#if he says yes i'm going to have to bite the bullet and either make a move or at least ASK about it

[robbiedaymonds]

local desperate ace asks hot friend out on a not-not-a-date to an aquarium on her birthday. because desperate. 

[m1ngkis]

Jealous mean San << (18+)

A/N: MINORS BE GONE. This contains fingering, degradation (he call you a slut ALOT), San being jealous and mean to you of course, its in a parking lot but nobody catches them. Enjoy!

"Say it again.." His breath was heavy in your ear as he leaned over your trembling form.

"I- I can't" Your fingers dug into his forearm as his fingers plunged in and out of your needy pussy.

"You can, you will. Even if I have to fuck it out of you." His free hand gripped up your chin and forced your head up to meet his eyes, angry and desperate.

"Sannie~" You whine at him as your toes start to curl, his fingers picking up speed, the lewd sounds of your arousal only bringing you closer to the edge.

"Don't whine about it now. You knew what you were doing with that guy."

Ah yes, that guy. The guy that bought you a drink at the bar and took your short dress and friendly smile as an invitation to crowd your space and slip a hand up your dress.

You had never seen San move so fast, snapping the guys wrist and all but dragging you out of the bar, into the backseat of his car with fury blazing in his pupils.

San was always the jealous type, overreacting to situations more often than not but this had been the first time he had blamed you for how things went down.

"The fuck were you thinking going out like this huh?" Even though he gave his approval before you left the house. "No wonder he thinks your so easy."

"I'm not easy!" You had yelled back in his face.

"Liar. Tell the truth! You're an easy little slut, aren't you?" His frame had towered over you in the car, making you feel caged between him and the seats until you were laying flat, your legs on either side of his hips. "Look at you now. So pretty and you'd probably let me fuck you in this parking lot huh? Want everybody to see you fall apart for me?"

You shook your head even though your eyes betrayed you. The idea thrilled you and he could see how much when you didn't even put up a fight when his fingers slipped past your panties and through your slick folds.

San had edged you for the last ten minutes at least and he would keep doing it until you said the words.

"You're just an easy slut. Say it and you can cum on my fingers."

"I don't wanna say it! It's not true!" Your eyes brimmed with tears as your body shook with another denied orgasm.

"This pussy is soaking me up to my elbow. Try again." San's head dipped to your chest, sinking his teeth into your skin as his fingers started up again, ramming into your hole with a set purpose.

Your back arched up and your eyes rolled back, his name broken on your trembling lips. "Please.. please god!"

"God isn't here baby. He can't save you so say. the fucking. words." He growled into your ear.

"I-I'm a.." A chill ripped through your spine as the knot in your belly clenched tight.

"That's it.. That's my girl. Get it out."

"I'm an easy slut!"

"That's right. My pretty slut wanna come on my fingers?" You nodded your head with vigor as your high hit like a bullet train, your thighs squeezing together and locking San's hand in place.

He stays put until you come back to earth, placing a soothing kiss of his bite and slipping his fingers out of you. "That wasn't so hard right?"

[peppermintquartz]

"Evan?"

"Yes, babe?"

"Were you ever interested in Eddie?"

Buck nearly chokes on his juice. Coughing, he waves aside Tommy's startled concern. "Uh, I kinda need to. Okay. Are we talking in general or, like, specifically romantic attraction? Sexual attraction?"

Tommy shrugs. He's still shirtless at the moment, which means the morning light gilds his chest (and chest hair) in gold and bronze. Buck has seen this sight for months now, and he still utters a silent thanks to God for making Tommy's nipples ultra sensitive.

"Evan?" The older man tilts his head quizzically.

Oh, right. Buck sits back in his chair. "I guess I did kinda feel some way about him when he first showed up? I mean, he's good-looking. And he has very pretty eyes."

Tommy is chewing on a bite of sausage. "So how come you never made a move on him?"

"I don't know. Never thought about it, really. I mean, once he showed me Christopher, I just wanted to know more about the kid." Buck takes another careful sip of his guava juice. "And after that, either I was dating someone or he was dating. We were just punks trying to get through our own stuff. I never even considered it." He frowns at Tommy. "Why? What's got you asking?"

Tommy glances at his scrambled eggs and shifts in his seat. "Last night, when I was out with Hen and Chimney, they talked about you two being best buds. And Hen said that she'd thought you two would've made a cute couple." His cheeks flush a dark pink. "That was after several rounds of drinks, but, uh, it stuck in my head."

Feeling annoyed at Hen, Buck reaches under the table to pat Tommy's knee, knowing that it will be restlessly bouncing. His boyfriend, Mr Tommy "So Cool" Kinard, needing Buck's reassurance before he can once again be at ease in his skin. It makes Buck feel warm and protective.

"Maybe only in appearance," says Buck, thinking through the issue. "But our personalities would clash if we dated, I think. I mean, I'm not good at giving people space. I'd have smothered him by week two. You don't mind telling me if you need to be alone for a bit, and I like that you always let me know when you're ready to be us again. I don't think Eddie would ever say that until he's fed up, and then he'd shout it or give me the cold shoulder."

"You two seem to do well together as a unit though. And you love Christopher."

"Christopher is lovable because of who he is, not because I know his dad," Buck says, a little sharply. He squeezes Tommy's knee. It stops moving. "Eddie and I are best friends, and we love each other. But... I've seen him almost die, twice, and I would think that if I felt romantic love for him, that would have been the moment, you know? Buried in mud. Almost losing him to a bullet. But all I felt was terror of losing a friend I trust, and having to tell Chris about it if the worst happened."

Buck can't hide the tremor in his voice, and now it's Tommy's turn to hold his hand.

"I'm sorry you both had to go through that," Tommy says sincerely, his gaze soft.

Taking a deep breath, Buck exhales and smiles at his boyfriend. "With you, I just wanted to, I don't know, I was curious about you, about everything that had to do with you. I thought I only wanted to be your friend, and yet I was so upset after Eddie and you took off to watch the fight in Vegas, I kinda... Well, I was actually angry at Eddie, looking back on it. Irrationally so. I've never felt that sort of jealousy. And, yes, I did think it was because of Eddie that I was jealous, but the moment I saw you on the basketball court I wasn't angry at you at all. I was... Well, I was happy to see you."

Tommy chuckles. "I was trying not to show how happy I was to see you there too."

"So, yeah," says Buck. "Long roundabout way to say that yes, I did think Eddie is attractive, because I have eyes, but I've never felt giddy and light the way I do when you smile at me. Both of you make me happy, in different ways." He leans over to peck a kiss on Tommy's stubbled cheek. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

Tommy relaxes. "No, I am." He takes Buck by the chin, exactly how he did it that first time, and draws Buck in for a proper kiss. "Thank you. Didn't know I needed to hear that until I did."

"I'm glad you asked," says Buck, "instead of stewing over it until it drives you mad. And I'll always be honest with you, okay? I promise."

"Ditto," replies Tommy, kissing Buck again, just because.

--

edited on AO3

[hihomeghere]

Charles fluff and maybe even a tad bit of angst given the prompts, who knows, but please write prompt 48 and 64 for Charles I will literally die of joy plus we need more fluffy fics of him <333

- ੈ✩ 🍡 ‧₊˚

Word count : 1230 Warnings/tags : love confessions, fluff, cursing Prompts : #48, You make me want things I can't have #64, I'm not sure what to do with these feelings for you hope you enjoy, smooches!

Charles was an enigma. Joining the gang nearly seven months ago, he seamlessly fit into the band of outlaws. He kept his head down, taking it upon himself to complete tasks before Miss Grimshaw lost her mind about them. 

Like a well oiled machine he moved around camp, fixing what needed to be fixed, getting done what needed to be done. Whether that be fixing a wagon wheel, or carrying bales over to the horses. He did it without complaint and unprompted. 

He moved like a shadow, silently, not speaking unless spoken to first. Even at that he would normally only respond with one word answers, yes, no. You had been wary of him at first. Not appreciating his almost cold presence. Although the longer you got to know him you saw through his standoffish persona, seeing the warm, passionate man underneath. To others he may have seemed unwelcoming, a puzzle that wasn’t worth solving. But you had always liked a challenge.

You couldn’t say what had first drawn you to him. It wasn’t like a moth to a flame, no. It was gradual, like a ship pulled towards a lighthouse. Something about him was like a beacon, calling to you across the stormy seas of life. Perhaps it was the way the morning light fell against his dark locs, deep golden beams cutting through his silky strands. Or the way the firelight made his umber skin glow as he sat around the fire. Always offering his assistance when anyone seemed to struggle. His near obsidian eyes piercing your very soul every time they found yours. You picked him apart piece by piece, longing for him to bear the most intimate parts to you.

Or maybe it was because he played so damn hard to get. You thought you were being obvious in your affection. If it was anyone else, even someone as daft as Sean would have realized your intentions.

Instead, when you asked for him to accompany you to the general store, or if he wouldn’t mind your company around the fire, he would only give you a small nod. It was infuriating. Either he was too kind to reject your advances, or he seriously couldn’t see how much you cared for him.

But you were not a woman to give up so easily, you doubled down your efforts. You would go out of your way to interact with him. Damn near running to grab a seat near him whenever you heard him start to play the harmonica. Your eyes constantly searched for him at camp, which did earn you a scolding or two when you were supposed to be doing chores. It was well worth Miss Grimshaw’s tongue lashing every time.

How were you supposed to focus when he would bring that axe down, his arms glistening with sweat. Or when his skillful fingers fashioned poisoned arrows, grinding up the Oleander he had carefully picked. 

He was kind, thoughtful with a dry sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. You would consider him a friend even if you wanted something more. The thought that you could ruin what you had between the two of you, just because of your traitorous heart, ran a chill through you. A few times you had suspected he might feel the same, but nothing would come from a lingering glance or his fleeting touch.

Any time you had a free moment you would come up with something to talk to him about. Karen and the other girls had taken to teasing you. Although their words caused heat to flood your cheeks, you knew they weren’t wrong. You were sweet on him. Perhaps you weren't as clear in your feelings as you hoped, perhaps you needed to bite the bullet and just come clean about your feelings.

“Charles, do you have a moment?” You asked, giving him a small smile. Hoping your calm demeanor would hide the anxiety building under the surface. Butterflies erupting in your stomach as his dark eyes found yours.

“For you, always.” He nodded, setting down the piece of wood he was whittling. You discreetly wiped your sweaty palms off on your skirt as he got to his feet. “Lead the way.”

The two of you walked down to the sandy shore near camp. Staring out at the rippling surface of Flat Iron lake. 

“Charles I-“ you bit your lip, the words getting caught in your throat as you looked up at him. “I have to tell you something.”

“Alright…” His tone was apprehensive as he looked at you.

“I…” You picked at your fingers, sinking slightly into the sand below your feet. “I care for you.” You said raising your eyes to meet him. 

His face was near emotionless other than the small furrow of his brows. 

“I care for you and-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off, his jaw clenched as his hands landed on his hips. “Don’t say anymore.” You swallow thickly, trying to get past the lump that’s growing in your throat. Your heart sinking like a stone into your stomach.

“I just- I don’t know what to do with these feelings for you.” You said softly, his rejection stinging like a slap to the face. He squeezed his eyes shut, like your words were physically paining him.

“Damn it you-“ He sighed, shaking his head, “you make me want things I can’t have.”

“What?” You asked, your brows knitting together as you stared at him. 

“You. You make me want you and I- I can’t have you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted you. Your mouth fell open, stunned to silence by his confession. He let out a frustrated sigh, turning to walk away from you. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

“Why the hell not?” You asked, shaking your head.

“Y/n, look at me. Look at us. We’re from two different worlds and I won’t- I won’t subject you to my suffering.” He finished, anguish shining in his eyes. 

“When have we ever played by the rules?” You scoffed lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t care. I don’t care where you come from, I just care about you. Who you are.” You raised your hand slowly, giving him all the time to pull away. You cupped his face, running your thumb over his scarred cheek. “I- I’m falling for you Charles.” You admitted.

“Damn it.” He sighed, his eyes shut tight as he looked down. As though he was wrestling with himself, eventually one side won. His eyes raised to meet yours, nearly taking your breath away as he caught your gaze. 

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. You squeaked, your body tensing before you melted into his embrace. Your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him close.

The two of you parted for air, his forehead resting against yours. “You have no idea how hard this has been, trying to avoid you, ignore you, your touches,” He mumbled against your lips. “You’ve driven me crazy.” A smile spread across his lips.

“Drove you crazy? I was suspecting you might just be oblivious.” You chuckled breathlessly, shaking your head as you cupped his cheek. He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“Not oblivious, just a fool.”

[skinnywalker]

Professional protector (Aaron Hotchner x nanny! male reader)

It's become a slight problem. Most nights it Hotch was late. Some he wasn't home at all and babysitters were only so reliable.

"You're really using Garica to get a other new babysitter?"

"I'm not trust random teens with my boy."

Emily rolls her eyes and pulls away the file of potential names.

"Can't you just hire a full time?"

Hotch groans.

"Same problem."

"Well it's either a once time issue or a till-jack-is-grown issue so make up you mind."

She's right of course, he needs to just bite the bullet.

After nearly an hour of barely scrapable options Hotch's attention was caught by a face.

Young, clean cut, handsome and with a bakround in child care. He gives Hocth a strange stomach twist, the kind he felt in high-school when he meet Harley. That same at once connection.

"Is he free?"

"Looks like it. Says on his employee web page he is open for full weekdays."

"Send that to me would you?"

Garcia can't help the small grin that crosses her lips.

"At once my lord."

From his nightstand the buzz of that familiar notification sounds him awake.

Clients.

He checks the profile his boss Diane always sends but this one is different than normal. He is used to business men who don't have time for their children but the man is an FBI agent and high in ranks too.

Doesn't look half bad either.

"How much is the pay?

"60 an hour."

He stops dead in his track.

"60? For one child and house sitting?"

"Ahuh. He asked me if that was too low."

"Too low?!"

She smiled at him with a gleam I her eyes.

"He really wanted you specifically."

Hotch keep glancing at his watch. He wasn't late but Hotch was nervous he might be.

"Excuse are you Mr. Hotchner?"

He's pretty in person Hotch thinks. More real. More warm. He's bright-looking but not cocky. Fair featured but no vain. He could reach out his hand and Hotch would near before him to kiss it without even thinking.

"Yes, you must be the nanny."

"Ahuh. Would you like to go over the details of what you need me to do while your away?"

Hotch smiles. He has no clue why but it feels natural.

"Of course."

Hotch leads him through the house explain everything he needs from the house care side of things.

"-and if you can't try to fold the blankets to fit in properly I'd be really thankful."

"Of course. What about your son?"

"Jack spends most of the day at school. He still in k-8 and does sometimes need homework help. He can make his own food but often prefers it made. He has 2-3 hours of screen time weekdays and 4 on weekends. He'll want to call me when I'm out of town which you can also do if you need anything."

He nods. Simple kid.

"He always wants to come along on grocery trips and basically anytime you leave the house."

Hotch hands him the house keys.

"And most importantly he'll ask for want he wants and his bedtime is 8:30."

"Got it. I call you at night if I have questions."

"Daddy?"

The two turn to see a sleepy toddler standing in door way. His spider-man pj's frumbled from napping.

"Hey Jack buddy, this is your new babysitter. He'll be here all day till I come back in the evenings so you don't have to be alone at home."

Jack looks up. Hotch feels the two smiling at eachother. His heart is aching know Jack is already bonding with the nanny. This have been a good idea.

"I have to go home today Jack but I'll see you again tomorrow ok?"

"Ok! Can we play with my Lego pirates."

"We can play whatever you want to Jack."

Hotch loves that smile on Jack. The innocent love. His boy is safe.

"Hotch? We have an emergency."

"What is it J.J.?"

"Ten victims all male in their 20s and the unsub is moving."

"I'll be there in ten mintues."

Hotch's body knows the routine of his morning work runs so well it work on autopilot.

Lastly he kisses Jack's sleeping head and text his new nanny 8 words.

"Flying for work for at least a week."

He'll get what I mean Hotch thinks before he stops himself. Why is he so sure? He doesn't even know the guy and he is trusting him like an old friend already. That's not good but Hotch can't seem to stop himself. He doesn't trust easily but something about him is so safe. So at home at ease. Hotch hates how his walls are just gone the moment he met a pretty man who takes care of his son. Hotch hopes he'll stay.

"He's targeting men who seem successful in love. Men with kids and partners and well paying jobs. Young man living how he wants to live. And he does it through robbery and hold ups. He is choosing targets on the fly."

"Where do we thinking he is making his way to?"

"Maybe his home or his get away car. I don't think he can keep this up for too long and I know he thinks that too."

At the hotel Hotch picks up his nightly call.

"How's your nanny been buddy?"

"I love daddy! He is super smart and he knew all about the history for my test on Tuesday and he makes such good pasta and he read me all the books I have trouble with!"

Hotch feel his stomach twist again. Just like a dad.

"That's great buddy. I'm glad you like him so much."

"He is gonna be my new best friend."

"I'm sure he will sweets now you need to good to bed."

"Ok, Goodnight daddy."

"Sleepwell Buddy. I love you."

"Love you too!"

He's safe. He's for the first time Hotch feels confident in thinking that Jack is really safe and happy. He sleeps better that night then he has in a while.

"Unsub is now in Virginia and he's getting risky. Going straight for our home now. He might even be there at this moment."

"So we came out here just to go home?"

"No, we came out here to know for certain he is home. Let's go."

Jack had asked to come along to the Cafe. He had followed his nanny to the counter and was rewarded with a small pink lemonade.

"Have you ever tried limeade or just lemon?"

He shakes his head no.

"Never liked lime. Too sour."

He chuckles.

"I like a lot of sour things especially ones that have some sweet in them."

"Everyone get on the floor! This is a hold up and if everyone behaves no one will get hurt."

Jack looks up confused and then frighten.

"Nanny?"

"Comere Jack. Everything will be alright."

"We've tracked him to a Cafe he's holding up. Swat is on their way but we don't time on our side."

"How fast can we get there?"

"20."

"20 is not fast enough."

"You, with the blonde kid. Move up here."

His arms wrap around Jack and gently lead them both to the front.

"Give him to me."

"No."

His breathing hitches.

"I'm not letting you near him. You'll have to take me first."

The click of the handriffle echoed in his ears before he felt the the world go black.

When the room came back into focus he realized he was in the ER. His chest was burning. He could feel the dizziness bringing him in and out of blurry awareness.

"Hey, just rest, you're really injured."

"Jack.. what about Jack?"

"He's safe with his father."

A knock at the door interrupts them.

"Hello Doctor is it OK for me to see him?"

"Mr. Hotch? Is that you?"

Hotch leans over the hospital bed brush some hair.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been worse."

"Worse than shot?"

He giggled even though it hurt.

"Yeah. I'm better knowing Jack is safe."

"He was really scared for you, so was I. You don't know how much it means to me that you put yourself in such danger for my boy."

"I'd do it again."

Hotch felt strange. On one hand he was deeply relieved that he was safe but such a close call had his nerves in a twist. It was like a weight had been added to his psyche. Hotch couldn't let anything happen to him. He felt protective.

"How is he?"

"Exhausted but ok."

"Hotch I know he is just your nanny but you seem pretty worried."

"I can't help but be. He nearly died keeping Jack safe. I don't know what could've happened if I hired someone less bare. This whole time I've felt so.... connected with him. Like he is someone who I can trust."

"Does Agent Aaron Hotchner have a slight crush."

Oh no.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

omg yES I'd love a part two to the Captain Rex headcanons with an anxious reader with the relationship part since you offered! ;u; I loved the first part so much (and that you included more from the 501st!) tytytyty 💙💙💙

Aw anon I'm so glad! Thank you for coming back as well, and continuing to fuel my feelings for our fine captain. 💙

Warnings and Information: Largely the same as part one. Undescribed fem!Reader with unspecified anxiety/anxious tendencies. Lots of fluff and other good feelings, primarily. Follows bullet point format. No Mando'a used this time. Reader is given different "nicknames" from the Clones to by-pass the use of a name in some cases.

Word count: 2,458

The set-up 

The first time he goes to ask you if you'd like to grab some caf together, or go check out that little corner store not too far from the base by speederbike that one of your coworkers mentioned to you in passing, Rex puts in the effort to clean up his armor a bit. Now he doesn't go so far as to polish and repaint all the parts, but he doesn't want to look fresh off a battlefield either where he's caked in mud and dirt and ash. He wants to show you he cares by looking nice when he goes to lay out his offer. You're past the probationary period following your transfer, and he thinks it'd be nice to sort of celebrate that. 

You're in your jumpsuit, cheerfully strutting around the hangar to complete the necessary work a little earlier than usual this morning when he first sees you. "Good morning, Captain Rex!" You're all bright-eyed and sunny smiles for so early in the day. Must be in a really good mood now that you feel the weight that comes with being fresh blood in the "office" has been lifted from your shoulders. Can breathe a little easier when there are less eyes scrutinizing your every move. "You're in a good mood today." Rex replies, careful to keep the right balance of being personable and professional within earshot of other civilian staff, as always, "Is there a special reason?" Your grin and your body language tells him everything he needs to know. 

"Oh, no reason. Reasons, on the other hand…" you suggest, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling within earshot of those same workers that you've seen him eyeing out of caution. You can afford to be a little braver now, but you should still be cautious. Rex smiles, delighted to hear and see that you're not feeling quite so anxious as you once were. You still have your nervous, self-soothing quirks like fiddling with the wrist-strap of your time device whenever you wear one, or twirling a stylus between your nimble fingers or rocking softly on the balls of your feet. Rex doesn't see you utilize them quite as often these days now that you're off probation, and it makes him feel so much better to see you more relaxed and comfortable here. 

He still asks his brothers to keep an eye on you or give you any help in his stead if he senses you becoming overly anxious about anything. Dogma still offers to take any paperwork down to General Skywalker for you (and is certain to remember to knock, now). Fives and Echo still hang out around your desk and your workspace whenever they get the chance. Tup drops by with small snacks or drinks from the mess if you can't spare a moment to get away from your work (and he'll never say no to an offer to help fix up his hair, either). Kix has been by a few times to come sit with you when the anxiety gets really bad, coaching you through your grounding exercises, or acting as a GAR medic (who has authority to treat civilian staff in non-emergency situations) he can administer something to take the edge off. And Jesse has made plausible excuses for you to your boss's face if you've needed to step away and collect yourself, if it's really severe. 

They all figure if the captain likes you, and on occasion asks them to check in with you for his "peace of mind" ("Captain Rex has a cruuuuush~" "Hardcase stop before you get yourself in troub-" "It's not just the Captain, Fives. She does too.") they shouldn't be afraid to cement their friendships with you anymore. 

“Oh, by the way, Captain,” you call over your shoulder as you walk off to where you’d been summoned, “your armor looks very nice today.” Unfortunately, you were called away to take care of something just as he plucks up his nerve to ask if you’d like to grab a cup of caf with him before the day really gears up, but he doesn’t have to wait much longer for another opportunity.

The first "date"

It comes as a rather impromptu and unofficial thing, with one of the mechanics shouting across the hangar as he wraps up his welding kit that the repairs have been finished on a LAAT that had taken a heavy beating. "Captain! Gunship's good to go!" These guys are good. You get to the gunship before Rex does, admiring the handiwork of the repairmen in awe. "Wow… almost looks brand new, doesn't it?" He agrees with a chuckle, elbow to elbow with you. "What's it like to fly in one of these?" you ask, turning to him with earnest curiosity. It surprises him. "Weren't you transferred to the base in one of these?"

You shake your head, the datapad cradled a little tighter against your chest. "No, I got here by passenger shuttle." 

Stay here, he tells you, he has an idea. He just needs to go find where Hawk is. 

Hawk takes little time to get kitted-up in order to go take the LAAT for a test flight. Rex boards the gunship first, taking hold of one of the handles overhead before offering a hand out to you to help you up. 

