#quotes that made me chuckle the second time around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

floweringlee · 17 days ago

Text

Come to my Office Max Verstappen X Reader

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: Fingering, oral (m&f receiving), biting, shaming, degrading, probably a lot more that I forgot to name.

Word Count: 4.4k

Notes: This is my first time writing smut like this and it took me a bit of courage to even post this so enjoy

Max Verstappen always had his eye on you. How could he not? You were one of the most precious jewels he had ever laid eyes on. He wouldn’t admit that out loud, of course. Not to anyone else besides himself anyway. Granted, he never had to admit it because everyone already knew. To him, you were his precious little wallflower that no one else could touch, blissfully unaware that he’d been watching you. Stalking you like prey. The last person who even thought about looking in your direction hadn’t shown up to work the next day. They claimed Red Bull wasn’t the right fit for them anymore.

You hummed softly as you wrote down the next meeting details in your notebook, its cover adorned with stickers, a chaotic mix of stars, planets, and little motivational quotes. Your boss was going on about Max’s next performances in the upcoming races, but you barely heard the words. Your mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was drawn to the man sitting across the room, just a few desks away.

Max’s voice, smooth and controlled as ever, had a way of drawing you in. He was speaking to someone, probably another colleague but you couldn’t help the way your gaze drifted toward him. He was wearing his usual aloof expression, the one that seemed like it could slice through steel, but you knew better. Beneath it all, he had a quiet intensity, one that he only ever showed to those who had earned his trust. And somehow, over the past year, you had earned it.

You had always been diligent when it came to watching him. It was hard not to think Max had an aura about him, a magnetic pull that drew attention without even trying. But what kept you captivated wasn’t just his undeniable charm or his talents on the track. It was the way he treated you. So kind, so considerate. The little things like when he brought you lunch, or those unexpected gifts. He would never say much, but the actions spoke volumes.

Today was no different. As you glanced up from your papers, your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. It was gone almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the confident exterior he wore like a second skin. But that brief second… it lingered with you.

A soft chuckle from across the room broke your reverie. You blinked, startled, and turned back to your notes. Had he just laughed? Or had you imagined it? You quickly jotted down the next point your boss had mentioned, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Max’s attention was still on you. A warmth spread through your chest, making your heart race just a little faster.

Your boss rambled on, but you were barely listening anymore. Instead, you were aware of the small shifts in the room, the subtle way Max moved, the way his eyes sometimes darted in your direction when he thought no one was looking. It was all so deliberate, so calculated. And yet, it felt so effortless. How could you not notice him?

He knew exactly how to make his presence felt without saying a word. The way he stood with an air of confidence, but never too imposing. The way he’d lean in when speaking to you, always making sure he was just a little closer than necessary. You weren’t blind; you had noticed the way his gaze lingered when you’d speak, the soft smile that would tug at the corner of his lips when you made a joke or said something witty. He’d always play it off as nothing, but you saw the truth in it. Max Verstappen was interested in you.

After the meeting ended, you found yourself packing up your things with more urgency than necessary. You didn’t want to leave, not really. But you had a feeling something might happen if you stuck around too long. You gathered your notes and slipped them into your bag, all the while trying to ignore the heat radiating from your face. There was no reason to be so flustered. It was just Max, after all.

Except… it wasn’t just Max. It was Max, and his unspoken attention, and the way he made you feel like the only person in the room, even when you weren’t the one he was talking to. It was the soft pressure of his gaze, the way his hands seemed to brush against yours just a little too often when handing you something, the way his smile seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words.

“Heading out?” The sound of his voice made you jump, your heart stuttering for a moment. You looked up to find him standing right next to your desk, his expression unreadable, but the flicker of something in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah,” you stammered, feeling your palms start to sweat. “Just… finishing up some notes.”

Max raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “You know,” he said, leaning casually against the edge of your desk, “you’ve been working really hard lately. Maybe you could use a little break.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. He wasn’t making a suggestion; he was making an offer. Something unspoken passed between the two of you, a kind of tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Max’s smirk deepened, and before you could react, he pulled a small bag from his pocket and placed it on your desk. “A little treat,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing. “Thought you could use it after a long day.”

You stared at the bag in disbelief for a moment before opening it carefully. Inside, you found a small selection of your favorite chocolates, the ones you’d mentioned in passing months ago during a lunch break.

“I… Max, you didn’t have to,” you whispered, touched by the gesture.

He shrugged, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I wanted to. And besides,” he added, his voice dropping for just the two of you two hear, “You can always make it up to me after this meeting.” His breath fanned across your ear, and the look he gave you told you more than enough about what he meant.

A thousand thoughts rushed through your mind in that instant, but none of them made it past the lump in your throat. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could manage was a small nod, fearing that if you moved your legs would give out underneath you. Max gave you a knowing smile, his eyes flickering with something that made your chest tighten. He slipped a small paper into your purse before giving you one last look.

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Something had shifted between the two of you, something subtle but undeniable. And as you watched him walk away, your thoughts began to swirl, the questions you had about Max Verstappen suddenly seeming a lot more complicated than they had before.

But for now, you could only watch him go, knowing that whatever happened next, you were no longer the only one who had been keeping a secret.

Slowly reaching into your bag, took the cool white paper into your fingers. Your hands shook with just a bit of anticipation as you unfolded it, staring at the letters that stuck on your mind for the next hour.

“Come to my office after the last meeting of the day.”

When everyone had cleared out of the office and your nerves had begun to get the best of you. There was a churning feeling in your stomach that had been bubbling up as you anxiously made your way to Maxs office. When you’d actually reached the door your feet seemed to stop in place, stopping you in time.

“Are you going to just keep standing outside of my door keeping me waiting?”

You jolted from your spot, shakily reaching for the doorhandle, pulling it open. Max was there, in a casual button up, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks as you fumbled to close the door behind you. The moment he locked eyes with you, a wave of something hot and unsettling washed over you. His gaze lingered, unhurried, as if he was cataloging every detail of your reaction. There was a silence between you, thick and heavy, filled with so many unspoken words.

"You took your time," Max said, his voice low, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was an edge to his tone, something teasing but with a subtle undertone of command.

“I—” you stammered, then cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

Max cut you off before you could finish, his gaze flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. "No need to apologize," he said, his voice almost too smooth. “You’ve been busy today, haven’t you?”

You nodded, following his broad body as he walked toward you then, his movements deliberate, almost predatory. Every step he took seemed to draw you in, until he was standing mere inches away. The space between you felt impossibly small, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves, but his presence was overwhelming in the best way.

Max tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes never left yours except when it was to flickering to look at your face.

"Do you know why I asked you to come here?" His voice was softer now, a whisper of curiosity underlined with something else, something dangerous that made your heart race.

You shook your head, unable to trust your voice. It was as if the words were trapped inside your chest, stuck behind a wall of uncertainty. Was he teasing you? Or was there something more to his request?

Max’s smile widened slightly, sensing your unease. "You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words. "What do you mean?"

He took another step closer, and you could feel the air around you growing heavier, charged with something electric. “I’ve noticed,” he said, his voice low, almost like a confession. “You’re always polite, always professional. But there’s a distance between us. Like you’re… keeping something from me.”

Your throat went dry. Was he referring to the way you always made sure to keep things strictly professional with him? To the way you tried to mask the strange feelings he stirred in you? To the fact that you had spent months trying to ignore the undeniable chemistry between you, pretending it didn’t exist?

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words failed you. Max watched you closely, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and something more primal.

He stepped closer again, his proximity now impossible to ignore. You could feel the heat from his body seeping into your skin. His hand reached out, almost casually, brushing against yours. The simple touch sent a shock through your system, your pulse quickening in response.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmured, his voice now hushed, intimate. "I’m not going to bite."

But the way he said it the glint in his eyes, the subtle weight behind his words told you that maybe he would, in a way that you couldn't quite predict. A delicious chill ran down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, mesmerized. His next words seemed to buzz right to your cunt.

“Unless….you want me to?”

A small whimper sounded in your throat that didn't go unnoticed by the older man. His hands trailed up your sides that made you squirm in your spot, not daring to look away fearing that if you did he’d disappear in the moment.

“Sit down, Schat”

You blinked, heart racing as your body obeyed his command before your mind could catch up. Every nerve in your body screamed for you to turn and walk away, but something inside you, the same part that had always been drawn to him, even from the first moment you'd met compelled you to stay, setting a fiery feeling throughout your body.

He smirked when he saw the look on your face, it was one of innocence and surprise. You weren't a virgin by any means, but no other man had ever taken the time to care about you. Not like this.

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest as you watched him, waiting for him to tell you what to do. He had moved and was sitting with his legs spread leaning against his office chair, his hand running along his clothed thigh. Your eyes followed his hands movements and he chuckled darkly at how obvious your interest was.

"You're going to take off your clothes for me" He hummed, a smile forming on his face.

At first, it shocked you l, but you knew were this was going the moment you’d read that note. Part of you wanted to maintain your professionalism while the other fought desperately to crawl out of the cage you locked her in. And right now— she was winning. Your hands were shaking as you tried to pull your shirt over your head. You fumbled with the fabric for a few seconds before you were able to slip it off, tossing it onto the floor.

Max's eyes were burning into yours as you removed the rest of your clothing, leaving you standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. You could feel his gaze lingering on every inch of exposed skin and goosebumps rose along your body.

His eyes were dark as they raked over you, drinking in the sight before him. He was completely still, other than the twitch of his fingers, the only thing giving away his impatience.

"Come here." His voice was commanding, deep, sending a shiver up your spine.

For a second we were unable to move, frozen in place, but you quickly scampered towards him, the cold making your nipples perk up against the now burning feeling that was spreading throughout your body.

"Take off your underwear."

Your breath hitched as you obeyed. It wasn't until the fabric slid down your legs and onto the floor that you realized he was staring directly between your legs, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. You felt a harsh blush spread across your cheeks. If he wanted to stare at you so bad he should have just said so to begin with. Still the entire situation had left you drenched, feeling a bit of your slick rub against your inner thighs.

"Turn around."

Again, your body moved without thought, spinning so you were facing away from him.

"Bend over."

Your pulse spiked. You bent forward, feeling his hands caress the backs of your thighs, moving up to squeeze the globes of your ass. You moaned quietly as he spread you apart, exposing your most intimate area.

"Look at you, already so wet for me. Are you aching, bloem? Is it throbbing?" He asked, his voice low and husky, almost a growl. There was something primal with the way he was speaking to you. His breath fanning across your back makes you shiver in the process.

"Y-yes." You breathed quietly, just enough for him to be able to hear.

"Good girl."

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your core, dragging his tongue up the length of you.

"Mmm," He moaned, "You taste even better than I imagined…."

He pushed two fingers into you, curling them just right to hit your g-spot, drawing out a cry from your lips. You could feel his smirk against your flesh as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

"So tight." He murmured.

Your legs began to tremble as he increased the speed of his ministrations, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. The sound that filled the room was far from innocent as your moans ripped through the thick sex filled air.

"That's it," He whispered, "You sound so pretty for me."

The stubble of his mustache scraped against your cunt electing a whine from you. Max's fingers twisted and turned in your gummy walls paired with his skilled tongue was doing wonders for you as you helplessly grinded against his face to be best if your ability from your compromising position. You could feel him chuckle against your clit before you felt a sharp pinch in the bundle of nerves. You squeaked in surprise from both pain and pleasure before your walls clenched around him and you let out a scream, your arms finally giving out on the table, breathing hard. You were still recovering from the aftershocks of your orgasm that Max had been slurping up easing with small kitten licked when you felt a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you up.

"Get on your knees" his eyes were hazed as he spoke. Your eyes widened as you were guided off the table, slowly kneeling in front of him.

"Open." His voice was final and you opened your mouth and he pushed his fingers into you, making sure that you got a good taste of yourself. Slowly you swirl your tongue around each of his digits making sure to clean them off, maintaining eye contact with the Dutchman the entire time making him groan as he watched you.

His length strained against his slacks taking up more than enough space in their confined environment. You looked up at him with innocent, pleading eyes, and he raised an eyebrow at you expectantly. Just as eagerly you reached up to undo his belt tugging both his pants and boxers down in one go. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. His cock was long and thick, and already hard. Precum was beading at the tip, begging for your attention. You but your lip, wondering if maybe you’d bit off more than you could chew.

His movements were swift with how he grabbed your face, giving you no time to think since his fingers pressed in the back of your jaw, making it slack open.

“Now be a good girl and suck.”

You took him into your hand, wrapping your fingers around him and stroked his shaft slowly, twisting your wrist slightly as you did. He let out a low moan, closing his eyes and leaning back, giving you full access to him.

You leaned in, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting the salty liquid, before taking him into your mouth. His hands immediately tangled themselves in your hair, tugging on the strands as you bobbed your head, sucking him eagerly.

"That's it, fuck yeah….such a pretty little mouth for me.."

You hollowed out your cheeks, increasing the suction around his shaft, drawing more moans from his lips. You quite enjoyed the look on his face as his eyebrows scrunches together as he tried to keep his cool. You flicked your tongue on the underside of his length, occasionally pressing him to the back of your throat teasingly. You could tell he was getting close, his hips starting to thrust upwards, fucking into your mouth.

You let out a surprised muffle when the makeshift ponytail he had made with your hair was pressed down rather harshly, making you gag in his length.

"Fucking hell." He hissed, tightening his grip on your hair.

You relaxed your jaw and took him deeper, swallowing him completely, earning a growl from his throat. You could feel him swell in your mouth and his hips stuttered as his orgasm hit.

“Fucking swallow it all, baby. Swallow my cum." He panted.

You swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him. Making sure to lick up anything you might have missed for good measure. His cock still twitched eagerly and as Max was still catching his breath when he spoke again.

"On the couch, lie on your back"

You quickly climbed onto the sofa, lying down. He leaned over you, brushing his lips against yours, making your breath hitch. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you as your lips locked in a sloppy kiss that was more teeth than kiss but it didn’t matter.

“Should mark you.” He was muttering under his breath. “Make sure they know what’s mine.”

As if on queue you felt a sharp pain on the side of your neck that quickly melted to pleasure causing you to moan.

"Would you like that, Schat?"

On a normal basis if you had been thinking you would have said no, but the look he was giving you and you said otherwise. The thought of everyone staring at you with marks littered by Max makes your pussy gape around nothing, waiting to be filled.

“Please Max?” You whimpered, bucking your hips up lightly in response which made him chuckle. “You’re so naughty for someone so innocent.” With that, he’d made his journey to leave bites and hickeys across your body, leaving no part untouched.

His mouth had started on your neck, biting and licking afterwards as if to sooth it before moving onto his next spot to ruin. Max teeth dug into your skin in a way that seemed like they were supposed to fit. His hands cupped your breast giving them a tough squeeze, a moan leaving your mouth.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous..” he breathed, staring down at you before taking a nipple in his mouth sucking harsh l his tongue twirling circles around the bud before releasing it with a pop that made you shudder. If you’d started to notice anything it was how Max certainly wasn’t going easy on you. Almost a second later your point was proven when you felt a pinch to your tit, making you squeal. His eyes looked up at you as if to say ‘sorry’ but it certainly didn’t stop him from repeating the treatment to you other mound of flesh.

Your thighs rubbed together in impatience, your own slick spreading more and more. When the kisses had reached your stomach you felt him lift himself up, making your previously closed eyes snap open.

"I'm gonna fuck you, and you're going to take it.” Max's voice was calm but the wild look in his eyes betrayed everything that he was saying.

"Yes…Max.”

“Good.” The words seemed final. You gasped when you felt his tip pressed against your swollen cunt, slowly slipping in. Your hands wrapped and his back, placing them firmly but not enough to scratch him, that was until you felt him push the rest of himself in you with one thrust. Your previous slick made it easy for him to intrude your gummy walls feeling full in an instant. Your nails dug into his back as you let out a moan that mixed with Max’s grunt.

"Jesus Christ, you're so tight. Such a good girl." he grunted, his grip tightened on your hips as he guided you down onto him. You moaned embarrassingly louder than you’d like to admit when the head of his cock brushed against your cervix. Your pussy spasmed involuntarily the deeper he got.

"Look at you, so eager for me, Schat. Do you like it when I fuck you?"

"Yes, Max!" You cried, your walls clenching around him as he rutted into you. Your shameless cries filled the empty area, and you quickly covered your mouth to hide the sounds.

“No, Y/N I want to hear you,” Max's hand curled around your wrist, prying your hand away from your mouth to let your moans fall. You raised your hips and bucked them, quickly grinding against him. His hands gripped your hips, surely leaving bruises later. You started to move faster, rocking against him, taking him deeper with each thrust. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, as he pistoned into you, sending jolts down your spine.

“Who knew that my pretty little wallflower could sound like such a dirty little slut.” he teased, slowly dragging his fingers across your body. You moaned as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it roughly.

"You're so beautiful, Schat." He murmured before flipping you over, your bodies still connected so he could see your face. “All that mascara running down your face. You look absolutely ruined for me.”

Max seemed mesmerized at the way your perky tits bounced with each thrust he made, shaking the couch with his movements— not that he cared much about that anyway. The coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter, your muscles clenching around him, causing him to groan.

“That's it baby, cum all over my cock.” his encouragement only seemed to spur the burning feeling in your stomach, and with the addition of how his fingers were skillfully working on your clit, feeling the stimulation from his fingers, his pace, and now the sharp bites on your shoulder was enough to edge you into coming undone, the pressure exploding making you shake with a loud cry. Your pussy clenched down on his length engaging him in our walls doing exactly as you were told. His thrusts became more frantic and you knew he was close, "Oh god, yes, Max!" You cried, feeling the rush of your orgasm hit you. He followed suit, growling out a string of dutch words as he came, filling you completely.

“You’re going to keep every last drop.” Max whispered into your ear, steadily continuing to thrust into you, making sure his cum was stuffed well in your cunt. You whimpred a bit from the overstimulation but made no move to stop him from his goal.

He was still panting heavily as he pulled out of you, watching the white liquid drip from your entrance, coating his length. Quickly he’d moved to reach for your discarded panties, returning to your spent body tsking under his breath as the white liquid spilled out of your body. His thick fingers gathered up the secretion, stuffing it right back inside your puffy cunt making your body jolt, a broken moan falling from your lips. Max only chuckled at your response, slipping your panties back on before placing a light kiss at your sensitive entrance.

“You did so well for me, Schat. Same time tomorrow?”

You were already nodding yes.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #smut

209 notes · View notes

heyhelloitsmilo · 4 months ago

Text

Audiobooks

jason todd x gn! reader

891 words

⚠️ warnings: milo standard fluff

💛 pairings: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

💫 summary: jason todd recites to you pride and prejudice and then you call him a nerd

💬 extra notes: its gettin real cold here and my heater went out oops

You never thought you’d find yourself like this. It wasn't bad, you weren't complaining, to be clear. This was just so… so… domestic? And soft?

Jason’s arms encircled your waist, his body curled around your own. Tight muscles relaxed in your presence, nose buried in the crook of your neck. White-streaked hair tangled in your fingertips. Warm breath tickled the side of your neck, scarred hands slipped under your shirt to find purchase on your side or back. Jane Austen’s Pride And Prejudice played as an audiobook in the background.

The second Robin. Red Hood himself. In your bed. Holding you close like his life depended on it. It might as well have, you were the only thing keeping him sane most days, especially days like these. The hours and days tended to blur together. His thigh shifted to pull you close, resting on your hip, his bare leg on your body.

You had your arms around Jason’s neck, back arched as he held you close, your chest to his. Even if the circumstances the two of you had faced to meet weren't the best, you would still do it all over again for moments like these. Jason was such a wonderful man. Strong sense of justice, often a bit brutal, but soft at heart. He loved every fiber of your being, and even if he didn't say that often, he’d sure as hell show it. Quality time date nights, making your favorite food for dinner, finding out all of your typical orders at restaurants or cafes, smothering you in kisses as soon as he got home.

Jason pressed a few chaste kisses to your neck, scarred lips gentle on your skin. He chased them with curt nibbles, fingers rubbing circles into the skin of your back.

“You're so warm.”

He muttered, the duvet swaddling the both of you in soft fabric. But you were also just generally nice to hug.

“I'm gonna make tea later. Do you want some?”

You nodded, feeling drowsy from all the relaxation. Didn’t matter that you’d probably fall asleep within the next few minutes, it made you feel so wanted and loved.

Jason smiled against your skin, his expressions hidden from your eyes. Nights like these, he never wanted to let you go. He’d hold you forever, given the option. Fingers trailed up and down your back, tracing every curve, every dip, every bump of your spine. Gentle touches reinforced the mental map of your body, planes of skin beneath his palms.

For a few hours, he could be normal. Here, in your arms, in your apartment, he didn't have to worry or be angry or upset. It was just you and him.

“My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever. If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you:”

You felt Jason take in a breath, this quote meant more to him than he let on. So much so, he’d memorized it.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

You smiled, tracing gentle little hearts onto Jason’s scarred back, a silent acknowledgement. Fingertips glided along your boyfriend's textured back, dips and bumps and ridges underneath the pads of your fingers. Gods, you loved him. To whatever deity was out there, you prayed that this would never end.

