#this is gorgeous 🙌🏼

[encantobigbang]

Here is MAFBR’s contribution to the Encanto Big Bang for @hourglass-dreams’s fic! ⏳🍽️🕯️

You can her official EBB post here! 💖✨

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[orestesimp]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 13 | FINALE

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: The end is the beginning is the end. Or alternatively: You finally get to have Marc's beautiful face buried between your thighs.

Content: will cause unrealistic sex expectations.

Word count; 17k (guys I'm so sorry)

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS]

Your face, small and pinched and dirty, looks back at you from the tiny mirror in Steven’s loo. The unflattering fluorescent lights aren’t doing you any favours. Eyes wide and strung out. A burst bottom lip. You look dreadful. 

Your clothes are soggy and cold underneath Marc’s somewhat drier jacket, mucky with grime and mud (and god knows what else), clinging wetly to your skin. 

You look like something the cat dragged in. 

You shiver. The idiom feels a little too on the nose, considering you were dragged across East London’s dirty concrete not even an hour ago. Just… not by a cat.  You shiver again, harder this time, trying not to think about it.

A shower. Marc sent you in here to take a shower. “Go get clean,” he’d said, “Warm up.” 

Right now you feel like you’ll never be warm again.

Marc’s jacket comes off first, and you hang it carefully on a hook, running two fingers over the cuff. You stare at it for a moment, fighting the urge to clutch it to your chest and bury your face in it. On autopilot, you reach out to undo your wristwatch instead, fingers running over the bare skin for a moment, searching, before you stare down at your wrist in confusion. 

Right. Your watch is gone. 

Or… not gone. Probably still out there in the alleyway, lying face up, cracked glass and all, on the concrete in the rain… next to the carcass of some invisible monster.  You shake your head, pushing away the image. It’s as good as gone, then, isn’t it? You’re certainly not going back out to search for it at this point. You’re bloody well never going down that alleyway again if you can help it. Hell, even going outside ever again might be off the table.

Pulling the shower curtain aside, you start the shower and peel off your ruined clothing, letting everything plop in a solid, sodden mass on the corner of the bathroom floor.

The muscles in your arms and shoulders are stiffening up and threatening to cramp up as the last bit of adrenaline abandons your system, leaving bruises and all-encompassing exhaustion in its wake. Your knees throb with the leftover pain. The water stings your scraped shin when you step under the spray. 

At least it’s warm. 

The heat of the water feels like a balm on your aching limbs, and you close your eyes, tilting your head back under the spray, trying to let the comforting warmth relax you.  

In the darkness behind your eyelids, the shower sounds like rain. Your nakedness feels like vulnerability. Like maybe you never made it back. Maybe you’re still out there, in the narrowness of the alley, under threat from an otherworldly creature that you cannot see, let alone fight. 

Your chest squeezes painfully sharp, and your eyes fly open, half expecting to see the hazy moonlit sky overhead. But no, there’s nothing but the expanse of the blank white ceiling. 

You’re still here in Steven’s shower. Safe, or as safe as it gets right now.

Dropping your gaze, you watch the blood and muck sluice down your legs and onto the tiled floor in rusty red-tinted waves to pool on the tile floor. The dirty water leaves lines of fine grit behind as the rest is sucked down the drain. 

You feel strangely numb. Like some part of your brain (probably an amenable survival mechanism) is trying to block out what happened so you don’t go mad. But maybe it’s too late for that. After all, you were a hair's width away from meeting your maker tonight at the claws of an invisible blob monster. 

It’s impossible to not think about. An irritated half-healed scab itching to be scratched. You turn it over in your mind, trying to process the fact that the supernatural is real—or those creatures were, at any rate. And apparently Marc dons a mummy costume and goes out into the night to battle them like he’s magical girl Sailor Moon. 

God. All of this is right proper insane, isn’t it? You want to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness.

You almost died; your understanding of the world as you know it has fundamentally changed; yet none of it feels real. The world itself doesn’t feel real. 

The water by your feet is running clear now. The dirt and grime finally washed off, but the film of exhaustion still clings to your limbs. Turning off the tap, you step out, grabbing the towel Marc left for you in the corner by the door. Your eyes linger on the set of clean clothes waiting for you underneath, folded into a neat square. 

You can't reconcile the man who does this for you with the same man that pummelled a supernatural monster into a whimpering pulp without hesitation. Didn’t recognise the Marc you thought you knew in the man in the alleyway standing over the creature and curb-stomping it into the ground with cold and blank disdain in his eyes. Couldn’t see that man in the Marc who escorted you home and gently bullied you into the shower. 

Reaching for the clothes, you quickly dress and pull aside the accordion door only to find the very man you were thinking of right outside the door, arms crossed and back plastered to the closest wall as he stands guard.  

You barely cross the threshold before he's already pushing away from the wall and moving in to guide you gently but firmly towards the kitchen like a particularly insistent herding dog.

There’s a fairly extensive first aid kit laid out on the counter, well used by the look of it, and you try not to think too hard about why that might be. 

"Up," Marc commands, curt as ever, swatting a hand down on the surface of the countertop, and you feel like a lamb being rounded back into the pen. 

A ‘please’ wouldn’t have hurt him, but you let it go with just a glare as you shuffle over, too drained to put up a fight over something so small.  You lift your arms to brace against the countertop, getting ready to hop up, and flinch a little as your shoulders twinge and ache. 

Marc is in front of you in a heartbeat, watching you with worried eyes and a furrowed brow. His hands hover, like he wants to help but doesn't dare to touch, and any testiness in you fizzles out at the sight of him.

You give him a small nod, barely able to complete the motion before his hands come down on your waist, lifting you. Even though you’re expecting it, the loss of ground beneath your feet feels sudden, unbalancing you, and you gasp, hands instinctively flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. 

Part of you expects him to drop you, but he doesn’t. Marc’s warm and solid under your palms, strong muscles bunching as he perches you on the counter. 

Blood rushes to your head with furious speed. It must be from the sudden change in altitude. That’s what you tell yourself no matter how doubtful that is considering the standard kitchen counter height is not even three feet above the floor. You're not exactly climbing the Himalayan mountains. But you don’t want to think of the more probable reasons right now. 

You're still reeling from lightheadedness when he lets you go in favour of busying himself with the large tin box on the counter, rifling through the arsenal of medical supplies, and sets down what he needs next to you. Then he's dragging a nearby chair to position himself in front of you. Sitting so close he's practically nestled between your legs. 

It does nothing to help with your newly discovered vertigo symptoms. 

"I’m going to check you over for injuries now,” he says perfunctory, pulling you from your thoughts, “Left leg.”  

You stretch out your leg into the air, glancing down at him, unsure of where to rest it. There’s no space on the tiny kitchen stool. Do you just… put it down in his lap? On his crotch?!?! Or–

Marc's hand wraps around your ankle, and his executive decision-making ends your flailing, as he gently guides your foot to rest against his thigh. Then his head ducks down, and he starts to inspect the patch of scraped skin on your knee, dabbing gently at the scattered dots of blood with a square of clean gauze.

With how tender and swollen everything feels, you expect it to hurt. That at the slightest pressure on your skin, it is bound to sting and snag and tear. But it doesn't. Marc is gentle, barely pressing down and showing such minute care as he tends to you that you barely feel the brush of the cloth at all.

It's such an impossible contrast. The tenderness of his touch as he fusses over you, placing a plaster on your knee, compared to the brutality you’ve now seen him capable of.

You still can't make sense of it. What happened, or what that invisible monster in the rain was. Why Marc was out there. Or what he meant by that being "what he does." 

"Marc," you start tentatively as you lean forward to get his attention, "What happened toni--"

“Wiggle your toes,” he interrupts. 

His odd demand cuts off your line of thought. “What?”

“Try to wiggle your toes for me”, he repeats, without looking up. “Want to make sure you didn’t get any nerve damage.”

You frown, you’re not blind to the fact that his request conveniently just cut you off from asking a question that undoubtedly Marc doesn’t want to answer. Still, you comply, angling your foot upwards and wiggle your toes for his inspection. 

Whether you passed his ad hoc medical examination, Marc’s expression isn’t giving you any clues. His face is as stoic as ever as he sets down your foot. He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches over to your right side to draw your other foot into his lap. 

Marred with bruises, looking like something that got mangled in a bear trap. Your right foot does not make for a pretty sight. It’s swollen and bleeding sluggishly from long gashes where the blob monster’s claw-like grip must have broken through skin. 

It's a gruesome picture, but miraculously, the injury doesn’t seem to be too serious. It stings more than it actually hurts, and it’s not even bleeding much anymore. Not even worth a trip to A&E really, as you doubt it’s deep enough to need stitches. 

At least that’s the assessment based on your own limited medical knowledge. If you based the severity on Marc’s reaction, you’d think it needed amputation. 

The line of his shoulder is pulled taut and reminds you of a live wire. Mouth set in a grim tortured line. He has the expression of a doctor about to give the nearest kin some heartbreaking news as he’s staring down at your foot with haunted guilt in his eyes. 

"I'm all right. I’m sure it just looks a lot worse than it is," you tell him. 

He doesn't meet your eyes or reply for that matter. Instead, he begins to gently tend the wound. Mouth pressing down so tightly his lips go pale white from it. He dabs away the oozing blood, carefully applying antibiotic ointment to the worst of the broken skin, and covering them with large squares of gauze that he tapes in place. It’s all quite professional, really, the practised ease that only comes with repetition. 

You wonder how many times he has done this before. You wonder how much harder it must be for him to suture his own gashes and gaping wounds. Wonder how long he’s been doing this by himself, fighting these hellish creatures. These things that you still have no bloody fucking idea as to what they are. 

"Marc,” you start tentatively, “what was--" A ticklish sensation rushes through you. In panic, you think a centipede is crawling down the sole of your foot. You instinctively jerk your leg up and away, nearly kneeing Marc in the face before you realise what’s happened. 

Your eyes fly downwards to Marc who is entirely unfazed by the close call as you stare at him in shock. His index finger rests on the arch of your heel and you blink up at him in a dumb stupor, not believing your eyes.  

Did he just– did he just fucking tickle you?!

There’s no hint of wrongdoing in his expression. No grin, or crack in his stony facade. He is unflappable as always as he continues cleaning your wound with a straight face. 

"Needed to check if you still had sensation in that foot," he offers up as an explanation as if he thinks that tickling was a perfectly reasonable thing for him to do in the circumstances. 

You frown, biting down the tart comment bubbling in your throat. You want to call him out on it, that you know what he’s up to and he’s acting like a child. But you know that the moment you do, the conversation will derail into an argument and in the flare of your temper, you’ll lose track of your questions. You’re pretty sure Marc knows you well enough that that’s exactly what he is aiming for. 

Gathering a deep calming breath into your chest, you steady yourself before you take a second shot. 

"What was that thing in the rain?" you ask again. 

He acts like he doesn't hear you. "Roll your ankles side to side," he requests instead. 

Irritation prickles your face. This bastard is still trying to evade your questions. 

"Marc," you start again, "what was--"

"Press down your weight on my hand with your foot."

"Marc!" you bark. 

He finally drags his eyes upwards to meet yours without bothering to lift his chin, seemingly as detached and reposed as ever. But there's something else in there too. A tiny flicker as you hold his gaze, and he has to look away. 

He looks… scared. 

Scared of what you don't know. The man practically single-handedly beat three monsters straight out of a Lovecraftian horror story with his bare fists tonight. With strength like that, you don't think anything should ever be capable of scaring him. 

"Can we talk about what happened tonight?" you ask again, trying to keep your voice even. 

His head ducks back down again, and he busies himself by rechecking the bandaids on your injured ankle. 

“There's nothing to talk about,” he murmurs offhandedly, but his hands betray him. 

There's no mistaking it. Even though his shoulders are obscuring your line of sight, you don’t need to see it in order to feel how unsteady his hands are. How his fingers stutter against your skin as they trail over your ankle.

He’s not letting go, as if he’s afraid that if he wasn’t holding onto you, you’d get up and walk away.

Gazing down on him from your vantage point of the counter, Marc doesn’t look as imposing as when you were looking up at him from the rainy concrete in the alley. From up here, he looks small and scared even. 

Even though there is nothing in this flat that should intimidate him. No invisible monsters lurking in the dark shadows behind Steven’s piles and piles of books. The scariest thing in Steven’s flat is dust mites. 

No, the only thing Marc is scared of, you realise, is this conversation. 

That’s what Steven told you, wasn’t it? That 'there are things that Marc hasn't told you.' That 'once you know everything,’ Marc thinks ‘you'll walk away'. 

It’s the final puzzle piece, slotted into its rightful place, and you can finally see the picture that was blurred out before, crystallising in startling detail. 

This is it. This is the big secret. The thing that Marc hasn't told you. 

You get it now. Why he has avoided you all this time. Why he stayed away even after you told him you love him. 

Because how on earth would anyone even begin to explain what happened tonight to someone who wasn’t there? 

How could he possibly have explained any of this to you before now? How would he possibly convince you those things out there (whatever they are) were real without dragging you into danger, head first, to see it with your own eyes? 

Didn't you struggle with the very same thought when you’d first tried to tell Marc what you’d seen in the alley on your own before all hell broke loose? The fear that he wouldn't believe you. That he'd think you were insane. 

Even if he had managed to explain and get you to believe him– what then? 

You can understand it. Why he was convinced that you would leave not just him but Steven as well, causing further collateral damage, if he told you everything. You can see from where he was standing, why he’d worry. 

But this is where Marc is wrong. You still want this. Him. Them.

"What happened tonight, it doesn't change how I feel about you," you start, and his hand on your foot spasms, grip tightening. It’s how you know your guess was right on the button, so you press on. "What I told you on the phone, I still mean it. I–"  you hesitate on the word. 

The last thing you want is to spook him away again by repeating it. It might be too much too soon. Instead, you settle for second best. 

"I want you to come back. Steven and I both do."  

Marc lets go of your foot. You can see his hand shaking despite Marc’s attempt to make it stop. His fingers flex and curl in agitation until he gives up and reaches up to drag it through his matted curls in frustration. 

“You don’t want this,” he says quietly, and his face is still turned downwards, staring at the floor refusing to look up at you. 

Knowing Marc, you know that he could very well mean the situation or himself. After everything that’s happened tonight, the part that upsets you the most is that he still feels this way about himself. 

"I do," you counter, saying the words with the whole of your chest. “I. Want. You. I want all of this.”

In the face of your certainty, he flinches, face pinched as if telling him you want him is a physical slap that pains him. It takes him a second to recover, to shake his head in refusal as he stares down at the floor like it committed a great wrong against him. 

"You want a normal life. Steven can give you that if it’s just the two of you. I can't,” he tells you. His voice, low in that weary and tired tone you overheard in the bathroom. 

"I don't need you to give me a normal life. What does that even mean? ‘Normal,’” you say derisively. “I don't need or want normal if it means you're not there Marc. That's not the life I want.”

He's still not looking at you, biting the insides of his cheek, and you can almost see the walls closing in around him before your very eyes. 

"You said you wanted me safe”, you say, ducking your head to try to catch his gaze, and you manage to see his eyes peer up at you from his lashes, as you continue. “And happy. I'm telling you now, I'm not going to be happy if you're not here."

Marc’s eyes widen with alarm. “You were awake?”

"I–" you start, but he cuts you off before you finish. 

“You were pretending to be asleep?” 

"No, I thought I was dreaming, I–"

“What else did you hear,” he asks. There’s panic in his voice, and he’s already rising from his seat in preparation to flee the room. 

