth, eyes a little more expressive. 

You blink and there’s your Nico again. He reminds you of the sun–blazing and passionate, unignorable, and always out of reach no matter how hard you try to close the distance. 

Sunken in the depths of the pool, the cube waits for you to make a decision.

Nico starts muttering about future renovations he’d like to see done to the house looming behind him–a massive, rectangular structure, all white in color with large glass windows viewing straight into the living room and kitchen–even though you both know he’ll never be the type to settle down and establish roots.

It’s easy enough to tune him out, hypnotized by the sight far below your swishing feet. Dio claimed the cube showed up exactly when and where you needed it. So, what does it say about this universe, that the cube would choose such a low resting place?

You’re not paying attention to Nico, until–

“A fireplace would be nice, don’t you agree, mi sirenita?” he’s saying, still making ripples with his fingertips. “We could make love by the fire on winter nights…”

Make love. Those are emotional words, affectionate and tender. They’re sugar sweet on his tongue. Blissfully warm. You could listen to him speak for hours and hours.

Something twists unpleasantly in your chest. You wonder if this is how Icarus felt when he flew too close to the sun, wanting to linger in the beauty of it all so badly he stopped caring about the consequences.

“I’d like that.” There’s a tremor to your voice which immediately catches his attention, and you can feel his eyes on you, steady and burning, even though you don’t look up to meet them. “It sounds like a nice home.”

“Yes,” he agrees after a long moment spent scrutinizing you. “I’ve never had a home before. Never really wanted one, to be honest. But I think…there is something appealing about the idea of sharing one with you.”

That unpleasant pain twists sharper, and you understand now why the cube waits for you at the bottom of the pool. It’s to remind you that just like Icarus, no matter how much you wish or how far you stretch your hands out, you’ll never touch the sun. Sooner or later, as long as the cube remains unsolved, you’re destined to get burned.

You push off the edge, plunging underwater without a second thought. Your eyes sting and your clothes stretch and expand, but down, down, down you go. Arms reaching out, legs kicking. Sirenita has always loved the water and it’s only because of her routine of weekly swims that your lungs don’t seize up before you reach the bottom and the cube is back in your hands again.

When you turn it this time, anger burns in your veins. This place was too beautiful, too seductive, too damn tempting. It doesn’t feel like a victory anymore to switch universes. Not when your heart tears a little more with every man you fall for and must leave behind.

Home, you think desperately, just before you pop out of existence, recalling your apartment where Marcus’ things have slowly, gradually become intermixed with yours. I just want to go home.

~~

Blood.

There is so, so much blood.

Hands restrain your arms, a knee in the center of your back keeping you pinned to the concrete floor. Your assailant’s grip tightens when you struggle, bruising your wrists while they press more of their weight on you, crushing your ribcage.

Cuts litter your face and arms, stinging against the chill of the autumn air, but you barely notice the pain. All you can see, all you can focus on, is Joel.

A beaten and bloody mess, barely holding onto consciousness by a mere thread, making this god-awful wheezing sound with every breath. His brown eyes are open, but glossed over, unseeing, body sprawled out on the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut. A scarlet pool forms beneath him, drip by drip flowing freely from his injuries.

“Joel,” you rasp, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes. You just want him to look at you, to tell you what to do because everything is falling apart and he always knows the right thing to say to calm you down. He’s always been the only one who knew how to make the pain of this hellhole of a world go away.

A figure crouches down next to Joel, face unrecognizable beneath the hood of their coat, a crowbar in their hand slick with freshly spilt blood.

It was supposed to have been a regular, run-of-the-mill supply run. Get in, get out, and head back to Jackson. It was supposed to have been a beautiful day with nice weather and even nicer company. The first time you and Joel have been alone in weeks without anybody else from the community needing your attention. 

The old shipping warehouse some of the community’s scouts found last week had been easy to break into. (Too easy, you’ll realize in hindsight.) Inside had been a little like a treasure trove of miscellaneous items—books, technology, canned goods, pieces of nostalgia from a lifetime before the outbreak. 

You’d found a box of old movies, covered in dust with most of the discs cracked, and started asking Joel about them while he packed his bag with whatever he deemed worth bringing back. The mood had been light, both of you bantering back and forth. 

“Admit it, Brown Eyes,” you’d taunted, holding up a dvd with a couple kissing on the front, “this is how you would have wooed me if we’d had normal lives. Dinner and a movie, maybe walk me up to my front door and try to sneak a kiss, hmm?”

Joel huffed a laugh through his nose. “I don’t think anybody living in this century says wooed anymore, sunshine.” A pause. “But yeah. That sounds about right. You would have been completely and totally wooed.”

And then a gunshot obliterated the tender moment, bullet slicing through the cartilage of Joel’s knee, dropping him with a howl of agony.

A pair of figures in dark clothes and hoods emerged from the shadows. The taller of the two disarmed you and delivered several nasty slashes with a knife before you could even think of defending yourself. They said nothing, gave away no hints of their identities.

Fighting back against the weight on your back proved fruitless. Helplessly, you were forced to watch the unknown figure pull out a crowbar and slam it against Joel’s body, forced to listen to every sickening crack of bone, every whimper and grunt. Panic clawed at your lungs, heart threatening to beat out of your chest, and you’d wanted to scream but couldn’t find your breath, couldn’t understand what the hell was happening. Why it was happening. 

“What do you want?” you ask, tremors racking your body, eyes locked on Joel’s across the gap of distance, still silently begging him to say something, do something. 

The hooded stranger’s head tilts, acknowledging your question but doesn’t provide an answer to it.  Instead, they trail the edge of the crowbar over Joel’s face, smearing the blood like it’s paint on a canvas.

“Stop it,” you spit out, teeth clicking together. “Leave us the hell alone! I swear to God I’ll kill you—”

The rest of your threat is cut off by the shifting of pressure on your spine and lungs as the second unknown entity leans forward, mouth near your ear so close you can feel their hot breath on your marred cheek. “God stopped listening a long time ago.”

His voice sounds like he regularly gargles with rocks. The blood rushes in your ears, head spinning, and panic rolls through your body, an icy, nauseating wave. He’s made a mistake though, face so close to the back of your head, and you rear up with a battle cry, skull busting his nose with an echoing crack.

The man’s grip loosens. You take advantage of the moment of weakness, squirming like mad and managing a solid elbow to his stomach. Rolling over, you grapple with the nameless man, using your smaller flexibility against his thicker bulk, screaming curses at him the whole while. 

Your hands are still trembling, jittery with shock, and it takes two attempts to snatch the knife from his waistband—your knife he stole from you, the one with the engraving of a sun on the handle—before burying the blade home in his chest, puncturing his heart with a wicked sneer on your lips.

There isn’t time to celebrate the win. In one fluid motion, fueled by a volatile cocktail of momentum and adrenaline, you push his body off and seize the gun tucked in the holster at his hip, aiming at his partner.

You pull the trigger, an explosion of sound rattling every bone in your body, and then the second attacker is knocked backwards off their feet, hood slipping off to reveal a young woman with a scarred face, a gaping hole in the center of her chest gushing red. You feel more than hear your heavy exhale of air, ears still ringing, panic still clawing at your nerve endings. You have no idea who they were, what they wanted except to clearly release their pent-up aggressions upon you and—

“Joel,” you breathe, setting the gun aside and crawling across the floor. Your hands hover over his body, wanting to touch but fuck there’s so much blood. It seeps through the fabric of your jeans where you’re kneeled next to him, warm and sticky, coats his face and his backside. He’s still making that awful whistling, wheezing sound as he fights for each breath.

“Oh fuck, Joel,” your voice reaches a new pitch, hysteria creeping in. “Oh God. I–You can’t—Please Joel, don’t leave me. Not like this. Not like this.”

There’s no indication he hears your pleas. No fluttering of his eyes, no twitching of his fingers when you reach for them, nothing at all.

A whine burns a hole in your throat. He needs help. He needs a hospital. Something that is already hard to find in this world overrun by an incurable infection. But a working one? Damn near impossible.

And even if you could find one, you don’t have the strength to get him there on your own. Which means…Which means he’s going to…

“No,” you choke out, fear twisting your stomach into knots. “Damnit Joel, please get up. Look at me, Joel. Look. At. Me!”

But instead of looking at you, of showing you those beautiful brown eyes you love and adore, his breathing hitches and slows, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.

You press your forehead against his temple, uncaring of the blood smearing across your skin, dousing your hair. “Joel, don’t do this,” you sob, teardrops raining down upon his face. “Stay with me. Just a little longer.”

We deserve a better story than this.

Recognition bursts in your mind, a lightning strike eliciting a sharp gasp. That’s…not the first time you’ve thought of those words. There had been another moment, so very long ago, where the situation had been reversed and you were the one dying. Where Joel had brought you a cube to make the pain go away.

No. Not Joel.

Pero. 

You lean back on your heels, a bead of blood sliding down your forehead and along the ridge of your nose before following the tearstained track down your cheek. 

It happened again, you think, blinking slowly. I forgot who I really am.

Looking down at Joel is a mistake that threatens your fragile grip on your identity. His body is still. Silent. He’s…gone. He’s dead, and yet you can still feel the phantom touch of his hands around your waist, his lips on yours with the roughness of his beard scratching at your chin.

You turn away with a scream, slamming your fists against the cement, unleashing the multitudes of anger and pain and heartache contained within your body. 

Minutes or possibly hours later, you sit there, breathing through your nose because your throat is raw and inflamed. Everything hurts beyond words. Your back and shoulders ache from the man pinning you down, several ribs possibly cracked. Knuckles split open, bits of bone peeking out.

This universe has reduced you to a bleeding and quivering mess of agony, surrounded by bodies, one of them your Brown Eyes.

And still you push yourself onto your feet. Still you scrutinize the warehouse shelves and boxes. Still you keep looking for the cube. Your heart is numb, your hopes shattered, but there’s nothing worth staying here for. Not anymore. 

Your muscles throb with each step, but maybe there is a higher power listening after all because somehow, miraculously, you find the golden cube on a shelf next to a stack of books. Your shoulders tense when you notice the titles match the ones discussed with Ezra. Cloud Atlas on top of the pile. 

The cube vibrates in your hands when you grab it. A short wobble of movement you’re unsure what to think of. If it’s trying to soothe you or if it’s laughing at your pain. And then you think: Does it even matter? 

Joel’s still going to die, Sunshine’s still going to mourn, and you’re still going to carry the trauma from this universe into the next one. 

When you turn the cube with your blood-soaked hands, one thing is certain: you’re losing this fight.

You can’t solve the Infinity Cube. You can’t save the thief’s heart or reunite him with his dear. It’s all too much. There’s too much at stake, too much pressure on your chest, too much suffering. You’re never going to make it home, never going to see Marcus again and you can’t change it–you can’t stop it.

The thief’s punishment will continue on and on and on…

…

…

…

Unless…

Unless it’s possible the cycle which began with one Brown Eyes’ mistake, can be undone with the help of another Brown Eyes. 

Maybe you’ve been a fool this whole time, trying to do this all by yourself.

Maybe there is still a little hope left to believe in after all.

…

…

…

“Javi, what do you know about the multiverse?”

[wardenparker]

What Happens in Vegas, part 2

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 12.3k Warnings: Mentions of partner death and divorce, hurt/comfort, fertility issues/illness/pregnancy symptoms, if I ever write a story where Marcus doesn’t use his powers to undress his partner assume something is wrong with me, intimate piercings, oral sex (f and m receiving), soft!dom Marcus, fingering, a dash of praise kink, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex. Summary: It is time for honesty, as you and Marcus decide what your future will hold and how to mesh your lives together. Notes: We’ve had this one on the back burner for quite some time, and we’re so glad that it was finally time to break it out to share with you all! As always, thanks for reading and for being such lovely folx 🧡🧡 Part 1 is right Here!

Once in the safety of the elevator Marcus wraps his arms around you again, this time out of sheer protectiveness. All this insanity is centered around both of you, and he feels like maybe he can absorb some of the impact by keeping you bundled up. “That was...enlightening.” What else can he really say? “I guess there’s no real place to lay the blame.”

You snicker softly. “We can blame it on the alcohol.” You sigh, leaning some of your weight against Marcus. “We don’t– well, shit, I’m supposed to check out of my room today, so I guess we better check out this room they got us and have a talk.” You venture.

Marcus glances down at the room number written on the key and presses the corresponding number on the elevator's keypad. He doesn't let you out of his arms when you don't indicate that you want to step away, just leaning against the elevator wall with you leaning against him in turn. "You looked beautiful," he mumbles, not sure if he's even allowed to say that. "In your dress, I mean. I mean you always look beautiful, but the dress – it was good..." Ugh. He hates how he rambles when he gets nervous. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he gathers his words. "Last night. You looked beautiful last night."

You smile, remember how he had stumbled over his words when you and he were together. “Thank you. You looked very handsome. Still do.” You add since he is wearing the same suit as last night. “Although I’m sure you want to change into something more comfortable.”

"I would kill for jeans and a t-shirt," he admits, cracking a grin. "And a coffee. Not the watered-down crap they had downstairs. Real espresso. What are the odds this room they got us has a good coffeemaker in it?"

“50/50.” You quip, walking down the hall until you reach the door. “Or maybe….” The door is larger than the average door, looking like you’ve arrived to a suite instead of an average room.  Marcus inserts the key and the door swings open. “Oh God, they’ve gotten us the honeymoon suite.” You breathe out when you step inside and glance around.

There's an absurd amount of rose petals strewn around, an ice bucket holding champagne, and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries right there when you walk in the door. There's a coffee table further into the room laden with all kinds of trinkets that the hotel must leave out for every couple that rents the room. A banner in Susan's handwriting reads Congratulations Mr and Mrs Moreno! and has been signed by all of the people who were in the chapel with you in the video. "Well I'm glad they're getting a kick out of this," Marcus grumbles, his ears burning.

“It’s sweet.” You acknowledge, sighing and wishing for a moment that this was real. “I–” you are nervous about bringing it up but it needs to be addressed. “What do you want to do, Marcus?” You ask softly. “Obviously I don’t think you would have done this sober, so, I’m not going to hold you to this– this– whatever this is.” You choke on the words, but keep your voice steady.

"You sound like you want to stay married." The observation has him hesitating, standing in the mass of flower petals on the rug and looking over at you like it's prom night and you've just come down the stairs in that light blue and silver dress you loved because the beads reminded you of snow. He can feel how soft his expression is despite how wide his eyes have blown. He had never for a minute considered the idea that this was something you might have actually wanted.

You give him a sad smile, not wanting to bring up your past. “What I want doesn’t matter.” You insist, looking over at the window so you don’t see the rejection in his eyes. “This wasn’t something that was planned out and I’ll understand.” You promise, thinking about how this could completely upset his life.

“It absolutely does matter.” Marcus insists. Pieces of last night are starting to fall into place, along with some of this morning. It’s only a few paces for him to be standing next to you, with one hand gently touching your arm. “I texted my daughter last night. I told her what was happening. So it’s not like this is something that we’re just going to sweep under the rug.” Taking the risk on stepping around you, he puts one crooked finger under your chin and makes you meet his eyes. “Whatever happens, we’re going to decide on it together, okay? Which means we have to be honest with each other.”

“Oh god? Your daughter? She must be freaking out.” Your eyes fill with panic and you squeeze them shut. “I’m so sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have– this is–” You break off with a soft sob as you imagine how much his daughter must hate you. “Just–” You sigh. “Wanting to marry you was never a question for me. But you–I understand. I wasn’t it for you.”

“C’mere.” Marcus opens his arms, enveloping you in a full body bear hug. He trusts his instincts, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.” He says after a pause. Once of his hands runs up and down your back in a steady rhythm. “I’m sorry I was bad at explaining things to you. But we were 19 and I didn’t know how to tell you how confused I was.” This is somehow easier without looking you in the eyes, but it seems dishonest so he pulls away to look down at you. “I had every intention of marrying you.” The truth, out loud, after so many years makes him feel like even more of an asshole. “I didn’t plan on meeting her. I didn’t know she was out there.  But...you’re the only two women I’ve ever loved. Just you two.” Come on, Marcus. Spit it out. “Then...I saw an article about you in a newspaper last year. And then you were on a talk show. I found your website. You were everywhere again and I realized how much I missed you. Not just...not just missed having a person. I missed you. So please don’t think I don’t care about you.”