“...Fucking nerd."

You muttered, voice muffled in Jason’s shoulder. A rumble of a chuckle bubbled up from Jason’s throat, calloused hands rubbing gently at your back. He didn't deny it, though. Only nibbled at your skin, tongue playfully darting out to leave a little lick. You shivered, recoiling at the feeling of saliva on your neck.

“Ew.”

Jason chuckled, licking a line up your neck.

“Ew!”

Disgusted grumbles left your mouth, trying to roll away from Jason, only for him to tighten his hold on you.

“You’re not gettin’ away from my love, sweetheart.”

You sighed, falling limp in his arms, your body a dead weight as he manhandled you back over to him.

"Yeah, accept your fate."

Jason grinned, turning you onto your back, leaning in, and planting a raspberry on your collarbone. You squeaked, wriggling in Jason's grasp. He nipped and nibbled at your neck and the tender area just under your jaw, his hands tracing the dips in your body.

And then he licked your cheek.

"EuuAuCk!"

An inhuman noise left your lips, your head recoiling as far as humanly possible into the pillows. You curled in on yourself, rubbing the saliva off with the collar of your shirt.

Something akin to a giggle left Jason's lips, his blue eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Eugh. Blue-eyed stare.

Piercing blue eyes aside, Jason simply resorted to lying down on top of you with no regard for your breathing. All things considered, he was a nice weighted blanket. You simply sighed, the calm voice of the audiobook coming back into focus. Not enough in focus to perceive whatever they were saying, however.

Again, here you were, all cuddled up and cozy with Jason wrapped around you. Your hand combed through his shaggy hair, gently scratching at his scalp.

"I love you."

You murmured, lips moving against your partner's temple.

"I love you, too."

whheeeeee

#heyhelloitsmilo #writerblr #writblr #jason todd fic #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #no y/n #no use of y/n #the pookie #jason todd beloved #me when i fluff #urm jason todd #i love you fluff #its too late for this #im tired as balls #someone take the internet away from me

344 notes · View notes

cuteandhughesy · 5 months ago

Text

Let It Happen | Mark Estapa

summary: fighting for the best seat in class with mark wasn't your first choice - neither is having to tutor him in the midst of it.

18.6 K

link to playlist

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

row 5, 10 seats in: your ideal spot in any lecture hall. you've found that during your time at the university of michigan, that exact seat always proved to be the most practical. the viewing angle of the board was always perfect - not too close to the front to be picked on, but not too far back that you needed your glasses. not many people chose that area in a lecture hall - either opting for the first three rows or the very back, meaning you typically weren't bumping elbows with anybody while taking notes.

so in your junior year of university when you noticed your psychology class was in room 293 (a room you'd had classes in previously) that first day, you took your seat proudly in row 5, 10 seats in. you knew you'd get your perfect seat - meaning you'd have no problem in succeeding with a productive academic semester.

that is until you walked in on the second day of classes and a head of dirty blonde hair, accompanied by broad shoulders and big hands was found sitting comfortably in your seat.

you slow in your steps, feeling your facial expression fall as you take him in. he's looking to his right, not even paying attention to you - legs outstretched and books spread out in your seat.

it's fine, you think, tomorrow you'll just get here earlier to take your desired spot. today, you decide, you'll settle for a different seat.

then, the mystery boy turns his head in your direction and you think your face falls even more. mark estapa was in your seat.

you knew of mark through mutual friends. you weren't friends with him or anything, but you're sure you've probably smiled in passing before.

seeing mark in your seat made you feel....irritated. because even if he didn't know it was your unassigned assigned seat - wouldn't he much rather dick around in the back with his teammates? why did he need to be in the perfect academic position when he probably couldn't care less about the class.

"is this your seat or something?" marks deep voice has you blinking hard, snapping yourself out of your head.

your brows pull together, and you tug on the strap of your book bag laying heavy on your shoulder. "what?"

he shrugs, "you're looking at me all weird - like I just kicked a puppy or something. so I just assumed i'm in 'your' seat." mark air quotes the word your, and it has you squinting at him irritatedly, lips forming into a pull of disgust.

"why'd you say it like that?"

he laughs slightly, and it makes your stomach swirl unpleasantly. mark shrugs, toying with one of his ink pens between two thick fingers. "you just look like the type to have some weird thing about where you sit."

you scoff gently, taking a step closer to the wolverines forward. "I'll have you know, that seat 10 in row 5 is quite literally the perfect spot for learning - there are studies that prove it. I take great pride in my grades - so yeah, I guess you could say I have 'some weird thing about where I sit'" you use air quotations to mimic his earlier ones, which makes mark breathe one quiet chuckle, eyes meeting the ceiling quickly before finding yours again.

you're looking at him expectantly, arms crossed and brows raised.

"is that right?" mark questions.

you nod, "mhm."

"looks like I beat you to it then."

your mouth falls and that makes mark's cheeky smile widen. "might as well just sit there," he gestures to the empty chair next to him, "because today, i'll be getting the benefits from sitting in the perfect seat for learning."

you bite your tongue, wordlessly (and rather aggressively) taking the empty spot next to your seat. "mhm yup." you hum quietly, eyeing the professor as he makes his way into the classroom, "enjoy it today -because it will be the last time you sit in that spot."

you feel marks eyes on the side of your face. "we'll see about that," he smirks, slowly turning his attention back to the front of the classroom.

tomorrow, you think, you'll be back in your seat - mark be damned.

class 2

the next class day - you do get your seat. if that wasn't a sweet enough victory in itself, you also get to watch mark tongue his cheek in annoyance at the sight.

he slows in his steps in the aisle, eyes very much on you in the desired seat. you send him a teasing smile, watching his irritation grow - it's practically radiating off his large body as he tosses himself down in the seat you had to painfully endure last class.

when he roughly pulls everything out of his book back, your victorious smile grows.

throughout the lesson, you make a show of spreading out your books with enthusiasm and making sure you sigh with content whenever you shuffled or moved in your seat.

all mark can do is smirk to himself, barley looking over towards you when you move or make a noise. his smirk is evident though, and you can't help but catch it.

you're surprised that mark even chose to sit beside you after he'd seen you in the seat. you assumed after rightfully taking back your seat, he'd move rows completely - choosing the back of the class with luke hughes and ethan edwards - but no.

you know now that he was trying to take your spot again - purposely this time. the thought has you angry and you have to grit your teeth anytime mark shuffles around - the urge to curse him out for being an idiot threatening to spill out.

you're determined now to not back down from keeping your assigned unassigned seat - your academic well being depended on it.

when class finally ends and the professor dismisses you all, mark turns towards you - looking smug in a way that has you snaring. you think he may say something about the seat, or perhaps even apologize for destroying your peace all class. but instead, "game on," mark deadpanned, grabbing his book bag and hauling it over one shoulder.

you laugh sarcastically, gathering your laptop and slipping it into your own bag. mark doesn't get too far away from you before you decide to respond. "can't play when you can't compete," you hum.

mark stops walking, eyeing you over his shoulder with that same stupid smirk on his face.

you don't stick around for him to say anything else, your shoulder brushing his sweater covered chest as you move past him.

class 3

the night before, you make sure you're alarm is set half and hour earlier than usual - and you check it at least 4 times before going to sleep: you were getting that damn seat even if it meant waking around like a zombie from loosing that extra bit of rest.

you woke frantically that morning, rushing through your brief morning routine so you could ensure you'd get out the door as quickly as possible - determined to get to class before mark - get to your seat before mark could wrongfully take it.

you walk through your psychology lectures door way with a victorious smile already on your face - happy that you will once again be more academically inclined for your class.

you look over to your row and slowly, and your smile fades as you resist the urge to scream.

mark is already there.

in your seat.

nobody else is in the lecture hall yet, and fair enough, you think, because it's still too early. you thought it was too early for anybody else besides yourself to get there....but you were wrong.

mark has all his books out on the small table infront of him, laptop open and ready on a blank document. there's a half drunken cold brew on his desk as well, meaning he's been awake long enough to not only beat you to class but get a drink on the way.

worst of all, mark is already looking at you - his body turned towards the entrance of the lecture hall like he's been waiting for you to arrive and watch the joy fade from your eyes.

you grit your teeth in irritation, slowly and with as much calmness you can manage, make your way to him.

"good morning," he chimes happily, eyes not leaving your face as you approach the seat.

you let your bag slip off your shoulder, hitting the floor beside his sneakers. sourly, you take the open seat right next to him.

"thought i'd get up early today." mark continues, picking up his coffee and taking an obnoxiously loud sip.

your glare at him before taking out your books.

two can play at this game, you think.

class 4

you've underestimated the michigan athlete once again. showing up that next week, 20 minutes earlier that the previous time - only to see mark there in your seat... again.

he's taken a more theatrical (and blood boiling) approach this class, with his long gangly legs propped up on the seat of the desks to his left and his arms behind his head - leisurely resting on not only your seat but the one you'd be stuck with beside it.

you scoff as you get close, eyeing his long legs on the desks, "must you look so proud?"

"oh, I must." mark says.

class 5

you can barley keep your eyes open because of how little sleep you've had, but the exhaustion is so worth it.

the morning of your class, you woke up ridiculously early - so early that your roommate sabrina was barley just asleep. so early you're sure mark wouldn't even dare think of waking up.

and yeah, you had to skip over the hair brushing, make up and the presentable clothing step in your morning routine, but you didn't care. all you cared about was getting to your lecture hall before anybody else could.

when you hear shoes squeaking to a halted stop an hour or so after you arrived to class, your tired eyes snap open. mark is looking at you with a shocked expression, his eyes processing the sight you in your seat already.

quickly, his expression changes. mark makes his way to you, squinting curiously at you as he analyses your pale skin. "you look tired." he states, sitting down.

you shrug nonchalantly, flipping your very much unrbushed hair over your shoulder. "you must be mistaking my victorious expression for one of fatigue."

mark hisses through his teeth, eyeing you once more. "careful, what good does the perfect seat have if you can't even stay awake to bask in its greatness."

class 8

in your last few psychology lecture races, you beat mark 2 wins to 1 in your shared seat debacle. you're still surprised he got his one win with how early you'd been waking up and getting to the classroom.

the feeling of victory has not gotten old though, and you have to picture marks face full of disappointment when you're feeling exhausted from your lack of full nights.

the look of pure irritation on the wolverines superstar player anytime he realized you'd beaten him to the lecture hall - the way you wiggled your fingers in a gentle wave in his direction as you happily occupied your seat - it was really fulfilling.

when you told sabrina about your and marks little tiff with your seat, she expressed how she thought it was dumb idea. sabrina said waking up early and loosing sleep over a seat in class wasn't going to help anybody's academics. as well, she says that arguing and taunting somebody as popular as mark estapa wasn't a good decision on your part because there was no good to come from it.

but you couldn't seem to care about any kind of consequence. you didn't care how popular he was, or how much he liked you - all you could think about was marks irritating smirk and big body plopped in your seat - tainting its essence.

the seat war would continue until mark gave up - you were determined.

it was another successful class morning of beating mark. your and mark's arrival kept getting earlier each time, but somehow you kept managing to just be that little bit earlier than him.

you're sipping your redbull delicately as he walks into the lecture hall, hiding your growing smirk behind the rim of the can as you watch mark deflate at the sight of your in the seat.

he curses quietly to himself before he makes his way towards you. "are you sleeping here or something?" he huffs annoyed, sitting heavily in the chair beside you.

you shrug nonchalantly, dusting off the imaginary debris from the hardcover of your psychology textbook. "no," you hum. then in all seriousness, you pause, directing your gaze towards him as you continue, "- but I wouldn't hesitate sleeping outside this classroom for this seat, mark."

slowly and with disbelief, mark puts his notebook down infront of him, eyes not leaving yours as he analyses you. "...you wouldn't dare."

"oh," you laugh once, "I'd dare."

he squints suspiciously at you before shaking his head once, breaking himself out of your mini staring contest. he straightens his back out, falling back against the seat - the dull thud echoing in the empty classroom.

you watch his suspicious expression change to one of curiosity and that has you feeling a bit nervous. you watch as he eyes you again, a raise to his one brow.

a beat passes.

"how do you know my name, y/n?" mark asks, a slight tug to the corner of his mouth. he sounds almost...impressed, and truly curious.

which you think is a bit odd, because who doesn't know mark estapa? not only was he on the schools hockey team and friends with some of the most popular athletes at the school (nhl stars included), but he was quite literally famous online. one time you got a tiktok edit of him...on your foryou page. you don't think you've scrolled past anything faster - the feeling of seeing clips of your classmate over a flo milli song was just too much.

instead of spewing out that inner monologue, you reach over yourself, pointer finger tapping the top of his dark green notebook - touching his name that was written out in black sharpie.

briefly, you wonder if its handwriting or somebody else's, but you also don't know why you would care, so you quickly tell your intrusive thought to get lost. you pull away, hands coming back you yourself.

mark nods in understanding, shrugging like it's an acceptable answer. "ah," he breaths, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his muscles moving under his compression top.

you blink hard, scolding yourself for letting your eyes wonder. what is wrong with you today, girl? you think. "annnnnddd how do you know my name?" you drag out, brow raises in question as you eye him.

wordlessly, mark uncrosses his arms so his hands are free. with a slight smirk, he taps the side of his head, mimicking your earlier point on his note book.

class 9:

"I should've brought you a neck pillow." are the first words your hear when you walk into room 293, marks voice making itself known as soon as your converse covered feet past the threshold of the classroom. "you know," he continues, "In case the early morning catches up to you."

you breathe out a sarcastic laugh, walking sluggishly to the dreaded 11th numbered chair beside him.

one of the worst things about waking up earlier to try and beat mark to the lecture hall was that he never even looks like he's tired - where as you looked like you just crawled from a bat cave. in the earlier mornings, mark is always smiling and looking bright eyes and bushy tailed - which has your annoyance spiking.

you choose to not say anything and you keep your tired eyes trained on the front empty hall. now you wish you stopped for a coffee, knowing it wouldn't of mattered anyway - mark had you beat. thankfully, mark doesn't say anything else, and scrolls tiktok quietly beside you. the noise is a nice distraction, and it has you feeling rather relaxed as the two of you sit together in the early morning silence.

an hour later when your classmates start arriving, you start to get your things out of your bag. reaching in you're immediately humbled feeling nothing in there. the night before, you had spilt a smoothie in your bag, and emptied everything out to let it dry. this morning when you were rushing to get to class to beat mark to your seat (which proved unsuccessful), you had only grabbed the empty bag - leaving all your belongings at home.

you're left with no laptop, no textbooks, no notepad, not even a pen. you feel like you could cry. as the professor made his entrance, you're left with no choice but to borrow from your seat mate.

the thought of having to deal with him in the morning is already exhausting. you inhale deeply and look over at mark. you plaster on the best exaggerated grin you manage this early. "mark, can I have a pen and some paper?"

suprised, mark looks over at you. once he sees your faux smile and lack of supplies laid out, he mimicks your expression, the sarcasm of it all is practically oozing off him. "ahhhh - so now you want to talk to me."

he was trying to push your buttons, that much was obvious. you don't give in, only deepening your faux smile, even giving your head a little tilt. "well, technically I forgot my stuff because I was too preoccupied trying to get here before you could steal my seat - the least you could do Is let me borrow a pen and piece of paper because, after all, you did steal my seat."

mark tongues his cheek, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a victorious manner. a beat passes before he digs through his bag, emerging with a pen - holding it in his palm out to you. you pluck it from hand aggressively - making his smirk grow.

class 12

your psychology class has been pushed back an hour after your professor sent out an email the night before, offering his apologies after he needed to extend one of his meetings with the department.

you weren't complaining though. you were looking forward to that little bit extra sleep before getting up and trying to once again beat mark to your seat.

knowing you had that little bit of extra time, you chose to take your time walking towards the lecture hall building, sipping on your apple cider as you enjoyed the fall weather. the fall season at the university of michigan was always your favourite. there was something so magical about being away at school when the leaves were turning that resonated with you.

not too many students were around while you walked. just the odd group or individual as they made their way to their own lectures. that being said, it made spotting people very easy, as they weren't yet common.

so when you lock eyes with mark as he approaches on one of the side paths, you can't help but to curse yourself - walking too leisurely to the point of running into him.

mark slows in his steps only a few feet adjacent to you, swallowing thickly. you slow down as well, eyeing him suspiciously as he stares down at you. he clears his throat as you both come into step with one another, now walking side by side to your lecture building.

"mark." you greet quickly, eyes forward as the building comes into sight.

he nods, "y/n." mark begins to walk just a little faster at the sight of your destination, leaving you a step behind.

so you follow suit, taking quicker and bigger steps in order to keep up with mark. his legs are long and he's way more fit than you, so you're practically in a breathless jog trying to get in front of him.

"beautiful morning," you hum nonchalantly.

"the most," mark's step increase in speed as he answers you.

you curse to yourself, falling behind once again. you feel like your running at this point, desperately trying to beat mark without full on sprinting into the lecture building. you panick, knowing marks stupid long legs would have you beat in this foot race - and to your seat.

quickly, you conjure up a plan of attack. you groan behind him, crouching down and grabbing ahold of your sock covered ankle. you hiss loudly like you're hurting - loud enough for mark to hear.

he stops walking at the sound of your pain, turning around to see you bent down, nothing but discomfort on your face. mark starts walking towards you, the shiny dark oak doors to the lecture building long forgotten as he bends down to your level.

softly, he places a warm palm on your back, eyes searching yours. "hey, you okay?"

momentarily you feel guilty. he looks truly concerned for your well being and the feeling of his hand on your back isn't helping your act.

but then you remember how he quite literally stole your seat and the guilt washes away.

rather wobbly, you stand back up to your full height with the help of marks arm. you balance your weight on the ankle you were nursing, wincing as you do so.

mark still looks concerned. his brows are furrowed tightly as he watches your facial expressions, waiting for any further signs of discomfort and pain. you're pretty sure he was about to offer you a damn piggy back ride.

you sigh deeply, and then a smirk begins to pull at your lips. "nice guys finish last marky." you deadpanned.

"what?" he frowns, confused.

you take off, sprinting past him and up the stairs of the lecture hall. "the seat is mine!" you call out, pushing open the heavy doors and disappearing into the building.

class 14

you were running a little bit more behind than you preferred this morning, and you were practically running by the time you walked into psychology.

it's quiet in there, and you notice how mark isn't present. nobody is the lecture hall and even better, mark isn't in your seat.

you let a triumphant smile overtake your bare face, and you adjust your bag so that it can finally still comfortably on your shoulder - your rush to class having your bag left to rub your shoulder raw.

then your momentary joy fades as you take in the note on the big whiteboard behind the teachers desk.

class moved to room 278.

you groan to yourself, immediately spinning on your heels to head back in the direction you had already walked through.

you can already picture mark - his smug face tucked into that beloved 10th seat in the 5th row. picturing that has you walking faster as you hope that mark wasn't too far ahead of you - or ahead of you at all.

you all but slide into the new lecture hall, slightly breathless and exhausted. you're confused, brows pulled taught as you also see this classroom empty. although it's still early, it was unlikely for absolutely nobody to have arrived.

quickly, your eyes dance around the room, finding the smaller dry erase board near the front. your lips form into an involuntary snare, your anger bubbling up as you read the note left.

would a nice guy do this? is written in blue, accompanied by a terrible drawn emoji - blowing you a kiss.

mark.

"you're fucking kidding" you whisper. you can feel your face flush with anger, deepening your irritation as you re-read(what you now realize) is marks handwriting - matching his name printed on that stupid green notebook he always uses.

you take a shaky inhale to keep yourself as calm as possible, leaving the classroom in an annoyed march - quickly making your way back to the correct classroom.

you can't even be bothered about how sweaty you've become or how your feet are beginning to ache from walking across campus three times before your first class - all your thoughts are focused on mark and his stupid prank and how he's definitely lounging in your seat - waiting for you to get back so he can bask is his prank.

most of the students are piling into the room when you arrive, but you aren't one of patience today. you weave through bodies as quickly as possible, pushing up the stairs.

there's a momentary pause on the incline and that's when you finally land your sights on his head of blonde hair, his eyes watching you in amusement.

immediately, you send him an accusing glare from your stopped position on the stairs, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at him.

mark just winks back at you - which sends your stomach turning in every possible way.

'idiot' you mouth at him. people start moving again, allowing you to finally get through the group of students and down the 5th row.

mark smirks happily, resting his chin in his large palm as he watches you sit wordlessly beside him.

class 17

you're almost out of the row of seats, your book bag slung over your shoulder - your professor had dismissed you all for the morning. it isn't soon after making your way down the stairs, your professor says your name.

"y/n," he calls out, affectively grabbing your attention and stopping you in your tracks. "do you mind having a word?" he questions, adjusting his black framed glasses to sit higher on his nose.

you frown slightly, especially when you catch sight of mark, who seemingly has been asked to stay behind as well. mark isn't looking at you, but rather at the floor, nervously fiddling with his hands.

"sure," you hum gently, walking over towards them hesitantly. "everything okay professor?"

you can't rack your brain for anything that your professor needed to discuss with you and mark - unless, mark decided to be a total asshole about the whole seat thing, which would just be ridiculous.