Fuck, how are you fucking this up this badly this fast? Seeing his distress almost makes you want to backtrack, to fold it up and call it a night, try again tomorrow maybe. Because you know in his mind Marc is already bolting for that door, ready to leg it and put as much distance as he can between you and him. 

But… your mind flashes to the weight of his gentle touch on your shoulder. To his fingers brushing away the hair on your forehead. To his quiet voice as he whispered, 'I love you too'. You know what you heard in the dark: a testament of Marc’s feelings for you, and it emboldens you. 

“Marc.” You lean forward, reaching out to take his hand in yours. He stiffens with a jolt as your fingertips brush up against his knuckles, and you can almost see the line of his shoulder vibrate. But he doesn't make any moves to pull away at your touch. 

“I want you. Do you want me?” you ask. 

He stills. Marc looks at you for a long unflinching moment. It’s the same conflicted set in his jaw when you were standing next to him in front of Gus’ tank. The same hesitation written over his face when you were watching him through the back window of the taxi as it pulled away from him in the night. That same pained look when your eyes met in your office before he fled from you. 

His mouth parts with hesitation, but then he bites down and grinds his jaw hard enough that you think you can hear his molars grate from where you sit. “What I want doesn’t matter,” he answers you stubbornly. 

It's enough to make you want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him back and forth and scream into his face. 

“It does!” you say, almost half-shouting. “Of course it matters. You matter.”

"Don't. Don't do that.” Marc shakes his head, and he moves his free hand over yours, gently prying it off of him. “Save that for Steven. He deserves it. Deserves… you. I… I don't.” 

“And what about what I deserve,” you demand, fed up to the gills with his tendency for self-sacrifice, “What I want? Don’t I deserve to decide for myself?” 

That seems to catch him off guard. For once he doesn’t have a ready response, just glares at you, his jaw still set at that impossibly stubborn angle, but his eyes are full of so much pain that it hurts you to see it. You reach out again and cup his cheek.

"Remember that night Gus died? You came to me for help. You said I was the only one you could think of to ask, and it made me so happy that you did. I want you to ask me for things.”

There’s another moment of indecision in his eyes. The upper half of his body tilts in your direction, almost like he’s reaching for you, even if he won’t let his hands do so.

"I just want to be with you,” you continue, “I want to be your person. The person you come to when you need something. Can’t that be enough?"

His eyes are glued on you, mouth gaping open. For a moment you think you've succeeded, managed to stun him into silence and maybe even convinced him. 

It doesn’t last. 

He closes his parted mouth and clamps it shut until it’s compressed into a thin determined line. Then before you can react, he’s abruptly pulling away, turning with wordless efficiency, and walking away from you.  

"Marc?" you call after him, but his determined stride doesn’t even falter,  "Marc!"

Oh goddamnit! 

You hop off the counter, your sore ankle twinging when you land on it, but you ignore the dull ache as you run after him. 

“You don’t have to do this, Marc!" you shout. Slinging your arm out, you only just manage to catch him by the back of his shirt. Your fingers grip onto the fabric for dear life to stop him from getting further away, "You don’t have to do everything on your own. You don’t have to be alone. Steven and I are here. Stop running away from us! We want to support you. Please! You can lean on us.” 

He stops, turning about sharply, fire and brimstone in his eyes. The fuse of his already short temper burnt to a crisp. 

“You and Steven were never supposed to know about me or get caught up in any of this,” he snaps. “I’ve– My life is dangerous. It’s not safe.” 

“Yeah, I noticed the red flags already, you dunce. I still care about you regardless!”

“I don’t want you to care!” Marc roars, and it hits you with the force of a punch to the chest. 

You suck in a sharp pained breath, and he must see the hurt in your face because his eyes soften slightly, but his voice is no less emphatic, “You can’t go poking around in my life. Running out after me in the middle of the night. It's dangerous! You got hurt tonight. You could’ve been killed!"

And that does it. The pain of his implied rejection, the scolding tone, the way it feels like he’s blaming you for getting yourself hurt. It all rubs you the wrong way. All of the patience you had in you up until now evaporates, replaced by a fiery heat burning up your chest until it comes to a boiling point.

“Me?” you bite back indignantly. “What about you? Running around in a bloody Halloween costume in the middle of the night. Fighting invisible monsters? What if you got hurt? What on earth were you doing out there?”

“This is exactly why you needed to stay away from me. You do not want or need my fucking mess, okay!?"  

“Yes, I bloody well do! I'll take your fucking mess, Marc—every speck of it—as long as I get to have you too.”

His gaze bores into yours, eyes dark like spilt ink and brimming with anger so stark it practically sparks. 

“You really want to know what I do? Why I was out there tonight?” he asks, voice quieter, but the anger is still there, simmering just below the surface waiting to erupt. 

The sudden change feels like a gauntlet being thrown down, challenging you to a metaphorical game of chicken, daring you to back away and run for the hills while you still can.

You stand your ground, heels digging into the floor as you nod, swallowing the anxiety you feel pressed up against your throat like an acidic heartburn.  

“I serve Khonshu. I’m his avatar,” he says matter-of-factly as if it’s the most sensible thing in the world. As if any of this is supposed to make sense to you. 

It doesn’t. It makes no fucking sense at all. 

Your mind scrambles to connect the dots. Khonshu? Avatar? What the hell is he on about? Avatar as in James Cameron’s Pocahontas in space? And Khonshu? What even… You can’t even begin to think of what that is supposed to mean. Don’t recognise it save for a passing familiarity that it’s a word that Steven has used when passionately serenading you with facts on Ancient Egypt. The connection between the two is lost to you. 

“What is… ‘Khonshu?'” you ask, and this time, you don’t have to drag the answer out of Marc. 

He answers you willingly and as plainly without varnish as before. “Khonshu’s the ancient Egyptian god of the moon. Years ago, I was stabbed and left for dead. He saved my life and in return, I work for him now.” 

There’s no hint of emotion as he says it. He’s not pleading for you to believe him despite how fantastical it sounds. Not trying to convince you of anything. Marc is leaving it to you whether or not you believe him, almost like he wishes you wouldn’t. Like this bizarre rambling will hopefully finally send you packing and out of his life. And that’s… how you know he’s not lying to you. 

“Work for him… how?” you ask. 

His eyes flick upwards, grinding his teeth as if he’s biting down on a curse, before his gaze settles back on you. 

“I swore to protect travellers of the night.”

And once again, that tells you absolutely nothing. What does that even mean, ‘Travellers of the night’? As in prostitutes?! 

Marc’s obfuscation and frankly dodgy-as-fuck explanations have your blood boiling. You’re almost positive he’s doing this on purpose to get you hacked off, and he’s succeeding. 

“Can you speak in plain English?”

“I take care of bad guys so they don’t harm good people. Protect civilians who can’t protect themselves.”

“So you’re… what? Like a supernatural police officer? A monster hunter? A guardian of the night?”

He grits his teeth. 

“Something like that.” The answer is dismissive, and so is his attitude. He folds his arms across his chest, trying to distance himself from you, casting a glance at the door. “Satisfied? We done here?”

“No! No, we’re not ‘done here.’ We are the furthest thing from done. I already told you, Marc. Nothing that’s happened tonight changes how I feel about you.”

He shakes his head, jaw set mulishly, before tearing his eyes away and turning towards the front door. 

And that just won’t do. If you let Marc walk out now, you know he’ll do everything in his power to avoid you for the rest of his life.

Moving quickly, you dart around Marc and slide between him and the door. In your single-minded hurriedness, you bump into the small table by the door, sending several things clattering over and probably adding yet another bruise to your already abused body, but you don’t care. You cannot let him leave. Plastering your back to the door, you stand tall and raise your chin, prepared to act as a physical barrier if you have to.

Marc’s eyes narrow into slits, a snarl of pure exasperation erupting from the back of his throat.  

“Move,” he orders, taking a step closer to you, but there is no real threat behind it. He doesn’t reach out to touch you; doesn’t grab you or shove you out of the way

He just looks at you like you are an actual obstacle he cannot surpass. But you know that he could move you by force if he wanted to. It’d be easy for him to force his way out of the flat with little effort. 

Between the two of you, physically he’s the stronger one. You’ve witnessed him take out supernatural monsters tonight. If he wanted to, he could shove his way straight through you. Carry you into another room and lock you in. Could easily snap every bone in your wrist in the blink of an eye.

But he won't. After all this time, if there is one thing you’ve learnt about Marc, it is that harm is only ever his last resort. 

The man is squirmish at the prospect of physically harming a goldfish. Would rather visit all the pet shops in all of London in the middle of the night to find a mythical one-finned fish to avoid that outcome. At the core of him, he wants to shield and protect, not break. 

And towards you? He would never use brute strength on you. Would never hurt you. Would give his very life to make sure you’re safe and unharmed. Happy.

In front of you, Marc takes another step forward, closing the distance. His commanding presence crowds you in against the doorframe until there’s barely any space between you anymore. 

Marc is angry. Jaw tense, shoulders tied up in a tangled knot, nose flaring like an angry bull emitting a bright and blaring warning signal for you to move. But you stay put because if he’s a bull, then that must make you a matador, practically waving a red cape at him to come charge you.

He’s staring down at you again. That look in his eyes, like he knows what is best for you. That same stern gaze when he swore you to secrecy, deciding what was best for Steven. The determination there that tells you that this is not up for discussion. 

It’s a recurring pattern with Marc. He decides what he thinks is best for everyone else, with no consideration of what the person in question actually wants. 

“Last chance,” he warns, through gritted teeth, “I won’t ask again.”

Marc probably thinks this is a threat. But it’s only because he can’t see himself, the pain-filled eyes that look back down at you. Nothing is menacing about it. 

“I’m not moving,” you tell him. 

It’s only a fraction of a second, but you catch his eyes flickering to your lips. A near-growling sound tears out of his throat, and then he’s moving forward further into your space.

What is he–?

His hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you to him, and then his lips are on yours. 

Oh.

Marc Spector is kissing you.

It’s hard and demanding, his lips crushed to yours, clearly driven by the frustration and anger that seems to vibrate just under his skin. But it doesn’t matter. You have dreamed of kissing this man for so long. Even with the harshness, you can’t help but respond to him, meeting the brutal press of his lips with your own more eager one. Mouth parting in invitation for him. 

Something shifts. 

All the fight goes out of him, leaking away like hot air out of a punctured balloon, whatever anger was there fizzles out of him, and you feel him melt against your lips. The kiss slips into something softer, sweeter. Something that steals every ounce of oxygen from your lungs. 

You don’t know how long it lasts, the only thing you know is that it doesn’t last long enough. If you could have the choice, you’d want it to last forever. 

It doesn’t of course. Marc retreats from you with an unsteady step. His eyes are etched with shock as you take him in, brows pinched and pupils wide, and you already want to kiss him again. 

The two of you have been here before. Staring at each other from so close a distance that your foreheads are inches from touching. Except this time it’s not in front of a fish tank with an imposter goldfish between you. A stray curl falls into his eyes and tickles your nose. It’s the hint of clean linen, the note of coffee you brew for him every night that he will unfailingly drink because you made it for him. It’s the smell you wake up to embedded in Steven’s sheets. 

You want this man, all of him, to be yours. 

Your face tilts up to him. So close, his lips ghost over yours.

“Marc,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker over your face. “Stop running.”

Part of you expects him to stop you again. That he will pull back, eyeing you like you’re something dangerous, the way he did that night in front of the fish tank. 

He doesn’t. 

You tip your face forward even further, your nose dragging along the bridge of his.

“I love you.” 

You can hear the sharp inhale just like last time you said it over the phone when you did not know if he was on the other end or not. When you didn't know if the sound was imaginary or real. Now you know. 

You couldn’t see his face then, but this time you get to. The pinched furrow between his brow, that look in his eyes that makes your heart seize in your chest. There’s no doubt about it now. 

"And you love me,” you say. 

His lips part, and you brace yourself for another protest or denial, but it doesn’t come. Instead, his head does the slightest tilt forward. A nod, you realise. 

“Yeah.” He whispers it so quietly you nearly miss it at first. 

You smile. Happiness surges through your insides, weaving through your ribs until you think that your chest might burst. 

Marc Spector loves you. 

You swallow in relief, smiling even as you feel a sting prickle the corner of your eyes. Then Marc leans down and closes that infinitesimal space between you, bringing down the final barrier of separation that he has maintained since you met him. 

It’s a soft press of his lips to yours. So soft, it’s scarcely there, but it feels perfect all the same, a fluttering warmth that you can feel down to the curl of your toes. 

It’s an admittance. An invitation. A sign of trust. 

Marc kisses you again and again with lingering kisses that he deepens with each gentle press of his mouth to yours. His hand moves to cup your face in his palm, cradling your cheek like you're the most precious thing he’s ever touched. 

You feel like you ought to be surprised by how gentle he is, but you’re not. Not at all, because of course he’s gentle.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Marc’s hardness is all smoke and mirrors, hiding the vulnerable softness that lies under the hardened skin. Beneath it all, Marc is protective and caring, kind even. 

And now, you finally get to have him in all his confounding complexities. This stubborn, kind, impossible idiot, right here in your arms. 

You pull him closer, even as you keep kissing him, fingers twisting into the brushed cotton of his shirt, and he lets you. Head leaning down as he adjusts his angle so he can slant his mouth fully over yours. He’s pressed up against every single inch of you, from his knees to his chest, your lips fused and somehow it’s still not even close to enough for you. You tug his collar, encouraging him to come even closer and he does, obedient, in a way that you’ve never known him to be before. 

Stepping forward, he follows your lead, inching closer, until the solidness of his chest presses you flush to the door. His arm comes to brace the side of your head, hand cupping behind the back of your neck, and you realise only belatedly it’s the reason why your head isn’t colliding with the hard wood behind you. 

Not that it would matter if you did. You don’t even think you’d notice if your head went through the wall right now. Too focused on the softness of his lips. Too lost in the quiet, near-silent humming sound he makes as he kisses you that sets your nerves alight. 

God, he’s perfect. His closeness is heady. There’s a growing hunger in your stomach that makes your limbs shake and tremble. After all the time he's been away, hiding from you, you feel starved for this. For him. You want to bite his neck, lick along the protruding line of his collarbone and swallow every inch of him down to the marrow if he’d let you. 

For all the gentleness that Marc is showing you, you have no intention of returning the favour. Your teeth sink in, biting down on his bottom lip, and he lets out a quiet involuntary gasp into your mouth. Your veins burn at the sound. Fuck, you want him to make that noise again, that careless pitch of pleasure that sounds so unguarded coming from him. You want to bite and nibble and scratch and claw and have him make every noise known and unknown to mankind. 

You drag your teeth along the swell of his lip, and he shivers, eyes squeezed firmly shut like he’s teetering on the very edge of his self-control. Then you nip down again. 

His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and he curses, the sound breathless and raw, like you tore it out of him before he was prepared. It’s all you want. To hear that sound again and again and again. You want to hear his tiny moans in your ear, the involuntary muffled growl as he buries his face into your neck trying to keep quiet, hear him gasp ‘fuck’ in barely audible decibels. You want everything. 

Hooking your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, you haul him closer as if he wasn’t already pressed alongside your body. Thighs nestled between yours, the coarseness of denim scraping against your bare legs. You can feel the hardening bulge trapped between you, and you want him to grind against you, to rut into you mindlessly until you can feel his cock twitch against the softness of your belly. 