You regard the offered hand with mild apprehension, unclear if this is even allowed. "A-are you certain I can be up there? I'm just a civilian. I don't know that I can-" A simple smile is all he needs to calm you, quell your fraying nerves. “I’ll think of some clever excuse if anyone asks.” Rex promises you with one of his charming smiles and playful lift of his brow. He allows you to stand beside him so you feel more secure, showing you where best to grip the support handles as Hawk gears everything up. “Best hold on,” he warns you before you’d feel that lurch in your stomach as the ground falls away fast. 

He tells Hawk to take it pretty easy, just a few test laps around the base and not too fast, and Rex keeps his eye on you as Hawk climbs the gunship high enough for his liking. Any sign from you that this was getting to be too much, and he would call it off. But you’re all giddy smiles and awed murmurings as you bravely peek at the ground far below from time to time. 

“Beginning aerial test laps, Captain. I promise to go easy, ma’am!” Hawk calls back to the pair of you, beginning to maneuver and swing the gunship out to the right, making you bump hips with the Captain, unprepared to brace for the movement with your legs in addition to your upper body. You go to apologize, but he puts his hand on your opposite hip without a word (at first) to hold you a little closer to him to help you feel secure and steady. Rex apologizes to you for not warning you about the nature of the  turns. “Flown in these things more times than I can count; it’s all just second nature to me.” You suppose that makes a lot of sense, surely a little flushed in the face, being so close. On the next turn, you know to anticipate it this time, but you still lean pretty heavily against him.

What happens next however is absolutely not your fault. Hawk purposefully takes a much sharper turn as he completes one of his last laps, and with the centrifugal force you’re really pushed up against Captain Rex, practically chest to chest with him now, and then laughs apologetically from the cockpit. “Whoops, sorry sweetheart! Got a little carried away on that one. You alright?” You’re fine, you answer just loud enough for Hawk to hear, finding yourself still so close against Rex, his hand still on your hip to hold you steady. You and Rex look at each other for one long moment, almost missing what Hawk says about taking you in for a landing, feeling a little lost in the other’s eye…

Once you’re back on the ground, you thank Hawk for letting you come along on the test flight for the repaired LAAT. “Oh, you’re welcome! I hope it was nice despite that one turn. Just got a little ahead of myself and forgot you’re not used to those kinds of ships.” You promise it’s okay, and thank him again. You should probably get back to work now, you explain, a little color in your cheeks after smiling at Rex and bidding him goodbye next.

He makes no mention of the transfer-smear of lip product found on his Captain’s face, one that looks an awful lot like the color you’re wearing this morning, until he’s certain you’re out of earshot. “That’s a nice color on you, Captain.” Rex takes a moment to clean his cheek of the evidence, a gentle pout playing across his features, his broad nose creasing as he responds to Hawk’s compliment. “You swung too wide on that last turn before we landed…”

As partners 

It’s not long after that that things kick off. Secretly. There’s no official code or regulation against this (you’d know: Echo and Dogma checked for one extensively, separately and together) relationship taking place, but you’re going to keep it on the down-low for the most part. Rex has a professional image to maintain as a captain of the GAR, and you risk being transferred out should any of your higher-ups feel this partnership of sorts comes as a hindrance or serious detriment to your job as a civilian. (“Do you know how many want to be in your shoes? Do you have any idea just how sought-after this position is?” “A-A very good idea, actually. That’s why I’m here, sir. I promise, I’m not going to make any trouble.” (Oh how Fives and Jesse had wanted to give the civilian staff member you reported to a piece of their minds for talking to you like that.)) You and Rex find a way to make it work, with a little help from his brothers.

He visits you during work. Often as he can. Sometimes it's planned out in advance, where the two of you have lots of time alone. He makes sure that you're doing okay, and that you're taking care of yourself, of course, but primarily these opportunities to see you are just to spend time with you. Take his mind off of the war. Take your mind off of your job, or whatever troubles you. Sometimes it's discreet, spur of the moment little meetings in empty offices… or secluded corners his brothers have told him about. 

"There's a blind spot in the cameras around here," Hardcase explains, unprompted, one afternoon over nutrimush in the mess hall, "You can get away with a lot of stuff right there behind the shelving." He's not sure if he's about to reprimand Hardcase as his Captain or to thank him as a brother for this insight for a long moment. "What do you mean by get away with a lot of stuff, 'Case?" There's quite a few options it turns out. Stash some contraband, (re)paint your armor without being bothered too much, or just… y'know. Have a nap? (Damn, okay, aside from whatever Hardcase means by contraband that sounds like a pretty great spot.) "Maybe I'll… check it out." Rex agrees with a simple shrug. 

Oh and if he does, he has to be careful about a certain box on the shelves. Can't put empty snack wrappers back in it otherwise it'll attract ants again, Hardcase says he learned that one the hard way and it took a while to get it back under control just short of throwing away his whole collection of snacks. Two of them are welcome to just about anything they find in the box if Rex takes you there, but the energy drinks are off limits. 

"Or just leave Hardcase five credits if you do take one." Echo calls from a little further down the table, pouring over some section of the regulation manual related to your job that you were having trouble understanding. (They used a lot of unnecessary and complicated words because it was translated into Basic from another galactic language.) "Fives and I do it all the time." A few more brothers confirm that they do the same since being let in on Hardcase's little secret. Dogma insists he does not. "I don't like these crazy energy drinks they come up with. 'Trotting Tauntaun' and 'Hyperspace Rush'? Makes me feel sick to my stomach and my heart race…" (It's probably all the caffeine, Kix calls back to him from Rex's left. Dogma might have a low tolerance for it and that's why he doesn't like it.) 

This little nook within the hangar becomes the perfect place to decompress whenever Captain Rex notices you are looking more anxious than typical. One of his men has stashed away an old GAR-issue blanket that's stained with various smears of cobalt blue - 501st's Blue - but still plenty warm and comfortable to wrap up in. You can tell that it's Fives who added a little stack of flimsi scraps to write notes on the first time you come back here to this corner of the hangar with the Captain. Rex can see from a mile away that Kix is to thank for the healthier options within the box of Hardcase's snacks. 

You're both not sure who scribbled your name along with his under the list of people who were "invited" here, but it makes you cry, in a happy way. To welcome their brother here would be one thing - all Clones had come up with secret, secluded spaces for themselves to have their privacy and establish stealthy boundaries for themselves and their well-being - but they were inviting you too. None of your other colleagues know about this sequestered space. They trusted you to keep their secrets. They liked you. Really liked you. 

"To our Captain and his girl" the note begins, waiting for you both on top of the neatly folded blanket when Rex first helped you here, trying to help you settle your nerves after you were badly frightened by a speederbike backfiring outside the base as it whizzed past, "Welcome to our cozy little corner! We hope you like it here and trust that you'll keep it a better secret than General Skywalker and Senator Amidala being a "thing". Speaking of, figured it was time to let the loth-cat out of the bag now that you're both getting as serious as this war allows~. - The 501st"

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those fancy forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Part one] [Masterlist] [Reqests: OPEN]

[bucks-daddy-issues]

🫴 🫴 🫴 🫴

Hello! I got six anon asks for all of my wips and I'm gonna hope/assume they're all from you and put them all in one post.

Hope you enjoy, thank you!!!

😳 Down Bad Eddie (NSFW)

-

Buck is so keen, he’s smiling so big but there isn’t a trace of mocking in his tone. He’s happy, and he’s playful and he’s more radiant than the fucking sun. Eddie almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking directly at him, so beautiful he’ll make Eddie go blind.

Eddie feels dizzy, his chest is a little tight and he’s not sure if it’s for good or bad reasons. Buck is so pretty, so warm and Eddie's breath is-

“Can we- pause for a minute?” Eddie grits out, and immediately Buck steps back, hands dragging up slow until they’re on Eddie’s shoulders instead of his waist. 

“Of course, of course Eddie. You okay?” Buck says, eyes searching, as blue as the ocean in holiday brochures.

“I’m amazing, I just… this is a little overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming… good?” Buck asks, God he’s so earnest Eddie wants to shove him into a wall and bite. 

“Very, very good.” Eddie beams. “But this is a little new, could we…?”

“Slow down, yes, yeah, we should slow down. We got a lot to talk about.” Buck smiles back.

Then Buck is stepping away, moving to the kitchen to start up the coffee maker.

-

🔫 Hitman's Bodyguard AU

-

“I think we can-“ 

There’s a noise, Buck knows there must have been because his ears are ringing. There’s a noise. His face is wet. There’s blood in his mouth. Eddie is looking at him, reaching out but the whole world is encased in freezing cold, solid ice and Buck must need it to melt before he can move again. 

A red spot slowly blooms and grows on Eddie’s shoulder, red, red, red. Eddie’s hand is reaching, his eyes pleading. 

Buck can’t move. 

The moment Eddie drops to the ground Buck can move again, and he realises that that eternity watching the pain cloud out the life in Eddie’s eyes must have only been a second because he jumps for cover a moment before another bullet hits the wall he’d been leaning against. 

Eddie’s still out in the open, but whoever’s shooting doesn’t seem too concerned about finishing him off - thank god - whoever it is, they're going for Buck, they just needed Eddie out of the way. 

A bullet hits their car. Buck’s heart is beating in his skull. His throat feels like it's shut tight but somehow he’s still panting. 

Another bullet. This one nicks the gas tank, oil leaks out into the road.

Buck has seconds. One good shot and the car blows, one decent one and a fire will start. 

Behind them is a 30-foot drop into a roaring water. Buck has no idea how deep, but he knows jumping will mean either breaking his legs or going under. 

For the first time in his life, he’s praying he’ll feel water above his head. 

-

👻 Ghost hunter AU

-

“You want us to what?” Buck flinches.

“It’s just for one night Buck, it’ll be fine.” Hen says, and this time Eddie is the one who flinches, he already knows what Buck’s reaction will be.

“It’s just one night in a haunted building, Hen!” Buck yells, eyes wide in fear. “If you’re so sure no one will won’t get murdered or possessed or like- scared to death, then you do it!”

Hen smirks, “Sorry Buckaroo, I’m not the one with their face on all the merch, looks like it’s just you and Eddie braving the demons and ghosts.”

“There’s no demons!” Eddie steps in, glaring at Hen and Chimney’s smug grins. “The building has one single ghost sighting, one ghost, no demons, no poltergeists and no malicious spirits, just one friendly ghost.”

“You don’t even believe in ghosts.” Chimney remarks,

“One ghost that we know of, Eds.” Buck mumbles “What if there’s something else in there. Something hiding until it’s got us at our most vulnerable.

Buck makes himself shiver, Eddie scoots closer to drop a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to scope it out first, we’ll try everything we have to catch any paranormal activity and if you don’t want to stay after that-” Eddie sends Bobby a look, there’s no question in it, but Bobby nods anyway, “-then we wont stay, okay?”

Buck leans further into Eddie’s space, his eyes are big and scared but keeps looking at Eddie anyway, seeking comfort. “Okay” he finally agrees. “But you’re sleeping closest to the door.”

-

💍 Romcom AU

-

Buck finds Eddie by the fountain, clicking through pictures on his camera. 

“You okay?” Buck asks, sitting down next to him.

Eddie flicks his head up in surprise, somehow he must have missed Buck’s arrival. “Oh yeah.” He mumbles, looking back at his camera. On it there’s a photo of Maddie, Chimney and Jee-Yun with big, cheesy grins, it looks amazing, one to be framed. Buck can’t wait to see all the rest. “Don't let me keep you from the party, I promise I’ll be back to take more photos soon, just needed a little break.”

“Of course, take your time. I’m gonna take a break too, if that’s okay.” Buck smiles, he glances down at the rippling water in the fountain. There are no coins in it, but Buck still wants to throw one in and make a wish.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, nudging Buck with his knee.

“I asked you first,” Buck replies, nudging back.

Eddie harrumphs but after a moment he drops his shoulders and speaks “I miss my wife. Or I guess I miss this.” He gestures to the happy photo on his camera screen. “Though I’m not sure we ever had all that, can you miss something you’ve never had?”

Buck stares for a minute, maybe a little too long. “Oh yeah. All the time.” 

“You too?” Eddie asks, his smile pained.

“Well I don’t have a wife to miss, but yes, I miss what Maddie and Chimney have. I’ve never told anyone and I feel awful about it, but I’m super jealous of them.”

“Me too. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, just-“ Eddie puts the camera down, leaning forward to stare into the water. “It’s hard sometimes, to be stuck with just hope.”

Buck reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet. He finds a few coins in the bottom and hands one to Eddie. “I don’t think wishing is much better than hoping, but hey, maybe they accumulate.”

-

🥂 Hangover AU

-

“Coffee?” Bobby asks, holding out the menu. 

“Strong enough to chew please” Eddie groans, flattening his head on the cool metal of the poolside tables. It's way too warm. 

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Hen grimaces “Never say that again.” 

“Get her coffee too.” Chimney adds as Bobby gets the waiter's attention. 

“What’s the last thing anyone remembers?” Buck asks. 

“I left you guys after dinner, you were all pretty sober, maybe two or three drinks each,” Bobby says once he’s ordered Hen and Eddie espresso, Bucks stomach feels queasy at the thought of drinking that.

“Okay, I can remember dinner, then we went to that club Albert booked, it was named after some jewel, aquamarine or something?”

“The amethyst and it was a casino too.” Chimney supplies, sighing heavily. 

“I hate Vegas.” Eddie groans “We should check our bank accounts.”

“Oh, That’s a good idea! We can look at all the transactions from last night and see where we went!” Buck says just a little too loud for even his own ears, he gulps the water sitting in front of him, thank you, Bobby. 

“Right, empty your pockets too, we’re all still wearing our clothes from last night, right?” Chim adds, patting his blazer

Buck and Eddie reply in the affirmative, feeling grubby. 

“Hell no, the first thing I did was change my clothes” Hen grimaces. 

“You guys should really change,” Bobby adds, but he at least looks invested in helping, Buck can tell he’s in captain mode just by his facial expression.

“Well some of us weren’t given the chance” Eddie replies pointedly.

“Later!” Chim says “C’mon, does anyone have anything?” 

Buck searches through his pockets surveying the contents as they’re placed on the table, his phone - dead, a McDonald’s receipt, keys, wallet, Albert’s phone, a business card… 

Wait 

“Oh fuck!” Buck shouts, lifting the phone back up, “This is Al’s” 

Chimney snatches it from him “Why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“I don’t know!” 

“Why do you have a business card for a tattoo parlour a couple blocks from here?” Eddie asks, lifting the card. Buck glances at it, vaguely remembering talking to a tattoo artist as she- 

“Ah, that’s why my hip is sore.” 

-

🫴 Your Touch Is All I Need (NSFW)

-

The next day at work that tenseness comes back to haunt him. 

He should have found some time to jerk off quickly, he probably could have in the shower if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his own failure and embarrassment, but he didn’t and now the entire 24-hour shift is going about as smooth as a hacksaw.

He’s on edge and Buck must be able to tell because he’s trailing behind Eddie like a lost puppy and it’s making Eddie feel even worse. He knows Buck thinks he did something wrong, and he’s so ashamed he’s hurting Buck, but he can’t seem to look the other man in the eye. He can barely handle when they’re on the way to a call and Buck’s thigh is pressed up hard against his own. It’s Buck’s way of giving him some silent reassurance, so he nudges back and tries to train his eyes away from where that line of heat is pressing up against him. Buck’s thick thighs have been in enough of his dreams without more fodder. 

When they arrive on the scene Eddie could laugh - he won’t because that would be so rude and completely misinterpreted - but when he finds out a woman has had an unfortunate sexual incident while using a toy, somehow kicking her boyfriend in the face and causing a broken nose, well, Eddie laughs internally about how maybe the universe does scream sometimes.

Hen is helping the woman, while Eddie is looking over the man, the bleeding is nearly stopped and he should be fine once he gets to hospital, but Eddie pays him as much attention as he can so he doesn’t have to think about the vibrator sitting on the floor near his knee. 

When they finally get them sorted, the man on his way to the hospital with his girlfriend holding his hand, the team huddle back into the fire engine, and Eddie is sure they’re all thinking the same thing.

“Well… She must have been having a good time” Chim says, and that’s all it takes for them all to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Come on guys, a little more professional” Bobby says, but he’s grinning too, his face bright pink.

“Hey, I’ve been there!” Buck laughs “I think I broke the poor guy's ribs but I like to think it was worth it.” Everyone laughs again.

Wait. What the fuck.

No one is batting an eye. Buck just admitted to using a toy on himself with another man, and no one is batting an eye. 

Did they all know? Was Eddie meant to know? How did he somehow miss this? Is…is Buck gay or bi or pan or something along those lines?

Has he been openly into men this whole time?

[venbetta]

This is Tumblr, we're all wild animals with zoomies. Please share your thoughts.

You right... you're so right

Time to vomit all of my thoughts then-

I’m gonna have to be so sparring with the pictures due to the 10 image limit *sob* whatever i'll figure it out,,

Also I'm gonna say this- Freddy isn't possessed by Michael Afton in this. I don't mind Glammike, but I love the idea of Freddy just becoming a “deviant” I guess. Robots becoming human. They should totally make a game or something… wink wink.

I'm gonna just dig into the lyrics and breakdown my thought process for some of the frames… (I'm not doing every lyric, only some that stood out)

So, the meaning of “My Way” is based around self determination, that's the basic gist. I personally interpreted it as individualism, seeing how the lyrics have certain phrases based around it.

I had heard this song at the beginning of this year and immediately thought of Freddy. I also remember hearing the ai cover version at one point… (moving on)

And it was pretty obvious that most people agreed that this was his song.

Let's break it down >:]

And now, the end is near

And so I face the final curtain

I started the scene with Freddy walking on the third floor atrium, and I guess I took “I face the final curtain” literally since he's looking at the main stage lmao

My friend, I'll say it clear

Small side note, it's literally the most miniscule detail, but I felt like he was referring to Bonnie when he said “my friend” … It doesn't help that he's on the same floor as Bonnie Bowl.

I've lived a life that's full

Freddy reflecting about his “life” performing alongside his friends, I specifically added Chica because she's one of the remaining members of the original trio. :)

Regrets I've had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do

And saw it through without exemption

This verse was the best way to describe Freddy's situation. He had to not only escort this kid around the pizzaplex but he had to make sure Gregory wouldn't get hurt. He didn't want to hurt his friends but he couldn't let them hurt Gregory either. While it's shown that the other glamrocks were shattered, him saying he has regrets, I thought about whether or not he did the shattering himself or it was Gregory.

I mean, canonically, it was all Gregory's doing, Freddy was an accomplice… (sort of), but in the back of my mind, a messed up part of me wanted it to be Freddy's doing. Especially when we get to the confrontation scene. Honestly it can be interpreted both ways. I've read a fic where Freddy killed his friends… very gruesome but badass.

Anyways have a Freddy ear wiggle... cutest fucking thing ever.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew

When I bit off more than I could chew

But through it all, when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out

I faced it all, and I stood tall

And did it my way

Another one of those verses where I went fucking crazy and said “THAT'S HIM.”

So as it's seen in the animatic, Freddy is trying to keep Gregory safe. Gregory was originally going to be in his stomach hatch during this fight scene, but as I mentioned, Freddy wouldn't have wanted him to be in serious danger, so.. I changed it to him carrying Gregory.

“I'm sure you knew when I bit off more than I could chew” refers to Gregory being aware of how much he was in danger, and Freddy deciding to bite the bullet towards confronting his friends. Even if it meant someone was going to get hurt.

“When there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out.” God, I loved drawing Freddy clenching his fists. The hesitancy before just accepting that he has to protect Gregory at all costs. Maybe I took some of the lyrics and made them slightly literal? Idk. Either way, this scene was powerful, especially when he and Monty clashed together.

“I stood tall” to me shows how Freddy was no longer going to let his soft persona get in the way. This part was just very fun to draw and put together… :3

I've loved, I've laughed and cried

I've had my fill, my share of losing

And now, as tears subside

I find it all so amusing

Once again Freddy is thinking about his friends and life, I found this part kind of hard? Originally I wanted him to be surrounded by his friends, and have it fade to just him standing alone, but I didn't like how it was drawn lol. I improvised and had it be a poster instead.

Also there's something heartbreaking about how he examines his plushie. “I find it all so amusing”, I interpreted that as him being melancholic about the situation, looking between the plushie and Gregory by the exit.

To think I did all that

And may I say, not in a shy way

Ah yes, Freddy setting the plushie on fire. I like to think he makes up his mind at that moment that none of this was worth it anymore. Once again, that interpretation of him being complacent to his friends being shattered kinda fits into this line a little, “I did all that”, as if he's surprised he had it in him to go that far to protect Gregory.

I did it my way

…self explanatory. Freddy said, “Yeah nah I'm done. Burn this bitch to the ground.”

I mean, that's basically the fire escape ending if I'm being honest. Mine's just funnier.

For what is a man, what has he got?

If not himself, then he has naught

To say the things he truly feels

And not the words of one who kneels

The record shows I took the blows

And did it my way

The final stretch. So this verse is pretty heavy, also I had to pace this correctly… I'm surprised I managed to fit the climax in.

“For what is a man” when I heard that line for the first time… fire no pun intended. It's also kinda ironic(?) Freddy says this, since he's an animatronic… but me personally, I saw it as an epiphany for him. He's acknowledging his own individualism, and that's all he has now. He made the decision to protect Gregory, to fight his friends, and now he's making the choice to burn everything down.

“To say the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who kneels” Good shit. He's not taking orders from anyone anymore, he's gone full deviant now.

And with the confrontation with Vanny, he makes the impulsive decision to take her out, going down with her. “I did it my way” the grand climax of the song, where he throws both of them off the building… lowkey my favorite part. I had fun using the tracking tool on the editing program to make them pan across the screen in slow mo…

But yeah, Freddy was gonna go down his own way- even if it was unnecessary.

Yes it was my way

The fall and the brief daze and fear in his eyes…

There's something about the acceptance in his eyes that makes my chest swell.

I'm surprised I haven't cried to this animatic yet.

I'm sure I'm not the only person who doesn't like this ending of SB… it's so weird and confusing. I laughed my ass off watching it due to how whacky it was… also I still believe that Vanessa on the roof was an apparition/ghost. Idk… it makes sense to me.

The fact that I made this ending have more impact makes it more satisfying. I know it was very indulgent but like… that was the point. I know Freddy's characterization in the game is pretty limited, outside of him being a goofball, but he had genuine moments where there was something else there (I'm looking at the true ending scene).

Listen, I headcanon Freddy as someone who's sweet and puts on his best face but has the entire company of FazEnt on his shoulders and all he can do is tolerate it because he was made to entertain. Having him not only have an existential crisis but an epiphany lets Freddy shine a little more.

I say the best part during the animatic process is looking at the lyrics and breaking them down for the story. It helps with pacing :)

I plan to do another fnaf animatic this weekend, so look forward to some wips… if I decide/remember to share

Feel free to ask me anything, I'll try to answer them!

:)

[bluegalaxygirl]

Full Moon (Zosan X reader) P3

Plot: While out taking photo's Sanji and reader get attacked by a strange creature. While the crew decide to hunt it down to save the village Sanji starts acting strange.

Warning: Violence, blood, bad language, Spooky stuff.