It both broke your heart and helped mend it knowing that Marcus had been going to marry you. You knew that the heart wants what the heart wants as the old saying goes. Letting out a shuddering sigh, your body relaxes against him and your arms come around his waist hesitantly. Marcus was a good and honorable man, had been when he was a teenager. Of course the idea of falling in love with someone else had probably confused and terrified him. For so many years the idea had been set in stone that you were each other's person, that someone new had knocked him on his ass. From everything you had read about her, she was a wonderful woman who had loved Marcus and their daughter. A candle in the wind that had been blown out too early. “I– after your wife....passed, I–” You bite your lip and wonder if he's going to hate you for this, having wanted to do something, anything to help but wanting to respectfully keep your distance. "I was the one that had those meals delivered to your house." You confess softly. You knew from when your parents had passed that people brought more food than you could deal with right after they heard or to the reception following the funeral. Well meaning and heartfelt, but after that, their lives went back to normal while you tried to figure out exactly what your new normal was. Marcus Moreno's wife dying had been front page news nationwide, and you had hated that he was left to flounder with a seven year old. So you had quietly arranged to have meals delivered to their house for a while starting a few days after the funeral, asking them not to say who was the silent donor.

“Oh...” The word punches out of him and for a second he’s that heartbroken young version of himself that had discovered the meals and cried over them in his kitchen every time, wondering who had been so generous. Over the years, he had had many theories as to who had sent them, but it never would have occurred to him that it was you. “I always...” He pauses the thought, getting emotional all over again. “Those were a lifesaver. I had a hard time getting used to doing everything myself and... having one less thing on my plate made a huge difference.” His forehead drops to lean against yours, eyes momentarily closed so he doesn’t tear up. That wouldn’t help the situation at all. “Thank you.”

Your arms tighten around him, relieved that he hadn't taken your gesture the wrong way. "You're welcome." You whisper, not wanting to add anything more to that. It hadn't been for the recognition or for him to feel in some way in your debt, but you couldn't keep a secret like that from him when you both were trying to decide what to do about your current situation. "I never actually said it, but I'm so sorry for your loss, Marcus." You murmur quietly, the words muffled against the fabric of his suit, the same suit that he had married you in. You feel better, now that you've had this heart to heart. Even if Marcus didn't want to stay married to you, after all you were virtual strangers after twenty years apart, you felt like this wasn't something that you would regret. Old wounds and self doubts from that time had vanished, leaving your heart less scared than it had been and for that you would be grateful.

This time when Marcus sighs, it’s with a slight shiver and a mile’s worth of confusion. “What are we going to do?” He asks.  Honestly he has no idea. He doesn’t regret sleeping with you again, but he’s guilt ridden at the idea that you’ve been forced into something so life changing. He’ll straighten things out with Missy once you’ve managed to talk things through here. The idea that you might actually want this is seeping slowly into his bones and he has a voice in the back of his head that says he doesn’t deserve any kind of relationship with you since he broke your heart.

"The obvious choice would be to quietly get divorced." You pull away and turn, kicking off the heels you had worn as you walk over to the window. You didn't want to see the relief in Marcus's face when you are the one to propose it. He had skirted around it but was too much of a gentleman to be the one to voice it first. He had even said something about you keeping the ring before you ever knew it wasn't a joke. "I– surely this has happened plenty of times. Maybe they would even allow an annulment since we were obviously far more intoxicated than we should have been." You look out over the lights of the Vegas strip and blink back the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I'm not going to force you to stay married to me, you don't deserve that."

“You keep saying that like being married to you would be the worst thing in the world.” He protests, and all of a sudden it hits him like a freight train. He’s been trying to get you to say you want him, and he hadn’t really realized it. He hasn’t jumped on the idea of a divorce at all since it’s been brought up because he’s missed you. Miracle Guy is always saying that you don’t say anything drunk that you don’t feel when you’re sober and Marcus hates that his annoying best friend might be completely right this time. “What if we tried it?” He asks quietly. Almost afraid of what he’s saying but at the same time resolved to see what you think of this idea. “I mean...I don’t know where you’re living right now or anything like that...there’s logistics and stuff. But...what if?”

Your eyes are wide when you whirl around to face him, shock written on your face. "Wha— are you kidding?" You ask, praying that he isn't but then again, this is Marcus. He wouldn't joke around about something as serious as this. "Would you want that?" You ask quietly. "Not so there isn't a press release or to save face, but do you want to stay married? To me?" You bite your lip, feeling like you are naked in front of the entire world rather than trying to admit how you feel to one man, but this is the man that you have loved for your entire life. "I–I moved on, dated plenty, fell in love, got married." You need him to know that this hasn't just been about him, that you've had a life outside of him and the day he broke your heart. "Got divorced, but I've always kept you in my heart. I never hated you or stopped loving you."

“We’ve both had our own lives.” He agrees, taking one careful step toward you. He doesn’t want to spook you, but he also doesn’t want to shout this conversation between you across the living room of your suite. “Maybe this is the universe telling us that now we should be having a life together.” He believed in fate wholeheartedly, believing that fate brought his late wife into his path and Missy into their lives when they had struggled so hard to get pregnant. Fate’s hand was here, too. “You were my first love, and you’ve always had a place in my heart. Maybe...” Marcus takes one more careful step. “We said we loved each other on that video. Which means we must have talked about it. And...marriage is about communication and honesty as well as love.”

You watch his eyes, solemn and serious behind his glasses as he watches you. Gauging your reaction to his thoughts. Nodding, you yield, taking your own measured step towards him. "I wish I could remember what we said. I'm sure it would help if I could just know what we said to each other." You sigh, confessing your one hang up to all of this. "I just– I don't want to compete with her memory, Marcus." You whisper, struggling to keep your eyes on his. "I can't do that. I don't want to do that. It's not fair to me, or to you." He had reminded you it was about communication and honesty and you were laying your cards on the table.

Marcus feels himself nod, knowing you are completely right. But at the same time, there was a flip side to that coin. “And I don’t want to be competing with the memories you have of me.” It felt odd to say out loud. That your memories of him were different than the man he is now, even if he was still so similar to who he had been there in many ways. “You’re...you’re so amazing. You always have been and from what I know about you now, you’re doing great work and really succeeding. You’re not second to anyone. Not to me.” With one more step forward, he reaches out to take your hand. This is becoming so real with every passing second and his heart is pounding in his ears. “If we do this, it would be about who we are now. Memories are memories and that’s great, but I don’t want to get caught up in the fact that things turned out differently than we expected.”

You nod, understanding his point completely. "Still so smart." You murmur, inching closer and reaching up with your free hand to cup his cheek. You sigh when his eyes flutter at the contact and your pinkie sweeps over the stubble on his jaw. "I want to do this...if you do." You admit, your gaze focusing on his lips again and you want to kiss him. "I want to stay married to you and make this work. I want to be with you."

For Marcus, the scariest part of this wasn’t waking up this morning beside you, or how mad you had been in the beginning, or how upset with all of your old friends he is. It’s admitting to himself that he would be sad if you walked away from him. That the shock of everything was actually surpassed by how happy it is making him. How his tipsy texts to Missy were filled with so much hope, and despite her understandable confusion, she was doing what she could to be supportive. He would have to call her later and explain everything, but right now you’re right in front of him, telling him you care – and this time his head is spinning without the hangover. “You’re okay with being a stepmom?” He hears himself ask, cursing himself for ruining the moment but knowing this was the nail in the coffin. If you aren’t okay with his daughter, then this has no chance of working.

Your brow furrows and you know he sees the sorrow in your eyes. You hope he doesn't mistake it for not wanting to be a stepmom. "I– my ex and I tried for years to have kids." You admit quietly, remembering the heartbreak when you got your period every month. "It was the reason that we got divorced, he – he wanted kids and I couldn't give them to him." Your breath catches. "I don't – I've always wanted kids but I won't try to take over her mother’s place. Stepmom would be fine." You bite your lip and try to keep it from trembling. "I can't give you another baby though, are you– can you live with that?"

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing he says, tugging you into his arms. He remembers how hard it was to try and try and feel like the world was against them for almost two years. “That must have been hell.” When he leans back to press a kiss to your forehead, he’s smiling a reassuring smile. “I don’t need anything else.” He tells you softly. “I just want you.”

Your doubts fall away, everything that had kept you from really believing that this was happening was gone. Your fingers curl into the hair at the base of his neck. "Marcus, " you look up at him and smile. "Kiss me. Please." You beg, wanting to remember this kiss that wasn't for show, wasn't for anyone else but the two of you.

“With pleasure,” his smile turns into a giddy grin. “Mrs. Moreno.” There’s no hesitation in the kiss - one hand reeling you in to him by your waist and the other tipping your chin back ever so slightly so he can taste you as soon as you open up to him.

You can't help but moan, your mouth opening and a whimper slipping out when his tongue flutters against yours. Your hands slide up to his back, fingers digging into the fabric while you try to get as close to him as you possibly can. Your entire body ignites, and you feel that pull of need.

Marcus echoes your moan, pulling you up in his arms until the only way to get physically closer is to be inside you - which is bringing his body back to life in all sorts of delicious ways. He’s fairly certain there’s a sofa behind him and takes a chance that he’s right - walking you back two steps until he tips backward with just enough warning to pick you up off your feet so you land on his lap. No one could ever say he doesn’t know how to use his strength to his advantage.

Your dress rides up your thighs, letting you straddle him easier. Making you shudder when his hands are warm on your bare skin. Your arms wind around his neck and you lift up to your knees so you can press closer, holding the back of his head while you give in to the kiss and groaning when his hands squeeze your flesh. "Marcus," you mumble against his lips, your tongue licking into his mouth and your cunt throbbing with need. "I want– fuck, I need you." You pull your mouth away from his and start kissing along his jaw. One hand coming back around him and sliding down his chest to reach between the two of you and your fingers find his belt. "I want to remember this."

Tangling one of his hands in yours to stop your eager pulling at his belt, Marcus wraps his lips around your pulse, sucking on your skin and nipping at it, tongue soothing away the sting. "Let me take care of you," he insists. It's not that he doesn't want to be inside you right fucking now, it's that he's not going to have sex with his wife for the first time (that he remembers) on a sofa. His free hand lifts from its grip on your hip and flexes, making him grin cheekily when you gasp at the feeling of your dress being unzipped without his hands on you. Katanas weren't the only metal he ever used his powers on. Reveling in your surprise, Marcus takes an extra second of concentration to undo the metal clasp of your bra as well. His eyes tip up to yours, blown black with anticipation and lust.

"That's new." You giggle, even more turned on by that move. Marcus hadn't tried his powers on you when you were younger. His mother cautioned him to not abuse his powers and his sometimes lack of control over them had made him wary of trying manipulate your clothing. He grins and winks at you, making you whimper at the self assuredness he has come to possess. "Jesus." You pant, wondering if he remembers that one little detail about you that was so different from when you were together the first time. He would find out soon enough you supposed, and hoped that he wasn't too shocked by it. You had definitely gone through a wild phase in college, but you didn't regret it.

He’d have time to be pleased with himself later, right now he cared much more about the way you were subtly grinding down in his lap, making him harder with every passing second. “Shit, sweetheart.” He huffs, bucking up against you before he can stop himself. His hands skim under the bunched hen of your dress, nudging the material. His powers nudge at him a little and he dismisses it as a reminder of your dress’s zipper, but the feeling is coming from somewhere different. Marcus quirks one eyebrow at you, intrigued by your expression of amusement, and pulls your dress over your head - tossing it and your bra several feet away. “Jesus, hermosa!” He groans, his hands immediately coming up to cup your breasts, mesmerized by the piercings he definitely did not remember being there before. How he didn’t remember them last night, he doesn’t know. “How do you keep getting hotter?”

You smirk, loving the awe that is in his eyes as he stares at the hoops in your nipples. “You like?” You tease, feeling how much he likes them from the way that his hips bucked up again when you arched into his touch, pushing your tits into his hands harder. “I got them in college– after we –” You weren’t going to keep feeling embarrassed about your past, or trying to deny it. “Took my clit piercing out because my ex hated it, but I couldn’t get rid of these.” You admit, remembering how he had hated them, refused to touch your tits when you had them in. But it was for you, not him, and you had stubbornly refused to give in to his wants.

Marcus almost pouts over the fact that he was losing out on playing with a clit piercing, but when he trains his eyes on your tits and watches you writhe with pleasure as he twists the little hoops with his powers, he’s so hard it doesn’t matter anymore. “Need to taste you,” he mumbles into your skin, tongue laving over your nipples where he’s been playing with them. Marcus lifts you off his lap, turning a little to settle you down in the pile of throw pillows on the sofa. “Will you let me taste you, hermosa?”

You moan, his fingers curling under your panties and you nod, lifting your hips up so that he can drag them down your thighs. You spread your legs wider, modesty and being shy throw out the window. You bite your lip and squirm, your own hands on your breasts while Marcus rocks back, hastily shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it down on the floor with no thought. “Fuck you look pretty like that.” He groans, flicking the buttons of his shirt open and taking off his glasses to toss on the floor, hopefully to not get crushed later on. You whine, needing him to hurry up and you let go of one of your breasts to slide it down to your mound, circling your clit with your fingers while you watch him strip.

“Nuh-uh,” Marcus grabs your hand, pulling your fingers away from your clit and licks them clean with a stern look on his face. “Only I get to touch and taste you right now.” He tells you and revels in your moan. Positioning your ankles on the edge of the couch, he takes in your spread-open pussy with a lascivious smirk. “So fucking pretty,” he praises before leaning down and sucking your clit into his mouth.

Your hips jerk up and a squeal breaks free at the insistent feel of his mouth. Control looks so fucking sexy on Marcus. The fumbling boy that was asking if what he was doing was okay was gone, replaced by a man who was confident in his ability to please. You squeeze your breast and moan when his tongue flicks over the sensitive bundle of nerves, closing your eyes. Only for them to spring back open in shock when he pulls his mouth away and lightly slaps your folds. "Eyes on me, baby." His lust-rough voice makes you shiver and you meet his satisfied gaze, making him quirk his eyebrows, pleased at your obedience before he puts his mouth back on you.

Part of Marcus had been slightly concerned that the more dominant style of pleasure he’d adopted since knowing you wouldn’t be something you enjoyed, but from the way you are panting and mewling above him as he spears his tongue as deep into you as he can manage, he knows now that it’s more than welcome. He hums his approval into your folds, his nose intentionally bumping against your clit with every stroke of his tongue. He could look up at you like this forever – shivering and shuddering but keeping your eyes on him like he ordered. “Don’t even think about cumming until I tell you.” He punctuates the sentence by driving two fingers deep inside you, sliding along your tight folds gripping him so well that he moans along with you.

You whimper and try to grind your hips down on him, but he throws his free arm around your hips and jerks them up high, practically holding your ass up while he utterly destroys you with his mouth. Pleas and praises fall from your lips as you try to stave off your impending orgasm. "Oh God, oh fuck Marcus." You whine, watching him pump his fingers into your fluttering cunt and his nose is pressed against the neatly trimmed hair above your clit. "So good, so fucking good." Your walls clench around him and you squeal again when he curls his fingers up. "Oh please, God – I'm so close." You ramble, scratching at the couch and trying to keep from cumming so hard that your thighs are starting to shake. "Please baby, please let me cum."

It’s the first of what he intends to be many orgasms today, so he eases a third finger into you and watches your face contort for a second before nibbling on your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me baby. Wanna drown in this taste. In you.”

His permission given, you fly off the cliff and wail his name while your walls clamp down on his fingers. Flooding them with your juices and your entire body humming in pleasure while he keeps sucking on you. Making stars burst behind your eyes, you can't help but squeeze them shut and tilt your head back against the cushions while you thrash around in pleasure and make so much noise you are sure that there will be a noise complaint coming soon.

There are few things, in Marcus Moreno’s opinion, better than having a woman cum in his mouth. Something made even better by the fact that he knows he’ll have your scent lingering in his mustache for the rest of the day. He curls his fingers against that perfect spongy spot inside you and hums in delight as your second orgasm follows the first without warning. Hearing you scream his name might be the most musical sound he’s heard in a very long time. “Listen to you,” his voice is like honey. “Screaming my name for everybody to hear. Now they know you belong to me.”

He takes pity, taking his mouth off of you and slipping his fingers out to let you calm down while he savors the flood of your juices on his fingers, alternately kissing the insides of your thighs while he coos praises from where he kneels on the floor.

Your cunt throbs and your walls flutter around nothing now that he's pulled his fingers from you, the low sigh that you let out sounding as boneless as you feel. Your entire body relaxes with your eyes turning heavy and slipping closed from how good you feel. "Oh God." You whisper, reaching down and carding your fingers through his hair and lifting your head so you can look down at him. "I want– no, I need you inside me." You beg, looking over at the bed that was so beautifully set with rose petals. "Please, I want my husband to make love to me."