But Marc isn’t showing any signs of obliging you in that department, and you’re not willing to stop kissing him in order to give him directions. Instead, you arch your back away from the wall, tilting your pelvis until you rub up against his crotch. He jolts hard at the contact, the line of his body wracked in shivers with a gorgeous groan that is cut off too soon. 

"Shit!”  

His hand leaves your neck. Then he’s pulling back and away from you in retreat. You immediately miss the warmth of his body, reaching up to try to chase after the loveliness of his lips, but he stops you. A gentle but firm hand comes down on your shoulder, pinning you against the wall. 

You stare up at him, and you’re not sure you’re breathing anymore at the sight of him. You should be used to how preposterously beautiful this man is by now. But you never are. Each time feels novel and so much worse–no, better than the last time. The collar of his shirt is stretched and askew. Curls a mess against his forehead. Lips, slick and kiss-swollen as his mouth hangs open, chest heaving as he pants. 

As stunningly pretty as Steven is when you’ve succeeded in making a mess out of him, to do it to Marc is something else entirely. This orderly, neat freak of a man who makes it his life mission to repress his emotions and jam them shut inside of himself with a tight lid. You did this. You’ve made a mess of him. It’s electric, your veins buzz with the thrill, and your brain is screaming for more. 

Your hand reaches up, fingers carding through his hair as you reel him in by the back of his neck. Your mouth finds his, kissing him hard before he has time to overthink it or, god forbid, change his mind and try to bolt again. His mouth parts, and you swallow the soft oomph of surprise that escapes his throat and lean in, licking desperately into his mouth. If this is all you get, you want to try to savour him. 

Marc doesn’t stop you this time. Instead, his hands settle on your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he’s pulling you closer. It has the whole of your back from the base of your spine to the tip of your nose tingling. 

This time he’s the one grinding into you, the hard outline of his cock pressed tight between you. Even through the thick layer of denim, you can feel how hard he is, and you shiver pleasantly.

You moan into the kiss, rising on your tiptoes to meet him. There’s not an inch of space between your bodies, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch against your hip. 

And fuck, fuck– that’s– 

You need to get him in bed now before you hitch your legs and clamber onto his thighs to climb him like the trunk of a tree. Why the fuck did the architect place the bedroom section at the opposite end of the flat.

Stepping one foot sideways, you tug at the neck of Marc’s shirt to steer him towards the bed. There’s no resistance. He shows you the same obedience as before, easily letting himself be pulled by you as you start walking blindly backwards, navigating the two of you through the junkyard of Steven’s mess. 

Any second now you’re expecting to trip over the damn ottoman, except this is Steven's flat, not yours. And this isn’t Steven; it’s Marc in your arms. Steady and composed in his every step, with none of the charming incoordination of Steven. No, Marc steers you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Arms bracketing your side to make sure your hips don’t bump into any hard-edged furniture, preemptively pushing back a teetering book from the shelf before it even has the time to leap off the ledge. 

Marc—beautiful, stubborn Marc, who is as immovable as a rock in his decisions—is letting you pull and tug him in whatever direction you’re choosing to go. Kissing you with each unbalanced step backwards, like you’re the only air he ever needs to breathe. 

There’s a flicker of light as you pass Gus’ tank, and it dims when you move past Steven’s desk and the telly. God. It’s a journey of fewer than 20 feet that should take you less than ten seconds and not the eternity that it seems to take. 

When you finally feel the fine, gritty sand beneath the sole of your foot, it feels like victory. The soft brush of the sheets pressing up against your calves is the rope of the finish line that you’d never imagined you’d reach. 

You want to memorialise this moment somehow. Etch it into your memory so you’ll never forget. Carve it into the wooden beam structures of this very flat so it’ll outlast you both. 

Marc’s hands on your hips guide you gently to a stop, and you realise with a rush of giddiness that you’ve finally reached your destination. You break the kiss long enough to sit down on the edge of the bed, and you don’t even need to tug at the corner of his sleeve for Marc to dutifully follow you down. He helps you lay back and leans in after you, the firm weight of his body settling over you, pressing you down into the mattress. 

The weight of Marc feels perfect, as his head tips down to your face, kissing over the curve of your jaw to your neck. He’s pressing open-mouthed kisses down the line of your throat and the swell of your chest. It’s tender. Reverent almost.

Marc is unbothered by the cotton layer of clothing that separates his mouth from your bare skin as he goes. His mouth grazes your knuckles, kissing the inside of your wrist. He’s soft yet insistent. Hungry but slow. God, he’s slow, infuriatingly so, to the point where you wonder if he’s taking the mick out of you. 

His lips trail a row of devoted kisses against the bare skin of your stomach where your shirt has ridden up, barely lifting the hem up and letting it ride up against your ribs as he puts his mouth there too. If it didn’t feel so good to have his mouth on you, you’d consider it torture with the pace that he’s going. You’re aching, everything inside is pulled so taught and tight you might burst out of your skin.

Those cotton soft curls tickle against your thighs on his way down, and you spread them for him in a not-so-subtle invitation. But Marc doesn’t pay you any mind, that earlier obedience that had endeared him to you is nowhere to be found now. He continues down, knees sinking into the sand lining the perimeter of the bed until he’s kneeling down in front of you on the bed. 

Then he stops. 

You hold your breath waiting for him to continue. But nothing happens, and your first instinct is that he’s changed his mind again. You’re almost lunging after him. Fully prepared to tackle him down with a wrestling move you’ve seen on the telly and pin him against the sand and wooden floor. 

But he’s not moving away from you. 

Opening your eyes to peek, you lift yourself on one arm, tilting down your head to find yourself staring back at those pitch-dark eyes. 

You’re not prepared for the sight of him. Of Marc on his knees, peering up at you through his lashes, like you’re a solemn prayer that he’s clinging onto by his fingertips. The vision of him flattens your lungs, taking any oxygen away with it. He’s looking at you like you’re something to be protected and cared for. As if you’re all he’s ever wanted and would never allow himself to have. 

Marc’s bending down again, lips brushing your skinned knee as his warm breath ghosts over the raw skin. He goes over every scrape and scratch with his mouth. It’s his way of atoning for ever letting you get hurt. 

And as good as that feels, as much as you never want him to stop. You need more. More than this torturous, drawn-out pace that he’s giving you, or you think you’ll tear your hair out by the roots and go mad with it. 

“Marc.” You’re trying to say it with urgency, maybe even hint at your annoyance, but it comes out as a high-pitched, delirious plea, “Marc please, I need–” 

He doesn’t answer you with any words. Instead, his hands come to the side of your hips, fingers slipping into your sleep shorts, hooking the hem of your knickers with them as he pulls them down. 

“Lift,” he commands, in the same brusque way he had before when ordering you to sit on the kitchen counter. But this time you’re only too eager to comply. 

You’re so excited you nearly deal a high kick to his face, miraculously missing him by only a couple of inches. 

From the corner of your eye, you swear you catch an amused half-smile quirking the corners of his lips. But before you can take a better look to confirm it, he ducks his head back down, even though you think you can see the line of his shoulders shake from what might very well be laughter. 

But your mind doesn't get to linger on it for long. His hand curls over your thigh, and he settles your leg on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the inner side that his mouth can reach. Then he hooks your leg over his back, and sharp heat settles deep in your stomach.

His warm breath fans against the bare skin raising goosebumps in its wake. He continues to lick  over the softness of your belly. Nipping at your hip and the insides of your legs, covering every inch of you he can reach with his mouth. Purposefully avoiding the slick ache between your legs where you need his mouth and tongue most. 

Fuck, you could kill him for that. 

“Marc.” His name is a whine between your lips. It sounds pathetic to your ears, but you don’t care. You’re not above begging. Not if there’s a chance it will get you more of this, of him. 

“Please, Marc, just– I need you to–” 

“Baby,” he murmurs, cutting off your pleas. It’s almost reproachful, but it doesn’t matter because that’s not what your mind is focused on. This is the first endearment Marc has ever used for you and it sounds so sweet on his lips. Makes you feel loved and cared for despite the admonishing tone. 

“Be patient,” he scolds, but there’s so much fondness in his voice for you, it makes you lightheaded. “I’m gonna take my time with you.” 

There’s only a brief second as you catch a peek of the pink tip of his tongue, glistening against his lips. His eyes flutter closed as he dips down. Heat crackles throughout your limbs, and your lungs pull tight in anticipation. The air around you thins, and for a moment as you try to desperately swallow down the air in your throat, the room seems to tilt. 

Then he gives you his mouth, and as cliche as it sounds, it’s heaven. A long, controlled press of his tongue through your wet and slick folds. Endorphins rush through you to the top of your head, and you can’t help how your body reacts, arching up against his mouth with a gasp that is punched out of your lungs. 

Then he does it again, and somehow, though you can’t even fathom how it’s not defying the laws of science and time as you know it, he goes even slower. The velvet softness of his tongue drags with an unhurried press across the seam of your pussy until he reaches the apex and licks with a silken glide on your wet clit. You nearly swallow your tongue to tamper the whine trapped in your throat. 

This is not the pace you were expecting. Maybe it’s wishful thinking on your part, but you thought he’d be impatient. Almost anticipated that his movements would be sparse and efficient like every other aspect of his life, pushing you to a high-speed climax like a carcrash.  

This is not that. This is Marc taking his own sweet time. His tongue is a slow decadent drag against your clit, and you feel his warm breath ghost over you, inhaling the scent of you as he takes you in. 

Sweet heady pleasure climbs up the back of your thighs, filling your stomach with it. It’s so much, you don’t know if you can fit it all within, all the emotions that are welling up in your chest to spill out of you. Your fingers grip his solid shoulders to anchor yourself. You roll your hips against his mouth in an attempt to urge him on, but he refuses to take the hint. His tongue makes a slow, thorough exploration, interrupted only by the open-mouthed kisses that he presses against your mound, your hip, your cunt. 

You can feel the tension in his shoulder under your thigh. Can hear it in the quick rasp of his breath, but still, his pace remains slow and measured. Steadily kindling the smouldering heat beneath your skin, lick by torturous lick. 

It’s perfect. Hot as sin and twice as glorious, but you could scream with how agonisingly glacial the build-up is. A strange, high-pitched sound escapes you. An unflattering blend between a moan and a sob. It sounds like you’re in pain when all you feel is pleasure, and then you hear Marc shushing you again. This time softer, comforting even. 

“It's alright. You're alright. You can take it for me,” he says into your skin, mouth pressed against your clit with a warm hum that rumbles through your flesh. Your veins drip with something sweet and honeyed at his tone. 

Marc is so exacting, not at all like Steven’s wild hunger. His tongue laves at you, warm and wet, with an unceasing gentle pressure, gliding over and around your clit. Decadently slow, but never stopping. The feeling is intense and unrelenting. Somehow dragging you closer and closer to the edge but never quite enough to push you over. 

Digging your heels into his back, you tilt your hips as far as the strain in your muscles will allow you to get closer. You rock yourself against his mouth, and Marc groans, a pleased, encouraging sound, even as his hands grip the flesh of your waist and hold you firm against the pillowy softness of the bed to make sure you don’t try to ride out your own pleasure against his face at a faster pace than he has set for you.  

You could scream with frustration. If the left hemisphere of your brain responsible for speech wasn’t so severely compromised by Marc, you would be screeching until your throat goes raw with it. Instead, you hiccup a broken sob, his name quiet and cracked on your lips. 

"That's right. You're alright," he soothes, as he presses his forehead against your stomach. If you didn’t know better, his voice almost sounds a bit shaky, slurring on the last word as he bends back down and puts his mouth back between your thighs, onto your sensitive flesh and gently sucks. 

Those unruly curls tickle against the soft skin. You only meant to brush his hair away, but as soon as your fingers curl into the soft heat of them, you can’t help but grip tighter at the silky touch. Carding your hand through the curly locks. 

You don’t mean to tug, but the careful drag of his teeth against your clit sends a sharp electric jolt up your spine, short-circuiting your lungs and sending you clawing at his curls for dear life. It should not feel this good, and yet you find yourself chasing the sensation, nearly buckling over, as your heel digs into the firm muscles of his back to anchor yourself. 

You can’t even look anymore. Why torture yourself with the sight of him buried between your legs. Cheeks dusted crimson, and those breathtakingly expressive eyes burning into yours as if he’s trying to memorise every minute detail of your expression. You can see his jaw working on your pussy. Can feel him as his tongue keeps sliding hot and insistent without reprieve against your overstimulated clit. 

It’s so much. Too much. All your senses feel overloaded. Your vision goes blurry. You’re not sure if it’s tears that are stinging behind your eyelids or if they cross at the back of your head as everything dims and darkens, like a fuse box blowing out. It’s all too much, and you’re being dragged under and drowning in the sensations. You need to pull up above the surface to breathe again or you’re sure you’re going to die. 

You grab at Marc’s hand like he’s your life preserver, and he weaves his fingers between yours. It’s surprisingly intimate, as he squeezes your hand back, pressing your intwined hands to your hip bone, reassuring you he’s right there and—fuck, it’s… It’s so much, too much. 

It’s chaos. A mayhem between your violently beating heart and burning lungs. You think there must be something wrong with you. Can’t possibly contain the pleasure that keeps pouring and pouring into you. For a fraction of a second, as your mind is torn apart by the sensations, and you are convinced that you must be having a heart attack. What other explanation could there possibly be?

“Ma–Marc, I–I’m– Fuck, oh god, oh fuck."

Marc eases back, “It’s okay.” He presses his mouth to your clit and kisses it, and the slick sound his mouth makes have you trembling and shaking so hard you’re convulsing against the sheets. “You’re okay,” he soothes. “Let go. I’ve got you. Come for me.”

Warmth floods your veins touching every part of your body, humming through every nerve and cell as your orgasm washes over you. It’s hard and unforgiving. Your body is trying to claim revenge on you for allowing it to take so long as it did. Everything else around you disappears, pulling you under with a vengeance that blots out your vision and all sounds with it. 

But it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters to you anymore is how everything in you tingles pleasantly. It lingers long after it’s over, and you can still feel it from the tip of your fingers to the curl of your toes as you come down on Marc’s tongue. 

His face is still buried between your thighs. His tongue curled against your entrance as he laps every drop of slick out of you. Drinking you down and swallowing every trace of your pleasure. He doesn’t let up for long moments until finally he’s satisfied and drags his head up your body. 

“Did so good,” he praises, voice raspy and raw as his tongue trails a long affectionate line down your femur. 

He presses his mouth to your knee with the same gentle care he did when he’d applied plasters. It’s intimate. Sweet. 

Part of you feels silly to feel this affected by such a simple affectionate gesture considering what preceded it, but your heartbeat flutters at the touch. 

It doesn’t matter that you’ve barely just come down from your orgasm or that you’re still throbbing and sensitive between your legs. Limbs so wrung out, they’re tingling and numb. You’re already craving the closeness of him all over again. 

“Marc,” you call out for him, arm outstretched in an invitation for him to join you on the bed. 

He doesn’t move, and it takes you a few moments, your mind fuzzy around the edges with the afterwaves of your orgasm to register that something's wrong. Everything is blurry and obscured by a warm haze, and you have to blink through the watery periphery of your vision before you can see him a bit more clearly. 

Still on his knees, Marc’s mouth parts slightly open, like he maybe wants to say something but he doesn’t know how. There’s hesitation there in the tenseness of his jaw as his eyes flick away from your gaze, as if there’s still some invisible barrier that he won’t let himself cross.  

It is a little bit ridiculous. After all, what barriers between you are there possibly left to cross? You and him nearly died together tonight. You love him, and he loves you too. Bloody hell, he’s just spent the better half of this night with his head buried between your thighs. There’s no stone left unturned.