Sanji X Zoro X Reader, poly relationship, established relationship, Reader is GN. Reader is the photographer of the crew always carrying around a camera they made (Polaroid) that doesn't include a snail.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5

Gathered in the kitchen Robin relayed what she had found out. There's a cabin on the other side of the island that belonged to an old man. He keeps to himself and performs strange rituals, at first the villagers thought he was a witch but on full moons a strange creature would show up and kill live stock or even people. The one person who survived an attack started to act strange and on a full moon turned and killed their family before the villagers managed to kill it using fire and sliver bullets. Since then the Villagers have been trying to kill the man, but he either can't be found or he'll kill you before you kill him. Years ago they gave up and stayed away form the man making sure that on a full moon no one goes outside and traps are set out. "So it's a werewolf?" Nami asks once Robin has finished "Yes, that's why Sanji was acting so strange. a werewolf bite can turn someone into one. Its said a werewolf can hear blood pumping thru someones veins and smell blood from miles away." you ponder for a minute before looking up at Robin "How do we turn Sanji back?" your determined and focused face showed you weren't messing around, you wanted your cook back. Robin signs looking down at her lap "There are so many conflicting stories i don't know what the right answer is. some say there is a cure using wolfsbane, other say you have to kill the werewolf that originally bit the person and then there are some that say..." she stops herself not wanting to continue, the thought of losing Sanji hurt her.

Standing catching everyone attention Luffy looks at Chopper with a smile "If anyone can fix Sanji its you, right Chopper?" he asks as the reindeer stands on his chair and nods "yes, we found wolfsbane in the forest so i can use that, Robin i'm going to need your help" with a small giggle Robin nods "Me, Zoro and Franky can deal with that werewolf" Luffy tilts his hat looking to his swords man and cyborg who both stand and nod "What about us?" you ask not wanting to be left out. With a laugh your Captain looks down at you "Protect the villagers." It seemed like a simple job but you were up to the task, plus if Sanji shows up maybe you can trap him and keep him safe. With everyone agreed you set off leaving the ship in Robin's and Choppers hands. Zoro turns to you before everyone splits up and places his forehead against yours "Don't get lost" you giggle trying to lighten the mood, he can't help but let out a huff at your words but his small smile gives away that he's not mad "Don't get distracted" he comments leaning down and placing his lips on yours. With a short kiss and a loving glance you both head off in your own directions.

You, Nami, Usopp and Brook head into the town center Usopp runs up next to you and holds out your camera bag "Here, i fixed it for you" looking down you see the dent in the camera gone and the chipped lens fixed "Oh my god, thank you" you smile hugging the sniper, pulling away to put the bag around you. Usopp rubs the back of his head and walks with you "It's no problem" he laughs but yelling catches the group's attention, people shouting and the voices get more clear the closer you get to the town center. A mob of Men are gathered around lanterns in their hands and armed with shot guns and pitch forks that seem to be tipped with silver. "What are you doing?" Nami yelled out catching their attention "You should all be inside, theirs a dangerous creature around" Nami continues but men only glare at the four of you before pointing their weapons at you "It's all your fault, you let another creature lose. We can't deal with the original, but we can at least kill the new one" The leader yelled as the four of you got closer "No one is killing it. Go back inside" Your voice full of anger yelling at the men. "I'd listen to them if i were you" Brook tilted his head trying to be scary but it didn't seem to affect them "We already have men out there hunting it down. We're here to protect the village now get lost" The leader stepped foreword almost getting in your face. The guns they have are custom and you assume they must be loaded with silver bullets, Your heart raced fearing the worst, these men could kill Sanji and you weren't going to let them.

"Out of my way" you glared at the man who laughed a little before your fist tightened and connected with his face, catching the man off guard he fell to the floor while the others got ready for a fight. "Y/N" Usopp groaned annoyed that you got them into a fight with the villagers you were supposed to protect. Nami hit some of their guns away with her staff while the others tried restraining the men but you ran off to the woods grabbing the leaders lantern before you do "Wait, were are you going?" Nami yells wanting to run after you but gets blocked by some of the mob "To find Sanji before they do" you yell back sprinting as fast as you could until you make it to the woods. It was dark but with the help of the lantern you made your way around keeping your eye out for traps. Now and again you would hear voices but it sounded like the men in the woods haven't seen anything so you tried to keep your distance focused on finding Sanji not starting another fight. You spotted a few traps on your way around, half hidden bear traps and snares that would wrap around a leg and drag you up into a tree, they weren't covered well, so they were easy to spot.

A few minutes of walking later you started hearing yelling and growling. Still trying to watch where you were going you ran holding the lantern in front of you as the sounds grew louder. Men yelling that they found it, some even laughing as you rounded the corner to see three men, two with pitch forks and one with a gun, their backs to you as they look down at the werewolf on the floor growling and snapping at them, its leg in a bear trap and the chain attached to a thick tree. "Should we call this in or just take care of it?" one guy asks moving his lantern up unknowingly giving you a better look at the wolf, its snout was longer than before and more hair seemed to be growing out of it making it look a little more wolf like than human but the hair was blonde, it was Sanji. Before the other man could answer you ran, rounding a kick into the side of the man's face, you went for the man with the gun first, picking it up as another guy ran at you with his pitch fork. You didn't have time to pull the trigger so you used the gun to block and deflect the pitch fork into the ground before using the butt of the gun to hit the man in the face. Jumping back the third man ran at you missing you and barely missing his mate, rounding another kick your foot connects with the mans side sending him into his mate who tried to get up form your gun punch.

With all the men passed out you throw the gun to the side and walk up to the still snarling and snapping wolf. "Sanji... is that anyway to thank me" you smile down at him with kind eyes while he attempts to stand and get to you but he falls back down the trap around his leg not letting go. Sitting on your knees you watch as he pants glaring at you but starts to quirt down "It's ok. i'm not going to hurt you" you keep your voice soft slowly reaching your hand out to him. Sanji growls but doesn't try to bite you as your hand gets closer soon running over his short almost snout your eyes locking on each other as you let your thumb rub over his cheek, the hair feeling more like fur. His eyes soften seeming to recognized you "It's me.. Y/n.. i'm here now" you sooth scooting a little closer as he tried to sniff you, your other hand moves up to run over the other side of his face, he tried to get closer but whimpers at the pain the trap is causing. "I'm gonna take this off, ok?" you say gaining his attention as you slowly move around him bending down to the trap. He watches your every move as you grab a large branch and pry the trap open. Pulling his leg out he looks you over, both waiting for the other one to do something. You weren't sure if he was going to run off or not. Sanji makes the first move on all fours walking over to you and sniffing your bandaged arm before licking it.

Reaching a hand up to his head about to run a hand thru his fur he pulls away still unsure of you but you know he's just scared and probably has no idea what's going on. Standing up, Sanji follows towering over you lifting his injured leg up slightly. You have to stretch your head far back to look at his face as he looks down at you and then his head snap to look into the woods. Male voices come form the forest causing Sanji to growl but you take his over sized hand making him look down at you "We need to go" you whisper watching him get down on all fours and start walking with a slight limp, the opposite way of the voices. Letting go of his hand you grab the lantern and follow Sanji starting to jog just to keep up with the wolves long strides. Trying to avoid people you both make your way through the forest going in the general direction of the town watching out for traps on the way but you weren't sure if you two should go there with the villagers wanting your boyfriend dead. Looking down at your werewolf, you notice the fur on his back is patchy, it seems where the hot water hit caused the hair to burn away leaving only tough skin and the bite on his shoulder was gone. He started to limp less and less as you walked with him, noticing the wound on his leg healing up. Looking over him you notice quite a few details about him that the other wolf didn't have, the villagers did try and kill the old wolf so maybe the damage they did made him look less wolf. You stop when Sanji starts growling looking into the darkness, walking backwards he pushes you back until your pressed up against a tree, arching his back his eyes never leaving the forest. You look around trying to see what he sees but can't, there's nothing out there and no voices but you can't shake the feeling your being watched. Sanji's growls get deeper and the fur on his arms and legs stands up making you realize your both in danger.

Zoro, Luffy and Franky have been walking for a while through the forest, they had a general idea of where the old man's cabin was so headed in that direction, Franky having to keep a close eye on Zoro, so he didn't wonder off or go the wrong way. "Hay there it is" Luffy yells running up the cabin with Zoro and Franky following, The cabin wasn't too big but looked well maintained, A one floor cabin with stone steps leading to the front door. The wooden cabin had a few windows that showed no light but the door to the cabin was left wide open. The tree's around the cabin were cut in a perfect circle and the grass was greener than the grass inside the forest. Zoro could sense something was off, it felt heavy in this area. Since the door to the cabin is open Luffy walked right in seeing a open kitchen, living room and two doors. There were lots of tables and shelves filled with books, knives, jars and herbs. It looked like a witch's lair but more messy. Some of the couch was clawed apart and one of the rugs was rolled up slightly to ravel a hidden door. "Oh man, what is that smell?" Franky covers his nose looking around the cabin. Zoro sniffed the air knowing that smell well "Its blood, old blood" he sates stepping further in watching his captain look around going thru the messy shelves "I don't think it's here." Franky sighs hoping to leave this nasty place as soon as possible. Before the captain or swords man can answer a thump comes form under the floor boards "You were saying?" Zoro raises an eyebrow at the Cyborg.

Luffy walks over to the rug and throws it to the side before unlocking the door "Lets see inside" he smiles as Zoro gets two of his swords out and Franky gets his arm gun ready. Opening the door there's nothing but a long stone stair case and pitch blackness. "Hay, how about some light?" Zoro asks turning to Franky who nods and opens his shirt to revealing his nipple lights, as the light pores into the basement all three look down to find a stone basement, different to the wooden cabin it was very clean and tidy although there were spots of old dried blood on the wall and floor. Luffy bounces up and heads down the stairs followed closely by Franky and Zoro. Getting further down their greeted by hooks hanging form the ceiling stained with dried blood and a strange symbol on the floor. a large circle with a square and Triangle attached in the middle painted white on the floor. "Maybe the villagers were right, this guy was a witch" Zoro sighs before wondering around finding a book on the floor. Picking it up the title reads evolution of mankind. "I think you were right Franky" Luffy groans turning to leave "It's not hear" heading back up the stairs Zoro follows handing the book to Franky knowing he won't remember to give it to Robin when they get back. The Cyborg gladly takes it and follows the two turning his lights off.

A loud howl and male screams fills the air as they exit the cabin, Luffy smiles wide before heading towards the noise closely followed by Zoro and Franky getting their weapons ready for a good fight. They have all been wanting this all night, a good fight and to get their friend back. Zoro couldn't wait to teach this thing a lesson for messing with his two lovers, he was thinking about all the ways he was going to make the werewolf pay "Guys remember if it has Blonde hair don't hurt it" Their captain yells not wanting to hurt his cook if it turned out it was Sanji. The other two nod in confirmation running over roots and brushes looking out for traps as they get closer to the sound of the scream. The forest became silent quickly and by the time the three got there only three man lay on the floor, clearly dead form a wolf attack "What are they doing out here?" Zoro asks looking over the men, two had guns and one had a pitch fork, picking up the farm equipment Zoro noticed the ends were coated in silver showing it to franky who glared at it "Their going after Sanji" Franky's eyes widen as Zoro scowls gaining the captain attention who looked at the two with slight shock before anger took him over. Tilting his hat down covering his angry eyes Luffy breathed before turning away form them "We're going to kill that werewolf and get our friend back".

[bi-bats]

🤓 u know why im here haha. 14, 17, 19, 27, 29 please 💕

Bean, hello!!!! Enjoy this food while you get your food lol 💖

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Okay. I know I've shit all over Rooftops & Bookshops, but I was able to picture so many of the scenes in that fic SO vividly and clearly, I think I would have to pick that for a film. Specifically, I'm thinking of the scene in the breakroom. That would just be SO funny. And also some of the writing things that bother me now wouldn't be an issue on screen lol

OR I would say You Hear His Voice Once and You Know It Again as a comic. There are so many parts that I think would make really amazing panels rhgruaghr if anyone wants to make fanart for it they are more than welcome to!!!

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Ballroom dancing, which is funny because I actually barely used the research lmao it was for Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

oh boy uhhh okay here's a teaser from the jaytimkon piece!

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Kon explains, because he knows it’s true. “Are you upset?” Jason asks it like he knows the answer, which of course he does. He’s a bat.  “I guess.” “Did he say something that made you upset?”  “Yes, but—” “—Just because he wasn’t trying to hurt you doesn’t that mean he didn’t.” Kon looks up as Jason takes a bite of his bun, then breathes out a little through his teeth like it was still too hot.  “That doesn’t mean he should be shot?” Kon says hesitantly.  “Step two is empty threats, sweetheart. If I wanted to shoot him, I wouldn’t have to steal bullets from B.”  Kon’s cheeks burn.  Sweetheart. He’s heard Jason use endearments for Tim before, Darlin’ and Baby and Gorgeous and Pretty Boy, and seriously how did Tim think Kon didn’t know they were fucking—but he’s never heard sweetheart come out of Jason’s mouth. His stomach is fluttering, warmth radiating through him, and he wants to giggle in a totally manly and not at all school-girly way, wants to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear and— “Don’t shoot him,” Kon says, a smile creeping out for the first time since this morning. Jason grins back, and his smile is fucking gorgeous.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

Answered that one here!! Sorry 💖

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

alright FINE you can have a snippet from that Know Yourself scene where they were going to bake cookies for Barbara that I had to cut because it was too early to involve her and they weren't getting along this well yet

Tim shifted the groceries in his arms while they waited outside Barbara’s door, eyes flashing over as Jason reached up and tugged the helmet off. Tim forced his eyes back to the door.  “You have flour in your hair.”  “Hm?” Jason asked, tucking the helmet under his arm.  “From the helmet.”  Jason peeked inside the helmet, finding a small streak of flour across the inside. He made an irritated tut, trying to arrange his bag and the helmet so he could get a free hand. Tim sighed and turned to him, shifting the bag in his arms again. He reached up to do it himself, then stopped when Jason pulled back a little, eyes wide with surprise. Tim’s hand hovered in the air, and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for permission.  Jason sighed, then leaned back in.  “Go ahead.”  Tim finished reaching for the streak of white that didn’t belong. He ran his fingers through it, shaking them slightly so that the flour would come out.  Jason’s hair was softer than he thought it would be. Even though they were both still wearing their dominos, Tim could feel Jason’s eyes on him. He looked back, his hand slowing down. “Thanks,” Jason said, his voice was low and rough as it broke the silence, making something warm flare up in Tim’s gut.

thank you for the ask bestie!!! 💖💖💖💖

[invisiblegarters]

23.5 Episode 5

Kids suck. Aylin is awesome. And the fact that she's slowly getting a group of sincerely lovely people around her who like her just as she is makes me very happy.

I totally think that Sun should ask "Earth" for a photo. Not just because I want to watch Onsga lose her damn mind about it.

I do wonder if they really will force this Earth thing out in the open this early. I can't decide if I'd like them to or not. On the one hand I'm still finding the shenanigans funny. But on the other I don't want it to be dragged on too long and I'd like the to have more than a couple of scenes with the two of them on the same page.

Tin out here speaking sense.

Ooh a little politics with my fluff. Just a teeny tiny bit. As a treat. But beyond that, Aylin cutting through bullshit is part of why I love her.

Ugh these people are so RUDE. What did Aylin ever do to any of them?

PREACH Luna. I love how protective she is. Honestly though Aylin is just lucky Alpha wasn't there.

And okay, Aylin clearly does care that the others are mean to her. She is who she is regardless and she's smart enough not to try to be anything else, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"Can aliens fall in love like humans do?"

YES. I think Luna's counting on it, lol.

I do not think that she's gonna tell Sun what's up. Calling it now.

LOL of course they get interrupted. But Ongsa, for real. Look at that little earnest face. You're gonna have to tell her eventually.

Although I guess she doesn't have to. She could always just let Earth ghost Sun.

Okay the awkward faces from everyone who knows when Sun says she's gonna give Earth one more chance were funny.

Called it. But also her logic is stupid. Either way Sun's birthday is ruined. Either she finds out that Earth isn't real or she thinks that he stood her up. Just freaking do the thing Ongsa.

The park she's at really is pretty.

You know, maybe I'm so exasperated because I would just bite the bullet.

Well now that Ongsa skipped her chance to tell Sun what was up, she's inevitably going to give the game away in some other fashion. Because it's not like Ongsa was anything but herself as Earth.

...ONGSA NO. I was JUST defending you. Sort of.

Ugh no. I super get she thinks she's helping but ugh all the same.

I do kind of like the Batman/Bruce Wayne thing Ongsa's got going on, though. That's always a good time.

Oh good though looks like next week might do it. I mean, I don't trust this show not to screw us again, but I will happily take an episode 6 reveal.

It would be a misstep to drag it out too long.

Also there better be sleepover shenanigans with Aylin and Luna next ep. I demand it.

[mystiika]

@freezegirl — continued from here.

"want some company?" from warren

in retrospect, thinking that this particular bout of power placement would be like the one they went through in high school had been a mistake. of course they'd spar. of course he'd make them do that. "sterling!" magenta's frantic cry echoes through the gym. between one heartbeat and the next, a chacoan cavy with a purple streak in its fur zips towards the makeshift ring. magenta shifts back, slips into the ring and kneels next to the boy with six arms. her cousin. patti ti's son. "i can't feel my hands!" he's sobbing. "maj, i can't feel my fucking hands!" "hothead!" coach boomer all but snarls. "see to it the kid actually keeps his hands while i get doctor nayar here." and by 'getting her here' he means bellowing her name throughout the entire school until she comes running. and that's when khione runs. she can't be here when farzana gets in. she can't bear to see the look of profound disappointment on her face.

i can't feel my hands, maj, i can't feel my fucking hands! my eyes! that little bitch fucked up my eyes! your mother's pregnancy was arduous, you siphoned her body heat for months; she could have died. you could have killed her. you almost did. i'm freaking freezing, kie, this doesn't feel good anymore. the abandoned classroom at the end of the hallway looks like a miniature ice palace; icicles drip from the ceiling and several ice spikes are popping up all over the place. "want some company?" warren's voice is like a life raft that keeps her from drowning. yes. instead, she shakes her head and steps back, creates as much space between them as she can because she doesn't want to hurt him. her features have frozen over yet the look in her eyes says it all: don't touch me, i don't deserve it. "does---" it's really hard to get the words out. "---does sterling still have his hands? all... all six of them?"

it made him nervous, an uncharacteristic feeling of unease. he knew how khione felt about touching people, the stress knowing how she drew warmth whether she consented or not, & warren himself had tried to insist to boomer to either have her spar with him or excuse her from it entirely. he was dismissed. & now that their classmate was writhing on the ground, boomer somehow felt it was her fault — that she should have better control over herself.

by the time boomer was delegating him, warren was already pushing past the growing crowd. he's almost stuck in his efforts to find the most efficient way to warm him when he has 6 arms to warren's 2. but he does his best, starting with the lowest warmth he can muster knowing heating the guy up could end up causing even more damage. as inwardly sympathetic warren was, he blocked out the screaming demanding he go faster. hell once an arm regained enough strength to move, he took a rather pathetic swing at warren leaving his only option to yell at him to ❛ shut the fuck up or i'll burn your arms & fuck you up for good. ❜ growled in anger, everyone fell silent, sterling included thankfully. slowly he regained dexterity, & despite warren's growing desire to abandon ship in favour of chasing khione down. dr nayar couldn't come fast enough, but the moment she did warren was gone.

tearing through the halls warren made a beeline to the classroom he could only assume she'd run to. he could feel he was right the closer he got, the cold seeping outward from the room until he opened the door, greeted by the sight of kie through the look of his breath in the cool air. not that he could blame her, he'd burned his fair share of people before he'd mastered his powers. it wasn't quite the same as the struggle he saw her going through but at least some smart part of him could guess, could empathise.  

he's not sure what he can say. everything felt so awkward no matter what so he figured he might as well bite the proverbial bullet. ❝ want some company? ❞ the shake of her head, the fear driven steps away from him, it made him pause too. he didn't want to make things worse, but he didn't want to leave her alone either. comforting people wasn't anything he had much experience in, but he was willing to try. 

❝ yeah... he'll be alright. ❞ warren had questions about dexterity but he'd left before there could be even a guess at an answer & figured it would do no good to bring it up now. ❝ dr nayan's with him now. ❞ he decides to take a tentative step towards her in the hopes she'd allow him to get closer. 

he steps closer again. eventually reaching out to pet her head, he smooths her hair in an attempt to be of some comfort. ❝ it's gonna be okay... really. ❞

[seongwin]

Hj fic idea -7:00 am

(To preface this was written in complete delirium while I had a migraine (that lasted the whole 16 hours btw 😘❤️😍)and hadn't sleep in 16 hours 😍)

Friends/roommates to lovers

One bed troupe ish?

One bed troupe adjacent

Crush on ur long time best friend/roommate Hongjoong??? What! no way!...Right??!?

Then why stay up with him, from the comfort of ur own room ofc. No need to stress him out more with him worrying over ur lack of sleep! like he could talk.. anyways ur just being a good friend ofc! Hahahaha! Yes. this is coping for the crippling fondness u have found for your sleep deprived composer. But oh dear lack of sleep plus the extra exhaustion from ur long week has knocked you out cold. So what a surprise it is when said eternally sleepy roommate curls up next to you. In your bed. IN YOUR BED?? What the hell is he doing here??? It's not like he could have mistaken your rooms. COULD HE?? I mean yours is at the end of the hall. Significantly further than his or hell even the couch. So could you really pass it off as simply being to delirious to tell what comfy surface he chose to crash on?? If that didn't seal the deal than the way his arm comfortably found its way around ur waist surely made it clear. Or maybe the way he quietly mumbled for you to go back to sleep made it seem all the more like a conscious semiconscious decision. Either way he seemed peaceful so you might as well leave him be. He looks kinda cute like this anyways, hair strewn about and the way his cheek squishes against the pillow makes u want to pinch it. You cant remember the last time you got to see him so up close. You could count his lashes if you wanted to. And some part of you did. But you decided to continue to look at him. You felt like you were looking at him for the first time. Like suddenly you were 14 again. Back to when u were Fresh faced and ready to face the world. If you could go back in time, would u save urself from the one sided love you were about to crash into. Literally too. That's how you met. Crashed into him books and papers flying everywhere. Honestly it was like a scene straight out of movie. Quick sorrys and laughes were exchanged while you both scurried to pick up the scattered belongings. And somehow that turned into decade long friendship and currently a 3 year long (and standing) roomie agreement. And ofc ur current predicament. If it was even possible Hongjoong seemed to cuddle even closer to you. His face no longer in view but buried in the crook of ur neck. His legs caged you in so even if u tired, you really couldn't wiggle your way out. You let out small sigh of defeat and decided to try your best to fall asleep. Hopefully he'll wake up before you and slink away and not mention it in the morning. That is if you survived till morning. sleep seemed to become increasingly difficult with the way his breath tickled your neck. You tired ur best to shift away from him but he would simply hug you closer. Perhaps this was the tourture you deserved after years of pining after the man. You'd be lying if you said some part of you didn't enjoy this. It wouldn't even be a good lie. A stranger could tell you loved him from the way you called his name. So why doesn't he know? Maybe he does and he doesn't care? Or maybe he doesn't wanna ruin ur friendship make things awkward. Or maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he's totally oblivious. But that's unlikely. Right? You're not sure which you'd prefer. Two sides of the same sword one could say. Either way his proximity to you was making you think weird things and you'd really like to go to sleep. So you decide to bite the bullet and wake him up to make him sleep in his own bed. Or at the very least break away from his grasp. -------

I have to stop rn or I'll write the whole thing--- written in a sleep depreived migraine ridden state after reader one to many angst fics and I'm craving fluff and love but lol I did even write that part

I'm tired but also😭👎🤔👍🤷‍♀️

[davosmymaster]

Fallen from Heaven, Grown on Earth

A/N - Hello everyone! Long time no see. Here is a story I wrote for @beautifulbows924​ 's writing challenge. Thank you so much for this! <3 Before you start reading I'd like to say I'm very proud of this, even if it's not as good as I'd like it to be. I had never written such a long story, (and finished it) and obviously not in English. As always, English is not my first language, and this had no beta reader so forgive me and please, laugh out loud if I write something that doesn't make sense. Also, my first time writing smut, please don’t come at me.