Marcus’s lips curl into a smile, much gentler than he had been a second ago and he stands up, cock red and weeping from neglect, hard as diamonds as it bobs a few inches from your face. He sees the hungry look in your eyes and shakes his head slightly – instead leaning down to scoop you up in his arms and carry you over to the bed. Marcus has absolutely no desire to pull back the covers, laying you down on top of the rose petals like a beautiful gift. He sighs, loving the sight of you like that, devastated and shaken from intense orgasms but beaming at him at the same time. “I love you,” he tells you, crawling up on the bed between your legs as they open for him. “I’m glad our classmates meddled. And I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you, sweetheart.”

You reach for him, your arms wrapping around his back, so much broader than the last time you remember him being over you like this. His body no longer lean and wiry with youth, but broad and filled out deliciously with age. “I love you.” You whisper, your heart beating like a drum in your chest from happiness. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” You assure him, leaning up to kiss him and drag him back down over you. Wanting the weight of him on top of you. “Want you to fuck me… husband.”

“So impatient when I’m trying to be romantic,” the chuckle comes from deep inside him, the same rough, lusty place that had him taking his cock in his cum slick hand, and pumping a few times before sliding the head through your folds. “So wet for me,” he groans, happy to know he was the one who had made you that way. “You ready for me, good girl?”

"Yes." You whine out, eager to feel him stretch you out again. You know you had him last night, but you didn't remember more than a few flashes of memories and the ache you had felt when you woke up. You cup his cheek and watch his face when he starts to slowly push inside you. Your own mouth falling open with a needy moan filling the air while your walls give to accommodate him, making your hips lift slightly to make sure that every inch of him is inside you when his hips are flush against your own.

“ Fuck,” he bites out the curse as he bottoms out inside you, knowing he looks as absolutely wrecked as he feels just from being inside you again. “So tight, hermosa. So tight around my cock.” The authoritative voice from a few minutes ago rumbles from his core as he lifts one of your legs up onto his shoulder, watching your mouth drop open even wider. He draws back again until only his tip is still inside you, snapping his hips back against yours with a pleased grunt, and then again to hear you moan. “That’s it, baby.” He leans down to kiss you, greedily drinking down every sound you make.

He's so fucking deep inside you. Making you feel like he's pushing up into your stomach and rearranging your insides with every hard thrust. You love it, love how he's not being gentle even though you know he's holding back. Now fully aware of why you ached for hours after you woke up,  you wanted to feel that way again. Loving how much he had changed over the years and it makes you crave to find out every way that he differed from the boy you knew. You gasp out on his next thrust. "Oh god!" You cry out when he changes the angle of his hips and hits directly against your g-spot.

Marcus focuses on that spot, loving the way you call out and wanting you to cum one more time for him before he lets his restraint snap. He knows he’s different in bed than he had been when you knew him - no longer worried about being enough or whether or not he was reading your body correctly. He knew he was stronger now, more confident, and a better lover; and he was careful to keep himself in check so he wouldn’t go too hard this time. He nips and sucks at every bit of skin he can reach as the sound of skin smacking against skin fills the room. Unable to resist, Marcus focuses just enough of his powers on those little hoops through your perfect nipples to make them hum and vibrate, shoving you closer to the edge.

“M-Mar-cus!” You cry out, the very air being pushed from your lungs every time he drives deep inside you. Your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving crescent shaped marks in his flesh and you clench down on him when he moans. “Yes, yes, yes!” You scream out when your entire world shatters and the subatomic explosion in your core radiates white hot and all-consuming as you come apart for him.

He grunts, held so tight by the way that you’re clamping down on him that he can barely move and it’s absolutely delicious. Marcus makes one more thrust before he’s groaning your name and painting your still-spasming walls with his seed. He drops his head against your shoulder, panting and wonderfully spent.

Your leg slides down off his shoulder and you let it wrap around his hip while your hand glides up and down his back. The touch is soothing - his skin under your fingers and as you relearn the planes of his back. “I love you.” You whisper, holding him close and enjoying the weight of him on top of you.

“I love you too,” he breathes a kiss on your lips, running one hand up and down your side. The contours of your body have changed as you got older and he is determined to memorize your body as soon as possible. “Don’t want to crush you,” he murmurs into your kiss, shifting his body off of you but tugging you close to his side as he lays down.

You sigh and roll over with him. Resting your head on his shoulder and stroke his chest gently. “So, I have to admit, I never expected this to happen at the reunion.” You giggle, unable to believe that this is real.

“I don’t think anyone did.” He agrees, but laughs. “Well, maybe Susan.” He plants a kiss on the top of your head before lifting himself off the mattress and padding off to the bathroom for a damp wash cloth to clean you up.  When he re-emerges he has the bottle of champagne in hand as well.

You giggle again and raise your eyebrow at him. “Ready to drink already?” You ask playfully, making him snort in amusement. “At some point we are going to have to pack up our old rooms to check out.” You remind him.

“And I have to call Missy.” Marcus nods his head, disappointed to have to come back to reality. “She’s fantastic,” he assures you, squeezing your hand and kissing your palm. “You’re going to love her. And she’ll love you. But drunk texts from your dad are no way to find out he’s in a relationship.”

“No it’s not.” You agree, standing up with a groan and taking the wash cloth so you can quickly clean up. “How about I get dressed and go pack up my room so you can have some privacy to talk to your daughter?” You ask, knowing that he would probably want to be alone for that conversation.

“Hurry back?” He’s pouting and he doesn’t care.

You smirk and lean in to kiss him once more. “I will. You will need to pack up your room too.” You remind him before you pull away to walk over to where your clothes had been flung.

“I’ll do it after I talk to Missy,” he promises. It takes a minute or two for him to track down his pants and find the room key, holding the spare hostage until you pay the ransom of three more kisses. “And then we’re gonna be naked for the rest of the day.”

You hum, smiling against his lips as you pluck the card from his fingers. “So I guess that means you don’t want to see the lingerie I brought just in case I got lucky?” You murmur.

“Minx.” He teases, but that fire is back in his eyes. “Put it on before I get back.”

You smirk and walk to the door. "Sure thing baby." You tease, winking at him before you open the door and disappear down the hallway.

******

In the weeks since returning from his reunion, Marcus had done his fair share of groveling. Missy had been at her abuela's while he was away and both of them were (understandably) fiercely upset with him for the way things happened. It was two full weeks before Missy stopped being mad at him, and only then had his mother agreed to be the one to host everyone for dinner. She had loved you when you and Marcus were teens and was glad to see that you were the one who was making him happy again. The night you'd all had dinner together she made ropa vieja and the biggest pot of rice and beans that Marcus had seen in years, and he knew exactly how glad she was to see you - your favourite foods laid out on the table for everyone to enjoy.

You'd agreed that you would keep your apartment until the end of the month, giving Missy time to adjust to you being around the house. She had warmed up to you quickly, finding you much more entertaining company than her dad for any number of things. She had even helped you unpack when you moved into the house with them after leaving your apartment.

These days Missy could be spotted teaching you her favourite cookie recipe and raiding your jewelry box some days before school. It warmed Marcus's heart to see the two of you bonding, relieving him in equal measure.

******

"You know, I'm so glad dad doesn't cook breakfast anymore." Missy rolls her eyes and you snicker conspiratorially. You love this little girl like she is your own. She's an easy girl to love and you are so thankful that it worked out that she doesn't hold your intrusion in her life against you.

“You aren't telling me that your dad is a bad cook, are you?" You ask, arching your eyebrow at him while you whisk the eggs for the omelets.

She rolls her eyes again. "Dad burned everything! We once ate mac and cheese for breakfast because that was all he could make without messing up."

"I do not burn everything!" Marcus has a very serious look on his face. "I would never, ever burn bacon."

You laugh and lean back, tilting your head so that Marcus can kiss you. "Mmmm." You smile against his lips and pull away so he can move past you. "Okay maybe not bacon but cracking eggs down the sink and throwing the shells in a bowl, Marcus?" You giggle, watching him flush and rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"That was one time!" he pouts, embarrassed. Missy was never going to let him live that down. "And that was a very stressful day, thank you very much." He shuffles over to the coffee pot when it dings, grateful to have a distraction. The smell is divine, those beans you love had turned his morning cup into something divine from the perfunctory wake-up it had been before. "Big mug or little, babe?" He asks you, pulling spoons out of the drawer and his favourite mug out of the cupboard.

"Little." You answer, your stomach feeling queasy. "I'm still not feeling one hundred percent." You admit, hating that you had this stomach bug that you couldn't seem to get over. You had been sick over the weekend and had put a damper on your plans and you were still feeling guilty over it.

Marcus still hadn't said anything about you not feeling well. He had tucked you in and gotten you plain things to eat and drink, letting you rest until you felt better. He dared to hope that he knew what was wrong - recognizing the little signs from years ago. He got out a little mug, fixed your coffee for you and slipped the mug down the counter, watching you carefully. "If you're still not feeling well maybe you should go to the doctor?" He suggests gently. A doctor would be able to confirm or squash his idea immediately, but he wouldn't push you.

You shake your head. "No, I don't need to go to the doctor." You’re still stubborn about seeing doctors after all those appointments that your ex had forced you to go to. It made you anxious for any type of clinical setting. You give Marcus a soft smile, and pick your cup up. "Thank you, sweetheart." You thank him as you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip. As soon as the hot beverage hits your lips your gag. Your stomach rolling and you drop the mug, shattering on the edge of the counter and you cover your mouth, running for the half bathroom that was down the hallway.

Marcus shifts gears quickly, grabbing a rag to scoop up the broken stoneware and toss the whole bundle in the trash. "Be right back," he tells Missy, hurrying down the hall after you.

He finds you bent over the toilet for the fourth time in four days and kneels down next to you to make sure there's no hair in your face or clothing soiled. "Babe?" His eyes betray how worried he is, but he tries not to show it on his face. "Was it the coffee?"

"Oh God." You moan, hanging your head and mouth waters again at just the mention of the coffee. "Did the creamer go bad?" You ask, cursing the fact that your stomach was so queasy and you couldn't shake this bug. You retch again, but luckily you hadn't eaten anything else so there wasn't anything more to come up.

"I brought it home yesterday." He runs his hand up and down your back, soothing and supportive. "I didn't want anything old in the house, just in case."

You pant, nodding while you reach up weakly and pull the handle for the toilet so the coffee and bile from your stomach start to flush down, resting your head and on your arm for a second before you look up at your husband. "I'm so sorry. I know this is annoying to deal with." You whisper, hating that he is having to take care of you.

"It's not." Marcus promises. Stepping away for just a second, he wets a washcloth with warm water and offers it to you to clean up. He's learned over the past few days that keeping a washcloth and your toothbrush nearby was a very good idea. "Don't apologize, love. But...I do think it might be more than a bug." He hates how much he hopes he's right. You had talked about it. It wasn't something in your plans. You had told him it was impossible. But he couldn't help but hope you might actually be pregnant.

You frown and immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion. "Cancer?" You whisper, your eyes widen, and you pray God wouldn't be so cruel as to do this to Marcus.

"No, baby." Marcus has to stop himself from laughing at how you went straight to the other side of the illness spectrum. He presses a kiss to your hair, breathing out slowly. "I think you might be pregnant."

You rear back, your frown fierce and you step out of his arms. "Marcus, I– we talked about this." You tell him flatly, trying not to raise your voice. Anger and sorrow swirling inside you. "I can't have kids, so I can't be pregnant." Your jaw sets and you look at him warily. "I knew– God, I knew that this would happen." You mumble.

Marcus sets himself down on the tile next to you, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. "I don't have my hopes up." A blatant lie. He absolutely does have his hopes up. "And I don't think it's likely," at least that was true. "But...I've been through this before, with Missy. I remember what it looks like. And I know not all pregnancies look the same, but humour me." His smile is soft, trying to be encouraging and as supportive as possible. "I'll go down to the store and grab a test. When it comes up negative like you think it will, we'll drop it and I'll give you foot rubs all night to apologize for even thinking it. Is that a deal?”

You want to say no. Want to scream that you've taken enough tests for a lifetime and cried enough tears when every single one of them came back negative. The doctors had never been able to tell you why you couldn't get pregnant, just that it wasn't happening. Of course it had caused some horrible arguments that had eventually led to your divorce. However, Marcus isn't your ex, and you see nothing but worry in his eyes. So you find yourself nodding, biting your lip as you agree. "Okay." You tell him quietly, feeling him squeeze your hand gently.

"Okay." He sighs with relief that you're willing to take the test, knowing that it's a hard thing for you to agree to. He helps you up off the floor, staying with you while you brush your teeth, and then tucks you into the couch with the remote in your hand before he heads out. Missy has already put the eggs and veggies from the forgotten omelets back in the fridge and gotten herself a bowl of cereal. "I'll be right back," he tells both of you, grabbing his jacket and wallet from the sideboard by the front door. "Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."

"Bye dad!" Missy calls out sarcastically. She finishes her cereal and comes out to the living room with you. Obviously worried from the way that she keeps looking over at you. Picking at the edge of the armchair she was sitting in; you can see that she's wanting to ask you what's wrong. "I'm okay sweetie. You can get ready for school. The bus should be here soon." You remind her, glancing at the clock on the DVR.

“You sure?” Missy has come around to you faster than she expected to, learning to like having you as part of her day and fully appreciating that home cooked meals are actually pretty good now. She’s been up front about the fact that she’s not ready to call you mom, and you’ve promised her she never has to if she’s not comfortable with it. She calls you by your name, and just the fact that you’re not trying to force yourself on her has made all the difference in the world. What happened was kinda screwed up, but it’s turning out okay.

"I'm sure." You assure her, giving her a small smile. Missy grins, reassured, and hops up. "Okay! I have to get ready for the audition today."

You sit up a little straighter and call up the stairs as she thunders up them. "I want to hear all about it when you get home!" You call out. "And we'll make cookies!"

******

When Marcus gets back from the store he has a little bag with him – your favorite M&Ms and a bottle of that raspberry tea you love sitting alongside the box of pregnancy tests. “Missy got to the bus stop on time?” He asks, having just missed her.

"Yes, she did." You smile, remembering her exuberant goodbye as she raced out the door. "She was excited for her audition, and I promised we would make cookies when she gets home." You know you are probably spoiling her by baking nearly every day after school, but she loves it and it’s good bonding time for the two of you. Plus, the Heroics love when Marcus brings in the leftovers every morning. You catch sight of the bag and look up at him nervously. "Marcus..."

“I know.” He bobs his head apologetically. He knows this is hard for you. You’ve talked it out before while you explained things that had caused you anxiety with your ex. Marcus had been determined never to touch a single one of those things, but he could feel it in his bones that he was right. “I...um...when I was at the store. I realized...you haven’t had your period since we got married. So even if this comes up negative and I give you apology foot rubs until the end of time, I think we should see a doctor anyway. In case something is wrong.” He pulls out the M&Ms and holds them out flat in his palms to you like a sacrifice. “Please don’t be mad at me. I just want to take care of you.”

You give him an amused smile, taking the M&Ms gratefully. "I know you do." You admit, knowing he is nothing like your ex. He had never made you think he was upset by you not being able to have kids, so you had realized your fear was purely out of instinct. "I'm not upset at you, I promise." You sigh and throw the blanket off your legs, getting up and cupping his cheek. "I just don't want you to be disappointed."

Marcus smiles, a little lopsided, and pulls you up into his arms. “How could I ever be disappointed when I have you for my wife?”

You laugh, comforted by the fact that your husband always seems to know what to say to put you at ease. "I guess it's a good thing that I have to pee." You joke, holding out your hand for the box. "Are you going to want to be in the bathroom while I do this?" You ask, tilting your head at him curiously.

“If that’s okay with you.” He presses a kiss to your cheek.

You nod. "Okay, sweetheart. How about we go upstairs to our bathroom, rather than crowding into the hall bath again."

“Anywhere you’re more comfortable.” With your hand in his, Marcus takes the stairs one by one right beside you. “Tea to make you pee?” He giggles at his own stupid rhyme, holding out the bottle of tea. God, he just wants you to be okay. No matter what the outcome was.

You giggle even as you roll your eyes, taking the bottle of tea. “You are such a dork.” You tease him, making him scrunch his nose up and lean in to kiss you when you reach the top of the stairs.

“But I’m your dork.” He argues, making you smile.

“Yes you are my dork.” You kiss him again and sigh. “Let’s get this over with. My bladder is starting to scream at me.”