But you know it’s not that simple. There’s a deeply embedded seed in Marc, buried under his skin and flesh and left to sprout for decades, long before you came along. Making him doubt himself and his place with you. It doesn’t matter how far you two come. He might always struggle with letting himself have what he wants guilt-free. Because he still doesn’t think he has a right to, that he doesn’t deserve it. 

You plant an elbow on the mattress to raise yourself. But your arms have turned into boneless gelatine, wobbling under your weight, and you nearly topple over. Marc moves so fast, you only register a blur of movement, before he’s by your side. Steadying you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“Easy. Lie back,” he says, eyes narrowed and worried, as he’s ushering you back down. The man’s got a protective streak a mile wide. 

“Marc, please—” you start, but you don’t have to finish. 

He breaks with your plea, and his knee dips into the bed, fully climbing in. His arms brace your sides as he lowers himself onto the bed. 

“What, baby? What do you need? Tell me.” He says it like you only have to speak the words, and then your every wish will be his command.  

There’s no fight left in his tone anymore. Voice gone soft. Any internal doubts have melted out of him. The look in his eyes as he gazes down on you tells you that Marc would give you anything you ask for. This man would insist on throwing himself under a double-decker bus if he thought it would make the ride a tiny bit smoother for you. 

And oh… You get it now. 

It’s taken you far too long, but you might have finally solved the puzzle that is Marc Spector. For all his aversion to let himself have even a morsel of happiness, there’s always been one overriding drive. There’s one thing that towers above the shame and guilt. One thing that’s more important to him than everything else. It’s in the way he’s always trying to meet the needs of those he cares for. Their happiness. Steven’s. Yours. 

All you need to do is ask for him. 

“You. I need you. Want you. Please.” 

You can see it in real time as it happens. How the last traces of hesitation in him crumble, replaced by a determination that carves into those rich brown eyes. He drops forward, then he's sealing his mouth over yours like he’s signing on the dotted line, giving himself over to you.  

It's everything.

Marc leans back again, fingers hooking into the hem of his t-shirt and dragging it off over his head in a single fluid motion. There’s no tangling of fabric, and it doesn’t get snagged as he tugs it over his head. There’s none of the clumsy adorableness of his alter. Marc undresses with practised ease like it was choreographed for the sole purpose of making your heart race faster. 

Good fucking grief, you might’ve already seen this man before you naked on more occasions than you can count. But as he towers above you, skin golden in the dim light, the sight of his bare chest feels novel in a way that has your heart dropping to your lungs that must be entirely medically unsafe. You can’t help but stare shamelessly. 

Chiselled and hard from the top of his head to his toes. You remember being surprised by how fit Steven was the first time, but somehow on Marc, it seems right. His physique reminds you of mythic Greek heroes memorialised in marble, and you're taken aback at how soft and warm he is under your hands. That he's human, made out of flesh and bone, and that he shivers as you drag your palms across the bare skin of his chest and stomach. 

The anticipation crackles in your thighs, burning with a searing intensity at the thought of undressing him, gingerly unwrap him like a decadent present. But you’re greedy and have none of Marc’s patience. You wrench at his belt with little to no finesse, reaching down and wedging your fingers along the hem of his jeans to shove them down forcefully against the generous curve of his ass. You tug hard enough that you hear Marc choke out a wheezed breath, but you’re not even paying it any attention. 

His hardened cock slaps against his stomach with a heavy thud and everything in you roars to attention at how thick and swollen he is for you. You feel heavy with need at the sight of it, and your brain is on autopilot, acting without conscious thought as you’re already reaching forward. Your knuckles skim down over his stomach before greedily wrapping your hand around his cock. 

A deep groan tears out of his chest, and his hand snaps up to grab your wrist, holding you still. He clamps his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, inhaling heavily through his nostrils, breathing in and out with great struggle.  

As much as you enjoy getting a rise out of him, you’re not trying to make things difficult for Marc on purpose. At least you don’t think you are. But you can’t look away from his cock. You can feel it straining and twitching in your hold, can see the trickle of glistening precome welling up from the flushed tip. 

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, practically salivating as your thumb gently drags over the slick wetness there. The touch has his hips bucking, stuttering into your hands with a sound that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper. Your cheeks burn and tingle, your whole body flashing hot. 

“Fuck,” he snarls and knocks your hand away, “You fucking ruin me, you know that?”

You want to retort that he’s the one to talk. Point out that he’s left you a dripping slick mess that’s soaked into the bedsheets and mattress and made them unsalvageable; that your thighs are an aching mess and you’re still swollen and sensitive from his mouth. But all vocabulary flies out of your head at the sight of him, as he replaces your hand with his own, wrapping one large hand around his cock.

Your heart stutters somewhere in your chest, and the breath in your lungs still with anticipation as he drops down to settle himself into place between your legs, knees nudging against your thighs to spread you wider for him as he notches the fat tip against your slick entrance. 

His eyes lock on yours, the tip of his nose brushing alongside yours. He leans down to kiss you again, mouth warm and slick. You can still taste yourself on him, tart and almost sweet. Then he pushes inside of you, and your mind goes numb.

The first slide of him inside you is perfect. A sweet filling stretch that threatens to blot out everything else into nothingness.

Even though it’s your first time with Marc, your body already knows him. Craves every inch of him, and he’s willing to give that to you now, inch by slow maddening inch as he eases inside. Large hands clutching your sides, as his hips press forward and he works himself inside you. His cock pushes deep until he’s buried  to the hilt. Then he stills, shuddering. 

“Shit—,” he groans, dipping his head to press his face into your shoulder. “You gotta be kidding me.” His voice sounds shaky and strained. You’re not entirely sure what he means or what he finds so implausible. If he can’t believe he’s finally inside you after all this time or how good it feels. You just know you can’t believe it either. 

It's flawed logic, but you’re not exactly coherent at this moment. Lungs squeezing tight in your diaphragm, you’re only capable of sobbing nonsensically at the consuming sensation of him filling you. Can barely focus on the warm tingle on your spine that settles over you. Your mind has been filled with cotton, soft and hazy as he’s completely sheathed inside, as deep as he can physically be.   

Marc holds there for a long moment, his breath hot on your skin where he pants against your collarbone. He doesn’t move. Hips pressed flush against yours, taking his time to let your body adjust to the girth of him. 

His mouth is on your bare skin, pressing kisses to your lips and then the apples of your cheek, before he drags himself downwards to mouth at the side of your neck, and under your jaw. Hands roaming along your ribs and hips like he cannot stop touching you. It’s devoted, loving even, the gentleness to his touch. It makes everything all the more overwhelming for you. He’s ruining you, with every caress on your flesh, and kiss to your skin, and he has barely even moved yet. 

And god, you need him to. 

"Marc."

He doesn't seem to hear you, mouth continuing to dot lazy kisses across your clavicle. 

"Please.” You arch your back towards him, but you don’t get very far with his weight flattening you down against the bed. 

“Marc, need you to move," you try again, voice high-pitched and needy, but you could be pleading to a stone wall for all the good it seems to do. His hips don't move from his position, immovable like a boulder. Instead, his palms fan out against your ribs, fingerprints permanently searing into your skin with the heat of his touch. 

You can’t take it anymore, everything inside you is screaming, bursting at the seams for more and you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to force him deeper. To move. 

Your heels dig into the rounded curve of his ass, and he jerks and gasps. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, as those stupendously gorgeous eyes flutter open. He’s looking at you again, stirred from the spell and the soft expression on his face hardens with determination. 

"Yeah, baby. I got you," he says, and he finally complies. His hand comes to rest on the small of your lower back, tilting you up to him as he moves again. The hard drag of his cock slides out of you until only the blunt tip rests inside, and then he thrusts back, unhurried and deliberate. 

Slow simmering pleasure bubbles up in your veins and you have to swallow it down with a hiccup of a sob. It's still the same ruthlessly slow and thorough pace. The one that tells you he won't be rushed, won't be hurried, even as he's giving you exactly what you asked him for. 

Stubborn. Unreasonable. Maddening. You won't survive him. 

The next thrust is demanding. It strikes heat along your spine and squeezes the air out of your lungs, until there's none of it left so you can fit more of him inside. A strange squeaky noise punches out of your throat, and in panic you clamber onto him.

He does it again. Hips dragging back as he pulls himself away, altering the angle of your hips with a small adjustment as he cants your hips upwards again. This time he lifts you further up than before and he pushes his way in with an almost testing stroke. His eyes narrow as he gazes down on you, brows furrowed in concentration and you realise what he’s doing. 

Marc is slow and exacting, studying your every reaction, learning the best way to intricately pull you apart. 

Staring up at him like this feels like you’re witnessing your own demise as it unfurls. Those unwavering eyes are focused on you, watching your every expression. He’s tilting the angle of his thrusts until he drives the pleasure deeper inside you with devastating precision until there is nothing left of you. Until tears are stinging in the corner of your eyes because you’re sure that you can’t fit more within you — the pleasure and him— and then he does somehow. 

He catches your leg, hitching them higher so that he can slide a few inches deeper. The angle shifts, striking against something raw and overwhelming. You think you go blind with it and you swear you see stars collapsing behind the darkness of your eyelids. 

"Yeah, there we go." His voice in your ear is calm, but he also sounds proud and pleased, and you're not sure if it's with himself or you. It’s all you can hear, and then he’s moving again.

A rich pleasure fills you at the slow glide of his cock dragging out of you, and then he pushes inside again, deep and determined, until his cock is kissing that deep perfect spot that robs you of your ability to breathe. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Can feel–” he groans, rolling his hips into yours, and it’s fucking devastating. 

Your mind goes blank. A clean slate with no thought left in you except how good it feels. All you can do is moan and whimper, hands clutching desperately to his shoulders. "Oh– Oh, god. Marc, I– oh!"

He groans, slanting his mouth over yours and swallows the words down, cradling your head with his fingers. Soft doting presses of his lips to yours. 

"Fuck, you feel so–" His sentence is cut off, and you never get to hear the rest of what he was going to say. 

His mouth is on yours again and it’s nothing like the starved and overwhelmingly eager kisses you’re used to from these lips when it’s Steven who’s kissing you. This is slow and measured. Patient and deliberate as he takes his time with you. He’s kissing you like he’s trying to tell you a secret. Like he’s entrusting you with something important, to protect and to keep for him. 

His finger rubs small circles under your ear, his hips slow and consuming as he fucks his cock into you. His arms never leave your side. Mouth never lifting from yours. His whole body pressed as deeply into you as he physically can. 

It feels like a confession. 

The ‘I love you’ that he can’t bring himself to say in front of you and can only admit to in the dead of night when he thought you were asleep. 

His kiss is a soft and devoted touch. A complete contrast to the rest of him, as he continues to thrust into you, fucking his cock deeper inside you and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up. 

It’s pleasure. It’s aggravation. It’s love and a defeat and a million other contradictory emotions between you and Marc that may never be resolved. 

And you’re not going to try to. You’re happy to take him as he is, cracks and all. You accept it, his lips pressed against yours. Accept his demanding rhythm as he drives himself into you deeper and deeper. Accept the insistent heat that curls at the base of your spine, until it is a searing and smouldering burn and sparks like ember, numbing your legs with it. It is threatening to consume your very being and burn you into ashes as it flares bright in your lungs and you can no longer breathe as the pleasure of it is ready to overspill, and—

“Baby, you close again?” 

And fuck, that’s—that’s— Your stomach tenses up again. The warmth spreads, twining and branches out along every single vein flooding it with blinding bliss until you’re dizzy with it. 

You’re trying to say yes, trying to nod, but your body isn’t responding to your will anymore. It has a mind of its own, and all it wants is to be closer to Marc, to grab onto him and never let go. Your limbs are wrapped all around him, legs locked around his waist, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders so hard you know you’re breaking skin. The only thing you’re still in control of is to helplessly squeeze down tight on his cock as it slides thick and heavy in you. 

“Oh fuck, that’s–” his voice sounds pitched and almost vulnerable, the arm curled around your leg, squeezing tighter. 

Pleasure builds in you like the tide, rising slow and steady but inexorable, filling you until there's no room for oxygen or thoughts or anything else except the consuming push of Marc’s cock inside of you. 

And then it breaks, ecstasy streaking out along your every nerve, overwhelming and inescapable, threatening to wash you away with it, except that you’re pinned, held safe by the grounding weight of Marc’s body and the reassuring press of his forehead against yours as you come on his cock.  

You open your eyes to find yourself staring up at him, still bleary-eyed and drunk on bliss. You can only make out the colour of his eyes, the dark ink of his hair. But blurry as he is, you’re intimately aware of how he can see all of you. The glazed look that you must be holding in your half-open eyes as wrought out with pleasure as you are. The hair plastered to your forehead. The absolute mess of a state he’s left you in, and how debauched you must look in front of him. Face to face, all of you bare and uncovered, there in its unembellished form for him to see. 

But that means you can see Marc too. As your vision clears, you can pick out every small detail of his expression. The subtle tic of the muscle in his jaw. The furrow in his brow. How his mouth is slack with pleasure. Those rich eyes of his are blown wide open until they’re left exposed. You can see it clearly now, how he’s clearly trying and struggling to hold back. The vulnerability that he’s been trying to hide from the world the entire time you’ve known him. 

Not for the first time, as he holds himself above you, you find yourself marvelling at how beautiful he is. Identical to Steven, yet worlds apart. 

Steven is hope and light and the curve of a gentle smile. Marc is sharp lines and dark shadows and heat behind his pained eyes. Jagged edges to Steven’s soft curves. Jaded cynicism to Steven's cheerful enthusiasm. Dark secrets and carefully hidden skeletons lurking in closets to Steven's forthright honesty.

And god help you, you love them both beyond measure.

The weight of his body is pressing down against you now. Every inch of the smooth golden skin pinned against yours, warm and flushed against your heated flesh. He grinds himself against you, needy, and desperate. There’s no longer any rhythm or logic to it. Just an instinctual primal need to get closer. You spread your legs as wide as you can to welcome him deeper, to take all of him as much as you can even as your thighs ache in protest from overexertion. 

His mouth moves against yours, stuttering and trembling, and it takes you far too long to register the words that are coming from him. 

“Fuck, baby, fuck I’m–” he chokes out brokenly against your lips, his hands on your hips holding on tighter. 

He stills, and you think maybe this is it, that he’s about to come. Anticipation rises in your chest, and you hold him tighter, body clenching down in preparation. 

But he doesn’t come. Just holds himself there, shuddering against you, his forehead against your chin, panting breaths, hot and humid, against the base of your neck. His cock is pulsing where it’s buried thickly inside you. Thighs quivering and barely able to keep them upright where they’re pressed between yours. You know that he wants to come. Needs to come. You just don’t understand why he’s refusing to give in. 

“It’s okay, Marc. You can let go. Come for me,” the words are a struggle to get out. Your voice hoarse and scraped raw in your throat. 

There’s a long moment of stillness, then he heaves a sigh so weary it makes your heart clench, as he starts shaking his head.

“No,” he grits out, voice low and determined as it so often is.  His head comes up, dark, fuck-drunk eyes meeting yours, jaw set at that stubborn angle you’ve come to know so well, and he says it again. 

“No. I– I’m not–“ He cuts off, shaking his head again. “Fuck, not yet,” he says. Then he rallies through, lifting his body away from yours and drives himself deep inside you with a shudder. “Not ready. Don’t want this to end.”

It sounds like a plea, and you’re not sure who he’s pleading with, you or himself, and there is a pang of pain in your chest for him. Because this idiot still doesn’t get it. 