Also, this fic turned out a bit dark near the end, I'm obviously against any type of violence. If you need help, there's plenty of resources out there for you. You're not alone.

 TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, eventual smut, graphic descriptions of sex, blood, mentions of self harm and suicide (they do not happen, they are only mentioned but just in case), dubius consent because DID (?), DID probably not accurate, canon-typical violence, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, panic attacks, sleeping disorders, jealousy, alcohol consumption, no beta, probably more warnings but I'll update if I find more.

PAIRINGS - Steven Grant x fem!reader ; Marc Spector x fem!reader.

WORD COUNT - 25k (yes I know, I started writing a one-shot and this happened)

SUMMARY - The arrangement was to become friends with Steven Grant, that was what you'd promised to your lifelong best friend, Marc Spector; but things quickly get out of hand.

 FALLEN FROM HEAVEN, GROWN ON EARTH

The ride to Steven’s workplace was calm, calmer than you had expected it to be. The driver hadn’t talked to you apart from asking where you wanted to be dropped, and you had wondered if your face was revealing that much about your current emotional state that people knew better than to bother you with small talk. You didn’t really know. And in the end, you didn’t really care either. What you did care about, though, was that you hopefully seemed nice enough not to scare a certain person away.

 The taxi slowed down as it took a soft turn at the last intersection. Behind the maze of buildings that was London, the British museum emerged like a vision.

 From afar, the British museum looked intimidating. That thought hadn’t changed since your last visit. It was an enormous monster in the middle of the city, a bleach type of white emerging from the road, a minotaur in the maze pushing the rest of the world outside. You couldn’t stop looking at it, but shook your head to get rid of the anxious thoughts anyways. You were about to go inside. You had work to do.

 You had promised.

 You decided that biting the bullet was the best way to end the nightmare soon, so you rushed inside. Maybe if you focused on the exposition it would be easier. After all, you quite liked it las time you were there with the school. At least the small cardboard pyramids didn’t look as bad as the gigantic building did, and the mummies were fairly interesting even when you didn’t have a class full of kids to keep busy and entertained.

 The hall was surprisingly small, and you crossed it as quickly as you could trying not to look like a madwoman. In the exact same second that you could see the first sarcophagus in the room, majestically standing up on the floor behind their protective glass, your heart seemed to slow its pounding in your chest. The icy cold air and the ringing in your ears dissipated into the nothingness at the same time, leaving you with a warm sensation in your chest and trembling fingers.

 Don’t worry, you thought to yourself. You’ve seen him a million times. You grew up together. Surely he cannot be that different, right?

 In the middle of your soothing speech, a hand gently grabbed your shoulder. All your muscles instantly flexed, and suddenly your heart was back at a hundred per minute. You turned slowly as if you were about to be caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing; which was the case. But instead of a pair of brown orbs and dishevelled curls, you stood in front of a security guard.

 “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re closing in half an hour. I thought maybe you’d like to know.”

 You took a deep breath to calm yourself.

 “Yeah, I’m aware of that”

 He seemed confused, which was fair. The exposition was an hour-long, at least. That was without the videos and documentaries streaming in the adjacent rooms. It had taken you the whole day to reunite the strength to come here, but not just the strength; also all the doubts swirling in your mind asking if you were doing the right thing. It was an unending carousel in your head, always looking for an answer you were satisfied with and never getting one. It was madness.

 You hardly knew the name of the person you were looking for, and at the same time, you had known him your whole life. You didn’t even know why you were so scared.

 Fucking Marc, you sentenced. Fuck Marc and fuck my inability to say no to him.

 The guard went back to his monitors, not entirely happy with your answer.

 The exposition was impressive, you could give them that. Once you saw the recreation of the Great Pyramid of Giza, everything got easier. The walls were full of old artefacts behind stainless glass. If the sarcophagus were not real, and they probably weren’t, they seemed to be very accurate. Most importantly, the subject you were looking for wasn’t in his spot. Maybe he had finished sooner today. Hopefully. Maybe you could leave and create an elaborate lie for Marc. Some little white lies had never hurt anyone.

 You were looking at the faded colour of one of the sarcophagus when you heard his name.

 “Stevie!” it was almost a whisper, but a very loud one. “C’mon, go there and try to sell something!”

 You couldn’t help but stare at the woman. After all, the word curious was something people had always associated with you. She had your whole attention as she almost shouted (whispered?) at his employer. You felt a pang in your chest as Marc… no, Steven, walked into the circular room from behind a column anxiously fixing his name tag. In exchange for her disrespect, Steven successfully whispered something back at her without looking too much into her eyes and positioned himself behind the counter. He tried to fix some of the candy and the postcards in their small glass containers, but as soon as the woman vanished he stopped and looked ahead.

 His eyes locked on yours, while you were looking at him.

 Swallowing every last bit of pride and listening to your self-preservation instinct, you broke free from the enchantment. Your eyes locked with the red staining the lines of the sarcophagus, except your mind was in an entirely different place. Your body was screaming at you to run, it didn't say where, just to run away from such an open room without walls to keep his eyes away from you.

 You felt guilty. You felt caught red-handed. You could feel his eyes piercing you in the head and getting his hands on all your thoughts and intentions. Marc had warned you Steven was incredibly smart, after all. And he had said that if you thought you couldn't do it, it was better not to try. Steven couldn't know about Marc. Never. No. Nada.

 In the pockets of your jacket, your hands became a pair of fists. And although you were stuck in place, frozen for god-knows-how-long, you managed to take a calming breath and walk slowly in the opposite direction; pretending you were looking at some scriptures that were hanging on the wall. The circles and edges of the complicated hieroglyphs caught your attention, your eyes stuck on them as you felt someone walk behind your back. The whole scene looked like something out of a horror movie.

 "Are you reading those?" Steven asked, pointing at them "because if you are you must be a bloody genius."

 The accent shook you to your core, even though it wasn't the first time you heard it. A sudden, soft chuckle came out of your mouth and you had to keep yourself from laughing in his face and say `My god Marc, you sound so posh".

 In your mind, you were eighty-seven, in a nursing home and still making fun of Marc because of it. The image was enough to calm your nerves enough to talk. You'd have to thank him for that.

 "Not really. No," you said "but I have to admit I tried..." you squinted at the black lines. "...very hard, actually."

 "Well," he said, jokingly, both hands in his pockets and moving slightly on his feet as he looked back and forth from the scriptures and yourself. "You can try as hard as you want for the next twenty minutes, but I figure you won't get anything out of the bloke who wrote this just by killing the words with your looks."

 His gaze shifted, slightly scanning you up and down in a quick glance; so quick and subtle you wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't been staring at him without blinking for the whole interaction.

 He expected an answer, but you were so astonished by that look, the way that this person who looked so much like Marc had given you, that you had entirely forgotten the question by the time you snapped out of it. At the same time, you saw the lightbulb lightning inside his pupils and turned instantly self-conscious.

 "I- I mean- I didn't mean it like that," he stumbled upon his own words, a soft laugh emanating from his lips. "I meant, you know, if looks could kill... it's a set phrase, you know?"

Something weird moved in your chest. It was something warm and fuzzy, and you couldn't help but let the feeling sink in. His struggle was cute, despite how bad it might sound.

 You had never seen Marc act like that with anyone. He had always been very reserved, only talked the exact amount not to seem rude and sometimes not even that. He hurt your feelings many times and broke your heart many more. Sometimes you wondered if he even cared about you in the slightest and other times you were certain that the only person he cared about in the world was Layla. He looked at her as if she held all the answers in the universe.

 Marc had never looked at you the way Steven just had. No matter how much you wished for it or how long you waited. In fact, it was obvious that he hadn't even given you a second thought. Because if he had, he would have figured out by now that you had loved him for sixteen years.

 It was a thorn in your heart that you could never get rid of. No matter how many boyfriends, friends with benefits or one night stands you had. It was a lost cause.

 "Don't worry, Steven," you said, trying to calm him down with a smile and getting rid of all your thoughts regarding Marc. "Of course I get it, I'm a teacher after all."

 His eyes lit up at the mention of his name. It had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it, yet it didn't really matter because he was wearing a tag with his name. Maybe next time you'd need an elaborate excuse.

 There could be no more slips.

 "Yeah, I recognized you. Saw you here at the beginning of the week with the primary school, right? I thought you looked familiar, but I didn't want to bother you or look like a creep."

 "It's alright, you don't like a creep at all," you said, although you wondered if he was flirting or he in fact thought you looked familiar.

 Maybe if he squinted very hard he could see you in Marc's memories, right? No, obviously not. If I'm gonna be doing this, I definitely need more research, you thought.

 "That's good, 'cause I don't know your name and I'd like to change that."

 Your gaze went straight to the floor as if something had stained your shoes. The faintest blush began to cover your cheeks and you cursed yourself for that. You introduced yourself trying not to make much eye contact, looking at the black lines on the wall instead.

 'Oh, he's really good.' you thought 'How did he get in this situation, even? How is he as lonely as Marc said?'

 You were seriously starting to doubt his words.

 In that next instant, he quickly glanced behind him and his whole body became tense. Her boss was a blonde shadow in the back of the room, luring over him like a hawk waiting to get his next meal. At that very moment, you thanked fate that you loved your job and your superiors were mostly nice; because she looked terribly angry.

 "Woah... looks like I'm in trouble here," he muttered. "It was really nice to meet you. I'll let you try to decode the rest before she eats me," he said.

 Steven took a step towards the cash register and then turned back again.

 "By the way-" he spoke, raising his voice. "We have wonderful stuffed gods-animals and delicious sweets on the counter."

 You couldn't help but laugh. Then he took a step forward and tilted his face an inch closer to yours, completely unexpectedly. His fingertips touched your arm. You could feel the gentle pressure above the fabric of your jacket. A flash of lightning started where his fingers landed and ran up and down your spine. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end, and goosebumps erupted in both your arms.

 He smiled and you could have sworn that he lit up the room. Then he whispered, just for you.

 "Enjoy the rest, will ya?"

 You nodded.

 When he turned and left your side, you physically felt your lungs deflate like a balloon. You were by yourself again, looking at meaningless black lines. You asked yourself why you had been so anxious and concerned and on the verge of a panic attack for so long. Marc had said you two would get along. He wasn't wrong.

 You checked the time on your phone. You still had time but not enough to finish the exposition in the room.

 'Too bad,' you thought, almost laughing. 'I'll have to come back again'

 A pang reappeared in your chest, harder than ever before in the face of such a hostile fate. The fate in which you accidentally ended up falling for Marc Spector again. You breathed through it. After all, you were setting yourself for failure. You could not feel like that again. It was nonsense. You couldn't possibly make up fantasies in your head, not again.

 It was exhausting to get your heart broken, but it was even worse to try and pick up the pieces of yourself from the floor and realize some were missing while others were barely splinters and impossible to reach. You couldn't do that again. You couldn't witness someone you loved break you apart again, insult your feelings and spit at your image and then ask you why you were so sensitive. You just couldn't.

 You swore you would not fall in love with Steven Grant. And it only took you the realization that Marc would beat the shit out of you if you did to get convinced of your own words.

 You could have ended your interactions with Steven for the rest of your life right there, tell Marc some dumb excuse and go on with your life. Hell, you could even tell Marc to fuck off and he would never bother you again. After all, he had been too busy for a while now to even call. He wouldn't realize. He wouldn't care.

 However, Marc was very concerned about Steven. According to him, Steven had no one around. He had no friends, no girlfriend, no one to take care of him when he got ill, no one who missed him if he abruptly disappeared, no one to call if he found himself in trouble. Now setting Marc aside, you felt sorry for him; because he seemed like a genuinely nice person waiting to show the best of him. You just hoped you weren't making it up just because he had Marc's face.

 So you could have stopped everything right there, you really could, but didn't want to.

 Steven was starting to get everything into boxes when you approached the counter. To say you were nervous would've been an understatement because you were about to ask him for a date, and you had never been the type to ask guys on dates, not in high school and certainly not after, but fate had a fun way to mess with things, especially with your things. You had no doubts about that. You couldn't possibly find any other way of getting to know him and getting his phone number.

 "I'd like one of these," you said, taking in your hands one of the stuffed animals. It was a hippo, or so you thought. You tried to read her name on the label. "What's his name... Uhm.. tawel-"

 "Taweret," he answered, a grin on his face. "Egyptian goddess of childbirth and fertility. Certainly not towell. And her pronouns..." he pointed at her raising his eyebrows "...are she/her."

 Steven took it from your hands and put it in a bag. He gave it to you and leaned over the counter until his chest almost hit the surface.

 "Oh, wow. You really are passionate about this"

 "I am," he answered. "It's a bit of an odd hobby to have, but I mean some people like football."

 He chuckled first and then you couldn't help but follow. Would he ever stop being so goofy? You hoped not. Being Steven's friend could be easier than you expected.

 "How much is it?"

 "This round's on the house."

 Your jaw slightly dropped, your lips parted. "Oh, that's really not neccessary."

 "It's not, but I want to," he said. "You seem like a really nice person."

 "Tell that to my students, they are wishing a get in a car wreck or something."

 He laughed, then ran a hand through his hair seemingly anxious and took the receipt out of the cash register. With a pen, he started writing something in it.

 "I was wondering if- well..." you started. "...if you'd like to go for a beer, or coffee or whatever, some time."

 Steven stopped writing, his head shot up.

 "Sorry..." he said, mumbling, the accent was music to your ears. "Are you asking me out? Like... I'm not going to say no, but I was writing my number here hoping..." his gaze shifted between the receipt and your face. "...woah, yeah, sure. Coffee or tea is fine. We can do that."

 It had been easier than you thought it'd be, and you couldn't believe your luck when you saw his number and name written on the receipt.

 Problems started with the next step of the plan; hanging out. Steven was difficult in that aspect, and you started to understand why others seemed reluctant to form a meaningful relationship with him. After work, you had plenty of free time that you silently loathed, so it wasn’t difficult —at least on your part— to meet your lifelong group of friends and coworkers. You figured finding time for a date and eventually getting to know Steven would be effortless, but that was far from the truth.

 For the first date, you had chosen something informal, just grabbing up some coffee on a Saturday afternoon; but he never showed up. You dialled his number and called. He picked up the phone on the last ring.

 "Steven?"

 "No, Marc."

 On the other end of the line, he breathed heavily in short quick breaths.

 "You got his number, that's a start. Congratulations."

 He said it in a way that made you feel bad about it. Which was fine to an extent, because forcing a friendship out of pure pity and lying was the last thing anyone wanted. But the charismatic, kind and fun nature of Steven made it feel as if you had known him your whole life —which wasn't technically a lie— so at the end of the day it was easy not to think much about it. Besides, you figured that at least part of that guilt was completely justified.

 "Don't say it like that," you said. "We were supposed to be meeting for coffee. Twenty minutes ago. So you, Steven, you're body, whatever are late."

 "Can't right now," he said.

 A loud thud filled the line. A shuddered breath, the sound of metal clacking and something crushing.

 "What is that sound? Are you alright?"

 "Yeah, yeah. I'm busy at the moment. I'm confident Steven will make it up to you later somehow. Bye."

 And just like that, he hung up.

 Marc had never been the social type. Already in high school, he had loved a good friendly get-together to get drunk on cheap beer and play cards; but he didn't like parties with loud music; especially if he didn't understand the lyrics. He loved renting films on Blockbuster and watching them on his then brand-new VHS player, and if he did it with the right person, he also loved everything that followed.

 Despite not being very social, he was certainly not ugly. He was no Casanova and had no desire for it, but he found out pretty soon in life that if he wanted he could have any girl he liked. That is, if he actually put just a little bit of effort into not being a dick.

 He got too drunk once, and you suspected that also high. His brown irises were completely engulfed by his pupils. Both of you were on the end-of-school-year trip to Brighton. It was his last year in college (Marc was a year behind what he was supposed to), and you had just started it, but lived as if it was your last because most of your friends were Marc's age and you didn't really care. He appeared from nowhere in the lounge of the hostel and pulled your arm up from where you were seated on the floor. It was so sudden and violent that you almost slapped him in front of everyone. However, your anger quickly dissipated when you saw the state he was in. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair messy with curls pointing out in all directions; his soul lost somewhere in the empty space between you and him.

 "I need to talk to you for a second," he whispered.

 Some of your classmates, who you were talking to before he showed up, tried to convince you not to go, worried about his state, but they ultimately gave you a look of disbelief as you left. By then you had already known Marc for a few years and he was your closest friend. You knew they were worried he would hurt you, but they didn't know Marc at all, not like you did.

 He did apologize once you were outside, but didn't say anything until the beach was visible. He took a seat on a bench on the promenade, facing the sea. You sat next to him, crossing your legs on the bench on a warm summer night; and waited.

 His eyes welled up with tears without saying a word, and your nerves spiked up. Something had to go horribly wrong for him to act that way. You had never seen him cry before. So you did the only thing you could, you hugged him, squeezing him in your arms as if you could make anything that might cause him the slightest discomfort disappear. You knew you couldn't, but you had to try anyway.

 You let him go eventually. Marc gave a long sigh, trying to get his pieces together. And he spoke.

 "I left my parents' house last week," he said, solemnly as he watched the waves break against the shore. "And I'm not going to uni. I'm going to join the military."

 You had the awful realization that being drunk and high was the only way Marc was able to open up to you. The pang in your stomach became unbearable, the pain blooming there threatening to open a wound that would never close. Tears began to stream down your face without warning. Marc broke crying again, covering his face with his hands. Your arms surrounded his whole figure, even though he was much bigger and taller.

 Until then, you had a clear image of what your future would look like. At least for the next three years following college. You wanted to apply to London Met when you finished A-Levels, to pursue teaching. Marc, on the other hand, had always been unsure about his options; but he had never even considered doing anything other than university. The thought of the two of you living in the same student flat or even in the same building on campus kept you up at night sometimes. You'd often surprise yourself by searching for rent prices, figuring out which areas in London were best to live in. How wonderful would it be to wake up in the same house as your best friend? To talk for endless hours about your hopes and dreams and fears and nightmares and stories you've told each other a thousand times; to come back home wasted from a party, have a bowl of cereal and attend classes only half sober. He was reluctant as to look way too much into the future, Marc was a pessimist as good as they come, yet at some point, he had declared that he would happily do all the cleaning and laundry as long as he didn't have to cook anything other than a sandwich.

 Now the image was shattered, broken, as each tear and sob tore your throat apart. Still, your eyes didn't leave Marc's now small figure as you cried. You were frightened that if you did something as insignificant as blinking he would disappear into thin air. It was the first time in your life Marc Spector had actually looked his own age, his own personality and demons looming over him and often making his features sharper, darker and overall angrier than he really was.

 Then it happened.

 His hands fell from his face and landed on the bench. His fingers gripped the metal under his flesh as if it was his only anchor to the human world. The vein in his neck swelled, his pulse clearly visible from where you watched. His face twitched as if he had taken a bite out of a lemon. His eyes rolled back to his head.

 "Marc?"

 Pure panic, as a hot white flame, rushed through your veins and infected every cell of your body. The world around you gave a sudden turn around you as you reached for him, burying your nails in the tender flesh of his shoulder.

 "Marc!"

 As soon as it started, it stopped. His features changed, and his beautiful dark eyes appeared again. They had a glint you couldn't quite comprehend, one you could only describe as the look children had in a toy store. It was subtle, very subtle, something you'd have missed if you weren't leaning over him, one hand on his shoulder and the other not-so-gently grabbing his face.

 He mumbled something you didn't discern. All you could hear back then was your pulse beating behind your ears and your gasps for air. The image was burned into your eyelids forever. That night you'd have nightmares about it.

 "Are you alright, Marc?" you asked.

 He squinted, bewildered and petrified at the same time. Then turned his face away and Marc fronted once more. That was the first time he told anyone about his DID, and the first time he got some comfort about it. That was, also, the first time you heard about Steven Grant.

 The army posted him two weeks later and Marc left without saying goodbye, only calling you after he landed and just before reaching the out-of-range area. During those two weeks, Mr Spector called your home landline every other day. You refused to pick up the phone. He was a reasonable man, a good man. At least that was what your mother said each time, after hanging up the phone on a desperate father in the search for his son.

 "I'm sorry, Mr Spector. She doesn't know where he is. No. She doesn't know. No, she will not do that. I hope your son gets in touch with you soon. I'm sorry. Bye."

    Saturday passed and at midday on Sunday, there he was. Steven calling. The phone hadn't reached your ear yet but you could already hear his apologies.

 "I'm so so sorry," he said, his voice quick and reverberating and stumbling over his own words. "I don't know what happened. I think I slept through the whole day yesterday. Please don't hate me."

 It broke your heart to hear him talk like that about himself, and given the fact that Marc would quite literally kill you if you said anything to Steven about him, your hands were tied.

 "It's okay, Steven. You must've been very tired. Surely you needed it."

 It took him a solid minute to respond.

 "Oh, Woah... I actually thought you'd be fuming," he said. "As in I-don't-want-to-see-you-ever again fuming. Don't get me wrong, I-"

 "Steven," you interrupted, playing with the remote's battery cover in your other hand. "I swear I'm not mad at you. Actually, I was a bit late and thought you had left already," you lied.

 "Oh, god" he answered, he let out a soft relieved laugh. "Sounds like a hell of a date right? You know...we can grab some Starbucks near the museum in an hour or so- I mean, if you fancy it."

 You shook your head at his words, the smile on your lips not wearing off for a second, and thanked the universe that he wasn't looking. Steven was too much of a nervous wreck sometimes. You took a mental note about it. That was something so unlike Marc that it was even comical that they were, in a way, the same person.

 "See you in an hour, Steven."

 "Alright, yes! See you."

 Steven was still wearing his name tag when you met him at the museum's front door, which fought the urge to call him Marc when he appeared in your field of vision. Despite that, you absorbed every detail about his features to find out if it was actually Steven or not; you didn't want to fuck up.

 It wasn't difficult to differentiate them, not when Steven held a box of chocolates close to his chest and he had two coffees to go waiting on the base of one of the museum's columns.

 "I'm so glad you could make it," he said. His smile was genuine, you didn't get used to seeing it on his face.

 His greeting was a quick hug, too quick for your liking. Despite being a completely different person and sounding like one, Steven still smelled like Marc. That, is, at least behind the smell of the rubbing alcohol at the entrance of the building. There was a desire burning for Marc's closeness somewhere near your heart, in that tiny spot where you always felt it empty no matter what you were doing. His fingers were hot against your cold skin.

 "I'm so sorry about yesterday," he said once it was over. Even though you tried to talk him out of it, he didn't let you. "No. No. Don't be nice. It was a bummer for ya, you don't have to hide it. I brought you a little something to make up for it."

 You took the box of chocolates and couldn't help but think that Steven could be a dream for someone whose love language was gift-giving. The stuffed hippo he gave you was now one of your favourite things, along with The Killers' concert tickets Marc got you for your birthday after the last time he came back from Egypt.

 "You didn't have to. Thank you very much."

 "You're very much welcome," he answered, his brown eyes shining. "I have thirty minutes I saved from my lunch break, forty if Donna doesn't catch me; 'til then I'm all yours."

 The confession shouldn't be as cute as it was. The fact that he didn't have time for you and still made an effort to create it was a kind gesture that you were not used to. It was well-known the fact that people who want to see you, will go out of their way to do it, even if they have scarce time for you. You'd hear it everywhere, even from your friend's mouths, but had never actually experienced it. In the end, you were the one to always say it was okay when others cancelled plans or when Marc said he was busy, which had been a daily occurrence even after he left the military.

 You took a sip out of your coffee, and you had to admit it was better than what you usually ordered

 "I didn't know how you liked it so..."

 "It's perfect, really."

 "Good," he said, nodding and looking at the stairs as he hid a smile. He was just mumbling to himself. "Yeah... that's perfect."

 Steven was going to kill you with his awkwardness, in the best of senses. He grabbed his coffee and the two of you turned and walked away from the building. He was still wearing his name tag.