"actually," the older man sighs, "there's a favour I need to ask of you." your professor eyes mark, who is standing just a few feet behind him.

"okay," you draw suspiciously, eyeing mark as well. he is still looking sheepish, eyes not meeting yours - which was, from what you gathered, very unlike mark.

in the few weeks you've been battling with mark, you've learned he is stubborn and determined - on top of that, he was very confident. the nervous act he was currently displaying had you feeling nervous.

your professor clears his throat, "mark here is having a hard time keeping his grades up in this class. obviously, it's still early in the year but his coach and I have discussed and decided it needs to be dealt with now, rather than later in the semester. this is an important class to mark's education here at the university of michigan, and he cannot have his grades slipping."

you nod slightly, your brows pulled together in confusion as you take in his words. "right, sorry, i'm just confused what that has to do with me." you admit.

the professor nods once, "yes. well, so far you have preformed excellently in my class - not only this semester, but in previous classes as well. that's why coach and I decided that you'd be the perfect choice to help mark and tutor him this semester."

neither you or mark speak, too shocked with the situation to register thoughts. the professor continues. "not only are your grades excellent, but it seems that yourself and mark happen to enjoy each others company - sitting together every class."

you face falls slightly. "seriously?"

"oh, seriously," mark finally speaks, an unreadable expression on his soft face. your professor turns to mark, a little wide eyed as if to tell him to smarten up.

mark sighs gently, "please tutor me, i'd really appreciate your help. I can't play with the team if I slip."

"i'll do it." finally, you agree, nodding a hesitant yes in their direction. immediately, your professor is joyful, giving you and mark the schedule and the study room bookings.

it was all a bit nerve wracking. knowing that you'd have to spend designated time with mark after the two of you had been purposely pushing one another's buttons was making you uneasy.

you don't show the true emotions you were currently battling - only nodding with a faux smile as the professor goes over what lesson plans you'll both start with and providing you with the upmost material you'd be needing.

you leave the classroom soon after your professor says he will email both of you with a more detailed schedule. as you walk back to your building, your mind is occupied with thoughts of tutoring mark and how you'll manage being in the same space with him without wanting to smack him.

and with your first session only a little more than 24 hours away, you'd hope to come up with a solution quickly.

tutoring lesson 1

"that makes no sense."

"that's because you're not even paying attention."

mark breaths deeply at your words, an exaggerated inhale echoing throughout the room. he runs a hand through his thick dirty blonde hair, tugging slightly at the root before releasing his grip.

you had received a text from mark only an hour before your designated study time. immediately, you frowned, because you didn't give him your number - but he had quickly followed up his initial text telling you that your professor gave it to him: invasive but you'd live.

he told you he had a game that night, so the study session would have to be fast and cut short. you gritted your teeth in irritation at his bluntness, but decided rather than telling him to fuck himself and pass the class by himself - you choose peace, responding with only the thumbs up emoji.

fast forward to right now, with you and mark in one of the campus study rooms with your class material from two weeks ago all spread out on the table infront of you.

although you could tell mark wasn't really trying to understand you, you could see true frustration behind his eyes - an indicator that he was at least trying is some capacity.

you take a deep calming breath and try again, "all you need to do is pick out the significant points of this paper and then with that information, you will write your own summary about its importance to the course."

across from you, mark is looking like a lost puppy, mouth slightly agape as he watches you explain the material for the 3rd time. it really wasn't a difficult concept to grasp, in fact, it was the easiest out of all the material you'd be going over.

you sigh gently, "listen, it should be relatively easy," you side eye him gently, his lost expression still very much present. "for some." you chime quietly.

marks mouth snaps shut, and he squints accusingly in your direction - your remark echoing in his ears. "for some," he mocks your words back at you, his voice turning all high pitched and squeaky in a way that makes you scoff.

"are you done?" you deadpanned, brows raised his his direction.

"no," mark groans for the hundredth time, his body falling back in the plastic chair. "that seat shit you read about is clearly crap - I'm not learning at all sitting there. considering it's 'the perfect spot for learning', I haven't learned shit." he air quotes your words from that second day of classes - the first time mark had stolen your seat.

"it's not crap." you state with a glare, "you have to believe it for it to work - clearly you think it's phoney. if you did believe in its natural greatness, you'd be fine - like me."

"whatever." he deadpanned, leaning back over the table - propped up on his elbows.

you bite your tongue for what feels like the millionth time since knowing mark - choosing to not snap back at his attitude.

slowly, you push the reading closer to him, slotting it between his arms, "read this again - slowly - and start with getting your significant points. that way you have that portion done before your game tonight."

wordlessly (and with another sigh, of course), mark drags the paper closer towards himself, sighing deeply as he begins to silently read.

a few minutes pass, both of you deep in school work - you creating lessons plans as well as catching up on your other classes work, while mark reads the assigned reading, occasionally jotting down points in his notebook just like you recommended he do.

your mid sectioning of a grid in your schedule, eyes squinted as you concentrate (you had already cursed yourself for forgetting your glasses). the gentle silence is interrupted, marks much too loud voice interrupting your peace.

"what's your favourite colour?" he questions, tone full of curiosity.

you can hear his pen hit the table, and slowly, you look up, eyeing mark through your lashes. your fingers pause on your laptops keyboard, "what?" you breath.

"your favourite colour. what is it?" he asks again, more firmly.

"how is this significant to our tutoring?" you question curiously, your pen resting on your bottom lip as you ponder at his sudden questioning.

"I'm trying to keep my mind active here," mark says in a tone that makes it sound like you should've known his intentions, "and if you're at least talking to me, then i'll be more inclined work."

you tilt your head gently, squinting playfully at the tall wolverines forward. "are you saying my voice is more boring than you doing your work?"

he gives you an annoyed look, mirroring your tilted head. "just...tell me your favourite colour. and don't say orange - I hate orange."

"what's wrong with orange?" you frown, "orange is the colour that beat communicates fun - It expresses frivolity and playfulness, connecting people back to inner child."

"of course you'd know that." mark says in disbelief after taking a momentary pause at analyze what you just spewed at him.

you choose to answer his initial question, not bothering at attempting to explain your knowledge on a colour - he probably wouldn't understand anyways. "my favourite colour is pink," you answer, back to working away on your laptop, keyboard clicking rhythmically as you talk.

"pink huh," mark hums with interest, "and what's the weird reason for that?" you can feel his eyes on you, boring into your face as you type. knowing that has you feeling slightly nervous, wondering how hard he is analyzing your expressions or features.

"it's just pretty." you say gently, a blush adorning your cheeks. you hear mark stifle a gentle laugh, and you look back across the table at him. he's not looking at you, but rather writing in his notebook, eyes darting between his writing and the reading.

you clear your throat quietly, getting back to your own work. "what's your favourite colour?"

mark eyes you gently once more. you aren't looking at him, so you can't see the way his lips tug up in a smile or the way he's focused on your side profile. "yellow." he answers after a beat. "it's the colour of most of my favourite things."

you hum, "like what?"

"the sun, my jersey, pineapples....baby ducks," you giggle softly at his last remark. finally, you look away from your screen, seeing that mark is already got his eyes on you. he continues softly, "the list goes on really." he is smiling at the sound of your gentle laughter, your eyes squinting naturally without your glasses - ones that mark has only seen you in a handful of times and he thinks you must forget them often.

he shakes his head slightly, eyes finding the clock on his phone. the time has him clearing his throat and he pushes his notebook towards you across the table. "i've got my points here, if you want to check them over before I go."

you blink hard, "right, yeah." you take the outstretched green notebook from him, making quick work of the little blurbs he took note of. "this is good, now you just have to compile it into a summary - in proper format obviously."

"obviously," mark teases. "i'll do it later, kay?" he begins to pack up his things, which only consisted of his notebook, a pen and his closed laptop. "i've gotta get in my suit and head to the rink."

"okay, just..don't forget. and please, send me the final product before turning it in."

mark is practically already out the door. "will do!" he says over his shoulder, shutting the glass enter ace of the study room and jogging away.

you sigh gently, packing away your own things.

11:37 p.m.

mark

just mailed you the summary. should be in your inbox

y/n

yeah, i'll go over it quick

y/n

how was your game?

mark

ehhh, it wasn't great. we lost

y/n

damn. does that happen a lot?

mark

not always

mark

have you never watched one of our games?

y/n

no. i've never watched hockey period

mark

WHAT

mark

i'm sick to my stomach hearing that

y/n

dramatic

mark

you're coming to watch a game

y/n

no i'm not

mark

you are. you'll like it

y/n

how do you know what i'll like ?

mark

i'm smarter than you think y/n

mark

you'll be at a wolverine game soon. promise you that

y/n

whatever helps you sleep.

y/n

sent you back an edited copy with a few tweak suggestions. after that you're good to send it in

mark

yes ma'am

tutoring lesson 7

"new plan," you say, slightly breathless from the jog over to the library. you drop your bag on the dark oak table, the sound thumping in the quiet room.

mark looks up from his phone surprised - your sudden appearance catching him off guard. he raises a brow in question, urging you to continue.

you nod, "you said keeping your brain active is good for you and helps you stay focused, yeah?" he nods for an answers, and you smile before continuing. "right okay, so instead of talking - which can be distracting, I thought -" pausing, you tug on the zipper of your bag, digging through your belongings until you locate your airpods. you pull them out, displaying them like a trophy - mark bites back a teasing smile at your theatrics.

"we can listen to music." you ta da.

his brows pull towards the bridge of his nose, a frown overtaking his face as he thinks about your suggestion. "how is listening to my music going to keep me focused? - I get way too pumped up listening to my playlists."

"your palylists," you state, sliding into the empty spot beside mark. he watches you curiously, eyes following your every move as you start to connect your earbuds to your phone. "that's why we will listen to my music. listening to music you don't care about helps you stay focused on your work because you're not actually dissecting the song."

"and what if we listen to the same kind of music?" mark says lightly, taking the airpod from your outstretched fingers, nestling it in his ear.

slowly, you eye him - looking him over from his head to toes. "we won't." you put your own airpod in, leaving the ear closest to mark free in case he had any questions.

a few tutoring sessions before this one, you gave mark the detailed outline of what you'd be helping him with. you provided him with the names of all the textbooks and materials he'd need, as well as a detailed list of all test and due dates.

you had told him that you wouldn't spoon feed him anything, and that if he wanted to get his grades up, he had to try his best. you were there for clarification on anything he deemed difficult, and for when he is struggling and to edit his notes: the way you believed tutoring should be.

seeing as mark clearly had his notes out before you arrived (late) to the library, you pulled out your own notebook, along with your textbooks, preparing for your hour long session.

"you can change the song whenever," you tell mark quietly, setting your iphone between the two of you face up on the table.

"sounds good." he nods once, fingers toying his his pencil in a way that has you feeling a little bit fuzzy.

you clear your throat, looking away as the soft melodies of gracie abrams filter through your ears. flipping open your psychology textbook, you decide you'll start to get a head start on your next assignment- not knowing when you'll have any other time to do it. between your part time job at staples, tutoring mark and your other classes: your schedule was pretty full - you didn't want to fall behind.

you just begin to read into the second paragraph of the text blurb, your highlighter moving slowly along your page - the song abruptly changes. the music pauses in your ear for only a moment and you look over to see mark as he skips the song.

he catches your stare, giving your a quick nonchalant shrug. "sorry," he mutters, going back to his notes as a new song starts to play through the mini speaker tucked in your ear.

you sigh calmly, focusing back on your textbook.

watermelon sugar doesn't even reach the chorus - harry styles' voice is cut short as the the song stops once more. you bite your tongue, choosing to ignore mark as he skips another song. but then he does it again as a lana del rey song starts to play and you grunt annoyed - turning to face mark as he skips through your phones music library completely unaware of his own annoyance levels.

"what the hell," you question firmly.

mark pulls a face, unbothered by your clear distaste, "I'm not into these songs." he says nonchalantly, skipping over shawn mendes.

you scoff, "yeah that's the whole point. just-" you push his hands away from your phone quickly, stopping him from skipping any more songs. "let the music play," you tell mark gently - reminding yourself of a mother telling her toddler to behave.

he grunts like you're the one being annoying and that sort of makes you want to punch him in the gut. obviously you don't, and you choose to ignore mark and get back to your assignment.

a good 20 minutes pass without the song switching unnaturally, and anytime you take a curious peek towards mark out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he looks focused on his work. you gloat to yourself, happy with the success of your music studying idea.

mark only nudges you to ask for clarification twice, which is another small victory. since your professor appointed you to be marks tutor, you and mark have met up a handful of times for lessons. it seemed like he still likes to tease you just like he always has and that can make teaching him and spending time with him very challenging- but you've gotten used to his antics now (for the most part).

mark has gotten better with understanding the readings you've been giving him over the past few weeks of tutoring as well. not only that, but his essays have needed less editing.

your professor is very happy with the success, and is very adamant to keep working with mark until he reaches a B average. he's brought his average up to a C rather than a D+ so it was very much a work in progress still but he was getting there.

your thoughts are halted when the music pauses once again - an abrupt change to silence from the soft melodies of the music. irritated, you turn to give mark an earful for stopping the song once more, but you pause.

mark looks a bit starstuck - giving you a perplexed look with his brows raised in questions. his plump lips are agape as his eyes dart between you and your phone.

"hold on..what did taylor just say?" he questions curiously, still looking very much shocked.

"mark, you're not supposed to be listening to the music." you tell him tiredly, exhaling deeply as you look over at him.

he gives you another look of perplexity, "how am I supposed to ignore lyrics like that? run that part back."

"no," you laugh once, pushing away his hand once he tries to reach out to rewind the song, "we are not dissecting taylor swift lyrics." you tell him.

"but i'm bored," mark all but whines, head falling as he rocks back in the wooden library chair. just when you go to scold him for his dangerous seating position, mark continues, "and im done all my work that you planned for today! so tell me what the hell dear john is about."

you give him one more look of unsureness, knawing on your lips as you glance briefly at your work and textbooks infront of you. one more look at marks soft features has you breaking, your shoulders deflating as you exhale a deep long breath. "fine," you say highly, "but buckle up - because it gets crazy."

1:54 a.m.

mark

I can't stop thinking about john mayor

mark

like what an asshole

y/n

it's almost 2 in the morning

mark

I didn't know taylor swift went off like that in her songs. are there more like that?

y/n

yes

mark

you gotta send me them because i'm getting into this

mark

wait, why are you awake?

y/n

why are you awake

mark

I asked you first

y/n

can't sleep yet

mark

why?

y/n

are you always so nosy ?

mark

always.

y/n

i've got a english lit test tomorrow and im still studying for it. idk if im prepared or if I will pass

mark

you're kidding right ? you're like the the smartest person I know. you'll ace it

y/n

maybe

mark

you will

mark

I think you should take a break and make me a taylor swift playlist

y/n

you're so bossy

mark

you love it

mark

don't stress about your test seriously. you do the best when you believe in yourself

mark

and if there's a 10th seat available in the 5th row...they better watch out

y/n

who are you and what have you done with mark estapa ?

mark

ha ha

mark

send me the playlist as an apology for that comment

tutoring lesson 11

you knaw on your lip, feeling the skin you've shredded between your teeth. your eyes dance over the white paper, marked with red pen once more, skimming the notes and numbers.

you release your lip, a small sigh coming out of your mouth. "it's okay."

mark groans at the sight of your face, very much indicating that it was indeed not okay. "I flunked it." he says disappointed, eyes drooping with what is no doubt exhaustion.

you knew that last night mark had a game, only after he had asked you to come watch what he claims is the 'best sport to watch live' - to which you declined...again. that combined with his busy schedule left him little to no time for the extra studying you suggested he should do before the test. clearly- that didn't happen.

"you didn't flunk," you remind mark again, placing his test down on the white table top in your booked study room, the shiny red C on the top right corner staring back at you. "it's a C. your grade won't change."

"but it won't get better," mark sighs, running his hands through his hair. "I studied as much as I could, I swear." he looks at you wide eyed and panicked, and you feel a pang of guilt all the way down to your toes.

"I know you did," you reassure him, "but sometimes in order to retain the information better, you need to switch up your study methods. for the next test we will change it up, and we can study extra. don't stress."

he sighs sadly, dropping his head backwards so his view is of the crisp white ceiling of the secluded room. "fuck, I don't want to fuck up and not be able to play." he admits with defeat, blinking heavily.

"we aren't going to get to that point, not when you got me - the smartest person you know - tutoring you, right?" gently, you nudge your elbow into his side, teasing him.

mark looks back at you, smirking softly at your attempt to get him out of his momentary slump. "right."

"okay, so let's just forget about this test for now, we can go over it another time." you push the paper away and off to the side of the table, hiding it from his line of vision.

mark watches you with a fond expression, that same smirk on his lips you've grown to learn is almost always present in your presence.

"today we will go over this new material first, sound good?" looking over, you find mark already looking at you - your eyes meeting softly.

ever so slightly, you feel your face fall - inhaling sharply at the fond expression on marks face. he is closer than you expected, and you don't think you've ever been this close to mark. at this proximity, you notice how prominent the freckles on the bridge of his nose are and how rich his eyes are.

"sounds good." mark says gently. you snap out of your head, and you clear your throat, turning your attention back to your textbook and the lesson plan that you had pulled up on a word doc on your laptop.

throughout the rest of your lesson with mark, you'd often find yourself admiring his face, weather it was his side profile or full frontal. you'd watch the way mark's tongue would dart out when he was writing and the way he'd roll his eyes anytime he had to read something boring.

you notice how his nose is perfectly shaped for his face, and how his stubble is starting to grow in, giving his usual baby face a more rugged appearance. you take notice of how often he runs his hand through his hair, and how when he was trying to understand something, he'd knaw on the skin around his thumb.

you also see how he was solely focused on spending this time working on the new material. mark never sighed with impatience, and he never once picked up his cell phone for a distraction- even when it was buzzing crazy on top of the table.

the only time he stopped working was to annoy you - of course.

8:21 p.m.

....incoming facetime from mark

....missed facetime from mark

8:22 p.m.

mark

sorry didn't mean to call you

y/n

that's okay

mark

fuck. yeah I did

mark

I wanna talk to you

y/n

are you okay? what's up?

mark

nothing bad. i'm just bored

y/n

what do you want me to do about that ??

mark

entertain me obviously

y/n

oh my apologies your highness

mark

apology accepted

mark

what's your favourite movie ?

y/n

why..?

mark

don't be weird and just answer the question

y/n

okay fine

y/n

confessions of a shopaholic. what's yours?

mark

fast & the furious

mark

only the first one though

y/n

are the others ones bad?

mark

not the best

mark

wait...have you never seen fast & the furious ?

y/n

mark

omg. you have to ! like no i'm actually making you

y/n

okay then i'm making you watch confessions of a shopaholic 😗

mark

i've already seen it babe

y/n

did you just call me babe ? 🫣

mark

oh yeah i did. you love it ?

y/n

omg no stop 😭😭

mark

in fact it's going to be your new name in my phone ! bc you love it so much

y/n

you're annoying

"what's so funny over there?" your roommate sabrina questions - her voice full of amusement and curiosity. she pulls one of her earbuds out, eyeing you from her spot on the small love seat.

you look up at the sound her voice rather quickly, adjusting your position on your chair to seem natural. "nothing really." you're not sure why it feels like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't - but you can't help but feel guilty. you laugh once, running a hand through your loose hair. "nothing worth repeating."

sabrina quirks an eyebrow at your odd actions, and she eyes you over suspiciously. it doesn't take long for her brain to come to a conclusion- you can practically see a light bulb flick on above her head of blonde hair. her eyes widen and she springs up from her lounged position, her other earbud falling into her lap. "are you talking to a guy?" she squeals.

you scoff roughly and definitely too loud, giving your friend a perplexed look. "what? no."

"you so are." sabrina says giddily, covering her cheeks with palms. "only guys can get you smiling like that. spill - who is he?" she leans further forward on the couch, closer to you and your spot on the adjacent chair.

"sabrina," you sigh gently, a small laugh nonchalant following, "it's nothing like that...it's just mark - he's just annoying me like usual."

she hums once, leaning back into an upright position, "right. how is that going by the way?"

you feel your stomach swoop and your cheeks threaten to burn red. "how is what going?" you question nervously, toying with the string of your pyjama pants.

"the tutoring....obviously." she chimes, something between an amused smile and a confused one settled on her round face.

obviously she means the tutoring, you think. there is no other relation between yourself and mark estapa that warrants any type of questioning. but then why do you feel the way you're feeling - your brain questions you.

"fine," you answer quickly, dismissing the annoying turmoil in your own head.

if sabrina thinks your acting weird she doesn't say anything, only watching you as you tug on your string and answer her question. you continue, cheeks flushed at her curious stare, "we are really making progress."

she hums, "this is still the same mark estapa that was fighting you for a seat in class - right?"

you purse your lips, "mhmm."

her lips tug up in a way that's unfamiliar to you, but she looks happy so you don't question her "well, i'm glad there's no more hostility then."

you pause, tilting your head as you think. "not as much." you correct her.

sabrina just shrugs, tucking one of her earphones back in. "who knows," she chimes, giving you one last look, "maybe the two of you will become friends after all this." she doesn't give you a chance to respond, putting her second airpod in and continuing her netflix show.

you exhale, head falling back against the chair with exhaustion. "maybe," you whisper to yourself.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, and you pick it up, your text thread with mark still up on your screen.

mark

i've changed it! too late

mark

okay now you have to ask me a question. that's how this works

mark

oh so you're ignoring me

mark

ur gunna make me cry

you smile and begin to type a response.