It’s like he’s never known softness. Hardness forged from a lifetime of a man who’s always had to hold himself up without respite. There’s a loneliness in it, of being the one who always has to take care of everyone else with nowhere to put down his burdens. 

Fondness swells up in you and there is nowhere to direct it except for the object of your affection. You wrap your arms tighter around him, smoothing one palm over the sweat-slick, heaving muscles of his back, and whisper reassurances into the hair above his ear. 

“Marc,” you breathe out and at the sound of you calling his name, his eyes snap up to yours. “Nothing’s ending.” 

His arms buckle and he lets out a small choked sound that almost sounds like a whimper. He looks like he can barely hold himself up anymore.  

“You have me,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his. You kiss the arch of his jaw and mouth at the column of his neck. “Have had me for a long time.” 

He tenses at your words, whole body trembling above you. But he still refuses to let go. 

How many times will you have to keep reaching out to this impossibly stubborn man before he starts believing that you mean it?

Your hands come to the sharp edge of his cheekbones, cradling this face that you have fallen in love with twice over. Not just because it is Steven’s face. Not just because he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. But because it’s Marc too. 

“I love you.” 

At your words, those determined eyes pitched with dark concentration blanks into a stupefied daze.  

His head tilts slightly, a movement so small it doesn’t register at first that he’s nodding. Then his face drops closer, pressing his lips to yours. The line of his shoulder softens under your locked arms, lowering himself down onto you. His hips sink into you, his cock dragging thickly inside you as deep as it goes. 

You watch in awe as his mouth falls open, eyes rolling back, and you can feel it as he comes inside you. Pulse after devastating pulse. 

And god, he’s so beautiful like this; unruly curls wild and ruined, cut cheeks a faint crimson, skin slick with glistening sweat in the dim light. So perfectly undone and at peace. The pulse of his cock inside you as he spills himself deep inside you is almost secondary.

You bask in it. The warmth of his arms caging you in, his forehead pressing down firm against yours. The feeling of him so deep inside you, you’ll happily drown in the feeling of this man after waiting for him so long. His body slumps, dropping his weight on yours, completely depleted. 

His cock is still hard, arms still trembling when Marc shifts on top of you, trying to raise himself on one elbow. It's too soon for him to move, you don't want him to move, want him to lie on top of you forever.

Logically, you know it’s out of consideration. He’s probably worried that he’s squishing you, but an irrational fear swoops low in your stomach at the idea that he’s going to leave again. Your fingers dig into his forearm, dragging him back towards you. 

He lands on top of you with a quiet and tired grunt in your ear, but there’s no other protest from him. Marc lets you, shifting ever so slightly to make sure that his elbow doesn’t jab into your ribs as he settles on top of you. Then he stays, and you get to listen to the slow steadying of his breath, as the erratic rise and fall of his chest ease into something more even. 

The two of you stay this way for a long time, staring up at each other, with half-lidded eyes worn from exhaustion without speaking, and you catalogue his face as it cycles through a series of micro-expression with each second that ticks by. 

If this was when you’d first known Marc, at first glance, each expression would have looked the same to you. But you know him well enough now that you can tell that the tiny pinch of his brow means something is troubling him. That the narrowing slant of his eyes means he can’t find the right words to express it. That him biting the inside of his cheeks means he’s hesitating on whether he would be offloading on you. Every detail says just as much as Steven’s openly variable animated expressions. 

His eyes blink in quick succession, and Marc takes a deep heaving breath as if bracing himself. Then he’s lifting himself up and away from you by his forearms, slipping out of you to a sharp pained hiss as you whine in response at how empty you feel at the loss. 

He rolls to the side of the bed next to you and settles there, and you feel a bit nervous about what’s going to happen next, because you don't know what is going to come.

“Is this still what you want?” Marc asks. 

He’s looking at you as he says it, but somehow you feel like he’s looking through you, eyes not quite meeting yours. His voice sounds impassive, and if you haven’t spent so much time with him by now, it could easily be mistaken for disinterest or even boredom, instead of the defence mechanism that you know it is. 

“Yes, of course, it is,” you say without hesitation.  

There’s no response from Marc, he’s lying so still next to you. So quiet you can’t even hear him breathing anymore. If it turned out that he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open you wouldn’t be surprised. 

You turn onto your side so that you can scoot even closer to him as you watch him. One sole stray curl is draped across his forehead, and it’s fallen into the line of his big gorgeous brown eyes. So ridiculously pretty, this one. 

Yeah. This is definitely what you want. Him.  Steven. Both. All of them. 

“You’re– okay with all this?” he asks hesitantly, and he looks genuinely puzzled as to why you would be. “With... what happened earlier too?” 

A breathless huff pushes its way up your chest. “I don’t know if ‘okay’ is the right word here, Marc. I’m not sure how to deal with the revelation that gods and monsters are real, and there’s a very high chance I’ll freak out about it tomorrow or next week. But…”

You press a kiss to the side of his cheek as you draw your eyes up and meet those rich expressive eyes of his. There’s no mistaking it, you feel it, in the same way that you do for Steven. Even if it’s different… there’s no doubt in you, haven’t been for a long time about this. 

“What I’m sure of is that I want to be with you. You and Steven. No matter what. I’m not going anywhere. I meant what I said. I want to be your person as well as his. And– and I hope you can be mine.”  

Marc tentatively draws his hand towards you, fingertips searching across the length of your arm until he finds your fingers and weaves them with his. 

The palm of his hand is warm and sturdy, sending a pleasant buzzing sensation across the back of your neck. It’s your favourite thing in the world, whenever Steven does this, and you’re pretty sure it’s going to be your shared favourite when Marc does it too. 

“Yeah”, he finally says after a long moment, “I’d like that.” His voice is soft and quiet, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies swoops your stomach at his warm tone filled with affection.  

Tilting your head upwards, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. It’s sweet and tender as his hand cups your cheeks protectively, like a promise that he’s not going to run anymore and it makes your toes curl into the sheet until you’re giddy.

You clutch at him, hands cupping the back of his neck and lace your fingers into those ridiculously soft curls of his. Marc shivers against you, and you smile like a loon as he ducks his head and buries his face into the crook of your neck contentedly, and exhale deeply. 

Who would have guessed that post-sex, the man would be the world's most grumpy cat turned soft and cuddly, asking to be petted. You comb through the matted locks and the blunt tip of his nose nuzzles into your damp skin. He makes a quiet, content little sound somewhere from the back of his throat like he doesn’t want you to stop and who are you to deny him? 

Your fingertips trail his scalp, from the nape of his neck to the crown of his head, when it occurs to you that you should probably be more careful with his head. 

He was flung several feet in the air and landed head-first into a concrete wall with a bone-cracking sound that still makes you sick to your stomach. You continue to card through his hair, mapping him out in search of any signs of injuries, but you can’t find any and your fingers still. 

It doesn’t make sense. You weren’t put through the ringer in any way near what Marc was tonight and you’ve still ended up with your fair share of scrapes and bruises. But there’s nothing on Marc. 

No swelling, no bumps. No wounds. 

On top of it all you’ve spent the better part of this evening, pulling and tearing at his hair. Your nails had been digging so deep into his shoulders you might as well have been excavating for gold and he hasn’t so much as hissed or flinched in pain even once. 

There’s a faint muffled sound of complaint from Marc as he lies on top of you. It’s so distorted that it takes you a few moments to appreciate that they’re words.

“What's wrong?” Marc asks. 

“You don’t have any injuries. You were hurt.” 

“I was wearing the suit,” he answers in his typical deadpan manner. No background information, no context, no painting out a scene for you. To Marc, the limited information he’s given you should make perfect sense to you. 

You grimace, and you’re just about to have a moan at him, when Marc seems to realise how confusing that explanation must be. He lifts his head from your neck as he continues. “Khonshu’s ceremonial armour. It protects me. Heals me when I need it.” 

An image of the swirl of bandages wrapping itself around Marc’s body to form an otherworldly magical suit plays out behind your mind, and you can’t resist teasing him. 

“So you transform like Sailor Moon and then fight evil at night?”

Marc lifts his eyebrow inquisitively, with a completely blank expression. “I don’t know what that is.” 

“Really? Sailor–” you sputter, shocked he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “Steven would know that reference.”

“Steven has too much free time,” he sighs, but the fondness hiding under his gruff tone is unmistakable. 

The playful jab at Steven brings a small smile to your face. The levity of it is a nice change of pace from the whirlwind of seismic events and paradigm shifts tonight, because there’s been a lot to take in. Much of which, you’re pretty sure you haven’t fully taken in… Don’t even know how to start to process it. 

Ancient Egyptian gods are real, and your boyfriend—(boyfriends? Just exactly how involved is Steven?)—is some kind of indentured fighter priest who battles invisible monsters—also real—for one of them. 

What is the correct reaction to a revelation like that? How does one even begin to mentally process that? 

“Any other questions? Now’s your chance,” Marc says. 

There is no hostility like before and this time you don’t have to drag it out of him with the persistence of a detective in an interrogation room interviewing a suspect as you ordinarily have to. 

You’re not entirely sure how you feel about that, except that you’re a little bit stunned and you realise that something has shifted between you and Marc. 

He’s… opening up to you. 

You look up at him, and he meets your eyes steadily. There are a million things you still want to ask: What’s the deal with his and Steven’s mum? What did he and Steven go through while they were away? How did he almost die, and how on bloody earth did he manage to just stumble upon an ancient Egyptian God to end up in his service?

Marc hasn’t moved from the spot as he observes you. Still seemingly expressionless, except… 

There’s a tension to the set of his shoulders, isn’t there? And he’s too still—even for Marc… It hits you all at once he’s holding his breath, the line of his lips set in a thin nerve-biting straight line.

He’s waiting for you.

Regardless of how hard Marc tries to hide it, trying to school his expressions, there’s only so much his body language can repress. The ring of his eyes is dilated and vulnerable. 

He’s nervous. 

Marc’s jaw tightens in anticipation and maybe something a little like fear, and it makes your chest ache with an overwhelming need to protect him. Those other questions can wait. You have all the time in the world together. Right now you want to make him feel as safe and cared for as you do. You want to make him smile. 

"So..." you begin, and you see him stiffen, watching as he braces himself like he’s expecting a blow. It’s how you know you’re making the right decision. "Do you actually like my coffee?"

His eyes widen and he sputters out "You– Your–" then barks out a laugh. 

Even in the dark, you can see it, a soft smile on his face that illuminates the darkness of the room with it. A gentle curve, as the dimple of his cheeks carve a deep dent into those hollowed cheeks, the soft crinkle of lines around his eyes. It’s like nothing you have ever seen before. It’s bright and uninhibited. An electrical socket has been plugged in and every nerve in you is flicked alight with excitement. 

It stuns you and takes your breath away, and for the longest moment, you forget about everything else. 

Because god, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

It takes you several seconds, maybe even a full minute to compose yourself enough to ask him again. 

"Well...?" you prompt, and you’re gifted with the pleasure of watching him try and fail to hide that perfect smile.

"It's… a little more complicated than that," he says, and you narrow your eyes at him, trying to look playfully peeved while tampering your own smile that’s twitching at your lips and failing.

"I like that you make it for me," he tries.

"That wasn't the question, though."

Marc shifts in the bed, scooting closer to you until he’s brushing up against your knees. That small but near-magical smile is still on his face. 

"Tell you what,” Marc murmurs, as he tightens his grip around you, pressing his forehead to yours, sweat-slicked curls tickling your nose. “Tomorrow, let's make it together." 

His voice is so assured, it feels like he’s promising you a certainty, and you trust him with every inch of you. 

A warmth spreads in your chest, and you can feel the dopey grin pulling at your lips until your cheeks almost hurt, but you can’t stop yourself and you don’t think you want to either. 

There is so much that is still unresolved, so many more things you need answers to, but it’s a good start and that’s good enough for tonight. After all, as Steven would tell you: you have all the time in the world.

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. 

When you wake, the morning light is filtering in through the large windows. The sun is blinding and makes it difficult to see anything at all. 

Reaching out your hand, the spot next to you is cold and empty, any residual heat long gone from the sheets. You’re alone in bed again. 

Marc has really got to stop fucking doing that. 

“Marc?” you call out, but there’s no response. You hesitate for a second before adding, “Steven?”

“Here.”

Then you hear familiar noises coming from the kitchen, and the tension in your chest melts away at the sound of porcelain clinking together. There are no folded clothes by your side, but to your surprise, your watch sits on the nightstand, cracked face turned up, waiting for you. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and your stomach warms at the sight. Marc must have gone back to retrieve it while you were asleep. 

You sit up on the bed, bending over to grab a discarded shirt from the floor as well as your knickers from last night, and pull them on, smiling to yourself as you start to make your way across the flat to join him in the kitchen. 

The familiar sweet, bread-like smell wafts out to greet you, and you falter.

Pancakes? That isn’t right. Today’s not Sunday. 

In the bright morning sun, you see him standing, with his back turned against you over the kitchen stove. Wearing only his jeans, bare from the waist above, the carved muscles of his back flexing as he flips the frying pan with a dramatic flair. Even before he speaks, you already know what’s happened.  

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets you. He's turning his head just enough to throw you a quick glance, and a one-sided crooked smile. 

You stop in your tracks. The cadence is alien, the smile off, but you recognize it immediately. 

Not Marc. Not Steven. But you have met this man before. 

That first night at Steven’s; the man you woke up to who looked at you like you were a stranger; the man who followed you to the lift to return your watch; the same man who towered over the invisible creature with nothing but cold contempt in his eyes as he snuffed out its time on earth with precision and brutality.

All this time, you thought that the first night you’d spent with Steven was also your first encounter with Marc. 

But Marc doesn’t call you sweetheart. Marc doesn’t flirt. Marc doesn’t smirk like he’s trying to imitate something he’s seen on the telly. 

This is detached and impersonal, like he’s not really smiling at all. When Marc smiles it’s snow thawing in the spring.

 It’s funny how you didn’t see it until now. Marc was never the wolf. 

You cross your arms against your chest, planting your feet firmly on the floor, standing up straight and tall as you confront the man before you. 

“You’re not Marc, and you’re not Steven,” you say and you shift on your legs, puffing out your chest in a display of put-on courage. “Don’t you think it's time you introduced yourself, seeing that you’re in my boyfriends’ flat?” 

The man huffs out a laugh, and his accent is different when he speaks again. A New York accent, you think, but almost cartoonishly so, like he’s watched one too many Martin Scorcese movies. It’s oozing out of every word as he speaks with a slow and nasal hum. 

“Nothing gets past you, does it, sweetheart?” 

He sets down the frying pan on the stove, turning it off before he wipes off his hand on a flower-patterned tea towel and extends it towards you, a polite invitation to shake. 

“Name’s Jake Lockley.”

You take a step towards him, and maybe you should be nervous—afraid of this stranger wearing your boyfriends’ face—but the panic and fear from that first night you met him is absent. That painful pounding in your chest is no longer there. 

You accept his hand, looking up into this man’s familiar eyes that are staring down at you in an entirely unfamiliar way. Not Steven’s wide and adoring gaze. Not Marc’s protective and gentle attention. No love resides in those eyes for you at this moment, just curiosity. 

But you’re not scared this time. 

Because come what may, you already know the most important part. Whatever happens next, whoever this Jake turns out to be, it’s not going to change your mind about Steven or Marc.

You’ll take them as they are. Red flags and all.

THE END.

Author's notes

This is the end. I wish I was more coherent to write a meaningful and heartwarming message about what this story has meant to me. How grateful I am to everyone reading it, but I do not think I have any words that can do it justice.