You’re past the awkward stage of being in the bathroom together, and Marcus perches himself on the counter beside the sink while you take the test. “It’s just peace of mind,” he reminds you. “There’s a bug going around Missy’s school and that might be all it is. This is just checking one possible cause off the list.” He’s rambling and trying to be as kind as he can, not letting silence linger so you can’t sink into bad memories. He never wants any pressure between you, and he knows he signed up for no more kids. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be thrilled if it turned out to be true, but it means he’s not expecting it.

You know why he is talking so much, and you appreciate it. Although it’s not necessary. Once the test is sitting on the back of the toilet, you wash your hands and step over to your husband, wrapping your arms around his waist and sighing when you feel the warmth of his embrace. “I love you.” You whisper, conflicted about looking at the test. Part of you just wants to tell Marcus to look to satisfy his own questions, but you know that will hurt his feelings.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He murmurs back, gently peppering kisses in your hair and all over your face until you can't help but giggle. It's a long three minutes. By far the longest three minutes of your entire relationship, past or present. When the timer on your phone goes off, he squeezes you tightly in his arms. "Do you want to look or do you want me to do it?" He asks quietly.

You bite your lip and look up at him, falling more in love with him when you don’t see any judgment in his eyes. “You look.” You whisper, having seen enough negative tests to last a lifetime. “I know what it will say.”

"It's just peace of mind." He says again, but somewhere along the line he's gotten mixed up about whose mind needs the peace. Marcus slips off the counter, squeezing you again before he lets go and steps over to the toilet. He catches himself, not wanting you to hear him hold his breath. Willing himself to look normal and calm, Marcus leans over to look at the most important piece of plastic he's seen in years.

He's grateful that he's facing away from you because he knows how wide his eyes have blown. "Baby..." His voice waivers, carefully picking up the test and staring down at the little plus sign in the window. He's on the verge of exploding, trying not to get excited before he sees your reaction. He has no idea what you'll say when you see this.

You sigh, knowing that despite what he said, when you hear his voice catch, you know he had been hopeful. “I’m sorry Marcus, I really am.” You turn around and rub your hand up his quivering back. “It’s– I’m sorry.” You shouldn’t apologize but you do. “I’ll make a doctor’s appointment to find out what’s wrong.”

"Honey." Marcus inhales softly, turning around to face you and practically cradling the test in his hand. "You should look at this."

“I don’t—" You freeze when you see the face of the test, your heart stopping or skipping several beats as you stare at the  positive result. You make a noise that can’t even be described and rip your eyes away from the test to look up at Marcus. “Is that– Marcus, it that…positive?” You whisper, not daring to believe it. You’ve taken hundreds of tests and never even gotten a false positive.

"It is," he nods his head. He's trying so, so hard to keep a poker face until he can figure out how you feel about this but he's not sure how well he's doing. "It's positive, babe."

Your lower lip trembles and your eyes are already starting to fill with tears. “Positive means…I’m pregnant?” You whisper, staring back down at the test again, your lips starting to pull into a wide, ecstatic smile. “Marcus, I’m pregnant!”

The relief he feels at seeing you light up is palpable. He drops the test on the counter and scoops you up in his arms, feeling you grin against his neck as you hug the life out of each other. "You're pregnant," he whispers it against your lips, grinning along with you. "We're pregnant."

“Oh my God.” You sob out, the tears streaming down your face definitely ones of joy as you kiss your husband over and over again. “We’re, oh! I have to make an appointment. A blood test just to be certain, but I’ve never, ever had a positive test Marcus.”

"We'll call in a minute." His thumbs gently swipe away the tears running down your cheeks. Marcus is fairly certain he's never seen you this happy before, even in the video of your wedding. "We'll get the tests done and get you checked out, okay? Make sure everything is okay and get the coffee out of the kitchen so it won't make you sick again." He'd switch to tea and energy drinks in a heartbeat. This was the best reason in the world to have to change his routine.

You can’t help but beam up at him, excitement humming through your veins, and you feel like you could move mountains at this moment. “Later.” You tell him, pulling him to you for another kiss. “First I want you to take me to bed. Celebrate the little one the exact same way we created them.”

"My girl's always so eager." Marcus nips at your bottom lip, hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass tightly with both hands. "So gorgeous when you're excited, hermosa." His kisses trailed from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. One hand snakes around to rest over your belly. "Going to look even better growing my baby inside you."

You whimper at his words, never thinking that you would actually hear them in this context. It was so much sweeter that it had happened with Marcus. "I can't believe it." You admit, loving how his hardness is growing at your hip, twitching with growing need. "You like the idea of me fat and pregnant with your baby? Mood swings and sensitive tits?" You had thought your breasts being sensitive was just because of your oncoming period, the one that Marcus had noticed you missing. Being sick and the upheaval of combining your lives had just made you think that it was delayed. You had been late plenty of times with a negative test for you to trust your cycle.

“I’ll end up getting really protective,” he admits, stroking his thumb over the place your tiny baby has decided to settle in and grow. “I went a little crazy with the whole thing before Missy was born. But I’m your man for 3am snack runs, foot massages, a good solid fucking whenever and wherever you want, and keeping every doctor’s appointment scheduled so you don’t have to worry about it.” He already knows you will hate the doctor’s visits. All the poking and prodding will probably give you serious flashbacks, but he will be there to hold your hand every step of the way.

"I love you." You close your eyes and curl into his body, loving how much he is already putting you at ease. "I– Marcus I want you to take me to bed and give me that good solid fucking, and then I want to schedule our first appointment for our baby." You breathe out, your voice wavering slightly with the overwhelming emotions that are coursing through you. "And I can't wait to see protective daddy mode."

Marcus growls playfully, fusing his mouth to yours instantly. It is only a few steps to walk you backward from the en-suite into your bedroom, and he can make the walk from muscle memory alone. “Glad I called out of work,” he mumbles against your lips, already reaching for the hem of your t-shirt. “Gonna spend all day celebrating with you.”

You hum, smiling as he pulls back to lift your shirt over your head. "You seem to like that." You tease playfully, reaching down and cupping his hard length over his jeans. "Spending all day in bed with your wife."

He hisses at your touch, but can’t stop smiling. “Maybe I’m just really, really in love with you.” It’s no word of a lie. The last two months had proved to him that you were always meant to be a part of his life and he had grown exponentially more in love with you every single day. “And maybe I’m also turned on by how excited you are.”

"Mmmm." You love how open and honest he is with you. "I am excited and I want to show you just how excited I am." You normally let Marcus take control in the bedroom, reveling in his more dominant side, but right now you push him back from you slightly, smirking at his confusion as you look at him. "Strip." You order, biting your lip and looking at him in challenge.

His smile quickly morphed into a smirk. “Yes ma’am.” Never one to disobey a pregnant wife, Marcus pulls his t-shirt up over his head and tosses it aside, aiming for the laundry basket but failing miserably since he can’t take his eyes off of you. His favourite trick - undoing a zipper with his powers - comes in handy here and reveals that he hadn’t bothered to put underwear on this morning when he got out of the shower. Stiff and proud, his cock bobs when it’s free of his jeans and his smirk turns darker when he sees your eyes travel south and you bite your bottom lip. “See something you like?” He teases.

You inhale sharply, your own need making you reach for your clothes. "Fuck yes." You moan. "Get on the bed." You order him again, pulling your own shirt over your head and watching him lay down before you push the leggings and underwear you had been wearing down your legs and kick them off. He watches you as you kneel on the bed, making you smirk when he groans, your hands trailing lightly up his thighs. Bending down, your tongue runs up the length of him before coming back down, moving past his shaft and down to the hot and generously full balls beneath. Your lips press against them and you hear his moan when your tongue swipes at the soft skin. Paying special attention to the part of him that had given you such joy.

There is something about the gentleness of your caresses that lights a fire in Marcus as much as his normal rough and ready does. Making love is different than fucking with you - both are intense and highly pleasurable - but lovemaking always seems to press primal buttons in him that keep him close and doting on you for days. He knows that there will be more of this to come, but the sweet way you kiss his body is already making him squirm.

"Never thought I would get to have a baby." You admit, knowing he already knows this, but you feel like it needs to be said. Your lips press against his skin again and again in praise and worship, teasing and admiring. "But you, you gave me one." You realize now that it was your ex that was the issue. He had never shared the results of his tests, claiming they were normal, that you were the problem. Your nails scratch at the skin on his hips while you move up to let your tongue flutter around his frenulum. "Strong, virile and all mine." You whisper.

Marcus preens under your praise, feeling like there’s nothing at all special about him but if you say he’s special to you, then he believes it. Moans litter his responses to your touch, one hand slipping into your hair so he can make sure to see as much of his cock disappearing into your mouth as possible. “Anything for you,” he pants, humming in pleasure. “Try as much as you want or just love the hell out of this baby now.”

You moan around his cock, loving how he wants to give you options, leaving it up to you. "I'll be greedy later." You murmur, pulling off of him and kissing the tip of him, feeling his twitching where your hand is wrapped around the base. "Right now I just want to love the hell out of my baby daddy," you tease, winking up at him before you lick him again. He moans again and you release him, kissing up his stomach before you straddle him. Your dripping core pressing against his cock.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart.” He promises. He gently strokes your clit, loving the way you let him watch your slick cunt slide up and down his length before you sink down on him. His hips buck, already looking more than a little wrecked as his eyes plead with you to keep going.

Your eyes roll back, a soft moan filling the air at how full you feel. His cock fits perfectly inside you and while you know it's all in your mind, you feel more sensitive than you were last night when he had taken you. Your walls flutter around him while you grind down on him and circle your hips slowly, relishing the way that he grabs onto your hips to try to control himself.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he repeats, hissing when you grind down harder into his lap same he plants his feet flat on the bed to fuck up into you with more force. “Yours to use.” There’s a flash of dominance in the statement as he tells you what to do, but he is relinquishing control to you. Letting you set the pace and take what you need.

You moan, jostled on his cock and you love how he hits. Leaning down, you don’t miss how his eyes drift down to your tits, where they are brushing against his chest. “Marcus.” You whine, wanting his mouth on them. You push your chest towards his mouth.

He gladly latches on to one tit, tracing your piercing with his tongue and palming the other to give equal attention. He’s found out that the best way to make you squeal is to play with your tits with his powers, so the hard peak pressing against his palm receives a jolt of energy - just enough to be pleasurable before the threshold of pain. He explores with sucking kisses, already having memorized your body but always wanting to praise your peaks and valleys. He’s sure to leave live bites littered across your torso that the doctor will see but politely not comment on, and he loves it.

Your walls tighten around him, making your hips jerk when he tugs on the piercing with his teeth gently. "Oh fuck baby." you pant out, bouncing on him faster. Your walls slide up and down his shaft, your thighs burning from the fast pace that you start, needing him urgently and wanting to fall apart on him.

He knows that look on your face. He has dirty dreams about that face even though he sees it at least once a day. You’re so close that you would normally be begging if he were in charge. Begging for permission to soak his cock in your release, screaming his name as you came. Marcus loves that look.

He swaps his attention to your other breast and snakes his hand down between you to rub your clit, pushing you even further toward your peak. His spine is tingling deliciously and he knows he’s going to follow you right over the edge.

"Oh God, oh fuck, Marcus." You whimper, barreling closer to cumming, especially when he brings his hand down to rub your clit. The perfect pressure that you love against the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Oh fuck!" You cry out, your body jerking and you collapse on his chest, trying to grind your hips down to keep moving while you cum around him.

He fucks your through your orgasm, rhythmless thrusts jerking deep inside you until thick ropes of his cum paint your cunt and claim it as his. Marcus holds you tight to his chest as you both come down from your high, peppering kisses in your hair and finding your lips sweet, loving kisses. “I guess this is what happens when we never use protection,” he jokes, catching his breath while still inside you.

Your breath catches when you realize that. "Oh God." Your brow furrows and you pull back to look down at him seriously. "I– Marcus I didn't mean for this– how do you feel about this?" You ask. Logically, you know he is happy, he wouldn't have reacted the way that he did, but you had told him that you were safe. That you couldn't have children and now you are pregnant. That miniscule part of you feels like you tricked him into this and that is what is prompting this moment.

“Sweetheart...” he sees the worry in your eyes. The flash of guilt. “Baby, I’m thrilled .” He promises. “Please don’t think of this as some kind of accident.” His arms tighten around you, cradling your body against his. “This is a gift. You never thought you’d get to be a mother and now you can be. Honestly? I love being a dad. And Missy will be a fantastic big sister. Our family is growing and that’s a beautiful thing to be grateful for.”

You slump down against him, relieved by his reassurances. You press your lips to his and sigh, happy that you got to be with this man again. That you were able to even be where you are right now. "I love you, Mr. Moreno." You whisper, smiling against his lips and closing your eyes when his arms tighten around you. "So very much. I am so happy that we got married at our reunion. Best drunk decision I've ever made."

Marcus presses a playful, smacking kiss to your lips. “I wonder who won the bet?” He muses, waggling his eyebrows. “How many of our classmates do you think bet on you getting pregnant on our honeymoon?”

You snicker and bite your lip, contemplating. "Susan and Tim for sure." You guess, grinning down at him. "We will have to announce it on the app after we confirm it with the doctor and see who crows the loudest." You suggest, leaning down and kissing him again.

“We should call the doctor,” he mumbles, now kissing down your jaw and the line of your neck. He absolutely doesn't want to pull out of you even though he’s gone soft inside you, but neither of you has a cell phone nearby and it’s a very important appointment to make.

You murmur a soft protest but start to get off of him. "I guess it's for the best." You grumble before you flash him a grin. "I have to pee again."

“Get ready for a lot of that.” With one more kiss, Marcus lets you off of him and follows you into the bathroom to clean up. “You’re going to be a great mom,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand tight and pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re so good with Missy already. You’re going to be amazing.”

"I hope so." You tell him, nervous but eager to face the challenges that come with motherhood. You break away from him so you can go use the bathroom and clean up. Watching Marcus pick up the pregnancy test and pad out of the room while you finish up, you hear him on the phone, murmuring too low for you to hear and you smile to yourself, your hand drifting down to cover your stomach protectively.

Miracles do happen it seems.

You're married to the first man you've ever loved and are now carrying his baby. You smile, looking down at the test you couldn't resist taking while you were cleaning up. Another pink plus sign, making you truly grateful.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle    

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[whiskeynwriting]

Reader-Specific Writing: Miscarriage

Marcus Moreno x Female Reader

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Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) please read these warnings thoroughly, as there are many triggering aspects written here.

Mentions and descriptions of sexual intercourse, family dynamics, miscarriage, female anatomy, depression, blood, and the afterlife.

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Summary: You and Marcus have been trying for over a year for another baby, and when you finally receive the good news, you're overjoyed. But why is this pregnancy so different than the last?

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A/N: this piece was requested by @sweetangel0069 and is a very touching and intimate story. Thank you so much for allowing me to tell it Anna ♥️ we played around with which character we’d choose, and I think Marcus was an absolutely perfect fit 🥰

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This is everything you’ve wanted, everything you’ve been working toward for the past year. Your first didn’t take this long but, sometimes things work different. But you’re speaking out of turn, honestly, you haven’t even looked at the results. Still, you can’t help but think about them, a tiny, new baby in your arms. Holding your first… there wasn’t another feeling like it. The connection and happiness you felt was unimaginable, and to experience that again? You were elated at just the possibility of it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, finally lifting the test.

You’re not sure it’s right; they’re not always right… right? You feel foolish, but you take two more just to be sure. If this is really happening, you want to be able to tell him with certainty. And after checking three times, you finally let yourself revel in the joy. He’s going to be so happy, and so will Missy. She and Jaime got along so well; you can’t wait to see her reaction when you tell her she’ll be getting another little sibling.

Jaime’s so young he isn’t even in school yet, but he made your family feel complete. Missy never liked being the only child and Marcus told you from the start he always wanted to give her siblings. And after your baby boy was born, the two of you couldn’t help but want even more. There was space, after all, more than enough for everyone to be comfortable. Already, you’re thinking about how you’ll decorate this child’s nursery. Will you want to know their gender? Or have it be a surprise? You’re getting ahead of yourself – you’ll definitely want Marcus’ opinion.

“Really?!” he almost shouts, a smile immediately lighting up his face.

“I mean, I took three tests,” you giggle, leaning into his firm hug. “So, yeah I’m pretty sure.”

“Baby, that’s so great. Oh my gosh!” he holds you against him, sighing deeply as he lifts his one hand to hold the back of your head.

Inside, you feel like you could fly. You knew he’d be just as happy as you. You’d been trying for another one for so long, almost a year, it honestly felt like it would never happen.

“What’s going on?” Missy asks, walking downstairs with Jaime in her arms.