—

mark had always loved street parties. the atmosphere of everybody gathered outside gave him a sense of belonging and comfortability - the fresh air combined with unlimited space to move around and mingle always trumped a cramped house party.

often, mark as well as the wolverines roster found themselves mingling with their friends and classmates at any and every street party they managed to catch wind of. after all, with their busy schedules, it was sometimes the only time they got to mingle with one another.

tonight was no exception. mark was nursing his second beer of the night, the condensation dripping down his hand and off his wrist anytime he brought the neck up to his lips for a gulp. beside him, ethan laughs loudly at something luca points out, and mark finds himself joining in - even through he's not sure what's so funny.

suddenly, luca turns his attention towards mark, a mischievous glint in his big eyes. "I think papa estapa should find dylan and get us some more drinks."

"what? why me?" mark groans unimpressed.

"because," ethan sing songs, crushing his empty can and tossing it into the trash bin that, conveniently, was near the trio. "I got them last time."

"right, okay." mark sighs, eyes already squinted as he searches the mass of bodies gathered in the street, trying to find their social butterfly best friend, dylan duke.

"you'll find him," luca says, "hard to miss dylan with that embarrassing cooler backpack."

ethan and luca laugh loudly once again, and mark even chuckles along at the thought of dylan's prized bag he wore at every party. it was a sunshine orange coloured cooler, with frayed straps and liquid stains all over - because yes he refused to wash it in case it would 'take away its magic' - whatever that meant.

the thought of dylan's weird superstition has mark thinking of you as he walks through the sea of people. he thinks about just 48 hours ago during a tutoring session - mark remembers how your hair had been slicked back into a braid, and how shiny and soft it looked as you moved around. although, he thinks he prefers your hair down because he likes the way you hide behind it like a curtain when you're writing - or the way you constantly fiddle with the ends.

mark has been suprised with how well you have managed to take to him - especially with his constant pestering and the way he knows he pushes your buttons. he was also suprised with how smart you truly are - but then again what else did he expect with all your random facts and weird superstitions.

mark takes a moment to glance behind himself to make sure dylan hasn't slipped passed him unknowingly, but as he does so, mark bumps into something - or someone rather.

immediately, he turns and finds you.

he blinks once hard, making sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. when mark realizes you were in fact standing there, his lips tug up, peering down at you with suprise. "oh shit it's you."

you giggle lightly, head tilted so you could look at him. "it's me." you say highly, swaying in your stance.

your blinks are a little lagged and your flushed under the street lamps - that combined with the scent of fruity tequila on your breath has mark squinting suspiciously, "are you drunk?" he questions.

you scoff and look like your going to deny his accusation, but you stop yourself - pursing your lips and slowly nodding. "I may be a little tipsy."

mark smirks slowly, eyeing you teasingly, "a little?"

you nod confidently, bringing your arms behind your back so you are holding onto your own wrists. the new position has you loosing your balance and you stumble forward, barley catching yourself before falling into marks chest.

mark looks like he's holding back a laugh at your tumble and immediately you eye him irritated. "don't start." you huff, standing back to your full height.

"I didn't think this would be your sort of thing," mark admits, stepping closer to your smaller frame so he doesn't have to yell over the sound of people laughing and music blaring - allowing you to hear him more clearly over the noise. "thought you'd maybe be home - studying or something scholarly." he teases.

"i'm not into it," you admit with a slur, "i'm actually heading home. my roommate - sabrina, she said if I didn't come out with her tonight she'd put nair in my shampoo." you thumb behind your shoulder, even though sabrina wasn't there.

"brutal," mark hisses, "so where is sabrina?"

you shrug gently, looking around quickly to see if you could spot her. "don't know. she wants to stay."

he quirks a brow at you, "so you're going alone?"

you nod.

"no, i'll walk you." mark says adamantly, already patting his pockets to make sure he has everything before leaving, "you're drunk and i'm not in good conscious letting you go alone - i'm a gentleman." he still manages to teases you even when he's telling you what to do.

"i'm tipsy, not drunk. remember?" you say matter of factly, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your nose up.

"right. my apologies," mark teases you again, pulling out his phone, shooting a quick text to ethan that he'd not only be leaving the party but he didn't find dylan and couldn't yet their drinks - fend for yourselves boys.

"alright," mark hums, slipping his phone back into his jean pocket. "let's go your majesty." he holds his arm out for you to take, the gesture over exaggerated and embarrassing.

you roll your eyes, dropping your arms so you're able to grip the crook of his elbow - regardless of his teasing. after all, you were very much drunk and were happy for the stability on the walk back.

when mark finally gets you both towards the direction of the student dorms and away from the bustling crowd is when he next speaks - his hoarse but still sweet voice pulling you from your own thoughts. "I think you'd like fine bald."

you slow in your steps, looking at him inquisitively. "what?"

"you know," mark shrugs, pulling you further along the sidewalk with a gentle tug from his elbow, "in case your roommate would've actually put nair in your shampoo."

it takes your intoxicated brain a moment to register his words but once you come to, your laughing loudly, right into marks strong shoulder - your weight pushing onto mark as you lean into him.

"liar." you accuse him once your laughter subsides.

"never," mark says back. you don't say anything back, too busy trying to walk straight beside him. after a few moments, he continues, "so," mark smirks teasingly, nudging his elbow into you - the action momentarily squeezing your arms. "what's your favourite thing about me?" he questions.

you gasp with despair, your free hand coming up towards your exposed neck - clutching your imaginary pearls as you look up at the tall boy. "you're taking advantage of my drunkness," you slur accusingly, "people can't lie when they're drunk."

"thought you were just tipsy." he chimes, brow quirked at you knowingly.

"boooooo," you give him a thumbs down as you voice your opinion, which makes mark laugh, his bicep bumping into your shoulder at the movement.

you sigh loudly, deep in thought as you and mark continue further down the sidewalk, the sight of your building coming into view. "my favourite thing about you," you start soon after, "is that you're very determined, especially in your school work. it's a good quality to have."

even with your slurred speech and wobbly walk, mark can tell you're being genuine - your intoxicated state a clear indicator that you've lost any chance you had at a filter.

mark has never thought himself to be determined academically. on the ice - sure, but not with school - especially not when he was failing. clearly, you see something in him he doesn't see himself. that has him wanting to work even harder to not only improve for himself - but for you.

instead of just thanking you for the compliment, he chooses to faux frown, knowing teasing you when you're this drunk was an opportunity he wasn't going to pass up. " it's not that i'm devilishly handsome?"

mark expects you to roll your eyes like always - or even sigh all high and mighty how you tend to do when he gets on your nerves but you want to pretend your unaffected. but instead, you smile all dopey up at him, and the words that come out of your mouth are definitely ones sober you would never say. "well that definitely doesn't hurt."

"you're such a flirt tonight, y/n/n," you don't bat an eye at mark's new nickname for you, shrugging lightly at his remark. mark continues, a sarcastic sneer on his face "makes me a little sick to be honest."

"hey!" you screech, pulling away from the warmth of his muscular body, your hand unwrapping from where it was still resting in the crook of his elbow "i'll never do it again, wouldn't want little marky to feel sick from a compliment from y/n y/l/n!"

he laughs loudly at your teasing outburst and he reaches out towards your stumbling body, grabbing onto your arm and slowly pulling you back into him. "you know i'm kidding y/n."

you look up at him softly, feeling the way his breath fans across your hairline as he stands above you.

mark continues quietly, "if i'm being really honest, I want you to compliment me all the time."

you clear your throat once, breaking your eye contact. nonchalantly, your shrug. "we will see about that - depends how well behaved you are." you tease him, the two of you nearing the entrance of your building. at the end of your sentence, you burp just a little, a soft but slurred apology spewing from your lips immediately as you giggle at yourself.

it's a harsh reminder for mark that you are in fact hammered, and that you would probably have little to no recollection of the conversation in the morning.

you start walking up the three steps to your front door but pause at the first one, glancing back over at mark. "why did you take my seat from me?" you hum in question, swaying as you spin around to fully face him again," that second day of classes, why don't you just sit in the back like the first day?"

mark hisses through his teeth gently, eyeing your blissful flushed face. that day many weeks ago flashes through marks head as you stare at him - awaiting for an answer. even though mark knows you won't remember what he says anyways, he doesn't tell you why. "ask me that when you're sober." he says.

you make a fart noise with you tongue at his response, giving him another thumbs down - clearly unimpressed with his answer.

mark reaches towards you and flips your hand right way up so that it's turned into a thumbs up. you slap his hand away.

the sight of his smile and the sound of his laughter has your belly feeling funny - similar to the swoop on a drop of a rollarcoaster. you turn away from him, key in hand as you take the final two steps up.

you plunge the key into the door lock, jiggling it around until the door unlatches itself for you.

"need help upstairs?" mark asks from behind you.

you glance over your shoulder at him once again, passing the threshold of the doorway. "thought you were a gentleman, marky." you tease him knowingly, eyebrows raised in his direction.

mark tongues his cheek at your remark, nodding once at you. "goodnight y/n." he chimes.

"night night." you sing song, shutting the door gently.

tutoring lesson 18

mark jostles on his bed, sighing loudly as he shifts around. the movement has the pen gripped between your thumb and forefinger slipping - accidentally drawing a long harsh line down your homework.

slightly aggravated, you take a deep calming breath, moving around the line and continuing your work silently - cross legged on top of mark's bedspread.

after your last study session, mark complained about constantly working in the dusty library or a hospital white study room and told you he needed a change of scenery - told you his brain was going to explode if not, which made you roll your eyes at his over exaggeration.

although, you had to agree with him that the repetitive scenery was becoming tiring, and a change of location would be nice and would help benefit mark's learning.

so ahead of your current tutoring/study session, mark had texted you asking to meet at his place - he sent his address and stated his place was empty for working.

that's how you ended up on his plaid navy bedspread a few hours past his text messages - all kinds of class work laid out in front of you and mark, both of you finishing up some assignments.

once again, mark sighs loudly, flopping around his bed like a fish to try and further get your attention - his previous exaggerated sigh not working in his favour.

you take his very obvious bait, looking over at him with a quirked brow.

mark was already watching you, waiting for you to give him the attention he was wanting. "can we take a break?" he asks in a whine, similar to a naughty kid who wants to get their way, "I might throw myself off a cliff if I have to read anymore articles." he warns, flopping around some more.

you sit up, stretching the ache in your back that formed from being hunched over your studies. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, but you don't think a break is a bad idea. your back is sore and your hand was cramping from all the writing, both are practically begging you to relax.

you break, "okay, let's take a break."

the puppy dog look mark was previously sporting in your direction turns into one of relief, that same smirk he was always wearing making its much anticipated return. "alright, let's get rid of these books, i've got something in mind." he waggles his eyebrows at you, giving you a wink.

that combined with that smirk you're growing to love of his, has some inappropriate thoughts running through your head - dirty ideas increasing as mark quickly gathered all books a loose papers to clear the bed.

thankfully mark doesn't catch your flustered expression because he is too busy placing all your stuff of the floor. "we are watching a movie." he tells you happily, sitting back up on the now clean bedspread.

clearing your mind of its contents, you crawl up towards the top of the bed, joining mark. you let yourself follow suit and lean back against the headboard, supporting your torso. "what movie?" you question curiously, eyeing mark as he clicks through streaming apps on his small tv.

finally he gets to his desired one, searching through the app's favourite list. mark smirks, glancing over at you. "fast & furious obviously."

the opening credits start to play through the bedroom, the film illuminating the dim bedroom.

you groan, looking away from mark in favour of letting you head fall back against the headboard with a thud.

"don't groan yet," mark laughs gently, his thick thigh nudging against yours. "it hasn't even started."

"thank god for that," you tease him, head lulling to the side so you are able look at mark once again. you watch as his lips tug up from your teasing, a small breathy laugh leaving him as he watches the tv.

softly, you smile as well, head turning back towards fast & the furious.

a beat passes.

"wait," mark suddenly alerts, "there's not some weird science thing about a certain side of the bed for movie watching, right?" his lips tug up towards the end of his question, an obvious indicator that he was trying to make fun of you and your weird statistics and knowledge about seats.

in all seriousness, you answer. "oh not for a bed - only the movie theatre."

"oh my god" mark deadpan, turning his attention back to the loud cars on the screen and away from you. "you're such a weirdo."

you giggle to yourself, grabbing one of marks throw blankets from the end of the bed, and pulling the fuzzy material up and over your body.

slowly, your eyes flutter open. the warmth of the sun on your face working as a natural alarm clock, waking you from your sleep. your surroundings are unfamiliar in such a sleepy state - noting the navy sheets and patterned bread spread.

then, you take notice of how your cheek feels hot, and how the scent right under your nose was seemingly very familiar. your eyes widen, and under your cheek, marks chest rumbles with laughter.

you were in marks room...in his bed...sleeping on his chest.

"well, hello, sleeping beauty." he says gently above your head. "was the movie really that boring you had to fall asleep on me?"

you roll off marks chest rather quickly, ending your impromptu cuddle session. it is clearly morning based on the sun streaming in his window, meaning you had accidentally slept over at mark's - falling asleep sometime during fast & furious.

you wipe your eyes, cringing at the thought of the mascara you never had the chance to remove. you cringe harder thinking about the consequences of not washing your makeup off period. you hope sabrina isn't worried about you and you quickly shoot her a text of your location to end any sort of panic.

for the first time since opening your eyes, you finally meet mark's gaze. he's still lying down, hands behind his head as he looks at you from his spot half under the covers. the position has his biceps flexed perfectly, bulging under his tshirt - you feel yourself get warm from the sight, your body tingling pleasantly.

he quirks a brow at you questionably, still awaiting an answer to his earlier teasing.

clearing your throat, you hum. "well," you begin, your voice groggily and still thick with sleep, "wouldn't watch it again."

slowly, marks lips tug upwards into a lazy smirk. "you missed all the best parts," he tells you through his grin.

you scrunch your nose up in distaste. "I doubt that."

his mouth drops as he laughs. gently, he takes one of his pillows, using it to hit your side. before he can pull back, you grab onto the corner. mark doesn't fight you as you pull it from his grip, hitting him once in the chest with it as you laugh.

"are you guys coming to eat or what?" a voice calls from downstairs, their deep tone muffled through the bedroom door.

your brows pull together in confusion, eyeing mark.

he sits up, "ethan asked if we wanted food like 30 minutes ago, told him we'd be right down." mark whispers to you nonchalantly before shouting out a response to his roommate.

"you should've woken me," you insist, getting out of bed as mark does the same. "don't want them to think i'm rude."

mark shrugs, wordlessly tossing you a hoodie to wear. you pull it over your head immediately, the scent of mark invading your nostrils.

"couldn't wake the princess," he teases.

"shut up," you tell him.

you had only met ethan, marks roommate and teammate in passing the night prior as mark lead you upstairs for your tutoring lesson. the rest of his roommates though you had yet to meet. so breakfast (which consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon and questionably burnt toast courtesy of dylan) was spent chatting and getting to know them.

you found it rather amusing at the way all the boys kept asking you question after question - rather random ones at that. but you enjoyed it nonetheless - serving as a good distraction from the fact you woke up cuddling mark estapa because what the hell.

you shove move eggs in your mouth and ignore thinking too much about your morning surroundings, listening contently as luca fantilli asks what your favourite dinner condiment is (specifically dinner).

you don't notice all the teasing looks mark's friends were giving him when you were distracted. mark pretends he doesn't see the looks either.

the only looks he focuses on are yours - when you meet his eyes over the rim of your mug of orange juice. everytime mark has to fight off a smile.

3:28 p.m.

mark

I think my friends really liked you. definitely more than they like me

y/n

thank god :)

y/n

I was worried the whole being late for sophomore house breakfast would turn them off

mark

nah they don't give a fuck about that

mark

luca even said you were hot

y/n

really 😳

y/n

maybe you should give him my number then

mark

fuck that

mark

no way

mark

I said you're off limits

y/n

why?

y/n

are you jealous little marky?? 🥺

mark

yeah because then you'd tutor them and they'll be smarter than me

y/n

don't worry. i'll only ever tutor you 🫶🏻

mark

atta girl

tutoring lesson 21

"this isn't cute." you deadpanned, eyeing mark from across the small table.

mark smirks gently, titling his head. "no?" he asks you, brows raised curiously. you shake your head, mimicking his no, but definitively rather than questioningly.

"is it convincing, at least?" he hums, his sultry smile turning into a cheeky one - playing at his lips as he leans forward.

you squint at him.

mark sighs dramatically, leaning impossibly closer towards you across the table - so close that if you leaned forward you could kiss him. "please, y/n, you have to come to my game." he pleads.

once he sees you're not budging, mark clasp's his hands together in a loud prayer motion, "pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee-"

quickly, you place a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. "stop whining," you interrupt his plea. "my ear drums are going to start bleeding."

underneath your palm you can feel mark snicker to himself, his eyes twinkling with nothing but mischief as he looks at you.

you blush, removing your hand from his face. you can still feel the way his stubble tickled you skin and the heat of his face on you. it has you blushing deeper, wiping away the tingles.

immediately, mark starts to ask the same question he's been asking you for months. ever since your and mark's relationship has grown from strictly academic agreement to a friendship, he has been asking, begging and telling you that you need to come watch a hockey game.

every single time, you tell him no. the idea of men skating around and bashing into one another didn't sound that inviting. the way mark is looking at you now though, you can feel yourself wanting to break.

he continues, "how about if I get a B or higher on the midterm, you have come to one game."

"mark..." you sigh gently, eyeing him softly.

"just one." mark stresses again, "i'll even get you the ticket. I just want my friend there to watch me play - especially because she's never seen a hockey game." as he speaks, marks forearms falls flat on the table, reaching out so he can grab ahold of your wrists that were resting on top the desk - his thumbs stroking your skin soothingly.

a beat passes.

"okay," you sigh, "but only if you get a B."

mark smiles in victory, giving your wrist one gentle squeeze before releasing you. "you'll love it." he states.

you shrug nonchalantly, "you'll never know how i'll feel about it if you don't get back to studying." your eyes dart between him and his open textbook knowingly.

in all seriousness, mark nods, getting back to his notes as you both study from your early morning test for following day, the dim lights of the study room providing a calming atmosphere as you both concentrated on the task.

mark finds himself focusing on you a little while later- lost in watching you study the material. the way you twisted your hair around your finger, gently sucking on the end of your pen as you intently read the article laid in front of you.

he shuffles in his seat at the sight, clearing his throat and looking down towards his notes quickly. it isn't a moment later when marks eyes gravitate back towards you, his mouth opening slightly as he watches you pull your hair into a yellow claw clip, small wisps falling out to give you that hot librarian look that fulfilled all of marks childhood fantasies.

feeling marks stare, you look up to meet his eyes, raising your brows at his suspicious expression. the pen falls from your lips as you question him. "are you okay?"

"yeah - no," he huffs, "you sucking that pen, fuck - you're kind of turning me on." he admits shamelessly, wiggling in his seat again in a way that has you gawking wordlessly.

"what?" you think you've turned permanently beat red at his confession, eyes blown wide and brows raised towards him.

"you gotta stop before I have to leave," mark laughs gently, rubbing the back of his neck, "it's been awhile since I got laid so that's not helping."

"mark!" you screech, dropping your pen in favour of covering your ears with your palms, blocking out anymore things mark felt the need to admit. "I don't want to know that!"

your loudness has mark laughing, the sight of you getting so easily flustered is just too good. he nudges your foot with his own under the table, a subtle signal that he wasn't going to say anything else to embarrass you and that you could uncover your ears.

slowly you release the press from your palms, the humming of the air conditioning unit coming back to you.

mark doesn't move his foot away, letting it rest between your two under the table. it has you unable to focus for the rest of your booked study room time.

10:59 p.m.

mark

so do you need to borrow one of my jerseys to wear to the game ? 😉

y/n

don't get ahead of yourself cowboy. test hasn't happened and there's a week before we know the grade

mark

it'll be a B

mark

not sure if you know this but I have this really smart tutor

y/n

oh yeah ? tell me more

mark

well...

mark

she tried to seduce me today by sucking off her pen

y/n

i'm blocking you

—

it wasn't often that you'd go out the bars, but you and your two closest friends preferred it over roudy frat parties and nightclubs. after taking your first midterms of the year, you all planned on celebrating with a couple drinks at the local bar.

a place you'd been before, but for some reason the night felt....off. you told sabrina and your other mutual friend, taylor, that you'd get the next round of drinks after using the bathroom but you had an uneasy feeling as soon as you stepped up to the bar alone.

you hadn't yet got the bartenders attention, so you were just waiting off towards the end of the bar, that same weird feeling in your belly.