The only thing I can say is thank you. Thank you for reading this, whether you've read this from the first chapter, or whether you only read the first chapter or you've only read bits and pieces. Whether you've commented or liked or reblogged or simply just lurked-read, from the bottom of my heart thank you for giving this story your time, I'm really grateful to you all.

A big thank you to my friends who have listened to me whine and bitch and moan and generally emotionally terrorised them with this story, and especially thank you to my cowriter: thirstworldproblemss who has been put through the ringer with this story and suffered alongside with me. I love you the moooooooooooooooooooosetest

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

[starkeyisthelastname]

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im the conductor of the rafe has a sir kink train 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼 dealer!rafe has one too BTW🙈😁

thank you for this baby! 😚💖

Pornstar!Rafe definitely has a sir kink. There is no question about it, because this man thrives off of dominance. If he’s in a particular nasty mood, he’s not afraid to give you a firm slap on the cheek, forcing you to look at him as he pounds your poor hole out. “Whose fucking cunt is this?” He would spit at you, yanking your jaw to meet his gaze. You could barely get anything out, gasping as he shook you to get you to answer. When he was in this kind mood, you knew not to fuck with him. “Y-yours sir.” You mumbled, eyes rolling back as you started to come undone. He would chuckle, feeling you clench around him as he leaned down towards your ear, whispering. “Good whore.”

Dealer!Rafe is a little different. He has no shame in being called daddy, he loves it. It was something that not only he used when he fucked you, but in every day life as well. But… he did occasionally liked to be called sir. Especially in a more business like setting, or around his crew. He’d have some of his boys over, weed in the air as they banded up a bunch of cash. He didn’t always like you around when he did things that involved his dirty ways of making money, but something like this was alright. Especially when you looked so fucking pretty. He’d have you on his lap, sharing a blunt with you as your eyes surveyed the massive amounts of money. “This is for me to buy that pretty little white Lexus you want. You know that?” He’d whisper, high as hell. You felt your panties dampen at the fact all this money was for the expensive car you wanted. “No sir.” You whispered, a little in shock as the car you showed him was over 100,000. It was the hand that came up to your throat to squeeze, and the chuckle in your ear that made you whimper. “Shit… that’s right gorgeous. Keep calling me sir and I’m gonna make you say it while I drill your shit in.”

[leclercsainzz]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS PART 5

PAIRINGS: lando norris ex!gf / tom blyth x reader

TYPE: social media au

WARNING: // cheating implied

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

imessage

lando.jpg

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, pierregasly and 389,108 others

lando.jpg: 💗

view 3,762 comments

user: oooohhh??? ooohhh???

user: she better be worth the cheating bc????

user: bro didn’t even post her on his main 😭😭

user: still in denial, omg

user: @yourusername YOU BETTER GET WITH TOM, BABE

user: he’s finally freed from yn’s cheating ass 🥳

user: I WANT MOM BACK NOT HER

user: this the same man who texted yn that he misses her??

↳ user: the same one who said lu didn’t mean anything to him

↳ user: when??

↳ user: 🤷🏻‍♀️ yn posted a tweet but then deleted it

user: we all know he’s just using her to make yn jealous 🤣

luisinhaoliveira99: ❤️❤️❤️

↳ user: LMAOOO

user: he doesn’t even like her, i swear

hunterschafer: “she means nothing” 😂 @yourusername

comment has been deleted

user: i miss yn wtf 😭😭😭

user: THIS AINT FUNNY, GET BACK WITH YN

user: glad he’s moving on, he deserves better

↳ user: girllll, he “moved on” with the girl he cheated with

user: no more yn whoop whoop 🙌🏼

user: not him moving on to another cheater 😂

↳ user: they belong together

user: she probably cheating on him

↳ user: wouldn’t be surprised if they both cheat on each other

user: yn deserves better 🥺

user: my ynlando heart bro 😭😭

user: i hope she was worth it

user: time to cleanse my eyes 🤮

user: ooohhh nahhh

user: smiling as if she didn’t take someone else’s man 💀

↳ user: 😭😭 frrr lmaoo

user: home wrecker

user: at least miss cheater is out the picture 🤩

↳ user: LITERALLY! glad he got rid of her

user: i’m living for the drama

user: the audacity he has 😬

↳ user: the audacity THEY BOTH have

user: my girl yn can finally geT her man tom 🤪🤪🤪

user: @tomblyth @yourusername DATE NOW

user: he didn’t post her on his main LMAOOO

yourusername

liked by maxfewtrell, hunterschafer and 702,017 others

yourusername: previously on *yn’s* life 💘

tagged: @tomblyth @tchalamet

view 6,073 comments

tchalamet: i was wondering what the tag was for 🤣

↳ yourusername: fancy a peach???

↳ tchalamet: 🙄🙄🙄

user: NOT HER TAGGING TIMOTHEE ON THE PEACHES 😭

user: “gorgeous gorgeous girls get flowers” mELTING

user: tom blyth, THE man that you are 😮‍💨

tomblyth: gorgeous gorgeous girl 😍

tomblyth: you’re the epitome of of beauty

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 *besitos*

see translation: kisses

↳ user: that man is her biggest fan 😩😩

user: where do i get myself a man like tom??!?!?

user: this means they’re official right?!?!?????!????

joshandresrivera: who’s got you smiling like that? @tomblyth

hunterschafer: my two favorite people everrrr 😍

user: she’s gonna cheat on tom the way she did it to lando

user: i NEED me a man like tom blyth

user: i said it before a million times and i’ll say it again, she’s literally GLOWINGGGGGGG 😍😍😍✨

user: someone check on lando, please

user: the way he allowed her to place flowers on his hair

user: wait— are the dating???

user: she surely moved on faster than lando

↳ user: GIRL??? WHAT??? 💀

user: CHEATERRRRRRR

↳ user: ya’ll are so obsessed with her, i swear

user: at this point, idk who is luckier 😩 yn or tom

user: the way they have a “spot” 😭😭😭

user: cheated on her ex and got with her costar?? then acts like the victim?? real “classy” bitch

user: babe, you’re glowinggg ✨

user: i need to know what tom’s doing to make her glow

↳ user: she’s getting dicked down

↳ user: people glow differently when they are loved right and treated properly

↳ user: two different type of people ^^^^ 😂😂😂💀

user: moved on from lando real quick

↳ user: he’s the one who moved on quick, wdym???

user: the note 🥺🥺🥺

user: idk why tom and lando fighting over her, it’s not like she’s the queen or something

imessage

yourusername

liked by tomblyth, lewishamilton and 700,985 others

yourusername: ツ

view 5,841 comments

user: face card never declines, oohh god

user: tom’s text alsnslsmsmd

hunterschafer: you did me so dirty in that last post smh

↳ hunterschafer: i’ll let it pass cause you’re cute 😘

user: tHe text message from tom 😩

↳ user: he’s the reason my expectation in man are high atm

luisinhaoliveira99: oooh myyyy 😍

luisinhaoliveira99: beauty

↳ user: LMAOOOO what is she doing here??!?? 😭😭

↳ user: @landonorris come get your girl

↳ user: she’s obsessed just like lando

user: anyone else see lando’s new girl comment?!!? 💀

user: TOM’S BACK THO 😍😍😍😍

user: i see why lando is trying to crawl back in her life

carlossainz55: look at lenny, what a cutie!

lilymhe: HOT HOT HOT HOT 😮‍💨

tomblyth: the prettiest girl ever, i swear

tomblyth: can’t get enough of youuu 😍

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 i loveeeee youuuu

↳ user: i want what they have 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: so ig they’re official???

user: h0e 🙄

↳ user: that’s why lando dumped her ass 🤣

user: why is lando’s chick here???

user: slayyyyyyyyy

user: serving as always 😍

joshandresrivera: tom’s got the hottest back, no? 😏

↳ yourusername: 🙄🙄🙄🙄 OUT!

user: MOTHER

user: lando trying to win yn back is so real of him 😩

↳ user: frrrrr! he knows he lost the baddest bitch

user: the best lucy gray <33

user: tom’s back 😩😩

↳ user: on my knees for that man

user: ur boyfriend’s back is hot

user: 😍😍😍😍

user: his message omg sksnsmms

user: do you and tom need another dog?? does lenny need a sibling?!!?? not to brag or anything but i can BARK

user: did hunter dirty on that last post 🤣

user: SO TOM AND YN ARE OFFICIALLY TOGETHER?!?!

user: cheater 🤮

oscarpiastri: YN, HIIIII 👋🏼

user: gorggg 😍😍

zendaya: pretty girl 😍

user: tom’s text bro 😭😭 man is soo in love with her

user: the text from tom plus his comment 😩😩 MELTING 🫠

tomblyth

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, hunterschafer and 708,938 other

tomblyth: life lately

view 5,846 comments

user: he’s from district ATE

user: slide 4 and 8 are making me feeling things 😩

user: mom and dad 😍😍

user: anyone else noticed that luisinha liked???

↳ user: i thought i was the only one 🤣 like stalker much??

user: @yourusername babes, i NEED that t-shirt

joshandresrivera: @yourusername @tomblyth as you can see, lenny prefers me more than you both combined

↳ tomblyth: the only reasons being because you bribe him with treats??? hello??? 🤔

↳ yourusername: um??? not even close

↳ user: tom’s officially lenny’s new dad 😭😭 im so here for it

user: yn living her best life while lando continues on cheating

yourusername: are you entering your model era??

yourusername: look at you, woahhh 😍

↳ tomblyth: you could say i learned from the best;)

yourusername: sirrrr, you’re hot

↳ user: she’s so real for this 😩😩😩

yourusername: i love yaaaaaaa 💘💘💘

↳ tomblyth: right back at you, gorgeous! 💘

user: TOM, GO BACK TO THE BLONDE AND BUZZCUT

↳ yourusername: we need paneminem back

↳ user: YES WE DO! MAKE HIM GO BLONDE

hunterschafer: my loveesssss 😍

user: yn’s soo lucky bruh 😩😩 she gets him everyday

user: my favssss 🥰

user: best couple frrr ❤️❤️

user: meanwhile lando’s currently regretting leaving yn

user: the second slide 😭😭😭😭���� i love them

user: yntom nation rise! we did it!!!

user: not lando’s ex liking 💀

carlossainz55: tell yn to let me borrow lenny, please 🙏🏼

↳ yourusername: so you and charles can lose him again?

↳ charles_leclerc: it was one time 😭😭😭

↳ tomblyth: i personally don’t see why not 🤷🏻‍♂️

↳ charles_leclerc: thank you, tom

↳ carlossainz55: i take that as a yes then

user: my parents frrrr

user: i wonder how lando is feeling

thehungergames: our snowbaird 😍

oliviarodrigo: cuties!! ❤️

user: I MANIFESTED THIS SHIT

user: MOM AND DAD ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: someone check on lando

user: yn, respectfully, your man is FINE ASFFF 😮‍💨😮‍💨

user: my comfort cast <33

tchalamet: 🤩🤩🤩🤩

user: lenny’s got a new dad, awwww 🥰

↳ user: can’t wait for yn to post more lenny and tom content

user: them >>>>

user: they’re such a hot couple, idc 😩😩😩😩

user: ONE chance tom! ONE chance, please

user: 4th slide, ohhh god 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😍😮‍💨😍😮‍💨😮‍💨😩

user: them being each others biggest fan >>>

yourusername

liked by landonorris, luisinhaoliveira99 and 702,047 others

yourusername: my favorite person ever @tomblyth (ft lulu) 💘

view 5,856 comments

user: lulu????? you mean delulu??? babe, she took your man

user: my yntom heart 🥰🥰🥺🥺🥰❤️❤️

carlosainz55: 🤩🤩🤩

user: wait a min— is that luisinha??? 😳

user: 😭😭😭 yn, you’re better than this, omg

user: keep your friends close and your enemies closer

luisinhaoliveira99: you’re hot 😍

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 right back at you;)

luisinhaoliveira99: ❤️❤️

↳ user: when did this happen??!??!?

user: yn and lu both realized they deserved better than la***

↳ user: AS THEY SHOULD!!

user: not lando still lurking omg 😭😭😭😭😭

user: yntom is the superior ship ❤️❤️❤️

user: are we just gonna forget what “lulu” did to her??

↳ user: girl, maybe they talked things out??

↳ user: that bitch took her man, hello?????

↳ user: lando played both of them wdym?

user: yn and luisinha??

user: get you a man who always gets you bouquets of roses

user: literally my favs 🥰🥰🥰❤️

user: lenny!!! 🥺🥺🥺

tomblyth: you’re pretty cute

tomblyth: ❤️❤️❤️❤️ love you, princess

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 love youuuu tooooo

user: lando really fumbled, huh??

↳ user: can you stop bringing that cheater back up

user: she’s so much happier now 🥺🥺🥺

user: lando fumbled two bad bitches

user: yn is such a girls girls bc i wouldn’t forgive her that easily

user: get back with lando 😔

hunterschafer: ❤️❤️

user: two bad bitches 😍😍😍

user: ONE MANS LOST IS ANOTHER MANS GAIN

user: lando lost not one but two hot girls

user: lando??? 😭😭😭 where he at???

user: they’re so cute together ❤️❤️❤️ #yntomnationrise

user: tom’s eyes, bro 😩😩

↳ yourusername: ikr??? i get lost in them all the times

user: sooo no lando??? @yourusername @luisinhaoliveira99

↳ yourusername: does that ring a bell? @luisinhaoliveira99

↳ luisinhaoliveira99: sorry who??? @yourusername

↳ user: QUEEN BEHAVIOR

↳ user: lando’s crying rn

user: parents 🥺🥺🥺❤️

user: anyone else see lando’s like?? he’s pressed

user: at least she got her happy ending 🥰🥰

oscarpiastri: cute

↳ user: oscar, lando ain’t gonna like this

user: yntom endgame? ABSOLUTELY ❤️❤️

user: mom and dad

user: lando liked 🤣🤣🤣

taglist:

@tomblyth-tsunoda @love4josh @dudde-44 @coconut-dreamz @newlifeforus @loxbbg @dakotali @f1footballluvverr @mountmaason19 @poppyflower-22 @magical-spit @nazm145 @nikolaros22 @sincerlymatakorama @36babyg @bucket-of-fanfiction @gyunheat @millyswife @onlyrealjoy @ocyeanicc @sarah-thatstings-ann @ushygushybaby @shrimpybbq @reyfolks @earth-to-lottie @smugrogerina @jenniferrvsesi @aleidag1rly @charlesswife @sheluvsf1 @omgsuperstarg @krispy-r @lwritesstuff @eutrizbea

[stylespresleyhearted]

POV: YOU’RE DATING CALLUM TURNER

pt. ✌🏻

liked by fan23, user12, and 1923 others

cturnerupdates Cal & Y/N spotted at a cafe in Paris today - March 23, 2024

view all comments

fan12 I SHIP IT BUT IM JEALOUS

y/nfan two lovers in the city of love 🥹 fitting ♥️

user23 I’m calling it now these two are gonna be it for each other. They’re end game.

yourinstagram that’s the goal🥹

liked by yourinstagram, austinbutler and 15,713 others

keoghan92 Context: Cal taking his bird away because we were apparently “pissed ” 🙄

Photo credit - me 🫡

view all comments

anthonyboyle baftas are always a fun night eh?

yourinstagram he saved your ass, i had you!!!

keoghan92 love I’ll out drink you any day

yourinstagram tbh we weren’t even that drunk

rafflaw you were crying cus you “lost” your boyfriend but he was holding your hand the entire time and barry thought the stalls were narnia entry

keoghan92 that’s a solid night mate

fan23 damn y/n looks good

yourinstagram tits out & every thang 🤗

keoghan92 Oi her heads big enough

liked by enews, yourfriendsig, and 5,391 others

yourinstagram trying to enjoy my lunch but this weird (cute) guy won’t stop bothering me (i love him)

view all comments

user12 i need to know what its like to be her

fan23 callum is so down bad for her #relatable

fan21 what did she cover up 👀

yourinstagram lol just cal being cheeky

liked by anthonyboyle and 7183 others

yourinstagram hi handsome ♥️

view all comments

fan23 THE WAY HE’S LOOKING AT HER 🙌🏼😭😭

user68 i wonder if he’s aware how many photos she takes of him and she posts them all its weird

yourfriendsig lmao trust he’s aware & he’s obsessed when it comes to y/n

fan21 ppl see shit on the internet & think they know everything ugh 😑

yourinstagram guys let’s all be nice and enjoy looking at my beautiful boyfriend! 😍

liked by yourinstagram and 38175 others

jimmyfallonshow Tune in tonight 10/11 CT to witness Callum Turner swoon over ‘amazing’ girlfriend 💕 ….