 "Steven," you called him, stopping in your tracks for a second, your hand gently touching his elbow to make him stop as well. "Let me help you with that."

 He frowned and for the first time he looked a bit similar to your childhood best friend. You took the tag out of his ash-coloured jacket, careful not to poke him with the sharp end of the pin, and when you tilted your head to look into his eyes, there were merely a few inches of empty space between the both of you. Steven's lips opened slightly, his eyes fixed on yours and red blood taking away the paleness in his light brown skin.

 You wanted to stay right there. Steven had a twinkle in his eyes that you couldn't get out of your head, a way about him that you can't help but be drawn to. You couldn't understand how others didn't see it, as difficult as his circumstances were, you couldn't quite understand that no one wanted to befriend him just because he had some small flaws.

 You extended the pin to him, who looked at it in bewilderment and put it away after thanking you.

 You can't fall in love with Steven Grant, you told yourself. But knew it was already a matter of time before your ultimate fall. It was impossible not to be attracted to him physically, you dreamed of kissing his cheeks and long lashes and burying your fingers in his curls. And for what little time you had spent together, you knew his personality was awkward and somehow also calm and kind, and that was something you liked as well. You'd seen him talk to several of your students, sell sweets with a smile and return lost phones. Back then you'd been so impressed by the sight of him that you didn't dare to get any closer, but the kids laughed and asked and talked and despite not being a guide, the kids referred to him as such when they got back on the school bus.

 You just hoped you weren't making everything up just because you loved Marc, or still loved Marc. No, loved. That's right. Past tense.

 It only took you another date, this time in a vegan restaurant in Soho, to realize you actually liked him. And not in a friendly way. More in a we've-talked-for-five-hours-and-the-waiter-is-kicking-us-out kind of way. You drank wine until you felt like figuring out what colour Steven's sheets were; despite promising yourself you wouldn't get drunk in case the word Marc spilt out of your mouth by accident. It didn't. Maybe Marc didn't give you much thought, but Steven definitely did, and wasn't that everything you'd dreamed of? Happiness looked real nice on Steven. You didn't want to break that for anything in the world.

 Just before leaving he excused himself to the bathroom; and after waiting for a while, you decided to do the same thing. It wasn't your intention, but the walls were thin enough that you distinguished Steven's weird accent without effort, and as drunk as you were, you didn't have the morals nor the self-discipline not to eavesdrop

 "You have to meet her, mom," he said. "She's absolutely gorgeous, I swear. I'll bring her soon. I mean... if she stays long enough..." a long pause. "Uhmm, sorry for that. Yeah, forget it. I drank a bit. Yeah, I know, me drinking. Pfff. Anyways, she's awesome. I think you'll love her. Looks a lot like an actress but I can't quite think of who, maybe that's why she looked so familiar the first time. I have to go now, she's waiting. Love you. Laters, gators."

 It was a stroke of luck that there was no one else in the toilets because the alcohol made you start crying. Marc didn't talk to his mom, never had, really. And now certainly he couldn't. Marc's dad called you when the shiva for Marc's mother started. He didn't attend, and his dad wanted him to have someone by his side. You figured he didn't have Layla's phone or he'd have called her, and you weren't even sure he knew that Marc had gotten married.

 That call was everything Marc always wished for but never could. You wondered who was Steven calling, and which number he dialled. You didn't even know how the whole thing worked, what was the arrangement, how Marc was so good at it that Steven never noticed any traces of Marc in his life.

 You splashed water on your face, but that didn't take away the sadness or the alcohol boiling under your flesh. You hoped Steven didn't notice. He did anyways.

 "Hey, what happened?" he was on his feet as soon as he saw your face. You hated it. "What's wrong, love?"

 His hot callous fingers caressed your red cheeks. He took the wet baby hairs out of your face and tucked them behind.

 "I drank too much, I'm so sorry"

 He hugged you and blamed himself for filling the glasses so many times. Of course, you denied it.

 "Let's get out of here, alright?" He said, left some notes on the table, took your handbag and carried it.

 His arm tried to embrace you and pull you close to him as you walked out of the restaurant. You backed off, suddenly feeling like a child in need of comfort —and refused to feel that way—, but he didn't take it like that. The hurt showed on his face, in his pressed lips, in the way he walked next to you at a safe distance.

 Your fingers slid around his wrist and curled around his fingers once you crossed the entrance, and a small dimple appeared again. It was so easy to make him happy, you liked how effortless everything was. He stopped in his tracks.

 "Everything alright?" he whispered, slurring his words.

 You nodded profusely, more than you should have. Your sight fell on his shoulder — for some reason— and you couldn't help but leave a kiss there.

 Steven's breath was caught in his throat.

 It's so easy.

 He leaned against you, still holding your hand as an anchor. He ran his fingertips along the back of your neck, and pulled you closer to him slowly. He left a chaste kiss on your forehead.

 Squeezing your eyes shut, a different kind of warmth spread through your body, different from the uncomfortable hotness of wine. Letting go of his hand, you grabbed the fabric of his shirt above his ribs, fighting the urge to slide your hand under it. You wanted him a little bit closer, but he took a step forward and you had to take one back, you hit the wall. His fingers still hidden in your hair.

 He silently gasped, his laborious breathing against your cheek, the smell of wine in his breath, his lips parted.

 "M-May I kiss you now?" he said. His eyes closed shut, nervously, his forehead pressing onto yours. His hot breath sweet over your own lips.

 A soft chuckle came out of your chest. You leaned over him and left a kiss there, where his neck and jaw found each other.

 He gasped, hard.

 "You don't have to ask, Steven."

 Even though he had warned you, you didn't see it coming. His kisses were supposed to be calm, loving, at least you had imagined them as such. Instead, he furiously joined your mouths, a moan reverberating in the depths of your throat as he grabbed both sides of your face and lifted you to have more access. You thought of returning the favour and buried your fingers in his hair and pulled. The moan he let out was animalistic, his breath was hot in your mouth as he quivered and it became raggered a second later.

 If Steven didn't kill you, you for sure were.

 His forehead pressed against yours. With his eyes closed, he kissed you on the lips once more, and then your cheek. You took a deep breath, drunk in every way.

 "Thank you," he whispered. "You've no idea how long I've waited for that."

 Oh, Steven, if you knew.

 "I'd take you home if we weren't so drunk," you mumbled, although you hadn't meant to say it out loud.

 It was pure delight to see his eyes get drowned in the darkness of desire. A look so strange and new in him and still, the naive glint didn't leave.

 "On the second date?" he whispered, the tip of his tongue wetting his lower lip. "People do that?"

 "This is our third, technically, but yeah, they do," you chuckled.

 Steven shook his head and apologized before taking a step back. You wondered why he was saying sorry for, but then he looked down and you could see exactly why. It was impossible to take your eyes out of him, of how big he seemed even with jeans on. It was an astonishing surprise to still find out things that belonged to Marc —in part— that you didn't have a clue about.

 Steven closed his eyes shut and tried to hide the bulge in his trousers by standing face to the wall. Redness engulfed all his features in a split second. "Think about deserts, think about deserts," he mumbled.

 You can’t stop looking at his face.

 “It’s easier if you think about our English teacher in college”

 As soon as your lips stopped moving, you felt every organ in your body descend to the core of Earth. Your skin tingled uncomfortably and you felt yourself start shaking. The comforting smile on your face vanished completely. The dimly lit street gave a soft turn around the confused look of Steven.

 “That actually works, mine was a nightmare,” he chuckled. “But you said our.”

 You frowned on purpose and took your sight to somewhere behind him. You were not the best liar and hated to look at people’s eyes when you had to become one, but that probably only made you look more suspicious. Then you looked back at his face.

 “I didn’t.”

 “Actually you did,” he said, all smiles. Every muscle in your body relaxed, slowly. And all the blood in your feet seemed to go back where it belonged. He kissed your cheek. “It’s okay, it’s the alcohol talking. I guess every English teacher’s butters,” he said, then he looked down and grabbed your hand. “Yezz, look at you. You’re shivering.”

 “Am I?”

 Your voice was almost a whisper, and again, you shouldn’t have said that. In your defense, the world was a bit blurry, everything still doing circles around you even with your eyes closed. Steven took his coat and placed it over your shoulders.

 “I’ll cab us home, yeah?” he says, his voice was calm and kind with a touch of worry. “You can stay at mine”

 “No.”

 “It’s okay. I’ll give you my bed.” Steven said “I don’t even sleep much, I promise. It just doesn’t feel right to leave you alone now.”

 Before you could think about where you were heading, Steven was already opening the front door of an old building in Brixton; which you had no idea of. Last time you had been in Marc's house, it was also Layla's. And after that, you had only met Marc a few times, always in cheap cafés or bars after the sun had set.

 Once he opened the door of his flat, he stepped aside and gestured with his hand for you to come in. It was almost a bow. "Welcome, my lady."

 His flat was a one-bed studio without walls. It had a bookcase in the middle of the room, full of books and vintage decorative figurines, although it was fair to say the entirety of his home looked like the backroom of any library with more than fifty years. Although the sheer amount of clutter made it look dirty, it really wasn't. It was cosy and inviting, but also a comfortable and disorganized mess. You took off your heels before you had hardly taken a step into the flat.

 "Give me a second, yeah?" he said, his smile trembling over his lips. "I have to hoover first. It's a bother, I know. Stay there."

 You couldn't stop but frown at his words. "Steven, what are you talking about? I don't care about that."

 You wondered if he was about to laugh, and followed him. He scratched the back of his neck, turned on his heels and quickly walked. Then you saw it.

 The shelves were blocking your vision, but not anymore. His bed was barely a mattress on the floor inside a wooden structure with four columns, almost like a cage. And around it, a circle of sand. You stood there, feeling confused and awkward at the same time.

 "Steven, why do you...?"

 "It's just a second, sorry," he said, as he struggled to take the hoover out of a small wardrobe with cleaning supplies.

 "Steven, Steven," you caressed his shoulder in a comforting manner but failed at trying to take his attention. "Please, leave that alone and look at me."

 He did after a few seconds, and stepped aside when you asked him to. You left everything inside and closed the door behind you.

 "That's an awful lot of sand."

 He replied crestfallen, with both hands behind his back, as if he had just been caught doing something he shouldn't and punishment was about to be announced. "I know."

 "It's okay, it's your flat. I'm just curious about it."

 He bit the inside of his cheek and finally looked at you, a look of embarrassment plastered all over himself. Then he sighed, his shoulders falling like a dead weight. He started walking towards the kitchen.

 "Fancy a cuppa?"

 You followed him, and he served a cup of tea for both of you. He left them on the table and fetched two glasses of water as well.

 "I have a sleeping disorder," he said. His fingers were trembling around the cup, and his eyes looked at you almost waiting to read your body language. "I sleepwalk sometimes. And other times I sleep for more than ten hours and still manage to be exhausted. I have dreams, very vivid dreams. And-"

 You took one of his hands in yours. He was going to break the cup if he kept imprinting his fingers in it. You held his hand, and he frowned at you, the corners of his mouth turned down. He looked just like Marc.

 "Nightmares?" you asked.

 The lines on his forehead became deeper as he recalled his memories. "I wouldn't say nightmares. Well, yes, sometimes they are; but they don't usually feel like nightmares. I don't know."

 You wondered if it had something to do with Marc, with the fact that he also had to have some kind of life beyond all the time Steven took to live his.

 "Look, I know I'm a walking red flag," he pressed his open hands to his forehead. "But I promise I'm not bonkers, I just have a little trouble sleeping. I use the sand and the restraints to check I haven't left the bed during the night, that's all. I know it's crazy to have strains on the bed..."

 "I didn't say that."

 His eyes shot open, and the most incredulous and relieved laugh you had ever heard left his mouth. You couldn't help but chuckle as well.

 "Oh, you didn't just say that," he replied.

 The atmosphere was light again between both of you. His frown had vanished from his features. Steven's face was Steven's once again; with his bright dark orbs, raised eyebrows and little smiles. His shivers had stopped almost entirely, you could notice by the way his hands rested over the table and you couldn't stop yourself from taking one of them in yours. He looked at both your fingers, yours on top of his as you slowly traced a path to his palm. You witnessed how his sight lost focus for a few seconds, and waited until his eyes fell on you again to talk.

 "Steven, we all have problems, but that doesn't mean we don't deserve love and understanding," his brows frowned slightly, while his puppy face remained; he was trying not to cry. "If someone, anyone, denies them to you, just because you're not perfect, you're simply asking the wrong person. There are plenty of people out there who'd love you for the very same things other people would despise you for..."

 He wiped away a treacherous tear with his free hand and you kissed the back of the other.

 "...and that's okay. Not everyone has to like you, you don't like everyone either. Some are just pricks."

 Another chuckle. Another tear. He wiped it away and covered both his eyes with his palms. He sighed, hard. He seemed tired as his shoulders fell.

 "God, I shouldn't be crying my eyes out."

 Getting up from your chair, you left a chaste kiss on his cheek. Your arms went around his shoulders from behind, and you couldn't help but leave another kiss on his temple.

 Steven was suffering, and it was something you had never thought about. Since you had met him in person you had begun to understand him a little, but before that, since Brighton, you had never thought of Steven as a person who lived and suffered. The few times you had thought of him before —because Marc never talked about it again—, you had imagined Steven as a drugged version of Marc: a quiet boy, almost like a rag doll o a puppet, who took all the pain that Marc couldn't bear without complaint, taking and taking like a punching bag. Feeling no discomfort, no pain.

 The more you got to know him, the more you realised that Steven embodied the best parts of Marc. No, not the best parts of Marc, the best parts of himself. He was a wonderful man, shy and charismatic at the same time. Talkative and awkward and a true gentleman who opened doors for you and bowed and laughed a lot.

 You could love him, and that was not even a new realization, but you had never felt it as true. Steven didn't have to do any of the things he did to be charming, and yet it was part of his persona, part of what Steven really was. Marc and he shared a body, maybe half a life and time on this Earth, but nothing else.

 Steven Grant was unique, without a doubt one of the most beautiful souls in the universe. And you thought you might regret it tomorrow, but Marc would have to get used to it if things went further. Maybe you could find a way he could understand. He had to. The possibility of him reacting badly tied a knot in your stomach that made you suffocate with every passing second. He was still your best friend. And you still loved him too.

 Steven stood up from the chair, took both cups and left them in the empty sink. His face was as red as it could, his nose a bright red colour and eyelids wet by the tears. He put his hands on his hips and sighed.

 "You should go to bed. I'll lend you a t-shirt to sleep in if you want," he said, looking at the black dress you were wearing.

 Steven opened a drawer in the space that belonged to his bedroom and took a t-shirt and a pair of grey joggers. You took them from his hands.

 "Thank you," you whispered. "I really shouldn't be here."

 "That's bollocks, you can come here whenever you want."

 He ran one hand over his eyes again, even though there were no tears.

 You didn't say anything back because he had no idea of what was happening, but you knew you shouldn't be there. The closer you got to Steven the more you liked him, and you had never stayed the night at Marc's. Never. You wondered what would happen if Marc fronted in the middle of the night and found you sleeping there. Maybe you could come up with something. Either way, you squeezed your eyes shut, tried to shake off the feeling and finished getting dressed.

 You had wrapped the elastic of your pyjama bottoms around your hips, but you could still step on some of the fabric. The T-shirt was beyond repair, but you usually slept in T-shirts and sweatshirts two sizes too big anyway, so that was fine.

 "It's so big on me," you said, jokingly as you walked out of the bathroom.

 You caught him getting dressed too. He was just pulling his t-shirt over his shoulders when you opened the door. From where you stood, the views were immaculate. The muscles in his back stretched and contracted before he pulled the t-shirt over his shoulders. His bottoms were a tartan printed pyjamas.

 "Maybe you should just... jump right into bed," he said, now approaching you and glancing at the sand on the floor. "You know, don't get your feet full of sand. I'll be in the living room. Having fun with..." he joked as he took a book from his desk and showed it to you. Egyptian Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Goddesses, and Traditions of Ancient Egypt. "...Mrs Pinch."

 You got into bed without jumping, somehow, taking a long step from the floor to his bed. Steven stood closer as you did, almost grabbing your arm to help you. Before he could turn on his heels and leave, you kneeled on his bed, right in front of him. His eyes were still glossy from the crying.

 "Try and get some sleep," you said. He gave a long sigh and shook his head.

 "It's better if I don't."

 "Please, Steven..." you almost begged. "Get in here with me, just try, I'll leave when you fall asleep."

 You saw the doubt in his eyes, the indecision, but also the fear below all of that. Finally, he shook his head again.

 "Maybe we could try next time, if you still feel like it," He raised the book in the air and gave you a smile. "I have a second date tonight, don't be too jealous."

 "Why don't you read to me, then?"

 He considered it for a brief second, then he instructed you to get comfortable under the sheets while he locked the front door. Steven turned off all the lights except for the kitchen lights, which plunged the room into semi-darkness, but still bright enough to read. He also took a long stripe of blue tape and stuck it just above the locks in the door. Then he got into bed.

 You laid on your side, looking at him. His pillows smelled of him. It was a pleasant smell, the same smell that had flooded your nostrils when you had kissed his jaw earlier, only with less cologne. He didn't get under the covers. Instead, he crossed his legs on the mattress and leaned a little towards the headboard. He almost looked like a tall child.

 He gave you a quick glance from the text, almost waiting for you to stop him; but you didn't.

 "Let me know if you get tired of me."

 He smiled, half-joking, but you knew he was been very serious about it. Then he started reading.

 "Originally the Egyptian reverenced on God only whose likeness was never represented, “he is being worshipped in silence. His characteristics, however..."

 The next thing you knew, you were woken up by the morning light, slowly and calmly, bit by bit regaining consciousness of the context around you. It was an odd feeling, not to wake up in your own room, or by the loud noise of your alarm app, to see a different ceiling and furniture around you. In the usual morning amnesia, you looked under the sheets to check if you were still dressed. You were, but those clothes weren't yours.

 You got up, and there was something yellow in your vision for a second. It was so sudden that you wondered if a ray of sunlight just blinded you, but then you looked at your lap and saw it. It was a sticky note. It was probably on the headboard before it peeled off from the headboard.

 We need to talk. -Marc.

It was raining when you left your own studio that evening, and it was almost nine when you got to your destination, a cafe just a few blocks from Steven's flat. Marc had chosen it because it was the only one in the area which stayed open until half-past ten.

 By then you had been ignoring his calls for thirty-six hours, which should have been easy given the fact that Marc barely used his phone anymore, but he had called you twice yesterday and you had ignored them, giving him some excuse about having too many assignments to grade. It wasn't a lie, he had to understand that you had a life beyond him and Steven. And you knew nothing about Steven, so you guessed Marc hadn't given up the body yet.

 You couldn't help but wonder how poor Steven managed not to get fired or get burnout from work if every time he had a free day Marc decided it was his time to reappear. It was incredibly selfish of him to let Steven earn the money for both of them. After all, as far as you were concerned, Marc had been unemployed since he left the military.

 You weren't looking forward to meeting him, because you knew once you did, you'd have to tell lies. You couldn't possibly tell him about the kiss. You would, eventually, once you knew how to address the situation; but you didn't want to. Losing Marc was something you'd never forgive yourself for happening, and abandoning Steven now didn't seem like a good choice to make, at all. On the other hand, however, Marc had been extremely vague about the arrangement you two shared, you needed to know how the whole thing worked; for their sake as well as yours. You needed to know what to expect from Steven and Marc, when to worry if any of them vanished for too long, how the fronting thing worked, how he managed to figure out everything from Steven's life when Steven wasn't even aware that Marc existed.

 At the end of the day, you couldn't postpone meeting him anymore. It had been two weeks already, two wonderful weeks with your phone full of good-morning texts and calls lasting as much as two hours. You had hoped to have Steven as a friend, but he was too much of a boyfriend material.

 Your eyes were fixed on Marc even before you got in.

 The cold air suddenly disappeared from your cheeks. The cafe was cosy, but the heat inside was almost sultry. You could see it in the navy T-shirt Marc was wearing. You both came prepared for the heat, you had been there before.

 He subtly waved at you as you walked in. The table he had chosen was in a corner, away from everything and everyone even though the place was half empty. It was the same table you had been to other times, and you wondered if the waiters —who most certainly already knew your face— wondered if any of you was cheating on your partners.

 You walked to the table asking all the gods, the universe, and whatever else was out there to please not trip over your own feet. The last time you had been this nervous about meeting Marc, he was getting married in Cairo.

 He greeted and rose up from his chair to hug you. The hug was short-lived but much needed, yet you couldn't help but wonder if he could hear the frantic beating of your own heart against his chest.

 "I'm not gonna beat around the bush, I want you to answer a simple yes or no question," he asked.

 There he was, direct and blunt as a knife. There was no hesitation, no trembling in his hands. His accent almost came up weird now, that American accent that he had not left in Illinois when he moved to the UK in his teenage years and never quite vanished.

 "Are you and Steven together?"

 That was too easy of a question.

 "We obviously are not," you replied, but he still waited in silence. "If you're wondering why I stayed in his flat, we had dinner and I got drunk. I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted that he didn't feel good about me getting home by myself."

 He rolled his eyes and drank a sip of his black coffee.

 "You're quite the grown-up."

 You ordered your own tea and waited until the waiter left to keep up the conversation.

 "Yeah, I am, but this is still London and I'm still a woman. So there's that."

 Marc left his coffee on the table and leaned back in his chair, resting both elbows on the backrest. That's when his eyes scanned you, maybe he wasn't buying your half-truths. You kept your eyes on his until it was ridiculous how long you kept looking at each other.

 "What?" you asked.

 "Nothing. I just don't think you've ever stayed at mine."

 You chuckled, that was easy to respond to. The waiter left your cup of tea in front of you and you took a sip out of plain curiosity, a smile still lingering on your lips. Then you looked at him through your lashes.

 "Are you jealous, Marc?" you asked him, his mocking smile soon turned into a thin line. "Don't worry, I'm sure we can have a... how is it? a slumber party some time."

 You thought he would laugh at your imitation, but he did not. He gave you a look, the most disgusted look you'd ever seen on his face.

 "Did you fuck him?" his angry gaze pierced your soul, his elbows pressing into the table as he leaned over it. "Because I don't know if you're aware, but Layla and I aren't officially divorced yet."

 Low blow. Fucking moron.

 "I'm obviously not aware of that because you never talk to me anymore."

 "You didn't answer my fucking question.”

 A wry laugh bubbled up from your throat. Rage reddened your face with every passing second, you could feel the blood under the skin of your face, burning and boiling. You didn't know whether to tell him to fuck off or what. It was his fault that you were in this bizarre predicament, to begin with. Your muscles were stuck in place, you knew the answer to his question, but the fact he was asking was simply insulting. He didn't own you and neither did he own Steven.

 "You know what, fuck you, Marc," you rose up from the chair and smashed the palms of your hands against the table. "If I knew you'd turn into a freaking child I wouldn't have signed up to all of this. Now I'm basically lying to someone who has done nothing but treat me with respect. I cannot say the same about you."

 You left the place in a hurry, without even thinking about the bill you left behind. He called your name but you didn't give him any attention. Yet Marc still ran behind you and grabbed your arm once you were outside. You got rid of his grip and smacked his arm. He did not wince.

 "Don't follow me, Spector" you warned. "I'm tired of you."

 It did seem to pain. He grimaced as if he had been hit, blinked repeatedly and clenched his jaw.

 "You do not understand," he almost growled. "I just needed to make sure of it. I don't want to hurt you, I don't want you to get hurt in any way. I did say I shouldn't ask you for such a big commitment, but he is very alone. I was scared he would end up hurting himself. I knew you two would get along. There's no one who could not like you, (y/n)," he said. "You can't imagine how much I freaked out when I woke up and saw you next to me."