"hey," a voice said to your left, that unsettling feeling growing as a person joined you - there voice husky and breath too warm against your face. "pretty lame bar right?"

you turn your head to see a guy around your age - in fact, you're pretty sure you've seen him around campus. which would make sense considering the bar was only a 5 minute uber ride from student buildings.

you smile politely, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. "eh, all bars seem to be the same anyways." you turn your attention back to the bar, trying to grab the young female bartenders attention so you could get back to your table and leave the presence of this guy. your belly swirls with discomfort once more.

the guy doesn't get the hint, and moves closer to you. "I think i've seen you around campus, it's y/n, right?"

you furrow your brows but nod anyways, "yeah, that's me."

"i'm Landon," he says. "hey, think we should get out of here? talk somewhere quiet?" you feel his hand graze your side and immediately you push away, trying to create a sense of distance between you.

"i'm okay."

"c'mon," he laughs, "it be fun." his lingering touch turns into a harsh grip on your waist, fingers squeezing your ribs through your flowy top.

your brows raise, and you try and push him off of you once more. unfortunately, it's an unsuccessful attempt and your face drops with numbness and panic starts to become unbeatable. "let go of me," you manage to hiss, elbowing his ribs as you try and get him off you.

just when you think you may have to scream out for help, somebody calls out somewhere in the bar. you briefly see a familiar tall figure with soft blonde hair, and you feel like you can breath again.

"hey!" like an angel, mark appears beside you, removing landon's hands off and putting his much larger body between you and the creep before you - making the space you were desperately needing.

mark looks angry - which you didn't think golden retriever mark was capable of. his eyes narrow towards landon, "stop touching my girl like she's a piece of meat, fucking prick."

landon laughs disgustingly as he eyes mark back - a sound that has your skin crawling. although mark has never looked very intimidating, this new found anger makes him seem anything but.

landon doesn't seem to agree as he bites back. "she can do better, bud" unfortunately, he isn't backing down from the confrontation. you become even more nervous than before, quickly searching the crowd to see if you can spot of of marks teammates for a helping hand.

"I can make you look worse," mark threatens, stepping closer. his broad chest practically pushes landon back, and he stumbles once.

landon snickers, pushing him away. you watch him eye mark once more, and then hesitate. thankfully, he finally chooses to back down, stepping away from mark. "whatever man." the creep sends you one more disgusting look as he backs away.

you feel yourself relax immediately, a breath you weren't aware you were holding finally coming out. once landon is no longer in eyesight, mark turns his body fully towards you, eyes rather frantic as he looks over you. "are you okay? he didn't hurt you or anything?"

you shake your head, running a trembling hand through your hand. "I'm okay," you take a deep breath, meeting marks concerned gaze. "I didn't know you were here."

"I'm glad I was," mark says in a tone of something similar to disbelief - disbelief of what he just has to stop assumedly. "what a fucking dick."

you look down at your shoes with embarrassment. you can't believe you were in such a terrible situation in which you felt defenceless. you were embarrassed with yourself for not fighting back stronger. "i'm sorry," you mutter gently, meeting marks eyes again.

his blue gaze is still swimming with worry combined with a million other emotions. marks brows pull together, creating a little divot above the bridge of his nose. he shakes his head slightly, hands reaching up delicately before holding your cheeks in his warm palms, cradling you in his hands. "don't apologize." he tells you gently, a thumb stroking once over your cheekbone.

you swallow thickly, nodding at him. "thank you. you didn't have to go that."

"it's least I could do after everything you've done for me." mark says sincerely and you feel like melting into a soupy puddle right at his feet. then, like he's done it before, his hands travels to the back of your head, using the leverage to pull you into his broad chest, his other hand wrapping around your shoulders.

it was...new and rather nice and you heat up in the best possible way. you let yourself relax into his body, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you try and calm your erratic heart rate. immediately, your earlier embarrassment and upset stomach fade away until all you can feel is marks steady heartbeat and his head on top of yours.

"you sure you're okay?" mark pulls back slightly, keeping his hands on you as he dances over your face again. it's all very endearing and overwhelming in the best way.

you nod again, face heating up under his intense gaze, "yeah but i'll probably head out now, not really up for drinks anymore."

"I was actually on my way out before I saw you," mark tells you, "was gunna go to denny's for some pancakes if you wanted to come with."

your stomach rumbles at the thought of fluffy pancakes and sweet syrup with mark. "you sure?"

"I want you to come," mark says gently. "gotta make sure you're okay and not lying to me."

"okay," you say lightly, a smile beginning to blossom at marks sweet words and evident concern for your wellbeing. it was....really nice.

hours later, after a belly full of food and a night of once shock and discomfort turning into one full of laughter with mark, his roommates, and your friends do you register what mark had said to landon.

stop touching my girl.

tutoring lesson 27

your eyes danced over you computer screen as you read over your lesson plan for mark. you were currently waiting for him in the booked study room, the glass door still open for some white noise as you waited for his arrival.

suddenly, the steady sound of students talking amongst themselves and shoes squeaking on the aluminum tiles become more chaotic - an all too familiar voice invading your ears as it splews apologies.

you look up just to see mark weaving through students, making his way quickly towards the study room, apologizing to people as he bumped into them. your brows furrow at his sense of urgency as he approaches.

"mark?" you question once he passes the threshold of the open door, "are you okay?" you quickly give him a once over, checking him for any injures or threats - he looks fine (too fine, your brain reminds you).

mark doesn't answer you question - he can't with how big the smile on his face has grown. he takes two steps towards the desk you're sitting at, giving you a victorious look before slapping a booklet down.

you look down just as mark removes his large hand from the top of the paper, and a shiny B+ grade stares back at you - as well as a ticket to the next michigan wolverines home game.

"not just a B," mark says joyfully, breaking the silence, "but a B+."

you meet his eyes once more, and you can feel your lips beginning to tug upwards. finally, all of marks hard work has payed off and this grade would bring his average up to a B - which was what he was required to have in order to stay in the athletic department at the university of michigan.

"i'm so proud of you," you say truthfully, rounding the table quickly until you are standing in front of him.

mark hugs you - his hands sliding under your open jacket to hold onto you closely. you stiffen slightly at the feeling of his warm palms against your body, but he doesn't seem to notice.

you hug him back just as tightly.

you two pull away from one another shortly after, smiles on both of your faces as you bask in the successful feeling hanging in the air.

like gravitational pull, your eyes wander back over to the test booklet and hockey ticket abandoned on the table.

you purse your lips, reaching out to pick up the thick ticket paper - toying with the edge teasingly. you look up at mark once more, and still he's eyeing you, one brow quirked as he watches you curiously.

"so," you hum, "what does one wear to a hockey game?"

—

5:11 p.m.

y/n

wait where do I park??

y/n

oh wait you're probably not on your phone right now

mark

i'm here. you're good

mark

anywhere is section A

y/n

and you said any entrance right?

mark

that's right 🙂‍↕️

y/n

i'm a little nervous. is that stupid ?

mark

no not stupid. i think you're just excited to see the real men play a real sport 💪

y/n

omg 🙄

mark

i've got you a seat with kayleigh - rut's girlfriend. you'll like her

y/n

and how would you know that ??

mark

c'mon y/n/n. you should know how well I know you by now

mark

stand at the glass for warmups. I want to see you

you do really like kayleigh - which, of course you would because as much as you hate to admit it, mark does know you by now. all the months of knowing each other plus the hours upon hours you and him had spent together - it was bound to happen.

something else you should've known was bound to happen was the feelings you've encountered spending so much time with mark. you can't ignore the way your heart rate changes when you see him, or the way you flush when he stares at you all soft. you've become infatuated with the way mark smells and how he pushes your buttons and how kind he is.

the you at the beginning of the school semester would've never expected this from mark estapa. you assumed he was stuck up, and didn't care about his academics or peers. but the real mark was determined and caring and only wanted to make your tutoring experience fun. no wonder you felt like you were falling for him.

kayleigh's small elbow nudges your side, affectively pulling you from your daydreaming.

"looks like you've got an admirer coming your way," kayleigh teases quietly beside you, her perfect sweet smile nothing but comforting.

although your brows furrow, you can't help but smile back instinctually, turning your attention back towards the ice through the glass infront of you - just in time to see mark skate over to the boards where you and kayleigh stand.

he smiles big, coming to a fast stop - ice sliding up and off his skates blades so the glass becomes snowed. mark pushes away any lingering flurries, making your view of him once again clear.

"are you having fun?" he asks you, one of his gloved hands smacking against the glass between you to keep your attention in the loud arena.

his voice muffled the the pane, but you can hear just how happy he is. you nod wordlessly, your own smile making mark's grow bigger.

"good," he says.

you finally notice mark is holding a puck in that hand he used to hit the glass only moments before. you quirk a brow at him, but marks too focused on tossing the puck on the air, signalling to you that he wanted to throw it over.

once he knows you're paying attention and aware of his intentions, mark tosses the puck over the glass, the rubber biscuit falling right into your awaiting hands.

with the most teasing enthusiasm you can manage, you hold the icy puck to your chest, fanning yourself with your other hand. "always such a gentleman."

mark smirks at your remark and then he winks at you - skating away from the glass to continue his warm ups.

you flutter all over.

watching the wolverines play turned out to be really enjoyable. the sport itself was better than you expected - it was fast paced and aggressive. it seemed like something was always happening, which kept you interested and focused. you were even more focused on mark though. anytime he was on the ice, you felt yourself slip into a trance. he moved so skillfully and played so aggressively and motivated. you could finally understand to the full extent of why staying on the team was so important to him.

after the game, kayleigh said her and some of the other girls would stay around and wait for the guys to come out of the locker room to greet one another after a win. you weren't going to protest, and blindly followed her through the wolverines area and down towards the players tunnels.

when mark had seen you there, he lit up - greeting you in a warm hug and keeping you in within arms length as you all chatted after their win. when mark insisted he would drive you home and bring you back the next morning for your car - well, you obviously gave in and agreed.

that's how you ended up in mark's car, enthusiastically asking him a million questions about hockey - even the questions that you think seem stupid and are positive he's answered a million times before. mark lets you though, answering you questions with just as much excitement as you have.

mark flicks his blinker on, signaling his pull off on the night lit streets. he expertly parallel parks right infront of your building, turning towards you with a smile still on his face once he turns the car off. "so safe to say you'd come again?"

you let your head fall against the headrest gently, a tired grin taking over your rosy lips. "I would."

mark mimics your position, turning his body towards you in the driver's seat. "seeeee," he drags out with a gin, "I knew you would like it. I said I was smarter than you thought."

you frown slightly, "I knew you were smart."

his smile changes, a more earnest one taking over. marks teasing eyes turn soft as he eyes you in the dark car. "really?"

you nod once, "yeah - well, expect for when you tried to beat my to my seat everyday. I didn't think that was very smart of you."

he chuckles breathily at your teasing, tucking his lip between his teeth to try and contain his grin. "maybe," his voice is quieter, almost a whisper as he leans closer towards you, resting on the middle console. like gravity, you join him, leaning in. mark continues, "I had a reason."

"oh yeah?" you inquire breathlessly, brows quirked in his direction. "and whats that?"

he shrugs and continues to whisper. "maybe I wanted to sit near this pretty girl who sat there."

the air in the car morphs into a thick syrup, turning your skin hot and sticky. your lips tug up in a small but timid smile. "just maybe?"

marks tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip in a way that has your toes curling and stomach filling with butterflies - bashing against your insides and tickling at your desires.

"most definitely," he shrugs nonchalantly, but the smirk that follows his words are anything but. mark leans in impossibly closer before you can form any thoughts or words. "can I confess something?"

"mhm," you hum, eyes fluttering on instinct.

his voice is deeper than normal, and he sounds so sultry that you may just pass out. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"i'm okay with that," you whisper after a beat of happily thick silence.

the last thing you see is marks beautiful smirk as he reaches up and grabs ahold of your face - nudging his nose against yours once, gently, before resting it against yours. finally, after weeks of wanting him to, mark leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

mark kisses in a way we weren't expecting. his lips were soft but he was rougher in his movements - confident in the way he held you and slotted his lips with yours. you're coming to realize that everything about mark is unexpected in the best way.

by the time you've pulled away, you're both breathless. the press of mark's forehead on yours helps keep you grounded, and you laugh lightly.

"can I confess something else," he breathes, that teasing smile still staring back at you.

"if it's as good as the last thing you confessed i'm all ears." you smile, brushing the tip of your nose across his.

he laughs once as you pull back again, shaking his head slightly as he admires you. "you're still turning me on." mark grins boyishly.

you squeal with laughter, smacking his chest gently. "mark!" you drag out, "you're so gross."

"yeah." he whispers, half and agreement half a question. he leans back in, connecting your lips again. you blush, hands resting against his neck as you reciprocate the kiss.

—

all night, you couldn't stop thinking about mark. which was inevitable considering he had slept over at your place, both of crammed in your tiny twin bed -laughing and talking (and making out) until the early hours of the morning.

he drove you back to the arena the next morning and on the ride there anytime you thought of how mark's gangly feet hung off the end of your bed, you'd enter a fit of laughter - and everytime mark knew you were making fun of him, so he would tickle your side quickly to annoy you.

it was all so domestic and tooth rooting levels of sweet your stomach hurt in the best way.

mark kissed you gooodbye before he had to go home and shower before his afternoon classes, and all was good and perfect and you really like him.

then the evening came, and you hadn't heard from him since he dropped you off. you didn't think too much of it though, assuming he was probably exhausted. a hockey game as well as a shitty and short sleep was bound to have him passed out for the night.

but then the next day was also radio silent. no pointless texts or facetime calls. no memes in your direct messages or unfunny tiktok's waiting on the app.

the third day, the day of your shared morning class, you spot him. mark doesn't look sick or tired and you can see his phone in his pocket meaning he still has one and it's working - every and any excuse you've made for mark about his sudden silence is no longer plausible. he was just simply ignoring you.

you march over, grabbing his forearm before he can walk into class. he looks confused at first, but once mark sees that it's you touching him, his eyes widen ever so slightly, face pale as he takes in your angry and confused expression.

"have a second?" you ask with faux sweetness. you don't wait for a reply, gripping his arm tighter and dragging him away from the entrance of the class. you march down the hall until its quieter, releasing his arm and turning to face him once the coast seems to be clear.

you raise a brow in his direction, "you're ignoring me."

"am I?" he asks awkwardly, running a hand through his hair nonchalantly.

you roll your eyes. "don't play stupid mark - we both know you're not stupid." you grit out, arms crossing over one another as you stare him down. "I don't understand what happened. I thought we were friends? I thought..." you trail off, swallowing thickly as emotion starts to scratch away at your throat.

a beat passes.

"thought what?" marks asks you harshly. his tone of voice has you confused, and you shuffle backwards, putting some distance between you. tears start to claw at your eyes, stinging you.

he laughs slightly, "I mean, listen, thanks for tutoring me and all but we're good now. we can go back to just classmates or whatever."

"are you being for real?" you whisper. your once angry crossed arms have turned into ones of defence, wrapping around you like a soft hug.

"yeah," he clears his throat, eyeing the floor "we're done now, I don't need you hanging around anymore and telling me what to do."

he couldn't even look at you. you purse your lips, nodding in a disgusted understanding. "fine," you say, "we're done then."

you ignore the way your voice cracks, turning heel and waking away from mark. you pass right by the open door of the lecture hall, not having the emotional capacity to be in the same space as the guy who just broke your heart.

—

you spent the following day wallowing in your own tears and self pity. you can't help but think that you've read his signals incorrectly. you think mark was only being civil to make your arrangement easier. he didn't want to be friends with you or date you - maybe he just wanted to hook up with you and then dump you. that thought is the worst of them all.

when you told sabrina the short conversation you last had with him, she was of course angry because, in her words, 'who does he think he is? fucking with you like that!'

she quickly assured you that you didn't do anything wrong and if his intentions weren't to pursue anything but friendship with you - he failed miserably.

a week after your brief fight with mark outside your shared lecture hall, you sit in your sweats on the living couch. still very much grumpy and angry with the wolverines player.

you were waiting for sabrina to get back from work before turning on the previous nights episode of the bachelor - munching on oreos and scrolling your phone aimlessly when you hear a knock at the door.

without thinking much of it, you make your way over. sabrina, as much as you love her, is a very forgetful person and it was often you had to let her back into your shared place after she'd forget her set of keys.

expect it's not sabrina, and your teasing remark dies on your tongue.

"i'm sorry." mark breaths as soon as the door opens between you. "I fucked up."

your momentary shock subsides and you laugh in disbelief, "yeah. you did." you shut the door in his face, walking away. if mark couldn't even find it in himself to look you in the eye while he broke your heart and told you that you were nothing more than a tutor - why should you let him look at you now.

"please, y/n/n," he pleas through door. softly, his forehead hits the wood, a dull thud echoing through your home. "i'm here to apologize."

you wouldn't let yourself cry - you've done enough crying the past week for years and years to come. you've done plenty enough crying over some stupid hockey player.

without a response from you, mark takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes as he tries to gather his scattered thoughts.

"I said stupid things to you," he starts against your closed door, "stupid things I didn't mean. you are more than just my tutor okay? I do still need you because you're important to me. I only pushed you away because - fuck - i've never felt these feelings before and you made me nervous. honestly, you still make me nervous."

mark can't find it in himself to care that your neighbours - possible classmates of his even, could be and are most likely listening in as he talks to you through the door you shut in his face.

he sighs again, silently cursing to himself.

"awhile ago...when I walked you home after we ran into one another at that street party," he pauses, wetting his lips. the action feels useless, all moisture in his mouth feels gone. "you asked me why I took your seat that second day. y/n, I took that seat only on the pure hope you'd sit in it again. when I saw you that first day of classes, I thought you were the most beautiful girl i'd ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. so the next day, I took it because I wanted any excuse to talk to you.

when you started going on about the importance of that seat that day, I knew you'd try and get it back....so I took the opportunity and tried to take it before you because I wanted you to interact with me...even just a little. and I would do it again if it meant I'd get to know you the way you've allowed me to."

mark is still alone in your buildings hallway. he listens intently against the door, but he doesn't hear any shuffling. it's silent - you're not coming back to him. his eyes close with disappointment - not with you but himself.

he pulls out his phone and opens your text thread.

your phone buzzes against the counter top and you look over quickly. the skin around your thumb is probably thanking you as you drop it from between your teeth - a nervous habit you'd always had.

you use a shoulder to wipe the tears that had leaked from your eyes, opening your phone to see a text.

a pre-made playlist from mark estapa is staring at you.

"I fucked up, i'm so so so sorry."

you sniffle quitley, scrolling through the few songs he'd curated for you.

mark speaks again, "I made you this. its okay if you don't want to talk, okay? fuck, I just needed to apologize -"

his voice becomes clear as you pull open the door that separates you from him and his apology is put to a halt. he looks shocked and nervous at the same time - the top of his cheekbones flushed and the rest of his face pale. you've never seen mark look so distraught and immediately, you know he is feeling guilty.

"you know you fucked up, right? like you're not just saying it so that ill forgive you and you can get into my pants?"

marks brows are pulled tight and he frowns roughly, "no, definitely not. I really fucked up and i'm really fucking sorry. you don't even need to forgive me but I just need you to know that I didn't mean any of that bullshit last week."

you still look hesitant, eyeing him as he stands before you. mark sighs gently, taking the smallest step towards you. "I need you, y/n. I need you like I need hockey and need the sun. you've become one of my best friends and I can't imagine not sitting beside you in class anymore. you're the reason i'm still playing hockey." he pauses. "I need you because I'm falling for you, y/n. and I can't go another day of hiding it."

"can I confess something?" you whisper waterly. you don't wait for a reply and continue, "I really like you and have for awhile now. I'm falling for you even harder - and," you take a deep breath, your body falling limp as you stare up at him. "...I really want to kiss you."

that smirk you love oh so much is back, and so is the colour in marks face. you smile with him just as he kisses you. the feeling so warm and familiar and right.

you've always loved statics and facts. one you've always found fascinating is how only 28% of college relationships end up marrying. now, logically speaking, that's isn't very high but as you stand in your doorway, mark estapa's hands in your hair and his lips on yours - you think that you may be apart of that statistic.

thank god for your seat war.

────��──── ౨ৎ ─────────

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa #michigan wolverines #michigan hockey #umich wolverines #wolverines hockey #michigan wolverines imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey fic

287 notes · View notes

eloves-writes · 6 months ago

Note

💜 with carlos sainz!! could you make it spicy? it's ok if you don't want to as well it's your choice :)

fun fact! i can see you was one of my surprise songs at the eras tour and it is very near and dear to my heart😌😌 is this secret relationship trope overdone? yes. will that stop me? no!

song lyric prompt: “i can see you waiting down the hall from me, i can see you up against a wall with me” i can see you ~ taylor swift💜

warnings: kissing, reader n carlos being cute, slightly suggestive, oblivious charles leclerc

————————————————————

the whole press conference, you kept finding your eyes wandering over to carlos opposite you on the large sofa. he looked so beautiful today in his ferrari shirt with his summer break tan and messy yet perfect hair; this was the first time you’d seen him since the last race in spa, not managing to align your vacation plans but mostly not wanting to rouse suspicion if you were caught a beach together somewhere. the secrecy was fun and adrenaline pumping, it made you feel like you were in high school again sneaking around behind your parent’s backs- of course, the stakes were much higher due to your on track ‘rivalry’ with the spaniard. at least, the battling for positions and pushing each other off track was interpreted by the media as such; in reality, it was playful, teasing foreplay that you both enjoyed so much that the thought of getting caught and letting everybody else in on your little game disappointed you both immensely.

when the floor was opened up for questions from the journalists, hands shot up as usual and a question headed straight for you.