When asked if he’s aware how iconic she’s become on social media he said he’s well aware and he isn’t at all surprised before divulging to Jimmy “she’s the one.” 💍 👀

view all comment

user23 After watching the interview I’m 100% convinced he’s the golden retriever and she’s the black cat. Y/N loves him but gosh … the way he was talking about her and looking at her?

fan13 IMA CRY ITS NOT LETTING ME WATCH SOMEONE SHARE

y/nupdates It starts with Callum sharing a joke and Jimmy didn’t laugh but Y/N did from the crowd 😂 Callum recognized her laugh and said “thanks baby” and then that’s when Jimmy asked about her IG fame. Callum said “she’s the one man - we aren’t worried about that.” When Jimmy asked how they deal with the attention.

user12 starting to wonder if they’re secretly married/engaged

fan31 Nah and I think it’s beautiful even though they’re aware they are it for each other she’s willing to wait and support him as he enters a new kind of fame

liked by user23, fan12, and 71942 others

yourinstagram Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy - 🥵

view all comments

callumfan Y/N PLSSSSSS I CANNNOOOTTT

user41 girllll yes !!!!

fan53 can i please be you???

user91 ur man is so daddy he’s fire

user33 Y/N and Callum daddy kink confirmed

keoghan92 That’s what we called him on set

yourinstagram back off my man barry

rafflaw … we really did though

liked by austinbutler, yourinstagram, and 58194 others

drewbarrymoreshow Hilarious, gorgeous, and kind — yes these guys, but I was referring to the star of tonight’s show Callum Turner’s girlfriend. Her Instagram page is one of my favorite’s, tune in to watch me fan girl over three stars tonight.

view all comments

yourinstagram unreal !! i adore you !!❤️❤️

drewbarrymoreshow Text me for our date night 🤗

fan23 everyone loves y/n it’s beautiful to see someone being praised when they’re authentically themselves

user12 shoulda interviewed her too

drewbarrymooreshow 🌚

liked by austinbutler, camilamorrone, and 43817 others

yourinstagram Y/N by me (Cal) 💍♥️😍

view all comments

fan31 HIS EMOJI USE?!?? rip me

user12 im gonna cry she’s so smol he’s so tol

fan23 Cal make your own page!!! We know it’ll just be Y/N and we’re okay with it!!! It’s what we want tbh !!!

keoghan92 “why the fuck are you taking a photo” is what she was mid saying

user25 omg he probably crushes her she’s tiny it’s great

liked by zendaya, austinbutler, and 65189 others

yourinstagram 🥹

view all comments

fan23 ugh the height difference kills me

user12 they’re so in love it makes me happy

fan33 I believe in love because of them tbh

fan67 idk how he hasn’t popped the question yet

liked by fan21, user33, and 19278 others

cturnerupdates Callum spotted with Y/N and his mother in London back in Feb for his birthday. The group had a picnic at the park and Callum’s mother even braided her hair — Feb 19, 2024

view all comments

user13 ohhhh he’s gonna be a girl dad fs

fan54 she’s got the momma’s stamp approval it’s gonna happen

user23 what i wouldn’t give to be his gf and have a picnic w him at the park and have his mom braid my hair

fan56 Is anyone gonna talk about how he’s looking at her? 🥹🥹😍 Definition of heart eyes

————

I’m so down bad for this man so I really couldn’t resist making another one. He’s handsome and charming and manly and ughhhhh kill me!

P.S slight FC use of Olivia Dejonge. Not only is she gorgeous but she’s so smol and I find it so beautiful, especially with how large he is. Needed that picture for a specific use to help identify the size difference between the two but feel free to keep imagining whoever. He’s dated Vanessa Kirby and Dua Lipa so the hair color constantly changes in pics 😭

Don’t have a tag list but thanks to everyone for all the love, hope ya’ll enjoy this one as well 💕

[chukys-mouthguard]

jamie.drysdale

liked by daily.y/n, trevorzegras, cam.york and 10,395 others

jamie.drysdale spicy summertime 🌶️

tagged: daily.y/n

view all comments

daily.y/n summer just officially got hotter 🥵

-> jamie.drysdale from the second you stepped foot on that boat 😮‍💨

liked by daily.y/n

user2956 why are they so hot?

-> user1085 like for real…it’s not fair

trevorzegras damn daily.y/n has really gotten you into shape huh boy? 👀

-> jamie.drysdale two a days have been helping 😏

-> daily.y/n lots of cardio! 🤪

cam.york so can she come be my personal trainer? 😳

-> jamie.drysdale you are wild lmao

-> daily.y/n sorry cam.york, I’m not accepting new clients lol

user6899 i love that all of Jamie’s friends are drooling over daily.y/n too 😂

-> jamie.drysdale they can look but they can’t touch! 🤨

liked by daily.y/n

_alexturcotte now i know why the boat was “preoccupied” and couldn’t be used for a boys day 🙄

-> jamie.drysdale we can take it out tomorrow!

-> cam.york you better deep clean that thing first 👀

liked by _alexturcotte and trevorzegras

-> jamie.drysdale you better watch your mouth cam.york 😂

daily.y/n

liked by trevorzegras, cam.york, _alexturcotte, and 9,387 others

daily.y/n thank you summer for giving me my bf back 🫶🏼

tagged: jamie.drysdale

view all comments

jamie.drysdale is it hot out, or is it just my gf? 🥵😮‍💨

-> daily.y/n i think that’s your sunburn talkin’ babes lol

-> trevorzegras i think cali misses you both, come back? 🥺

-> jamie.drysdale not a chance, she’s a little busy 😏

user8395 holy hell she’s gorgeous

-> user2959 more like smoking hot!

-> user2045 jamie is so lucky 😩

liked by jamie.drysdale

cam.york damn, now i know why jamie.drysdale never brought you around 😅

-> jamie.drysdale definitely not letting you fools anywhere near her haha

-> cam.york we’ll see what daily.y/n has to say about that 😜

-> daily.y/n only in your dreams cam.york 😉

liked by jamie.drysdale

user2945 okay but drop the workout and diet routine becauseeee 🤯

_alexturcotte make sure you share your boy a little bit 🤪

-> daily.y/n text me to set up a play date 😂

-> jamie.drysdale have ur mom call my mom and maybe you can sleep over! _alexturcotte

user2046 okay but they are both actually stunning, like the IT couple 🙌🏼

liked by daily.y/n and jamie.drysdale

[trentlife]

WILD ADVENTURE

part 1

masterlist

instagram au ~ jude bellingham

authors note: mini series of jude and y/n becoming parents for the first time! ive had this requested a lot since my last au, i hope you all enjoy 💕

liked by mollymae, trentarnold66 and 1,859,294 others

yourusername 🫶🏼 ☁️ 🥀 ...

view comments

realmadrid congratulations 👶🏼❤️

vinijr ❤️❤️

trentarnold66 this is why you couldn't hang out a few months ago

↳ madders no need to expose him like that

mollymae going to be the best mummy 🫶🏼

reece big love 🫶🏽👶🏽

kyliejenner 🥹🥹🥹🥹

yourmum 😍❤️💞🩵

gioreyna my bro becoming a dad 🥳

shaliimaar parabéns 💕🩵

jackgrealish congratulations bro ❤️

yourbsf cant wait to meet my nephew / niece 🫶🏼

yourusername

liked by jadethirwall, judebellingham and 586,924 others

yourusername here there everywhere 💗 📖 🥑

view comments

user284 she's so vibesss

jadethirwall oh this is vibelicious

juliavigas gorgeous!

hattiebourn I love this! 🫶🏼

user173 i think it's a boy

↳ user396 me too

kennedyalexa mummy club 🩷💅🏼🤪

minabonino beautiful 💗🩵

user597 adorable

mikkykiemeney i love this 🥹 cannot wait to see your buba 🫶🏼

↳ yourusername twins! yours too babe😭👶🏼👶🏽💘

mykonos, greece

liked by yourusername, erling.haaland and 2,693,596 others

judebellingham recharging ☀️ 👩🏽‍❤️‍👨🏽 🇬🇷

view comments

user148 their relationship is so perfect

yourusername my baby daddy 😍

↳ judebellingham forever

↳ jobebellingham chillllllll

↳ user496 lmaooo jobe

denbello my favourites ❤️❤️❤️

user285 the last picture 🥹

aaronramsdale yesirrrrr

tobybishay all love 🫶🏼❤️

user973 that should be me and jude

bukayosaka87 greece boyaaa😍

user496 i hope y/n knows how lucky she is for this man to be her boyfriend

↳ yourusername honey i know x

↳ user173 ~ yourusername LOL

yourusername

liked by kendaljenner, paigemilian and 1,394,938 others

yourusername doing life with each other forever ♾️

view comments

loredana adorable, missing you both 🥰

↳ yourusername miss you so much angel 🖤

user186 the flowers! is it a girl?

user475 hand placement

anouskasantos dreamy💘

trentarnold66 ask jude we're my flowers are

↳ yourusername note passed on!

↳ user496 trentarnold66 😭🤣🤣🤣

mayajama you two 🥹😘

szoboszlaidominik 😎

user697 the flowersssss are perfect

liked by jordanhenderson, sunny_kg and 2,183,284 others

judebellingham water babies

view comments

jordanhenderson 😂😂❤️

sunny_kg can't wait to see you both 🫶🏽

user183 come to barca

↳ user569 💀

declanrice no way you needed support for your back bro 🤣

↳ judebellingham the bump is her cheat code!

user742 azra crying rn

marcusrashford i thought you can't swim

yourusername look at you cheating

user853 i need to know the gender!!!!!

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, shyla and 823,222 others

yourinstagram home time, getting ready for an exciting day 🛩️ 🍒 🥝 🫐

view comments

britneydevilliers 😍💘🫶🏼

↳ yourusername my fave girl💕

sasha__rebecca vibes 🧳🩶

madisonbeer 🥹

minabonino linda mamãe 🤰🏼

↳ user697 fave wags

yourmum cant wait to see you sweetheart 😘

↳ yourusername ly mom <3333

user196 PJ life

user963 omg what day...

↳ 💭

daphnecanizres 😍

yourusername and judebellingham

liked by trentarnold66, rodrygogoes and 3,283,567 others

yourusername we can't wait to meet you son 🩵

view comments

trentarnold66 project jude coming soon, congrats bro ❤️

arianagrande congratulations beautiful girl🥹

user029 i knew it!!!! 🩵🩵🩵

england congrats to you both ❤️

denbello my little boy having a little boy ❤️

rodrygogoes congratulations hermano!

jobebellingham my little nephew 🩵

user183 ahhhhh

camavinga 😍💙

↳ user193 cama oh cama oh

harrykane 🙌🏼

kyliejenner congrats!!

yourbsf can't wait to meet my nephew 🩶

toniruediger congratulations you guys 🫶🏽

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

like & repost to show support!

hope you all enjoyed part one, stay tuned for part two!

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : INSTAGRAM AU

Liked by urbanwyatt, cozane, yourbestiename, claybornharlow, and 6,865,397 others

jackharlow Boston, we’re inside you tonight, or are you inside of us? Or am I inside of her?

View all 1,300 comments

yourusername 🤦🏻‍♀️ You could’ve warned me

jackharlow You look gorgeous 😘

urbanwyatt oh hi

druski WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

jackharlow around 😗

yourbestiename You guys can’t disappear and come back like nothing.

yourusername 😅

claybornharlow Caption 💀

jackharlow What about it? I’m asking important questions

mamamaggie You play too much

jackharlow 😗 never enough

•

Liked by jackharlow, yourbestiename, badbunnypr, nellyfurtado, paulwallbaby, and 6,876,356 others

yourusername ✨ Did you miss us? ✨ Photoshoot for something exciting 👀

View all 1,200 comments

yourbestiename YES YES WE DID.

yourusername Not you acting like you don’t see me 24/7 😂

yourbestiename 🙄 not enough. Not when I can’t send you videos or memes because you’re on a off social media cleanse.

yourusername 😂

jackharlow 🔥 🔥 They wish they could be us

urbanwyatt Calm down now

urbanwyatt Also thanks for the pic credit y/n

yourusername Oops 🙊 my bad

•

Liked by jackharlowiswhite, jharlowupdates, allabouttheharlows, and 7,876,355 others

jackharlowsource Jack vía stories

view all 1,200 comments

user that’s ez? 🤯

user little man isn’t so little anymore

user ok now have baby number 3 🤷🏻‍♀️

•

Liked by jackharlow, mamamaggie, claybornharlow, urbanwyatt, and 7,866,456 others

yourusername He caved in you guys 😅 he got miss Mia a puppy 🐶 😱

View all 1,200 comments

mamamaggie About time 🙌🏼

yourusername Now I have 4 kids to look out for 😅

jackharlow 4?

user Y’all got a 3rd baby when you guys did your social media hiatus?

yourusername No, Jack is considered a child, for how childish he acts.

jackharlow WAIT A DAMN MINUTE WOMAN

claybornharlow Exhibit A 😂

•

Liked by urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, cozane, pesopluma, yourbestiename, and 3,976,456 others

yourusername and jackharlow Going on tour together? Yeah we never imagined that, but here we goooo, y’all ready?????

View all 5,300 comments

urbanwyatt 🔥

yourbestiename GOALS ASF 🙌🏼

claybornharlow parents 🤎

neelamthadhani This should be fun

djdrama Let’s get it 🔥 💣

pesopluma 🤯

badbunnypr Los durosssss

mamamaggie Proud of my babies ❤️

user Mia and Ez parents are cool 😎

jackharlow Yes they are 😜

•

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree @toocriticalharlow @thefemalestorywriter @lightsoutstyles @violetslays818 @fantasywritersstuff @vanwritesfan-fiction

[firsttarotreader]

Oh my god he looks gorgeous in that video he posted 😍

This is seriously the best photoshoot of him in YEARS. And I mean it.

He doesn’t look like he’s 67 and hasn’t slept in days, he is effortlessly classy, so elegant, he is dressed perfectly (FINALLY, JULIE!! Praise the Lord! 🙌🏼), just perfection!

[chainedupgirlsblog]

✎ Commentary of Ep 6 ~ The Loyal Pin (Thai GL-2024) - Part 1

This episode’s summary according to Prik:

Yeah... Pretty much this episode was full of (squeaking sound) and Princesses rolling in bed like lovesick teenagers. I mean, look at Anin’s face. She did it! She won lesbianism and achieved the impossible, got her woman.