 His words hurt, so much so that you wondered why on earth you were still listening to a word that came out of his mouth. The thought of Steven hurting himself in any way was hard to swallow. You couldn't even begin to imagine such a sweet soul giving up on all the joy this life could bring him, of all the people he would indeed meet, all the people that had and would love him, all the experiences fate still kept for him.

 Then you had Marc's words. Did it hurt so much to wake up next to you that he had to leave? Was it so hard for him to look at your sleepy face in the morning? Did he find you that disgusting?

 "I will keep on seeing Steven," you said. "Not because of you, but because he genuinely has become a good friend," you finished. "I won't apologize for how disgusting you find me, though."

 He looked down. From that angle, he looked like a lost soul. He was absolutely drenched now, his curls sticking up to his warm skin, the ends dripping, the jacket now a shade darker because of the rain. Marc shook his head and looked back at you.

 "I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled. "I didn't..." his lips formed a thin line as he thought what to say. "Look, it's complicated. I am not always aware of him or his surroundings, but I am aware of his feelings because I can feel them too. You have to be only friends. I know I'm been annoying about it but it simply cannot happen."

 You gave a long sigh and pushed both you and him under the awning of another nearby restaurant. You tried not to think about his words.

 "You're right Marc, I don't understand. I don't know what you're doing" you confessed. "I don't know how the whole thing works, but it's straight-up ruining both of your lives. He's alone, not because he wants to, or because people find him irritanting, but because he can't commit to anyone, because he lives in a constant nightmare in which he does not know when or where he's waking up."

 "I'm not saying it's easier for you," you whispered as some pedestrians walked near the scene. "But at least you know what's happening. You used to live your own life, now he is the one doing it most of the time. He will eventually find out, so you should talk to him, however that works. Steven already thinks he's a lunatic," you said, as you remembered your conversation that night. "And I can't possibly understand how could you expect him to be happy in these conditions."

 Marc bit his lip and took his eyes away from you and into the road.

 "So you have talked that much, uh?" he crossed his arms over his chest. "I knew all the calls couldn't be about the weather."

 You stood there for a minute in silence, not knowing what else to say.

 "Things are getting out of hand, I know I'll have to do it at some point," he said. "I just can't right now. I need him to be calm and happy while I figure some shit out."

 You frowned at his words, nervousness and curiosity equally dancing in the pit of your stomach.

 "And what is that?" you asked, but when he did not respond you tried to guess. "Is it about Layla?"

 He shook his head. "It's more complicated than that."

 "You know you can tell me anything that's bothering you, Marc," you whispered, reassuringly. You actively fought the urge to caress the back of his head. "I'll try to help you. We've known each other for so long, it is actually insulting that you don't trust me yet."

 Marc smiled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Then he looked at you and the glint in his eyes sent you off balance. It wasn't naive like Steven's, it was different. You couldn't quite tell why or what differentiated them.

 "I know," a pause. "I know I can, and I will once it's over. I promise."

 Marc was not a person who used to make promises, let alone empty ones. Throughout your life, he had made you perhaps a handful of them, and he had always kept them to this day. He took his word very seriously, it was a matter of pride.

 So you believed him.

   The staff room was almost empty two weeks later, as it was lunchtime and most of the teachers were in the school cafeteria. It was torture to be there alone, with only one of the history teachers marking exams and photocopying worksheets. You had forgotten your lunch box at home and complained to Steven profusely via text. You refused to eat anything from the cafeteria, and you were positive that anyone who visited the kitchen would, really, so you were just starting to mark some exams when a movement far out of your field of vision caught your attention.

 The sight in front of you was so out of place that your brain had difficulty processing it. Steven stood next to the door frame, shoulders down and a timid smile on his lips, trying not to draw any attention to himself while waving a hand in front of his face to catch your attention.

 "Hey," he whispered. "You alright?"

 "What the hell are you doing here?" you mouthed from where you were seated.

 He lifted into the air a rectangle-shaped plastic bag and pointed at it with the biggest and proudest grin you'd ever seen on that face.

 Oh, he didn't.

 "I brought you lunch," he whispered once you were standing outside of the teacher's lounge. He opened the plastic bag and began pointing out things. "I got you some chicken with gravy and mashed potatoes. I made it myself so I don't know if you'll like it, I haven't actually tried it."

 You looked at him, impressed and incredulous as he talked. He looked at you, then at the food, then at you again.

 "What?"

 His thick accent made you giggle in this disbelief.

 "You should be resting, it's your day off," you said. "What are you even doing here? And where did you get the chicken to cook? You're vegan."

 His whole face relaxed, his eyelids half-closed, his smile a funny one saying you're not really asking me that.

 "From the supermarket, where else would I get food?"

 "Oh you're something else, I swear," you whispered. "You know what I meant."

 You took the bag in your hands and got into the staff room again. The history teacher, Graham, took a glimpse behind him at whatever you were carrying. He rolled up his sleeves to continue using the photocopier, a tattoo of a black scale standing prouder on his pale skin.

 You caught Steven looking at it as well, his mind far away from that room, but once you were out of the other teacher's sight, his focus came back.

 "Thank you very much," you said, voice low and clear. You hoped he could read on your face the intent, the longing. After all, there had been many more kisses since that third date. "I'd kiss you right here if I could."

 "I can fix that."

 He took a glimpse of every corner over his head, looking for security cameras. There was none. Then he kissed the inside of his fingers and pretended to slap you in slow motion.

 You shook your head.

 "You're very much welcome, by the way," Steven said. Then he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey coat, the one you loved so much on him. "So the thing is I might have gotten a bit too much chicken and you know... I'm vegan so..."

 You squinted at the way he was jokingly talking about it.

 "... so I thought maybe we could have dinner tonight. Maybe watch a movie afterwards, read a bit."

 "Oh, you cheeky bastard," you jabbed an accusatory finger in his sternum. "If you wanted me to come over, you should have just said that."

 "I know," he responded, his happy grin was breathtaking. "But I did want to make sure you ate, and I actually love cooking even if I'm not very good at it."

 You had to resist the urge to pull him by the collar of his jacket and kiss him on the lips.

 "You're perfect at it. And that was an awesome tactic," you replied. "The whole I'm vegan so you should come over and we could have dinner and have you-know-what after. You can't fool me, Grant."

 He shook his head.

 "It's a good one, right?" he said, his flirtatious tone completely foreign to him. "All jokes aside, I don't have any expectations about it, you know that." He gestured, his hands moving in the air. "Whatever you wanna do is fine. We could play chess all night if you wanted."

 That's why you liked him so much, everything was easy with him. He was happy with your company, loved doing indoor plans and both restaurant and coffee dates. That didn't mean everything was up to you, though, or that he didn't have any preferences. Last weekend he had miraculously gone to karaoke night with some of your friends, —you were lucky none of them knew Marc personally— and he had completely slain the stage. You had asked him to attend, but you didn't think he actually would. You slept in his flat again, and he was so drunk that as soon as his eyelids closed he ran to puke on the toilet. Then the next morning you fed Gus while he turned the kettle on and later both of you took a walk around Hyde Park; which was his plan in exchange for the karaoke.

 By now you were basically a couple, but avoided having that conversation nonetheless. Steven was a pro at reading your facial expressions and changing the subject when you didn't feel comfortable. That was pretty much the last thing he wanted, and he also had to remind himself that you had barely known each other for a month now, that things had started extremely fast and seemingly sped up a little bit more every second. And with those odds, Steven refused to crash his relationship against any tree, it’d simply not happen.

 The day went by too slowly after he left, promising that he'd see you that same night and sending good wishes for the rest of your workday. After that, you went home just to change the sweaty clothes you'd been wearing all day. You took a shower and rubbed some lotion on every inch of your body. And at the end of the routine, you openned your underwear drawer to find the most beautiful piece of lingerie you owned.

 Part of you couldn't help but wonder what Marc would say if he saw you wearing that, how he'd react, what he'd do; but you were mostly thinking about Steven both when you bought it and now that you were fastening the hooks of the lace bra behind your back. Shaking your head, you decided not to think about Marc anymore, it was simply not his business.

 When Steven opened the front door of his flat, dinner was almost done. You hugged him despite the baking powder on his apron, but he still refused to hug you back because he had food smeared all over his hands. You grabbed his chin to pull his face against yours and kissed him, but you shouldn't have. An explosion of flavour flashed through your tongue when you did, a bolt of white lightning suddenly appearing behind your eyelids. It made you moan, and in the middle of the fog, you realized Steven had sugar on his lips.

 He chuckled. One of his hands falling on your waist and keeping you against him, one of yours on his chest, your knees weak and your mind all groggy.

 "Woah... what was that?" he grinned.

 "You have sugar on your lips," you answered and squinted, pretending to be annoyed. "You did it on purpose."

 He shook his head, half incredulous, half amused.

 "No, I didn't, I was baking dessert for us."

 "...and what were you baking?"

 "Vegan cheesecake"

 You bit your lip at the thought and broke away, slowly, waiting for him to either tighten his grip against your waist or let you go. He finally opted for the latter but didn't seem entirely convinced about it. You dropped your purse on his desk without asking, as if it was already your own flat.

 "I'm going to-... yeah-the food..." he anxiously shifted in place, randomly remembering —finally— he had other things to do rather than just stand there and look.

 You couldn't help but chuckle as he walked to the kitchen space, not without looking back at least twice to check if you were following.

 "I got invited to watch you work today," you said, arms crossed over your chest. "Apparently one of the teachers is sick and they invited me to visit the museum with the ten-year-olds on Monday. They were very persistent about it."

 Steven smiled. "Sounds like good news to me."

 "Can I help you with anything?" you asked once in front of the oven, changing the subject, but he simply stirred the sauce for a second and rapidly focused his attention on something else.

 "No, no. Well- yeah... I mean, you can help me eat it-" he joked. "Not a good idea if I invite you for dinner and have you starving, right?"

 You took a spoon from one of the drawers, which seemed to catch his attention, and dipped it into the sauce. Even with the taste of sugar from his lips still camouflaging the flavour, it was delicious. You moaned for the second time.

 "Oh," he laughed. "Cheers, angel."

 All his body language shifted completely, while you stood there blinking at the new pet name, speechless. Steven squared his shoulders, looking proudly at the food, and turning off the cooker. He gave a long sigh and started serving the food.

 "I have to say I was a bit shook about this," he confessed while serving the chicken. "I've never cooked for anyone before, so I don't even know if my cooking skills are decent," he smiled. "I mean, most days I forget to have at least one of my meals, can't say that's good, can I?"

 He extended the plate at you and his smile vanished.

 "Did you just call me angel?" you asked.

 A pause, as if time had stopped.

 "Did I?" he said, leaving the plate on the counter, a nervous little laugh ripped out of his throat. "I mean- I know I did. You don't like it?" he had puppy eyes now, then turned and kept on serving the food. The plate trembled in his hand. "I won't say it again."

 "No, no. It's okay. I like it," you cooed as you caressed his cheek with your thumb. "It's okay."

 You took the plate from his hands and left it on the counter. Steven shifted in place, now facing you with sloping shoulders. The corners of his mouth turned down, his eyes glossy.

 "Hey, what's wrong?" your hands took his in yours and gave him a soft squeeze. He didn't talk. "Steven, please." he gave a long sigh and his whole weight fell against the edge of the counter. "This is not for the nickname, is it?"

 He shook his head, still with the same expression.

 "I mean-" he finally talked, his voice low. "That's part of it, yeah..." he took some deep breaths and you couldn't help but witness, your heart ached while you took his arm and stroked his forearm with your nails, then he talked. "I like you more than I should, I mean, it's only been a month and I'm all head over heels for you and I want to do so many things and- then- yeah... I don't know. I really do think you were sent for me, sometimes, like a blessing or a fate thing. I don't know. Call me cheesy if you want," he stopped, he was almost choking with his words, then he studied your reaction and resumed.

 "...after all, you appeared right in time. I was really, like really, freaking out about never being able to love anyone or never settling with anyone. I mean- I don't mean we will, I'm just saying..." he huffed, looking at the ceiling as if looking for answers. "I want to have a family, and how could I do that without a partner? And now I'm just... so scared of losing you," he brought both fists to his chest and closed his eyes "I don't know why I have this feeling that I'm going to lose you. And then I found-" he abruptly stopped and covered his eyes. He wasn't crying, not yet at least.

 "Steven. What did you find?"

 He shook his head, his fingers still covering his eyes. Then he sobbed.

 Panic surged through your veins. Your mind started rushing, a thousand questions running through it. You tried to have your breathing under control, after all, you didn't know yet what he was talking about.

 "C'mon," you felt as if an electric current had surged in your muscles and before you knew it, you were walking. You took two chairs from the table and placed them one in front of the other. Your voice shivered and broke when you said: "We're gonna fix this, Steven. I don't know what I did but," you were almost whispering to yourself, a hand ran through your hair, anxiously. “… we are."

 His cheeks were wet, yet his eyes were still fixed on yours. You tried to take his arm to guide him to have a seat but he just stopped midway and begged.

 "Please," he said, both hands on your cheeks, "calm down. Please. I don't wanna upset you. It's nothing, I just got all freaking emotional about nothing."

 His words were soothing, a sweet remedy for your nerves and doubts. If he had discovered Marc or your dealings with him, he wouldn't be caring for you the way he was .

 It felt like a bucket of cold water over your head anyway, because at that moment you realised that Steven might never forgive you if he found out about Marc. You would be losing forever the only two people you had ever loved. His words inadvertently had the opposite effect.

 You clenched your jaw and lips as your nose twitched and your eyes filled with tears. You tried to turn away so he wouldn't see you, and still, he wouldn't let you go. With his hands still on your cheeks, he forced you to look at him. He whispered words of reassurance, pleading while he asked for forgiveness. You closed your eyes tightly and the tears came.

 "Please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I didn't mean to." he said, he took you into his arms and kissed your hair. "I can't stand it. Please."

 You finally started fighting against him, getting rid of his hands and hugs and kisses. He didn't let you go at first, but then he did. You wiped your tears and sat on the chair. The feeling of dread was still present, but you repeated in your mind that you wouldn't let it happen, like a mantra. You had to focus on the present. Steven hadn't found out about Marc, as long as that didn't happen, you'd be good.

 "What did you find? Explain it to me." Your voice was so steady and cold that you surprised yourself.

 Steven nodded and went to his desk, then came back with one of his hands turned into a fist and took his seat right in front of you, his fist tight on the table.

 “I was cleaning before you came,” he said. “Before you see it I want you to know that I might have thought something I shouldn’t have when I saw it, that’s true, but I trust you. Always have. I just tend to overthink constantly and then I saw it and I shouldn't have.”

 Your breath was caught in your throat. You knew what it was even before he even showed it to you.

 Steven opened his hand and there it was, the post-it; the one Marc had left for you the first night you stayed the night in that very same flat, you had forget to take it with you when you left that day. Your eyes caught a glimpse of Steven and for a second everything felt unreal. The fact that he had cried for a note that his very fingers had written for you… and the fact that he thought you were seeing someone else, was simply overwhelming.

 Then something clicked in your brain. Everything came back to you in a second. You had to react somehow, or he’d think you were cheating on him.

 So you smiled, although you weren’t sure how it looked from other's people's eyes. You tried to chuckle, but it only came out as half a sigh, half a moan.

 “Steven… that’s what you were so worried about?”

 He didn’t look entirely convinced.

 We need to talk -Marc. The words, especially his name, felt like accusations; and wrong. They felt wrong in Steven’s hands.

 “I didn’t,” he said. “At first I thought the worst, but… it’s not what you think. I saw it and felt bad and then I realized that it was just my brain making up scenarios and giving me a sight of what I thought I was seeing, a sight that it’s probably not real. I mean- I don’t have the context…”

 You silently thanked that Steven took so long to say anything, because it helped your nerves and gave you a minute to think about what to say next.

 “… and you think I can give you context?”

 “I mean, no, you don’t owe me anything,” he shook his head. “I’d like to think that if you were seeing someone else you wouldn’t be here with me. I was… I am scared of losing you, that’s the thing. I have this sensation in the pit of my stomach that something bad is about to happen, like something really bad. And I found this and I wasn’t in a good place, mentally. That’s what I’m saying. I’m scared, but I don’t think you’re cheating. Well, would it even be considered cheating if we’re not officially dating yet?” He laughed it off, but you saw the hurt in his eyes. “I hope I was clear, because I’m not very good with words.”

 “Yeah, you were” you answered and took one of his hands in yours. You sighed happily, relieved. “Marc is a friend of mine. He’s my best friend, actually. We met in high school. He thought I was mad at him because he’s been a bit of an asshole lately. He barely answers my calls anymore and he’s one of those people who has trouble speaking his mind, being honest… the whole lot; and he left that in my purse a few hours before our date because we had a fight. I’m sorry it triggered you so much.”

 Now he seemed convinced, maybe because a big part of what you’d just said was true. Maybe the timeline wasn’t exactly correct, but all the rest was true.

 “Did you two make peace?”

 Oh, Steven. He looked just so concerned about it for no reason. He was a real sweetheart.

 “Yeah, yes, kind of,” you responded. “We talked on the phone.”

 “I’m so glad. That’s important, to talk things through... pun intended” he chuckled.

 Steven kissed your knuckles and, in a swift motion, rose up from the chair. You saw him as he placed one of the plates in the microwave. Your heart ached at the sight, at the domesticity, at all the gestures and the kindness.

 You saw the face of Marc in his features as he reheated the food. It felt wrong, the fact that you had just explained who Marc was to the face that you had grown up with, the very same face and body you had associated with Marc Spector your whole life. You felt like saying it, the truth barely hanging from your lips.

 Steven deserved to know.

 Ultimately, you decided to give Marc an ultimatum.

   A radio station was now playing in Steven's flat. None of you gave much importance to it; it had just been Steven's way of lightning up the mood while both of you had dinner. It surprisingly worked, given the fact that both of you joked about hating BBC Radio One while neither made an effort to change it. Steven would mimic Nick Grimshaw every once in a while, making you laugh and therefore laughing himself too.

 For dessert, Steven turned on the television and put on a documentary about Egyptian history. Now two half-finished plates of vegan cheesecake were left alone on top of his coffee table, while Grimshaw's voice became white noise in the background. On the sofa, you had started by sitting next to Steven with one of your legs over his knees, leaning slightly towards him as you ate the cake. But half an hour had passed and now the monotone voice of the history channel couldn't keep your attention anymore, you had both legs over his lap now; and watched him silently while stroking his hair. Then you went down, your nails barely touching his flesh as your fingers ran down the length of his arm, from the shoulder to the wrist and back up again.

 After a while, he stopped paying attention to the documentary.

 "Am I boring you?" he asked, sinking into the couch and pressing his forehead against yours. "We can watch something else."

 You shook your head. "It's fine. I like to see you all invested on the ancient world," you answered.

 "Uhmm..." he closed his eyes and sighed. "I stopped being invested a while ago, love. Plus, I thought you fancied to learn a bit about it"

 That was true, you'd asked him to give you egyptology classes.

 "Yeah," you chuckled. "I wanted you to teach me because you put so much love into it, I didn't mean watching history channel; but that's okay, I can do that too."

 Steven put the TV on mute and patted your legs on his lap signalling for you to let him go. He took a book from the large stack on his desk and when he returned to the sofa, he wrapped his arm around your legs and returned to the first position. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and held the book open with one hand.

 "Mythology’s fine?" he asked.

 You nodded. "Mythology is perfect."

 He started reading, and you occasionally stopped to ask questions. After a while, he simply opened a family tree on the first page of the book.

 "Let's get the basics first, shall we?" he mocked you, making fun at your lack of knowledge. "We can start with the Ennead. You remember what I said about it, right?"

 You nodded, he had complained profusely about the marketing campaign of the museum. It had so many gods missing, and he was fuming about it for three days.

 "Yeah," you kissed him on his jaw, unable to help yourself. "Who are they?"

 "There's nine of them," he shivered behind your touch. "Atum, Tefnut, Shu, Geb and Nut, Set, Nephthys..."

 With every name you planted a kiss on his cheek; and after a while, you realized you were now leaving kisses on his neck. Steven closed his eyes and shivered; then you stopped.

 "And the other two?" you asked him, with the most innocent face.

 Steven opened his eyes slowly, dizzy and astonished at the same time.

 "Are you having a laugh?"

 You smiled and shook your head. "Not at all, I'm interested. I really am."

 He squinted at you, then he pointed out some drawings on the family tree.

 "As I was saying... Atum, Tefnut," he said, you resumed your kisses on his neck and he made a hissing noise. "Geb, Nut, Isis... ugh." he pushed the book aside with closed eyes and you stopped.

 His eyes shot open and you asked him:

 "Why are you stopping?"

 He huffed, "I don't know, I seem to have a leech on my throat."

 A laugh erupted from you.

 "Oh, thanks for that. Really, cheers," you answered. "I wanna know the other names though. Poor deities, they are not important enough to be named."

 He squinted at you, making a face as if he had been insulted.

 "Atum, Tefnut, Isis..." he spoke quickly.

 "You already named those," you crossed both your arms. Then you started to hear new names and you brought your lips to his Adam’s apple. Steven groaned, his body trembling under your touch.

 "Alright, that's it."

 With the arm he had around your shoulders, he pushed you against him; his other palm cupping your cheek. Soon, you were breathing the same air, or rather not breathing at all. Steven kissed you hungrily, intensely. His tongue still tasted like blueberries and cheesecake, and under it, the own taste of his mouth. It sent a lightning bolt to every nerve ending of your anatomy; a single wave of pleasure straight to where you needed Steven the most. Your knees sank on the couch when you got on top of him, both of them at each side of his hips; Steven grabbed yours with a slight touch at first and nailed his fingertips on your thighs after. His kisses stopped for a second, his breath loomig over your throat. He looked at you through his eyelashes, seemingly asking for permission; just to leave a trail of lazy kisses down your throat a second later.

 Steven reached the hollow space at the end of your throat. He wetted his lips and left a kiss there. As a consequence, your hips rubbed against him, and for the first time, you noticed the prominent bulge growing against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your entrance only hid by your jeans.

 Steven groaned, his brown eyes rolling into the back of his skull for a split second.

 “Don’t stop,” you begged when his sight came back. His breath hot against your collarbone.

 His puppy eyes looked at you through his eyelashes, and his jaw tightened.

 “It’s been a long time since…” he whispered, gasping. “I’m sorry, love. I don’t know what to do.”

 His voice came out low, weak. He looked almost miserable.

 You took his face in both your hands. Steven didn't get his eyes out of you, admiring you with such love in his dark gaze that you wondered if you were seeing things. The way he eyed you, as if you hung the moon, made your heart ache.

 "Steven, your body is asking for something; give it to it," you whispered. His lips parted as he watched you, he was full of desire but unable to move. "Don't think so much. Just get what you want."

 He was trying, you could see it in the way he planted another kiss just above the neckline of your top. He was really trying; but you needed him quicker. Before he could get his hands on you, you were already taking your shirt off.

 You heard Steven's breathing change when your covered breasts fell right in front of his line of vision, the lace bra catching his attention. He swallowed loudly, his lips parted at the sight.

 "Do you always wear these?" he asked.

 You lightly chuckled, the reaction was better than anything you'd imagined. "I wish I could say I do; but no, I'm wearing it just for you."

 He bit his lower lip right before burying his face in your cleavage, leaving wet kisses on his path. One of his hands slid under the bra, your skin erupting on goosebumps all over your body; and he squeezed, applying the right amount of pressure. You took his other hand and placed it under the other side of your bra. You gasped for air and moved your hips, trying to get some relief inside your drenched, ruined underwear. Steven cried out at the contact.

 You couldn't stand the position anymore and got off, laying next to him on the couch just a second later. Steven, still fully dressed, rushed over you like a hungry beast; positioning himself between your legs and throwing the book somewhere behind him. He kissed you, wet tongue heavy inside your own mouth; oxygen kept inside your lungs because you couldn't quite breathe. Your chest seized, but you didn't care. You grabbed the dark curls at the back of his head, pushing him further as if it was possible. It was almost a breath-holding competition. And he lost, gasping for air while resting his head on your collarbone.