“this is for y/n and carlos,” the woman started, respectful in her tone which you appreciated after the shit men had asked you in the years since you started racing. “we’ve all liked watching your on-track battles so far this year, but we wonder if you two are coming in just as hot to the second half of this season, or has the rivalry cooled off over the summer break?”

she posed a valid question, but truthfully it was one you wondered the answer to yourself. had the heat between you cooled in each other’s absence? and if it had, was there an on-track rivalry without the off-track affair?

after a beat of silence allowing you both to think, carlos spoke.

“i don’t know about y/l/n, here,” he answered, connecting his big brown eyes with yours and making your stomach flip. “but i’m coming in just as hot.”

you knew what he was really saying. you paused for a second before answering yourself:

“me too,” you responded playfully. “carlos is a great driver, but i’m better.”

as you walked off the stage back to your team’s garage, a hand grabbed your waist and carlos leant down to level his lips with your ear.

“i’m good, but you’re better, huh?”

you turned to look at him, trouble in your eyes. “that’s what i said, yep.”

he grabbed your hand and swiftly dragged you into the ferrari garage without anyone seeing. pushing you up against the wall of the corridor, he kissed you feverishly and you kissed him back, welcoming the taste of his perfect lips on yours again and the gentle pull of his hands tangled in your hair.

“i missed you, cariño,” he breathed, pulling away from the kiss to take in every inch of your face as you did the same to him. you would never tire of seeing him so close up, admiring each feature like it was carved from marble. but it wasn’t; he was so, so real.

“mhm, you’re coming in just as hot,” you teased, quoting his answer to the reporter earlier.

carlos chuckled and nodded his head. “oh yeah. i’m definitely hot for you.”

his sarcastic tone made you laugh, leaning up to kiss him again. the kiss turned from sweet to rough in an instant, and your arms which had been previously draped around his neck dropped to hem of his shirt so your hands could explore his toned stomach under the red fabric as you continued to kiss him. his own hands fell to your ass, grabbing it in a way that pushed your hips forward into his crotch, earning a groan from the taller man.

footsteps down the hall took you out of your intimate moment, immediately removing your hands from each other and putting some needed distance between your bodies. you snorted when you noticed the semi forming in carlos’ jeans, and he lightly hit you on the arm for laughing.

“not my fault,” he said quietly through gritted teeth.

“you dragged me in here,” you whispered. “so kinda is.”

he hit you on the arm again as the source of the footsteps approached and carlos’ teammate came into view. he looked from you to carlos, suspicious.

“think you’re in the wrong garage, y/l/n,” charles joked, going in to hug you. “you alright? carlos hasn’t been trying anything with you, has he? can’t keep his hands to himself,” he continued, clapping his teammate on the back. carlos silently begged you not to start laughing.

“no,” you replied, using all your self control to sound calm and unbothered. “i thought i’d just come and inform him that i’m going to absolutely smash him this weekend.”

you smiled at carlos, milking the double entendre for all it was worth before leaving them both and quickly heading back to your own garage.

“you totally like her, mate,” charles laughed at his teammate once you were out of earshot. and carlos could deny it all he wanted, but he totally did.

161 notes · View notes

nev3rfound · 2 years ago

Text

anyone but you : b.b

you were Bucky's pocket of sunshine, his sweet girl outside of the avengers. a slice of normality in his less-than lifestyle, but what happens when you're pulled into it in the worst way? (2.6k)

we've got ourselves a good'un today angels, and you have @imagine-all-the-fandoms for the brill idea :)

warnings - graphic descriptions of torture and wounds. (but fluffy ending)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

“Mmh, okay. So, our options- wait stop laughing at me!” Throwing the menus in his direction, Bucky stifles the rest of his laugh by trying to play it off as a cough.

Shaking his head, Bucky picks up the menus that had been promptly thrown at him. "I'm not laughing at you doll." Bucky reasons, moving across the sofa to now kneel in front of the coffee table where you're perching opposite him looking through your phone for alternatives.

"Sure sounds like it to me." You chide, glancing up with a mischievous glint in your eyes, one Bucky can't help but get lost in, completely missing the words sounding from your lips. Clicking your fingers in front of him, Bucky snaps from the depths of his mind.

"What did you say?" Bucky asks, only elated as your grin widens into a playful smile. "Right, dinner!" Bucky slaps his hand down on his thigh before rising to his feet and dramatically clasps one hand over his eyes. "How 'bout we do the random selector, huh?"

Chuckling to yourself, you nod along before rising to your feet. "Let's do it, Barnes."

Covering your eyes as well, the pair of you reach down and clutch a menu in your grasp and open your eyes. "I got Chinese!" You announce, and Bucky grunts in disappointment as he holds up the leaflet loosely.

"I got the shitty pizza place a few blocks away." He groans, watching you cheer victoriously. "You won this time, Y/n." He rushes over to your side of the table, wrapping his arms around your waist before lifting you up, hearing you squeal before dropping the menu. "But I'll win next time, mark my words."

With your arms around his neck, Bucky dips you lowly with a smirk. "That so, Barnes?" You tease, leaning closer to his face. "We'll see." You add, closing the distance between you both with a sweet quick kiss. "Now come on, I'm starving!"

"Thirty minutes til we land, guys." Natasha announces from the front of the jet.

Unable to keep his knee from bouncing once the announcement was made, Bucky cannot stop his thoughts from returning to you. It had been a longer mission than anticipated with little to no contact with the outside world. He's so used to sending a text, a quick call to just hear your voice and know you're okay whether it be doing a mundane task or listening to you moan about a colleague.

That's one of the things Bucky loves about you; the normalcy of it all. You couldn't be more of a polar opposite to the former soldier, with a 9-5, a pension scheme, and health benefits included. Whereas he just gets thrown into the unknown more than he cares to admit and comes out slightly more traumatized with each mission.

Noting the nervous actions of his friend, Steve nudges Bucky's arm. "You got plans with Y/n once we get back?" Steve asks, knowing it'll help pass the remaining time until they land.

Within seconds the tension melts from Bucky's body and even Sam catches the barely there smile on the soldier's face.

"Going to this movie theatre she loves, it's kinda run down but she likes to call it 'old school.'" He quotes, picturing the first time you dragged him along to the theatre. "And well, I've got something planned for her, but I don't know." Bucky trails off, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Well, sounds great to me, Buck." Steve comments, moving slightly closer, and lowers his head in an attempt to keep the overs from interrupting. "So, you ever gonna bring her to the compound?"

Bucky sighs deeply and Steve backs up, knowing it's useless to even pry further into it.

"It's just so good, Steve." Bucky starts, glancing around at those around him, some looking through reports and others dozing off. "I don't want her to get enveloped in this side of our life." He explains and Steve simply nods. "I love what we have, and, and I don't wanna risk ruining that."

"Understood." Steve pats Bucky's arm. "She really brings out the best in you, you know?"

"Yeah, he's been notably less grumpy since they got together." Sam comments from the other side of the jet, receiving a brief glare from Bucky. "Less grumpy, Barnes. You're no ray of sunshine yet."

The rest of the flight sped by whilst Bucky remained deep in his thoughts which mostly circled around you. He was jolted from his memories once the jet landed and they all began to disembark.

As the team began to walk through the compound, Bucky quickly got his phone out to send you a message. But before he could even start to type one, a series of urgent texts flash up on his screen.

"Bucky?" Steve calls out to his friend who is almost frozen in place, staring down at his phone with panic written across his expression. "Buck?" Walking toward his friend, he looks down at Bucky's phone and feels his heart drop at what he's reading.

With a shaky hand, Bucky forces his head up to meet Steve's eyes. "Steve, I," He can barely form the right words, unsure what to even say. "This, this can't happen." His mind shifts to denial, but upon hearing his name being called urgently up ahead by Tony and Bruce he can feel his whole world crashing down on him.

The first sensation that came back was your smell. In hindsight, you wish it wasn't and that you could've remained senseless, but you weren't so lucky.

It smelt like metal, smoke, and sweat. Little did you know, that was all coming from you.

Your eyesight followed suit and quickly alerted your captures with delight that you were conscious at last. "Help!" You cry out, now noticing your arms shackled to a wall in a dank-looking cell. "Please, help me!" Within seconds the screams tear at your throat, scratching it raw as laughter enters your ears.

Through the shadows, a large figure emerges holding up an old school camcorder whilst he grimaces at you, eyes roaming over the wounds inflicted. "Bout time you woke up darling." The man snarls, moving closer into your enclosed space. "Wanna say hi to your friends?" Forcing the camera to your face, you're quick to turn your head away, only to feel a sweaty hand clench your jaw and force you to look directly into the lens as tears glisten in your eyes. "You know what to do if you want her back." The man comments, further confusing you about the situation before he reveals a small knife in his grasp.

"No, please," You plead, shaking your head at the sight of the knife rising before plowing it down into your thigh.

The last thing Bucky sees is your face contorted in pain, the movement of your lips as you scream in anguish. But all of the sounds have become white noise.

"Do we know who sent this?" Steve is the first to ask, noting Bucky standing too still for his own liking.

Raising his hand, Bruce swipes across and reveals three headshots of so-called reformed criminals. "Jason Donahough, Mark Whitehall, and Edward Polaski." Bruce points to each, pausing at the sound of Bucky's metal arm whirring, the plates sliding as he clenches both fists at the images.

"I know them." Bucky states through gritted teeth.

"A message was delivered with the video, we're trying to locate the source with the help of FRIDAY." Tony explains, revealing the two simple sentences.

Come get your girl, Winter Soldier. It's time to resume the game.

A shudder spreads through Bucky at the second sentence. They still remember what he did, and clearly aren't messing around this time.

"I have to go." Bucky tells himself, too in his own head to notice several pairs of eyes fall on him in alarm.

"Bucky, that's," Steve starts, but Bucky is already walking out the door before he can finish his sentence. "We gotta go, who's in?"

Almost every hand shoots up and Steve nods, everyone starts to file out, knowing what needs to be done.

They came in abruptly, knocking the chains on your ankles to alert you of their presence. Mostly they just wanted to taunt you, sometimes they'd spare you the pain of reminding you that you were alone and no one would come for you. But more often than not, they'd add to your growing list of injuries, conflicting another wound to your skin as more blood stains the tiles.

No one answers the questions you ask when conscious enough to form words. 'Where am I?' 'How long have I been here?' and the one that scares you most of all, 'Why me?'

"You think he'll come?" Your ears perk up at the question, and you force your heavy head up an inch to see two of your attackers conversing outside of your cell.

One of them is holding a phone tightly in his grasp, chewing on his lip at the question. "For her? Hopefully." He scoffs before looking back at you, noticing the corners of your lips rising weakly. "What're you smiling at, bitch?" His voice rises before he marches over to you, grabs a hold of your face with one hand, and stares you dead in the eyes. "Somethin' you wanna say?" He demands, eyes widening awaiting a response.

Instead, you spit in his face, watching him recoil in disgust.

"You'll pay for that," He states, reaching into his pocket for something whilst your eyes grow heavy once again, unaware of a red light flickering through the base and alarms blaring.

The two men exchange a look, one you're oblivious to when your head slumps back down to rest against your chest.

"Showtime." One of the men laughs, clapping his hands before they both exit the cell, leaving your weak body alone-something you can be silently thankful for.

"Bucky," His name passes from your lips before your eyes drop once more.

Leading the mission, Bucky refuses to trail from the plan. Sometimes, he'll swerve from the set motions, but when it comes to you, nothing is to be changed or come as a surprise.

Continuing through the dank corridors, Bucky keeps his gun aimed in front of him whilst Steve and Natasha follow behind. So far Bucky has not left a single guard standing, and some without breath.

"You think this is it?" Natasha questions, looking at a series of locked doors, each with a number printed above and the red light flashing.

Bucky remains silent, trying to zone out from the murmurs behind him. His eyes continuously scan over the doors, he homes in on the furthest down the corridor, noting the light flashing white instead of red.

"There." Bucky speaks up, picking up pace toward the door only to be surprised by three guards who start shooting.

Wasting no time, Bucky tears the three down with ease. He ignores their screams whilst he shoots and punches his way through them.

Breathing deeply, Bucky leans forward to see a series of buttons to unlock the door. "Got any idea-" Steve starts, only to be met with Bucky smashing his metal fist into the panel, causing the door to open.

Adjusting their eyes to the dimly lit room, the trio enter apprehensively.

Scanning the room, Bucky's breath catches in his throat at the frail figure in the corner of the room. "Y/n?" His voice croaks, wasting no time to rush to your side, delicately lifting your head up to his lap. Eyeing over your various injuries, Bucky shakes his head and nestles your cheek with his hand. "What've they done to you?"

"Buck, we've got to get her out, now." Steve places his hand on his friend's shoulder, watching his oldest friend help you up and break the chains keeping you cemented in place. "Nat's clearing our exit, we don't have long."

Upon picking you up, Bucky freezes at your loud cry. "I'm sorry, doll, I'm so sorry." He repeatedly mumbles into your neck as he cradles your body in his arms all too aware of you dipping in and out of consciousness.

Much to their surprise, their exit is easier than anticipated. With you lying limp in Bucky's arms breathing heartlessly, Nat starts the jet up.

"It was all just to prove a point." Bucky states quietly, an oxygen mask now covering your nose and mouth. "just to show they could still get back at me, after all this time." His fists begin to clench on the edge of the seat, something Steve quickly picks up on as he moves to sit beside the pair of you.

Looking down at you in daylight, Steve could feel his heart clench in his chest. From what he saw of you briefly in photographs, you were shell of the woman you were physically, let alone mentally when you eventually come to.

"She's safe now, Buck." Steve reminds Bucky, feeling a sense of hope wash over the jet at your eyes open.

"Buck?" You croak, trying to lift your hand up, only for it to be held tightly by Buckys. "You, you found me." Tears start to build in your eyes upon seeing his, only for them to quickly refill with black spots.

"Of course, I'll always find you." Bucky whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead as a tear glides across your skin.

two months later

"Okay, okay!" Bucky chuckles heartfully, clutching the menu in his grasp above his head whilst you pout up at him. "Just say sorry and it's yours, doll."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you lightly sigh. "Come on, that's not fair. Steve will agree with me on this, right, Steve?" Glancing over your shoulder, Steve doesn't move a muscle from the armchair situated in the compound living area. "Steve?" Waving your hand, you reach for a cushion to throw at him, only for it to be deflected at the last second.

"I think you've got a slight advantage here, Buck." Steve chimes in, much to Bucky's playful dismay.

Lowering his arms back down, Bucky kneels in front of you with the menu in hand. "Here you go, doll." He winks, watching you snatch it from his grasp before wheeling backward toward the coffee table.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Barnes." You salute, reaching across for your crutch to ease you out of the wheelchair.

Upon hearing a quiet wince, Bucky's gaze falls upon you, and starts to walk in your direction to assist. "She's got this." Natasha pipes up, now entering the room to see what all the commotion was.

"Thanks, Nat." You smile, now using the crutch you reach for your phone, revealing the scarring on your forearm which sometimes hurts to see.

With a quick tug, you pull on the sleeve of Bucky's henley you've stolen before dialing for the takeaway and leaving the room.

Now left alone with two old friends, Bucky can practically hear their questions protruding. "She's just taking things a day at a time." Bucky explains, burying his head in his hands at the memories of the past few months.

"I mean, I haven't heard her laugh like this since before," He trails off, not wishing to finish the sentence as images of blood, your screams, and pleads replay.

"It's alright," Natasha comments with a soft smile. "She's tougher than she looks, for a civilian that is." She adds.

"Who're you callin' a civilian?" You speak up, feigning shock at Natasha's remark. "I happen to be a very special person." You add, slowly making your way toward Bucky.

Smiling at the interaction, Steve dares to ask. "And what makes you special, huh, Y/n?" He plays along, thankful to see Bucky's smile growing as you reach him, wrapping your free arm around his middle.

"'Cause this guy gets to date me." You state with a smug grin, feeling Bucky kiss your temple with a smile on his lips. "Nothing more special than that, right?" Looking up at Bucky, his smile only widens as the sparkle in your eye flashes for a moment, slowly making its return.

"Yeah, doll." Bucky tells you. "Luckiest guy around."

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)@bissstuff @psychicforest@lourightm@mywinterwolf@justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx@courtneychicken@marvelsangels@supraveng@tommy-lee-81@smilexcaptainx@fandom-princess-forevermore@sarge-barnes-sir@pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated-fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs@eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8@notbrooklynsblog@nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976@sarcasticallywitty15@multi-fandom-princess07@16boyfriends-and-me@courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor@pleasantlysecretdream@yougottalovefandoms@magicalxdaydream@soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown

@talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet@katiaw2@buckyswildflower@lucrea@weenersoldierr@katiaw2@lucrea@amelia-song-pond@bluelakeee@dottirose@emilytheukuleleplayer@5-seconds-of-mendes @rudystilinski @bookfrog242@wild-rose-35@fleurlovesbucky@iiclarixa@soldierstucky@twinerd14@lieswithoutfairytales@ateliefloresdaprimavera@teenwonder@weenersoldierr@nobody-will@ilikemypolarbear@rottenstyx@original-in-itself@sebby-staan@bbl32@lyoongx @iilwjbb @siriuslyslytherin@chazubagi @youngmarveltastypersona @iamninaannaisreading@marry-me-calum-hood@original-in-itself@clownerlyluv

@emilyprentisslittlewhore@amelia-song-pond@buckleyx@jesuswasnotawhiteman@hallecarey1@sleutherclaw@wonderwoman292@paintballkid711@leyannrae@blackwidownat2814@lmao-ethel@fillechatoyante@evanpetersisreallyhot@i-neverasktwice@aconfusedslytherin@kpopnena@ruzannetheseahorse@yelenabelovasgf@harysty@pastelreds@it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @keyanasstuff @marvelatthisone @natblackwidow2 @bucky-stan14 @chiyongberry @stuckybarton @alexxavicry

1K notes · View notes

in1-nutshell · 2 months ago

Text

Susan and Ironhide: Meetings and Cars

part 3 of Susan and Ironhide

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Mention of injury, Human reader

TFP

“And there. All wrapped up.”

Susan tried to touch the new bandages on her temple but was promptly swatted by Nurse Darby.

“No touching, you can mess it up or get it infected.”

Susan gave her a lopsided smile and a thumbs up.

“Thanks Ms. Darby!”

June smiled softly at the teen girl, silently wondering what did Jack or Miko saw in her. The nurse had met some questionable people (and bots) in her days, but Susan didn’t seem to be like the person to do something bad. The aforementioned Ironhide was currently patting the back of the young scout who was whirling and chirping happily.

The newcomer’s entrance was a bit… eventful.

Mainly with Ironhide transforming in the middle of the base, yelling for someone to get a medkit, while holding a slightly bloodied dazed Susan. The bots were surprised with the arrival of the missing mech, but June just saw a hurt girl gripping to the mechs digits to dear life.

After cleaning and disinfecting the wound on the girl’s head, June was surprised to hear that this was the ‘evil’ Susan Farmfield. The same Susan Miko had gone on and on about being the team’s newest enemy. The same person who wanted to expose the bots secret to the entire world for her ‘secret plans to take over the world’. The single mother couldn’t see the smiling, dazed girl hurting a fly.

Despite the initial injuries, Susan was positively beaming at the Prime as he began his introduction speech. Sure, Ironhide already gave her the run down, but there was something the way Optimus had with talking had Susan grasping at every word. She didn’t notice Ironhide leaning a bit down to June’s level.

“Is she okay? There was a lotta blood comin’ out.”

Susan hoped off the human sized stretcher, stumbled a bit, before standing proudly.

“I’m good! See!”

Ironhide had a bit of a frown as his digit ghostly touched the bandages, venting a bit in relief before addressing June.

“Thank you ma’am.”

June smiled.

“No problem, but next time try to avoid jumping out of moving cars.”

Susan sheepishly chuckled.

“Didn’t have much of a choice Ms. Darby. It was either that, or let Knockout take me to Megatron.”

June shuddered a bit at the mention of the name of the Leader of the Decepticons.

A hand appeared on Susan’s shoulder, turning to see a new person. The man had a bit of a frown on his face and started guiding her to a nearby room.

“Now hold on a second there.”

The green mech, Bulkhead if Susan recalled, stopped Ironhide in his track.

“Easy Hide, it’s just Fowler. He’s not going to do anything to her. Probably ask a few questions.”

Susan passed him a reassuring smile, but for who that smile was for she couldn’t tell you. The girl soon disappeared into the room with the man.

Ironhide felt a bit uneasy not being able to see where his friend was given the day they all just had. He turned around to face Optimus and the others.