When Marcus had gotten off work, he stopped by his mother’s to pick up Jaime, and then the school to get Missy. Like the great big sister she’s grown to be, she had taken it upon herself to bring Jaime upstairs to change him.

“You wanna tell her, honey?” Marcus asks, pulling away from you.

He holds your face with both of his hands, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. You smile, nodding eagerly before turning to your stepdaughter.

“I’m pregnant again!”

“Wait, really?!” she nearly squeals, jumping a bit in shock.

“Yes,” you chuckle, feeling Marcus pull you into a sideways hug.

“Is it a boy again?!” she asks with a smile lighting up her beautiful face.

“We’re not sure yet, it’s too early to tell.”

But you’re already thinking of names, ones you and Marcus have discussed before. He loves the name Sofia for a girl, and you do too, that and Laia. During your last pregnancy, you brought up the name Mateo, which he absolutely fell in love with. Jaime, however, won that time. Maybe Mateo will win this time. That is, if it’s a boy.

At dinner, the three of you are already discussing how you’ll announce it to your family and friends. You both made Missy swear to secrecy until then, and she promised not to tell a soul. Honestly, she was just so happy to be in on the surprise. You didn’t do a huge party for Jaime’s gender reveal, just did a cake-cutting with your close family and friends. Maybe you’ll do something similar this time, too.

“Marcus?” you call from the bathroom, lotioning your legs after a shower.

“Yeah, honey?” he responds, appearing in the doorway.

“Do you still like the name Mateo?”

He leans against the doorframe, humming lowly yet happily. Crossing his arms, he smiles, nodding at you.

“I think that might be my favorite.” He tells you calmly, eyes running up the lengths of your legs. “Aside from Jaime, of course.”

“Of course,” you grin, his eyes rising to meet your gaze.

“What about for a girl?”

He sighs again, eyes lifting a bit as he thinks. “Do you still like Sofia?”

You grin, cheeks feeling warm under his gaze. “I love that name.”

It’s only been a few days, but this new baby has occupied up every thought in your mind. It’s taken everything you have to not tell your closest coworkers about the news, and lately, it’s all you and Marcus talk about. This is such an absolute blessing for the two of you, for your entire family. You’re not sure how many kids you and Marcus want, but you know this won’t be your last baby.

After speaking for a few more minutes, he walks back into your shared master bedroom, climbing into bed. You say you’ll be right behind him, only needing to finish up with your lotion and use the toilet. But when you sit down, you realize you’ll be a little longer than expected.

It’s not much, only a small amount, but still… why is it there? Your body feels like a shock had just run through it, staring down at the small patch of blood in your underwear. This has never happened to you before but, there has to be a reason for this. A reasonable reason for this. Implantation bleeding, you then think, feeling a small ounce of relief. Sometimes you can have implantation bleeding. That must be it. It’s fine.

“You okay, baby?” Marcus calls gently, not wanting to wake Jaime or Missy.

“Yeah,” you shout shakily in response, and it concerns him. But you’re in the bathroom so he decides to just give you your space. When you come out though, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” you shake your head, settling next to him in bed. “I’m alright.”

“You sounded off, honey.” He tells you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulls you in close, giving your temple a kiss.

He feels so amazing inside and has ever since you told him. To have you make him a father again would make him the happiest man in the world. Since meeting you, it’s like nothing else has mattered; nothing else but you and his little girl, and then his little boy. You’ve given him love, happiness, a feeling of belonging and pure, fatherly joy. You’ve given him his life back.

“I’m okay, baby.” You nod, glancing up at him. Those lovingly deep eyes make you feel all warm inside, your hand lifting to trace your fingertips along his scruff. Before you continue on, you lean in, giving him a soft kiss. “I’m fine.”  

You’ve been pregnant before, and everything went fine – great, actually. There’s no reason to suspect something might be wrong. Implantation bleeding happens, it doesn’t mean anything bad is happening. Nothing else feels off, so… why worry? Your body has done this before, and you’re more than confident that it can do it again. You’re healthy, what’s the worst that could happen?

More bleeding, that’s something worse than can happen. It’s so much that it wakes you up, the wetness of it ongoing and drowning your pants and bedsheets in red.

“W – what…”

At first, you’re not sure what it is. Surely, you didn’t pee the bed. You’re a grown woman, why would that happen? Although, you wish it was the case instead of this. Lowering your hand, you stuff it between yourself and the bed, lifting it back up to confirm your suspicions. Your eyes go wide, heartrate skyrocketing in your chest. What the fuck? What the fuck?!

Quickly, you turn to your side, looking for Marcus. Thankfully, he’d rolled over and away from you in the night, no longer wrapped around you. As quietly as you can, you slip out from the bed, hurrying into the ensuite. You make sure to turn the light on only after you’ve closed the door, not wanting to wake him.

There’s… so much of it; and it just keeps picking up. You’ve never even had a period like this before. It’s shocking, almost like a steady stream of liquid red coming out… and it’s bright red with… clots? Yes… lots of them. What is happening? Why is this happening?

Your mind is reeling, and you can’t help but think the worst. But this can’t be what’s going on. Maybe something is just wrong with the baby but surely, they’re still… there. Your heart starts sinking – you’ve never felt so hopeless before, but you need to stop it, you need to be realistic about this and stay strong. You don’t know anything for a fact, other than this is your baby, your and Marcus’ baby.

Before he’d gone to bed, he worried about you. Internally, he felt strangely about this; something just wasn’t right. Your gentle jostle did in fact wake him up from sleep, but only because he’d been sleeping so lightly. He’d only relaxed enough to fall into a dream before he was awake again, but he could tell by the way you got up that you didn’t want to disturb him, so he let you believe that you didn’t. And he planned on staying here until you came back into bed, until the two of you fell asleep again and greeted the morning anew. But that was before he heard your quiet crying.

“Querida?” he murmurs, tapping his knuckles gently on the door. “Estas bien?” (My dear, are you okay?)

Your head snaps up as you sniffle, a sharp pang jolting throughout your body. Shit. Quickly, you wipe your nose with a piece of toilet paper, using another piece to dry your eyes.

“I – I’m fine,” you gently call back, but you can’t help the shaky exhale your body forces out from your cries. And Marcus hears it.

“Can I come in?” he then asks softly, unsure of what is happening.

You ponder this for a moment. What are you going to do? When you look down, you’re still bleeding profusely. It won’t stop.

“Mi amor?” Marcus opens the door just a crack. “What’s going on?” (My love?)

All at once, you let out the incredible cry you’d been holding inside. You sob completely, almost immediately met with a concerned Marcus kneeling by your side.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he seems frantic, eyes scanning your figure. He hates seeing you cry, especially so intensely. What could be bothering you so much? But then, his eyes dip lower, seeing the red-tinted skin on the insides of your thighs. When he sees this, he whispers your name, completely taken aback.

“I don’t know what’s going on!” you cry to him, sniffling thickly while trying to steady your breaths to keep quiet. You don’t want to wake your children.

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!”

“Okay, okay,” he coos to you, reaching up to run his hands over your outer arms. Knowing how out of sorts you are, it’s up to him to make the call. “Let’s go, cariño.” He says, rubbing your knee. (baby)

“What? Where?” you look into his eyes, warm and still while yours are puffy and swirling with worry.

“We should go to the hospital, honey.” His voice is calm, steady. “We don’t know what’s wrong, and… the baby.”

He hates to say it, but you’re both thinking it. Of course you’re worried about the baby right now, why wouldn’t you be?

“But wh – who’ll watch the kids?” you ask him, breaths shaky as you hiccup quietly.

“Shh…” Marcus sits up on his knees, pulling you in for a soft hug, regardless of the fact that you’re still sitting on the toilet. Truly, his love knows no bounds. “I’ll call my mother. We need to figure this out.”

He’s right, and you know he is, but you hate that you have to bother his mother. It’s the middle of the night, you’d surely be waking her up. But Marcus insists upon it, saying that your health is more important than his mother losing a few hours of sleep. Besides, when Marcus calls her, she’s more than happy to come over. She doesn’t know about the baby though, and while you both hate it, you have to lie to her. He makes up the excuse of the stomach flu when she arrives at the house, looking at you with worry.

“Mi amor, eso no es bueno.” She shakes her head, approaching you and placing her hands on your outer arms. She squeezes lovingly, and you give her an appreciative smile. “Te hare sopa – la cura para todo!” (My love, that is no good. I will make you soup – the cure for it all!)

“Gracias, Mamá Moreno.” You return, trying to look anywhere but her. You could be carrying her grandchild, and you’re lying to her. Though, that’s really the least of your worries. (Thank you, Mama Moreno)

But while you’re more than courteous toward Marcus’ mom, he’s eager to get you into the car. Quickly yet politely, he ends your conversation, thanking his mother before re-directing you to the garage’s interior door. As usual, he opens your car door for you, this time leaning down before closing it.

“Are you alright? Can I do anything?” he asks you, reaching for you hand.

You watch with teary eyes as he lifts it to his lips, giving you a soft kiss while keeping your worry-filled gaze.

“You’re already doing more than enough, my love.” you return, smiling at his affection. Strangely, it plants a small seed of hope inside you. Surely the love the two of you have for each other and this baby will help the fetus’ health shine through. It’s a long shot but, it gives you hope.

“This is ridiculous.” He fumes, and you’ve never seen him so mad.

Marcus paces back and forth across the waiting room floor, crossing and un-crossing his arms while the two of you wait.

“You need to be seen now; this is an emergency!”

“I know, baby.”

The tone of your voice makes him spin around, reminding him that you’re suffering behind him all alone. Immediately, he comes to your side. He sits beside you, bundling you up in a warm hug between his strong arms.

“I’m sorry, baby, I… I didn’t mean to ignore you. I, I –”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, leaning into him. “I just need you right now.”

“I know,” he instantly returns, one hand rising to pet the back of your head. “I know, and I’m here, hermosa.” (beautiful)

Even though you’re in his arms, you feel shaky and unsure. You don’t know what this is, you’re uncertain of your baby’s future. And more than anything, Marcus is spiraling because this isn’t something he can control. He can’t make this better for you. He can be here beside you, hold you and talk to you, love on you until the sun stops setting, but to him, it won’t be enough. He can’t fix what’s happening this time.

“Moreno?”

“Yes.” Marcus’ head shoots up, looking to the nurse, and then back to you. “Come on, hermosa, let’s go.” He kisses the side of your forehead, seeing the still-somber look on your face.

He helps you to stand even though he doesn’t necessarily need to. Both of you follow the nurse back past the double doors, down a hallway, and into a sterilized patient room. And after explaining the situation to her, she comes up with a game plan.

“Okay honey,” she says, handing the test over to you. “First thing’s first. Let’s take a test.”

Immediately, Marcus worries that it will be negative. He hates himself for thinking that right off the bat, but he almost can’t help it. But he doesn’t voice it, of course. On the other hand, you’ve completely zoned out. At this point, you’re just on autopilot. You grab the test, follow the directions to the bathroom, pee on the stick, and give it back. You don’t look, you’re too scared to; you’ve never been so scared to look.

“Okay you two,” your nurse returns, sighing as she glances at her clipboard. “It’s positive.”

“What?” you sit up in bed, palms flat on the sheets. “Really?!”

“Yep.” She nods with a smile. “Next up on the list, I’m ordering you some bloodwork. We want to cover all of our bases. After that, I’ll be requesting both a vaginal and abdominal ultrasound.”

“Okay,” Marcus breathes out, nodding to her. He’s been sitting in a chair beside your bed, letting you rest and occasionally sleep.

She looks to both of you, offering a kind smile. “Sit tight. I’ll be back soon.”

“Sit tight.” Marcus mumbles, rubbing his face. “You’re sitting here bleeding and we’re supposed to sit tight.”

“Baby,” you return, yawning. “She’s doing her best.”

But he doesn’t respond, he just shifts, standing and then sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Do you want me to turn off the lights? So you can get some sleep?”

“Marcus,” you say, your voice cracking. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know what I did to this baby.”

“Hey, you didn’t do anything.”

He leans forward, holding your face in his hands. Both thumbs swipe slowly, catching the new stream of tears flowing down your cheeks.

Again, his heartrate increases, he begins to sweat slightly, and his throat becomes dry. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. All he can tell you is that he loves you, he loves you and your little family more than anything in the entire world. And maybe, that’ll be enough for you. Maybe his love will be enough.

You’ve never been a fan of needles, but with Marcus by your side, it’s bearable. She takes about four tubes, but the juice and cookie help afterwards. It does nothing to calm your nerves, though, and as luck would have it, your results come back normal. For some reason, that only makes your anxiety worse.

“I don’t get it,” you murmur, shaking your head. “Then what’s wrong?”

“We’re not sure yet, hun.” She tells you, rubbing your back.

Marcus had gone down to the cafeteria to grab the both of you some breakfast. You’d arrived at the emergency room at around two in the morning. By now, it’s just after five. And while he’s gone getting your food, your nurse stays by your side.

“The last thing we’ve got are your ultrasounds. With how your test results have been going, we’re bound to see your little baby in there.”

You just feel unsure. Unsure and exhausted. You’re not sure what to do, where to go, what to say, and Marcus is no different. But he’s trying, he’s doing everything he can. He won’t let you go through this alone.

“Okay,” he sighs, walking through the door.

Both of you look up, your tired eyes meeting his own. He looks completely drained, but persistent. He pushes on, pulling out a tray to set your food on.

“They didn’t have pancakes, but they did have waffles. I know it’s not your first choice, but I brought syrup to make it better. Some milk, some apple juice for something sweet.” He grins, that cute dimple showing as he hands the juice to you. “I also brought you some Jell-O, baby. Snagged the last one for you. There’s a biscuit and eggs there, too.”

“Marcus,” you say with a giggly smile. Reaching out to him, he follows your gestured call, leaning into the hold your hands place on his face. “Thank you, baby.”

He smiles into your kiss, humming softly. “Anything for you, mi amor.” (my love)

“Moreno?” a doctor asks on the other side of the curtain, walking past when Marcus responds with a groggy yes.

“Hi there,” the doctor nods, offering a brief grin. “We have your ultrasounds ready for you.”

You take a breath, nodding slowly. Honestly, this is it. For as far along as you are, there should at least be a heartbeat. There has to be a heartbeat.

But the first ultrasound shows you nothing. Not a sign of life in sight.

The second ultrasound, the one of your womb, is empty. There’s nothing.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Your nurse coos to you, placing a hand on your shoulder once the doctor walks away.

“What… what does this mean?” you ask shakily, turning to look up at her.

Marcus is holding back tears, his hands clasped together and held in front of his face.

“Either you’re still too early in your pregnancy to see the fetus, or you had a miscarriage.” She tells you, kindly yet honestly. And you appreciate her honesty. “In my opinion, it is likely a miscarriage.”

Something snaps inside you; an incredible weight falls over your body. Your body, your body. Your body has carried a baby before; you had to have done something this time for this to happen. You think, this has to be your fault, it just doesn’t make sense any other way. Why would this happen if your body was healthy and equipped for carrying and growing a new baby? You already know you let Marcus down, and you let this baby down, too. It’s mother, someone a child is supposed to trust. What did I do?

Marcus sits off to the side in his chair, concern and anguish written all over his face. The thought that everything was going to be fine is no longer in your head, and you can’t bring it back. Because everything, very clearly, is not fine.

He’s mad, infuriated, angry at the world but not at you, never at you. Waves of sadness and anger wash over him repeatedly, confusion also playing a part. Why is this happening to you? he genuinely doesn’t understand what went wrong or if anything necessary ‘went wrong’, or what. This didn’t happen with Missy when his previous wife carried her, and it didn’t happen during your pregnancy with Jaime, so why is it happening now?

And he’s scared, too. He’s so scared and he doesn’t know what to do. But he has to be there for you. He doesn’t know what to do but one thing is for certain, and it’s that he needs to be there for you. It’s difficult, communicating his emotions, because he doesn’t want to upset you any more than you already are. But maybe he doesn’t have to. He shifts, standing up and snuggling next to you on your bed. He holds you, feeling you turn in his arms and snuggle into his chest.

“I love you, querida.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. “I will always love you.”

“This is my fault, Marcus. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how I could let this happen.”

“Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. I promise you; how could you have known this was going to happen?”

Marcus continues speaking to you, bringing a certain kind of reassurance that is realistic, too. He can’t tell you enough how much he loves you, how strong and capable you are. And you don’t believe him right now, not at all. But you appreciate it, appreciate him. You always will.

Shortly after your two ultrasounds, you’re discharged, the two of you walking out with puffy eyes and tired hearts. You’re not expecting the message you receive though. Before you leave, the nurse discharging you hands you a pamphlet. She’s a different one than the woman that had been by your side through the night.