 "You're too dressed," you complained, tugging at the hem of his T-shirt. He took it off in one swift motion.

 When his skin made contact with yours, you realised how hot it was. He was warm, comfortable. The star of David fell cold on your skin, hanging from his neck. You ran your fingers down his chest, touching soft body hair, and became perplexed at how his muscles seemed to be both soft and rigid at the same time. He was sweating and you couldn't think about anything you wanted more than to lick the tears of sweat out of his flesh.

 Steven licked your pulse point in your neck, and you couldn't help but let out a cry.

 "You alright?" he asked, appearing again above you, fear staining his face, but you couldn't do anything else than nod. His features softened and he leaned in to taste your lips again, He was careful and tender this time.

 "Tell me what you want, Steven," you sighed, your mind clear for the first time in minutes as you realized he needed another push to keep going. His eyes lit up at the nickname. "You can have everything you want, touch anywhere you want, I'm yours tonight."

 Steven hesitated, but something awakened in him nonetheless. You saw it in the way his gaze darkened even more. He kneeled on the couch, straightening his back above you. He watched you as he slowly unbuttoned your jeans, waiting for a reaction that signalled him to stop. Your breathing became ragged and your eyes got stuck in the way he unzipped your trousers.

 "Look at me, angel," he whispered.

 His features appeared again in your field of vision, but your focus remained where Steven touched you. He slid his palm over your wet underwear.

 "Bloody hell, you're drenched," he said, his flat hand cupping all of you. "I want to touch here, can I touch here?"

 You tried to take a deep breath. "Yeah. Please, do."

 He didn't waste time. He took both your jeans and panties off, completely, without so much as getting a quick glance at the lace. He threw them somewhere on the floor. Your knees were on either side of him, so he had full access and nothing to stop him. His thumb drew circles on your clit without warning, slow-paced and watching your reaction. Steven could not, for the love of him, do anything without making sure you were okay with it.

 He then pushed a finger through your entrance, his breath getting stuck on his chest as he wondered at the sight. You were so wet that he added two right away and pumped.

 "Harder, please, Steven.”

 He obeyed, fingering you with passion. He made a face, his eyebrows frowning and his lips parted. His eyes back at you soon enough.

 "Better?" he asked. "Is that good? That's how you like it?"

 "Yes, yes," you answered, watching his perfect fingers disappear inside of you.

 Steven accommodated himself, his free hand now next to your face, supporting himself on top of you so he could be closer. His fingers reached all the right places, the exact perfect angle inside of you.

 "C-can I have another one?"

 You couldn't help but think that you sounded like him now. He chuckled softly and another finger got in. Steven had them all the way buried to his knuckles, you could feel it.

 "Of course you can," he said. Then he leaned in at your quivering form, he kissed your temple. "You look lovely right now, with my fingers inside of you. Wish you could see it."

 The words sent another wave of pleasure right to your core. The man was really good at dirty talk, even if he had barely opened his mouth. He must have felt it too, because he smiled as if he remembered an inside joke.

 You exhaled with difficulty as he moved them again, slower but deeper. You buried your nails in his shoulder, not realizing you could hurt him until he hissed. At some point amidst the fog of pleasure in your mind, he intertwined his fingers with yours, the back of your hand now useless against the fabric of the sofa.

 "I wanna taste you.”

 You thought you had imagined the words that fell from his mouth, a hallucination, although a pleasant one. After all, you couldn't quite form any rational thought at the moment. But then he stopped fingering you. Steven kneeled on the floor, took both your thighs and put them on top of his shoulders. Before you could even get adjusted to the idea and the perfect sight of Steven Grant between your legs, he gave a long lick and sucked.

 "Steven!" you cried out, getting his attention.

 He gave you a look asking for permission. Your face said it all.

 His fingers were buried in the flesh of your thighs to keep you in place. His tongue flat against your core until he started licking and doing circles, and you needed him closer. You tried to reach his hair, his face, anything, and lifted your hips slightly to meet his tongue; but he was having none of that.

 "No" he mumbled, hungrily, his breath hitching against your most sensitive part. "Stay still, please."

 One of his palms extended over your abdomen. Your orgasm starting to build up, right below his touch and threatening with tearing you apart. In the back of your mind, you marvelled at the thought that he was doing all the right things while —most probably— not having the faintest idea of what he was doing.

 You quivered as he ate you like a starving man.

 "Don't stop," you moaned, your voice strange to your own ears, an octave higher. The heat was unbearable, your orgasm making its way afloat, threatening to wreck you from the inside out. "Steven..."

 All your muscles got rigid in an instant, locked in place. A blast of pure bliss extending through every inch of your body. The ceiling vanished as your vision got clouded with black spots. The man between your legs kept his pace even then, guiding you through it, until you couldn’t keep it anymore and, becoming aware of your struggling, he stopped.

 The sight was the most twisted and beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Steven leaned his head and kissed your inner thigh with his eyes closed, the wet mark he left there, a ghost of his own lips. He rested his head on your lap and you saw it, his chin glistening with the mix of fluids under the dim light of the living room. He thought you looked lovely? He definitely did.

 “Sorry, got a bit carried away there. You taste like heaven,” he said. “Was that good?”

 Oh, this motherfucker.

 “Oh, cheers, those are lovely words” he laughed. You’d said it out loud, hissed it under your breath. “I’ll take that as a yes”

 You smiled, exhausted and satisfied. The baby hairs sticking to the surface of your skin, drops of sweat on your temples, your collarbones, the back of your knees. Steven looked down, just to close his eyes and curse under his breath.

 When you looked at him properly, you realised he was stroking himself. His black boxers down just enough to free his boner and take it into his hands.

 "Steven..." you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, as if you were trying not to scare a wild animal. "Come here, let me touch you."

 He let out a pleased sigh, his cheeks blushed. "You don't have to, really. You don't owe me anything.”

 Not only his chin was glistening under the light now, but the tip of his member was also wet enough not to need any kind of lube. Steven was big, as you had already noticed, but it was impressive to see him that way: naked, flustered, needy.

 You shook your head.

 "You're such an idiot sometimes," you responded, and pulled his arm so he'd get into a seating position next to you. "Come here, let me see how pretty you are."

 Steven held his breath even before you took his member in your hands. You stroked him once, slowly, all his muscles relaxing at the same time, his eyes rolling back into his head just to close them shortly after. He moaned your name in such a way that you wondered how he had kept himself from fucking you when he did it to you. Your own pulse throbbing in your most intimate part with every moan of his.

 "Stop, stop," he whispered, almost as if he didn't mean it; but you obeyed, even though you were just about to put him into your mouth. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

 You softly chuckled, looked at him with the most innocent face you had, "but babe… that's the point."

 He smiled with his eyes closed, "I want to... I want to be inside..." he timidly requested, not finishing a single sentence. "Can we do that? I have condoms."

 A warm sensation filled your heart. All you did was brush Steven's hair back, he was sweaty and just like that he looked amazing. He was the most angelical, sweet man you'd ever met.

 You stood, waiting for him to do the same. You took his hand when he did and walked to his bedroom space. He let you go just to get to the bedside table and fetch a condom. Your feet accidentally stood on the sand, but you didn't give importance to it and laid on the bed.

 "Should I be jealous?" you asked, as you buried your elbows on the mattress. "Who are you using them with?"

 He smiled as he walked his path back to you.

 "Well, hopefully, you." he joked, his feet covered in sand when he finally got to your spot. "I bought them this morning if that's what you're asking."

 Steven stroked himself twice before putting it on, one of his knees on the edge of the bed. And you took the opportunity to finally remove your bra. You watched him fascinated and so did he. Once he was done, you backed up on the bed and he followed, grains of sand over the white sheets. His thumb touched your entrance and circled around your clit when you gave him access. He took his member, the tip barely touching your entrance.

 "Are you sure?" he asked, mindlessly caressing the top of your thigh while he read your body language. You smiled, nodded and cupped his cheek, hoping that gave him some kind of reassurance. "Alright, stop me if it hurts, or anything, really."

 Sparks of pleasure exploded and expanded through your veins as Steven pushed slowly into you. The impossible pressure building up around your walls, knocking the air out of your lungs despite the sluggishness of his action. Closing your eyes you tried to take a deep breath.

 "...alright?" you just heard the last word of what he said, focusing on the sweet pain surging through you. He was big, indeed. And when you didn't open your eyes he ran his thumb over your lips and called your name.

 "I'm fine," you huffed between breaths, annoyed at him for stopping.

 "Sure?"

 "I can take it, Steven," you said, your heels digging into his backside, urging him to follow.

 And so he did. With one last swift movement he was completely buried in you. You watched him trying to regain his composure, but he was gasping for air as if any breath could be the last; and so were you. He bowed his head to look at the show, the place where his body and yours became one, and his lungs deflated as he groaned.

 He gave you time to adjust, barely a few seconds as you revelled in between pain and pleasure. Meanwhile, Steven licked his own thumb, circling and pinching your left nipple a moment later, the gesture sending shivers to your spine. He kissed you one last time and he pulled his hips back.

 Steven began pounding into you, slow-paced and sweet first, squeezing his eyes shut while he kept your knee around his waist. Frenetic and mindless later. With each thrust, you felt as if he could split your body in two, but you could take it, you could. You repeated it in your mind, sometimes mumbling it in a low voice as he kept his rhythm. His whole studio was filled with the noises of both your bodies crashing into each other; it was disgusting, dirty, obscene, all in the best of senses.

 Your vision became blurry at some point, and you couldn't see anything else beyond the spots in your vision. Your eyes were filled with tears; he was hitting right into your g-spot. And he clung to you as if you were the only thing anchoring him to this cruel earth. His hands were stuck in your waist, just below your ribs. You were certain you'd have bruises tomorrow, you thought as you gasped, unable to form a word or take a breath.

 "Oh, lord, look at you," he hissed as if he had cut his finger with a piece of paper. "Look at you, my goodness, look at you."

 He was completely out of his mind, repeating your name and the exact same three to four words time and time again.

 "Steve- Steven," you gasped between thrusts. "Shut up. You're-You're hyperventilating."

 He slowed his pace, finally, just for a second. He bit his lower lip and pounded once, hard; and kept the intensity.

 "Let me hyper- ugh... in peace," he said, he let out a moan that sounded like half a laugh ."You look so perfect right now, my angel, my piece of heaven...

 An orgasm was building up once more, warming every single inch of your insides. Steven drew circles over your clit as you watched his desperation, his despair, trying to get you closer. He pounded twice more and his whole body went rigid, pressing his hips against your core as far as possible, deeply buried in you; your own pleasure slowly fading as his body collapsed.

 He fell almost like a dead weight over you, somehow getting enough strength and willpower to prevent his body from crushing you.

 "You were so good, baby, so good for me," you muttered as he closed his tired eyes, his cheek against your stomach, drops of sweat falling from his temples and on your naked body. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen. "You're okay, I got you," you said, stroking his dark curls. He smiled through the pleasure. "I got you."

 "I'm sorry," he mumbled after a couple of seconds. You got annoyed at just the thought of how many times he had apologized in the last hour. "I told you I wouldn't last much."

 You shook your head and stared into his saddened eyes.

 "It's fine darling," you said. "It's our first time together, we got ourselves all worked up-... ah…"

 You sighed at the loss of contact, Steven backing up and getting himself out of you. The condom was soon tied and back into the package when he said, "let me make it up to you."

 It didn't take you long for you to come again, also in his mouth. It was difficult not to when he put so much effort into it, barely breathing through his nose. Steven didn't let go this time either, hungrily eating you out until the tears you had left in your eyes wetted your hair and stained his sheets.

 He stroked your hair, laying next to you, as you made it back from your high; hugging you and admiring you with that look of amazement perpetually on his face. He covered your naked body with his sheets and buried his nose in your neck, his breathing hot over your pulse.

 "That was so good," you gasped, looking at him as he still ran his fingers through your hair. "You're so good at it, it's mental."

 He chuckled. "Don't say that after what happened," he said, his cheeks blushing again. "I swear I'm not letting myself cum before you ever again."

 "I swear I'm gonna slap you if you don't shut the fuck up," you said.

 Steven made a gesture of zipping up his mouth. He kissed your shoulder and one of your cheeks as he cupped the other, and kept talking nonetheless.

 "Remember when I said I wanted to do so many things?" he asked. "I thought maybe we could have a weekend together. I got a flyer promoting Brighton from the museum," he said, a pang pulsed in your stomach. "Must be somewhere, probably on my wallet. I'll show you tomorrow..." he stopped then, noticing your frown. "What's wrong?"

 You shook your head slightly, your lips a thin line on your face. Your fingers played over his chest, your legs entangled with his.

 "Not Brighton, I don't wanna go there."

 His gaze softened, his gentle touch placing the baby hairs behind your ear over and over again, even though it was a lost cause.

 "Not Brighton, not the beach, or not anywhere?" he asked.

 His words directly translated into your brain, he was wondering if you simply refused to go on a weekend getaway with him.

 "Just not Brighton."

 He gave a long sigh. "We can easily fix that, I've heard Bournemouth or Torquay are really nice at this time of the year."

 You smiled, your eyes half-closed, and he mirrored you.

 "You might not want to hear it," he said, slurring his words. "Because it's too soon, whatever people mean by that, but I really do love you and can't wait to see what we build together."

 You giggled softly with your eyes closed, your mind quickly drifting off and into the darkness.

 "I love you, Steven Grant."

 His fingers drew circles on your back, half your body on top of him. You felt him shift underneath, kiss your temple one last time. Then you noticed the warm heat of his comforter above your naked shoulders.

 "Sleep tight, love."

   Next thing you know, a loud thud woke you up.

 Your eyes opened to Steven half-dressed, a pair of navy boxers hiding his perfect arse from you. He muttered something under his breath, his voice an octave deeper. You saw him intend to pick up the books he'd just knocked off, but left them on the floor just before he reached them instead. He put one of his fists between his teeth, you saw it in the reflection on the window. The muscles in his back trembled as if he was silently crying.

 "Steven..."

 He jumped in place, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. He didn't turn.

 "Put your clothes on and get the fuck out of my house," the American accent harsh, his voice even deeper than Steven's usually was in the morning.

 But he was not Steven anymore, and it was certainly not morning yet.

 Your heart sank inside your ribs, the air suddenly knocked out of you. You jolted upon a seating position, dragging the white sheets to your chest so you didn't feel as exposed as you were. Marc let out a sarcastic laugh from where he was, walking toward the living room. When he came back he threw your clothes on the bed without saying a single word. If you weren't awake before, now you were.

 "I don't know why you're even trying to cover yourself," he said, words sharp like a knife.

 Pain flooded through your veins, a knot growing in your chest and throat that didn't quite let you breathe. You let the sheets down and they fell off you. Your jeans were cold when you reached for them, the fabric suddenly felt dirty on your hands. All your limbs were heavy when you got out of bed, your own weight too heavy for your knees to hold.

 Marc didn't even give you a glance, he just took a pair of grey joggers from a drawer and stood there, eyes fixed on the door, hands on his hips, while his mind sailed far away from that room. With a new pain blooming in your chest now, you guessed that was how getting shot must have felt.

 "No words, uh?" he turned finally, just when you had finished zipping your jeans, only the bra covering your breasts. His face was red and contorted into a grimace, half pain, half disgust.

 You clenched your jaw until your teeth hurt. You hadn't said anything because you didn't find the words, and couldn't figure out what he was thinking either. It hurt even more that fact, to realize that the person you had known your whole life, the same person you shared so many memories, inside jokes and a whole inner language with, the best friend you once only needed a look to share an opinion with, was now unreadable to you.

 The sole idea that he woke up and, oblivious to him, you were naked laying on his bed was horrible, to say the least. He'd said once, a long time ago, that he considered you the sister he never had. You couldn't even begin to think how violent it was for him to be in this situation.

 "I- I don't know..."

 "Don't cry," he said, a disgusted look on his face as he turned away from you. "Don't do that, seriously. It's pathetic."

 You touched your face to find that your cheeks were wet. Somehow, you hadn't noticed before. His words, on the other hand, felt like a knife impossible to escape from. Your tears were obvious and falling without control now. If he was planning to murder you with insults a disgusted looks, you'd rather have the final blow now.

 "Marc," you said, following him as he walked to the living room and then, the kitchen. "Let's talk about this."

 "No."

 First, he turned off the radio, the low whisper of music coming to an end.

 "Marc, please. I can explain..."

 It didn't matter how much you begged, because he wouldn't hear you. A hot rush of adrenaline ran through your veins before that realization, your fingers trembled over your arms while you hugged yourself. Marc circled the sofa and took the remote of the coffee table, the history channel finally turned off.

 "What happens when he wakes up in the morning, uh?" you tried to reason with him. "He's a human being, Marc. What happens then?"

 "That's the only thing you care about, uh," he said, jaw clenched. "Him. Well, I don't fucking care. You didn't care about me either."

 "You know that's not true."

 Marc pursed his lips, taking his angry stare away from you. His pupils danced around the empty space, as if he was trying to find somewhere to hide. Then he saw something, his whole face shifting to one of pure disgust once again, his kuckles turning a concerning shade of white as he clenched them. Your heart fluttered in your mouth when you followed his eyes, finding a wet stain on the fabric of the couch.

 Your whole perception of reality was shattered as you covered as much of your exposed flesh as you could. It happened so quickly that your mind didn't even acknowledge his actions until all of it was over. When you opened your eyes again, the couch was upside down, the coffee table shattered, the floor covered in sharp pieces of glass. He had throw it as if it was as light as a feather.

 Taking as many steps backwards as you could, you hit the kitchen counter. All the scene felt like a nightmare, in fact, you prayed that it was a nightmare. There was no way in hell that was Marc, Marc would never be so violent, but the other option was even more impossible.

 It was as if time had stopped. Marc turned around, looking for you, his whole body visibly less tense. And he found you trying to hide yourself, become one with the black shadows of the kitchen.

 "(Y/N)," your heard him mutter. "(Y/N), what are you doing? Come here."

 "You're out of your mind, Marc," you said.

 He stopped in his tracks and put a hand to his stomach, as if he had been shot. "I'm sorry. I really am. I blacked out. It's just a couch, I'd never hurt you. I won't hurt you."

 Tears streamed down your face, worse than before. You tried to cover them up just as faint sobs arose out of your chest, and Marc sprinted to your spot in the kitchen. He hugged you, his strong arms embracing all of you, his warm calloused hands on your back.

 "I'm so sorry," he said, his chest trembling behind your ear, his heart on a cruel race without a finish line. "Don't be scared, please. Don't be scared of me."

 His beg awakened something in you, the part of you that had always wanted to protect Marc Spector from everything and everyone. It was a silent throb in your chest, a painful one. It had always been like this, after all, you were his protector even if it didn't look like that.

He had always been there for you. He picked you up with his dad's car when you went out partying, he made sure you didn't drink too much when both of you hanged out together without other people, he was the shoulder you'd cry on when something bad happened, even if he could only speak on the phone because he was so many miles away from you. And still, you were the only one who saved him; even if you didn't know that yet.

 His sobbing eventually came to a stop, the same as yours. Your fingers were buried in his curls, running your fingers through his hair. Your cheek was against his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed. The star over the hollow space between his collarbones shone.

 "Can we talk now?" he pleaded, to which you just nodded.

 He took a step back, his face a sad stare far away from where his body was currently standing. He blinked a few times, his eyes fluttering as if he was trying to see something in the darkness.

 "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

 It felt like magic at the time, because as soon as he said it, a burning but faint pain crawled up on your shoulder. Marc stretched his arm behind you, reaching for the light switch in the kitchen. Bright yellow light engulfing the whole space. Then you pulled your stare back down at your shoulder; there were small cuts there, maybe a handful of them barely bleeding, a single drop of blood in many of them. Some glass splinters must have grazed you, but nothing was stuck there and you almost didn't notice, so that's what's important.

 Marc, on the other hand...

 "Marc, look at you..."

 You couldn't help but stare at his arms, he had at least a dozen of them, not bleeding enough to bleed out or get stitches or staining the floor, but enough to have a few paths of half-dried blood down his arms and definitely worse than the ones you had. Even though this was without a doubt his fault, you couldn't bring yourself to be mean to him; and Steven didn't deserve waking up with infected cuts, so you got a first aid kit from the bathroom and two pairs of flip flops because you were both still barefoot and half naked.

 "Where's your shirt?" he asked when you were back, gathering everything from the kit and arranging them while he was sitting and resting his arm on the dinning table. "I didn't see it."

 Taking a look around, you saw the piece of fabric on the floor. It was barely a dark stain under the couch.

 "Shit, I didn't see it there," he said, then got up. "I'm goona get you something."

 "Sit down, Marc."

 He's not one who likes orders, never has been, but the look you gave him said it all. Marc didn't even think about it, he just sat down again as if you had hit his rewind button. His lips parted, he breathed in, as if to say something, but then his mouth shut again and he allowed you to patch him up.

 The cuts weren't deep, and there was only a single, small shard on his biceps not deep enough to worry about. He took it out with his fingers before you could get the tweezers. You bandaged his arm in white gauze while scolding him. A little smiled appeared on his lips while he watched you get all worried for him.

 "Steven's gonna freak out when he wakes up," you said, finally breaking up the uncomfortable silence after a couple of minutes.

 "Yeah... he will, in a couple of days," he watched you frown and explained. "I have somewhere to be over the weekend. I'll be back on sunday, probably."

 "With Layla?"

 He huffed throuh the nose. "No, not with Layla. Why does everything have to do with Layla?"

 "I don't know," you shrugged. "I really don't have any idea of why you'd have to be anywhere. You quit the military, Steven provides for you, and you don't talk to Layla anymore-"

 "It's complicated."

 You pressed the cotton harder against the last cut visible. He hissed.

 "You always say that."

 He bit the inside of his cheek, in his face a look of desperation.

 "I said I'll tell you, can't you trust that either?" he said. You watched him hesitate for a second, but finally talked. "I did trust you, though, and look where it got us."

 You had just finished putting on the last band-aid, his left arm half covered in white gauze. Your body jumped out of the chair, unable to keep your muscles still anymore. The moonlight kissed your features as you supported yourself against the closed window frame.

 Guessing it made no sense to hide anything anymore, because you'd lost them both either way, you decided there shouldn't be any more lies between you and them.

 "Can you blame me, Marc?" you gasped, turning back to him and suddenly out of breath at the thought of what you were about to do. "Can you blame me for falling in love with someone who's charming and fun and looks exactly the same way as you? Someone who, apart from being a wonderful person, has all your best characteristics and isn't even a fraction of how much of a prick you are?"

 You ran a hand through your hair and pulled your stare away. Your chest was tight, but you refused to cry anymore. It had been enough.

 "I've loved you for so long... I've loved you for so long" you repeated, looking up at the ceiling of his home; you weren't sure you could bear the look of pity in his eyes.

 The weight fell from your shoulders inmediately after your confession. You felt so light that you wondered how had you lived until then with such a heavy burden on your back.

 "How did any of us expect this to work?" you asked, but didn't think he'd answer.

 "I wonder the same thing."

 Even if you thought he meant he regretted asking you for that favor, that arrangement, when you looked at him you bumped into his sorrowful gaze; he wasn't blaming you, he was genuinely wondering.

 "He loves you so much, and I should have known." he said.

 You crossed your arms in front of him, his sight back up again to meet yours. Curiosity and bewilderment loomed over you, there was something you were not seeing, something he was not saying.

 "You couldn't have known, Marc," you reassured him, although you guessed he didn't deserve any comfort right now. "You couldn't."

 He chuckled. It was a bitter one, little more than a long, defeated sigh. His face contorted into a grimace, his gaze turning into a thousand-yard stare, looking at the couch on his left side. His jaw clenched, the jawline sharp and visible.