“Speaking of questions, I have a few of ma own.”

Optimus nodded.

“Ask old friend. What is on your mind?”

Ironhide made eye contact with Bulkhead. Something in his optics glistened dangerously.

“Starting with you Bulk. What exactly did ya mean when ya said, and I quote, ‘can we just leave her’!?”

This outburst surprised most of the team. They had seen Ironhide get worked up, but never this quickly. Bulkhead responded.

“You don’t know her Hide. She’s—”

“Our enemy!”

Ironhide’s gaze shifted to the other human girl.

“Your what?”

“She’s, our enemy! She’s been trying to expose the team for months and keeps on trying to find relics to do experiments on. We’re lucky enough to stomp on her plans before they get out of control.”

Ironhide blinked a few times.

“…Are ya sure you aren’t talking about anotha Susan?”

“Did she brainwash you?”

Spunk. Ironhide had to give the kid that.

“Suzzy didn’t brainwash me kid. And whaddya mean by experimenting?” The red mech turned to the other bots. “Some more context would be greatly appreciated.”

…

The mini interrogation was something Susan half expected once Agent Fowler introduced himself. She was not expecting some of the dramatic things the others had accused her of doing. Yes, she fessed up about the website and looking for aliens, but never for harmful reasons. Susan just wanted to know if there was life out there and wanted to show the world. Her grandfather’s dream that was passed down to her, another fellow dreamer. A dream that brought a lot of loneliness, until Ironhide came along. For the first time Susan had a genuine friend who cared for her. A friend whose life was at risk because of her dream. Susan would not let that threat hang over her friend’s head.

As angry as she felt about the others spreading these dramatic rumors about her, a small part had forgiven them. They were, in a way, doing the same thing she was, protecting their friends… though the comments were unnecessary…

Fowler could easily tell that the rumors hurt the girl more than what she was letting on. To be honest, he couldn’t see this as the ‘evil Susan’ Miko had been talking about. That girl did know how to put in the dramatics into her stories.

“Its just a bit hard to understand why they told everyone that. Oh, that probably why they were looking at me like I ran over animals for fun!” Susan groaned as she hid her face in her hands.

“I figured that Miko might have been over doing some of the stories.”

Then the room shook violently.

THUD!

Both Fowler and Susan had been thrown from their chairs from the earthshaking movement.

“What in the Sam Hill…” Susan looked over at him.

“Maybe it was an earthquake?”

“SAY THAT AGAIN I DARE YOU!”

Susan tensed up at the familiar yelling.

“Defiantly not an earthquake.”

Both humans immediately stood up and went to the door to see what had happened. It turned out Ironhide was about to have some sort of fight with Bulkhead leading to a lob flying over into the human area.

Without thinking twice, Susan ran over to the group to see if they were okay.

“You okay guys?”

Jack, June and Raf nodded while Miko just huffed.

“Wait where Mrs. Darby?”

“My mom left a few minutes after you went in. Something about an emergency at work.” Jack’s response calmed her nerves a bit. Susan got to the guard rail and whistled loudly getting the bots attention.

“HEY! Who threw that! Some of us could have gotten hurt!”

Miko piped up behind her.

“And why do you care?”

Susan gave the girl a neutral look while crossing her arms.

“I care if my friends get hurt, now whether they like to think of me as a friend is a different story.”

The girls stood in silence glaring at each other.

Someone grunting brought them back to reality.

The bots were staring at them both, Susan couldn’t read their expressions. A wave of embarrassment washed over her as soon as she saw Ironhide. This was not how she thought tonight would go down.

“I umm… I—”

Miko groaned at her lack of speech.

Susan felt downright ashamed for the presentation and just looked down.

“Well, that was something. Hey Miko, are you sure this is the evil human that you mentioned?” The white one, Smokescreen, chimed.

Susan again ignored the pain the insult did. Ironhide didn’t.

“Yes, Miko, tell us if this is tha person you’ve been talkin’ about to the team.”

“Ironhide—”

“No. That’s enough outta you Bulk, I need to hear this for myself.”

Ironhide walked over to the railing, but Susan quickly got in between Miko and Ironhide. She already brought enough trouble here already; she was not going to let it fester with her being here.

“If you all don’t mind, I think its time for me to leave.” Turning to Ratchet and continuing.

“I understand that you have an operational groundbrigde, you can just drop me off outside the town limits.”

Susan tensed hearing Miko saying ‘Finally’.

She looked over to Optimus with slight pleading eyes. “Please?”

The Prime took a couple seconds before getting Ratchet to ready the groundbrigde as Susan got down to the main floor. She noticed Ironhide was starting to follow her.

“Wait, wait, wait Hide. I can just walk home.”

Ironhide was a bit surprised by the comment.

“In the dark? Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine. Plus, you have a lot of catching up to do with your team. You mentioned how much you wanted to talk to them, just talk away.”

“Susan!”

“Ironhide!”

Both bot and human were at a standstill, both not wanting to budge.

Susan’s eyes glistened a bit before Ironhide vented in defeat.

“Fine, but if you need me, I’ll be here.”

Susan nodded before turning and walking into the portal. The cool breeze of the night gently passed through as the girl walked out of the portal. Said portal that disappeared as soon as her foot left it and made contact with the rocky sand. The girl’s legs wobbled as some bile crept up her throat.

Note to self, don’t eat a heavy lunch before going through a groundbrigde.

It took a few minutes for her to recover from her lunch attack before looking at the town. Little lights twinkled a bit and grew a bit bigger with every step. Maybe she should have let Ironhide drive her home.

Ironhide…

Her vision started getting blurry thinking about the old mech. That was probably the last time she was going to see the mech. There was no way she could go back there without causing drama in the ranks. The others were probably going to convince him that she was some low life villain, there were enough bots there to convince him anyways. Not to mention that there was a war he had to worry about. Ironhide wasn’t going to have any time to see her.

Her friend…

Her dear friend…

Her only friend…

Her knee buckled a bit before tripping over a rock and falling on her face.

That was the last straw on the camel’s back.

Susan pulled her knees to her chest and began to sob. The tears and sand didn’t help with her depressing mood. Today had just been too much for Susan. As much as she would have liked to change today’s events, she knew that it was probably for the best.

That’s what hurt the most.

It was time to start accepting she wasn’t going to ever see him again. If staying away meant that Ironhide could finish his war and reconnect with his family, she’d stay away. Its not like anyone cared to stick around long with Susan Farmfield anyways.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before the sound of a car pulling up got her attention. The girl expected to see the old red truck, maybe a last goodbye in private. Instead she was faced with a blue, and grey car. A bulkier model too, not too uncommon to see around the town. A small Decepticon insignia caught her eye under the moonlight. Susan just stared in horror as the mech transforming right before her.

Her body screamed to run, but the combination of her blurry vision and pounding head made her movements sluggish. Next thing she knew, Susan was in the blue mechs servos. Her reflection shining bright in the Con’s optics.

“… Hello. Who are you?”

“Someone trying to settle a score, Fleshy.”

#transformers x reader #maccadam #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #human buddy #tfp #susan farmfield

72 notes · View notes

mykoreanlove · 10 months ago

Text

my only one

Your engagement party was a full blast - the pittoreske venue was filled with the people you loved most. Everybody was dancing, drinking and celebrating your upcoming wedding.

You had been shaking firm hands and giving out heartfelt hugs all night long, so you snuck out onto the balcony to take a break.

The balcony was covered in golden fairy lights, slightly illuminating the breathtaking view in front of you.

You didn’t turn around as you noticed the door open, you had a gut feeling who it would be.

Strong arms hugged you from behind and a raspy voice whispered in your ear - your home had found you.

„Hey“, he whispered, „you okay?“

You nodded silently and grabbed his arm, squeezing lightly.

„Am now“, you smiled.

Namjoon chuckled and hid his face in the crook of your neck, resting silently for a moment or two.

„You know… you can still say no.“, he stated nervously.

You laughed out loud, filling his ear with the vibration of your amusement.

„Now why would I do that?“

Namjoon hugged you even tighter, merging into one once more.

„So you really mean it, huh?“

„Joon, you’re stuck with me. Forever.“

„Forever? Really?“

„Yes, you dumbass, forever. Were you really doubting?“

He let out a deep sigh, as if he was finally releasing the anxiety he carried in his heart.

„It’s just that sometimes I feel like this is too good to be true. You’re too good to be true, y/n.“

You pushed his head back gently and turned around, looking up into his saddened eyes.

„Listen up, big boy. I love you and you love me. It’s supposed to feel this good.“

You saw his cheeks redden, as he averted his gaze embarrassed. You reached for his big hands and squeezed them as tightly as you could.

„I’m not running away, Joon. I know you are the one for me.“

He turned to face you and smiled warmly.

„The one?“

Namjoon was a confident man, taking extreme pride in his talents and intellect but the slightest doubt could turn him into an anxious mess. Especially if the doubt was about you.

You nodded cheerfully, while making your point.

„When did you realize?“

„Pretty early on“, you said and turned around again, observing the beautiful landscape in front of you.

„Hey, wait. Tell me when! Please, y/n“, he whined into your ear as his arms found your waist again.

You let your head fall back against his broad chest and smiled, remembering those days fondly.

„Do you remember when we first met? How we used to be?“

He nodded.

„We were inseparable back then, always hanging out with each other or calling or texting. It felt like we were obsessed with getting to know each other“, you mused happily.

„That didn’t change“, he said as he left soft kisses on your neck.

„One time when we were on the phone we had a conversation that sealed the deal for me. From then on I just knew that I would marry you some day.“

„What did I say, baby?“

„Oh god, I can actually quote it. How lame am I?“, you laughed embarrassed.

„The lamest. But I love you for that“, he chuckled against your skin. „Now tell me.“

„You said you were proud of me. It was super random and I didn’t understand why. I had to ask for clarification.“, you reminisced.

„Wait, I remember that call.“

You stayed silent for a second, replaying the situation in your mind.

„I am proud of you because you’re doing so great, y/n. Eating your veggies. Drinking your water. Taking your vitamins. Going for walks. Taking care of your mind. Staying positive. That deserves all my proud, y/n.“, you quoted him.

Namjoon stood quietly behind you, already knowing where this was going.

„I didn’t tell you at the time but I was facing a lot of shit. A lot of heavy stuff that made my life a living hell. And I was not doing fine. At all. Taking care of myself, even the simplest things, were a heavy burden to me. But I was trying my best and yet somehow you caught that.“

You turned around once more and looked into his loving eyes, stroking his cheek as you exclaimed your love for him.

„You didn’t need me to articulate my pain. You just knew. It’s like you saw right through me and decided to stay anyway. To give me my time to come to you instead of pressuring me into telling you.“

Namjoon‘s eyes were filled with tears as he listened closely, this was the first time you ever spoke about it that candidly.

„You sensed the war within me and provided me with peace. To me, Joonie, there’s no greater act of love. And I promise to return that love every single day. If you let me.“

Namjoon wiped away the tears hastily, but you stopped him.

You reached up to him and kissed him, tasting his salty tears on his sweet lips. In this moment you were sure that this wouldn’t be the last time for salty kisses but you didn’t mind. As long as you got him by your side, you were good.

Your Joon. Your home. Your only one.

257 notes · View notes

adragonsfriend · 5 months ago

Text

Supreme Chancellor Grandpa and his Spectacular Vibes

"'Busy as always, I’m afraid. But very glad of this evening’s reprieve.' He says, smiling warmly, because Chancellor Palpatine is the picture of a harried but caring and active leader."

This is going to be part commentary on canon, part my response to the fairly common supposition that Palpatine acts openly rude or prejudiced as Chancellor, part thought experiment.

(quotes from Biting his own Tale (mostly The Supreme Chancellor's Diary) in purple because if I don't do breakdowns of my own writing, who will?)

I pose the question, what is it actually like to be in Palpatine’s presence?

At the heart of it, it's incredibly reassuring:

He is always solving problems for people—often by taking on extra responsibility! It is genuinely difficult to come out of a meeting with Chancellor Palpatine feeling as though some weight has not been taken off your shoulders. Be it emotional (he has lent a sympathetic ear: gained personal information about you), logistical (he’s offered to mention your problem to someone: gained a tacit, informal favour in return), personal (he’s given you advice: shaped your decisions), or logical (he’s always up for a challenging puzzle: he’s always looking for opportunities to take advantage of).

He's a good public speaker, and his speeches gesture at large goals, out of the individual person's reach (I went to a school that had students give these speeches to the whole school twice a week about what ever (school-approved) topic they wanted and trust me, the fastest way to alienate a general audience is to ask them to do something achievable. depressing i know). People—even senators who are aware of his rhetorical tricks—consistently leave his public appearances with a vague but incredibly strong sense that big problems will all be resolved naturally, or by someone else. "She starts reading over one of Palpatine’s oldest speeches, from nearly twenty years ago. …Our Sector is made strong by its partnerships with our neighbors…Naboo will always maintain those relationships bring Prosperity to young and old…The new trade bill will ensure Peace and Security for decades to come… It has a familiar, empty quality that makes the speaker sound full of ideas, but really only rouses emotion."

He’s no comedian—his jokes are typically chuckle-worthy at best, indeed they are often a little awkward—but he takes such clear delight in causing joy in the people around him that it is hard to resist smiling even when a joke is stilted or slightly out of touch. "'Knight Skywalker didn’t stir at all, I’m afraid,' Sidious inserts a little self-deprecation into Palpatine’s tone, “But it’s reassuring to know he’s in the most capable hands here, Master healer.' / 'We certainly do our best, Chancellor.' Master Che’s expression is polite, but she doesn’t smile. / Not taken in by flattery for a moment. Palpatine approves, 'And I’d best let you get back to it.' He sighs just audibly, and squares his shoulders, 'And get back to it myself.' He crafts a smaller smile, and this time he catches the faintest hint of amusement in the twitch of her lips."

You are a corrupt politician who has gotten in some trouble, but don't worry—your friend Palpatine is there to take care of it. He'll ask a few favors on your behalf, only because he knows you deserve a second chance, and besides he says, what you did wasn't really all that bad in the first pace. He's not doing anything bad by helping out a friend. "'But I'm not! Ventress is getting stronger and I'm still too weak. I should’ve killed her when I had the chance—' [Anakin] cuts himself off, glancing nervously at Palpatine—Sidious arranges Palpatine’s face like a deck of cards so it shows only dedicated interest. Anakin continues, reassured that Palpatine sees no problem with killing his enemies."

You are a leader of your people, worried about how you are going to help them. Palpatine is also a leader, and of even more people than you—but he sympathises, he's made time for you, he worries about his own home planet even as he puts that worry aside to care for the whole galaxy. He suggests someone you might speak with.

You are a clone in the coruscant guard, whom many citizens and senators dislike either for enforcing the law or simply for being clones, but Chancellor Palpatine is always polite to his guards. He confuses you for your brothers sometimes, but he always apologizes and clarifies your name. Sometimes you catch him muttering names and ranks under his breath, trying to remember all of them—he is always faintly embarrassed when this happens, but he keeps doing it.

You are a Jedi, reporting that one of your people has died in tragic, violent circumstances. Out of the many-faced mass of the Senate comes Palpatine to lead the condolences. He maintains a steady sympathy, but beneath it, you can see that he truly feels the loss. Even the seemingly apathetic Senators around him have been moved to nod their heads in true sympathy—in a galaxy that grows cold to your people you more and more, he makes your loss felt to others when you cannot. "[Padme]'s hardly ever irritated by Palpatine when she’s in his presence, only after she leaves, when she’s picked through all the pleasantries and misdirection. Just this week, she’d watched him frown upon hearing about the death of Knight Wu Mengxiang, and caught herself nodding along with his condolences to the Jedi who’d come to inform them."

You are the queen of a planet in danger, and here is someone who is willing to do something drastic to help you. He will take power, and help you fix all the injustice if you will only ask him for help. Yes it may take a few days, but he is doing all he can—it is not his fault the incumbent Chancellor is too attached to his position to realize another could do better in his place. "He’d used them, encouraged them to attack Naboo, and then used the crisis to force a vote of no confidence against Valorum. Only force isn’t the right word is it? He’d made a suggestion, and Padme had jumped at the chance to spare her people."

Body language and charisma are incredibly powerful (random statistics like 'oh 80% of all human communication is through body language' are not sufficient to communicate the extent of this power), and one of Palpatine’s most extraordinary traits is is ability to keep up and act—probably to an unrealistic extent.

Lots of real life advice on how to discover manipulative people is simply to wait and observe their actions over a longer period—eventually, they will slip up and reveal who they truly are. This certainly happens with Palpatine in ROTS, but it takes a very long time, not months or even years, but decades.

And his suspicions behavior in ROTS is a deliberate ploy! He uses it three fold:

To incite cognitive dissonance and uncertainty in the senate—most of whom have regarded him as trustworthy and in accord with their specific interests up to this point—so that he can push through his most obviously suspicious empire-making pieces of legislation.

To cause the Jedi to be suspicious of him in general, so that they investigate and eventually attempt to arrest him, allowing him to label them traitors and usurpers.

To cause the Jedi to be suspicious of him specifically to put Anakin, who either does not register or does not acknowledge any change in behavior, at odds with the other Jedi.

"'The upside,' Padmé counters, 'Is that it means even Palpatine is limited in what he can push through without sacrificing his [public] image—' / Ekkreth cuts her off, 'If you ever do find him obviously suspicious, it is too late. That is his endgame for the Republic.'"

The only point where he compromises his act to his own detriment is in Return of the Jedi with Luke, who has the twin advantages of knowing exactly who Sidious is and only having been in the same room as him for all of ten minutes.

People like the Jedi on the Council and the leaders of the Delegation of 2000 (potentially including) Padmé Amidala who manage to partly pierce the veil and form actual distrust of Chancellor Palpatine as an individual are the exception, not the rule. They are extraordinary in being able to both know the man and even semi-accurately analyze his actions.

I say potentially about Padmé because it is very much the last days when she remarks upon anything, and the delegation of 2000 deleted scene reads to me as though she is being read in on a plan others have already made—ergo she is not one of the initiators.

People who are aware of him only as a public figure are not at any great advantage either. His speeches give much the same air of worn but steady reassurance, and it is difficult to trace any particular wrong doing back to him—he took over of a paralyzed, unpopular leader, he was in favor of unity and so opposed the war, he has a great origin story going from troubled youth to orphan to responsible leader, his greatest scandal is a slightly expensive taste easily excused by his role.

Sidious has a distinct advantage in that any obviously violent or cruel end he wishes to pursue can be achieved through Dooku and the Separatist military (want to kill a Jedi who knows too much? Dooku can have Ventress do that. Want Anakin to suffer extra this week? Dooku can arrange that. Want this or that artifact/weapon stolen or destroyed? Dooku can assign a general to do that. Want a clone army? Dooku can get Syfo Dyas to do that. et cetera), and there is no paper trail of any of it. The only way in which Chancellor Palpatine has to get his hands dirty is making the pragmatic decisions necessary to the Republic. "No matter how much more obscure the methods for obtaining those records has become since the Government Information Acts—which she recalls Palpatine calling a deeply unfortunate necessity of these troubled times—were passed, they are still legal."

Long story short, Anakin is special only in the individual attention he receives—he is the microcosm of what Palpatine does to almost everyone he comes into contact with. Invoke trust, take on responsibility, absolve guilt, corrupt. Palpatine's greatest strength is not in his long-term schemes—many of those are set up for him, or mainly managed by Dooku—it is in his opportunism, and that includes in his ability to become the right person for every given moment.

Long story even shorter, Darth Plagueis did not name his apprentice Darth Sneeky McSneekface so people could try and convince me Chancellor Palpatine is randomly rude to people.

Edit: changed some phrasing--nothing substantive

#star wars #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #chancellor palpatine #emperor palpatine #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #star wars clones #count dooku #manipulation #star wars meta #long post #once again here to inform everyone that darth chancellor grandpa mcsneekface is in fact pretty good at his job of being evil

57 notes · View notes

inthedarkshadows000 · 2 months ago

Text

SneakPeak#110.......

From the story I might never write

I was currently sitting on the kitchen slab after convincing Nanami to let me help him cook.

Now I know I am hopeless when it comes to this area but I managed to convince him. I know, I am so smart.

Although the reason I wanted to be here was so I could ogle at him. He looks so delicious wearing those sweatpants and thin cotton shirt which show his Greek god body underneath and don't even let me get started on his cute aprin. Yummmy.

"Y/n! Yn ! Hey Nanami have you- what the hell are you doing here?What the hell is she doing here? Are you planning to have your house burnt?" Shoko please shut. Please. I suddenly wish I had telepathy so could tell her to shut up.

Nanami only turned to face her after switching off the stove and raised his one brow. Me jealous. I mentally pouted. I wanna learn that too.

"What do you mean?" He crossed his hands and all I could do was drool over his biceps. I pretty sure I it was coming out of my mouth.

"She didn't tell you? She is horrible at cooking. Inviting her in the kitchen is like purposely trying to have you house burnt." Sho said like it was a universal fact.

"That is so not true. I have helped you in kitchen." I said quickly coming out of my drooling state to defend my honor.