Congratulations, Princess! You’re one step ahead of all of us 😭👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

This is gonna be a long one again. I’d recommend get comfortable as I catch up!

We start right where we left off and Oh. My. God. They’re the cutest, softest, hottest, i can’t even explain how much I loved this scene. It’s just so 🤌🏼

First they’re kissing, nonstop and all of a sudden Pin stops and pull away softly—out of breath. Anil asks what’s wrong (in the softest tone of voice, mind you) and Pin says she couldn’t breathe.

Like, girl. Anil. Chill~ 🥴

Anil giggles as you can see in the picture above and does, and says the craziest thing. First she kiss Pin on the forehead calling her adorable (how dare she!) and THEN SHE SAYS: I promise I’ll be very gentle…

Girrlll. I told you to chill!!

She’s insane. That was just the beginning and I was dying already!

Then they go on with the kisses (the damn kisses. That we here loud and clear)

Anil doesn’t waste any time and as she devours Pin she starts undressing her. The way she does it tho (I’m hyperventilating) she slides that tiny little strip off her shoulder in such a gracious way I felt like she was undressing me. Got shy and all. HELP.

And Pin just lets her, she lets her do whatever the princess wants and oh, she’s starving. She’s been starving for years!

Anyway, Anil continues now kissing down Pin’s neck and can i take a moment to appreciate how beautiful Freen’s hair just flows on her back like waterfall??? ART. God, she’s gorgeous!

Then we have Anil going lower and lower and I’m losing it a bit more and more. Wondering how far the Princess’ knowledge will take us…

She lays Pin down, very softly very gently just as she said she will!

And well, what can I say. I’m impressed on how vast Anil’s knowledge is! The boarding school has clearly teach her some important things! Such a great investment for the crown and the government ig (I’m not sure how Thai royalty worked back then)

The way Anil look at Pin throughout the entire scene?? The way Pin holds onto her neck as she smiles all bliss-out?? Losing my goddamn mind.

Then we got the morning after 🙌🏼

And aren’t they cute?

They’re extremely cute I CANT 😭😭😭

The way Anil asks for a kiss and Pin immediately give it to her aghjskfkf

Then we have this sequence of Pin’s memories if I’m not mistaken and it’s the cutest thing ever. They’re too cute for my well being. Honestly 😭

Anil’s dimples (Becky’s) are the most adorable thing ever. Pin is so right for wanting to kiss them and pinch them and eat-

Anil, instead, she doesn’t only want to kiss Pin on the cheek. Nope. She wants to devour her. Are we even surprised? She just did that the previous night…

They’re so soft. I love the way they look at each other. The way they smile at each other. Bumping the other’s nose? Pecking the other and kissing her hand? Got me giggling and shit 😔

And finally resting her head on her chest once again. Just kill me please.

I can’t bare this suffering that is being single and lonely anymore 😭😭😭

Anil holding the back of Pin’s head the entire time. PLEASEEEE

Then we go on with the day and they miss each other as the clingy pair that they are. Anil misses Pin so much she goes and help her with her chores. If that’s not true love I don’t know what it is 😅

They have a cute little moment under the freshly washed sheets and omg they’re so in love!

Once they’re done with the chores (I think) they go on a cute little date, holding hands and sharing food. I’m not sure if this montage is real or their imagination but it’s cute.

Everything in this episode it’s just fucking cute, at least till the two first parts.

.

.

.

.

I know I’m yapping too much but can’t help it. it’s not favorite moments anymore but a commentary. lol. Here’s Part 2

[bloodhoundluke]

ready for those flashing lights

pairing: luke hemmings x model!gf (fc: alexa demie)

description: luke is dating a model and they attend milan fashion week together.

a/n: hello there beautiful people, hope you all are well and healthy 💚 let me know if ig stories work as well or if i should just include regular ig posts in these! if u have any face claim or storyline suggestions for the next instagram blurb please tell me 🥰🌼

GIFS ARE NOT MINE. credit for luke's gif @kaleidoscopeminds. & credit for alexa's gif @yourlilbrunette

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, sabrinacarpenter and 309,122 others

yourinstagram TOMORROW: milan fashion week 👠🦋💗

View all 490 comments

calumhood Great camera quality

yourinstagram yeah @lukehemmings your phone sucks

lukehemmings Ok I'll buy a new one 🫠

y/nbutterflies We are not ready for your outfits holy shit

loverofy/n Everyone should be scared of how much you'll slay tomorrow 👑

sabrinacarpenter queeeeen 💛

yourinstagram via instagram story

5sosupdates

Liked by yourinstagram, lukehemmings and 9,853 others

5sosupdates Luke and Y/N spotted this morning in Milan.

View all 109 comments

sd y/n's smile 😭😭 luke's 🤘🏻 😭😭😭

lukehemmings Was lovely to meet you guys!

yourinstagram and 36 others liked this comment

hemmingscinema OMG CONGRATS!!

bestofy/s/n so happy for you!!! 💖

lukehemmings via instagram story

yourinstagram via instagram story

dolcegabbana

Liked by yourinstagram, lukehemmings and 25,493 others

dolcegabbana The power couple Luke Hemmings and Y/N Y/L/N wearing #DolceGabbana for the Milan fashion week as their second looks.

View all 195 comments

naomiwatts Elegant

ashleygraham wow 😍

lukehemmings 🖤

yourinstagram I love these looks 💖💖

lukehemmings

Liked by yourinstagram, michaelclifford and 378,607 others

lukehemmings Hi Milan 🖤

View all 429 comments

yourinstagram i'm your biggest fan

lukehemmings Ok let's calm down, shall we?

heyluke THE FASHION ICON. THE MODEL. THE LEGEND. LUKE HEMMINGS.

completelukemess the KING of fashion 🙌🏼

5sosupdates

Liked by lukehemmings, yourinstagram and 10,293 others

5sosupdates Clips of Luke and Y/N in Dolce & Gabbana's official Fashion week video on Youtube.

y/s/npics the hottest couple of our century

y/nlookssoperfect i am in love with y/n 😞

lukehemmings You and me both

y/nlookssoperfect OMG HI LUKEEE

lucashemmo Luke I'mma steal ur wife 🥵

lukehemmings No

y/s/nfan i can't deal with him 🤣🥹

yourinstagram via instagram story

lukehemmings

Liked by yourinstagram, michaelclifford and 390,445 others

lukehemmings This is me pretending to know everything there's to know about fashion.

View all 395 comments

yourinstagram 🥹🥵🦋❤️‍🩹

lukehemmings 🥹🥰

annawintour A splendid suit!

iblamejordan Maybe Y/N taught you a thing or two?

lukehemmings Yep, she's a smart 🍪

iknowitwelly/n Lucas Hemmings THE Anna Wintour commented OMG

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, sabrinacarpenter and 376,964 others

yourinstagram livin' my princess fantasies this weekend👗

View all 321 comments

lukehemmings My princess wifey 🥰

yourinstagram i'm yours 💞

noshamelrh I FEEL SICK WHY ARE YOU TWO SO CUTE

crystalleigh you are too gorgeous for this world 🤍

yourinstagram crys stopp ☹️❤️‍🩹

yourinstagram and lukehemmings

Liked by crystalleigh, dolcegabbana and 410,193 others

yourinstagram THIS WEEKEND: suits, dresses, delicious food & great company. thanks for having us milan 🥂👗❤️

View all 354 comments

lukehemmings 🙌🏼🖤

iseey/s/n imagine the genes their babies would have 🥲🥲

yourinstagram they could be kinda cute 👀

lukehemmings 👀🥰

angelbabyluke i am sobbing over this

yourinstagram via instagram story

© 2023 bloodhoundluke.

[hughesnation]

𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐮 // 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

High school Graduation (Hughes sister)

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

Liked by 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬, _𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 and 𝟐𝟏,𝟒𝟑𝟖 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 2022 High School Grad Baby 💫

𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 🤟🏼🔥😎😝

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 i wish you would comment normal things on my posts Jack

𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 never gonna happen 😝

_𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 So proud of you ♥️

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 thanks quinny 🥹

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐳𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬 Go little Hughes 💪🏼

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 i wish i could smack you ❤️

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞 BELLA 😼

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 meow

𝐥𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬_𝟎𝟔 Bells 🙌🏼

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 LUKEY 😻

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞 🤟🏼

𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝟔 My Gorgeous daughter ❤️

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 MOM 🥹

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 22 🔥

𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 IDK ABOUT YOU

[sunshineandlyrics]

🥰 Oh Gorgeous One 🙌🏼

Bigger Than Me, Morrina Festival, 26 July 2024.

[readytoplaygod]

do you have a thing for fat dudes?

I mean yeah, fat guys are gorgeous 🙌🏼

[stylespresleyhearted]

THIS JUST IN: CALLUM TURNER SOON TO BE DAD

masterlist can be found here

liked by anthonyboyle and 53819 others

yourinstagram strollin’ London w my London boy

view all comments

fan12 am i gonna have to be the one to say it … she’s pregnant

fan23 i agree she’s only been seen in callum’s clothes of oversized jackets it’s diff from her usual style

user13 deuxmoi said on her podcast that a trusted source confirmed she’s pregnant. I believe it you can see a hint of the belly here.

user23 1) we’re in 2024 how about we stop speculating women are pregnant every time their bodies change and 2) if they are pregnant Callum will share when he’s ready respect their privacy

fan49 PLEASE Callum she ain’t going anywhere why you gripping so tight 😭😭

liked by user12, fan13, and 94817 others

tmz BREAKING NEWS: After months of speculation TMZ is finally able to confirm, Callum Turner and his girlfriend are expecting. Turner’s leading lady was photographer exiting his Los Angeles home. More pics and video in link in bio.

view all comments

user23 the violation of privacy is INSANE! Callum and Y/N I’m so sorry.

fan41 DM SAID IT!!! Congrats to the lovely couple!

user02 They were probably trying to enjoy it between the two of them but TMZ sat outside their home to snap photos. Callum’s already so private now he’s going to give us NOTHING i hope ya’ll nosy people happy

user78 callum been daddy iktr 🙌🏼

liked by austinbutler, keoghan92, and 73195 others

yourinstagram When we found out I was pregnant we were so overjoyed we felt like our hearts could burst. It was something we were keeping sacred between our friends and family now that has been taken from us.

Mumma and Daddy can’t wait to meet you, baby. We promise to always protect and put you first. Thank you everyone for all the love and we ask that you respect our privacy during this time. - Cal & Y/N

comments have been limited

rafflaw His hand is always on the belly! Congrats man!

keoghan92 Let me and Brando know when you’re free for a playdate ♥️ children are the most precious things, much love

austinbutler Congratulations, love you guys.

lillyjames The media is horrid. So much love to your little family <3

camillerow Can’t wait to spoil them rotten

liked by user13, fan12, and 23916 others

dailymail Despite how news of his impending fatherhood broke, Callum Turner was all smiles on the Masters of the Air set as he received hugs and congratulations from the cast and crew.

view all comments

user13 He is overjoyed he is going to be the best Dad

fan12 it feels so good to see him so happy 😭

user93 do ya’ll think Barry and him crack Dad jokes on the set? LMAO

fan21 Sending him and his family all the love as they celebrate these fantastic news ❤️❤️

liked by user93 and 410 others

callumupdates Y/N spotted looking a bit sick at the market yesterday. Hope she is doing okay 🥺

view all comments

user21 she looks insanely gorgeous wdym sick

callumupdates she’s always gorgeous but you can’t deny she looks tired and pale i’m worried the attention could be getting to her i hope callum is taking good care of her and their baby.

fan12 She’s pregnant, leave her alone.

fan13 Some women get overly tired/sick while pregnant. It’s a big change for the body. We should do what they asked and respect their privacy during this time. Why would a pap be following her around in her state?

user09 i’m really worried guys

yourinstagram Guys, I promise I’m fine and Callum is the best support system I could have ever possibly asked for 💘 Some women thrive during pregnancy but it’s kicking my ass and having someone follow me around snapping pics when I don’t feel my best doesn’t help, however I’m still so so happy to be carrying our precious gift. Thank you all for the love and support.

liked by user10 and 911 others

callumfan HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO SAY IT? Callum and Y/N already asked for privacy and Y/N has already stated she doesn’t feel her best/isn’t comfortable having people take pictures of her right now! Why is that so hard to respect?

view all comments

user19 this picture is heartbreaking. he’s glaring at the camera and it looks like she’s sinking into him trying to hide.

user11 she looks so tired and sad it sucks

fan13 don’t want no one complaining about callum being private because this right here is why he doesn’t share with us

liked by fan12 and 976 others

callumupdates Callum was not happy when he stopped for fans and they approached Y/N after he explicitly told them not to. She was in one of his sweaters and beanies and looked like she was trying to hide, according to a fan there. Callum stepped in and told the fans to step away from Y/N before the couple walked away.

view all comments

user23 Y/N is acting like she’s the first person to get pregnant she’s dramatic

fan13 she has stated she is happy to be carrying their child but the pregnancy is taking a toll on her body and mind which is why she’s always hiding/ looks tired. Not everyone has amazing pregnancies

keoghan92 It’s already annoying as is when you’re feeling like shit and people shove cameras in your face. Can’t imagine having to deal with it while also being pregnant. Cheers Y/N, may everyone start giving you the respect you deserve

liked by fan23 and 671 others

callumupdates New photo of Callum consoling Y/N last night after the restaurant they were at was swarmed - March 28

view all comments

fan23 he’s gonna pop off on someone and at this point he has every right

user12 I love them so much it hurts to see her he so sad!

fan19 alright who do I have to fight?

user10 there’s nothing Callum wouldn’t do for her 🥹

liked by austinbutler, oliviadejonge, and 416491 others

yourinstagram Little munchkin is wearing momma out 🫶🏻 Thank you to everyone for the concern, as I stated before it’s been a huge change for my body to adjust but I have never been happier. Callum, I love you and our baby to the moon and back forever. ♾️

view all comments

kaiagerber you’re unreal

lillyjames I know Mr. Turner is taking great care of you 😌

yourinstagram He’s the best and possibly more nervous/excited than me haha

yourfriendsinstagram LOVE YOU PEOPLE ♥️

anthonyboyle if I buy the pregnancy stimulator can we put it on these assholes saying shit online? You’re great Y/N!

yourinstagram LOL STOP IT!

liked by austinbutler, yourinstagram, and 98111 others

rafflaw Catch us outside if you wanna talk about @yourinstagram 👊🏻👊🏻👊🏻

view all comments

yourinstagram YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY 😂🫶🏻

keoghan92 where am I at? I’m leading the cause

anthonyboyle photoshop us in right now

tomhanks I want a piece of this too.

liked by yourinstagram and 918655 others

callumupdates Y/N and Callum on their babymoon in Cabo. Friends and family in attendance are: their mothers, Barry Keoghan, Sabrina Carpenter, Austin Butler and his girlfriend, Lilly James, Sophie Turner, Daisy Lowe, and Nick Grimshaw.

view all comments

fan19 they are so loved 🥰 as they should be tbh

user23 I’m so happy they have a strong support system

fan24 it feels so good to see Y/N smile again

yourinstagram honestly it’s been a wild ride but Callum’s been my biggest blessing through it all 🫶🏻♾️

Hope you all enjoy, this was a request <3 If anyone’s interested in part 2 let me know because I have loads of baby pics I can use lmao & as always feel free to pop in and talk to me about Callum, Austin, Elvis, or Harry if your heart desires 💘