 "Are you not going to ask me how I know how much he loves you?" Marc asked, eyes still unfocused as he watched you. "I told you last time I saw you, but you didn't listen."

 Memories flooded in front of you, your grasp on reality leaving your mind. Last time... what had he said last time?, you asked yourself. The whole interaction happened again, the angry stare of his, the accusations, the rain soaking his jacket and wetting your hair. He had said he knew how he felt, because he could feell it too.

 "I did listen. You said you could sense his feelings."

 Another laugh without humor, without sense. He stood up, walked a few steps in your direction almost in slow-motion, as if he was trying not to scare a wild animal in need.

 "I did not say that."

 The realization hit you then, and everything made sense in your mind. It was so sudden that you felt absolutely overwhelmed. All the worry, the threat of him, all of it made sense, like some kind of twisted puzzle whose image you couldn't make sense of before.

 You backed off, your back hitting the closed window. Marc's features shifted from sadness to concern in a split second as he tried to make his way to you. He whispered your name.

 "Marc?" you said, as if you were threatening him with his own name. You pointed at him, your index finger jabbed him in his chest once he was mere inches away from your face. You could feel his warmth, his smell the same as Steven, the red-stained bandages rubbing your hip by accident when he went to cup your cheek. You got out of his way, almost smacking your head against the window by accident. "Have a long, hard think about your next words. I mean it, Marc."

 His lips parted, his breathen uneven, his face turned into a look of dismay. He looked miserable from where you were and after all he had done and said tonight, you still wanted to comfort him.

 He watched you as if he was a lost man and you were the only map he could find, but also the only one he wanted.

 "I don't have to think anything," he said. "I've thought about my feelings long enough, I'm tired. I just want to feel them, not think-"

 Your palm burnt when you slapped him, his face turning an angry red almost instantly. You were certain it had hurt you more than it'd hurt him.

 "You piece of shit," you spat. He turned his face back to you, licking the blood flowing from his lower lip. "Who the hell do you think you are? You come here, you insult me, and now this."

 You turn away from the window, practically pushing him away as you walked. He follows you with his eyes, a hand wiping off the blood from his face.

 "If this is you trying to-"

 "This is me trying nothing," he said, stern look on his face. "This is me trying to be damn honest."

 "This is you trying to get me away from Steven, that's what it is," you said, walking back to where he was. "This is not funny. Do you have any idea how much I've suffered for you?" you anxiously ran a hand though your hair. "Why do you hate me so much, Marc? When I'm finally happy again, you try to take that away from me. What have I done?"

 He clenched his jaw for a few seconds, and you waited with your hands turned into fists. Under the yellow light of the kitchen you witnessed how his eyes welled up with tears.

 "Why do I even try?" he breathed, a single tear falling from one of his eyes. "You don't understand anything, do you?" he asked. "I've loved you for so long, and I couldn't say anything. I thought this was what you wanted..." he stopped, mindlessly biting the wound on his lip and grimacing. "Steven and I might seem like different people but we are actually just a fracture of the same mind. He loved you from the very first moment he saw you, because I loved you too. He's just better at showing it than I am."

 You shook your head, your heart sinking in your chest.

 "That's not true."

 "He did say you felt familiar, right? Why do you think that is? He's seen you before."

 "No." you shook your head again. "Shut up, I don't wanna hear you."

 Your stomach flicked in it's place, the room suddenly too small. You walked back to the bedroom, looking for another window that you could open and try to get some air into your lungs, some logic and reasoning into your mind if possible, too.

 "You remember him, don't you?" he shouted as you walked away, the sound of his voice following you. "In Brighton, do you remember him?"

 The final blow was brutal, merciless. You barely reached the wall when your knees started trembling. Brighton was the place where everything started to go wrong. It was the night when your life and Marc's separated, the day you stopped almost instantly seeing your best friend everyday. The day your plans for the future were wrecked, the day your Marc left and never came back the same, the day you became lonely and grew up into an even lonelier adult. If he already was a somewhat timid and quiet person, he came back from war even worse, but also as a dark, sarcastic and stubborn man. You had dreaded that place and that day for years, decades. You had cried and mourned the person you could have become and the happy memories you would never have.

 "Breathe," Marc said as he caught your shoulders, hugging you from behind. "I know it's hard but you need to breathe."

 A sob broke out of your throat, and he held you as your knees gave up. Rather than try and pick you up, he kneeled on the floor too. The sand became an uncomfortable pain on your flesh, but it didn't hurt as much as you heart. Marc kissed your hair, your temple, he whispered something you could not hear above the blood running behind your ears. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rolled down your face.

 "I can't breathe-"

 "Yes, you can. Look at me," he said, but you didn't.

 He manoeuvred your body so that you were now sitting against the wall. He put your head between your knees and stood up for a millisecond to open the window. Then he sat in front of you.

 "In and out, in and out" he squeezed your hand, trying to give you some kind of comfort through the attack, while he himself breathed loudly trying to guide you. "That's it, baby. You're doing so good."

 A long and painful minute followed, but even though he himself had been the cause, in a way, the fact that it was Marc who helped you was enough to make it a little bit easier. At the end, it eased enough to for you to look at him again. Your lashes were wet and full of tears, but you could finally talk to him again.

 "That's good," he muttered to himself. He gave a relieved sigh. "You're okay now."

 "When did you realize?" you finally whispered, feeling your whole body numb and tired, but you needed to know. The need was stronger than the tiredness, and you deserved it after so many years.

 "What thing?"

 Your words came out barely a whisper.

 "...that you loved me."

 He shook his head, his frown a concerned one. "You don't need to hear that now."

 "I deserve it Marc," you said. "I deserve it."

 He looked at you as if asking for permission to an unconscious part of your brain, seemingly making sure that you were not going to break again.

 "In my wedding with Layla," he said, he bit the inside of his cheek. "I married her because I thought I had finally met someone I liked more than I liked you, but all I felt was affection; not love," he said. "I was full of guilt and I thought that if I couldn't have you, I might as well mary someone who I owed something to. I was convincing myself that I loved her because of that, but I didn't."

 "What did you owe her, Marc?"

 "(Y/N), please..." he begged. "It's going to hurt, and you're going to hate me."

 A wry laugh came out of your mouth. "I already hate you." you said. "And I'm already hurt."

 A solid minute passed in silence. Marc knew he would earn your hatred for life after that, he knew you would never want to see him again. And you had been the only constant in his life for so long that he couldn't bring himself to face those odds. But in the end, he did.

 "I went work-for-hired after I got discharged from the military, for my old commanding officer. The job was to raid an Egyptian tomb. Layla's father was an archaelogist there, and my superior changed his mind and wanted no witnesses. I tried to save them all, but I couldn't."

 Every word felt like a stab, but tonight you seemed to get used to that, and you were so tired that you couldn't feel anything anymore.

 "You lied to me. You never told me you got discharged. Marc, you became a mercenary."

 He seemed not to react at the word, but you knew it hurt him. Good.

 "You would have asked me why, why I was still out of the country too," he said. "And I didn't wanna lie to you so I just omitted the truth. After what happened in that tomb, I was so... just so tired... I almost died, he shot me and I was in the middle of nowhere with a pile of bodies around me; but I survived," he said, then his eyes looked at you with longing and tears. "All I wanted was to come back to you, and I did. It was your birthday," he smiled and the tears fell from his eyes. "I hated that music but you loved The Killers and I loved being there with you, and I loved being alive."

 You got flashes of that day. You had always wondered why he had suddenly decided that he liked that music, and how clingy he was for weeks after that. He said they had given him another job in England.

 "You've lied to me... for so long?" your voice almost a whisper.

 "I am so sorry."

 "You keep saying that, Marc," you said, your voice with so much disgust and hatred in it that it surprised even yourself; but you couldn't help it. "I felt dirty, all this time lying to Steven, and then here you are, telling me all of this and saying how much you love me as if it mattered now."

 The expression in his face changed, and even then you weren't angry, because you couldn't bring yourself to feel anything.

 "I hate you, Marc," you finally said. "You ruin everything you touch. You ruined Layla's life, you ruined mine, and you're ruining Steven's. You should be ashamed of yourself," then the final words came out, as a wrecking ball ready to end it all. "This is all your fault, Marc. You got yourself into all of this. I hope you die with the guilt."

 His body froze. You saw it, the exact second in which his mind stopped functioning like a toy being turned off. He fell backwards, his back hitting the bed behind him. He gasped for air, his lips parted while he was still looking at you, with those dark brown eyes devoid of all life.

 "Steven and I..." you muttered. "...We could have been happy. Tell him that when you talk to him, he will hate you as much as I do."

 You weren't sure how, but now you seemed to have enough strength to maybe get home. You were certainly not staying there with him. And with that in your mind, you stood up from where you were and walked to the kitchen for the last time; leaving the limp body of Marc Spector behind you. Silently looking at everything, you tried get that flat burned in your brain as much as you could, because despite all of your plans for the future with Steven unravelling and ending out of nowhere, you still had your best memories in that flat with him, with Steven.

 But you couldn't do that anymore.

 On the chair, you took your jacket; you didn't want anything that belonged to Marc, not even if his shirts smelled like Steven. And before putting it on, you walked to the window and had a glance at the night sky; the full moon shining up there.

 "Oh, my, god."

 The british accent felt like a punch to the gut. The words reverberating in all the walls and into your ears made you uneasy. Was this nightmare of a night ever going to end? Your stomach turned at the thought of seeing Steven now, you wondered if you'd be able to look him in the face, to see past Marc's features staining his face like bleach. It made you wonder if you even had food in your stomach to throw up.

 He ran, literally ran to the kitchen. His eyes shot open before the debris of the coffee table and the couch; but his expression seemed to get relieved at the sight of you. He took your hands in his once he was in front of you. You felt disgusted at the thought of those hands with weapons and blood in them, but didn't have the heart to do anything else than let him hold them.

 "W-What happened?" he said, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

 He was frightened, that you could tell; but you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't tell him it was okay, because it wasn't. It would never be okay again. You had dreaded this day for a month, and in every kiss you found the bitter taste of the future, but now you couldn't do anything else than leave Marc alone to fix his shit. Maybe then he would become a person again, maybe even a decent one.

 "Please say something," he begged, tears in his eyes; but you didn't know what to do, what to say. You didn't want to hurt him, it wasn't his fault to be a part of Marc's fractured mind. "Please tell me you're okay, tell me I didn't hurt you. Please."

 Then, his eyes caught a glimpse of your wounds, those that were not covered yet, on your shoulder for everyone to see. And you were suddenly walking to the door again.

 "No, no, no," he said, following you and pulling your wrist gently, gentler than anything Marc had done.

 "Let me go, Steven, let me go." you whispered, it sounded more like a plea, like a cry, than anything remotely close to what you intended.

 "Listen- Listen to me, listen to me for a second, will ya?" he said, now in front of you, his eyes locked on yours, both his hands in your cheeks. "You can hate me all you want. Bloody hell, you can leave now and I won't bother you ever again. I just need to know you're alright, love. Please, I only care about that. Please."

 Your chin trembled, the wound in your chest open once again, bleeding and with no sign of getting healed ever again. He was so desperate, and he had no idea what was happening. You felt devastated at the thought that he had simply fallen asleep after an incredible night with you, and had woken up to find his arms bandaged, his flat wrecked and his girlfriend dumping him.

 "I'm fine, baby," your voice broke, your tears fell again.

 He hugged you tight, his strong arms trying not to hurt you, his face trying not to touch the small cuts in your shoulder.

 "I'm so sorry-" he cried. "I'm so freaking sorry. I'm sorry," he said. "I forgot the restraints, I'm such a fucking mess."

 You pulled away from the hug, just enough to kiss his temple, squeezing your eyes shut because you knew it would be the last.

 "Let me take care of that, alright?" he said, getting your hair out of the cuts. His fingers trembled when he did. "I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry," his breathing uneven.

 "I have to go, Steven. Please, let me go."

 He covered his mouth and sobbed. His chest inflating and deflating as he weeped; and you couldn't help but keep crying with him. You hugged him, because he needed it and you did as well, and all of this wasn't even his fault.

 "Please tell me this is a nightmare," he begged, looking for answers in your eyes. "...or a joke, anything. Just-"

 You shook your head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry this happened to you, but I cannot stay. I can't do this anymore."

 Despite the whimpers and the harsh truth, he still nodded.

 “I understand,” Steven said, calmly, so calm that you feared for his psyche. “You can’t do this anymore, I understand.”

 “Steven," you begged. "Don't do this to yourself."

 "No, but I do get it," he nodded again. "I do get it, love. I knew this would happen. It's just... we could have been happy, you know that, right?"

 It was karma, it had to be. Steven had hurt you with the same words you had hurt Marc with. There was no other way, one in which it wasn't whatever god out there giving you back all the pain you had caused him. But you didn't need to be punished, your torment was already this whole mess of a situation.

 "I know," you said.

 He took your hands in his, kissed your knuckles; and then leaned in and kissed your shoulder.

 "I promise you, I'll get help, I'll get rid of this curse. And then, if you want, I'll come for you. I'll give you the happy ending you deserve. I'll give you all the kisses and all the happiness, all the memories and all the kids if you want that too. You're the only heaven, the only one out there for me. I hope you know that."

 Your lips parted, the knot in your throat tight and relentless. You didn't know what to say, except the only thing left.

 "I love you Steven Grant."

 Only twice you had ever said those words. The first, happily in his bed, making plans for the future, loving him in every way a person can be loved. The last one, you were breaking his heart; leaving him behind with questions and doubts, believing a lie that he had told himself so many times throughout the years that he had finally believed it: that he didn't deserve to be loved.

Part 2

[andraxicated]

tw: assasin stuff | fluff

a/n: lololol nanami ♡♡♡♡♡ he's so funny without doing anything

bye this was supposed to be a short drabble but><

thinking about...

spy x family au! spy nanami x assassin reader! w/ a baby yuuji on the side <3

but it's this nanami:

the first thought you had was: "wow. he's so cool😍" you never felt such a strong pull of attraction for anyone! the moment his head turned slowly to you; the gates of heaven opened, the angels started singing and you're thinking: "I have to have him"

it's perfect, if you guys are married then the secret police won't be suspicious of a single woman like you. and so, you follow him into the bakery, taking note of the bread he orders.

"excuse me, why are you staring at me?" the man asks which takes you by surprise. 'he noticed it? I'm getting sloppy!' you snapped out of your daydream, fingers fidgeting from the intensity of his stare.

"um I like your hair" (I like ya cut g) you say bashfully while biting your lip, it's as if you're confessing.

that was the moment nanami decided to marry you. finally someone who actually liked his hair! he wanted to go down on one knee, ask for your hand, imagining that you'd say yes—

"yes!" his daydream cloud goes poof as this pink haired kid shouts excitedly. his 'son' that is a telepath unbeknownst to him.

yuuji is excited at the prospect of having a mother, looking at you you're pretty too! 'a pretty mother!'. the fact that a kid has to help these adults go on a date, how pathetic.

"manami, who are those guys?" you ask in a soft voice, looking at the car that's furiously following you both. suddenly, it bumps into your ride which takes both of you by surprise.

'oh shit' "it's my *cough* clients"

his clients from the warehouse heist earlier.

"clients?"

"I'm a dancer. they're asking for my autograph"

it's like electricity traveled through your body, your heart beating as you fall deeper and deeper in love.

"I knew it! you're a dancer! the hair makes sense! they must be your super fans since they're going so far just to see you. im glad your work is going so well."

nanami doesn't know if you're an idiot or just acting dumb, but either way, he's thankful for it.

"why are these clients so aggressive?!" you ask him as you kick a man into a wall. this made you put your hands over your mouth, yourself surprised from the uncontrollable strength. "oops! i'm sorry! i don't know any dancing techniques but i tried my best!"

saying nanami is amazed would be an understatement, he's beguiled💖. 'what a strong woman' he says in his head as he's busy marveling at your beauty and strength. you huff, fixing your messy hair until nanami pulls you to hide from the rain of bullets.

"this way!" nanami holds your hand to escape when the goons desperately refill their guns. you think you're the one who should protect manami, but you're lost in the adrenaline rush of 'dancing' in an alleyway. this was a performance you'll never forget.

it's now or never. he's the most aesthetic man you've ever seen, you have to have him.

"manamiletsgetmarried" your lips blurt out like some kind of code that he successfully deciphered. he clearly heard you and well...he tripped. he stands up with a smiley face, checking his pockets for the diamond ring he snatched earlier, but it's gone with his pockets blown out. 'damn' he goes back to his stoic facade.

"ohmy! manami—" "lady I accept you"

however, the romantic moment gets cut off by the never-ending swarm of goons that has their patience pushed to the limit. they resort to pulling out the big guns that nanami has no choice but to pull his not-so-aesthetic explosive disco ball.

'ok fuck let's go'

"I take thee (y/n)" —'gosh you're so cute'

he's looking down at your crouched, hidden figure; bright eyes looking intently back at his. nanami felt his cheeks heat up from the thought, but he quickly shakes them off.

"for better or for worse, for richer or poorer..." he separates the explosive and the lid, his mind already calculating the exact time and the projectile of the bomb.

"in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health..." he slides the round lid on your finger, like a budget prop for a surprise roleplay. don't worry, he has plans to give you a diamond ring next time, but that'll have to do for now.

💣BOOM💥 — side mission complete. now onto the main for the night...

"I pledge myself to you." nanami says in his sexy voice that produces butterflies in your tummy. he's so hot you need help getting up after this 'cause your knees are weak.

'until my killing...' this is it, you won at life, those bitches at your workplace can now shut up. you bagged a gorgeous man, a talented dancer. what an achievement. and he just got down on one knee tonight in the most romantic way to propose ever.

'until my mission...' once nanami realized he was acting all suave, he cringed so hard but okay. he has to do this for the sake of the mission. he would be lying if tonight wasn't the best night in his entire life yet.

'...do we apart'

no turning back for nanami kento and (y/n) (l/n)

THE END

[the-diabolist]

Mason in the game room with the shotgun

I just want Mason to breed me (afab, not a girl) and Derek so bad

Kinktober 2022, day 17 - how did Derek end up in this situation? I don't know! Also, uh, I was super mean to him again. Oops!

c.w: afab reader, threesome (kinda), breeding, orgasm control (for Derek), bit of size difference (it's Mason lol), creampie, Mason as a soft dom, hard dom, and brat tamer all in one! 1.2k

"Come on," he says, tugging at your shirt, "he's not going to care."

"Yes he will," you argue, trying to bat away his hands, get his face out of the crook of your neck, and squirm out from underneath him all at the same time. "Get off me!"

"No," he says, pinning your hands above your head with one of his while the other one roughly gropes your breasts, "give it up, I'm horny."

Just as he's shoving the hem of your shirt up over your collarbones, a large hand closes suddenly around the back of his neck, causing him to freeze and tense.

"Are ya now?" Mason's deep voice rumbles. You hadn't even heard him come home. "S'pose I can help you with that, if yer gonna be so demanding about it."

"I, uh," Derek sputters, sweating bullets, but he doesn't have a chance to continue - Mason yanks him off of you by the scruff of his neck and pins him over the edge of the bed.

"It was all his idea," you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Derek's flushed face, which is currently half-pressed into the mattress. Your chest is still bare, and you make no attempt to cover up.

"I know, darlin' - you're a good little pet," Mason purrs, fingers tightening until Derek winces and lets out a squeak.

"... doesn't belong to you," Derek chokes out in a growl, "could fuckin' share, you goril-"

Mason lifts him off the bed and then slams him back down; Derek whimpers.

"Hm. Seems like this one needs a bit more taming," he says, letting Derek up again only to shove him across the room, toward the wooden chair in the corner. He stumbles into it, barely keeping his footing on the way. "Sit. Don't move your arms off the armrests."

Derek scowls, looking mutinous, but keeps his mouth shut and his arms resting at his sides, as instructed. Once assured of his obedience, Mason turns back toward you and crooks a finger. You cross the bed toward him with an easy smile, pulling your shirt the rest of the way over your head as you go, and sit on the edge in front of him, legs spread on either side of his hips.

"Blondie thinks I oughta share," he says, cupping your jaw in one large hand, "do you agree?"

You shake your head and bite your lip, gazing up at him lustfully. He laughs.

"Good. Lay back, show him what he misses out on when he misbehaves."

You lay back on the mattress, tilting your head to throw Derek (now actively sulking) a teasing look while Mason begins tugging off your bottoms. He flips you off as best he can without moving his arms. You look back up at Mason, towering above you, just in time to catch him rubbing his thumb over the wet patch on your underwear.

"I like it when you discipline Derek," you say, sighing as large palms smooth over your bare thighs, "he deserves it. Actually... I bet you'd be a good father."

"Oh yeah?" He rumbles softly, unbuckling his belt. "Ya wanna make me one? Show blondie exactly how much you belong to me?"

You nod again, eyes going half-lidded.

"Yeah," you breathe, "put a baby in me, big guy."

That seems to be the magic phrase, because he's pushing forcefully inside you almost before you finish speaking, making you gasp.

Derek releases some kind of choked growl - you don't pay him any attention, but Mason pauses to shoot him a withering glare. You hear the chair creak, as if Derek is gripping it for dear life.

Mason continues to advance until he's seated, stretching you overwhelmingly full as usual - and he doesn't stop to let you adjust, either, instead beginning to piston his hips immediately. His strokes start slow and deep, but they speed up quickly, and before long you're moaning and clutching the sheets as your body rocks helplessly back and forth.

"Gonna stuff you full," he growls, his grip on your thighs bruising, "you'll look so good, all nice 'n' round with my kid."

"Yes, yes, please," you whine. Derek groans from his chair, and you look over just in time to see him roughly fisting his cock, eyes locked on you - specifically, on your bouncing tits. Mason catches it too.

"Didn't say you could touch yerself," he snarls; Derek startles, hand quickly returning to the armrest with a whine of his own.

"C- c'mon," he pleads, eyes shining with unshed tears of desperation, "I'm so - "

"Didn't say ya could talk either," Mason cuts him off sternly. Amazingly, his pace stutters only a little throughout this exchange. "If I gotta stop what I'm doin' to deal with you, you'll regret it." Derek lets out a defeated sob, and Mason returns his attention to you, marked by increasingly harder thrusts. "I'm tryin' to breed someone here, ya know."

You moan again at that, and Derek makes a helpless, angry sound. Mason's hips start to stutter in earnest, in a way that's familiar to you; knowing what's coming (specifically: him), you tilt your pelvis upward as much as possible, reluctant to spill even a drop of his release, and you slide your fingers down to rub your clit, too, for good measure.

You climax before him, but not by much. He follows as soon as your walls begin to pulse, filling you up with warmth just like he promised. As you ride out your aftershocks, you can hear Derek panting and whining. You glance over at him - he looks angry, and desperate, and more than a little broken. His cock is weeping and painful-looking, and his knuckles are white from gripping the chair.

"Please - can I please... I need a turn, or - or something, anything, I'm - " he's babbling, breath choked with the frustrated tears now running down his face.

Ignoring Derek for the time being, Mason pulls out slowly, watching to make sure none of his contribution is wasted; you do feel a small trickle, but he shoves it back in with his fingers. He grabs a pillow, lifts your hips, and shoves it under them to keep you at an angle.

"Stay just like that," he rumbles to you. You give him a loving smile and a thumbs-up. Finally, he turns toward Derek. "Yeah, yeah, you'll get a turn, settle down... just gimme a few minutes to recover, and then you'll need prepped - and if you can be good through all that, I'll get ya taken care of. Hell," he chuckles, "maybe I'll breed you too."

You shoot Derek a thumbs-up as well, endorsing Mason's ability to get a person taken care of (jury's still out on his breeding ability). Ignoring you completely, he despairs, head drooping with a sob. For his sake, you hope he can make it - he's being so pathetic, you can't help but feel bad for him, even if he brings it on himself.