"I asked you to boil the water because I had to use the washroom and you! madam almost set the kitchen on fire!!!!" She said with her eyebrows so high that they almost disappeared off her face.

"I so did not!!" I said with narrowed eye and at the same time telling her to shut up.

"How so?" He asked clearly finding this amusing because I may or may not have told him I was an awesome cook. I knew it was gonna bite me in the ass.

"She put the pan on the stove without actually lighting it. I mean she turned the nob on and didn't light it. So we basically had a gas leak" she exasperated.

"That was like ten seconds." I said throwing my hands up. Although I knew I had originally forgotten about lighting it. She doesn't have to know that.

"Liar. The only reason we were saved was because Suguru thought about following you to the kitchen as a precaution. He switched it off when he realised that she wasn't because she got back to stalking. " shoko looked at me pointedly. I only huffed and crossed my arms with a pout.

"Sugury said he was getting himself a glass of water. He didn't follow me." I mumbled. Beside me me Nanami chuckled and it made me smile internally.

"Of course he said that. Although even you know that's not true." She laughed like it's the funniest thing.

"Once I helped Satoru too." I said whining.

"All you did was pass him a packet of chips from the pantry. Although considering you didn't make a mess counts for something." she had the audacity to smirk. Bitch. She will so regret it when I eat all of gummy worms then we'll see who smirks. For now I settled with sticking my tongue out at her.

"Anyway I was looking for you because I was gonna go out for some work. I'll be back in an hour." With that she walked away without waiting for my reply. I shrugged.

"Soo. You lied to me." He said with one brow raised.

"That depends on how you define lying" I said smiling

"I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?" He grinned.

"reclining you body in a horizontal position?" I screamed with a huge grin. OH MY GOD He watched teen wolf. He just quoted it. I was stiles?!!!?? I am fangirling so hard.

"You watch teen wolf." I laughed.

"Of course I did. You asked me to." He said as if I just offended him. Although his eyes twinkle as if he found treasure.

The brown in them a lighter shade. We were standing so close. I didn't realise when he had moved to stand between my legs. It was then I realised that why his eyes were so striking. Why they stood out in a room of fifty people. He had a black ring around his iris. As if holding all the colour in, preventing it from spilling out.

"I didn't think you would, with all the missions and stuff." I was still looking into his eyes as I mumbled.

"I always for time for you, love." He traced my cheek bone. He leaned in further and before I could process, his lips were on mine.

"My little liar.." He murmured and pecked me once more.

31 notes · View notes

lavenderchqn · 2 months ago

Text

𝐶𝛨𝛢𝑃𝑇𝛦𝑅 𝟎𝟑𝟑 — SET IT OFF (3,5K WORDS) 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆 — lyney x f!reader smau

𝑆𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 —

Second year of university should've been everything you thought of it - more studying with human interaction sprinkled throught... What it definitely wasn't supposed to be was an investigation saga where one of your friends goes missing out of nowhere

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — 𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐸𝑃𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐷𝐸

As the meeting approached, [Y/N]’s nerves became more evident. She was hunched over her laptop, polishing her slides for the presentation on their opponent. This wasn’t just a university project for credit — it’s serious. Her sleepless nights were etched into her appearance, with dark circles under her eyes and a tired, drooping gaze.

If you asked, [Y/N] would insist she’s fine, brushing off any mention of fatigue. In truth, burying herself in this project has been a way to block out her growing feelings for Lyney and keep Clorinde’s judgement at a safe distance from her thoughts.

Over the past few days, she and Lyney had gathered a significant amount of information. Beyond the startling discovery of Marcel’s connection to the Dean of Arts and Humanities department, they’d uncovered another strange, yet valid for his character: he was an intense fan of Lolita. His Facebook page was littered with quotes from the novel — far too many for comfort, given the circumstances.

In the end, one question continued to baffle her — figuring out his motive. If their timeline was correct, he had stopped pursuing Furina as soon as she left the theatre troupe, with no suspicious activity on his part until March of this year.

[Y/N] muttered to herself, trying to make sense of it, her laptop balancing on her knees. The screen showed the slide on Marcel’s background: a graduate of their university who had majored in performance arts but never made it big. By all appearances, it was likely the dean who had handed him the assistant position — a clear case of nepotism, or something close to it.

“And who do we have here, hmm?” Lyney’s voice came from behind [Y/N], making her jump out of her skin. In her startled attempt to back away, she nearly sent her laptop flying. Luckily, Lyney was quick; with one hand, he steadied her, while his other caught her laptop just in time, saving her and her work from disaster.

“Y-You—“ [Y/N] stammered, bending forward to catch her breath and regain her composure. Lyney’s hand remained around her waist, even as he leaned down to carefully place the laptop on the coffee table beside her former seat. It took her a while to settle down, her brain not letting go of thinking about his touch.

Once the laptop was safely down, Lyney straightened up, his gaze teasing but warm. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

[Y/N] shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-flustered. “You did that on purpose.”

“Who knows, maybe I did,” he admitted, a smirk on his lips. “But I couldn’t resist. You’ve been buried in this thing lately— Was starting to think you’d forgotten all about me~”

Lyney and his sly words. Her cheeks felt warmer, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the open laptop. “Hardly. I’m preparing… for the meeting, you know.”

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Right, of course, the meeting.” Then, after a pause, his tone softened. “But really, don’t overwork yourself. I can help if you need it.”

“Absolutely not, Lyney.” [Y/N] pouted, looking at him. “You were the one to collect information, it’s only fair I prepare the presentation, right.”

Lyney raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. “Are you saying I wouldn’t make an impressive presenter?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. “I think you’d make too much of a spectacle of it. We’re trying to inform everyone about that dick, not put on a magic show. Besides your father is going to be there…”

He placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded by her words. “Ouch. But I suppose you’re right — I’d steal the show, no bet.” He gave a small, playful shrug before taking his hand off her waist and meeting her gaze. “Still, I’ll be there by your side. Give me the cue, and I’ll jump to your aid, like a knight on a horse in shining armour.”

“Thanks, Lyney.” She murmured, her voice quieter than she’d intended. How could she not have fallen for a guy like him? Despite his teasing nature, he was always there to aid her whenever possible. Even when she hadn’t felt like doing anything or crying her eyes out at feeling useless.

Heavens above, it was high time to regain her focus… the meeting was coming soon.

“The party has arrived!~” Furina sings, sweeping into the vacation house as Lyney holds the door open for her. Wriothesley and Neuvillette followed close behind, each wearing an expression of subtle relief — it was their first time seeing him since that fateful day.

“Good to see the squad in one piece.” Lyney greets them with a small smile, though his eyes linger on Wriothesley and Neuvillette, sensing the weight of unspoken words. There is tension in the air, a mix of concern and gratitude, as if just seeing him there, welcoming them with his usual charm, is enough to ease some of their lingering worries.

Furina, as oblivious as ever to the atmosphere, spins around the room, hands on her hips. “So, where’s your girl? Surely she hasn’t run off to do even more work?”

Lyney chuckles, mentioning them towards the living room. “Not my girl, first of all— Second, she’s still wondering how to fix the tension between her, Clorinde and Charlotte…”

“They still haven’t reconciled?” Neuvillette asks surprise in his tone. “From their dynamic, it would seem like they’d let go of their argument quite swiftly if I do say so myself.”

Wriothesley meanwhile, rolls his eyes at Lyney’s words, though a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Not your girl, ‘Mr. My body is telling me to make her feel better’. He teases.

“Shut the fuck up, Wrio,” Lyney says as the faintest blush creeps up. He’s leading them to the living room, where everything for their meeting is already prepared — a projector, some snacks and a lot of sitting space. This room was often used as a gathering spot for the children to watch movies, whenever Father permitted them to use the house.

“Oh, you’re early?” [Y/N]’s voice echoes as she enters the room, empty glasses in hand. “Weren’t we supposed to meet at 5?” She sets the glasses on the coffee table before looking at her phone. It reads as 4:45 pm.

“Being fifteen minutes early is the standard, darling.” Furina comes up, raising her hands to hug her as a welcome gesture. “Glad to see you’re all right.”

“Likewise,” The girls give each other a warm, but short, hug as [Y/N] greets Wriothesley and Neuvillette, who are standing next to Lyney. “Nice to see you too, guys.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Ms. [Y/N].”

“We’re still waiting on the girls… as well as Father,” Lyney says, sharing a gaze with [Y/N]. “Make yourselves at home, sillies. I’ll help [Y/N] with the last things, all right?”

“Alrighty~”

A knock on the door brings the chatter between [Y/N] and the Beverage Gang to an abrupt halt. They exchanged glances, knowing exactly who it was. Just moments earlier, as they’d finished setting up the table Lyney had received a message from The Knave. She was informing him she’d be arriving late due to a traffic jam on the highway.

“Guess they finally made it,” Wriothesley mutters, adjusting his jacket, while Neuvillette offers a small nod.

Lyney gives [Y/N] a reassuring look before moving toward the door. “Time to make them feel welcome,” He says, his tone lighthearted, with a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As much as he plays it off, he knows the meeting can bring a fair share of tension — between the subject of the meeting as well as Clorinde’s presence… with her recent conflict with [Y/N]

With a quick breath, he opens the door, revealing Navia, Clorinde and Charlotte standing just outside. Navia smiles cheerfully, giving Lyney a brief nod as she steps inside, Clorinde follows behind with her usual stoic expression, and Charlotte brings up the rear with a friendly wave.

“Glad to see everyone’s made it safe and sound!” The blonde announced, beaming as she headed straight for the living room. She greets each person with her characteristic enthusiasm, stopping by [Y/N] to share a warm side hug. “Ah, it’s good to see you, [Y/N].”

The girl returned the hug, a small smile breaking through. “You too, Nav, you too.”

As Navia settles in beside her, Lyney joins them, casting a glance in Clorinde’s direction. Her expression is unreadable, although, he can notice a glint of sadness in her eyes. He wishes inside that Clorinde and Charlotte are here to make amends with [Y/N].

After a moment of quiet, Navia clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Well, are we good to start the meeting now?” She glances around the room, her gaze lingering on each person, a gentle reminder of the unity they need tonight.

“Lyney,” Furina turns to him. “We’re still waiting for The Knave… right?”

“Yep, that’s right,” He stands up, moving closer towards where [Y/N]’s laptop is — connected to their projector. “She knows what [Y/N]’s gonna talk about soo… we can start without her.”

Charlotte nods, leaning back slightly in her seat. “All right then, let’s get started.”

The group eyes the projector screen with interest as Lyney connects everything, casting [Y/N] an encouraging look. “The floor is yours,” he says, giving her a reassuring smile. He can feel the slight glances of his friends eyeing his every move — trying to find proof of him crushing on [Y/N] and so on.

“Actually,” Clorinde speaks up, eyes dead straight on [Y/N]. “Could I ask what you’re going to be talking about? As far as I’m aware Wriothesley had conclusions regarding the location.”

Oh. That’s right. Neither she nor Lyney have ever mentioned they had figured out who the kidnapper is. Well, The Knave had been made aware… but nobody else.

“What else would there to be talking about?” Clorinde enquires, the sheer coldness in her voice noticeable to everyone present. “We do not know who the kidnapper is.”

“Who says we don’t?” [Y/N] strikes back, her answer sending the room into silence.

Clorinde’s eyes narrow, and a flicker of surprise flashes across Wriothesley’s face as he exchanges a glance with Neuvillette. The weight of [Y/N]’s words hangs heavy in the hair, thickening the silence which follows.

Furina leans forward, eyes wide with intrigue. “Wait… you mean to say—“

“Yes,” [Y/N] interrupts, steady and resolute. “We know who the kidnapper is. And the presentation has all the evidence to support our guess.”

Lyney steps closer to her, arms crossed but supportive, his gaze shifting to Clorinde. “We’ve been holding back certain information… for mental health reasons.” He knows he’s being passive-aggressive, but there’s something so correct after everything [Y/N] had to go through.

“Mental health reasons?” Neuvillette questions. “I’m aware this matter is quite crucial for the two of you, but others?”

“Well,” [Y/N] sighs, turning her eyes back to the projector. “How about you see? And then ask questions.”

“Without much introduction,” [Y/N] resumed. “Here’s the person behind all the kidnappings.”

“Furina,” Lyney perks up, getting her attention. “Close your eyes, just in case.”

Furina’s curiosity piques at his suggestion, and her expression shifts between intrigue and unease. She hesitates, not quite ready to see her tormentor of the previous year. She finally closes her eyes, murmuring, “Fine, fine, just tell me when it’s safe.”

The second slide pops up. With an image of Marcel Dubois right and centre. It’s him — Furina’s stalker. The group’s attention turned black to the screen, where his image — cold, calculated, and all too familiar to those who knew him from university… or from dealing with the theatre troupe’s management. Silence washes over the room as each person processes what this means.

“That fucking guy?” Wriothesley stands up, flabbergasted. “He’s the one who not only kidnapped the girls… but also threatened Furina a fucking year ago?”

[Y/N] nods, her voice steady as she continues, “He’s a former student, a performance arts major. And well… the manager of the theatre troupe. That’s how he managed to get close to three of his victims… as for Lynette…”

“She’s the outlier.”

“Precisely.”

“Is he the… son of the dean?”

“Yes.” [Y/N] gave everyone a grim nod. “He’s the son of the Dean of Arts and Humanities. His influence and connections within the university must’ve kept Marcel protected. Can’t be caught, if you don’t start an actual investigation, am I right?”

Lyney clicked to the next slide, which outlined their evidence, including patterns of his movement and his online prescience — posts and quotes from Lolita that had, in retrospect, revealed more than anyone realised.

“While I can’t still figure out why he had committed those crimes…” [Y/N] continued. “Lynette is most likely a singular ‘deviation’. It could be him using her to not only taunt us but to show he can be unpredictable.”

“A desire for power is a simple enough explanation, Miss [Y/N].” A deep voice says, getting louder as the person enters from their previous spot, back in the darkness of the unlit room. “I commend you for your findings.”

“Madame… Knave?” [Y/N] murmurs, eyes widening as the woman steps into the light. Her imposing presence seems to command the room, just as it did back when they had first met. Beside her stands a tall figure, whose sharp gaze and police badge immediately signal their purpose.

The Knave’s eyes sweep over the room, lingering slightly as they pass her protégé before she gives a polite nod. “Good evening, everyone. I apologise for my late arrival, yet it seems I came just in time.” Her voice is smooth, yet steely, carrying a weight that silences any lingering doubt in the air.

The officer beside her adjusts his badge. “I have been briefed on the situation,” he says, looking directly and [Y/N] and Lyney. “Thanks to your compiled evidence, and some swift verification, it is enough to warrant immediate investigation. We have gathered court permission to enter his house tomorrow at the earliest.”

Charlotte lets out a small light, crossing her arms. “It’s actually happening. We’re finally going to rescue the victims.”

Knave meets her gaze with a small nod. “That would be correct, Ms. Charlotte. With your combined efforts, we now have the leverage to proceed cautiously but decisively.” She looks again to [Y/N]. “The presentation was thorough. The shadows you were once treading are no more — this is concrete evidence.”

[Y/N] feels a surge of relief mixed with apprehension. This was it. After all the sleepless nights, carefully digging and gathering information, they had finally brought Marcel into the light. But as she looked around, she could see similar apprehension in the eyes of her friends.

“So… what happens next?” Furina asks softly, her trembling voice breaking the silence. While she didn’t look at the slides directly, the conversation between her friends told her directly who was behind everything. It’s maddening… how sick in the head Marcel truly is.

“It all depends on how long it takes to find out the place where the kidnapped women are.” The officer looks at each of them in turn. “But rest assured, his days of preying on anyone are over.”

“Except,” Wriothesley interrupts. “We are aware of where they are, as well as crucial information about said location.”

Wriothesley’s presentation is much shorter. Over the past few days, he had managed to pinpoint all points of entry as well as note all camera locations — the latter done before the knowledge of having a court order. Surprisingly, the vacation house near Mary-Ann’s National Park is nowhere near as small as they predicted initially. Not to mention it having been built on top of unsuitable ground after all the chaos that had transpired years before.

The officer nods, studying the images. “This does shorten our work. With the knowledge of the building, we can orchestrate an operation that avoids detection. We shall be coordinating with local authorities tonight. The plan is to have a surveillance team in place early tomorrow morning, with the tactical team ready to move as soon as we confirm the victim’s presence.”

“Be sure,” Clorinde perks up. “To have a medical staff available. Heavens know what situation some of the victims are.”

“But of course.”

After this confirmation, the Knave and the officer bid the group farewell. It’s a long night ahead for everybody involved, and starting as soon as possible is highly appreciated.

Furina, still shaken, looks to [Y/N] and Lyney with a spark of courage in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice laced with gratitude. “For piecing this all together. For saving Lynette and everyone else. I… I know I should have said this sooner.”

[Y/N] gives her a soft smile, squeezing her friend’s hand. “We all worked together. It wouldn’t have been possible without everyone’s support.”

“[Y/N],” Clorinde says, walking up to the girl with Charlotte by her side. “Would you spare us a minute?” The girl in question is chatting with Navia, both excited to hopefully see Lynette as soon as tomorrow.

Out of nowhere, the tension, which has felt light ever since the departure of the Knave and accompanying police officer, is heavy once more. This simple interaction brings not only the girls to a stop… but also the Beverage Gang members.

“Of course.” [Y/N] glances a Navia, who offers a supportive nod, before she turns to face Clorinde and Charlotte. She feels a knot in her stomach, a stark contrast to the relief she had felt moments ago.

Charlotte’s expression is gentle, almost apologetic, while Clorinde maintains her usual composed demeanour, though there’s an unspoken weight in her gaze. “I owe you an apology,” She begins, her voice steady but softer than usual. “For how I treated you… and for not taking your feelings into account.”

Charlotte steps forward, her face sincere. “Even though your methods have been quite radical… You’ve done so much, for all of us. I’m sorry, for petitioning to exclude you too…”

[Y/N] stands there, momentarily taken aback, a rush of emotions flashing through her. She takes a breath, feeling the tension finally start to loosen. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice warm. “It means a lot, truly.”

Clorinde nods, a hint of relief crossing her face. “I hope we can move forward, together.”

Before she can respond, Lyney’s hand settles reassuringly on her shoulder, grounding her. “Well…” His tone is uncertain. “You did put this lovely lady into quite a lot of distress. Not to mention, you tried to exclude me too?”

Clorinde stiffens slightly, her gaze flicking to Lyney, who's watching her with a raised brow and a smirk that doesn’t hide his protective stance beside [Y/N].

“Yes, Lyney,” she says, a slight sigh escaping her, “We did exclude you both. And yet, perhaps you were right to push ahead without waiting for us. Your determination has shown us what we couldn’t see in our hesitation.” She looks directly at [Y/N]. “While I cannot support your means of gathering evidence, you have been braver than I gave you credit for.”

Charlotte chimes in, her tone soothing. “Like, I’m not gonna say I’m better than you… But those were some really dangerous methods, you both. Sorry, again.”

Lyney’s expression softens as he looks at the two, his smirk fading to something more genuine. “Apology accepted,” he says with a nod, squeezing [Y/N]’s shoulder once more and pointing at her with his other hand. “This girl has done so fucking much over the past few weeks, I’d be an idiot not to trust her, you know.”

In the dimly lit interior of Neuvillette’s car with Wriothesley behind the wheel, Furina reclines in her back seat, arms crossed as she remarks on that scene on their way back. Her teasing smirk is in place as she raises a brow at Wriothesley, who is focused on the road, but sneaks a quick amused glance her way. “He definitely has a crush on her.”

“Lyney has always been a charmer,” Wriothesley remarks, amusement in his voice. “But I’ll admit, he usually plays it a bit cooler. He’s thrown in his lot with her.”

Furina taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “It’s really sweet, the way he rushed in like that. He’s more protective than I had expected.”

“Well,” Neuvillette interrupts. “I think it’s quite expected of Lyney.”

Furina turns her attention to Neuvillette, sitting beside her. “Oh? Do tell, Neuvi. You think Lyney’s… predictable?”

Neuvillette clears his throat, shaking his head. “Not predictable. Just… earnest. Lyney cares deeply for those he considers important, us included. When he decides someone’s worth his trust, he’ll stand by them without hesitation.”

Furina leans back, clearly intrigued. “I know, I know, silly~ Our magician is an open book when you think about it long enough.” She chuckles, but her tone is more appreciative than mocking.

“Then why ask the question?”

“Ugh… annoying. For the plot, perhaps?”

Wriothesley chuckles, nodding to the road ahead. “Let’s leave the theatrics to you and Lyney. But I have to say, I’m curious how this ‘plot’ of theirs unfolds.”

Tomorrow will bring the final act of their hard work — a risky rescue, with everything on the line. But tonight, they can finally take a breath, together.

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — CLOSED

@state-of-grac3 @santaluna @meigalaxy @romyoia

@meurtreofcrows @charles-braindump @floweringanna @moonjellyfishie @vavrin @lovelypadisarah @dearanemo

@dearanemo @ladylee

date of posting — november 20th 2024

#lavv.writes #lavv.redlines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smau #genshin smau #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfiction #lyney x reader #lyney smau

33 notes · View notes