“Congratulations,” she says with a bright grin, handing you the rectangular booklet. “It looks like you’ll be having an October baby.”

“I, um…”

Of course, this confuses you greatly, but at the same time it gives you a renewed sense of hope. Maybe this will work out after all. Maybe you are just too early in your pregnancy. So, with a light breath, you take the paper like a promise, and return home.

You’ve been living with uncertainty for another week. You’ve bled every day, and Marcus knows about it, too. When there’s that much blood, it’s hard to hide it, especially from him. He sees the change in your mood, and it seems that no matter what he does, he can’t change it. He worries about what’s going on in your head. Every morning, he watches you take your prenatal vitamin. You haven’t heard any other news from any doctors, but you think that as long as you keep taking them, it will be okay. As long as you avoid the foods you aren’t supposed to eat, avoid the drinks you’re not supposed to have, it’ll help. And while you were trying to put on a brave face, it was hard to even convince yourself that you were still carrying. You honestly feel like you’re falling apart on the inside. You should be able to control your body, and right now… you can’t.

But no matter how hard it is to actually keep going, you have to, because you still have your kids. Missy and Jaime need you. Today, they both have doctor’s appointments, and while the simple idea of even entering a doctor’s office is starting to disturb you, you take them anyway. Marcus is at work and so is his mother, you’re the only one that can today.

Your children bring you joy that is honestly incomparable to anything in this world. Even something as simple as singing with them in the car, it makes life worth living. Even if this pregnancy doesn’t come to fruition, it will be alright. It’s hard for you to accept it, but it will. You still have your family; it will be alright.

“Come on, honey.” You say with a grunt, hauling Jaime out of his care seat.

Naturally, Missy reaches out to carry him. She’s truly grown so much, even in her early teenage years. It makes you beam brightly, seeing the love she has for her little brother.

“Oh,” comes your sudden gasp, now leaning against the car.

Missy turns around with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?” She doesn’t know about your possible miscarriage, either.

“I’m okay, baby.” You reply, sighing roughly. “Do you think, would you be able to take your brother with you upstairs? I’ll be right behind you, just gonna hit the bathroom.”

“Okay,” she nods, confident in her abilities. She’s become so independent.

Once she’s out of sight, you hurry to the bathroom. It feels like something literally fell out of your vagina and plopped into your underwear. And you’ve definitely never had that happen before. When you get to the bathroom, you find an empty stall and pull your pants down to find out what the hell just happened.

A sharp rush of adrenaline rushes through your veins, your eyes widening slightly while your eyebrows fold. A blood clot the side of your palm is sitting mostly in your underwear, and gently, you pull it the rest of the way out. You stare at it in shock, thinking what the hell is this? You’ve dealt with blood clots before occasionally, but never one of this size. But other than this strange thing, you feel fine. So, you flush the clot, clean yourself up, and flush the toilet. When you’re done, you find the kids doctor’s office, and make your way up.

Thankfully, the rest of the day goes off without a hitch. You feel fine, happy even. You don’t have to change your underwear for the rest of the day once you get home and get a new pair, your stomach doesn’t feel off and for once, your emotions seem to be evening out.

“Querida?” Marcus sings, finally getting home. (Dear?)

You and the kids have been home for a few hours by now, Marcus arriving around five o’clock. He scans the entryway, walking forward through the short hall and into the kitchen. And once he finds you, he smiles.

“Hi baby,” you coo gracefully in return, heart beating affectionately in your chest.

He comes to you, giving you a firm hug. His fingers rub over you, humming quietly, briefly, when he feels your own arms wrap around him, too.

“How are you?” he asks, that rich, deep baritone making you swoon.

Marcus continues to hold the sides of your arms, looking to you with so much love.

“I feel good,” you nod, shrugging. “Better.”

“I’m so happy to hear that, hermosa.” Quickly, he exhales a breath, truly feeling relieved. He can’t stand to see you in such pain. “Have you thought about dinner?”

He goes on to tell you that he’s thought about it since lunch, his stomach grumbling nonstop. It makes you giggle, seeing him be so boyish. Sometimes, he acts just like a kid, and when he’s actually around the kids, that goes tenfold. He’s so sweet with them, so cuddly and attentive and kind. After deciding on your afternoon meal, he rounds the two of them up, coming back down the stairs with baby Jaime in his arms.

Missy helps you cook while Marcus and Jaime play. There’s not much you can do with a baby his age, but Marcus makes the most of it. He lays down on the living room rug with him, holding up animal toys and making each one’s noise. It makes his son giggle and laugh, and it makes Marcus laugh, too.

Dinner is quick, simple. Missy has homework to do and thankfully, Jaime goes to bed easily. A full belly really does him in. Marcus claims food has the same effect on him, too.

“Go on,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I’ll clean up.”

Sure, Marcus had his flaws – everyone does. But he didn’t show them often, and especially not now. He always reacted appropriately to the situation at hand, and you are no exception. After this entire ordeal, you weren’t sure what you needed. But somehow, he gave it to you.

A shower sounds nice, but the simple act of getting undressed makes you spiral all over again. You look down, expecting blood, but don’t see any. And while this should be a good thing, the only thing you’re thinking about now is that blood clot you had at the doctor’s office. It, that must have… that must have been the fetus. You must have finally miscarried.

Upon your new realization, your stomach drops. Has this really happened?

Once again, you move through the motions, almost as if on autopilot. You manage to shower, drying off and then dressing yourself in some cozy pajamas. Nearly emotionless, you walk out of the bathroom, eyes immediately meeting Marcus’ as he rests on the bed. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, reading in the dim light coming from the top of his nightstand. When he heard you open the door, he naturally looked up.

His eyes call out to something somber in your soul. The way he looks at you makes everything come out, tears swelling in your eyes as your lower lip begins to pout. You can’t help the overwhelming emotions that wash through you, practically crumbling on the bed.

“W – what, what happened?” Marcus stutters out, tossing his book down and leaning closer to wrap you in his arms. “Honey, what happened?”

“It happened, Marcus,” you sub, inhaling a sharp breath. “It really happened this time.”

“What did?” he asks, looking down at you.

“There was, I had this thing, this… blood clot. I h – haven’t bled since.”

You’re shaking beneath him from crying so hard, and he’s doing his best to keep you steady. But when you tell him this, his stomach drops too.

“It was the baby, Marcus.”

“Baby…”

It’s all that comes out of his mouth, he doesn’t want you to hear him weeping too. But as soon as he understands, hot, heavy tears fall from his eyes. He’s disappointed, of course, you both were so excited to welcome this new baby into the world, into your family.

Officially, this is the end of your journey, at least for this pregnancy. You feel like you failed; it’s over, you can’t come back from this, can’t reverse it or make it better. You let your whole family down. What are you going to tell Missy? What will she think?

You just don’t understand, you don’t get it at all. You and Marcus just made a beautiful baby boy together, why couldn’t you have this baby too?

“This may not be the right thing to say,” Marcus begins hesitantly, swallowing before he continues. “But… it will be okay. I’m here, I promise I’m here. I know you, baby, you’re so strong. We’ll figure this out, we’ll figure out how to move past this, together.”

It’s easy for you to fall asleep, your body drained after your explosion of emotions. It happens before you realize it, drifting off in Marcus’ arms all too easily. But what comes next isn’t easy, at least, not at first.

You can see her, your baby, the one you no longer have. Marcus is holding her, smiling down at the small bundle in his arms. The pink blanket she’s wrapped in reveals to you her gender, and Marcus looks like he couldn’t be happier. Then, your attention shifts as he looks to his left, and you suddenly see yourself in a hospital bed.

“Cómo deberíamos llamarla?” he asks you, speaking softly above his daughter. (What should we name her?)

“Sofia.” You answer, smiling softly, as if you had agreed on the name many months ago. “Sofia Marie.”

Your baby, your daughter, she seems… happy. There’s a feeling in the air that takes away every solemn sensation, replacing it with grace and acceptance. She’s healthy, too. The space here feels warm and kind, and she’s with her mother and father, at least, the souls of them. You and Marcus will always be connected to her.

She’s okay here. She’s safe on the other side.

[nolanell]

NOLANell's Fanfiction and Fanart Recommendations

Please heed individual warnings and ratings before reading or viewing!

These are some fanfictions and fanart I have found on here that I really love and want to share with my followers and anyone else who finds my blog. This is a WIP so I will add to this as I discover more things!

Enjoy!

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics

Din Djarin

Everything and More by @dincrypt - SugarDaddy!Din x Female Reader AU Series

For the Night by @dincrypt - Din Djarin x Female Reader One Shot

Siren by @ezrasbirdie - Din Djarin x GN Reader One Shot

Tied by @radiowallet - Dr. Din Djarin x Female Reader (First Assist) AU Series

Come Back To Me by @magpie-to-the-morning - Highwayman!Din x Female Reader AU Series

Glimpsed by @blueeyesatnight - Grogu POV, thinking about Din Djarin. Part of a series, linked in the piece.

Marcus Moreno

Caramel Latte by @moralesispunk - Marcus Moreno x Female Reader Series

Poorly Wired Circuit by @radiowallet - Marcus Moreno x OFC Sarah Bailey Series

Wish You Were Here by @wardenparker and @absurdthirst - Marcus Moreno x Female Reader Soulmate AU Series (NB: link is to Chapter 1)

Yes, Mr. Moreno by @toomanystoriessolittletime - Marcus Moreno x OFC Alice Baker Writer Wednesday Submission

Marcus Pike

Read You Like A Book by @the-ginger-hedge-witch - Marcus Pike x OFC Anne Series

The Farmer's Market by @ezrasbirdie - Marcus Pike x OFC Annie Christiansen Series

The Long Con by @youvebeenlivingfictional - Marcus Pike x Female Reader Series (Complete)

Marcus & Peanut by @pintsizemama - Marcus Pike x Female Reader Series

Pero Tovar

Driving Mr Tovar by @sirowsky - Modern!Pero Tovar x Female Reader AU Series (Complete)

In His Eyes by @moralesispunk - Blacksmith!Pero Tovar x Female Reader AU Series (Complete)

The Innkeeper's Daughter by @just-here-for-the-moment - Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Stranded Due to Weather in a Coffee Shop AU Ask - Pero Tovar x GN Reader (Part of 400 Followers Celebration)

Javier Peña

Oops by @pintsizemama - Javier Peña x Female Reader Series

Lay It On Me by @queenofthefaceless Javier Peña x Female Reader Series (Complete)

What's The Use Of Wonderin' by @youvebeenlivingfictional - Javier Peña x Female Reader Series (Complete)

Sick Day by @quica-quica-quica - Javier Peña x Female Reader (Prompt List Ask)

At First Sight by @queridopascal - Javier Peña x Female Reader (Writer Wednesday Submission)

To Perish Twice by @brandyllyn - Javier Peña x Female Reader Soulmate AU Series (Complete)

Frankie Morales

ForestRanger!Frankie AU by @the-ginger-hedge-witch - ForestRanger!Frankie x Female Reader AU Series

Fly Me To The Moon by @pilothusband - Frankie Morales x Female Reader One Shot

All Hail The King by @pilothusband - Frankie Morales x Female Reader One Shot

Wednesday by @asta-lily - Frankie Morales x Female Reader (Complete)

Of Cupckes and Cupid by @asta-lily - Frankie Morales x GN Reader One Shot

Frankie Dating a Plus Size Partner Headcannons by @softpedropascal (Ask Request)

Fixing It by @green-socks - Frankie Morales x GN!Reader One Shot

'Here, Take My Jacket' by @mando-forgive-me - Frankie Morales x GN!Reader (Request for Flufftober 2021)

Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Conference Call Incident by @just-here-for-the-moment and @driedgreentomatoes (part of the Declassified HR Files Series)

'Is That My Shirt?' by @quica-quica-quica Agent Whiskey x Female Reader (Prompt List Ask)

Extra Pickles, Hold the Mayo by @absurdthirst Agent Whiskey x Female Reader (Writer Wednesday Submission)

Maxwell Lord

Rings by @honestly-shite - Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader One Shot

When The Cards All Fold by @yespolkadotkitty - Maxwell Lord x Female!Reader One Shot

Non Pedro Pascal Characters

Plethora by @fisforfulcrum (Poe Dameron [Star Wars] x GN!Reader One Shot for Writer Wednesday)

Poe Playing Guitar to BB8 by @clakearts (Poe Dameron [Star Wars] Art)

Stay by @the-little-ewok (Poe Dameron [Star Wars] x F!Reader One Shot)

Frogs by @gaitwae (Loki [MCU] x Reader Ask One Shot)

Loki Comforts a Friend by @theaudacitytowrite (Loki [MCU] x Reader Ask Drabble)

The Night Before Your Thesis Defence by @handmaiden-of-mischief (Loki [MCU] x Reader One Shot)

Loki Portrait by @themorningstar81 (Loki [MCU] Art)

How High by @brandyllyn (Santiago 'Pope' Garcia [Triple Frontier] x GN!Reader - part of a series)

The Godfather by @quica-quica-quica (Ben Miller [Triple Frontier] x Female Reader One Shot)

[themand0lorian]

HeLLLOOOOooooo Marcus Moreno needs some love. I see a lot of whump for Marcus being hurt but what about the team getting captured but no powers!heroic!reader gets badly hurt and gets thrown in the room with the rest of them while unconscious and Marcus shifts all his focus to her? Protective angst to fluff?

alright anon, I watched this god awful movie for this so I hope you enjoy!!

Best Laid Plans

Summary: Even the best laid plans can come tumbling down.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, superhero violence)

Words: ~7500 (Read on AO3)

Tags: hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader injury (nondescript), superheroes and supervillains that are cheesy because I am bad at making them up, happy ending

Notes: This is younger Marcus! I picture reader is eventually Missy’s mom, but do with that what you will. I just wanted some unsure/pining Marcus and to explore where his leadership style came from, since it seems like he’s not really a natural leader like Missy is. I also changed his powers a bit since it’s not clear exactly what they are. 

Sometimes, Marcus wished he had the power of invisibility. Sure, metal bending was cool—a party trick at bars in college, a fun prank to play on his mom when he was young—but more than anything, he just wanted to disappear. Like his powers, the new generation of heroics coming up was enjoyable—until it wasn’t. Gone were silly games, childhood naivety and harmless fun. Now, he had the world to save—him and the other Heroics—and this pressure wasn’t something he was able to bend to his will. 

While his associates leaned into the role, snapping pictures, shaking hands, kissing babies, Marcus preferred to blend to the background. He was trained, sure—Anita made sure of that—but he would let Lava Girl melt the villain of the day, let Vox shatter their eardrums until they bled, let Miracle Guy sign autographs for his adoring (pretty, female) fans, choosing instead to wish, like metal, he could melt away to liquid.

The new round of heroics also meant a new leader would need to step up; Marcus felt Miracle Guy had the role in the bag. All bravado, super strength, flight—a picture perfect Heroic—to lead the team to countless victories, and he could lead the life he wanted. Settle down, away from the spotlight. Maybe have a few flings, get a dog—a big scruffy thing, he thinks—go on a vacation. Finally relax, maybe pull out his metal bending while drunk on a dare but otherwise tuck his powers away for good.

He had started his plan in motion recently, finally moving out of his mom’s and into his own place. He knew she meant well, but her overbearing smothering, combined with the fact that she would throw training at him at all hours of the day, meant he was ready to branch on his own. Find who he is without the Heroics, without the powers. Not Marcus Moreno, Heroic; Marcus Moreno, Some Guy.

He’s walking through the park to get to get to his car when he sees you the first time. Sure, he could catch a ride with one of the helicopter backpacks, or meld a bus to his will, but normalcy starts here; and he’s glad it does, because it brings him to you. You’re crying, but trying to hide it—sniffing angry tears as you tap aggressively on your phone before throwing it into your bag.

“Excuse me, miss? Do you need help?” Marcus can’t help it—it’s practically in his blood to help innocent civilians, and sure, Magnetron is picking you up in his giant magnetic grip and dangling you off a building, but seeing a pretty girl cry on a park bench incites the same feeling in him. You look up at him, wide-eyed, and for a second, Marcus is disappointed. He knows that look; the look of someone who thinks they know him; Marcus Moreno, Heroic, and will want an autograph or a selfie or—

“No, thank you,” you sniffle, gathering your things. He notices you have several bags with you, too many for one person, but when he reaches to help, you shrink away. “I—I need to be getting to work. First and last day,” you whisper sardonically.

“What do you mean?” He can’t help it. Something in you draws him to you, makes him want to know more. Subconsciously, he’s giving his best puppy dog eyes, and you relent.

“I—I’m a PA. And I lost my boss’ BlackBerry, and now I don’t know when any of his meetings are, and like—that’s my whole job, planning, so now the whole world is going to end, and he’s gonna fire me,” you sigh, choking back more tears as you walk away from him; he fights the chuckle bubbling at your theatrics. “I—I need to go face the music.”

“I—I could help you look?” Marcus offers, and you stop in your tracks, turning to him. “It can’t have gone far. Let’s look around,” he says, turning to look along the path in the grass. You cock your brow, but turn your back to him, looking through shrubs as well.

“I—I already looked everywhere, I couldn’t find—" You’re stopped by a tap to the shoulder, turning to find Marcus holding up the missing BlackBerry with a grin. “How—how did you find it!” you yell in disbelief, grabbing it and hugging him with whispered thanks in the process. It’s so powerful he almost falls backwards, but he catches himself with a step back, and you pull away sheepishly.

“Gosh, I’m such an idiot—hugging a stranger and I don’t even know his name,” you chuckle, giving him yours. Marcus contemplates for a minute—part of him wants to tell you. Wants to tell you that he summoned all loose metal items in a one block radius the second you turned your back, quickly picking the phone out of the array of loose change and lost keys before sending it all back to its resting place. But part of him wants to stay like this, just a guy helping a pretty girl. Unable to choose, he gives you his name, letting you make the choice based on your reaction.

“Marcus Moreno. Guess the world is saved,” he chuckles.

“Marcus Moreno. My hero,” you croon with a smile, clutching the phone to your heart, and for the first time, Marcus thinks he likes the ring of that.

Marcus curses himself the entire car ride, the tram ride into headquarters, the elevator ride to the meeting room, and as he sits in his assigned seat around the conference table—he forgot to ask for your phone number, struck dumb by your smile and wave as you walked away. All his coworkers are already here—Shark Boy and Lava Girl whisper in the corner, Lava Girl’s hair turning shades of pink as Shark Boy says something cheeky. Tech-No is typing away on some sort of data pad at his side, Invisigirl coming into sight when the screen ahead of them flicks on with a report. The only noticeable absence is Miracle Guy, though Marcus can’t say he minds, focusing instead on the screen as a scientist goes through techno-babble on a new weapon he barely understands, trying to keep his focus when all his brain wants to think about is you.

Miracle Guy slips in at some point during the meeting, muttering under his breath to his seat neighbors before Anita shushes him, and Marcus rolls his eyes. Not soon enough, the meeting adjourns, and Marcus rushes from the room—maybe, if he goes back to the park, and waits all day, you’ll come back—it has to be on your walk to work, or he could stop by in the morning—

His train of thought is only interrupted when he walks directly into something, a small “oomf” leaving his lips as he instinctively reaches out to steady whatever he walked into; the smell of coffee fills the air, and he belatedly realizes it’s because it’s all over him and the person he walked into, apologies escaping his mouth as he quickly bends to try and clean up the mess on the floor.

“Marcus?” Your voice is small, and if it wasn’t for the soft splat of coffee dripping from the edge of your skirt to the floor, he’d think you were a dream, repeating your name back to you. You both look completely dumbfounded, the empty paper cup in your hands long forgotten as Marcus stays on his knees in front of you a beat too long, looking up through thick lashes until he realizes he’s staring.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry—I didn’t see you, and—” He speaks quickly as he walks over to someone’s desk, pulling tissues from their box.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, taking a tissue from his hand to blot your shirt, but your eyes never leave his as he cleans the puddle on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” he repeats, and you laugh.

“I told you I was a personal assistant—I wasn’t kidding when I said the world would end over a missed meeting,” you chuckle, Marcus standing with the soiled napkins to dispose of them and walking back to look at you in awe. “What do you do? Some kind of—” you pause to take in his outfit; a leather jacket and button-down shirt, thick rimmed glasses, no spandex in sight “—accounting?”

“No, not—” Marcus is interrupted before he can finish his thought.

“That better not be my coffee all over you.” Your entire face crumples as Miracle Guy strides up, turning his nose up. “Marcus, is she bothering you? First she makes me late this morning, now this, I—”

“No, no bother,” he replies shakily, both of you exchanging a look. “I actually spilled your coffee, not her. She was just in the crossfire,” he jokes, and you look relieved, silently thanking him for taking the fall.

“What, you bend a paperclip too hard, Iron Man?” Miracle Guy snorts, and you raise an eyebrow as Marcus rolls his eyes. Miracle Guy looks to you next. “Sweetheart, can you go get me another? And maybe clean up on your way back, can’t have you looking a mess when I meet the mayor later,” he sneers, walking away from you as you roll your eyes.

“Sorry about him,” you apologize. “Uh—I guess I’m on my way to get coffee, boss’s orders. Do you—do you want to come, maybe?” You offer shyly.

“Don’t you need to clean up?’” Marcus responds.

“Eh. It’s on the way. Besides—you gotta get out of those clothes before you rust, Iron Man,” you chuckle, beginning to walk toward the exit of the building, and Marcus follows obediently on your heels.

You’re back in HQ, waiting for the elevator with coffee-in-hand before you finally ask Marcus the origin of his new nickname.

“Why does he call you ‘Iron Man?’”

“Hm?”

“Miracle Guy—why does he call you ‘Iron Man,’” you repeat looking over to Marcus. He takes a long swig of his coffee before responding.

“Uh—I can move metal,” he mumbles, and you look at him incredulously.

“You—can move metal?” you ask with confusion, and Marcus looks around the lobby, eyes stopping on the silverware in the canteen. He reaches out a hand and flicks it, and several spoons raise from the counter, the cashier behind them rolling her eyes and moving to the back to gather more. With another flick, the cutlery flies over to where you’re standing, dumb-struck. They all float in front of you, then twist as Marcus twists his hand. You look from the spoons to Marcus in awe; several have morphed and twisted together, the bowls forming petals at the top as a makeshift flower lands softly in your hands.

“Uh—Yeah. I can move metal,” he replies sheepishly, and you look to the spoons and back to him again as he steps onto the elevator. You step on behind him, Miracle Guy’s coffee in one hand, the metal flower cradled in the other, and you both face the doors.

“You can move metal,” you chuckle, meeting his eyes as the doors open and Miracle Guy rushes over for his caffeine fix. The spoons stay cradled in your hand, placed gently on your desk outside Miracle Guy’s office, and you look to Marcus as he walks by with a broad smile.

“See you later, Iron Man.”

“See you, Pepper Potts,” he replies with a smile—the significance of Pepper in Tony Stark’s life not lost on him.

Despite flirtatious beginnings, your relationship with Marcus teetered between friendship and something more for some time; a metal pen appearing on your notebook when you searched for one in a meeting, an offer of a ride to work when he found out you took the bus each morning. You never treated him differently after discovering his superpowers, always quick to laugh at his dumb jokes or to place a hand on top of his when it felt like the world was crushing him. One day, after a particularly bad run-in with Black Siren, you both sat in the breakroom over coffee, silent under the dimmed lighting.

“I—I don’t know how to keep doing this,” Marcus admitted smally. So many lives had been lost, and while Black Siren was defeated in the end, he often wondered at what cost.

“You don’t have to,” you probed gently.

“I was born with superpowers. I have to.” You hum.

“You know—my mom used to say everyone had superpowers. Some people were born with ones like you, or like Miracle Guy, but some people—they have everyday superpowers,” you seem to weigh what you’re saying before continuing. “Like, do you know someone who’s really scary-good at crossword puzzles? Someone who never hits a red light on the way to work? Maybe those are their superpowers. Yours are moving metal, but that chef at Bello Italiano’s—his is making perfect pasta, and that guy at the baseball game last week—his is tossing popcorn in his mouth with impeccable aim,” you muse, reminiscing on a few of your recent outings with Marcus. Marcus swirls his coffee in contemplation.

“What is yours?” You look to him. “Your everyday superpower.”

“I’m not sure—but that’s not the point. My point is, maybe—maybe you don’t need to save everyone, Iron Man. Maybe the rest of the world, with their ability to win $1 lotto scratch offs or bowl a perfect strike or know exactly when their phone is done charging, maybe they can take a turn,” you shrug. “No one expects you to save everyone, Marcus. Not me, not Miracle Guy, not your mom. But even saving one person—that’s enough. It’s enough for them, it’s enough for me. And I wish it was enough for you,” you finish, taking another swig of your coffee. Marcus looks at you in admiration, your words settling over him like a film until you look at your watch.

“C’mon, Iron Man. Time to get you back to JARVIS,” you joke, gathering your items as he does the same. The walk to his car is quiet, dark except for the lamplights lining the parking lot, and before he turns to the driver’s side of the car, his hand finds yours.

“Thanks, Pepper,” he says reverently, and you nod.

“Any time, Stark,” you reply with a grin, squeezing his hand before letting go. The entire ride home, you think about how happy you are to have met him—to have run into him figuratively then literally, to have a man like Marcus in your life, so compassionate and caring only to be crushed by the weight of the world—and if he’d let you, you’d hold some of it for him.

In the driver’s seat, Marcus thinks about how hopelessly and endlessly in love with you he is.

Despite his late-night revelations, Marcus doesn’t act on his feelings; he tries to ignore it. Before he met you, he had these images of being a “normal” guy—careless flings, rolling out of bed to saunter into work, sports games blasting on the tv. Now, though—now he sees you in a white dress, rolling in the bed alongside him, light lullabies drifting through the house as a baby stops crying. Any wild, rebellious phase he had planned out the window, now a mostly crafted and calculated future missing the most important piece—you. And it’s terrifying.

You told him you didn’t know your superpower, but Marcus thinks he does—planning. There’s a reason you’re a PA, turning down several job offers that would get you better pay and away from Miracle Guy, and that’s because you’re good at it. Despite a few hiccups at the start, Miracle Guy has never attended more meetings, never shown more leadership potential than when you started as his assistant. Marcus has a sneaking suspicion that all of his plans, his routes of action may have come from you, but you won’t admit it, shrugging your shoulders when he asks you about it. Sure, Miracle Guy was the leader, but you—you were in charge.

You got lost in your mind sometimes, all your planning and plotting stored in the matter between your ears, going through mental checklist after mental checklist as you readied yourself for work. You knew how to talk down Lava Girl from an eruption, had a sushi restaurant on call for when Shark Boy got peckish. You made Vox her tea in the morning, you brought Tech-No his chargers before he even realized he forgot them. None of this was in your job description, but you seemed to have everything planned down to a T; even Miracle Guy’s coffee makes it to him on time and at temperature, no longer splashed over Marcus.

So when Marcus was assigned to lead the next recon mission, he knew exactly who to go to. He found you typing away outside of Miracle Guy’s office, only startled out of your work when Marcus flicked his wrists and gently lifted your laptop up and out of your reach, levitating it in the air.

“Hey, Iron Man, very funny,” you jest sarcastically, standing to pull the laptop back to you and placing it on your desk as he leaned against the edge.

“Hey, listen—I need your help,” he asks sheepishly, watching as you go back to typing.

“Marcus, you know I’m Miracle Guy’s assistant, not yours, right? I mean they offered you one and you said no, so—”

“No, not like—assistant stuff. I need advice,” he replies, ringing his hands, and you pick up on his nervous energy. You rest a hand on his knee, closing your laptop and giving him your full attention, so he continues. “They asked me to lead the recon mission for Brain Matter.”

“That’s great, Marcus!” you chirp, only stopping when you see his frown deepen. “I mean—that’s not great?” you try.

“No, I mean—it’s good, and it's clearly the setup for something more. But I don’t—I don’t know that I want to lead.” He emphasizes the last word, and you rub his leg soothingly. “I don’t know how to lead.”

“Sure you do,” you say gently, squeezing his knee before releasing your hold on him to count off on your fingers. “You’re smart, honest, you communicate well. God knows your resilient, growing up with your mom,” you joke, and it earns you a small chuckle. “You’re empathetic and kind. Don’t know many other leadership qualities than that.”

“Yeah, but—what if I mess up? What if no one listens to me and they all start fighting? Or what if—what if I do the wrong thing and it costs people their lives?”

“You won’t. I know you, Marcus. Any decision you make will be the right one,” you smile, and Marcus blushes, looking to his shoes. You both perk when you hear Miracle Guy call your name from his office, you standing to tend to him. “I gotta go. Just—lead by example. A team full of Marcuses? Brain Matter won’t know what hit her,” you joke, looking into Marcus’ eyes deeply before walking away, only caught again by his voice when your hand hits the door handle.

“Thanks, Pepper.”

“Any time, Iron Man.”

The mission goes…surprisingly well. So well, in fact, that Marcus can’t wait to tell you all about it. He hasn’t felt this way about his powers in years—in control and formidable. Sure, moving metal isn’t super helpful when it comes to a supervillain that reads Heroics’ minds, but Marcus had planned for that. Got the team impenetrable helmets, moved stealthily through the abandoned underground tunnels to the villain’s lair. He delegated tasks, sending Tech-No to download the files from Brain Matter’s computers, sending Invisigirl to free any prisoners being kept on lower levels.

What he hadn’t expected was Brain Matter showing up herself. Stuck in an underground cave, there isn’t much metal to be found, and his powers essentially became useless—a fact Miracle Guy was quick to remind him. Miracle Guy was ready to charge in and attack, use brute force to take down the opponent—but Marcus had a different strategy. Confuse her, render her so immobile with all their thoughts she couldn’t help but crumble. The two bickered quietly, determining the best plan, until your voice cut through Marcus’ brain. Lead by example.

So he did. He removed his helmet, releasing a flood of thoughts to the villain. A song he heard on the radio, what he needed to pick up from the grocery store, future dog names. It didn’t take long for Marcus’ thoughts to turn to you; the curve of your jaw, the sound of your laugh. The furrowed look you make when you type a particularly annoyed email. That sundress you wore last week that drove him crazy. A few of the other heroes followed, removing their helmets to think about any and everything they could. Soon, even Miracle Guy had removed his helmet, and Brain Matter had all but collapsed on the floor, thoroughly overwhelmed and easily captured and brought back to HQ—recon turned into recovery.

Marcus had expected to tell you all about it on the drive in the next day, but was surprised when he entered his office to put away his katanas to find you sitting at his desk, sleeping quietly in the lumpy office chair. It had gotten late, the mission taking much longer than anticipated after Brain Matter’s surprise appearance, but Marcus paused a minute just to take you in. Your face at rest for what felt like the first time, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept. You weren’t planning, or worrying, or organizing—you were just you. Marcus gently twisted the chair, and your eyes fluttered open.

“You’re back,” you said dreamily, still half asleep.

“I’m back,” he whispered.

“Tell me all about how great you were, team leader,” you tease, eyes barely opening and a sleepy smile across your face.

“Tomorrow,” he promised, and you nodded, the weight of your head sinking back into the chair.

“Hmm…can you make this chair carry me home?” you mumble blearily, and he lets out a small giggle.

“No, Pepper. Not enough metal. C’mon,” he reaches out, and despite the purely organic touch, he swears he feels sparks when your hands gently meet his. He pulls you to your feet, allowing you a moment to nuzzle into his side, arms pulling him into a deep hug. Marcus encircles you back, broad and all-encompassing, rubbing his thumb softly on the back of your neck.

“What is this for?” he teases lightly.

“I knew you could do it, Iron Man,” you murmur. “My hero.”

“C’mon, Pepper. Time for bed,” he replies softly, and you sigh, taking in his scent before pulling away. The two of you walk side-by-side, quiet and content, with shoulders brushing under the crescent moon, and he realizes that despite the terror, despite the dissolution of his original plans, his heart was unable to contain the love for you any longer. It was time to throw away the plan and wing it.

What you both hadn’t planned for, of course, was Vortex.

A few weeks after the mission, the day started like any other, Marcus idling outside your apartment at the sun barely peeked over the horizon—you got in with the same cheery demeanor, but it was clear something was eating him. His face was twisted like the metal he moves so effortlessly, hands wrapping and unwrapping around themselves so much you’re surprised the car hasn’t bent to his will.

“Is everything okay—” He interrupts before you can complete the thought.

“Would you want to go out to dinner tonight? With me?” He spits in one breath. Your face morphs to confusion.

“It’s Tuesday, Marcus. We always go to Taco Charlie’s on Tuesdays—”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, Taco Charlie’s. That’s what I meant,” he backtracks sheepishly, silently cursing himself at his choice in day—of course he messed this up, this is what happens when there’s no plan. Everything in his future seems to become foggier at the botched date, the picket fence, the shaggy dog, the noticeable absence of Miracle Guy’s BlackBerry chiming—

“Oh, shit. I forgot Guy’s phone inside,” you make to get out of the car, but he stops you.

“Pepper, we have that early meeting today with the President, we’re gonna be late—”

“Go without me,” you offer, and he furrows his brow. “I’ll take the bus. And then you can drive to Taco Charlie’s,” you chuckle, and he nods, rolling down the window as you shut the door.

“Okay, bye, Iron Man. Don’t save the world without me,” you joke, watching him wave from the car as you enter your apartment building, missing his final thoughts.

“Never, Pepper. Never.”

By the time Marcus makes it to the office, he finds an email letting him know the President needed to postpone a few hours—which gave him all the more time to focus on how royally he’s messed up. When a call came in for a new villain blowing down buildings, he was more than happy to let the team jump on the task and stay behind for the meeting, leaving Miracle Guy to lead them to an easy enemy to be taken down by super strength or super speed or a well-timed lightning bolt. He had more pressing matters to deal with—how deep the hole he wanted to crawl into should be, whether Taco Charlie’s would be willing to poison him if he tipped well, if he would ever recover from his failure of asking you on a date—

He’s so consumed with his thoughts he barely notices the still silence of HQ, all the heroes out to defeat the new foe. He, of course, does notice your empty desk—the metal flower he twisted sitting in a cup perched exactly where you always left it—but doesn’t have too much time to think about it, as his meeting with the President is coming up. He figures you’re out getting coffee, cleaning up the messes Miracle Guy no doubt left behind trying to show off his powers, probably laughing at how pathetic his attempt was to ask you out.

Marcus waits several minutes for the President to show up on the video feed, used to his lateness after years of dealing with public officials, but when the video crackles to life, he jumps to his feet with a start. Instead of the President, he sees a feed of some kind of dungeon; dark and musty, a few yellow-orange lights illuminating the space enough to make out some hunched figures.

“You’ve messed up, Moreno.” The sound of the booming voice makes Marcus’ heart beat in his throat. Suddenly, a loud grinding is heard, and sunlight seems to stream into the space, illuminating the figures.

Every single Heroic who was sent on the mission this morning comes into focus, all bleary and clearly injured. Tech-No is on the ground, all technology removed from his person. Blinding Fast is tied at the ankles, Lava Girl is submerged in water, Vox’s mouth is tied by a dirty cloth. Each one of them seems to be bloodied and injured, then contained in a way to render their powers useless. He can hear them groan in pain—even Miracle Guy is in tatters, limbs bound and chained to the floor to prevent flight.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Marcus responds in his clearest, most authoritative voice.

“Ah, good. You see what I’ve done with your associates.” A figure walks forward from the shadows; Vortex. Marcus recognizes the suit he wears from previous intel meetings, but they were told, despite his ability to move air to his will, he was a low-threat enemy. How could he have defeated every single Heroic?

“Now that you see what I’ve done to your colleagues, let’s see how you react when I go after those you love.” Marcus barely has a moment to digest the words, Vortex moving the air around him to fly up through the open hole to what appears to be the Earth’s surface. There, Marcus sees his worst nightmare.

You’re immobilized on the sidewalk, wind swirling so strongly around you it looks like you might blow away. Leaves, debris, all kinds of items swirl in its wake—Marcus can’t help but to scream your name.

“Marcus? What’s happening?” You yell over the deafening wind, clearly terrified.

“Yeah, Marcus, what’s happening?” Vortex mocks, flicking his fingers so the wind picks up. It starts to carry you off the ground, and you scream as your feet leave the earth, wind whipping you around until you can barely see straight. The only thing you can yell is Marcus’ name—every heartstring he has is cut to bits at the sound. He watches as you move higher and higher in the air, finally jumping into action.

“Put her down, Vortex. This is between us, not her.” His voice wavers slightly, authoritative tone gone when your life is on the line.

“Oh? Put her down? Okay,” Vortex smirks, stopping the whirlwind around you until you fall hard onto the pavement, head hitting the stone with a sick crack—Marcus yells out your name, and you groan in response.

“Oh, what? That’s not what you meant? Let me try again—” Vortex continues his taunts, picking up your limp body and moving the air around it until you’re in a standing position. Marcus can see every cut and bruise forming, the drips of blood running down your cheeks and matting in your hair, the unfocused gaze of your eyes. Marcus thinks he may throw up when Vortex lifts you again, dropping you to the ground like a sack of bricks as you crumple and groan.

“Why are you doing this?!” Marcus demands, moving closer to the screen. He can see your chest moving shallowly, panic rising as you seem to be lifted again.

“Meet me at Capitol Park in fifteen minutes, Moreno. And maybe she will live.” Marcus watches one more time as the air supporting you suddenly ceases, your limp body falling from the sky. Before you hit the ground, the video feed cuts—leaving Marcus with only a sick sense of dread and the sound of your screams reverberating in his brain.

Marcus is sprinting out of the conference room and down the halls before the screen can go idle. When he passes his office, he doesn’t even flick his wrist—his katanas come flying out of the open door, nudging his tight fists until they open and take them like an obedient dog. Marcus doesn’t stop moving, sheathing the blades as he runs and activating his drone pack mid-sprint until he’s lifted high above the city streets.

He gets to Capitol Park in ten minutes, but his mind barely registers it. Everything feels soupy, his brain only focused on the image of your limp body, on the sound of your screams for him. He couldn’t protect you. He couldn’t help you, he couldn’t tell you how he felt—he couldn’t even get the courage to ask you out. He was worthless as a Heroic, as a man. And now he’s going to lose you, if he hasn’t already.

He’s brought out of his pity party when the leaves begin to rustle around him and the wind picks up; he knows Vortex is nearby. He unsheathes his katanas and stands at the ready, trying to appear confident but inwardly terrified. His jaw is set, legs fixed in a fighting stance as Vortex seems to flutter down to the ground, the wind carrying him ceasing and bringing the park to still silence.

“Good, Moreno. You’re on time,” Vortex smirks.

“Where is she?” Marcus snarls.

“She’s alive, Moreno, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vortex hums. Neither man makes any moves at each other, though Vortex appears calm. The park had quickly cleared out upon his arrival, citizens escaping when the recognized the threat, leaving only the two men in a stand-off. “Though maybe not for much longer.”

Marcus breaks the standoff first, charging at the villain. Vortex throws gusts of wind his way, but Marcus fights through them, katanas magnetized to his hands to keep them from flying away. When he gets close, Vortex swirls the air around him, floating up into the sky again and out of reach—Marcus counters by manipulating the nearby light post, knocking the enemy down to the ground again. The two tousle across the ground, fighting in hand-to-hand combat as they roll through the grass.

“Where is she!” Marcus questions again, gaining an upper hand. Vortex is quick to use the wind to his advantage, using it to flip them both over until he gains the advantage.

“You’ll be too late, Moreno,” he growls.

“Why are you doing this?!” Marcus shouts, pushing the man off of him and magnetizing his lost katanas back to his hands. Vortex also stands, both men beaten and weary but neither ready to give up. Vortex uses his powers to start sending random objects Marcus’ way, branches and small stones and loose bricks, but Marcus blocks each one with his katana artfully, sending one of his blades flying toward Vortex, who blocks it with a gust of wind and sends it clattering to the ground.

The fight continues throughout the park, no regard for property damage or the surrounding area as each of them continue to hurl random items through the air. Vortex pauses, chest heaving and leaning on the bench in front of him to continue his tirade.

“You—you took the one I love! It’s only fair that you pay,” Vortex heaves.

“What are you talking about?!” Vortex scoffs.

“You Heroics, always so quick to forget. You do this for the fame and fortune, Moreno? You don’t care about those you hurt?!”

“Cut the games, Vortex.”

“No! You—you killed Breanna, and now I’m going to kill you!” Marcus sees Vortex’s hands squeeze on the bench, his focus brought to the wrought iron—it’s the bench he found you on all those months ago, before he knew. Before he knew you worked at the Heroics, before he knew how much you would mean to him. Before his plans seemed to simultaneously appear and disappear before his eyes. Marcus falters at the thought, and Vortex takes advantage of it—the bench under his hands lifted in the air and thrown at Marcus. Coming back to focus, back to you, is all he needs to think about; Marcus throws all his energy back at the bench, the intricate metal hovering between the two men as their powers compete.

“Who the hell is Breanna?!”

“Brain Matter! I loved her, Moreno!” The heavy bench surged toward Marcus, and Marcus fought to push it back toward Vortex.

“What are you talking about? Brain Matter is alive!” Marcus yells over the rushing wind, and for a second, Vortex falters at the news. Using the slight distraction, Marcus manages to push the bench onto Vortex, pushing the man back and pinning him to the ground.

“Tell me where she is,” Marcus growls, and when Vortex doesn’t answer immediately, he crunches his fists to dig the heavy bench further into him. Other Heroic employees are beginning to close in, heavy power-proof handcuffs in their hands, but Marcus stays on top of Vortex. “Tell me!”

“She—she’s in Brain Matter’s lair with the other Heroics,” he wheezes, seeming to finally accept defeat. “Br—Brain Matter?”

“Brain Matter is alive and being held in the prisons at Heroics HQ. Uninjured. Which is more than I can say for you if my girl’s dead—” Marcus snarls, letting the other Heroic associates move the bench off Vortex and cuff him. When he sees Vortex secured, he immediately takes off on his drone pack; his body feels ten times heavier, every scratch and scrape aching acutely from the fight, but all he can focus on is getting to you.

The flight to Brain Matter’s not-so-abandoned hideout seemed to pass in an instant; Marcus coming to a stop at the top of the tunnel Vortex had flown out of. He sees Miracle Guy’s phone on the ground, shattered—it feels like its been ripped from his heart. He falters again, body stuttering at the sigh. The light sheen of blood on the asphalt is the only thing than brings him back from his reverie, and he descends into the tunnel.

It takes only a moment for him to take in the scene before him before he’s jumping into action. The previously defeated Heroics are looking a bit better, more aware and almost relieved when they see it’s Marcus dropping in. Marcus immediately twists his wrists, vibrating the cuffs around Miracle Guy at such a high frequency that they practically shatter—the defeated hero immediately stands to his feet.

“Where—where is she,” Marcus breathes desperately. Miracle Guy looks almost apologetic, and Marcus continues. “Release the others—get them back to medical. I—I need to find her.” Miracle Guy nods, taking only a moment to grab Marcus’ bicep.

“You will, Boss.” There’s no malice in his words, pure trust put in Marcus. The two men nod, then break in opposite directions; Miracle Guy moving toward his fallen counterparts, Marcus sprinting further into the lair to find you.

Marcus jogs through the convoluted tunnels of the underground, each one appearing darker and more confusing as he enters the depths. He’s sure he’s doubling back on himself, any and all of his mental energy going to thoughts of you. Why he didn’t force you to leave Miracle Guy’s phone behind, if you would ever forgive him for putting you in danger. Whether you were even alive. The pure dread he feels dissipates when he hears a low groan to his right, immediately veering off to follow the sound.

He finds you crumpled on the damp ground, tossed without a care, and immediately he runs to your side, placing a delicate hand on your arm and breathing heavily into your space. His heart shatters for what feels like the millionth time when you flinch away from him.

“It—it’s okay, baby. It’s me,” he tries gently, watching as your eyes open and close, unfocused. When he reaches for you again, you almost lean into his touch.

“M-Marcus?”

“Yeah—yeah, Pepper. It’s me,” he coos, brushing dirty matted hair from your face as he takes you in. You try to move closer to him, but wince with the movement; Marcus grasps your hand tightly. “Don’t move, baby. I—I’m gonna get you out of here. I got you, you’re okay,” his voice cracks as he tries to gather you, and you groan.

“Did—did you beat him?” you ask weakly.

“Yeah. Yeah, baby. I did. For you.” You hum softly.

“Marcus Moreno, my hero,” you try to croon, barely able to get out the words before you succumb to unconsciousness. Finally unable to be strong any longer, Marcus breaks, letting tears fall softly into your skin as he grips your hand like a lifeline.

He keeps his grip on your hand as the Heroic medical team funnels in, led by Miracle Guy. As they lead you out of the maze of tunnels, as the medics yell numbers that mean nothing to him other than the fact that you’re still alive. His hand only leaves yours when the wheel you back behind doors he’s no longer allowed behind. He considers flaunting his position to continue with you, to follow you to the end of the earth, but Anita’s waiting for him at the entrance with a look he can’t quite place, and he has to let you go.

Marcus waits at your bedside as soon as he can, hand wrapped back into yours if only to remind him you’re still here. Concussed, bruised, battered, but alive. He promises himself as soon as you wake up, he’s going to tell you. Going to tell you that he’s to blame for your injuries, that he loves you too much to let you continue being his friend, his anything—even if he loves you with every fiber of his being. Even if he never wants to let go of your hand again, even if it will kill him to do so—he wants you safe. That’s his only priority.

You give him three days to teeter on his decision. Three days of unconsciousness, three days of doubt whether you’d ever return to him. Marcus never leaves—savoring whatever time he has with you to stroke his thumb over your palm, to push errant hairs from your face. Anita comes and goes, even Miracle Guy comes to check in. But Marcus doesn’t move, barely sleeping or eating or breathing until he can be lulled by the rise and fall of your chest.

It’s late at night when you come back to him. Blinking delicate eyes open, eyes Marcus didn’t know if he’d ever see again. Although bleary, you have a small smile on your face, and you squeeze his hand in yours, unwilling to let it go when he tries to pull away. Marcus stares at you reverently, the breakable heaven tense over the room at the sight of each other.

“Iron Man,” you smirk gently. “I—I’m sorry I missed our date.”

“You’re sorry?” Marcus responds incredulously. “I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for me you would’ve never gotten hurt and—wait, did you just say ‘date?’” With six simple words, any plan he had for what he was going to say, for how he could possibly push you away when all he wanted to do was pull you closer, was thrown out the window.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Sorry—did I read that wrong? I thought—I thought you were asking me on a date in the car—”

“I was,” Marcus confirms, and you nod with a smile and deep breath. “But I thought—I didn’t—” You squeeze his hand in yours, humming.

“I know,” you laugh, gasping when the action causes pain, and Marcus practically jumps to his feet, but you shake your head. “I got you, Marcus. I always got you.”

“But—but I couldn’t get you,” he counters.

“You did. You got Vortex.”

“But—but you were only in the situation to begin with because of me. Because of decisions I made,” he practically whines.

“I thought I told you that any decisions you make are the right ones,” you chide. Marcus lets the silence hang over the room.

“How could this possibly be right when it led to this?” You pull his hand toward you, and his body follows it until he’s hovering over you. With any strength you have left, you lift your body from the bed to press your lips gently to his.

“Exactly. It led to this,” you breathe into his mouth, and Marcus’s brain finally catches up with him. He presses his mouth back to yours greedily, lips locking and moving in unison with yours as he hears your heart monitor speed up to his side. When he pulls away, you bring a hand to his cheek, holding him close to you.

“I love you,” he admits almost sheepishly, tears forming at his lashes. “I—God, I had all these plans for how I was gonna do this, with flowers and chocolates and—" He pauses for a moment, hands flicking to bring various metal medical tools that were left in the room to hover in the air. Scalpels and tweezers and scissors twist into a lopsided heart, which he hands to you as you laugh lightly, careful of the many sharp edges. "I—I love you, and I thought—I thought—”

“I love you too, Marcus,” you quiet him, pulling him into the cramped medical cot with you. He settles into your side, chin to the crown of your head and inhales your scent—when it enters his brain, it brings forward all those plans he had made—plans he thought he lost. Picket fences and white dresses and baby shoes. He’s so absorbed in thought that he doesn’t notice the comfortable silence hanging over the room.

“What’ch’you thinkin’ about up there, Iron Man,” you tease gently. “I can hear your gears turning from here.”

“They—they asked me to be the leader of the Heroics,” he says bashfully.

“And?” you press.

“I told them I’d only do it if you lead the command center,” Marcus retorts, and you look up to him in confusion. “You—you’re the only one I want by my side out there. In life, too—but especially out there.” You nod as if you’re considering his words.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” you agree, watching as Marcus’ face splits into a broad smile. He presses his lips to yours again, almost celebratory, then presses his forehead to yours to bask in your presence.

“I think I figured out your everyday superpower,” Marcus admits shyly, keening when you snuggle closer to him despite the limited space in the cot. You hum in response, waiting for him to continue. “Being you.”

“That’s not a superpower, Marcus,” you complain, playfully swatting his arm.

“It is to me. It is when it’s you,” he responds, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You both bask in the moment, finally not focusing on the future or the ideas or planning; you focus on each other. And finally, for the first time in his life, Marcus is thankful for his superpowers.

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